The Inn at Holiday Bay: Boxes in the Basement Read online

  I love you,

  Abby

  Chapter 8

  I woke to snow falling outside my window the following morning. I could hear Georgia moving around in the other room and considered getting up, but it was so snuggly here in my big new bed, cuddled up with Rufus, enjoying a few minutes of quiet. After I’d invited Georgia in the previous afternoon, I’d learned she’d married her college sweetheart after graduation and been blissfully happy for seven wonderful years, until her husband, a financial planner, was accused of swindling money from his customers. In the blink of an eye, she went from being happily married with her own home and business, to flat broke, homeless, and single after her husband committed suicide rather than go to prison.

  I shared with her my own loss, and somewhere along the way, as the day turned to night and the clock passed the midnight hour, the two of us bonded. The longer Georgia and I talked, the more certain I was that she was exactly the sort of person I’d need to run the inn. The business she’d had before the bankruptcy that had followed her husband’s conviction was a catering company, and while I’d yet to taste her food, I was confident she could cook. The fact that she’d run a successful business for five years told me she must be good with people and money, although I should check her references. She assured me she was willing to clean rooms and do the laundry in addition to the cooking, especially if there were just four rooms. We discussed having someone come in a couple of times a week to handle the larger chores.

  I was fine with her staying with me in the cottage until the manager’s suite was done, and with her having Ramos at the inn as long as he was well behaved and good with the guests. I supposed it was early to get too excited, but suddenly the world looked bright and hopeful.

  “Wow, you’ve been busy,” I said when I finally did get up and wander into the guesthouse’s common area. The fire was dancing merrily and there was something wonderful smelling in the oven.

  “I got up early to do something special to thank you for everything.” Georgia handed me a mug filled with hot coffee. “Have a seat at the counter and I’ll grab your breakfast.”

  “You made breakfast?” I slid onto a barstool and took a long, slow sip. I felt my body warm up just a bit as the hot liquid made its way down my throat and into my stomach.

  Georgia pulled an egg dish from the oven. “I ran into town to get a few supplies. There’s a breakfast casserole and a fresh fruit salad.”

  Be still my heart. That sounded amazing. And I was starving after mostly subsisting on sandwiches. “That sounds wonderful, but you didn’t have to do all that.”

  “I wanted to,” Georgia said as she began filling plates. “Cooking relaxes me, and it’s been a while since I’ve stayed anywhere with a kitchen.”

  She set a plate in front of me, and I took a bite and chewed slowly. “Delicious.”

  Georgia smiled. “I’m glad you like it. The kitchen is adequate and the view is amazing, but we need to get some pans and dishes. Unless you have some.”

  “I haven’t had my things from San Francisco sent yet, so stocking the kitchen is on my list of things to do. I need to go into town to get the paint for the bathroom cabinets, and if you want to come along, we can drive to the home store in the next town to pick out some pans and other things.”

  Georgia hesitated. “I don’t have much cash to pitch in.”

  I took another bite of the quiche. “Not a problem. For food like this, I’d be willing to pay for solid-gold baking pans.”

  Georgia grinned and took a bite of her own food. “Gold isn’t practical or necessary. I’m sure we can get what we need for a reasonable price. I’ll take Ramos out for a walk along the bluff after I eat, but after that I’m all yours.”

  “I’m going to jot down some notes for my new book and then head into the shower. Why don’t we plan to go into town at around eleven?”

  “Perfect.”

  ******

  We literally filled the back of my SUV with kitchen supplies, bedding, and towels and rugs for the bathroom, and then we went to the diner for a much-deserved meal. If Georgia was going to stay with me a while, she’d need a bed, but she’d slept on my air mattress the night before and had made it clear she was satisfied with that for the time being. Eventually, when the manager’s suite was ready, I’d buy furniture for that space, the same as I would for the rest of the inn. The cottage had come mostly unfurnished when I bought it, other than the set of four barstools, an old sofa, and a few odds and ends in the kitchen. Georgia and I talked about making a trip back to the furniture store to look for a dining table and some additional furniture for the main living area. Maybe while we were there I’d buy a bed as well.

  “Afternoon, Velma,” I said as Georgia and I walked in from the road.

  She looked up and smiled. “Sure is good to see the two of you together. I thought you might get along.”

  “I’m very grateful for the heads-up about the potential job.” Georgia hugged the waitress, who was almost twice her height.

  Velma glanced over Georgia’s head and looked at me. “Figured you’d need some help with that big old house. Rufus with you?”

  “He’s at home with Ramos,” I answered, sliding into a booth.

  “Those two getting along okay?” Velma asked as she poured coffee into two mugs and set them on the table.

  “Seem to be.”

  “Rufus is definitely the alpha of the two.” Georgia chuckled as she slid into the booth across from me. “But Ramos doesn’t mind. In fact, I think he enjoys getting bossed around a bit.”

  “Glad to hear that. Now, what can I get for you girls?”

  I ordered a club sandwich, Georgia a cup of clam chowder. While we waited for our meals, we chatted about what we still needed to accomplish that afternoon. There wasn’t room left in the cargo area of my SUV for much more, but I wanted to get the paint for the bathroom cabinets and figured I could fit it on the floor behind the seats. Then the only other stop to make was to the market to pick up a few staples for the kitchen.

  Georgia chatted happily about a recipe she wanted to try while I sipped my coffee and let the festive scene outside the window warm my heart and soften the edges of my mending but still fragile soul. In many ways, I couldn’t believe that after a year of struggle I’d finally found the solace I’d needed to make my life whole in this little town featuring streets with holiday names. Before the accident, I’d never considered living in a small town. I’d thrived on the hustle and bustle of the big city and could only imagine how boring a slower pace would be. Sure, I missed the stimulation of big-city life from time to time now, but after everything that had happened, a conversation about using ginger spice in place of cinnamon left me feeling just right.

  “So, have you heard anything more about Darcy’s murder?” I asked Velma after Georgia finished what she had to say and picked up her own coffee. The murdered girl had been in the back of my mind constantly since I’d heard of her death, and thinking about San Francisco had made me think about Ben, which made me think about murder investigations. Velma seemed to know a lot of people, which meant she’d be up on all the local news and gossip.

  “The police have been interviewing some of her friends. Some of the customers at the bar on Saturday too. Everyone agrees she left alone, but no one seems to know where she went.”

  “I heard the police were talking to Darcy’s boyfriend and her best friend,” I said.

  “They spoke to Carly, the best friend, but as of the last time I spoke to Colt, he hadn’t been able to locate Adam.”

  “Do they think something happened to him as well?” I asked.

  Velma shrugged. “There’s a lot of speculation, but no one knows for sure. He shared a small house in town with a roommate who told Colt he hadn’t seen Adam since Saturday afternoon.”

  “So he could be a second victim,” Georgia said, her tone breathy.

  “Could be,” Velma answered. “But so far, his body hasn’t turned up. There are some folk
s who are starting to say he might be the one who killed Darcy.”

  I raised a brow. “You don’t say. Why do folks suspect that?”

  “It seems they were having problems and had actually broken up the weekend before the murder. Or at least that’s the rumor.”

  “If it’s true they broke up, maybe they weren’t ever together on Saturday night,” I pointed out.

  “Maybe not. Although if Adam isn’t wrapped up in Darcy’s disappearance in some way, where did he go off to?”

  Good question.

  “I know Colt talked to Wayne Newman,” Velma continued, “the bartender who worked with Darcy the night she died. I don’t think the police suspect him of any wrongdoing, but if Darcy had plans that night that ended up getting her killed, she might have mentioned them to him. They were pretty tight. Wayne was quite a bit older than Darcy—about twenty-five years older—but it seemed she looked at him as a father figure.”

  “She didn’t have an actual father in her life?”

  Velma shook her head. “He’s in prison. Has been since she was a little girl.”

  “Really? What did he do?”

  “Killed a man while committing a robbery. It was such a shame and so very pointless. Some poor guy was working the graveyard shift at a liquor store up the coast, never imagining a drugged-out junkie looking for some cash to get a fix would end his life before the evening was over.”

  “So Darcy’s father was a drug addict?”

  Velma nodded. “A functioning one. He somehow managed to hold down a job, but everyone knew he used drugs on a regular basis, and not just pot. He was in to the hard stuff. I’m not sure how much it affected Darcy. She was only two or maybe three when he went to prison. Still, I guess growing up knowing your father was a killer would be a tough thing to deal with.”

  Yes, I supposed it would. “I stopped by the Reindeer Roundup for a pint yesterday and spoke to the man who was tending bar. He told me he was in the bar throwing darts on the night Darcy died.”

  “Must have been Denver Thomas,” Velma said.

  “Yes, that’s right. Thomas mentioned a group of men in the bar on Saturday night who were headed north. One of them got handsy with Darcy, and when she rebuked him, he gave her a look Thomas interpreted to mean he wasn’t done with her yet.”

  Velma frowned. “I wonder if Denver told that to Colt.”

  I shrugged. “He was pretty rude when I asked him about it, but I suppose he might talk to the chief of police if asked. A man passing through with a bellyful of alcohol and an interest in the victim sounds like a good suspect to me.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Velma agreed.

  “You said Darcy worked in a bar,” Georgia joined in. “Did she have a substance abuse problem too?”

  Velma shook her head. “Darcy didn’t do drugs and she only drank socially, which was, I believe, at the root of the problem she was having with Adam. They’d been together for a while, but Adam was in to amphetamines. Still, if she was meeting him that night, he would have picked her up at the bar. Her leaving on foot doesn’t make a bit of sense. Not only was it late, it was cold. Seems someone would have given her a ride if she didn’t have her own car for some reason.”

  “Maybe she didn’t mean to walk far,” I suggested. “Maybe someone picked her up on the street, or she had plans to meet someone nearby.”

  “Maybe. Whatever her plans, they sure didn’t work out for her.”

  No, they didn’t. I was fairly cautious these days, but I could remember walking home from a bar or club when I was in my early twenties and I lived in a much more potentially dangerous neighborhood than quaint and friendly Holiday Bay.

  Velma looked toward the counter. “Your lunch is up.”

  “Knowing a young woman was killed right here in Holiday Bay makes me doubly glad I’m not still living in my truck,” Georgia said.

  “You do have your big dog for protection,” I said.

  “Ramos looks like he’d make a formidable opponent, but he’s just a big teddy bear. Heck, he’s afraid of your cat.”

  “True. And I agree it’s frightening to think there could be a killer walking around here. When I spoke to Denver Thomas yesterday, he seemed positive the killer was someone passing through. And maybe it was. But I don’t think I’ll feel completely safe until we know for sure.”

  “Yeah. Me neither.”

  Georgia and I dug into our food. We were halfway through when a tall man with dark hair wearing a police uniform came in. He glanced at us, then went to the counter.

  “You’re late,” Velma said.

  “I’m not here to eat.” He handed Velma a photo. “Have you seen this girl?”

  She studied the photo, then shook her head. “I can’t say as I have. Is she involved in Darcy’s murder?”

  “We don’t know. This photo of the two of them was posted to Darcy’s social media account about an hour after she left the bar the night she died.”

  “What do you think that means?”

  “I’m not sure,” he answered. “From the crowd in the background, it looks as if they were at a party when the photo was taken.”

  Velma looked at it again. “I don’t recognize anyone else either. Seems like an older crowd, though.”

  “No one else I’ve spoken to recognizes anyone standing behind them, so I’m thinking this party wasn’t in town, or at least that the guests were visitors.”

  “Denver Thomas told me there was a group of men from out of town in the bar on Saturday night and one of them showed particular interest in Darcy,” I said.

  Velma gestured to Georgia and me. “This is Abby Sullivan, and that’s Georgia Carter.”

  He glanced at me. “Were you in the bar on Saturday night?”

  “No, but I stopped by yesterday. Apparently, the men were all drinking heavily. One in particular showed interest in Darcy. At least according to Denver Thomas.”

  He crossed the room and handed me the photo. “Do you recognize anyone?”

  “The girl in the red jacket.”

  “That’s Darcy Jared. When did you last see her?”

  “I didn’t see her exactly; I saw a photo of her. A bunch of photos of her, in a box with a lot of other things in the basement in my house, although she had blond hair, not brown, in them. Still, I’m sure it’s her.”

  “Darcy bleached her hair for a while a few years ago,” Velma said.

  He frowned. “Yes, she did. What house are you talking about?”

  “The bluff house,” Velma answered in my stead. “Abby bought the place. Lonnie’s going to renovate it, and Georgia here is going to help her turn it into an inn.”

  “Is this box still at your house?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He looked at his watch. “I have an appointment with Darcy’s cousin. Would it be all right if I came out there in about two hours to take a look at what you have?”

  “Fine by me. The box is in the basement of the main house, along with other similar ones, but I’m living in the cottage. Come get me there when you arrive and I’ll show you where it is.”

  “I’ll do that. And thanks.” He took the photo and left.

  “Who was that?” Georgia asked.

  “Colt Wilder. I guess I should have introduced him. He’s the chief of police.”

  “He’s quite the babe,” Georgia said as she continued to look toward the door.

  Velma chuckled. “That he is.”

  Chapter 9

  Chief Colt Wilder arrived at the house just about two hours after we’d run into him at the diner. I called out to Georgia to let her know I was going to meet him, grabbed a jacket, and went out to meet his car.

  “So, you’re going to turn this old place into an inn,” he said conversationally.

  “I’m going to try. Lonnie Parker seems to think we can.”

  “Lonnie’s the best. If he’s working with you, the place will be fantastic.”

  The snow had started up again, so I took a red knit cap out of
my pocket and pulled it onto my head. “Lacy told me the two of you are friends.”

  “We are. I was the best man at his wedding.”

  “He and Lacy seem really great. All the Parkers seem great. I haven’t met the older three boys, but Lacy invited me to Sunday dinner, so I’ll have the chance then.”

  I used my key to unlock the back door, which led into the kitchen. I hadn’t locked the basement door after I’d found the boxes, so I opened it and reached for the light.

  “It looks like someone might have been hiding out in here,” Wilder said, looking at the mattress.

  “You think so? I just figured the mattress had been discarded by the previous owner when he moved.”

  “Perhaps.” Wilder crossed to the boxes.

  “There are four boxes, each containing random items and an envelope with photos,” I said. “The subjects in the photos in each box are different. All female, and all young. I figured the boxes must have been left behind by a previous resident too. The one with the photos of Darcy is to the right.”

  Wilder pulled on gloves and opened the lid of the box I’d indicated. He sorted through the items inside, then pulled out the envelope. “These look like things that would belong to a high school student. The photos are dated as well.” He sifted through the photos. “The boxes are pretty dusty. I assume they’ve been here for a while.” Wilder picked up a photo. “This was taken at the harvest festival when Darcy was in high school, and the one after at a high school football game, also when she was a student.”

  “How can you be sure they were taken then?”

  “Darcy has naturally brown hair, but she bleached it when she was in high school. She has blond hair in all these photos, and she has her cheerleader uniform on in one.” Wilder paused at a photo of the girl standing in the snow. “Did you touch these?”

  “Yes. I didn’t realize who the girl was at the time.”