Chapter 20

When I turned around, Jade all but tumbled over the counter.

I caught her gaze and dipped my chin. “Boundaries, please.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“How well do you know Mike Swanson?”

“What makes you think I do?”

“Because it seems all the long-time locals know each other. So?”

She took a breath and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. I mean, I know who Mike is, but that’s about it. What happened?” she asked again, this time through an exasperated sigh. She clicked her long, black, polished fingernails on the counter.

“Someone tried to kill him this evening. I heard the sirens when I was running.” I leaned against the desk, deep in thought, processing what this could mean in connection to Ivan’s death. The two might not even be related to each other, but I suspected that wasn’t the case. I snapped out of my bubble and looked at Jade when I realized she had said something. “I’m sorry, what?”

“What if the truck that almost hit you wasn’t an accident at all. What if it was intentional?”

I frowned. “Hmm. It’s possible, I suppose. But the shooter was in town, not driving on the road.”

“A shooter was. But you don’t know that it had anything to do with Ivan’s murder.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Were you listening in on my conversation with Sister Alice just now?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, pressing her shoulders back. “But it doesn’t take a genius to put together a child’s puzzle. Ivan was murdered; Mike was a friend of his and—”

“Wait.” I held out my hand, palm facing her. “I thought you said you didn’t know Mike. So how do you know he was friends with Ivan?”

“Well, I don’t know if they were friends,” she said, backtracking her statement. She picked up the stapler and juggled it from hand to hand. I wondered if I should duck. “Okay, so I know they knew each other. He stopped by one evening when I was at Ivan’s.”

“That’s a pretty big clue you failed to mention.” I covered my face with my hands in frustration, then looked back at her. “What was their interaction like?” 

She set the stapler back down and made a sound I interpreted as I don’t know, then began picking things together, taking extra care to set the guest log in the center of the desk just so. 

“Jade, what other info are you withholding from me?”

“Nothing.”

“You are,” I countered. “What was their interaction like?”

“Not great.” Her voice was quiet, and she shot a glance at me before straightening the guest log again.

“How so?”

She huffed and looked up at me. “Mike made an inappropriate comment about me and said he was gonna tell Tom about me and Ivan unless Ivan paid up.”

I pursed my lips together. “If Ivan wasn’t already dead, I’d name him as the one who shot Mike.” 

“My shift is up. Tom is going out tonight, so I need to get home for my daughter.”

“Jade?”

She continued to avoid looking my way as she grabbed her purse from the bottom desk drawer. “Yeah?”

“Did you worry about Mike telling Tom?”

“Of course. But before you assume anything, you know I was here all evening. Even if I wasn’t, Tom already knows everything, so I had no reason to shoot Mike.”

“I’m wondering if Mike said something to Tom and—”

“No,” she interrupted me. “Tom didn’t shoot Mike. He doesn’t even own a gun.”

“Maybe he does. You know as well as anyone that marriage holds dark secrets.”

“I know he didn’t do it, Andie Rose. I know my husband.”

I nodded. “I hope so, Jade. Go enjoy that beautiful daughter.”

“That’s the plan.” She tossed a forced smile over her shoulder.

Aspen walked Jade to the door, and after she left, I unlocked the drawer that held the set of master keys. I withdrew my room key from my pocket. When the last key I inspected didn’t match mine, I shivered again. Someone could have picked the lock, but who? Before killing brain cells over yet another mystery, I’d contact the cleaning crew supervisor first thing in the morning to see if they have anyone new on staff. One step at a time.

Before heading to my room, I circled through the inn to be sure everything was as it should be. I locked the front door and swung through the dining room. As I did, I glanced out the wall of windows that faced the lake. I stopped and admired the moonlight shimmering off the water’s surface, stealing my breath away. And then, off toward the edge of the property, I spotted someone hovering by the lakeshore. I stood in the darkness and watched for a moment, then turned from my voyeurism. It was probably just a guest. Right? But I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling that began consuming me again. I crossed my arms in front of me, the hair on my forearms erect from goose bumps. I turned to look one more time, but the person was gone. A brief tremor passed. 

I shook my head and muttered, “Good Lord, Andie Rose. You’re hoping to see ghosts that aren’t there, but you’re seeing people that aren’t there.” Or were they the same? Can a ghost morph into human form?

****

Surprisingly, I slept so soundly that night that I slept through the alarm and woke to Aspen’s cool, wet nose against my own. I sat up in a sleepy fog, remembered Mike’s shooting, and jolted upright, hurtling out of bed. I had work to do and people to talk with, starting with the cleaning crew supervisor. Given my key was cut differently from all the others, and the master key didn’t fit mine, the chance of it being a newbie on the cleaning crew was next to zero. But for peace of mind, I still had to ask.

I glanced at the mystery book, The Unlikely Suspect, on my nightstand and shuddered. Luka Molotov’s name returned and haunted my thoughts.

After throwing on some sweats and my Teva’s, I brought Aspen down the back staircase and outside to do his morning thing and found the back door unlocked. All outside doors were locked at night, the guests having a key to come in after hours. Had I forgotten to lock it last night when I locked up the front? I was sure I’d locked it. But I couldn’t have. Had Ivan’s killer snagged his key? My mind played tug-of-war until all I could think about was getting back to the safety of my room.

Outside, and in fight-or-flight mode, I remained hypervigilant until Aspen finally lifted his leg. The second he finished, I yanked him back toward the door and inside, locked the door, and bolted up the stairs. I showered, dressed, and struggled with my long red locks, unusually frizzy today. Exasperated by the lack of cooperation, I groaned my frustration, split it into three sections, and threaded them into a braid. By the time I applied eyeliner, mascara, and lip balm, my frayed nerves had simmered down.

I scrambled downstairs to the kitchen to check in with Tony before guests arrived for breakfast. Maybe I’d even let him boss me around while I helped some. Maybe. After that, I planned to catch Luka at St. Michael’s before hitting up the eleven o’clock meeting I promised Sister Alice I would attend. Unlock two doors with one key, so to speak. 

****

Tony turned my way and smiled as I entered through the kitchen doorway.

“Hey, Tony. What’s shakin’?”

“You’re entering my castle. Don’t touch anything.”

“Okay, Ivan. You just lost the help I was going to offer you.” He snickered, and I crossed the room, reached for an oversized coffee cup, and began pouring from the large pot. 

I toasted him with my mug and took a drink of the instant pick-me-up. “Mmm,” I said. “Good and strong. Perfect.” 

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip, I said, “Not to hurt your feelings, but I was talking about the coffee.”

His hand flew to his chest as he leaned back in a dramatic show of disappointment. “I’m crushed.”

I chuckled. “Inappropriate much?”

“I guess it’s a good thing I don’t work for some big, stuffy corporation.”

“I’d say. Everything going okay this morning?”

After a quick recovery, he said, “Couldn’t be better.” 

“Hey, have you noticed anyone new on the cleaning crew? Or anyone new anywhere, actually.”

He stared at me as if I’d fallen off my rocker. “This is an inn, Andie Rose. We always have new people.” He shook his head and turned back to the oven.

I drew a breath and released it. “Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean.”

He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t pay attention to the cleaning crew. Or anyone else. My nose stays in the kitchen.”

“And in Jade’s business,” I said, pinching my lips together.

He scoffed and turned. “Why do you want to know if someone’s new?”

“Someone was in my suite yesterday.”

Tony stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. “What’d the person look like?”

“Hello,” I sang. “I wasn’t in there at the time or I’d know who it was.” 

“Then how do you know someone was in there?” 

“There was a book on my nightstand that isn’t mine.”

He frowned. “That’s weird. Why would someone put a book in there?”

“Good question. It’s probably nothing.” I shrugged it off and took another sip, refreshed my coffee, and started for the door. “I’ll be in my office. Let me know if you need my help.” When I reached the doorway, I pivoted back toward him. “Tony, did you unlock the back door early?”

He frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“It was unlocked when I took Aspen outside earlier, and I didn’t do it.”

“You seem to have a problem with locks here. I’d say get a locksmith to change them, but because of the cost and inconvenience you’d have with that, you might want to be sure you’re not the one leaving them open.”

“Noted.”

When I opened my office door, I flipped on the light switch and glanced around the room, half expecting to catch someone. Between the murder, the book in my room, someone nearly hitting Aspen and me on the road, the attempt on Mike’s life, and the person I might not have seen by the lake last evening, I was edgy and ill at ease. Strange occurrences didn’t bother me too much, but when they kept piling up, it deserved pause for concern. 

I looked at my watch. Before eight was too early to call the cleaning supervisor. I would have had plenty of time for a run this morning, but after last evening, it held little appeal. 

I turned on my laptop and buried myself with business items: ordering things for the inn, checking stats and success rates from our advertising, and reviewing the P&L reports. Yet, hard as I tried, I could only focus on Ivan’s murder and how I could clear myself and the staff. Finally, eight o’clock rolled around. I dug the cleaning supervisor’s business card from my desk, picked up the phone, and punched in the number. She answered on the second ring. No, she didn’t have anyone new on deck; yes, they knew not to clean my suite; and no, she confirmed, they do not have a key. After we hung up, I sat still for a moment, trying to come up with another logical answer. I couldn’t. If I’d brought the book into my room, I was losing my ever-loving mind. 

Next, I called Sister Alice, got her voicemail, and let her know I was going to the church a few minutes early and hoped to catch Luka. I also asked her to meet me if she was at the church early. I figured since she didn’t answer, she might already be at the hospital.

I logged off the computer and ran upstairs to be sure I’d locked the door to my room. Aspen trotted up behind me and immediately made for his dog bed beneath the big window. He snuggled in with his stuffed hedgehog for an early morning nap.

“Slacker,” I said, ruffling his fur. “I’ll come back up in a couple of hours to get you.”

He rolled on his side and closed his eyes in answer.

After triple-checking the door was secure and tucking the key deep into the pocket of my jeans, I scampered downstairs. I carried a coffeepot in one hand and a water pitcher in the other, refilling cups and glasses as I mingled—until I spotted Detective Griffin looming in the dining room doorway and nearly overflowed someone’s coffee cup. Extending my apologies to the guest, I set the coffeepot and water pitcher down on the counter and reluctantly wove through tables over to the detective. 

“I don’t suppose this is a social call,” I said when I reached him. I walked past him and led him into the hallway. The last thing I wanted was for guests to hear what he had to say. I directed him to the empty parlor, motioning toward the two wingback chairs beside a two-sided gas fireplace. The orange flames danced as if they were alive. 

“I gotta say the food smells good, but you’re correct. This is not a social call.”

My stomach clenched in apprehension at what this was about. I forced myself to keep my mouth shut, so I didn’t stick my foot in it. The ability to abstain was a credit to sobriety. I’d painfully learned what one thinks when sober, one says when drunk.

Detective Griffin took out a small wire notepad and a pen from his shirt pocket. “Where were you last evening between seven and eight?”

“Here.”

“The whole time?”

“Well… I went for a brief run, but came right back.”

“Where did you run? By the lake?”

“On the road. I turned back as soon as I reached the town limits.”

“Anyone that can vouch for you?”

“When I was here, yeah, Jade can. But not when I was running. Unless you want to confirm that with Aspen.”

“Your dog—right. Think I’ll bypass that one.” He cleared his throat and glanced around the room.

“He’s upstairs napping.”

“Anyone else?” he said.

“Yeah, a couple of vehicles, but I didn’t see who they were, so I can’t give you any names. A truck almost hit me, so apparently, he didn’t see me either.”

He stopped writing and looked at me, frowning. “Almost hit you?”

I nodded. “We were running along the side of the road—”

“We?”

I nodded. “Me and Aspen—my witness. Something rustled in the weeds, and while we were looking for what it was, a truck came around the corner. He cut it close and almost hit us.”

“But you didn’t see who it was?”

“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. 

“What kind of truck was it? Did you get a license plate?”

“I don’t know, and no. I was too busy dodging the mirror on the truck that almost took me out. It was dark, and when I got back up, it was too far down the road.”

“And you’re sure he or she didn’t see you.”

I shook my head. “Obviously not. But I can’t know for sure. If they did, I’d think they would have stopped.”

“Do you always run at night?”

“Sometimes. When I do, it’s usually on the lake trail because it’s too hard for cars to see a person at dusk and after. Last night proved that.”

“I want you to think real hard if you can remember anything more about the truck.”

“The truck in question hit his mirror on the tree.”

“His? So you saw it was a man?”

“No. Just assuming so.”

“So a truck with a damaged mirror. Better than nothing, I guess.” He exhaled and closed his eyes briefly. “Anything else you might have seen that would help identify the driver?”

“Like what? I already told you I don’t remember.”

“Literally any little thing that can help us identify the person so they can confirm your whereabouts and the time.”

I frowned and turned my head to the side. “I’m not sure I understand, Detective. Are you accusing me of something?”

“Just checking your alibi for the attempted murder of Mike Swanson. Someone saw you arguing with both the murder victim and, a couple of days later, the attempted murder victim.”

“We weren’t arguing, Detective. Who told you we did?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree. It does matter if it’s not a trustworthy source.”

His gaze leveled at me. “Arguing with me to prove you weren’t arguing with both victims. Do you see my problem here?”

I exhaled through pursed lips and looked down, scuffing the toe of my Teva on the floor. Finally, I looked back at him. “I was only asking Mike a few questions about his connection to Ivan. He got kind of huffy about it. Defensive even. Made him look guilty.”

“Mike couldn’t have shot himself, Ms. Kaczmarek.” He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and yawned. “Sorry.”

“Did you look into his alibi for the time of Ivan’s murder? Mike could have killed him. There was something fishy between those two.”

He pressed his lips together, closing his eyes as he did. “Please don’t play detective and interfere in my investigation, Ms. Kaczmarek. I don’t need your help. Stay. Out. Of. It.”