Chapter Twenty One --

 

“We could offer an elopement package,” Bur piped up, sealing the deal. “I’ve been looking into it. We could attract couples from around the country. Maybe I’ll become a justice of the peace.”

“Elopements? That doesn’t quite seem like something that is on the up and up,” my mother frowned. “Do we really want teenagers flocking to the inn in search of legitimacy?”

“Not that kind of elopement,” Bur smiled, reaching over to pat Laurel’s hand. “Actually, the kind of folks looking for a nice, quiet inn, where they can marry and honeymoon, are typically older, with disposable income; most of the time, they’re getting married for the second or third time.”

“Disposable income...that sounds promising,” I decided.

“Oh, shoot,” my teenage assistant groaned. “That means we’ll get the old fuddy-duddies. They’ll probably wear granny shoes and polyester pant suits!”

“I beg your pardon,” Laurel said, taking umbrage at Jenny’s comment. “What, pray tell, constitutes ‘granny shoes’, young lady?”

“I just mean they won’t be looking for anything fancy. Stick a rose in the bride’s hand and she’ll think it’s a bouquet.”

“Not necessarily,” I replied, thinking. “We could do different kinds of wedding packages. Silver, gold, platinum....”

“Champagne.” Bur suggested. “That sounds elegant and expensive.”

“What really says luxury,” my mother wanted to know, “without scaring off potential guests?”

“...Margarita, Daiquiri,” Kenny kidded. “It’s ‘Jimmy Buffet time’ at the Four Acorns Inn.”

“You mean Jimmy Boo-fay. It rhymes with boo-kay,” Bur trilled, imitating the indomitable Hyacinth Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances.

“What if we offered a Champagne package, featuring chocolate and strawberries, Châteaubriand for two....” I countered as an alternative to Captain Peacock’s list.

“I’ve always thought the wedding cake was the highlight of any celebration,” my mother told us. “How would you handle that for an intimate celebration for two?”

“We could call them them ‘Sweet Weddings’, Mom; instead of a big wedding cake for a hundred guests, we’d provide a small masterpiece just for the eloping bride and groom.”

“Tiramisu, crème brûlée...what other romantic desserts for two are there?” Jenny wanted to know.

“I think we’re on the right track,” Laurel nodded approvingly. “We put on the ritz and make every celebration special.”

“We could advertise the Four Acorns Inn as the place to have elegant weddings for two to twenty guests,” I decided, pondering the possibilities. “We provide everything right here at the inn. All the bride and groom have to do is show up with their wedding clothes.”

“We’ll use Lacey’s place for larger wedding receptions and when there are extra guests to put up for the night,” Bur announced, his enthusiasm growing. “What about offering an exclusive weekend wedding package -- three days and two nights, with a Friday night welcome reception, the wedding on Saturday, and a farewell Sunday brunch?”

“Like we’re doing for the Pinault and Magnusdotter families?” Jenny seemed enthusiastic about the idea of people flocking to the inn. “That would be fun.”

“Hmm,” Laurel sighed. “I like the sound of that.”

Even Kenny thought it was a good idea. “It’s a weekend to remember for a lifetime. How’s that for a slogan?”

“It’s better than your previous suggestion of ‘where nutty is the norm’. Speaking of weddings, we’ve got a big day tomorrow. Why don’t we call it a night?” I stood up to clear the table. “I’ve got to get....”

And then it hit me -- weekend weddings, with everything from meals to marriage vows. I suddenly knew who was stalking us and why. “Karin has to be the culprit!”

“Maybe,” said a rather reluctant Kenny. “It makes sense, I suppose.”

“You suppose? You know I’m right, Captain Peacock!”

“Say what?” Bur looked at me like I had three heads and was eligible for The Guinness Book of World Records. “Where did that come from?”

“What are you two talking about?” My mother was suddenly concerned. “Scarlet?”

“That’s what this campaign of harassment has been all about from the beginning. Karin wants to take over the inn so she can host three-day events, complete with guest rooms and fine dining,” I announced. “We interrupted her plan to expand her own business.”

“Oh, of course!” Jenny sighed. “She wants the inn for herself.”

“And she can’t have it if you guys are successful with this wedding, because you’ll want to expand your business,” Shark Boy pointed out. “She’s trying to beat you to the punch, as my dad would say.”

Bur poured himself another cup of coffee. “I’m surprised she didn’t go after Myrtle and Willow, and try to make it a trifecta. That’s a pretty nice house they have and it’s right between the two mansions.”

“Maybe she did, Colonel, or plans to eventually.” Our eyes met as Kenny said that. There was real relief on his face. We were coming to the finish line on the big wedding race, and at the moment, the Four Acorns Inn was in the lead. “All we need now is the proof.”

“You think you can get it?” Suddenly my brother, part owner of the inn, was more than a little interested in the answer. He had a lot riding on the outcome.

“I’m certain of it. By the time Mercer Security wraps this up, Karin and her partners in crime will be behind bars, trying to make bail, and Lacey will be able to take possession of Wallace’s mansion once again.”

“I do hope you’re right, Kenneth,” my mother told him, backing her wheelchair up and moving away from the table, “and preferably before the wedding guests arrive.”

“It’s a promise, Mrs. W. You can count on me.”

Despite all the pressure he put on me to trust him, especially with that silly deal he’d made, I had to admit that I still didn’t quite believe our effort to get Annalee Pinault and Gunnar Magnusdotter down the aisle would be glitch-free. But watching him reassure my mother that she had nothing to worry about vaporized all but a few niggling doubts. He had committed to providing security for the inn and he had too much respect for Laurel to disappoint her. This would all work out in the end. We’d get the happy couple united in marriage. I just hoped we didn’t have to climb over any bodies to do it.

After I got the kitchen cleaned up and the dogs walked, I stopped to say goodnight to my mother on my way to the third floor.

“Scarlet, I’d like January to stay with me tonight.”

“Sure, Mom.”

Laurel patted her bed and the little Jack Russell terrier hopped up on the foot of the bed and settled down. This was becoming a habit, but in a good way. The little yapper would alert her to any danger. For someone stuck in a wheelchair and vulnerable, that equaled some serious peace of mind.

“It looks like she’s content.” I told her, scooping up Huck.

“It does.” My mother picked up her book from her nightstand. “I just hope it’s a quiet night. I’ll be glad when Kenny and Max solve this case and life goes back to normal.”

“Those are my sentiments too, Mom.” I softly closed her door and climbed the stairs. I got into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. Jenny came up a short time later, Mozzie on her heels.

“See you in the morning, Miz Scarlet,” she called out on her way to her room.

“Sweet dreams, Jen. Sleep tight.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” she added.

I settled myself in bed, glad to have the little Yorkie cuddled up beside me. Picking up Little Red Riding Hood and the Secret Cookie Recipe, I read a couple of chapters. When my eyes began to have trouble focusing on the printed words on the pages, I surrendered to exhaustion and turned out the light; within a few minutes, I was drifting off to sleep.

The sound of loud voices woke me just after two. Groggy, I reached over and turned the switch on the lamp, flooding the room with light. What was Jenny doing up at this hour, with the TV volume turned up so high? An agitated Huck pawed at my door, his whimpering drowned out by the noise.

“What is wrong with that girl? She’s going to wake the dead!” As my eyes adjusted to the light, I flipped back my covers and crawled out of bed, setting my feet on the floor. “Come on, Huckleberry.”

We made our way down the short hall to the unlit sitting room. The television was off.

“That’s odd.”

Jenny’s door was closed. I paused a moment, listening. The voices were fainter here. As I turned to go back to my room, I saw soft blue lights swirling around the walls of the sitting room in some sort of animated light show. They blinked on and off. “Oh, my God!”

Hurrying to the window, I gazed out at the sight below. There were police cruisers in the driveway and tiny figures running around the garden.

“What in the blazes is going on?” I cried. In my haste to find out, I almost got to the bottom of the stairs before I realized I was still in my pajamas. “Crap!”

Back upstairs I went, two steps at a time, and fumbled through my drawers for clothes. With fingers trembling and lungs tight with fear, I managed to pull on a respectable pair of jeans and a shirt before I shoved my feet into my favorite pair of Topsiders. By then, I had company.

“What’s happening?” Jenny’s voice caught me off guard as I reached for my cell phone on the nightstand.

“I don’t know. I’m going to check now.”

“I’ll come with you,” she replied.

“No, Jen. You take the dogs and go down to the other bedrooms. Make sure everyone is awake and safe. I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s going on.” I handed Huckleberry over and tried to give her an encouraging smile. “The police are already here, so whatever happened, they’re handling it.”

“I hope everyone’s okay.”

“So do I.”

I knocked at the door of the storage room, but got no answer. Peering inside I could see Max was gone. The monitors showed people coming and going in the garden, and as I watched, my sense of urgency grew. What was going on outside?

The house was dark as I made my way down to the first floor. I flipped on the hall lights one by one, banishing the shadows as I hurried to the back door.

All of the party lights for the Pinault-Magnusdotter wedding were on in the garden, casting a soft glow over the crime scene. I recognized Officer Burnley as he passed me.

“What’s happening?” I hailed him. “Is everything okay?”

“It seems to be. You had a couple of vandals in your yard, but Mr. Tolliver managed to contain them. We’re taking them down to the station for questioning.”

I found Kenny leaning against a cruiser, having a conversation with Detective Valboa. The moment his eyes lit on me, he straightened up, unfolded his arms, and greeted me cheerfully.

“I hope you’ve been working on that well-deserved apology.”

“What?” I stopped in my tracks. The Cheswick police investigator standing beside him stepped in to explain.

“Ken devised a clever scheme to catch the bad guys and it seems to have done the trick. They were nabbed in the act.”

“Thanks to the men and women of the Cheswick Police Department,” said Kenny, giving credit where credit was due. “They were staking out the place.”

“You caught Kradic and Zarelli?”

“We sure did, and it’s off to the slammer for the bums. They won’t make bail easily, not with all the hard evidence. So, where’s my apology? I believe you said you would shout it from the top of White Oak Hill, but I was thinking you could take out an ad in the Cheswick Crier. Nothing too flashy, but it should be enough to let the public know I did a fine job.”

“Alas, Captain Peacock, you’re jumping the gun. Did you forget that the wedding has yet to occur?” I reminded him. “Until Annalee and Gunnar are officially hitched, you’re on the hook. Better get some rest, handsome, because you still have at least another thirty six hours to go.”

“She’s a tough cookie, Tolliver. It sounds like she means business,” Detective Valboa laughed. “You can’t really blame her, given all the crazy twists and turns this case has taken.”

“It’s been an absolute three-ring circus,” I reminded them. “The Wilkies might have put on the big cats show in the ring, and Kradic and Zarelli might have been the clowns, but we still haven’t met the ringmaster.”

“That’s the thanks I get for rolling up the suspects with my ingenious plan?”

“Well, I guess I could give you a little incentive on account, to keep you going,” I laughed, planting a warm kiss on his lips.

“That’s more like it,” he told me, tucking an arm around me as we walked back to the house.

“Wait a minute.” I suddenly halted at the back door. “Where is Max? Why isn’t he out here?”

“Good heavens, woman. We don’t throw all our cards on the table at once! He is, as we say, otherwise occupied.”

“Oh, you’re still on it. What a clever man you are!”

“I am.”

Laurel and Lacey were in the living room with Jenny, watching the action through the windows that overlooked the backyard. Kenny reassured everyone that things were well under control.

“The show’s over, folks. Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day for Miz Scarlet and the Four Acorns Inn.” I caught the smug glance he shot me and saw that little smirk form on his lips. He was already salivating in anticipation of my humble plea for forgiveness.

We headed back to bed in the wee small hours of the night, feeling relieved. What could go wrong with the wedding? Now that Neil Kradic and Bobby Zarelli had been arrested, it was only a matter of time before they confessed and rolled over on the mastermind. Karin didn’t know it, but she was about to join them in jail. Kenny felt confident that before the day was out, the Cheswick Police would have the evidence they needed to arrest her. That thought brought me great comfort as I closed my eyes.

Just as the sun began its glorious ascent in a nearly cloudless azure sky, I rose from my bed. Tired, but motivated, I quickly dressed, walked the dogs, and then got started with breakfast for the group.

Flipping French toast on the griddle, I found myself humming classic show tunes as I made breakfast. If I had been all alone, I probably would have burst into my rendition of Get Me to the Church on Time. There was no denying the fact that I was nearly giddy with anticipation of the first wedding at the Four Acorns Inn. The scent of warm maple syrup just seemed to sweeten the moment.

“You’re in a good mood.” Kenny stopped to kiss me as he passed through the kitchen on the way to the dining room. “It’s nice to see a smile on your face for a change. I was getting rather sick of that schoolmarm scowl.”

“Were you?”

“I was. I much prefer you as the pretty innkeeper who happens to make fantastic French toast. Pile them up. I’m a hungry guy this morning.”

“You’ve got it.”

By nine, breakfast was over and I was back in the kitchen, whipping up the chocolate mousse filling for the wedding cake. The aroma that wafted up towards my nose as the bittersweet and semi-sweet chocolate merged in the double-boiler was tantalizing. I put the pan aside to cool while I whipped my heavy cream. With a light hand, I folded the ingredients together, relishing the beautiful consistency. This cake was going to be a winner. With a sigh of satisfaction, I covered the bowl and put it into the refrigerator to chill. It was time to move onto other things.

The weather report promised sunny skies for the next few days. With the bar tent already set up in the garden for the wedding, I decided we could hold the cocktail hour outside and serve tonight’s welcoming dinner on the sun porch. First, though, we had a little decorating to do. I rummaged around in the attic and pulled out some silk boxwood garlands we used for a party last year. Jen and I got busy wrapping them in white fairy lights. These we draped around the room at ceiling height, to create a warm glow at twilight. Once that was done, I stepped back, surveying the scene.

“What do you think?” I asked her.

“So far, so good, but won’t the overhead porch light spoil the twinkling lights?”

“I have some lattice work candle lanterns we can use on the table.”

All of the flowers for the festivities had been picked up yesterday, inspected, and approved; they were resting comfortably in the refrigerator up at Bur’s. Jenny retrieved two mixed bouquets and we got busy.

“What do we do?” she wanted to know. I handed her a pair of scissors, some wooden floral picks, and florist tape.

“This will be our centerpiece.” I showed her a large natural wicker basket lined with plastic and wet florist foam, ready to be filled. “We cut the stalks of the sturdy flowers and stick them directly into the foam. The more delicate blossoms get strapped to the picks and wrapped with tape. And when we’ve got the flowers in place, we’ll add sprays of boxwood and myrtle from the garden.”

“Wow. This is going to be beautiful, Miz Scarlet.”

After breaking a couple of stems, Jenny finally got the hang of handling the blossoms. When the basket was filled, she called me to inspect it. I turned it slowly, looking to see if there were any bare or uneven spots. There weren’t.

“You did a nice job,” I informed her, smiling.

“I did, didn’t I?” She was obviously pleased by her first attempt at flower arranging. “Now what do we do?”

“It’s time for linens, dishes, silverware, and glasses.” We started by dressing the long, narrow table with a blue damask cloth and napkins. Once the last little candle lantern was tucked next to the salt and pepper shakers, we stepped back to admire our handiwork.

“We should include this in our wedding brochure,” my teenage assistant decided. “Who wouldn’t want to come here?”

“That’s a good idea.” I took several photos of the room, including a few of the furry feline napping on one of the chairs. Scrub Oak looked utterly at home as he lounged, one paw outstretched, as if to beckon prospective visitors to give the inn a try.

Just before eleven, I pulled the chocolate cake from the freezer and assembled it. Slicing the layers in half, I spread the mousse on top of each and stacked them on a cardboard cake circle. I beat the white chocolate frosting until it was smooth, and with my pastry tube filled, I was ready to decorate. Carefully piping the frosting over the luscious dark chocolate masterpiece, I covered every inch of that cake with ruffles of white. Before the frosting set, I topped it with the two little birds the ladies found at the party store. Satisfied that it was safe from harm in a plastic cake box, I tucked it into the refrigerator. Tomorrow, just before serving, I would place it on a crystal platter.

I took a break and finished getting the third floor suite ready. Jenny and I had moved our own things temporarily into an attic storage room, leaving the closets and dressers empty for the wedding guests. Once the bed linens were changed and the guest baskets were on their respective tables, I carried the two suitcases that she and I had packed down to the second floor for our temporary stay in Lacey’s room.

Since the wedding dinner was to be shrimp cocktail, spring greens with raspberry vinaigrette, filet mignons with béarnaise sauce, roasted asparagus, and mashed potatoes, I planned to do a lighter meal for Friday’s gathering. Lemon-honey chicken was the bride’s choice, so I concocted my marinade and let the chicken bathe in it while I assembled a spinach salad.

Laurel was in the living room, putting together another batch of background music for the cocktail party and dinner hour tonight. When I heard Frank Sinatra sing about flying to the moon to play among the stars, I felt like I too could soar. This wedding business was heavenly. A few more photographs of the garden and the rooms would seal the deal for our website. How many weddings could we reasonably do in one month? By my estimation, the number was two or three.

By the time my mother had Tony Bennett crooning that love was lovelier the second time around, I was positively giddy, thinking once Bur moved out of the carriage house, we could transform it into a charming honeymoon cottage. I should have known my luck wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. There were too many dark forces at work behind the scenes.

Two loads of laundry later, I was ready to take the dogs for a hike through the woods. I let my mind wander as I followed the meandering path through the laurels and wild dogwoods, past the vernal pond where the frogs lay their eggs, and up to the rock cliffs, doing a mental inventory of wedding preparations. The dogs had no trouble keeping up with me, despite my quick pace. I made it all the way to the top of the summit, crossed the old carriage road by the ruins of an ancient hut, and then descended on one of the front trails, where I left the public park and passed by Wallace’s house on the way back to the inn.

The path was shared by the Googins girls and Myrtle as commonly held land. How would they feel about adding a bench or two along the way, perfect for resting in the shade on a hot day? And what about a small picnic pavilion, perfect for a basket lunch or an intimate wedding ceremony? I felt invigorated as I reached the grounds of the inn.

“That ought to tide you two over for a few hours,” I told them as we came up to the back of the house. My gaze took in the sight of the sun porch door swinging gently in the light breeze. “Look at that. Bur must have left it open. Just what I don’t need -- flies in the kitchen!”

I got as far as the steps when my mouth dropped wide open. The sun porch looked like it had been hit by a tornado. “No!”

The beautifully set table was in shambles. The wicker basket was now upended and the flowers were strewn all over the floor, along with banged up lanterns, shattered plates, and shards of glass that had once been water goblets. For a brief moment, I thought about blaming the cat, but Scrub Oak was nowhere to be seen. Had Kradic and Zarelli gotten bail?

The dining room seemed untouched by the malevolent powers that seemed to have invaded the Four Acorns Inn. I hurried down the hallway to check on my mother.

The living room was empty, but undisturbed. I glanced out the window at the spot where Lacey usually parked her car. It was empty. “Maybe the Googins girls went out.”

I went to the foot of the stairs. “Jenny? Have you seen Laurel?”

A loud thump caught my attention. With my hand on the banister, I paused, listening carefully. It sounded like someone was up there. Was it my assistant or my mother? A terrible thought struck me. Had Laurel fallen? Dashing up the steps, I rushed to her bedroom. The door was open. “Mom?”

I stepped into the room just as a text pinged on my cell phone. That would have to wait. I crossed the room and entered the bathroom. “Are you in here?”

I got no answer to my question, but I noticed the shower curtain was drawn tight. Perhaps Laurel didn’t hear me. I tried again. “Mom, are you okay?”

There was still no reply. Nor was the water running. Had Laurel slipped on the tile floor and hit her head? Now my heart was racing as I pulled the fabric to one side, terrified of what I would find. I forced myself to look.

A sudden movement inside the stall surprised me. There was barely enough time to flinch before the bottle of Pantene bounced off my forehead and a pair of hands gave me a rough shove backwards. I struggled to remain on my feet. “Mom? It’s me!”

It’s funny how the brain works. Even as my mind was taking in the sight of the figure in front of me, it registered the fact that this woman was at least a head taller than Laurel, decades younger, and much more aggressive. A part of me realized that there were other differences, like the hair color was wrong and the woman was fully clothed. But by that time I found myself being pummeled mercilessly, and as I tried to evade the blows, they seemed to follow me everywhere. I cowered, sinking lower and lower towards the floor, until I was curled into a knee-hugging ball of human flesh and bone. Much to my horror, I saw a high-heeled foot pull back and swing towards me. By that time, the shock of yet another intrusion at the Four Acorns Inn had worn off and I was already moving forward, hurling my body at my assailant.

“Oh, hell no!” I hollered as I connected with the skinny maniac now bouncing against the tiled surface. “How dare you!”

Every woman has a limit of what she can and will tolerate when it comes to nonsense. I had reached mine. By this time, adrenaline was pumping through my veins, energizing me with some kind of delusional super power. I pulled my right fist back and aimed it at my assailant with a ferocity that shocked me with its primitiveness. I was damned if I was going to lose this fight.