Read Going Organic Can Kill You Online
Authors: Staci McLaughlin
Going Organic Can Kill You (24 page)
25
I read the e-mail about Logan applying to Tiger Shark Studios again, but the words told me nothing new.
Bet Detective Caffrey would like to see these papers. Of course, he’d told me not to meddle. And how embarrassing that the police had missed the papers when they’d searched the room. Would Detective Caffrey accuse me of suppressing evidence, suggest I’d found the notes earlier and hidden them? Maybe I’d keep this info quiet for a bit. At least until I had a chance to talk to Logan myself. Like, right now.
I stuck the notes in my pocket and the book in the box. I’d come back for the box later. First I needed to track down Logan, find out if Maxwell could really lay claim to his screenplay. Would Logan fight it in court? Could he even afford to on an assistant’s salary? Murder might be a lot easier and cheaper to free himself from the contract. With a last look around the room, I pulled the door shut and made my way down the path.
Back in the main house, I went straight to the front desk, where Gordon jotted notes in the ledger, waiting behind the counter for all those guests who weren’t showing up.
Without preamble, I asked, “Did Logan mention stopping anywhere on his way out of town? I don’t recall him saying anything.”
Gordon kept writing for a moment, never one to hurry when I was the one waiting. He finally raised his head. “Not that I know of. Why do you want to know?”
“I, uh.” I stopped. I what? Wanted to accuse him of murder? Find out if he had a valid motive to kill his boss? “I just boxed up Maxwell’s stuff and thought he could take it back with him, save Esther the shipping charges.” I patted myself on the back for thinking up such a quick lie. Wait—was that a good thing?
“He must be well out of town by now.”
Gordon was probably right. “Maybe he stopped for a bite first. If you could give me the contact number out of his reservation file, I’ll give him a quick ring.”
“Total waste of time, if you ask me.”
I shrugged and gave Gordon my most disarming smile. “Can’t hurt to try.”
Grumbling under his breath, Gordon moved to the computer and punched a few keys. He squinted at the screen and jotted something on the tablet of paper in front of the keyboard. He tore off the sheet and handed it to me.
“I’m assuming this is his number, but the reservation was under Maxwell’s name, so I can’t be certain.”
Great. Maxwell’s phone had been next to him when I’d found his body. My luck, the phone was still in police evidence and when I called, Detective Caffrey would answer. How would I explain the call when I wasn’t supposed to be meddling?
I took the paper. “Thanks.” I rushed down the hall, certain that Logan was long gone but not ready to give up completely. I plunked down in the chair, snatched up the receiver, and punched in the number, crossing my fingers that Caffrey wouldn’t be on the other end. After three rings, I recognized the click as I was transferred to voice mail and let out my pent-up breath as Logan’s voice came over the line.
“Yo, it’s Logan. Leave a message.”
As the beep sounded, I mentally slapped myself for not preparing what I was going to say. I stumbled through the message. “Logan, hi, it’s Dana, you know, from the spa. The O’Connell Farm and Spa, that is. Well, what other spa would it be?” I let out a weak laugh and felt my face flush. “Anyway, I had a question regarding your stay here and need you to give me a call.” I rattled off my cell phone number and slammed the receiver down.
Lamest message ever. But maybe I’d been vague enough to pique Logan’s curiosity. I’d try his number again later to cover all the bases.
As I turned in the chair, Esther walked down the hall past the open office door, then popped back. Her face was devoid of makeup, her eyes red like she’d been crying. “Dana, I’m calling a staff meeting. See if you can round up the others. We’ll meet on the patio.”
A staff meeting. A lead weight sat in my belly. Esther wasn’t usually so official. Whatever she wanted to tell us couldn’t bode well for my future employment. Or the fate of the farm.
I popped back into the lobby, where Gordon still stood at the computer. I’d love to know what he did all day, always looking so off icial with his ledgers and clipboards.
“Any luck with Logan?” he asked.
“No, guess I’ll have to ship the box. But Esther wants everyone on the back patio for a staff meeting. Pronto.”
“What the hell does Esther know about staff meetings?”
“She is the boss, you know. See you there.” I hurried down the hall, looking for the others.
Zennia sat at the kitchen table, shelling peas, wearing her cow apron. The bowl in front of her was half full of the green balls. A bowl beside it held the empty pods.
“Staff meeting, back patio,” I said.
“Why is Gordon calling a staff meeting?”
“Not Gordon. Esther.”
A crease formed on Zennia’s forehead and she dropped the pod in the bowl. “Be right there.”
I walked out the back door to find Christian. The pool and surrounding chaises were still empty. Not surprising with no guests. Esther sat on a bench at one of the wooden picnic tables, head bowed. As I made my way to the cabins, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Gordon step out of the dining room and join her.
I rounded the corner to the cabins and stopped outside Sheila’s door. If Christian wasn’t at the main house or the general pool area, perhaps he was with Sheila. I chanted a quick prayer that I wouldn’t find them flagrante delicto, then knocked.
“Hello? Anyone there?”
Voices murmured behind the wood and the door opened. Christian stood shirtless before me, and I tried not to ogle his six-pack.
He froze in the doorway, like a ground squirrel that’s seen a hawk and is too far from his burrow. “Dana, I was teaching Sheila some meditation techniques.”
I didn’t have time to deal with the little soap opera when Christian discovered I knew about his relationship with Sheila, so I got right to the point. “Esther’s called a staff meeting. Everyone’s waiting on the patio.”
“Is the farm closing down?” he asked.
My question exactly. “I don’t know, but we’d better hurry,” I said, “or people will wonder what’s taking so long.”
“I’ll be back later to finish those meditation studies,” Christian told Sheila. He slipped a tank top over his head and followed me down the path.
“Sheila told me about that woman’s death,” Christian said. “We’ll definitely need to offer our support to Esther. I’m not sure she can save this place now.”
We arrived at the picnic table where Gordon, Esther, and Zennia waited on one side. Christian and I sat down on the other.
Gordon made a show of looking at his watch. “About time.”
Leave it to Gordon to make a big deal out of three minutes of waiting.
“My apologies, everyone,” Christian said. “I was enjoying nature. Centering my thoughts in these terrible times.”
Gordon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s get this meeting done with.”
Esther patted Gordon’s hand. Even if he had lost his own hotel business, Esther was much too tolerant of the guy.
“As you’ve all heard by now, we’re down to two guests,” she said.
“Don’t forget the reservations for this coming week,” Gordon said.
“I expect once Queenie’s death hits the major news stations, those people will cancel faster than you can say fiddledeedee.”
Gordon slapped the table, and I jumped. “Not if we get moving now. Dana can write a release for the local papers, post some specials on our Web site.”
“We could angle it toward a couple’s retreat,” I said. “Offer a room-service breakfast, champagne and chocolates in the evenings.”
Esther slid off the end of the bench and began pacing the patio. “Champagne might make me tipsy, but it wouldn’t let me forget I was staying at a spa where two people have died.”
“Only one person has died at the spa. Queenie was over on her own property,” I said.
“But the guests don’t see it that way,” Esther said. “And with no guests, I’m afraid I can’t employ you all full-time.”
My breath caught in my throat and I looked at the others. Two sets of wide eyes and one set of narrowed eyes looked back at me.
“Which one of us is getting the ax?” asked Gordon, owner of the narrowed eyes.
“I’m not firing anyone.” Esther settled back down on the edge of the bench. “Instead, everyone can work part time, at least for the next few days until we figure out whether we’ll have any guests left.” She looked at Zennia. “I can handle breakfast and lunch for two people. You’ll be in charge of afternoon snacks and dinners.”
“I can prep the veggies in the evening to shorten your work on the lunches,” Zennia said.
Esther shifted her gaze. “Christian, I’ll cut your classes to two a day, both in the morning.”
“One Pilates, one yoga. Got it,” Christian said.
Now her look fell on me. “Dana, work half days for your blog and other tasks. You can pick your hours.”
“Fine,” I said. If my work time was being cut, I might need to arrange my hours around the second job I’d be forced to get.
She had saved Gordon for last. I noticed the hand resting on the tabletop trembled a bit. “Gordon, you’ll need to cut your hours as well.”
“Don’t think you’re getting rid of me,” Gordon said. He stood up, hands balled on the table.
“Now don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Esther said.
An image of Gordon in old-fashioned underwear flashed into my mind, but I blocked it out. Now was not the time to laugh.
“My role,” he hissed, “is to keep this farm afloat. You can’t possibly run this place alone.”
Esther rose from her place on the bench and faced Gordon. I heard Zennia gasp and felt Christian stiffen beside me.
“My husband and I ran this farm long before you showed up. I appreciate your help but I won’t tolerate your sass anymore.”
I held my breath, sure he’d internally combust, flip the table over, kill a chicken with his bare hands, drown me in the pool.
Instead, he turned and stomped into the house, hands in fists at his side, like a five-year-old whose mom wouldn’t buy him a Happy Meal.
I watched his back until he’d passed through the dining room doorway. Gordon always seemed angry and suspicious of the world, lugging around a backpack full of bitterness. Had he killed Maxwell in a rage? Whenever anyone called him on his attitude, he backed down, but maybe he’d exploded with Maxwell. And what about Queenie? I still didn’t know how he’d seen the emergency vehicles from the farm.
“I’m sorry about that,” Esther said. Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t like to argue with my staff. Or in front of them.”
Zennia gripped her hand. “Gordon is too combative. I’ve offered him ashwagandha root, a known soul soother, but he refuses to recognize his problem.”
Esther fingered a button on her shirt. “He has such passion for this farm, such vision. And now it’s going under, just like his bed and breakfast.” She looked around the table. “Meeting adjourned.” She remained on the bench, staring at the wood surface.
Christian headed back toward the cabins, and I walked into the house, Zennia right behind.
“Want me to fix you an early dinner?” she asked. “I know you didn’t have a chance to eat lunch.”
“No thanks. I’ll stop for Chicken McNuggets on my way home.” Mom probably had a healthy meal planned, but after the day I’d had, I deserved something yummy and heart stopping.
Zennia groaned. “How can you possibly eat those? Did you know McNuggets and Play-Doh share a common ingredient? Dimethylpolysiloxane.”
“I haven’t eaten Play-Doh since I was three. Maybe I should give it another try.”
Zennia gave me a playful shove into the hallway.
I stopped by the office to update my time sheet, then hopped in my car. After a quick stop at the drive-thru, I pulled up to the house.
Ashlee met me at the front door and snatched my takeout bag from my hand. “Dana, you poor thing. How are you? Let me help you with that.”
I reached for my sack of processed chicken parts, but she’d whisked it away, along with herself. Plates clacked, the bag rustled. By the time I reached the kitchen, Ashlee had placed the carton and sauce container on a plate and set the meal on the table.
She rearranged the oranges and bananas in the ever-present fruit bowl, wiped a few stray crumbs off the table, and stepped back. “You’d probably rather eat in front of the TV.” She lifted the plate from the table and moved toward the living room.
“I can carry my own dinner.”
I made a grab for my cooling chicken, but she twisted around and kept walking.
“Nonsense. You’ve had a hard day.” She set the plate on the coffee table and placed the remote control next to it. “Anything to drink?”
Had aliens invaded Ashlee’s body? Where was my real sister? “Mom? You here? Mom?”
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