7

The long, winding driveway leading to Ted and Bettfast prepared me for the state of the old mansion. The hedge animals had been left to grow over long ago, and many of them had died from some sort of blight, leaving behind their sad stick skeletons. The bed-and-breakfast itself was stuck between falling down and being built back up. Partial siding replacement, a window that had been boarded up instead of being replaced.

It was almost enough to kill any joy I might have in seeing Dad and Laura.

I parked next to Dad’s rental, which was sitting beside the only other vehicle in the lot. Lack of business lately hadn’t helped with the funding of repairs for Ted and Bettfast that were necessary to draw in business and it showed.

I glanced at the box that was sitting in the passenger seat next to me. I needed to get it to the police station, but I’d wanted to talk to Dad first. I made a mental note to do it as soon as I was done here, and then climbed out of my car and headed for the front door of the bed-and-breakfast.

“Ms. Hancock!” One of the employees—the only one working, as far as I could tell—met me by the door. His once shoulder-length hair was cut to just below his chin, and he was starting to fill out the baggy clothes he often wore, but in a good way. “It’s been a long time.”

“Hey, Justin. How’s your sister?”

“Great. We’re doing great.” Justin took care of his younger sister. There was some family drama in there somewhere, but I hadn’t pried too deeply into exactly what that drama was. “At least we are now. I’m worried that won’t last.”

“Why’s that?” Though, noting the peeling wallpaper on the walls and a light that flickered on and off irregularly, it was kind of obvious.

“I don’t think Ted and Bett are going to be around much longer.” He paused, frowned at that. “I mean, I think they’re planning on moving somewhere else, not . . . you know? Dying or anything.”

“Out of Pine Hills?”

“Yeah. They aren’t really talking about it with the rest of us.” Meaning him and the other two employees, Jo and Kari. “But we see what’s happening. I overheard them talking about Florida real estate just the other day.”

“Do you think they’ll go?” Despite our occasional rocky relationship, I liked the Bunfords. It would be strange not to see them around town.

Justin shrugged. “Beats me. I hope they don’t because I don’t want to lose this job. I’ve been here forever.” He sighed. “But I don’t think I’ve got much choice. I’m pretty sure Ted and Bett are talking to the bank today. Or maybe it’s a realtor.”

“If they do sell, that doesn’t mean you won’t have a job,” I said. “The new owners could keep you around.”

“I hope so, but I can’t count on it. The uncertainty is killer.”

“I bet.” And then, a thought. “If something does happen and you lose your job here, feel free to stop in at Death by Coffee. I’m sure we could find a place for you there.”

“Really?” His eyes brightened. “I mean, that’d be great. And if you could find room for Jo and Kari . . .” He considered that a moment before amending it to, “For Jo, at least, that’d be awesome.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but we can both hope that it won’t come to that.”

“Yeah.” Justin cleared his throat. “I should get back to cleaning up. Ted and Bett might not be here, and it’s not exactly busy, but a job’s a job.” He flashed me a smile. “I assume you’re here for your dad?”

I almost asked him how he knew their guest was my father, but caught myself. I mean, duh. “I am.”

“Go on up, then. Room’s the only occupied one. It’s on the left.”

“Thanks.” I started for the stairs but paused. “I really do hope things work out for you, Justin. Don’t forget to stop in if you need a job. Or if you just want to say hi.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks again, Ms. Hancock.”

“Krissy.” And then I headed up the stairs.

A multitude of emotions slammed into me as I ascended the wooden stairs to the second floor. The carpet was well-worn, but clean. The whole house felt that way. It was old and falling apart, but was kept as clean as possible. A lot had happened in this building, both good and bad.

And the bad included murder.

Would the house feel the same way if someone were to buy it and fix it up completely? The mansion was over a hundred years old and standing in it was kind of like going back in time. A full renovation might erase that feeling. I’m not so sure that would be a good thing.

I passed by the door where the murder had taken place, gently touching the aged wood as I passed. There were no cold chills or feelings of being watched. I supposed that meant there were no ghosts hanging around, or at least none that wanted to catch my attention.

Not that I’m all that superstitious. But in old places like this, it’s hard not to be, at least a little.

A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung on a doorknob on the left side of the hall. Dad’s room. I considered it a moment, and then decided it didn’t apply to me. I knocked and called out. “Dad? Laura? It’s me.”

The door opened and Dad peeked out. “Buttercup? I didn’t expect you already.” He stepped aside. “Come on in.”

I entered, half expecting to find Laura in bed, covers pulled up to her chin and with a thermometer poking out of her mouth. Instead, she was seated in a chair by the window, sipping at something that smelled strongly of mint. Tea, I assumed.

“How are you feeling?” I asked her.

“Better. I think it was exhaustion more than anything, though I’d stick to the other side of the room if I were you, just in case.”

“Here.” Dad handed me a copy of his latest book. “Might as well give it to you now, before I forget.”

“Thanks.” The cover of Scars of the Heart was similar to that of Victim of the Heart, the first book in the series. It showed a chalk outline, though this time, it was a woman’s body that was implied instead of a man’s, and a knife was on the scene instead of a gun. A little yellow triangle by the body had a “2” on it instead of the first book’s “1”.

“I told him he should wrap it and give it to you at Christmas,” Laura said.

Dad made a face. “I’m not big on treating my books as anything special. Giving one to Rita as a gift was more than enough for me.”

“I’m happy either way.” I opened the cover and peeked at Dad’s messy signature before closing it again.

“So . . .” Dad rocked back onto his heel as he stretched out the word. “A murder, huh?”

By the window, Laura rolled her eyes before taking a sip of her tea.

“Yeah.” I wasn’t too sure I wanted to talk about this with Dad quite yet, so I tried to change the subject. Kind of. “Must be strange staying here after what happened to Rick all those years ago.” Rick was his former agent and the victim in the previously considered murder.

Dad thought about it a moment before shrugging. “Not really. In fact, it’s helped me come to peace with it. Strange, I guess, but it worked.” He paused. “How well did you know the man who was killed?”

I sighed. There was no way I was going to get out of this. “I didn’t know him at all. Well, I guess I had sort of met him, but we didn’t talk.” And then, since we were obviously going to discuss it, “Did you see anything strange when you left the party last night?”

Dad scratched his chin and looked to Laura.

“I wasn’t paying attention to anything but making sure my feet went one after the other by then,” she said.

“I wasn’t watching either, but maybe . . .” Dad closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and thought about it. After a few moments, he shook his head. “I’ve got nothing.”

Which, in some ways, was probably a good thing. If Dad had seen something, like someone going into Andrew’s Gifts, then he’d need to talk to the police about it, which meant talking to John Buchannan, who would find a way to make my life miserable through my dad, just because he could.

Then again, if he had seen the killer, Andrew’s murder would be solved, and Jules would be safe again.

“I think the murderer left a package,” I said. “A gift-wrapped box.”

“With the body?” Dad asked.

“No. Before. Apparently, the victim found a wrapped gift outside his house. When he opened it, he took it to his store, but didn’t tell anyone what was inside. By the time anyone found it, it was already empty, so I’m guessing the killer took whatever was inside with him.”

But why leave the box? That was a question I couldn’t answer, at least not yet.

Dad started pacing. “Do you believe the gift had something to do with the man’s death?”

“I don’t know. But my neighbor and friend, Jules Phan, got a present just like it too.”

Dad jerked to a stop. “From the killer?”

I hugged myself as worry started gnawing at me. “I don’t know. I could be overthinking it and these gifts have nothing to do with the murder. When I learned about the one Andrew had received, I rushed over to Phantastic Candies before Jules could open his. He called the police and they took it somewhere safe to open it.”

“So you don’t know what’s inside this new gift?”

“Not yet.” And hopefully, when they look, it’ll point right at the killer. If it was connected, that was. “Erin—that’s Andrew’s wife—gave me the other box to give to the police. I plan on doing that as soon as I leave here.”

Excitement lit up Dad’s face. “You still have the evidence?”

I could have slapped myself for letting that tidbit slip, but I wasn’t going to lie to Dad. “It’s in the car.”

“Show me.” Dad was out the door before I could respond.

By the window, Laura chuckled into her tea. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I heaved a sigh. “Feel better.”

She held up her mug. “I’m trying.”

Dad was already down the stairs by the time I’d left the room. He was waiting impatiently by the front door, Justin looking on with a perplexed expression on his face. As soon as I joined Dad, he pushed through the door and made for my Escape, muttering to himself. It wasn’t until he started rubbing at his arms that I realized he hadn’t put on a coat.

“Dad! You’ll freeze.”

“I’m fine.” He rounded to the passenger’s side door and peered in through the window. “This it?”

“It is.” I unlocked the doors and immediately started the engine and jacked up the heat. “Get in. We can talk about it inside where it’s warm.”

Dad gingerly lifted the box, using the sleeve of his sweater to touch it. It was something I should have thought about when I’d gotten it from Erin, but at the same time, she’d been touching it too. I was pretty sure whatever evidence might have been left behind on the box was already long gone.

Once we were sitting inside the quickly warming car, Dad turned the box over in his hands.

“There’s nothing on it.”

“I don’t think there was a note,” I said. “Or if there was, Erin never told me about it. And Jules’s gift didn’t have one, as far as I know.” Though I’d have to remember to ask him to be sure.

“So, it was sent completely anonymously?” Dad peered inside. “There’s no residue or indentations.” He tipped the box so I could look in at the smooth, brown surface. “See?”

“I see an empty box.”

“Think back to all the packages you’ve ever received,” Dad said.

I frowned, not following. “Okay?”

“If the package was sent through a mail carrier or a delivery service, it would show signs of that here.” He tapped the blue wrapping paper. “But the paper isn’t worn or torn except for where it was opened at the top.”

“Okay?” I repeated.

“That means it was hand delivered. It’s clean, so it didn’t ride in the back of a delivery truck, where it would have gotten dirty. And the inside.” He tipped it to show me again. “There’re no indentations where a hard corner might have torn into the cardboard, or at least dented it. There’s no powder or residue like you might expect to find with drugs or some kind of poison.”

“So, you’re saying the killer was careful?”

“Or the object inside was round and well-secured. Was there Bubble Wrap or some sort of packing lying around?”

I tried to remember if I’d seen anything like that on the counter at Andrew’s Gifts, but came up blank. “I don’t think so, but I could be wrong. I got the impression Andrew opened his gift at home, and then brought it to the store, so he could have thrown any protective packaging away there.”

Dad set the box on the dash. “Find out if you can. You said your friend got one?” I nodded. “Ask him about the condition of the box, what was inside, and not just the main object. Even something like balled up newspaper used for packaging could help.”

“If the police will tell me,” I said. “They might not even tell Jules.”

“Well, if they do, find out.”

“I will.”

Dad eyed the box and then reached for the door handle. “I should probably get back inside to Laura.” He paused before opening the door. “Do you want to come back in with me?”

“No, I’d best get that to the police.” I nodded toward the box on the dash. “But if Laura’s feeling up to it, what about dinner tomorrow? At Geraldo’s?”

“Sounds great,” Dad said. “And you should bring Paul.”

A flare of both excitement and fear shot through me. Dad and Laura had met Paul many times, yet somehow, this time felt different. Maybe it had to do with how Paul had been acting as of late, as if he had something important to tell me. Every time he’d tried to talk about it, something would happen and it would get put on the back burner.

“I’ll ask him,” I said. “But he might be stuck at work, what with the murder and all.”

“Could be, but I hope he’ll be there.”

“I’ll let you know,” I said. “And if Laura’s feeling better tonight, you two could always stop by the house. Or I can come to you.” Anything to get my mind off Andrew’s murder and Jules’s mysterious gift.

“We’ll see.” He popped open the door and stepped out into the cold. “I’ll see you soon. Okay, Buttercup?”

“Call me if you need anything.”

Dad nodded and climbed out of the car.

I watched him hurry back into Ted and Bettfast before turning my attention to the empty box that might hold the clues as to what was really going on in Pine Hills. “What was in you?” I asked it.

As expected, the box didn’t reply.