Death in Room 7 (Pine Lake Inn Cozy Mystery Book 1) (9 page)

I open the door wide and see her standing there.

In a blink, she’s gone.  Just the memory of her smiling at me remains.  Kevin caught me as I jumped back, the hair at the back of my neck standing up.  I held onto his arm to steady myself.

“Mom?  You alright?”

“Uh.  Yes.  Sorry.  Thought I saw something.”

“Like a ghost?” he joked, walking past me into the room.

I don’t answer him.  That’s kind of exactly what I just saw.

She’d been standing over by the window, in the same clothes I’d seen her wearing in my dream.  Darcy had told me how ghosts are often tied down to the place where their death occurred.  Sometimes they’ll appear in places that had a significant meaning to them, like their home, or their place of work, or a favorite park.  More often, it was where they died.

Maybe this was more Jess’s room now than I had realized.

As Kevin began looking under the pillow on the bed, and under the mattress, and obvious places like that, I went to the window where I had seen Jess.  I was very careful to walk around the blood stains from where she died, and the spatters of blood that led from there, along the floor, and up the wall to this window here.  In the dream, Jess had shown me something outside while standing in this same spot, something that I was only just remembering.

And there it was.  When I bent my head against the glass to look, I could see the partial imprint of a shoe on the windowsill, set into the spatters of blood that were still there.

The windows of my Inn all open outward, and there’s a wide ledge on each.  On the third floor the windows don’t open at all.  The insurance won’t allow it.  Down here on the second floor we’ve never had a problem with it.  At least, not till now.

“Kevin, come look at this.”

Dropping the mattress back into the frame, my son joined me at the window.  He frowned when he saw what I was looking at.  “You don’t have fire escapes on the Inn, do you?”

“’Course we do.  At either end of the second and third floors there’s an emergency door that opens out to an emergency ladder bolted against the side of the building.”

“But not on the windows.”

“No.  Not on the windows.”

He turned his head sideways, trying to get a better angle to view the print.  “Then why would our killer—Horace or whoever else—climb out the window after killing your friend?”

“We know he left the key in the next room.”  I didn’t mention that was the room Horace had been in.

But it was.

“Right, sure, so he went from this room to the other, I get that.  But why go out the window?  Wouldn’t he just walk down the hallway from here to there?  I mean, what did he do, jump?”

I agree it sounded like a pretty stupid plan, as murder plots went.  Horace kills his wife, then leaps from one window ledge to the next to get away instead of just strolling up the hallway past all the other guests…

Then the reason hit me in the face.  “Oh, I know why.  There’s guests staying at the Inn.  Even in the middle of the night, if Horace had left Jess’s room after killing her he risked being seen.”

“But jump from window to window,” Kevin added, “and you can leave the door locked behind you and not a trace you were even there.”

“Except for the blood he dripped to the window, and then stepped in.”

“Probably dripped off the knife he used to kill her.”  He thought it through as we stepped out into the hallway and over to the other room.  I got my key out as we went.  “If he was here at night, with the lights off, he might not have even known he was leaving the trail.  Or leaving prints.  I’ll have to get a picture of that.  Maybe even an imprint lift.”

In here, the place was still a mess from when the police had dragged Horace out.  No way was I thinking of this as his room.  The other one could be Jess’s room, but no way would this ever be Horace’s.  I looked around, knowing I was going to have to get the place cleaned up so I could rent it out again.

Would I have to do that with Jess’s room, I asked myself.  Yes.  I would.  Eventually.

Just not today.

“Here it is,” Kevin said, head pressed to the glass pane of the room’s only window.  “Not a footprint, but the edge of the sill is broke off.  Like somebody landed on it bad.”

“Okay.”  I brought myself back to the present and came over to see.  Great.  Something else for George to repair.  “So he used the key to sneak into her room, killed her, jumped from window ledge to window ledge, and exited through here when no one was looking.  That way no one would see him coming out of a dead girl’s room.”

“Amazing jump,” is Kevin’s comment.  “How’d he get in on this side?”

I sigh, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose.  “Easy enough.  We keep the windows open in the rooms that aren’t in use when it’s hot.  Keeps the place cooler.”

Kevin lifts the curtain screen away from the window.  It just hangs like a shade, simple enough and effective without being in a guest’s way.  Also made it easy for Jess’s Killer to slip in and out.

I opened my eyes again to see Kevin looking at me with that police officer look that he gets sometimes.

“I know, I know,” I told him, raising my hands in exasperation.  “I need to beef up security at the Inn.  How many times have you told me?”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“Well, if I’d known my good friend was going to be murdered in the room next door then I would have changed the locks!”

“Mom, it’s okay.  It’s not your fault.”

My son held me as I fought back the tears.  How I wish to God his father was here.  I’ve missed that man of mine for so long I can’t remember not missing him.  And hating him, too, for leaving us.  He was here for me when I started this Inn.  Then, poof, just gone one day.

Well, he wasn’t here for me now.  Kevin was.  He and I had a puzzle to put together.  No sense crying over it.

Because, hey, life goes on.  Whether we want it to or not.

“You really don’t think Horace did this?” I asked him, pushing out of his embrace and wiping at my damp eyes with my fingertips.

I could tell he was gauging his answer, second-guessing himself for telling me any of this.  Finally he shook his head, his eyes full of apology.  “No, Mom.  I don’t think Horace did this.  Too many things just ain’t adding up anymore.  I won’t let him go until I’m sure, but I think someone else killed your friend.”

There it is, then.  I square my feet and set my jaw and meet this as straight on as I can.  “So then, what are we going to do about it?”

“We?  Mom, this is police business from here on out.  I already told you too much.  Kind of figured you needed to hear it, but I’m the police officer in the family.”

“You’re going to find this Torey Walters, aren’t you?”

“Sure.  ‘Course I am.  She’s somewhere in Tasmania now.  We’re sure of that much.  Probably find her before the day is over.”

Well that was news.  “How’d you figure out she was here in Tasmania?”

He smiled like he’s got secrets his mother doesn’t know.  “I’ve got a friend working on it.  Thanks for the help.  Er, try not to let any more info slip out to the newspaper, right?”

I smile, because his mother actually does have secrets her son doesn’t know about.
 

Saturdays in Lakeshore are just like Saturdays most everywhere else in Australia, I suppose.

The town becomes a lazy backdrop of people walking dogs and mowing lawns and just strolling the streets.  ‘Course, some folks still have to work.  The Inn doesn’t run itself, for instance.  The police force is in the middle of a murder investigation—well, another murder investigation, I suppose I should say.  Lakeshore’s becoming just like Adelaide in South Australia.

Well.  Hopefully not that bad.

I had taken an early lunch, letting Rosie know I was going into town and leaving the “Please request help from the staff” sign on the registration desk.  Rosie hadn’t said anything to me but I could tell from her expression that she understood how Jess’s death was weighing on me.  She was being a good friend, letting me have space when I needed it.

The fresh air off the lakes was sweet in my lungs.  I could hear it rustling the pines all around.  People smiled and waved a greeting to me in passing.  Some of them, the ones who knew me better or who were just bigger snoops than the others, stopped me to ask about the murder in my Inn.  I was polite enough, but I’m sure they all got the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it.  None of the conversations lasted long. 

This was my own little walkabout, I suppose.  Time to clear my head and think.  Maybe something would occur to me that would put the whole mess into perspective and help me make sense out of the death of one of my oldest friends.

On Main Street, past the fountain, I suddenly found myself wandering by Jonas Albright’s church.  I’m not sure if I’d planned the route out or if my feet just took me where they thought I wanted to go.  I’m not a churchgoer, mind you.  My Catholicism lapsed years ago.  Sometime around when my husband left me, actually.  Maybe that wasn’t God’s fault.  I just couldn’t bring myself to face Him with so much anger in my heart.

But that was then, and this is now, as they say.  Right now I could sort of use some spiritual guidance.  Pastor Jonas Albright might just have an answer or two that I was missing.

The church was a one story building with a high peaked roof that was in need of repair.  Shingles were loose in more than one spot.  The soffit was loose around that one corner, and it probably hadn’t seen a fresh coat of paint in five years or more.  Lakeshore has only a small congregation.  Hard to draw funds for repairs when there weren’t that many hands giving.

A wooden cross made from crooked pine tree limbs was fixed above the front door.  The place was simple and honest in its faith.  I’ve always liked that about Pastor Albright.  Not a lot of us here in Lakeshore make use of his sermons, but he still struggles on, ministering to those who want to hear and those who need to hear besides.

Which was what I was hoping he could do for me today.

Up the front steps I went and then quietly slipped in through the door.  Not that there’d be big mobs of people inside to disturb.  Services were on Sundays, which would be tomorrow, and today the house of worship was just another building open to the Lord above and the townsfolk down here on Earth. 

Sure enough, there was just the one guy inside.  An older man with gray hair combed straight back from the high forehead of his gaunt face, wearing a long black overcoat.  A stout black cane was leaning up against the end of the pew where he was sitting.  He ignored me.  I didn’t recognize him, which was unusual for our small little town.  Maybe he was a friend of Pastor Albright’s.

The inside of the church was better kept than the outside.  Dark wood paneling everywhere and a worn but colorful red rug that covered every inch of the floor.  The pews were lined up in two neat rows.  They’d seen better days but they were polished to a shine.  At the front of the church was a raised platform with a small altar and a lectern where the pastor gave his sermons.

Except for the door that led to a back room that was mostly storage, that was all there was to the church.  Like I said, it was a simple place.  Thing was, Pastor Albright wasn’t here.

“Excuse me,” I said to the man in the pew.  “Sorry to interrupt you.  I was wondering if you could tell me where the pastor is?”

The man turned to me, his eyebrows up.  “Well now.  That’s quite the surprise.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.  This was a church, after all.  “I was just hoping to talk to him.  Is he around?”

The man regarded me for a moment before nodding with his head to the back room.  “I think you’ll find what you’re looking for in there.”

“Thank you.  You aren’t from around Lakeshore, are you?”

“Oh, but I am.  Before your time, I’m sure.”

“Well I wasn’t raised here, but I’ve owned the Pine Lake Inn over on Fenlong Street for a long time now.  I don’t think I’ve seen you there?”

“No,” he said to me.  “I don’t get out much.  Name’s Heeral Stone.  Pleased to know ya.”

“Likewise.  I’m Dell Powers.”

“Ah.  Well, that would explain it then, wouldn’t it?”

Why did I have the feeling this man wasn’t having the same conversation with me that I was?  “Explain what?”

He stood up, supporting himself with his cane while he stooped over the pew to pick up a short, flat-topped hat.  Then he walked up the row toward me.  “There was another Powers family in Lakeshore some long years ago.”

“Distant rellies,” I told him, although I didn’t know much about that side of my family.  “It was one of the reasons why I chose to own an Inn here.”

Heeral was walking past me now, eyes unfocused, like he was looking into the past.  “Long years ago,” he repeated.

He wasn’t quite to the door yet when I heard Pastor Albright calling to me from the front of the church.  “Ah, g’day Dell.  Was wondering if ya might be coming to see me.”

I turned and greeted him with a wave.  “Sorry to disturb you, Pastor.  I came in to talk a spell but I got distracted with your friend here…”

When I turned back to Heeral, he was already gone.  For a guy with a cane he sure moved quickly.  “Well, anyway.  Do you have a few minutes for me?”

“Of course,” Pastor Albright said without hesitation.  “I understand ya had a good friend die in your Inn.  She was visiting?”

I shifted on my feet.  News travels fast in a small town and I wasn’t surprised that he’d heard about Jessica already.  It was just hard to talk about it now, what with everything my Kevin and I had figured out.

He asked me if I wanted to sit down and I accepted gratefully.  Not that the wooden pews were very comfortable, but sitting down with him made me feel less like I was confessing my sins and more like I was talking to a friend.  We sat in the same pew, facing each other, and he waited patiently for me to begin.

Pastor Albright was a short and—some might say—scrawny specimen of a man.  His dog collar was a bright white strip at the top of his black short-sleeved shirt.  With those round glasses of his I’ve always thought he looked like an owl.  Especially now that his hair was receding on top.  He’d been there for me more than once when I needed his help, though, and there were a lot of folks in town that could say the same. 

Without going into details I told him about me and Jess, about her coming to the Inn, and about how she’d been found dead in her room.  There was nothing there that he couldn’t have read in the papers, to be sure.  After all, I hadn’t come to unburden my soul or ask if Jess had made it to Heaven.

I had another question in mind entirely.

“She sounds like an interesting person, your friend.” 

Pastor Albright had listened to my stories of our days in University, interrupting with questions I didn’t always want to answer.  I’d left out the part I’d recently learned, about her being a prostitute.  Legal or not, this didn’t seem the time or the place to bring up that little bit.

“She was one of my best friends,” I told him honestly.  Then I took a deep breath.  “I’m not entirely sure what to make of this, but I think maybe she’s still here.”

He reached out and patted my hand with his.  “Yes.  We often feel like the dearly departed are still with us, and it’s the truth that they will be, so long as we keep them in our hearts.”

“I suppose so, but this is more than that.  I have this other friend.  An American.  Her name is Darcy Sweet and—”

“Ah, yes!  I remember her.”  He seemed pleased to hear Darcy’s name.  “Nice girl.  Her and her hubby stopped at the church just the once, when they were here during that awful mess with the poisons.  How is she?”

“Fine.  She’s fine.  I was just on the phone with her, actually, about Jess.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”  I took another deep breath.  Now that I was at this point I felt foolish.  “Do you believe in ghosts, Pastor Albright?”

He sat back in the pew suddenly, trying to disguise the motion by crossing his legs.  “I…I’m not sure what ya mean by that.  Um.  Ghosts?  Why ask about such silly things?”

“Er, well.  What if it wasn’t silly?  What if…what if Jess is still here?  Her spirit, I mean.”

“Her ghost,” he suggested in a flat tone.

“Yes.”  I could see from his reaction that the topic was not sitting well with him.  Now I really did feel foolish.  I had figured if anyone in town would know about ghosts, and what to do to help them, it would be Pastor Albright. 

Darcy had told me ghosts were real.  She’d even told me that Jess could very well be haunting my Inn now—my words, not hers—if she’d been killed.  What she couldn’t tell me from half a world away was if Jess was really here, or if I was imagining it because I wanted to believe Jess was still around in some form.

I’d had this crazy thought that Pastor Albright might be able to come with me back to the Inn and, I don’t know…
sense
her ghost.  Help me reach Jess’s spirit and find out what had really happened to her.

That idea died pretty quickly when he stood up and began wiping his hands together vigorously as if he was washing himself clean of the conversation.  “There are no such thingums as ghosts, Dell.  When we die, we move on to God’s judgment.  Heaven.  Hell.  We can’t stay here in the mortal plane when we die.  We have to go to one place or the other.”

“So…there’s no such things as ghosts?”

His eyes rolled nervously to the front of the church, then back to me.  “It’s natural to want to keep our loved ones with us.  And we do, in our hearts and our heads.  Now, I might be just a simple apple eater and a backwoods preacher, but I reckon I know a few things.  See, people believe what they want.  It’s like I was telling this young woman who came through a few days back.  Torey, her name was.  She was confused about so many things.  The path is always clear, I told her, when you’re looking hard enough—”

“Wait.”  Could it be?  “Pastor Albright, you said this girl’s name was Torey?”

“Well, yes, sure.  Not all that odd for a young lady seeking answers to come here.  I always recommend going to church when you’re lost.  You’re here for the same reason, isn’t that right?”

It sure was looking that way.  I’d been looking for answers, and Jonas Albright seemed to have a very big one, even if he didn’t know it.  “This girl, Torey, was her last name Walters?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get her last name.  She was, uh, short.  Very thin.  Like she’d been sick.  Long black hair.  A tattoo of a snake on her left shoulder.  I thought you might’ve seen her by now.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, I sent her on to your Inn.  She needed a place to stay and as much as I want to be the Good Samaritan the Lord asks us to be, I thought it might look, um, suspicious for a single man to take in a wandering young woman like that.”

Torey Walters.  The prostitute that Jess had been calling.  If Torey was here, then Jess hadn’t just come here to visit me, her old friend Dell Powers. 

She’d come here to meet with Torey.

And then she’d been killed.

How did Horace fit into all of that?

The simple answer was he didn’t.  I refused to believe that.  He must’ve known about Jess stealing his card, or meeting with friends from her old life, and gotten angry, and found himself some phenobarbie-whatsit, and…and…

“Dell?”  Pastor Albright was watching me, waiting for me to say anything.  Or breathe, I suppose.  “Are you all right?”

I stood up, my mind racing faster than an emu being chased by wild dogs.  “I’m not sure if I’m all right or not.  I know more than I did when I came in.  I guess that’s a start.”

He moved out of my way as I stepped out of the pew and into the aisle.  I could be wrong, but I got the impression he was happy to see me go, and take my questions about ghosts and spirits with me.  “Well.  I’m happy I could help ya, Dell.  Come any time.”

“I’m glad I came in, too.  Your friend told me I’d find what I needed here.”

“Friend?  Did I miss someone?”

“The older gent.  With the cane?”  My mind was already on finding Kevin.  He had to know about this.  Torey Walters had been here.  Where was she now?

When I looked up the pastor was still staring at me.  His face had gone pale, his eyes wide.  “Pastor Albright?  Jonas, what’s wrong?”

He blinked, coming to himself and clearing his throat.  “Nothing.  Not a thing.  The older gent with the cane.  Yes.  Well.  I, uh, have to get back to writing my sermon.  Take care, Dell.”