Daniel awoke to the sound of a scream. At first, he thought he was dreaming but the scream came again. He jumped out of bed, slid his feet into his sneakers and ran for the door in his pajamas. Hannah, in her nightgown, robe and slippers was not far behind.
The scream had subsided into loud sobs coming from the direction of the kitchen. Daniel motioned Hannah to stay back and opened the door.
Grace was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at a figure in the corner chair. Daniel came up behind her.
“Grace, what is it?”
She turned toward him, face streaked with tears.
“Our chef. I think he’s dead.”
Scott Nilsson was slumped sideways, his arms hanging over the sides of the chair. His face was blue and Daniel could see that the lower parts of both arms were deep blue as well, suggesting that he had died in that position and the blood had had enough time to pool. A small side table had fallen to the floor, spilling broken glass, alcohol, and a scatter of chocolates on the ground. The smell of feces and decomposition was obvious.
“Did you touch him?” he asked.
Grace shook her head.
“Come with me. We shouldn’t be in here. We need to notify the police.”
Daniel put his arm around her shoulders and guided her into the dining room. He turned to Hannah.
“Scott Nilsson is dead. Grace, is there a police station on the island? I’ve never noticed one.”
“There isn’t one. You have to call Bellingham. Nothing ever happens here.”
“Are you suspecting a homicide?” Hannah asked.
“I didn’t get close enough to the body to make any judgment about how he died. But it needs to be treated as a suspicious death until a medical examiner has had a chance to evaluate him.”
Hannah turned to Grace. “It must have been awful for you, walking into the kitchen and finding him. Did he have any medical problems that you know of?”
“He wasn’t the sort to confide in the help. You might ask Miss Wells. She knows him the best.”
“Can you remember the last time you saw him alive?” Daniel asked.
“It was about ten o’clock. Luke and I finished cleaning up the dinner dishes and set the table for breakfast. Scott was talking to one of the guests in his office, the good-looking man with the gray hair. After he left, Scott sat down in that chair with a bottle of cognac and the rest of the box of chocolates. He always ends his evenings with cognac. That’s when Luke and I headed home.”
“Do you both live locally?” Hannah asked.
“I live with my parents. They own the café in town. Luke has a tiny cottage near the beach.”
Daniel looked at his watch. It was barely 5:30 a.m. “You get here early.”
“Breakfast starts at seven. I was just about to put up the coffee.”
Hannah sighed. “I guess there won’t be any breakfast for anyone this morning.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Noel Gunderson stalked into the dining room with Craig Sutton not far behind him. Daniel could hear voices descending the stairs. Clearly, everyone was awake.
“We’ve had a death,” Hannah said. “Mr. Nilsson, in the kitchen.”
“Oh, no,” Sutton said.
Gunderson started to walk toward the door. Daniel blocked him.
“No one should go in there. The police need to be notified and the kitchen has to be treated as a potential crime scene until the medical examiner arrives.”
By this time, all the other guests had come downstairs and were listening.
“Who made you the boss?” Gunderson said.
“I’m a homicide detective with the Los Angeles Police Department,” Daniel said. “And the quickest way to piss off the Bellingham police is if all of you leave trace evidence in the kitchen.”
Gunderson backed off.
Just then, the front door opened and a young man in jeans and a T-shirt, with bright red hair, entered the dining room.
“Grace, what’s going on here?” he asked.
Grace looked at Daniel. “This is Luke Murray, our sous-chef.”
Daniel held out his hand. “Daniel Ross.”
“Mr. Ross is one of our guests and a homicide detective from Los Angeles. I found Scott this morning, dead in the kitchen. Mr. Ross said none of us should go in there.”
“Was he murdered?” Luke asked, his eyes wide.
“Probably a natural death, but until we know for sure, it’s best not to touch anything.” Daniel turned to Hannah. “Could you go and phone the Bellingham police? I left my cell in our room. I’ll wait here.”
“Of course.”
“Is Melanie here yet? Does she know?” Luke asked.
“She hasn’t come in,” Grace said. “Maybe you should call her.”
“Me?” Luke looked horrified at the thought.
“I can call her if you’d prefer,” Daniel offered.
“Please,” Luke said. He handed Daniel his cell phone with Melanie’s contact information.
Daniel turned toward the crowd in the dining room. “May I suggest that for now you all return to your rooms? There isn’t anything you can do here that will be helpful until the police arrive.”
“I hate to be self-centered in the face of a tragedy,” Samantha said, “but if the kitchen is off limits, does that mean no food today for any of us?” She was wearing a ratty flannel bathrobe and her gray hair stuck up in all directions.
“I can call my parents,” Grace said. “They own the café. I’m sure they’d be willing to provide coffee and enough baked goods to feed everyone.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Daniel said. “Thank you, Grace.”
He waited for the guests to go upstairs, took a deep breath, and called Melanie.
“Miss Wells. This is Daniel Ross at the hotel. There’s a major problem. Could you please come to Alder House right away?”
“What problem?” She sounded sleepy and annoyed.
“I’d rather tell you in person. It’s about Mr. Nilsson.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I’ve dressed,” she said and hung up.
“You didn’t tell her,” Luke said.
“This is the kind of news I always try to deliver in person,” Daniel said.
“I’ve called the police,” Hannah announced, returning to the dining room. She had put on jeans and a sweater and was carrying two cell phones, one of which she handed to Daniel.
“Detective Elias Lindstrom said he’d be here within the hour. He’ll be bringing people to collect the body and any evidence that seems appropriate. He said not to touch anything in the kitchen.”
“What about the medical examiner?”
“He’ll be notified.”
Daniel turned to Luke.
“Do you have any duct tape that we could use to block off the kitchen door?”
“I’ll go look,” Luke said. He put an arm around Grace. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“Can you stay here for five minutes while I go up and change?” Daniel asked Hannah. She would know she was expected to guard the door without him having to spell it out. “Miss Wells is on her way. I should be back before she arrives.”
As Daniel ran up the stairs, he wondered why it was that dead bodies seemed to follow them everywhere.
Melanie Wells was not in a good mood. She’d fallen asleep late after some exciting sex and hated being awakened by the phone. Noel had returned to the B&B before morning. Melanie made it a rule that he had to leave well before Josh woke up.
Her son was already dressed and eating cereal in the kitchen.
“Hi, Mom. Who called?”
“They need me at work. Come on. I’ll take you to school.” Whatever the hell Daniel Ross wanted from her, it could wait.
Josh put his bowl in the sink and grabbed his backpack, while Melanie found her car keys.
When Melanie reached Alder House, she found Daniel and his red-headed wife seated in the dining room. There were two pieces of blue duct tape blocking the door to the kitchen.
“What was so important you had to wake me up?” she demanded.
Daniel stood. “Please, Miss Wells, sit down. I have some bad news.”
Melanie sat. As she did, she noticed there was no breakfast on the sideboard and no other guests visible. Something was very wrong.
“When Grace came in this morning to start breakfast, she found Mr. Nilsson in the kitchen chair, dead.”
Melanie’s jaw dropped. “No, he can’t be.”
“I’m afraid he is. He appears to have died in the middle of the night. Did he have any medical conditions?”
This was a disaster. How was she ever going to find a chef of his caliber to take over? Everything she’d worked so hard to build would disintegrate.
“Scott was a health freak. He ran five miles every morning. Why are you asking? Did he die of a heart attack? Where is he?”
“We don’t know why he died. We called the police in Bellingham. They’re sending an officer and a medical examiner. Mr. Nilsson’s body is in the kitchen. I put tape across the door so it wouldn’t be disturbed.”
“Who told you that you could take charge? Where are the rest of my employees? Where’s Luke?”
“I’m a homicide detective, Miss Wells, in Los Angeles. I was the first one downstairs when Grace screamed, and I know enough to keep people from touching anything before the police arrive. Luke and Grace went to the café to bring back breakfast for the guests. All we can do now, I’m afraid, is wait for the Bellingham police.”
“I’ll be in my office,” Melanie said. “I need to be alone.”
Without a second look at either of them, she got up and walked out.
Detective Elias Lindstrom glanced at his watch and pressed harder on the accelerator of his car. He didn’t want to miss the next ferry and have to wait half an hour on the dock.
Next to him, Detective Rashida James, his partner, raised her eyebrows. “He probably just died of a heart attack from eating all that rich food. I don’t know why we’re even doing this. It could have been assigned to some low-level cop.”
“The Chief insisted. Nilsson’s the biggest celebrity chef in Washington and he’s only 47 years old. If the death is suspicious and we didn’t take it seriously, the department will be blasted by the media.”
“I hate celebrities,” Rashida said. “It’s bad enough they get special treatment when they’re alive. They can’t even die quietly like the rest of us.”
“Well said.” Elias always liked working with Rashida. She was the only black woman in the department, and she was smart, tough, and never failed to speak her mind.
He looked in his rear view mirror to be sure the coroner’s van was still behind him. This was one case that would definitely require an autopsy, regardless of what the medical examiner thought.