A Story to Kill (4 page)

“Sounds good. I'll buy.” Tom said to the man's back, as he'd spun around without even waiting for a response.

Sara stepped away from the group, following the dean. “I'll be back at the house later,” she called out to Cat.

“That girl doesn't know how to deal with a retreat,” Daisy said. “I doubt she'll get a word written during the entire week.”

Cat nodded. “Getting away from your normal life is part of the magic.” She nodded to Miss Applebome. “If you think you can find your way back, I'm going to leave you here.”

“No worries, I'm excellent at finding my way home. I'll take care of the group.” Tom put his arms out, making waving motions. “This way, kids; we get to meet the librarian.”

As Billy walked past her toward the conference room where Miss Applebome stood in the doorway, Cat heard him mutter, “What a complete ass.”

She was definitely going to look up the guy's background, just to be safe.

* * *

By seven, Cat had found enough on “Billy Williams” to be relatively sure that wasn't his real name. Worse, the guy had a blog page filled with comments raging against Tom Cook. If this was the same person, he claimed Tom had stolen his idea for
One More Try
, the book that had stormed all the lists and made the author a household name. Billy claimed they were in a critique group together in 2007 when he'd read his first chapter aloud.

Cat printed off most of the comments and blog posts and put them in a folder. She planned to call Uncle Pete in the morning and have him look over the file. If she was right, she guessed she'd have to ask Mr. Williams to leave. Stalkers were one problem she'd never even considered when she'd put together the idea for the retreat business. Of course, she'd also assumed her guests wouldn't be literary superstars.

As she closed up her office for the night, she decided to take one more step. Tom needed to know about the possibility of danger. Not that she really thought the guy calling himself Billy would do anything, but she'd sleep better if she had a chat with the writer. That way he could lock his door and not agree to some late-night barhopping with the only other male in the group.

Maybe she needed to change her application-screening process.
One bad apple
, she mused as she took the stairs to the second floor and knocked on Tom's door. She'd wait until she even knew this was a problem before she changed her process. No use fixing something that wasn't broke.

Tom didn't answer the first knock. She leaned in to hear if he was in the shower, but she didn't hear running water. Voices from what she assumed was a television show via Tom's laptop murmured through the door, but nothing else. She knocked again, louder this time and called out his name.

Shauna came up the stairs as she was knocking. “What's up?”

“There's a possible problem with Tom and another guest.” Cat knocked a third time. “Mr. Cook, I really need to talk to you.”

“Is Rose ready to kidnap him as her personal muse?” Shauna grinned. “The woman has it bad for the guy. I sat with them tonight in the living room and after two glasses, she'll tell you anything.”

“It's not Rose.” Cat reached down to the doorknob and hesitated.
Please let him be dressed.
“I'm coming in, Mr. Cook.”

Cat slowly opened the door but paused in the doorway. Her wish had been granted, the guy was fully clothed—laying on one of the oriental rugs she'd just purchased for all the rooms. Blood seeped out from around his head, turning the blue rug into a darker black. She turned to Shauna and blocked her from the room. “Call Uncle Pete, and have him come over now.” Even though she knew it was too late, she added, “Tell him to send an ambulance.”

Chapter 4

“I've finished interviewing everyone, so you're free to do whatever you had planned for today.” Uncle Pete poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot and sat at the large oak table in the kitchen. “Well, everyone except this Billy Williams character. What were you thinking, not checking him out before? I can't believe he'd use such an obvious fake name.”

“Honestly, it didn't hit me until he checked in. Then, when I asked him about it, he seemed not to even get the repetition.” Cat refilled her own cup and grabbed a blueberry muffin. She hadn't been to bed yet. After finding Tom's body, she'd been existing on coffee and sugar. She ran her hand through her hair. “We were planning on having a free writing day, but I think we need to get everyone out of the house for a while to unwind.”

Shauna took the muffin out of Cat's hand. “I'll take the crew down to the hot springs. You're going to bed.”

Indian Springs was a natural hot springs that used to be just a rock formation before a local entrepreneur had bought up the land next to the national forest and put in a pool. Now the commercial spa served as a great tourist stop, the advertising complete with legends of the water's healing property. Mostly it was a great place to swim and relax. The naturally heated water kept the place open all year. Cat had loved swimming there as a kid.

“I think I'm going to take you up on that offer.” Cat looked at her uncle. “Can you tell me how he died?”

“I can't release anything until Bob Jenkins gets a look at him.” Cat blinked in surprise. “Yep, it's the same guy. Your classmate is now the county medical examiner. He's been in the job for three years, since Harvey passed.”

Cat shook her head. She'd liked Harvey Newman. Since they were both widowers, Uncle Pete had always brought Harvey along to the family get-togethers. “No one should spend the holidays alone,” he'd say when she'd first asked him why Harvey was at their Christmas dinner. She'd been ten then, and her parents had still lived in the little ranch house across town. Now they were living in a senior complex in Florida, citing their inability to take the Colorado winters. Cat had understood, but she'd missed visiting when they'd lived on opposite ends of the country. Now that she'd moved back to Aspen Hills, at least she had Uncle Pete. And Shauna.
And Seth
. She involuntarily shook her head against the idea. Seth was her past. Just like Michael. The only difference was Seth would be here working on the house in less than an hour.

“I didn't know Harvey had died. Why didn't you tell me? I would have come back for the funeral.” Cat focused her tired eyes on her uncle.

“You were still upset about the whole Michael thing. I didn't want you to have to come back and see him with whatever co-ed he'd shacked up with that week. I swear, that man went through women like some men change their shirts. I can't believe you two stayed married as long as you did.” Uncle Pete stood and drained his cup. “I've got to be going. A murder is a big thing in our little town. I've got a meeting with the mayor and the president of the college in less than an hour. And the press is going to jump on this sooner or later. You need to be prepared.”

“Great, my new retreat will be known as the place Thomas Cook was murdered.” Cat laid her head down on the table. “I might as well give up and sell now.”

Shauna pushed her shoulder. “Now don't be going all dark on me. Like they say, any press is good press. Maybe Mr. Cook's ghost will stay around and help the unpublished writers that come to the retreat after him.”

“That's morbid,” Cat mumbled, unnerved that she was even considering the marketing possibilities. “It seems a little callous to turn his death into a promotional ploy.”

“Well, nothing is happening today except you heading off to bed.” Shauna pulled Cat to her feet. “Say good-bye to your uncle and get upstairs. I'll round up the guests and take them out for the day. We might even do a picnic lunch on the college grounds.”

Cat leaned into her uncle and gave him a quick hug. “Thanks for taking care of this. I'm sorry this had to happen here.”

“Nothing you did to cause this. Bad things happen everywhere, including Aspen Hills.” Uncle Pete nodded to Shauna. “You take her advice and get some sleep. Things will look brighter after you wake up.”

“Except for Mr. Cook,” Shauna added quickly. When both Cat and Uncle Pete looked at her, she shrugged. “Someone had to say it, we were all thinking it.”

Cat walked up the stairs and passed by her office. She wanted to go in and sit in front of her computer and work on her next novel. Writing calmed her in a way nothing else ever had. It made the world and all the bad things, like Michael's infidelity, disappear and she could create her own reality. One where good conquered evil and chocolate didn't make you gain weight.

Instead, she headed to her bedroom suite, closed and locked the door, and fell onto her bed, fully clothed. Exhausted by everything that had transpired, she closed her eyes and went right to sleep.

* * *

An insistent knocking pulled her out of a deep dream. She remembered running through the house, opening doors, and finding Tom Cook's body. Door after door in the dream opened onto the scene she'd etched into her memory. If she ran faster, she was sure she could stop him from being killed. So she kept opening doors. Finally, she found herself awake, sweaty, and lying on her bed in a tangle of the handmade quilt she'd bought at the local flea market.

Grabbing her bedside clock, she squinted to make out the time. Two-thirty. The sun was still shining through her window, so it had to be in the afternoon. She sat up and swung her legs to the floor. Shauna and the gang should be arriving back from their field trip, and it was time for Cat to get back into hostess mode. One murder was not going to ruin this retreat, not if she could help it.

She followed the sound of banging up the stairs and into the attic. Seth stood there in the cleared-out space. His shirtless back glistened with sweat as he swung his hammer, finishing up a set of homemade sawhorses. Cat watched as he tucked his hammer into his tool belt and leaned back, admiring his handiwork.

“What are you doing up here?” Cat's voice echoed in the cavernous room.

He spun around, his hand on his hammer. When he saw her, he visibly relaxed and his hand dropped to his side. “What does it look like? I'm working.”

Cat leaned against the doorway. “I thought you were working on the second floor rooms?”

“Well, with your uncle cordoning off the murder site, Shauna and I decided it was better for me to move to the library project rather than get in his way.” He appraised her rumpled shirt and shorts. “You have a nice nap?”

She ran her hand through her hair, remembering too late she hadn't even showered that morning. “I was up all night,” she said. Then she straightened her shoulders. “I don't have to explain myself to you.”

He chuckled. “And yet you did.”

The room got quiet for a minute, then he pointed to the wall. “You want to look at the plans?” He glanced around the room. “The place has great bones. You're going to love this when it's done.”

Cat walked over to the wall, glancing at the blueprints. She pointed to a spot. “Are these window seats?”

He nodded, moving to stand next to her. She felt the heat radiating off him and took a deep breath, trying to control the tingling coursing through her. He pointed to four different spots on the diagram. “Here, here, and these other two windows. I thought it would allow people to have kind of a private spot to work on their books when they come to your retreat things.”

Cat looked at him, surprised. “That's a great idea.”

He shrugged. “I know my buildings. I liked the army, don't get me wrong, but remodeling old places like this? That's my passion. Did you know there was a pool in town about how long you'll stay in business?”

“What's the pool say?” She turned to look at him.

He grinned. “Most people are going less than six months.” He turned back to the blueprint. “I put you at two years.”

“Well at least you believe in the idea.” She counted the number of built in bookshelves he'd drawn on the plans.

He bumped her with his shoulder. “I'm going long because I'm hoping I'll get to finish the remodel. Besides, I know how stubborn you can be.” He pointed to a bookshelf. “I'm thinking about making a few built-in desks rather than shelves in this area.”

She turned toward him. Looking at him filled her with memories. Her breath caught and she could feel the heat in her face. “Thanks, I think.” She fanned herself with her hand. “We really need to get the air ducts fixed up here.”

Seth shook his head. “I think you'll have to do a second unit up here. I checked out the one that cools the rest of the house and it's way too small. I know an HVAC contractor out of Denver who will give you a good deal.”

“Dollar signs keep running through my head.” Cat leaned against one of the sawhorses. “Now with Tom Cook's murder, who knows what could happen to the retreat. I'll be known as the place writers go to die.”

“You could spread some rumors about the guy's ghost haunting the place, helping out the unpublished among the visitors.” Seth walked closer to her and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I'm sure you'll make the best of your situation. You always do.”

Anger flashed through her and she bolted upright off the wooden stand. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “You know, you were always the one who had a few options. If plan A didn't go through, you had plans B and C ready to go. What do you think it meant?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe something about my marriage to Michael?”

Seth sighed and sank onto the sawhorse, sitting almost in the same spot where Cat had just stood up. “Look, I didn't like that you were dating that old guy. I figured you were trying to make me jealous. We hadn't been broken up for long when you first started seeing him. Once you decided to get married, I realized you must have been in love with him and I left it alone.”

She leaned against the wall, not able to walk away, not yet. “I saw you at the church. I thought you might say something.”

He walked over to her and lifted her chin so he could see her eyes. “It wasn't my place to say something. But if you needed a quick getaway, I wanted to be there for you.”

She felt his warm breath from his words and leaned toward him. He smelled like the wintergreen mints he chewed constantly after he'd quit smoking the year they'd broken up. He dropped his hands to her arms and gently stroked her from the shoulder down to her elbow and back again. “I'm glad you're back home.”

She might have purred if she'd let herself. Instead, she tilted her head, biting her bottom lip. “I'm glad to be home.”

They stood looking at each other and then he pulled her close. His lips brushed hers and she felt her body melt into his. The door at the bottom of the attic stairs burst open.

“Where is everyone?” Billy Williams called up the stairs. “I thought this was supposed to be some sort of guided retreat?”

“I'll be right down.” Cat called down the stairs. She whispered to Seth. “Do me a favor and call Uncle Pete and have him come over.”

Seth took her arm, stopping her from moving. “Are you going to be all right? Maybe I should go down instead.”

“Make the call, then come and join me. We'll be in the kitchen. I'm sure he'd appreciate a snack before he gets busy on his novel.” Cat took a deep breath and took a step down. She paused, her hand on the banister, and looked at Seth. “Just hurry.”