Murder Mansion Page 3

  “You got me there. How long before you expect to open the inn?” His thumb and index finger casually stroked his chin as if realizing his failure to shave this morning. It was hard to say if his stubble itched or if he tried to hide the beginning of a beard.

  “Good question. The original home inspector told me there were some roofing issues and dry rot. New windows and a heating system would be necessary. The interior needs paint, wallpapering and refinishing the wood floors. Exterior needs a new porch, paint and a re-bricked chimney. I spent my small inheritance buying the place. That’s why I asked my brother to look it over.”

  She removed her hat without thinking about it and shot both hands through her chin-length blond bob. “I was planning on six to eight months. Anything I’m doing will be done in the evenings and on my days off. It might take more time.”

  “That long, huh? No problems then.” He shrugged his shoulders, his left hand rested on the car door handle.

  It looked like the man would bail on her without answering when she could go in the house. “Wait. Why does the time matter?”

  His fingers stilled on the handle. “Things happen every day. New scandals, murders, this will be old within a month. No one will remember, except your neighbors, who’ll be more concerned about property value. Keep the place up and they’ll forget also.”

  “Hmft.” It sounded so easy when he said it. Spruce up the front yard with azalea bushes and tubs of colorful blooms and her neighbors would forgive her for anything as long as resale prices stayed high. “You’re right. So when do I get back in the house?”

  He expelled a long sigh. “You’re a regular terrier once you get your teeth into something. It’s not going to be today.”

  Not today? Her mouth fell open with his declaration. That would set the timetable back. A wasted day. Still, the image of the stranger stretched across the floorboards in need of varnishing would not leave her mind soon. “Okay.” She managed a breathy reply, stunned by the sudden barrier between her and her dream. Not forever, she mentally reminded herself, just a detour. That’s all.

  “You look like someone killed your best friend.” His brows lowered as his eyes rolled up. “Forget I said that. I meant someone stole your favorite toy.”

  Donna managed a slight smile for him. Sticking her foot in her mouth was something she did at least monthly. Usually, it was due to her intolerance of tiptoeing around a person’s ego. No time for playing nice when you were dealing with human lives. A fellow nurse described her abrupt manner as masculine. She recognized the insult, but decided to accept it as praise since it implied she never apologized for speaking the truth.

  “I know what you meant.”

  He rolled up on his left hip to pluck his wallet from his back pocket. The stress lines across the worn leather suggested the wallet might be as old as its owner. Taber dug out a dog-eared business card.

  “It’s a little worse for wear. I’ve being meaning to get new ones, but these will do until I run out.”

  She reached for the card, but Taber pulled it slightly out of reach. “I want to put my cell number on it. It only has my desk number and I’m seldom at my desk.” He rested the card against the dusty dashboard before grabbing a pen to write.

  “Feel free to call me tomorrow to see when you can return to work on your B and B. I’ll need the keys, of course.” He pocketed the pen and held out the card to her.

  Needed her keys. She didn’t like the sound of that. Everyone and his brother would be tromping through her house, not that she had anything to steal. “My keys are still inside with my purse, recorder and coffee.”

  “The recorder,” he said the words more to himself than to her. “That could be helpful. Maybe some of those sounds might be on it.”

  Who knows what was on the recorder? All her rambling comments with a side commentary on how she hated rodents. It wasn’t exactly something she wanted to share, but in the end, she probably didn’t have a choice. If it helped find a killer, that’s all that mattered. “Yeah. Okay.” She agreed with a slight sigh that somehow didn’t convey her frustration over a dream circling the drain before being sucked down.

  A flash blinded her momentarily. Her vision cleared enough for her to view a camera-wielding teenager with some card clipped to his puffy vest. An officer scurried up to him but not before, he aimed the camera at her inn for a shot. The open car door allowed her to hear the exchange.

  The uniformed officer pointed away from the scene as he spoke. “Sir, you need to leave. This is a police matter.”

  “I know that.” He snarled, not even trying to soften his disdain, echoing the same arrogance some new doctors displayed, proving that the attitude must be inherent as opposed to developed. The kid with the camera had it in spades. “That’s why I’m here.” His thumb motioned back to the white card on his vest. “I’m press. Here to cover the story.”

  Seriously? The kid who should be worried about arrest for trespassing on her property? Instead, he had the stupidity to argue with a police officer. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes, trying to focus on the miniscule writing on the white card. Blurry. Still, it might be nothing more than something he copied and pasted from an Internet search.

  The officer managed to stay calm while insisting the teen leave. Instead, the boy crossed his arms while angling his head back toward the car. “Is that old woman the murderer?”

  Old woman! She had just turned fifty. Most of her fellow nurses insisted she looked great for her age. A few credited the absence of a husband and kids for this. Unwilling to confess to her nightly ritual of facial-tightening exercises, she usually agreed with their initial conclusion. Her lips firmed as she regarded her nemesis. Obviously, the officer didn’t know how to deal with his ilk.

  She scooted across the seat, ignored Taber’s inquiry about where she was going and stood. For a second, she stared at the offensive creature, locking onto him as if she were a heat-seeking missile. In some ways, she was. Her muscles tensed for action as she marched toward the two males engaged in a battle of wills.

  “You there!” Her index finger stabbed in the direction of Clueless and Offensive. “You are on my property. Get off.” Her menacing tone often sent lab technicians scurrying for cover. The officer straightened a little, recognizing the ring of authority.

  The boy-child sent her a dubious glance and then shrugged his shoulders. “Haven’t you heard of freedom of the press, lady?”

  Was he really going to play that card? Murdered man in her house, neighbors gossiping on the lawn, barred from the house she’d just purchased with every penny of her inheritance and now this. Anger raced through her body with liberal amounts of endorphins in the mix. A right hook would bloody the curled lip, but all the police milling about would get her jailed for assault. They might actually consider her unstable enough to be a suspect.

  “Yeah, I’ve also heard of little boys who print off fake press passes doing two to five years in prison for fraud.” She gave him a long, considering look from the top of his stylish haircut to the bottom of his expensive athletic shoes. “Lots of guys would appreciate some sweet, young thing like you to brighten up their dull days. I imagine they’d be standing in line.”

  Donna watched as his eyes enlarged and wondered how much she’d have to elaborate before she rattled him. His one hand felt for his vest pocket, pulling out a phone.

  “Got a call I have to take.” His long legs carried him across the street and into a nearby Victorian. The Federal Salt Box brick style home that squatted next to it stood out like a bleeding wound among the more elaborate Victorian mansions. No problem remembering that home or its occupants.

  “Two to five years for fraud?”

  The question rattled her and she turned to find Taber standing with the officer, hands in pants pockets. He gave her a knowing smile. The officer nodded and pivoted, showing former military experience in the one simple move. Either that or he was a member of a marching band.

  “Okay. I made it u
p figuring from his ‘I’m King of the World’ attitude that intelligence wasn’t his strong point.”

  “Hmmm.” His murmur served as an answer. “I could do with a real bulldog like you on my team. I bet I’d get a lot more answers from dodgy witnesses.”

  Bulldog now, was that any better than old woman? The men who inhabited her piece of the world today were full of compliments. Normally, the bulldog statement would please her. Donna wanted people to view her as determined, confident, competent and unwilling to take attitude off anyone, sounding somewhat like a bulldog.

  “Plain as day the kid was lying. I’m not sure why the officer didn’t call him on it.” Her grumbling covered the goulash of emotions crowding into her body. Did every emotion she owned decide to make its presence known in the space of a few hours? “All air and attitude. I know the type.”

  “Haynes, the officer, has to be very careful, especially in this neighborhood. Every other home is owned by a lawyer and the rest are owned by people who know lawyers and aren’t afraid to use them. The woman three houses down from you called the police because she could hear the neighbor boy bouncing a basketball in his backyard court. Even sued because of it.”

  A chill passed over her body that had nothing to do with the frosty temps. The auction ad never mentioned anything about litigious neighbors, only that the zoning would accommodate a bed and breakfast. What if that wasn’t even true?

  “Did she win?” She forced the words out, afraid of the answer.

  “Of course not, the judge threw it out as a waste of time. Frivolous lawsuit. However, it hasn’t stopped the woman from calling the police on her neighbors or filing lawsuits. She has time and money to do both.” The detective grinned, most likely finding the whole topic amusing somehow.

  “What type of lawsuits?” Better to know and be prepared.

  “All stupid stuff. Parking mainly. She’s always out front measuring if her neighbors’ cars or guest cars park too close to her area. Even had one towed away.”

  Visions of her guests parking in the wrong place and having their expensive vehicles manhandled while they searched for the inn terrified her. Originally, she thought a large sign would mess with the ambience of the neighborhood. Neon suddenly had merit. “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “Yes, it’s a public street and there’s no signage designating towing as a possibility. In the end, she not only had to pay the tow driver, but the legal fees of the case against her. No parking complaints have resulted lately. She did recently accuse one of her neighbor’s male dogs of getting into her yard and becoming friendly with her prized spaniel.”

  He moved his eyebrows up and down in a comical fashion, making her laugh and she forgot about her initial fears for a second.

  If the man wasn’t a smoker and didn’t consider her a bulldog, he might have potential. Unfortunately, he served only as a reminder of the dead stranger murdered in her topmost parlor.

  Chapter Three

  Donna stood beside the detective’s car staring at the personnel milling around The Painted Lady Inn. Initially, she thought the name provocative since it could have several meanings. The exterior would sport varying hues of lavender, pink and blue similar to the homes she saw when she visited Savannah.

  An errant cold breeze tugged at the ends of her hair, blowing a lock across her face. The dropping temperature and gathering clouds heralded a weather change. Perfect, exactly what she needed to make her day complete. The way her luck was running, it would be a blizzard. Curious neighbors drifted back indoors due to a combination of falling temperature and no immediate scenes of blood and mayhem. Only a few gawkers remained. The non-athletic ball-throwing father herded his progeny into the house. Pajama pants worked for a casual look-see but didn’t make the long haul. An overly made-up blonde attired in a tight sweater, jeans and stiletto heel boots kept Daniel from making his way to Donna’s side.

  Her brother didn’t seem to be trying too hard to get away. His natural charm insisted he speak to everyone who talked to him, which made it difficult to go anywhere with him. The majority of the people eager to exchange a word were women. His wife, when she accompanied her husband, could stop female traffic with a single icy look. Maria’s initial meeting happened because of an inane question she’d posed. Surprisingly, she questioned other women’s motives when they did the same. It was tough to keep the women away when her brother seldom wore his wedding band due to his job in construction. More than a few men lost a finger and even their life when a ring caught while using power tools. Maria accepted his explanation but didn’t like it. Donna suspected the truth had more to do with he liked attention, always had.

  Taber promised to retrieve her purse and coffee. So far, nothing indicated a search. A couple of police officers jogged from the impromptu gab session huddled on her front lawn and headed for cruisers. The whine of the siren indicated the possibility of a crime somewhere else. Yep, the party was over. A lone person attired in a parka with a trailing crocheted black muffler shuffled along the sidewalk with the help of a cane. Someone could possibly be out for an early morning walk. People did that even when a murder didn’t happen in the immediate vicinity. Whoever it was dressed more appropriately than the woman talking to Daniel. She kept dancing on one foot and then the other until her brother predictably offered his jacket. A sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head. Yeah, her brother meant well, but sometimes he just didn’t get it.

  Like a good sister and even better sister-in-law, she’d have to intervene before the woman invited him in for coffee and a pastry on the side.

  “Looks like Delilah has located another good-looking sap.”

  Her indignation over an insulting summation of her brother’s behavior, even though she’d mentally already done the same, heated her blood. She threw the newcomer a dismissive glance. The man marched right up to her, without bothering to pretend he wasn’t on an information-gathering mission. She had to admire such forthright behavior.

  “That’s my brother you’re talking about.” Her declaration didn’t have the desired effect on the man. No excuses, apologies, or general bluster. Instead, it had no effect. He kept talking.

  “Best save him now before she pulls him into the house and throws him out a few days later, just a shell of a man after she’s done with him.” His rusty laugh sounded more like a cough than amusement. Only his twinkling eyes announced he found some humor in his statement.

  His words created an image of a pale Daniel with sunken eyes and beard stubble staggering out of one of the surrounding houses. His shirt would be misbuttoned and untucked. An angry Maria would be at the end of the walk casting daggers with her eyes not at Daniel, or the floozy that lured him into her home, but at Donna. As the oldest, the responsible one, her parents informed her early on that it was her job to look out for her younger brother.

  “No worries, he’s married.” She hoped her words would reassure her as much as the man.

  His eyebrows lifted high, disappearing behind a thick wedge of white hair peeking out beneath the rim of his fur-lined parka hood. “She’s lured more than one married man inside her house. I’m not even sure she’s above using a stun gun to immobilize them when her surface attractions don’t do the trick.”

  Would the man ever shut his yap? His constant commentary annoyed her, especially when she wondered if there might be a grain of truth in any of it. The idea of her brother wandering wasn’t one she wanted to examine. It took forever for him to marry after having a buffet of potential mates thrust upon him. Her mother gave up on Donna early, but with Daniel, she had hopes for grandchildren.

  She just wanted the man to leave her alone, but then an idea occurred. The man knew the neighborhood and its occupants and had time to spy on them. If he could detail the goings-on, he might be able to give her some history of the house and even better, the dead man.

  She thrust out her right hand in the man’s direction. “Donna Tollhouse, your new neighbor.” He took her hand in his glove-clad one an
d gave it a surprisingly firm shake.

  “Herman Fremont. I see you overcame your desire to throw me off your property. Was it my sparkling repartee that did it?” His eyes danced above his drooping mustache.

  “Ah, thought it would be good to get to know my neighbors.”

  His snort and crossed arms demonstrated his disbelief. “Okay, Donna. You strike me as a woman of sense and determination, which should make you stick out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. Nothing but frivolous females more concerned about looking good than contributing anything while on the right side of the ground. Oh and there is one bitter, old biddy who’ll sue the pants off anyone who crosses her.”

  “So I heard.” She recognized Taber’s voice as he talked to the few remaining officers standing nearby. He’d be here any minute, ending her conversation with Herman and any chance of getting needed information. “I’d like to know more about the neighborhood and its history.”

  “Uh-huh.” He cut her a sly glance before continuing, gesturing to his head. “You saw all the snow on the roof and decided this old geezer probably knows a thing or two.”

  Donna stretched her lips into what she hoped was a smile. Normally, she didn’t do it all that much. The fact that it felt strange and awkward meant it resembled the desired expression. “Oh no, I noticed you were a keen student of human behavior.”

  “Knock off that fake smile. Looks more like you’re constipated and trying to pretend you aren’t.” He thumbed in the direction behind him. “Live over that way.” A perfect location if he had any need to spy on her house.

  Her smile faded. Did he think she acted as if she found him attractive? No, never. She just wanted to stroll through his collective memories.

  “Better. I like an honest female. None of this fluttering eyelashes or phony expressions. What is it you want to know?” He shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, shuffled his feet and hunched his shoulders.

  Taber would arrive in seconds. So much, she wanted to ask, but one question would have to do. “Do you know who owned the house?”