Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series) (5 page)

“Darcey Country Inn, this is Martha. How may I help you?”

“Hi, my name’s Ella Reynolds. I’m an author, and I’m working on a book that takes place in your area. I’m interested in coming up and spending a couple weeks. Do you offer reduced rates on extended stays?”

“Well, I’ve never had anyone ask me that, dear.” She paused to consider. “You know what, this time of year we don’t have any guests at all. I’ll rent you a room for $250 a week. How does that sound?”

“Perfect. I’ll be there today if that works for you.”

“Sure does. I look forward to meeting you.”

I thanked her and called Lloyd. He agreed to drive me to Jackson without any finagling and said he’d pick me up within the hour. I ran around the house packing what I thought I’d need. When Lloyd got there I threw my duffle bag in the backseat of the cab and climbed into the front with my laptop bag.

“How are you today, Miss Ella?” Lloyd asked with his gravelly voice. As usual, his white hair was cut short. His ears stuck out from his head like a little kid who got old really fast. His face was creased with the wrinkles of a well-lived life, and his eyes twinkled at me with a joke I never seemed to get. It was good to see him.

“I’m doing well, Lloyd. How are you?”

“Woke up this morning, can’t complain.” His hoarse laughter filled the car. “You going on a trip?”

“I guess you could call it that. I’m going to stay in Jackson for a little while.”

“Ain’t nothing in Jackson.”

“Well, that’s not fair. I’ll be in Jackson.”

“A girl was murdered there not too long back. You be careful. It’s a small town, but there are still bad people.”

I smiled at Lloyd and pulled out my notebook to jot down everything I’d learned to this point to compare to Fagan’s case file. I chatted intermittently with Lloyd as I worked, and the drive went quickly. When he dropped me off at the B & B, I gave him an extra big tip.

“You want me to come back for you?”

“I’m not sure yet. I don’t know how long I’m staying. I’ll call you, unless Gabriel picks me up.” As I said his name, I remembered I hadn’t told Gabriel my new plan yet. I made a mental note to call him once I was settled and had my file. I walked up to the pretty white-stone house. It was two floors with a huge porch wrapped around the front. The landscaping in the yard was evident, even covered with snow. I imagined it was beautiful here in the summer.

A stout, middle-aged woman with graying brown hair cut in a chin-length wedge met me at the door. “You must be Ella,” she said with a huge smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of looking your books up on Amazon. They sound wonderful. I can’t believe you’re writing about our little town. Nothing happens here, not ever. Well, except for Mary Nelson—have you heard about that?”

“That’s actually what I’m here to learn about. Her mother asked me to write about her life. I’d love to interview you and anyone you know who knew her.”

“Oh, why didn’t you tell me that on the phone, dear? You can stay here for free if you’re offering any sort of peace to that poor girl’s mother.”

“Uh…” I was taken aback by her unguarded, friendly demeanor and unsure of how to respond. She waited patiently while I stumbled for an answer. “I couldn’t do that.”

“I insist. Mary went to school with my daughter, Cindy. She was just a tad younger than Cindy and always the nicest little thing.” She looked at me as I switched my duffle bag to my other hand. “Look at me jabbering on. You want to see your room, don’t you? We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

The inside of the house was neat and orderly. The living room had a quaint prairie charm down to what looked like a stuffed raccoon in the corner by the firewood and basket of pinecones. It was rustic in a charming log cabin sort of way. My room was up a narrow staircase on the second floor and overlooked the front of the house. The walls were dark gray, and a stark white quilt covered the canopy bed. There were two chairs and a fireplace with its own little stack of wood. “It’s beautiful,” I told Martha.

“It’s my favorite.” She looked around, pleased. “I made that quilt myself. I never imagined I’d be making quilts and running a bed and breakfast when I went to art school, but such is life.” She laughed and pointed to her right. “The bathroom’s through that door, and breakfast’s at 7:00 a.m. sharp. I’m usually around so just holler, but for the odd time I’m out, here’s my cell phone number.” She handed me a ring with two keys on it. “This is for the front door—I lock up at 10:00 p.m.—and this is the key for your room. Let me know if you need anything at all, dear.”

I put my bag on the bench at the end of the bed and laid my laptop near the headboard. No television, no Gabriel, nothing to distract me from work. I ran a brush through my hair and checked my makeup before I left, locking the room behind me—and double-checking for old time’s sake. I told Martha I had to run to the sheriff’s office and then I’d be back to discuss Mary with her.

Deanna was at the front desk again. She smiled and waved as I walked in, then lifted the phone and called the sheriff. Before I could even sit Fagan opened the door and beckoned me inside. Once again he led me through the bullpen and back to his office.

“Thank you for stopping by again, Ella. Where’s your friend?”

“At work.”

He nodded and handed me a thin file folder.

“This is all you have on a murder investigation? No wonder you didn’t solve it.”

His smile froze and his voice took on an edge that wasn’t entirely friendly. “That’s all I’m willing to share with you—a civilian.”

“Great, gee thanks.” I started to stand, but he motioned me to stay put.

“I could be willing to give you a little more if you were willing to do one or two things for me.”

“Excuse me?” He couldn’t have possibly just asked what I thought he had. I was about to let him have a piece of my mind when he shook his head.

“Nothing lascivious—a book signing at the local bookstore and an appearance or two with me. Mary Nelson’s murder has shaken the community’s faith and it’s an election year. A little good PR would help me tremendously.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re trying to bribe me with evidence in a murder that I’m helping you solve? Wouldn’t you get more votes out of a closed investigation than from a few appearances with me?”

“I know your past. Managing to solve one crime doesn’t make you a detective. You knew everyone involved in that one, and it still took you over a year to find the killer. You don’t know anyone here. I have no delusions that you’ll solve anything. I’m simply asking you to scratch my back if I scratch yours. You’ll have better material for your book, and I’ll have a better public image.”

I rolled my neck from side to side and mentally counted to ten. Could Fagan be any more of a jerk? “What kind of evidence are we talking about?”

He flashed his shark-like smile. “Crime scene photos.”

“Interviews?”

“No.”

“Then no deal.”I tapped my foot impatiently, as he tried to stare me down. After years of practice with Dr. Livingston, my old psychiatrist, I was unflappable.

“Bookstore signing,
four
public appearances of my choice, and I get daily, in person, updates on your investigation.”

“Fine.”

We shook hands on it, and he held my hand longer than I liked. “Partners.”

“Whatever. Give me the rest. I have your job to do.”

“You’ll have to come back tomorrow. I’ll set up the bookstore event.”

I left with my file, ignoring the deputies who stared at me and the sinking feeling I’d regret this deal. Deanna stopped me for the picture I hadn’t taken with her and I obliged. By the time I got out of the office, I wanted to scream, or better yet,
drink
. It was easier with Gabriel here yesterday than it was to do this alone. I shoved the thought aside. I was never a codependent person before, and I wasn’t going to become one now.

I walked around the town, getting a feel for its layout, clutching my file and clearing my head, as the cold wind bit at my exposed skin and made my nose run. I couldn’t let Fagan get to me or he’d have the upper hand.

A large, stone courthouse marked the center of the community with a bell tower, and the several streets surrounding the courthouse had shops and doctors’ offices. Most of the hotel and restaurant chains were pushed to the outlying edges and small neighborhoods kept the distance between the old and the new areas. I got back to the B &B hours later. I was cold and tired, but ready to dive into the investigation. Martha poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Did Sheriff Fagan keep you at the station talking? Pretty girl like you, I bet he did. He’s always had an eye for the ladies.” She put her hands on her hips and waved a wooden spoon at me. “You two would make an adorable couple.”

I laughed as I entered the kitchen. “No. I went for a walk.”

Martha looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my empty ring finger. “He’s single, you know.”

“Imagine that.” I rubbed my arms, trying to warm up.

“You must be frozen to the bone. Have a seat. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

“That’d be great, thank you. I’ll be right back.” I headed upstairs, used the washroom, and then, since I was there anyway, dropped the folder in my room and collected my notebook and pen. When I got back, I took a seat while Martha fluttered around the kitchen. “So you knew Mary Nelson? Did you know her well?”

“As well as most I suppose. She was a sweet girl. A little quiet, but always obliging. She helped me out here sometimes during the summer seasons, especially after my own daughter died. Never late once. Very dependable.”

“I’m so sorry—how did your daughter die?”

“She got in with a bad crowd and overdosed at a party. Mary would never have done such a thing. Had Cindy stayed friends with her, she’d still be alive.” Martha shook her head, traces of wistfulness in her eyes.

I gave her a minute, let her pour us each a mug of steaming cocoa, before gently asking, “Do you know who Mary’s friends were?”

“Well, she always hung around that Nikki Obermiller girl. Never liked her much, but it wasn’t my business. And she dated Bryan Jenkins since they were in junior high. He took her death very hard. Hasn’t been the same since.”

“Death is hard to overcome. Anyone else?”

“She didn’t really talk about her social life while we worked. I suppose Nikki or Bryan would know more about her friendships than I do.” She pushed my untouched mug closer. “Drink up.”

I took a sip. A scorching heat stung my lips and made me jerk back in pain. I lowered the cup and blew on it. “What do you think happened to Mary?”

“I think she stopped to help someone. She was always so nice, too nice maybe.”

I nodded. It was as possible as any other scenario.

“What do you think happened?” she asked me.

I tapped the pen on my notebook. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Martha squeezed my hand, her eyes watery. “You’re doing a fine thing helping Jennifer like this.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You will. I can see it in your eyes. Determination. You’re a good girl, like Mary.”

I took another sip of my hot chocolate despite the burning heat, so I could avoid the uncomfortable gratitude.

“You should go upstairs and rest; then you can have dinner with me tonight. I’d be glad for the company.”

“Oh… Um, okay.” I took my hot chocolate and my notebook back upstairs, unlocked the door to my room, and sat the mug on the coaster on the nightstand. Lying on the bed, I read my notes, but nothing popped out at me. My eyelids grew heavy and I set the notebook to the side, deciding to take a nap before I looked at the case file.  Sleep had nearly carried me away when I heard a whisper.

“Help me.”

I bolted upright, my eyes darting around the room. “Hel-hello? Mary?”

Nothing. I didn’t feel anything in the room. Maybe I was dreaming.

I shook my head.
Not again. I just imagined it. No one said help me.
I went to bathroom, splashed water on my face, and patted it dry.
Too much stress, too soon.
My gray eyes in the mirror were frightened and wide.
I can do this.

I must’ve gotten worked up talking about Mary with Martha. There was no way I’d really heard someone say, “Help me.”

I had no problem believing Mary—or her ghost anyway—was at Jennifer’s house, but she couldn’t be in Martha’s too. At least I didn’t think so. Honestly, though, I didn’t know much about ghosts. I made a mental note to do some research and to see if I could get Grant to talk to me again next time I was home. Grant didn’t frighten me. Strangely enough, I thought of him as a friend. My cell phone rang and I scrambled out of bed, picking it up just before the voicemail. “Hello.”

“Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Gabriel?”
Shit. I forgot to call him.
“I’m in Jackson. I forgot to call you.”

“Is Lloyd on his way? Do you know how late it is? Did you find anything today?”

“I’m staying here for a little while. I can’t have Lloyd drive me back and forth every day while I investigate, so I got a room at a bed and breakfast in the center of town. The lady who runs it is really nice.”