The Butler Didn't Do It (A Maddox Storm Mystery Book 2) (5 page)

Nate took charge of the situation, silencing my gaggle of guests and herding them to the side so he could gain access to Jack.

“ME and Forensic Unit’s on the way,” he informed Jack, his low baritone carrying in the sudden silent night. “Let’s get the scene taped and cordoned off.”

His gaze swept the area, lingered briefly in my direction, then focused on the others. “I’m sure you all appreciate the need to stand clear and let us do our job.” There was a long pause, then, “Were you all on some night walk when you came across the body?”

“No, I found her,” Mason piped up. “Well, Jenna and I did, and yeah, we were out on a stroll.”

“We heard the scream,” Charles offered.

“Miss Crawley was decent enough to wake us,” someone else said. “We came as quickly as possible.”

“Right.” Another long pause as Nate processed the information. “Well, the Forensic Unit will need to know who came into contact with the body or may have contaminated the scene.”

Every single person put their hand up.

Jack cleared his throat. “Um, they were all there, gathered beneath the tree, when I got here.”

Nate cursed.

I resisted the urge to point out that
some
of us had known better than to contaminate his scene. For now it was enough to smirk inwardly with the knowledge that, for once, I wasn’t the gnat in his investigation.

Charles stepped forward. “To be fair, we had no idea the woman was actually dead.”

“We thought we were supposed to be snooping around the body for evidence.”

“That’s what we came for, right?”

“I said something wasn’t right,” Julie Brown said in her nasal drawl. “No one can play perfectly dead that long.”

“
After
you pulled her shoe off and tickled her foot,” Jonas grunted. “And then we all realized the scene was real and not staged.”

“That’s when the cop pulled in,” Charles spoke up again. “Too little, too late, but we did clear out as soon as we realized our mistake. We’re not imbeciles.”

“Wait just a damned minute.” Nate shoved a hand through his hair, dragged it down his jaw. “Why would you think the death was staged and why the hell did you assume that gave you permission to crawl all over my scene?”

All eyes turned to me.

Traitors.

I squirmed as Nate approached with menacingly long strides. “Maddox Storm, I should have known,” he growled by way of greeting.

“Nate, it’s not what you think.”

His gaze lowered and got stuck.

I curled my toes into the squishy ground, conscious of my naked feet, but of course that’s not what had caught his eye.

He moved around me to get a better look at the bodies on the ground. “Is that…?” He squatted, tipped Joe’s chin up to the silvery moonlight. “Maddox, this is your husband.”

“I didn’t kill him,” I blurted out for some unearthly reason.

“No one killed Joe or Miss Crawley,” Jenna jumped in. “They fainted.”

Nate reached over Joe to feel Miss Crawley’s throat for a pulse. Satisfied that we weren’t a pair of psychotic murderers, he took another look at Joe, then glanced up at Jenna. “Fainted, huh?”

“Yip.” She lifted her face away from him to study the starry night. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

FIVE

I flopped into the armchair before the unlit hearth in the library with an uneasy sense of déjà vu. Oh, I wasn’t facing Detective Bishop across the stately leather-inset desk and he hadn’t brought out his notepad, yet, but the intensity of his sharp gaze made me feel like a guilty bug under a microscope all the same.

Jack had taken everyone’s statements earlier, but I was the only one who’d been hauled back in for a bonus round with Nate.

“I suppose I’m your number one suspect,” I sighed, trying not to appreciate how his biceps rippled beneath that long-sleeved ribbed t-shirt as he perched on the arm of the chair opposite me.

“Why would that be?” He watched me with those smoky grey eyes, dragged a hand through his messy brown hair and down over his chiseled jaw. “Because you stood by and watched your guests trash my murder scene, knowing full well they might have misconstrued the situation as some elaborate production in your mystery weekend schedule?”

“You give me far too much credit,” I retorted, not doing myself any favors in the intellect department, but goodness, did he honestly think I’d masterminded tonight to deliberately thwart his investigation? “How was I supposed to know they’d assumed poor Lydia Fieldman’s murder was just all part of the fun? And FYI, I distinctly told them that the murder would occur between nine and eleven in the morning. It’s not my fault they thought I’d lied to spice things up a bit.”

“It never is,” Nate muttered beneath his breath.

I glared at him. “I heard that.”

“Okay, so I’ll humor you,” Nate said, a slow smile hitching his mouth. “Let’s say you’re completely blameless in all things. Why would
you
think you’re top of my list?”

I clammed up. We’d been down this road before and I was a whole lot wiser than the last time. Nothing was off-record when it came to Nate. Anything I said could and probably would be used against me.

Nate tipped forward, cocked his jaw, warmth creasing into the corners of his eyes as he looked at me. “Hey, this is me. Even when you were my number one suspect, you never really were.”

I swallowed hard. That
reveal had come straight after our first—and only—kiss. Nate had worried how it would look, him being the lead investigator
not
investigating me—the number one suspect. I’d been horrified at the unjust accusation, naturally, but that wasn’t the lump in my throat now. I was thinking about his lips slanting over mine, the dip in my stomach, the desire threading through me, his ragged breath against my cheek, the hungry look in his eyes.

“Maddox?” he prompted.

I pulled myself together and dusted off the cobwebs in my head so I could think straight. This was exactly the sort of thing Nate excelled at, distracting one with charming grins and sizzling memories and, before you knew it, you’d offered up your first born child. Or, as the case may be, innocent information that he’d somehow twist to incriminate you. I liked Nate, I really did, but everyone had their faults.

“It’s late and my brain is scrambled.” I made a show of checking my wristwatch for emphasis. “Just drop it, okay?”

Actually, it was early, one o’clock in the morning kind of early. I’d brought everyone back to the house ages ago, but Nate had only just returned. The body had been removed, apparently, but the Forensics team was still busy out there.

“I can’t help you out of whatever bumbling mess you’ve made now if I don’t know what it is.”

Angry heat flushed prickles up my throat. That kiss?
Hisssstory.
“I haven’t bumbled into anything! I just had a suspicion about the rope, so I checked it out when I got back, and I was right. The rope I was supposed to hang Jenna with is missing from the wicker basket.”

“There are so many things wrong in that sentence.” Nate pinched the bridge of his nose, shook his head. “I’ll need to take a look at the basket.”

I nudged my chin sullenly toward the corner. “I smuggled it in here for safekeeping earlier, while Jack was taking statements.”

“You didn’t mention this to him?”

“He was busy.”

Nate gave me one of those looks of endless patience before he pushed to his feet and went on over to examine the basket.

“You’ll be pleased to hear that it’s unlikely we would’ve been able to pull prints from this,” he said. “You probably didn’t smudge any potential evidence.”

“I knew that.” I so totally did not, hadn’t even thought I might be smudging the murderer’s prints, but that confession would go to my grave with me.

Nate pulled his phone out and made a call. To a member of the Forensics Unit by the sound of it.

When he was done, he turned to me. “They’ve confirmed the rope has a trick clasp that was knotted over and a store tag. The Treasure Chest?”

“They have a dress-up costume section in the back.” My stomach cramped. There was no more denying it. I’d invited a killer into the house. “That’s where I bought it.”

“One of your guests is our murderer.” His brow creased deeply. “Which brings me to the reason I actually asked you in here, Maddox. Have you considered alternative accommodations for these people?”

“I already made the call.” I’d have to put up the cost, but what else could I do? Who’d want to spend the remainder of their weekend at a crime scene? “Fortune Paradise has rooms available.”

“Good,” Nate said. “I won’t have you spending the night under the same roof as a murderer.”

My spine stiffened, but I didn’t comment on that possessive statement. It had been one heck of a night and I had no wish to prolong it.

“Come on.” I stood and led the way from the library into the adjoining lounge.

My gazed skimmed the room while I waited for the chatter to subside. Jack had stationed himself in the archway between the lounge and reception area, as if guarding the exit against would-be escapees. Miss Crawley had made a remarkable recovery, but Joe still wore a somewhat dazed expression.

Jenna rushed up as soon as she saw me. “What’s the plan?”

Nate stepped forward. “We’re getting rid of everyone so we can wrap things up.”

“And he means that in the nicest possible way,” I told Jenna. “You, of course, are welcome to stay the night if you still want to.”

She sent me a curious look. “Did you just stick up for him?”

“No, that was a subtle reprimand,” I assured her. “Too subtle, obviously.”

Unimpressed, Nate placed himself in the spotlight and called for attention. “On behalf of Hollow House, I’d like to apologize for the disruption and any inconvenience. You’ll be pleased to know that Ms Storm has made arrangements for you to transfer to another hotel, the Fortune Paradise, and, um…”

He stalled as he glanced over the room, probably taking note of the sea of night-robed guests, possibly Charles Sitter’s bobbed nightcap in particular. “Right, so you may want to get dressed, pack your bags, and, well, if you could please do so as soon as possible—”

“Unacceptable.” Charles shoved his hands into the bulky pockets of his robe and puffed his chest out. “No one packs Charles Sitter the Fourth off anywhere, my young man. I’m staying right where I am.”

Ella Parker lifted her head from where it drooped on her husband’s shoulder. “Not going anywhere,” she slurred. “Staying right here.”

I dismissed the Parkers as the least of my concerns. Her husband was lights out, head thrown back against the sofa pillows, and Ella wasn’t far behind. They’d stay wherever I put them and likely not remember how they got there come morning.

“Fortune Paradise?” Julie Brown sat straighter, adjusting her spectacles. “That gaudy hotel with all the flashing neon lights?”

“It’s very modern and upbeat,” I spoke up quickly. “And I’ll cover the expense, of course.”

Jonas’ elbow slid off the bar counter as he turned to fully face me. “We paid for a weekend at a country manor, not some cheap roadside motel.”

I ran a hand across my forehead, soothing the ache that had begun to pulse there. “You’ll get a full refund, Mr Mayer.”

“Jonas,” he corrected with a wave of his hand. “We’re long past formalities.”

“Jonas…” I gave a small nod, smiled.

“I flew up from Denver for this,” Mason chimed in.

Great!
I sucked in a deep breath. “We can certainly discuss a refund for that as well.”

Nate turned his back on the difficult crowd and stepped closer to speak in a low voice, “You’re not obligated to pay for his damn plane fare, Maddox.”

“I’m not sure it matters at this point,” I grumbled. “He’ll have to fight the bank for it, anyway.”

“Maddox, dear?” Miss Crawley had crept up on us to peer around Nate’s shoulder. “I don’t believe you have a proper grasp on the problem here.”

Unfortunately, I believed I did. My ungrateful guests had taken one look across the lake and decided they deserved an upgrade. “We simply can’t afford rooms at Lakeview Spa Retreat. Mr Hollow would need to take out another mortgage and he already has two.”

She shook her head, unsettling a silvery curl from its neat coif as she stepped around Nate. “You’re dealing with the GRIMMS.”

“Thank you, Miss Crawley,” I pushed through a gritted jaw. “I’m well aware how grim the situation is.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” Jenna linked an arm in mine. “If they want to be stubborn about Fortune Paradise, I’ll have Jack put them up in a holding cell for the night. We’ll see how much they like
that
.”

“GRIMMS.” Miss Crawley huffed delicately (and yes, apparently that is possible.) “The Grand and Illustrious Mystery Masters Society.”

My mouth sagged open.

“Grand
and
Illustrious?” Jenna scoffed. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”