Pattern of Betrayal (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 2) (8 page)

It occurred to Julie that if she wanted information about her guests, she was going to have to get it on her own. Detective Frost certainly wasn’t going to be any help, if her conversation with him earlier in the day was any indication.

The guests were all out enjoying the town, so Julie chose the next best thing to direct questioning. She booted up her computer and punched in the first guest’s name.

“Knock, knock.” Hannah was standing in the doorway with a plate of pastries.

“Come in, especially if those treats are for me.” Julie leaned back in her chair and eyed the plate. “Is that what I think it is?”

“I thought you could use a little culinary pick-me-up.” Hannah shrugged, but Julie had a feeling her friend was near to bursting with pride. “Millie thought it would be good to play up the whole German town thing.”

Julie forked off a piece of the flaky cinnamon strudel and didn’t even try to stifle her moan of pleasure as she took a bite.

Hannah looked uncharacteristically pleased with herself.

“This is almost as good as pickles and caramel,” Julie teased, knowing Hannah was repulsed by Julie’s comfort food of choice.

Hannah scrunched her nose. “This is so much better.”

“You’re right.” Julie said. “And if you keep this up, I’ll gain twenty pounds by fall.” She took another bite and sighed as the pastry melted in her mouth.

Hannah settled into a nearby chair and watched Julie eat.

“You really missed your calling, you know that?” Julie said.

“How so?”

“You should have been cooking professionally long ago.”

Hannah tucked her feet underneath her. “Maybe. I am
really enjoying it.” She waited a heartbeat before continuing.

“Is this going to mess everything up?”

“This?”

“The murder.”

“Absolutely not.” Julie shook her head, though she wasn’t as certain as she pretended to be. Still she knew how badly her friend wanted to remain in Straussberg. Hannah had fully embraced life in small-town Missouri. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Hannah grimaced. “You know what I mean. Do you think this was the work of the …? Well, you know. Do you think they mistook Alice for you?”

Julie was a good three inches taller than Alice Peyton, and she hadn’t been in the room for most of the time the power was out. But she
had
been there when Alice was struck.

“I don’t think I was the target, if that’s what you mean.” Even as Julie said the words, worry seeped into her thoughts. It had been dark in the dining room. Very dark.

“Have you been investigating?” Hannah nodded toward the computer.

“Just got started.”

“Anything interesting come up?”

“Not yet.” Julie took another bite of the pastry and then set the plate on her desk. A couple of clicks later the face of her first guest filled the screen. “Gregory Wilson was arrested,” Julie said with some alarm. “He took a rare baseball card from a store in Montana.”

“Did he go to jail for it?”

“Yeah, looks like he did. He was also accused of stealing a painting in California, but those charges were dropped.”

“Well, theft and murder are worlds apart,” Hannah pointed out.

Julie just raised an eyebrow at Hannah and typed in another name. “Sadie Davidson is a retired librarian. She never married and has three cats. She and Joyce have been friends since grade school. Joyce was recently widowed when her husband died of a heart attack.”

“We knew all this already.”

Julie nodded. “Both are on a fixed income.”

“And that is suspect how?” Hannah asked.

“Well, it’s a little strange. There are cheaper places to stay in the area than the Quilt Haus Inn. It didn’t have to be their first choice for a simple vacation.”

“But think about it,” Hannah said. “All Sadie has talked about since she got here is quilting. And they get two meals a day included in the weekend’s special price as well as the evening entertainment. Even with a more expensive room rate, it’s a pretty good deal.”

“I suppose. They
did
mention that a murder mystery was on their bucket list,” Julie conceded. Before she dismissed them from suspicion, she scanned the screen for any information she might have missed. “What about this? Joyce lost all of her money in a Ponzi scheme.”

“All of it?” Hannah’s eyes were wide with surprise.

“She’s a complainant in a lawsuit against an investment company, but there aren’t too many details about it.”

“If she lost all of her money, then how did she pay for this?”

Julie shrugged. “Sadie?”

“Maybe. What about … Alice Peyton?” Hannah hesitated briefly before saying the woman’s name.

Julie couldn’t say she blamed her friend. They’d both seen a lot in their years recovering stolen antiquities, but never anything so morbid this close to home. She typed “Alice Peyton” into the search engine, and several hits came up. Julie
chose the one that looked like the Alice that had been staying with them at the inn. “Single, mother of two, worked for a man named Eric Rutherford from Rutherford International.”

“What of kind company is that?”

Julie shrugged. “It doesn’t say.” So why did it sound so familiar? She leaned back in her seat and forked up another bite of the strudel.

“Why are you frowning at my strudel?” Hannah demanded.

“That name. It sounds so familiar.” Julie tapped her fork on the plate as she tried to remember. Then it hit her. “Eric Rutherford is the expert I called to appraise the Civil War journal.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Julie typed his name into the search engine. “Yep. Same one.” Which meant Alice definitely knew about the journal when she came to the inn. The newspaper section in her suitcase was no fluke. But what would any of that have to do with murder?

“I guess this is too bizarre to be a coincidence,” Hannah said, her brows furrowed.

“And the story gets weirder.”

“How so?”

“Alice’s family came by this morning. They were a strange bunch, to say the least.” Julie recounted the odd trio who had shown up to get Alice’s bags. “And then they told me that they didn’t buy her this weekend trip. They claimed her boyfriend bought it for her—and she wasn’t divorced, but widowed.”

“Why would Alice lie about something like that?” Hannah asked.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. It’s a weird lie to tell. Her son said maybe I misunderstood, but I vividly remember her saying that.”

Hannah nodded and then waited as Julie tapped away at the keyboard.

“Kenneth and Susan Calhoun,” Julie announced the names of the next two guests. “He’s an overworked podiatrist. She’s a housewife and part-time office manager for Kenneth’s practice. Mother of three.”

“Exactly who they claimed to be?” Hannah asked.

“Almost too much so,” Julie muttered.

“Don’t let your imagination get the better of you,” Hannah warned. “Stick to the facts.”

“Well, we have to conjecture a little,” Julie said. “And there’s something not right about those two.”

“Yeah, they’re terrible,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “People who have nothing to hide are the
worst
.”

Julie shot her an annoyed look and continued. “They have three children—two boys and a girl. All three are in college.”

“And?”

“His website says he extended his hours of operation as of last year. Maybe the doctor is trying to make ends meet. He did say this is the first vacation he’s had in three years.” Which proved absolutely nothing.

“So, that’s it on them?” Hannah asked.

“No,” Julie said, holding up a finger. “Susan’s father was an art collector. Nothing big though.” It was the closest thing to a connection she had. She wondered if Susan Calhoun’s tie to the art world could be relevant.

“And Carrie?” Hannah asked.

“I can’t find Carrie at all.”

“Really?”

Julie shrugged. “Nineteen listings pop up, but only three are in Missouri. And none matched the picture of our Carrie Windsor.”

“Where did she say she was from?” Hannah asked.

“Kansas City.” Julie drummed her fingers on the desk. “But maybe she meant Kansas City,
Kansas
.” Julie searched, but there were no listings in Kansas. “Huh.”

“Perhaps ‘Carrie’ is short for something. Like ‘Carolina.’”

“Could be,” Julie said. “But it could just as easily be short for something else.”

“That only leaves the handsome Dr. Liam Preston.” “Right.” Julie typed his name into the search engine window and scanned the results list that appeared on her screen. “Do you suppose Liam is short for William?”

Hannah raised her brows. “No idea. Why?”

“Liam Preston lives in New York with his two Yorkies and his very young assistant. He’s eighty-four years old.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Liam Preston staying here. He said he was a professor at a university in Missouri, right?”

Julie was just about to close out the browser window when a name caught her attention. She clicked on the link and then read the screen twice to make sure she truly understood. “Well, that explains why he could never remember to answer when someone called his name.”

“What do you mean?”

“Liam Preston is none other than L.P. Wallis,” Julie said.

Hannah stared at her blankly. “And this is supposed to mean something to me?”

“L.P. Wallis? One of the hottest mystery writers around.”

The statement had no more than passed through Julie’s lips when a scream rang out.

I
n an instant, Julie and Hannah were both on their feet. They raced out of the office as the scream sounded again.

“It sounded like it came from upstairs,” Hannah said.

Despite her very high heels, Julie took the stairs two at a time, leaving the shorter Hannah to scramble behind.

“It’s in there!” Susan screeched at Julie. She stood outside the shared bathroom on the second floor with one hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide and fearful. She pointed toward the open door. “Get it!”

Kenneth hovered in the doorway of their room, rubbing his eyes as if he’d just awoken.

“Get what?” Julie asked, inching toward the bathroom door. She wasn’t too keen on going inside until she knew what she was up against.

“The snake!”

Julie shot Hannah a look.

Hannah quickly wrapped one arm around Susan’s waist and led her away from the bathroom door before she could scream again.

Joyce poked her head out of the room she shared with Sadie and asked, “What happened?”

Julie managed a smile. “Nothing. Just a small issue in the bathroom.” That had to be the lamest excuse she’d ever offered.

“Oh,” Joyce said, looking more than a little relieved. “My Alvin used to be a plumber. You want me to take a look?”

“Thank you for offering, but I think I’ll let the experts handle this.”

“Handle what?” Sadie pushed past her friend and joined the growing fray in the hallway.

“Just a little issue.” Julie cautiously peered inside the bathroom.
Please let it be a rubber snake. Please let it be a rubber snake. Please let it be a rubber snake.

No such luck. Coiled up inside the bathtub was a thick black snake, its eyes an evil yellow. They seemed to glow in the flat, dark face that stared up at Julie, its tongue flickering and tasting the air around it.

Her heart flip-flopped in her chest. She wasn’t
scared
of snakes, but she surely didn’t want to mess with them if she didn’t have to.

“Is there really a snake in there?” Kenneth had finally managed to wake up enough to comprehend what was happening. He stood behind Julie and peered over her shoulder.

“There is indeed a snake,” she grimly replied.

“A snake?” Joyce repeated, creeping up behind them. “A venomous one?”

Julie shrugged. She didn’t know a great deal about snakes, and she didn’t really want to find out.

“Kenneth,” she said, unwilling to take her eyes off the snake for more than a couple of seconds, “will you please go downstairs and get the phone off the reception desk? I think we need to call a critter guy.”

Kenneth scratched his head. “Critter guy?” He still sounded a little groggy.

“Wildlife removal service,” she explained.

“Oh.” He looked over his shoulder toward his suite.

“If you’d rather see to your wife, that’s fine. Just send Hannah.”

Kenneth nodded and left the room as Julie continued to face down the snake. Thankfully, the serpent didn’t appear
too active or ready to strike. Julie supposed that it was probably cool and comfortable on the porcelain.

Hannah appeared in the hallway and caught Julie’s eye. “I’m on it,” she said before disappearing down the stairs.

Neither Julie nor the snake moved as they waited for the critter guy to arrive. After what seemed like an eternity—but was probably less than ten minutes—Julie heard pounding footsteps on the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Gregory demanded.

Just the person she didn’t need.

“There’s a snake in the bathtub,” Liam said.

Julie wondered when
he’d
joined the party.

“We don’t know what kind,” Joyce chimed in. “It could be deadly.”