Murder Mansion Page 16

  The throw cloth, still clutched in her right hand, trailed behind her like a bridal train as she surveyed the ground level rooms. The dining room, while being cabinet free, boasted several full-length windows. Eventually, she’d have to primer it, but something simple first. The long, narrow foyer was free of cabinets and windows, except for two long decorative windows framing the entrance door. She decided to start there.

  Cloth spread, blue tape outlined the windows and door and she was ready to start. A device that looked more like a beer bottle opener allowed her to jimmy open the primer lid. “Okay, Donna, you need to do a good job in here. This is the first area guests will see.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  The masculine voice caused her to freeze in the motion of dipping her brush into the thick white liquid. The hairs on her arms managed an even more erect posture than they already had with the chilly temperature. Ah, she needed to identify her unknown visitor. No one ever called her a coward and there was no reason to now.

  Her grip tightened on the brush as she considered the feasibility of using it as a weapon. Already on her knees, she rocked backed into a crouching position, curling her toes under, ready to run out the front door. A live coward could call the police. An angling of her head revealed the deadbolt on the front door, which explained why all her visitors preferred the back door.

  A metallic rattle pulled her eyes to her visitor, or at least his giant aluminum ladder he left in the foyer as she saw a jean-clad leg disappear into the dining room. “I know what you’re up to.” The familiar voice bounced off the walls of the empty room.

  Her hand went up to smack herself on the forehead at her stupidity, but instead the bristles of the paintbrush poked her in the eye. The brush tumbled from her fingers as she flung it against the wall. Her brother returned to the room as she rubbed her assaulted eye.

  He clicked his tongue. “Don’t think acting inept is going to keep you from painting. You already picked the easiest room and left me with cabinet hell. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

  The adrenaline that had raced through her body only seconds before slowed to a slight dribble. “I jabbed myself in the eye with the paintbrush.” A couple of blinks assured her that her vision hadn’t suffered. Only one brother stood before her with hands on his hips and a mocking smile on his lips.

  “Okay, whatever you say, but you’re the smart one in the family so it is a bit hard to believe you could do something so dumb.”

  Rather than insist she actually did poke herself in the eye with a paintbrush, which would lead to explaining she hadn’t recognized his voice, she said nothing. Weird, she hadn’t known immediately it was Daniel. Too many other things occupied her mind, from her snobby neighbor to murderers who sandpapered off fingerprints.

  Her brother’s greeting had startled her, that’s all. No murderer comments on the intended victim talking to herself. It would give the person too much time to react. Nope, her fear had made her act irrational. Standing, she glared at the paintbrush, pretending it was the cause of her problems. Her legs, slightly stiff from maintaining her crouched position, forced her to march over to the brush like a tin soldier.

  “About time you got here.” She refused to dignify his earlier statement with a response. Her brother got the lion’s share of desirable traits in her opinion and yet he continually pointed out she did better in school. So what if she had maintained honor roll throughout school, except for the dismal C- in gym her first year and flunking driver’s ed in summer school. Graduating college with honors didn’t guarantee her happiness or a devoted spouse for that matter.

  “Nag, nag.” He waggled his eyebrows, knowing the remark would irritate her as it usually did.

  Her pursed lips reflected some disgruntlement, but she refused to give into it. Inn owners had to handle cantankerous guest with velvet gloves. She shrugged and turned her back to him, just as the neighbor had done her. Bending at the waist, she dipped her brush into the primer.

  “Where’s your paint tray?” Her brother’s voice close to her ear almost caused her to drop the brush into the primer.

  “I don’t need it. I’m only doing the trim work before I use the roller.” Her actions should be apparent, but she sucked in her lips to prevent her from saying as much. Good job, you’re mastering self-control. Before you know it, you’ll be a world-class innkeeper.

  A metal paint pan blocked the brush’s descent into the primer. “Here’s your pan. No need to thank me.”

  Donna’s eyebrows drew down as she contemplated the metal pan finally wrapping her hand around the rim, “Why do I need a paint tray?”

  “A remark like that says it all. Less chance of spillage and you can share the can.” He confirmed with a head bob.

  Her irritation showed in her voice. “A remark like yours,” she pointed with her brush in his direction in case he might think she addressed the door or the stairs, “shows monumental arrogance. A regular know-it-all.”

  “Takes one to know one.” He answered with a twinkle in his eye that caused her to chuck the brush at him. It hit him square in the chest as she intended. True, she never scrimmaged well in basketball or climbed the gym rope to the top, but she could throw with accuracy.

  “Ah ha! Got you.” She gloated with glee.

  Daniel picked up the brush and approached her. His grim countenance had her scampering out of the way. His footsteps erupted into running behind her. His arms wrapped around her before she could make an evasive move.

  “Caught you.” He croaked the words into her ear before running the brush over her face. “Eat brush.”

  Her hands pushed the brush away as she laughed and choked out a few words in between breaths. “You win.”

  He released her and handed the brush over with a grin. “We both won, especially since you went back to acting normal. Not sure what that other stuff was.”

  Her lips twisted to one side with the realization that her good innkeeper behavior wasn’t normal according to her brother. “I was the congenial B and B owner and you were my demanding guest.”

  Her brother handed her a rag to remove the paint from her face as his laughter boomed through the foyer, sliding into the empty rooms and echoing. It created the eerie effect of the house laughing at her too. His merriment ended as he placed an open palm against a nearby wall. “Sister, you better hope I’m the crankiest guest you ever get, but I won’t be.”

  “Why is that?” One eyebrow lifted on its own, recognizing his ability to pontificate on almost any subject. She folded her arms, allowing the brush to rest across her bent forearm. “Illuminate me, oh great one.”

  “Glad you used my proper title. Otherwise, I wouldn’t.” He held up his free hand, stopping her initial protest. “I’ve noticed people on vacations or getaways have expectations.”

  “Okay, I get that. That’s why I’m providing excellent accommodations, superb food and sublime service.” She ignored Daniel’s cough when she mentioned service. “What’s not to like?”

  “All those things are good and helpful for people whose expectations are met, but often people want to rekindle the romance, feel important, fall in love and be lifted out of depression. These are things lace-trimmed pillowcases and afternoon tea will not do. They’re dependent on the person, the companion or set of mind. When they aren’t having fun or relaxing, they blame you as opposed to themselves.”

  “How do you know so much about this? Can’t remember you running an inn.” His point was a valid one she had never taken into consideration. In her fantasy, happy smiling people left her inn with promises to return soon with friends.

  “Oh,” he drew out the word as he rolled his eyes upward, “I think some of those unhappy women were ones I made the mistake of traveling to some romantic B and B with. Apparently, a hotel or even a cruise doesn’t rate as high on the relationship scale as a tiny independent inn run by a sweet couple. They expected me to drop three little words on them.”

  “Will you marry me?
” She knew even after she said it. It was four words, not three.

  Daniel shook his head, refusing to comment on her mistake. “I love you.”

  “You never ever loved anyone before Maria?”

  “Nope. Loved my dog. My first motorcycle. My family, but never any woman before Maria.” He uttered the words with total sincerity.

  Her right foot tapped the floor. “No wonder those women were upset. Seriously, you agreed to go off on some romantic getaway they probably planned.”

  Her brother nodded.

  “You knew what they were thinking.”

  “I did not.”

  Her toe-tapping increased. “You had to, especially after the first time.”

  “It was a different woman.”

  “She was still a woman. Trust me; females who’ve planned a romantic getaway with a significant other aren’t that different. They were already miffed you hadn’t planned it. I’m just glad you’re married. Don’t think I could stand your angry girlfriends stomping around the place.”

  His face assumed a wounded expression as he pushed off the wall. Daniel’s hand landed over his heart. “Somehow, you think I’m at fault here for getting their expectations up too high. I never promised them anything.”

  “Men.” She snorted the word as she picked up the paint pan. “Make sure to thank Maria for me. She saved me from all the angry women I could have encountered in my inn.”

  The thick primer dripped into the pan as she tilted the can. Her brother came up behind her. “You’re a woman. What did I do that made those women think I was serious?”

  She placed the weighty paint can on the floor. The thick shielding she put around her heart splintered. Not a noticeable crack, but it was there all the same. Then she remembered a habit her brother had and the crack sealed up as suddenly as it occurred. Her brother couldn’t figure it out. No wonder she was the smart one in the family. Holding the tray against her side, she stood and stared at her brother’s clueless expression. How did he date so long and still be clueless about women?

  “You kept dating them.”

  “They wanted me to keep dating them.”

  “Of course, they did, but it wasn’t fair unless you intended to make a future with them.”

  “Is that why you don’t date? Afraid of leading someone on?”

  Where had that come from? “We’re not talking about me. You were warning me about angry women who might come to my inn and wouldn’t get their expectations met.” Her steps carried her to the front door where she angled her loaded brush between the narrow window and the door.

  Daniel followed her unaware the conversation had ended. “You never answered me.”

  She knew she hadn’t answered him because she didn’t want to. “Have you thought of any possible suspects?”

  Her brother heaved a sigh. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. No, I haven’t thought of anyone. It’s a puzzle. Hard to find a motive for a man no one knows. In most mysteries, everyone hates the victim.”

  “Yes!” She had thought the same thing. “Taber should have a photograph of the dead guy too.”

  “Heard anything?” The fact she hadn’t, made her suspect the detective was holding out on her. “No.” Even she heard the petulance in her voice.

  Daniel smirked. “Yeah, burns you good too. Who do you suspect?”

  There were so many possibilities from neighbors, real estate agents, strangers intent on revenge. “It would be better to say who I don’t suspect. I think Grandmother Crochety is off my list.”

  “Who?”

  Oh yeah, she hadn’t brought her brother up to speed on the various nicknames she’d assigned her new neighbors. “The grump with the tape measure.”

  He nodded. “Got it. Too frail anyhow. Any motives?” He strode toward the doorway ready to exit, but glanced back expecting her reply.

  “I’m working on it. It could have been impulsive, but I think it is more of a lover’s spat.” Saying the words aloud solidified it. Had to be, they could have been meeting in her inn for a while. Cold, hard floors didn’t conjure romantic images, but illicit affairs took advantage of opportunity and secrecy. Hard to be more out of sight than a vacant house.

  “That’s good.” Her brother saluted her then headed to the kitchen.

  She shouted her question. “What’s good about it?”

  Silence hung in the air, followed by footsteps as Daniel strode back into the foyer. “It’s done. Over. Fatal attraction affair ended in its inevitable conclusion. Police might catch the culprit, then again might not. In the end, it has nothing to do with us. No worries.”

  Yeah, no worries. No wonder people loved her brother since he never engaged in overanalyzing situations.

  So far, he hasn’t come up with anything.

  Chapter Twelve

  A wide swath of primer followed the brush as she moved it downward between the window and door. A metallic thump and rattle of a paint can indicated Daniel setting up in the kitchen as she hoped he would. Good. It meant no begging, which was just as well since she sucked at it. Being in charge, seeing the big picture, giving orders came naturally as the older sister. The same skills slimmed down the selection of potential beaus. Probably the reason she had hung onto Thomas, even though she had seen red flags. Couples usually spent time together doing even trivial activities. Thomas spent more time away than with her. He was also a bit more traditional than she liked. Old school because he believed women could have jobs outside the home as long as they kept the house clean, dinner on the table and laundry done.

  Just as well, they never tied the knot, since they’d end up untying it after a few years, maybe even a few months. Still, would her outlook be different if she’d married? Her brush stopped in mid-stroke as she considered the ninety-degree turn her life took on that fateful day years ago.

  Her brother reminded her once that thousands of other people went on to find fulfilling relationships. Did that make her a quitter? Her back went rigid at the word. Might as well call her a coward. She’d never thought of herself as either until now. Her brush dripped into the pan with a hollow plunking sound. Daniel’s voice rattled her self-induced mental reverie as his footsteps came closer.

  “You have the easiest job in the place and you’re still dragging your feet.”

  Her glacial stare did not freeze her brother on the spot. Over the years, he’d built up a resistance. It helped that he knew she wasn’t as tough as she pretended to be. The insult she planned to hurl at him dried up before she ever made it. Instead, a question she hadn’t intended to ask popped out instead. “Did you make up the comment about thousands of people being left at the altar?”

  Donna realized the secret to Daniel’s popularity was more than a toothpaste commercial-worthy smile and good manners. Early on, he could size up people and tell them what they wanted to hear, which usually only contained a kernel of truth. She knew the answer before she even asked.

  The sound of footsteps meant he had come off the ladder to talk to her. Never good when a person felt like they had to be close to talk to someone. In the hospital, she often hovered about a yard from a patient’s family when she relayed that their loved one had taken a turn for the worse.

  “Ah, sis. You know no one has that type of data. It’s easier to get murder stats. Anyone who has been left at the altar seldom talks about it.”

  His voice grew closer with each word, which meant he’d probably put an arm around her shoulders to reassure her, treating her like a five-year-old who fell off her bicycle. Placing one foot behind the other, she pivoted before he could. “No one ever mentions it because it makes them sound like a loser. No one wants to be a loser.”

  Her actions didn’t stop Daniel’s approach. Upon reaching her, he took the paintbrush from her hand and placed it on the tray. A spray of tiny white dots decorated the floor.

  Her brother knelt at her feet, withdrew a bandana from his back pocket and mopped up the primer. “I’d say Thomas was the loser,
not you. I followed the jerk once social media became popular. The idiot even wanted to be my friend. I refused his request because I saw it for what it was.”

  The idea of her brother cyber stalking her old fiancé and using social media to do it astounded her. “I didn’t even know you spent time on the Internet, other than reading construction blogs.”

  Daniel sat back on his heels and shrugged, then flashed her his famous smile. “Didn’t use to, not until Henrietta.”

  “Who?” The women came and went in her brother’s life so often that she needed a spreadsheet to remember them all.

  “The feisty redhead with fantasy issues.” Daniel gave the floor a final swipe before standing up.

  Fantasy issues, not something a sister needed to know about her brother. A brief image of her brother dressed as a pirate and an anonymous redhead as a fairy popped into her head. She shook her head violently, ridding herself of the picture. “Too much information.”

  “Not that kind of fantasy.” He chuckled, before continuing. “I wish you could have seen your face. Anyhow, she was a cousin to someone I went to high school with. Bumped into the man when I picked up a load of shingles. He congratulated me since he’d read on his cousin’s social media that we were in a serious long-term relationship.”

  “Were you?” Odd, she remembered nothing about this female. She should have. It made her an unobservant sister.

  “Not you too.” His punch buffeted her shoulder. “No. I only went on two dates with her. Actually one and a half. I invented a construction emergency to end the second one early. She’d gone all weird telling me the names of our future children. Apparently, she told everyone else via social media. I decided I needed to be aware of how my name showed up in her media feed.”

  “What was your construction emergency?” She tried to imagine her brother’s shocked face as some sweet young thing revealed the names of their children.