Murder at Redwood Cove (20 page)

A
s I straightened out the Jeep after rounding a long curve, Redwood Cove popped into view. White buildings, looking like small squares, dotted a grove of trees. The aquamarine Pacific Ocean crashed against rocky outcroppings on my left, spewing foam and creating swirling mists.

Redwood Cove. My new home.

Excitement pushed away the weariness of long driving hours from Wyoming. My heart beat faster and goose bumps rose on my arms.

“My new home.” I whispered it aloud.

“My new job.” I spoke it aloud.

Tiredness slipped away as my mind raced ahead. I kept my foot steady on the gas pedal, remembering the horse trailer I pulled behind me filled with my belongings. I turned off the song
Walking on Sunshine
playing on the radio, put the window down, and let the salty breath of the ocean pour in.

I visualized the business cards nestled in a leather case in my purse. “Resorts International” in raised letters at the top. “Kelly Jackson, manager, Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast” artfully displayed in the middle. The cards would rest on the engraved brass holder my boss, Michael Corrigan, had sent me as a welcoming gift.

I turned off the highway and saw the steeple of Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast standing out against the sky. As I pulled into the driveway of the B&B, I inhaled deeply, struck by the sheer beauty of the place as well as the intense sweet fragrance permeating the air. The brilliant array of flowers on the trellised vines created a kaleidoscope of color next to the elegant white sculpted pillars. Gingerbread trim adorned the two-story inn.

I drove to the back and pulled off to the side of the parking area by the garage. The back door of the inn burst open, and a ten-year-old boy bounded down the stairs followed by a short, heavy-set basset hound.

“Miss Kelly! Miss Kelly! Hi!” Tommy slid to a stop in front of me. “Welcome back.” His tricolored hound, Fred, jumped up and down next to him, or at least as best he could. His upper torso could only clear the ground by a couple of inches.

I smiled. “Glad to be here, Tommy.”

He flew by me with Fred at his heels and clambered up onto the fender of the trailer. “Did you bring a horse? Did you? Did you?”

“No, sorry Tommy. It's filled with my things.”

Helen, Tommy's mother, had followed him outside. She wiped her hands on her apron and gave me a hug. “It's so good to have you back, Kelly.”

I returned the embrace. She looked much better than the last time I saw her, with more color in her face and no longer gaunt and haggard looking.

“And it's wonderful to see you, Helen. And Tommy and Fred, of course.” I smiled at her. “I'm excited to hear how things are going.”

“Why the horse trailer?”

“I decided this trailer was the easiest way for me to haul my stuff. My parents are going to come for a visit in a couple of months when the weather at the ranch in Wyoming makes California sound good. They'll take it back with them then.”

Tommy climbed down and patted Fred, who'd been unsuccessful at jumping up onto the trailer.

“I didn't bring a horse, Tommy, but I do have my saddle. Would you like to see it?” The last time I'd been here, Diane at Redwood Cove Stable had offered to let me ride an Appaloosa, Nezi, when the horse was available. I intended to take her up on it.

“You bet.”

I went over to the trailer, unlatched the tailgate, and placed it on the ground, forming a ramp. The saddle was on a wooden stand I'd secured to the wall. Tommy rushed into the trailer and began to trace the intricate tooled leather pattern with his fingers.

“I'll be doing some riding at a local stable,” I told him. “It's nice to have my own saddle because the stirrups are adjusted for me and the seat fits.”
And it's part of my family life I'd brought with me.

“Cool. Did you bring your bridle?”

“No, the bits used on the bridles are specific to each horse's needs. There are lots of different types.”

Tommy reached out and touched my leather belt with the gold and silver championship barrel racing buckle. “Wow.” His eyes were wide.

I had never heard a one-syllable word sound so long as when Tommy uttered that word. I had wrapped the belt around the saddle horn at the last minute. It wasn't everyday wear, but I'd ridden with it for years and decided to bring it along.

Before I could explain, my attention was drawn away to the rattling engine of an approaching vehicle. I looked down the driveway and saw a faded blue Volkswagen bus approaching.

I knew it well.

The vehicle parked at the back of the inn and tall, lanky Daniel Stevens emerged, the newly appointed manager of Ridley House, a sister property. His daughter, Allie, appeared from around the back of the bus. They were father-daughter look-alikes with their straight blue-black hair, high cheekbones, and copper-hued skin.

Daniel gave me a quick, friendly hug. “It's good to have you back.”

“I'm glad to be here.”

Allie smiled. “Hi, Kelly.”

Tommy called out, “Allie, come look at this cool saddle and belt.” She left to join him.

“How are the renovations coming?” I asked.

“Fine. They're on schedule,” Daniel replied. “Should be done by the end of next week, and Redwood Cove B&B will be ready to open.”

“Michael asked me to do an inventory of some historic items at a place called Redwood Heights and help out with a festival this weekend.”

“He told me,” Daniel said. “After acquiring Ridley House a couple of months ago, Michael decided to put Redwood Heights up for sale. It's a little different from his other properties,” Daniel said.

A glance passed between Helen and Daniel.

I wondered what that was about.

“I've been helping with some repairs to get the place ready to sell,” Daniel continued. “Michael's got an interested buyer. It's worked out well since I've been overseeing the construction on all three places.”

Helen chimed in. “I've been preparing the afternoon appetizers. Since I was available, it made sense to give the cook at the Heights a chance to have a vacation.”

“What's the event this weekend?” I asked. “Michael said you'd fill me in.”

“The whales migrate this time of year,” Helen explained. “And there's some great whale watching opportunities. Communities up and down the coast host various activities.”

“What fun!”

“We call our festival Whale Frolic,” Helen added. “There'll be a chowder contest and inns around town will have wine and gourmet treats for people to enjoy. Redwood Heights will be one of the places participating. The money from the tickets benefits the local hospital.”

Daniel watched the kids happily chattering as they examined the saddle and the belt. “There's a social hour at five at Redwood Heights if you'd like to go tonight,” he said. “That is, if you're not too tired.”

“Sounds great. After all the sitting I've been doing, I'd enjoy some activity.”

“We can introduce you to the manager, Margaret Hensley.” He shot Helen another quick look.

What was going on between these two?

A creaking noise caused the three of us to look down the driveway. A large motor home was crawling toward us, rocking gently from side to side. It drove by and parked in front of my Jeep.

Pictures of two larger-than-life beagles covered the side of the RV. One of them wore a pink collar, the other one blue. The slogan emblazoned next to them read, “Bedbugs? Termites? If you've got 'em, they'll find 'em. Call on Jack and Jill. Get the four-legged pros on the job and have a restful sleep tonight.” A phone number was underneath it.

“Daniel?” I turned and looked up at him. “Is there something you haven't told me?”

Little did I know bedbugs and termites would be the least of my concerns in the coming days . . .