Chapter Three

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, visions of a frozen Darren Hubbard and a foreclosed sign across the front door of the Babbling Brook Bed & Breakfast dancing in her head, Mel gave up around five in the morning and got up.

She couldn’t shake the feeling of doom, worried about her family’s investment. They had invested their savings in the ramshackle Babbling Brook all for her sake, trying to help her find the next chapter in her life. She had a big family, but their hearts were more sizable than their investment portfolios—and all of it now rested on her shoulders. They’d barely been open a week, and if word got out about a guest dying mysteriously, their business could be dead in the water, no pun intended.

At least she didn’t have to trudge out in the snow to get to the kitchen to start on breakfast for the few guests in residence. The B&B came with cozy staff living quarters behind the office. Accustomed to her tiny apartment in Los Angeles, the large studio with enough space for a king-sized bed at one end and a couch and TV at the other was definitely a step up. The oversized bathroom even featured a Jacuzzi tub. The best part of her new home was the divider between the sleep and living areas in the form of a partial stone wall with a fireplace visible from both rooms. The temptation to light the fire and curl up in the big comfy chair with a book and a cup of coffee pulled at her, but her mind raced too fast to relax.

So she pulled on a light sweater and a fresh pair of jeans, determined today was the day she’d conquer the Starlight Mint Surprise Cookie issue.

Mel studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror and heaved a heavy sigh. The dry mountain air added a level of static electricity to her hair. Unruly auburn waves stuck out in all directions like she’d rubbed her head on a balloon. The dark circles under her hazel eyes only added to the picture. She ran a damp brush through her hair, put on a minimal amount of makeup, and made her way to the kitchen.

****

After getting the coffee brewing, Mel proceeded into the Great Room to light a fire in the massive stone fireplace, more for atmosphere than to keep the guests warm. Thankfully, Liam had checked the heating in the old inn, and it worked remarkably well. A veritable miracle, she thought remembering how the hot water heater worked until it didn’t—right before her first guest checked in.

As she cleared out the ashes from last night’s fire, she saw a partially burned to-go cup in the corner. Was that the dead man’s cup she’d asked Stacy not to throw away? She pulled it out, dumped the ashes in the compost bin, and finished lighting the fire. Then she bee lined to the kitchen to put the burned cup inside a baggie just in case it was important. She turned and jumped, startled to see Stacy already there, her long blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail, perky as the saying on her sweatshirt: “When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Margaritas.”

She’d been blessed to find such a hard worker on such short notice. Considering Pine Cove boasted dozens of small inns, B&B’s, and vacation cabins, competition for help was fierce. It had been plain dumb luck that Stacy had wandered in as members of the O’Rourke family were sprucing up the lobby with a fresh coat of paint. Armed with more hospitality experience than Mel, Stacy turned out to be a tremendous help getting the place cleaned up after being shuttered for months, and always with a contagiously upbeat attitude.

“Morning, boss.” The cheery smile advertised she was clearly over the shock of last night’s adventure. “I thought you might need a little extra help today.” She pulled on a Babbling Brook apron that matched Mel’s and got to work.

“Oh, thanks.” Her generosity touched Mel, so she kept her tone light as she held up the bagged remains of the coffee cup. “Did you burn this instead of holding on to it?”

Stacy shook her head, blue eyes wide with innocence. “No, I left it right there on the table where you put it.”

Mel frowned, eyebrows knitted in thought. It must have been one of the guests, but that’s a kind of OCD thing to do. She shrugged it off and got back to work setting up breakfast as Chandra Agadasha floated into the room. In her fifties, she was the oldest of the yoga teachers but easily the most graceful.

“Good morning.” She yawned and stretched, eyeing the two of them curiously. “Is everything all right?”

Stacy responded with the energy of a puppy. “Great, yeah, no, everything is fine, thanks.”

Mel cringed at the girl’s verbal tick of saying yes and no, as if they complemented rather than negated each other.

“I know I’m early.” Chandra studied the table along the wall where Mel had laid out beverages for breakfast. “Have you by chance got the water heated yet? Your Earl Grey tea was so lovely yesterday I’m looking forward to another cup.”

Mel smiled. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Here, let me do that for you,” Stacy offered brightly and vanished before Mel could open her mouth to thank her. Her arrangement with Stacy was that Mel would make breakfast and Stacy would serve the guests. Afterward, they worked together to clean the guest cabins. So far, the girl’s boundless enthusiasm made working with her a pleasure and made Mel miss her family a little less.

As Chandra made herself comfortable near the fire, Mel put tablecloths, cotton napkins, and full place settings for four on each table even though they only needed a few. It gave a more cheerful appearance that way. The first rays of the rising sun filled the room with warm light. After three days of gloomy skies and snow, bright sunshine with the sparkle of a few snow flurries was a relief.

In no time, Stacy brought out the carafe of boiling water and the basket of gourmet teas. Mel breathed in their spicy aromas as she opened the lid to display them. Not being much of a tea drinker, she had to admit the loose-leaf teas bound in their gauzy triangular bags were much tastier than the usual boxed type from the grocery store.

Chandra rubbed her hands in front of the fire one last time before joining them at the beverage table. “Have either of you seen a pair of tourmaline earrings? I could have sworn I left them on my nightstand last night before we left for dinner, but I can’t find them this morning.”

“Oh, no!” Stacy gasped. “I haven’t seen them, but I’ll keep an eye out.” She turned to Mel and added brightly, “Be right back with the coffee!”

If only I had half her energy, Mel thought before turning her attention back to the older woman. “Where was the last place you remember wearing them?”

Delicately sipping her tea, the yogi closed her eyes in delight. Or thought. Or mediation, it was hard to tell. “Let me see,” she murmured before fluttering her eyes open. “Down here, I suppose.”

“Oh? When were you last in the Great Room?” She thought all the guests were out last night when they found Hubbard. Mel kicked herself for making a rookie mistake and assuming facts before proving them. Was Chandra the last one to see him alive?

“After dinner, just as you and that cute man from the café were driving off. The others went out to a bar, but I came back here to read in front of the fire before going to bed.”

Mel frowned, certain the flames had all but gone out by the time they got Hubbard’s body out the door. “I’m surprised it was still warm?”

“Just a few embers, really, so I threw on another log from the stack. I hope that’s okay?”

Mel pasted on a smile, wondering if Chandra might have thrown the coffee cup into the fire along with the log. She didn’t seem like a neat freak, but there’s almost always more to people than meets the eye. “Of course, anything for our guests.”

The rest of the yoga instructors slowly made their way in for breakfast. Mel breathed a sigh of relief when only Thom, who defied the guru stereotype with muscles that made The Rock appear wimpy, asked for bacon and eggs. She kept it simple and only offered scrambled, but he didn’t mind. In fact, the yogis seemed unflappable, able to adapt to any minor bump. Mel supposed either that’s the reason they became yoga instructors, or days filled with telling people to breathe made them into the sort of person who didn’t complain.

Of course, there was always the exception. Mindy, the skinny bottled blonde, had something to say about everything and was never shy about sharing her opinion. She complained about the lack of fat-free yogurt, even taking a selfie of her frowning at a lump of yogurt on her spoon. “I’m posting this to my Insta with the hash tag Breakfast Bummer, just so you know,” she advised Mel with a sneer in her voice.

Chandra sipped her tea. “Yes, Mindy, I’m sure all seventeen of your followers will be glued to see your next story.” She shot Mel an apologetic glance.

A sudden chill passed through Mel, and she fought the urge to grab her phone and check the Babbling Brook’s social media accounts her nephew had set up for them. What if word of Hubbard’s death got out?

It might make the local news and from there go viral with some catchy hash tag like #BnBofDeath or #ARoomtoDie4. She could do nothing and hope it blew over, or she could prove what killed poor Mr. Hubbard. Mel never found “hope” to be an active enough verb. If the Babbling Brook Bed and Breakfast had a chance of survival past its first week, she needed to solve this riddle on her own.

Mindy’s ongoing litany of complaints returned Mel to the moment. “Thank God for Cravve app so KK and me can find a place for breakfast tomorrow instead of eating here with you fuddy duddies.” She snarled as she dumped enough half-n-half and sugar in her coffee to equal the calories of two Snickers bars. What was the point of fat-free yogurt?

Mel pitied Mindy’s cabin mate, Keiko, who shrank into her sweater, embarrassed at being dragged into the food dispute. “Speaking of duddies, where’s the pervy old guy?”

Mel and Stacy exchanged looks before Mel answered, “Mr. Hubbard has already checked out.” Which, metaphysically speaking, was kind of true. She wanted to keep the lid on his death for as long as possible.

“Thank God. He gave me the creeps,” Mindy huffed. “Who wants to go shopping? Someone on the DealSpotting app just posted a great price at the boutique down the street.”

“Actually,” Thom said sheepishly, “a few of us were hoping to hold our yoga practice here in the Great Room in front of the fireplace. I’ll help you move the furniture,” he offered. “This is the longest I’ve gone without a practice, and between the Christmas tree over in the corner and the wonderful smell of baking from the kitchen, the vibe in here is truly healing.”

Mel didn’t have the heart to tell him that so far the baking experiment smelled way better than it looked or tasted. Limited time and ingredients made the possibility of a presentable cookie in only two days a long shot. She certainly didn’t want to spoil his “vibe” by telling him a guy died there.

“Sure, no problem. I’ll try to keep the baking noise to a minimum,” Mel half-joked. She tended to bang around the pots and pans when she got frustrated, which happened nearly every time she tried to bake.

“Actually, dear,” Chandra said. “We thought it would be good for you to join us. Free of charge, of course. You seem stressed out, and Thom’s a magician at detoxifying and aura clearing.”

“Me?” The image of falling on her face if she attempted a warrior stance with her bad ankle popped into Mel’s head. And her aura was plenty clear! “That’s very kind, but I’ve got a lot to do before—”

“Don’t worry about cleaning the rooms,” Stacy offered. “I’ve totally got you covered. Take a break, boss. She’s right, you look beat.”

Criminals had shot at Mel in her old job. How did fluffing a few pillows and taking reservations stress her out? Of course, the bullets were only aimed at her back then, not at her family as well, who had taken the financial risk along with her. Plus, finding a dead guy hadn’t helped. The sun streamed in the windows, mocking her gloomy mood. Maybe Chandra had a point.

“Thanks, Stacy. Sure, why not? It’s been a while since I’ve taken a yoga class.” She lived in LA, you don’t get out of there without going through your share of “Namastes” and “oms”, but it had probably been since before Vinnie had her kids.

****

An hour later, they had the tables and chairs cleared. Thom easily picked up the big chair that Mr. Hubbard died in. Beneath it, Mel spotted a half-eaten cookie. Was he eating it before he died? She scurried over, beating Stacy there by a fraction of a second.

“My gosh, good thing you saw that, how gross,” she whispered as Mel put it in her apron pocket.

“Say, would you mind?” Thom interrupted. Surprised, Mel jumped out of her skin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He laughed that carefree, easy laugh of his. “I’m hoping we can build the fire up a little higher?”

“Isn’t that going to make it kind of hot?”

Thom raised his eyebrows at her in an exaggerated gesture. “With me, yoga is always hot,” he teased, followed by a charming, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m kidding. With the snowy weather, this is a fantastic day to do hot yoga. Have you ever tried it?”

In fact, Mel had let her best friend Gloria talk her into trying a class once. It wasn’t the heat she minded as much as all the sweating. Glancing at the sturdy, aged hardwood floor, Mel surrendered to the idea she’d spend the rest of the afternoon mopping. “Once. It was great,” she gushed, attempting to emulate Stacy’s cheerful tone.

Once they got the floor cleared off and yoga mats rolled out, Mel quickly threw her apron over one of the hooks in the kitchen and returned to her living quarters to change into something more yoga-y. She got to the threshold of the lobby when she heard two voices.

“Can you believe that old dude tried to deny it?” a voice sounding like Mindy’s snarked. “Please, apps don’t lie.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Mel peeked out the door and saw Mindy speaking with Keiko, her cabin mate. Keiko had dressed for yoga, but Mindy had on a hat and a heavy jacket, clearly ready to get her shopping on. “Are you kidding? New yoga studio, here I come!”

She cackled a laugh too ugly for someone so young. Mel didn’t want to be the one to burst her bubble, knowing that he wouldn’t be giving her any money on this side of life.

Once the coast was clear, Mel tiptoed into the Great Room where Chandra beckoned her. “Come, I borrowed Mindy’s mat for you.”

With a sigh of resignation, Mel slipped off her shoes and crossed the floor to sit cross-legged next to Chandra. Thankfully, she had saved them spots a row away from the now roaring fire, but Mel’s hair was already damp with sweat.

After twenty minutes, she had to admit she enjoyed the slow-moving Yin practice despite the sauna-like conditions. Then, Thom had to do a hip opening stretch and suddenly Mel felt overwhelmed with emotions. What is wrong with me? Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Sometimes it happens,” Chandra whispered, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “The hips are where we hold our emotions. It’s good, you need to release all these buried feelings.” She gave Mel an encouraging smile.

Mel desperately sought a way out of the room before anyone else noticed. O’Rourkes don’t cry. Period. Thankfully, the lobby bell jangled, signaling a new customer.

“Um, sorry, gotta go,” Mel whispered. She untangled her limbs as fast as possible and hurried into the lobby, wiping her eyes on the hem of her T-shirt. When she looked up, she was both relieved and embarrassed to see a muscular man in a uniform whose patch identified him as from the sheriff’s department. She ran her arm across her face, playing it off as sweat.

“Whew, and they say yoga isn’t exercise!” She smiled as she extended her hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Mel O’Rourke. I assume you’re here—” She glanced around, making sure the door to the Great Room was closed before continuing. “—about the body?”

“Deputy Sheriff Gregg Marks, ma’am,” he said, flashing his perfect white teeth as they shook hands. “If I’d known the new owner of the Babbling Brook was so beautiful, I’d have come up sooner.”

Normally she would have rolled her eyes at such flattery, but her stupid emotions kept pouring out. Any movement other than studying her bare feet threatened to start tears rolling in an unstoppable wave. Not to mention the appreciative gleam in his blue eyes made her feel semi-naked in her tight stretch pants and T-shirt. She’d give anything right now to be wearing the protective armor of her LAPD uniform. It was a rare man who flirted with her when she carried handcuffs and a gun.

“Let me change clothes and then I’ll take you to see it. Him. You know what I mean. Oh.” She leaned over the front counter to grab a file she’d left there and when she turned back caught him checking out her butt. Rather than being embarrassed at getting busted, his grin got a little wider.

Mel suddenly felt flushed. What the hell emotion did that hip opener conjure up, horny? It didn’t matter; no one knew better than her how complicated it can be to date a cop, so what’s wrong with some harmless flirtation?

“I printed the information he gave me when he checked in four days ago. His car is the blue sedan parked out front under a blanket of snow, but I think it’s a rental. He drove up from Orange County, but there wasn’t a speck of dust on the car. I highlighted his phone number for you to notify the next of kin.”

“That’s very professional of you, thank you.” Marks raised an eyebrow. “Have you done this before?”

Should she tell him she used to be LAPD? Mel wrestled with it and decided it was irrelevant, a part of her past she needed to move on from.

“Nope.” She retreated to change into something warmer. And less clingy. “This is definitely a first for me.”