Holly and Homicide (3 page)

“Our pipes are copper, not lead!” Henry shouted.

“Must be the solder in all the joints,” she said with a shrug. “Or else maybe they’re copper-coated lead pipes.”

“Oh, come off it!” Henry shouted. “You’re making this stuff up, and we both know it! Now, what’s it going to take to get you to give the water here a passing grade?”

“Are you offering me a bribe, Mr. Goodwin?”

“No, I’m just—”

“Good, because that would be a federal crime, and
you’re in enough trouble already. What with your lead contaminants and your faulty front steps.”

“Front steps?”

She gave him a sly grin. “I must have forgotten to tell you. They’re too steep for a business …and particularly for a business that’s going to have geriatrics and little children going up and down them all the time.”

“Toddlers and geriatric guests can use the back door and our handicap access.”

“Or you can follow the law, and rebuild to meet the city codes, so they can use your
front
steps.”

“Angie!” Mikara cried. “Quit busting Henry’s chops!”

She glowered at Mikara. “Hey, sis. You know, it’s like what you said to me when you left the house this morning: ‘I’m just trying to do my job.’” She used a lilting voice and flitted her eyes derisively, mocking her sister.

“You’re being a brat, Angela!”

“And you’re being a weasel!” Angie shot her sister a furious glare, then she softened her expression slightly and said to Henry, “The bottom line is there are unacceptable levels of lead in the water supply. Fix it, or else you’re not going to be able to convert this place into a bed-and-breakfast.”

“But we’re opening on Christmas Eve! In three weeks!”

“Then you’d better
get the lead out
, hadn’t you,” she said. “Plus, have the entire concrete stoop demolished and rebuilt to code.” She tore off a pink copy from her clipboard and handed it to him. “Here’s your official notice. Pity your violations will probably delay your opening. But take heart,
Mayor Goodwin
. There’s always
next
Christmas.”

She strode toward the front door, glanced back over her shoulder, and said with a haughty smile, “Good seeing you, Henry.”

“Be real careful on the steps,” he snarled. “We wouldn’t want you to fall and crack your head open.”

T
hat went well,” I said with a sigh.

“Yeah, it sure did,” Henry said. “It’s really touching to see how strong that sisterly bond is between you two, Mikki.”

Mikara wore a pained expression as she stared at Henry, but she held her tongue.

“Angie’s concerns are easy enough to resolve, Henry,” Sullivan said. “It should take less than a week to remake the front steps and to fix the troubles with your water. We’ll put in a rush order for a commercial-grade water
filter. Then we’ll hire a plumber, and with any luck at all, we can have Angie back out here for the retest in ten days.”

Henry widened his eyes. “You’re saying we can just filter out the lead from the water?”

“Yeah,” Sullivan replied. “It’ll cost a couple grand, but replacing all the pipes would be much more expensive.”

Henry released a sigh of relief. “Great! Then we’re still in business! Interesting that Angie didn’t mention a simple water filter. No doubt she’ll just drum up some more picayune nonsense in the code books to throw at us. But, at least for the time being, we’re a step ahead of her.”

“You can’t expect my sister or anyone else to greet your inn with open arms, Henry,” Mikara exclaimed. “We elected you as our mayor! Next thing we know, you’re partnering up with Wendell Barton himself. It feels like you turned your back on Snowcap Village.”

He looked stunned. “I did no such thing. I worked my ass off, trying to watch out for the future development of this town, and I turned down a small fortune by declining Wendell’s bid for full ownership.” He regarded her coolly and shook his head. “I’m surprised you agreed to come work for me in the first place, considering how you feel.”

“I needed the money. Plus, I love this house. You know that. I love its history and what it means to this town.
Somebody
needs to treat this property with the respect it deserves. Eventually, the townies will embrace the Snowcap Inn and will proudly show it off to visitors. But for now, Henry, you should try looking at things from their perspective. Act like our forty-two-year-old mayor, not like
a twenty-year-old kid who’s dying to skip town and get back to nature.”

Henry jabbed his index finger at her. “I’m your boss, Mikara! If you can’t accept that and treat me with respect for the one lousy year, you should leave now!”

Not backing down, she took another step toward him. “Oh, for God’s sake, Henry! Of course I respect you! But I’m here to get this place running smoothly, so I’m not about to sit back and watch you actively make enemies!” She pointed at the door to the main hall. “You need to get out there and shake some hands, brush some elbows, just like you did last year to win the election. Convince the townies you’re not bailing on them. Remind everyone this house is converting to a B-and-B, not a BaseMart department store! Treat my
sister
with some respect!”

“Fine. I’m not going to argue with you.” Henry stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll play the friendly politician again, for the sake of harmony.”

“Good! Now everyone please excuse me and let me complete my inventory.” She pivoted and marched back over to the drawer where she’d been counting serving spoons when we first met.

Steve, Henry, and I took the not-so-subtle hint and left the room in favor of the spacious lobby. Henry began to pace on the slate floor in front of the enormous moss-rock fireplace. Sullivan and I exchanged glances; his thoughts were no doubt similar to mine. Lovely as this town and this house were, we’d stepped into a hornet’s nest—one with a formidable queen bee. I hoped Henry actually
was
weighing her excellent advice, and not just capitulating quickly as an aftereffect of their past history.

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Henry said quietly. “I honestly thought Mikki would be the one lifelong Snowcap resident nobody would dare harangue.”

“And you assumed you’d sail through Angie’s final inspections with Mikara working here,” I muttered.

“Yeah, of course I did,” he snapped, pacing with increased fervor. “In theory, it seemed like the perfect move. But if anything, we’re getting
more
guff from her sister, now that Mikara’s officially manager. Looks like I’m going to have to outwit Wendell at his own game.”

“What
game? What does one-upping Wendell Barton have to do with appeasing the building inspector?”

Still marching back and forth across the hearth like an overwound toy soldier, Henry didn’t answer. He popped a Tic Tac in his mouth. He’d once explained that he suffered from anxiety attacks but hated to take medication, so he’d managed to convince himself that breath mints were beta-blockers. “We have to show this town that Audrey Munroe and Chiffon Walters are the real owners of the Snowcap Inn.”

“The thing is,” Sullivan interjected, “they each own a smaller percentage of the inn than Wendell does.”

“Just by a few percentage points,” Henry grumbled.

Sullivan was clearly worried, which meant we were picking up on the same signals; Henry was now acting like a client on the verge of making an ill-timed decision. His bearing was eerily reminiscent of a homeowner we’d worked for just six months ago who suddenly insisted upon moving her recently completed marble fireplace to a different wall.

“Come on, Henry,” Sullivan said. “Let’s go chop down that tree we picked out.”

Henry frowned. “In a minute.” He squared his shoulders. “I’m going to have to take some action here. Especially since it looks like Audrey and Wendell are in bed together, or might be soon.”

“In all honesty, Henry,” I began, “Audrey’s one of my favorite people, and she’s not—”

He held up a hand. “Poor choice of wording. The point is, though, Chiffon and Audrey need to be kept happy and brought forward … front and center in everyone’s mind. We need to publicly reveal that both women have a big role in this inn. You know what I’m saying? Plus, they both need to feel valued and needed. Otherwise, the minute my back is turned, they’re going to let Wendell buy them out.”

I shook my head. “Audrey’s already wealthy, and she truly loves this house. In some ways, it’s a larger version of her own house in Crestview. She just wants to have a hand in running a successful B-and-B in the mountains, I promise you. She isn’t in it for the money.”

“She
will
be, though, when Barton puts visions of dollar signs dancing in her head. But even if you’re right about Audrey, Mikara made an excellent point earlier. We can’t trust
Chiffon
not to let Barton pay her off. So I’m giving her a big, splashy ego boost by showing her off to this town. I’m calling Chiffon up, and I’m putting
her
in charge of the Christmas display outside. She already expressed interest in doing that for us. If you two could please help her with anything she asks, this will all turn out just great.”

Precisely what the woman who wanted us to move her fireplace said. Immediately prior to the sinkhole that developed
. “So …I should hold off on hanging the outside lights?” I asked.

“For now, yeah. Just till we see if they’ll fit in with Chiffon’s ideas. To keep Audrey from feeling left out, I’ll put her in charge of dreaming up a theme for the interior Christmas decorations.”

“Should
Audrey
pick out the tree with me?” Sullivan asked.

Henry was already saying, “Hello, Chiffon?” into his cell phone and didn’t answer. Once again, Steve and I exchanged glances. Steve mimed having a noose tighten around his neck.

A few minutes later, while Sullivan and Henry engaged
in the manly pursuit of chopping down a tree, I took it upon myself to order a top-of-the-line high-volume water filtration system. Even an inspector hell-bent on flunking this place would be unable to criticize our lead-contaminant levels once the filter was installed. The unit would be shipped immediately and would arrive on Friday.

Oddly, the plumbers in town seemed to have time available until I identified
where
the work was to be done, at which point they claimed to be booked solid till after Christmas. I blew up at the third plumber, who’d grumbled about “the Wendell Barton B-and-B,” and I cried, “What is it with you people?! Don’t you all take service calls at Barton’s numerous
condos?”

“Sure we do, lady. Just not at the mayor’s house. He claimed to be one of us in order to get our vote, then the chump sold out to Barton!”

“Suit yourself. You’re only depriving yourself of a nice paycheck. I’ll get a plumber from out of town, or see if Ben Orlin can install it.”

“Better to lose one customer than all of the local business. Or to get all my work flunked by the building inspector from here on out.”

That captured my full attention. “You mean that Angie Woolf is coercing you into refusing to work for Henry?”

There was a pause. “Not exactly,” he said. “I haven’t talked to Angie in weeks. That’s just the buzz around town. But you didn’t hear it from me.” He hung up.

Stunned, I mulled the situation and decided to discuss the townies with Ben Orlin, our contractor, who seemed to be one of the only local residents likely to be frank with me. Three months ago he’d forewarned that we were going to be run through the wringer before we’d be allowed to open our doors. At the time, that notion had seemed silly; who could possibly object to a tasteful B-and-B? Obviously we’d underestimated the widespread hostility toward Wendell.

I dialed Ben’s cell phone and heard it ring nearby. It sounded like he was upstairs. I looked up and called out, “Ben?” from the middle of the hall.

“Yeah. Just a sec, Erin.” He was leaning over the oak railing now, and waved to me. “There’s someone on my phone.”

“No, that’s me, too. I didn’t realize you were nearby.”

“Just fixing the closet door that came off its tracks on the second floor. Be right there.”

A moment later he came down the stairs. Ben was an unassuming man in his early forties. He always wore work boots, baggy jeans, a long-sleeved thermal, and a flannel shirt. He seemed to shave only on Sundays. This being Tuesday, he had a moderate stubble.

“Did Angie Woolf have problems with the gazebo?” he asked.

“No, with our concrete front steps. She says they’re too steep.”

He grimaced. “That’s going to be a pain in the …neck to fix. Did she leave the specs?”

“I think so. She said the whole stoop would need to be demolished and rebuilt.”

He scratched his head through his mop of brown hair. “That means I’ve got to go rent a bulldozer. And hire a demo crew. Might as well get right on it. We’ll have to hope the weather forecast will cooperate for pouring new cement. If so, I might be able to do the job myself.”

“Do you think you could also install a filtration system for the tap water? It’s supposed to arrive on Friday.”

He grimaced, but then replied, “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

“Thank you. That’s a relief. When it comes to construction, you’re really a jack-of-all-trades.”

He shrugged. “You kind of
have
to be in this business. Plus, I built my own house from the ground up. Gave me something to do during the construction slumps.”

“Your skills are sure turning out to be helpful for our sake. Angie seems to have it in for us. The plumbers I spoke with wouldn’t even come out for fear of losing customers
in town and Angie flunking their future inspections.” I paused, but he had no comment. Still hoping to get his perspective, I prompted, “Everyone in town calls this ‘the Wendell Barton B-and-B.’ I hope all the work we’ve given you here is a good thing for you, ultimately. It’s more than clear that the old-time residents of Snowcap don’t appreciate this project.”

“It’s no problem. Folks don’t ever begrudge
my
working on the Goodwin estate. I took over this carpentry business from my father, who headed up many a renovation in this house.” He grinned proudly and gestured at the steps. “He rebuilt this staircase himself, step by step, spindle by spindle.”