Murder at the Mansion (2 page)

D
aniel laughed. “No. There's nothing to worry about.”

“What a relief!”

“That's Stephen, Gertie's son. He and his dog team checked the inn and didn't find anything. Before he could check the other buildings, he got called away on a bedbug emergency, but now he's back.”

It was my turn to laugh. “A bedbug emergency. That's a new one for me.”

“Tomorrow he's going to start work at Redwood Heights. He—”

A honking car horn interrupted him. We looked around. A gold vintage Mercedes sedan sailed by and floated to a stop. Hands waved from the four open windows.

The driver's door opened and a diminutive man in a tweed jacket and tan cap got out. He opened the back door, took the cane that was handed to him, and offered his arm to the occupant. A tiny woman emerged, her silver hair glinting in the sunlight. While this was happening, the other three passengers disembarked.

The group rushed toward me, all talking at once.

“Welcome back, Miss Kelly,” Ivan's booming voice rang out.

Mary Rutledge said in her usual soft voice, “So wonderful to have you here.”

There they were, the Silver Sentinels, each of them dear to my heart. The dapper Professor, no-nonsense Gertie with her cane, Mary carrying the ever-present container of goodies, and the Doblinksy brothers, Ivan and Rudy. Their monochromatic hair color ranged from the Professor's white to Rudy's steel gray. I wondered what the crime-solving group of senior citizens had been up to since I left. I looked forward to finding out.

“So lovely to see you again, my dear,” the Professor said. He clasped my hand and gave it a soft squeeze.

He had informed me when I first met him his name was Herbert Winthrop, but he went by Professor, part of his inheritance from the time he taught at the University of California in Berkeley.

“Nice to see you, Professor.” I returned his gentle pressure.

Mary pushed the plastic box she held into my hands. “Honey, I'm sure you're hungry after all the driving you've been doing. I made you some special treats.”

The same mothering Mary—round features, plump cheeks. Always sure to have something sweet to share with others.

I lifted the lid and found my favorite cookies: giant chocolate chip. My mouth watered at their freshly baked smell.

“Thanks. I'm sure they'll be delicious as always.” I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug.

Bear-sized Ivan and his slightly built brother jostled each other as they came to greet me.

Ivan turned his fisherman's cap around and around in his hands. “We so happy you back.” His Russian accent was heavy, but his meaning came through clearly. “And now you stay.”

“Yes, Ivan, now I stay.” I smiled at him. “I'm happy to be back, too.”

Rudy gently patted my arm. “Now we are all together again.”

The Sentinels had made me an honorary member during my previous stay at Redwood Cove when we worked a case together. “Yes, and I look forward to hearing what you've been doing.”

“A bit of this and bit of that,” the Professor said.

Gertrude Plumber, who preferred to be called Gertie, approached. The cane all but disappeared when I experienced the strength of her personality. “Smart bringing your stuff in a horse trailer. From your parents' ranch, I presume. Didn't have to rent anything.”

“Right.” When I had been given the manager's job at Redwood Cove B & B, they had all turned out to wish me well and a speedy return as I left for my parents' place to pack my things.

“I'd like you to meet my son, Stevie,” Gertie said.

While we'd been talking, the man driving the motor home had joined the group. He stepped forward and stood next to his mother, making me think of Paul Bunyan and Tinker Bell. Only this Paul Bunyan wore a tie-dyed, waffle-knit long-sleeved top, faded jeans, and Birkenstocks. His receding hairline flowed into a head of gray hair, then into a long ponytail. The wire-rimmed glasses he wore framed a pair of the gentlest eyes I'd ever seen.

He gave me a little wave. “Hi there.”

“Glad to meet you.”

Mary beamed at me. “Sweetie, you must be tired, so we'll go. As soon as we heard you were here, we wanted to come and say hi.” She turned to Helen, and her dimples came into view. “Thanks for calling. I activated our phone tree, and here we are.”

Ah, yes, the wildfire communication system of the small community. Obviously it was alive and well.

“Stevie's birthday is tomorrow, and I'm having a party. We'd like you to join us,” Gertie said.

“I'd love to. Thank you for the invitation.”

“You're welcome. Seven o'clock. And, please, no gifts. I'm keeping this simple.”

They all piled back into the car and left amid a chorus of good-byes.

As things quieted, we became aware of howls from the motor home. Two dogs peered at us through a window.

“I'll let Jack and Jill out now and start checking the garage and work shed,” Stevie said.

He walked over to his RV, opened the driver's side door, and out bounded two beagles. They were almost identical in markings, except that one had a pink collar and the other one blue.

“The pink collared one is Jill, the other one's Jack. Big surprise, I bet.” He chuckled. “It's an easy way for people to tell them apart.”

Allie and Tommy had gotten out of the horse trailer along with the basset hound. Jill ran over to Fred and immediately began making friends. Jack, ahead of her, stopped and turned around with a puzzled look on his face. Where was his partner?

Jack turned and hurried back. Suddenly Jill went into play pose. The dogs didn't move for a couple of seconds, and then they were off. Brown, white, and black spotted canines ran happily around in circles.

Doggie playtime always brought a grin to my face. Their wild abandon expressed sheer joy. It would be wonderful if humans could do it so easily.

“Jack and Jill, come.” Stephen leashed his team as they skidded to a stop at his side. “Time for you to earn your kibble.”

Tommy came over. “They're trained sniffers, right?”

Stevie laughed. “Yes. You could say that.”

“Fred is, too. He was trained to detect cancer.”

“Wow! I've heard about that,” Stevie said. “They have a lot in common. Maybe that's why they're getting along so well.”

Tommy looked at his mother. “Allie and I are going to start our homework now.”

“Good idea. There's fresh lemonade in our refrigerator.”

Tommy and Helen lived in a small cottage behind the B & B. He and Allie raced each other, with Fred close behind. It wasn't much of a match with Allie's long legs.

“Is it okay to pet your dogs?” I asked Stevie.

“Sure. They love all the attention they can get.”

I knelt down next to them and rubbed their ears, one hand for Jack, the other for Jill.

Stevie turned to Daniel. “I'll check Helen's cottage tomorrow. I should be done by late morning, and then I can start on Redwood Heights.”

“Great. I'll meet you here, and we can go over together.”

“Sounds like a plan, man.”

I stood. “Your dogs are sure cuties.”

“Thanks. They're my kids. I love them. And they're good at what they do.” Stevie led the beagles off to the garage.

Daniel moved toward the trailer. “Kelly, do you want help unpacking?”

“No, thanks. I'm just going to take in the basics I used at the hotels on the drive here for now.”

Helen started back to the inn. “I need to finish the appetizers for tonight.”

“Why don't I pick you both up in an hour?” Daniel asked.

Helen and I agreed that worked for us.

Looking around, I decided the best place to leave the trailer was next to the garage. I closed the horse trailer, drove it closer to the building, and parked. I unhitched it and took the Jeep back to the parking lot. I grabbed my backpack and black duffel bag from the backseat and went into the inn through the back door. I entered the large multipurpose room.

The kitchen area lined one wall, with a counter separating it from the main room. It worked as both a place to eat and a food preparation area. A granite island with stools to accommodate six people stood next to the counter. A large oak table supplied a place to sort papers, lay out numerous contracts, and provided an alternate eating site. A television, overstuffed chairs, and beanbags that could be pulled out for additional seating were off in one corner for leisure moments.

It was the main room for the inn's staff activities. The person who designed it had functionality and quality in mind. It was a room you walked into and felt surrounded by comfort. I loved it.

“Your place is open,” Helen called out as she grabbed trays of stuffed mushrooms from the refrigerator.

“Thanks.” My place. My wonderful, incredible place.

Once again my heart raced faster. This time my feet picked up their pace as well.

The Oriental runner covering the dark wood floor muffled my steps as I walked down the hallway. Ahead, I saw the door to my rooms. I paused a moment, then opened it.

As I stepped in, I thanked the architect who created the work of art that brought light and nature together in such a spectacular way. Walls of glass framed the rugged coastline. Churning waves, craggy rocks, and a jagged beach stretched out ahead of me. The inn's lush gardens enclosed the room on one side. The flowers created a riot of color and looked like a painting. Little brown birds—LBBs, as my birder friend called them—landed on a feeder in the yard, so close I could see the distinctive differences in their feather patterns.

I put my bags on the bench seat next to the wall and went into the miniature kitchen. It was as I remembered. Everything sized for a small unit, except for the large, professional coffeemaker, an important piece of equipment in my boss's life. I put the makings together for an espresso and started it up. I peeked in the bedroom and was surprised to see a new comforter set. Swirls of green and blue made it one with the view from the front room.

I pulled a small, buttery-soft leather pouch from my fleece pocket and traced the multicolored beads sewn in a V-shape on the front of it with my finger. I opened it and dropped its contents onto my palm. A miniature black raven looked up at me with its bright blue eye. I studied the meticulously carved, artfully sculpted wings and the lines of the feathers.

Grandpa had asked me to pick a Zuni fetish from his collection to accompany me on this new path in my life. It had been a difficult decision. Native American lore attributed different meanings to many animals. The badger had the ability to help reach a desired goal. I was excited about my new job and wanted this to be my career, so I was tempted to choose an amber one from the assortment. But I felt pulled to the raven, believed to give its keeper courage to work through problems and face personal fears. In the end I had settled on the black bird.

I put him on the table next to the bench seat, then curled up on the soft cushions and sipped the coffee. Daniel would be back soon, but I wanted a moment to soak this all in. It was a new beginning with wonderful friends already a part of it. Still hard to believe. I felt so lucky.

Looking at my watch, I saw it was time to move. I unpacked the heavy company fleece and the lightweight nylon jacket Corrigan had sent with the cardholder. They had R
EDWOOD
C
OVE
B
ED-AND-
B
REAKFAST
embossed underneath R
ESORTS
I
NTERNATIONAL. A
glance outside showed fog beginning to swirl in. I chose the fleece.

I joined Helen in the main room.

“Ready to go?” Helen asked.

“Sure. What can I help you with?” Two boxes were on the counter, containing stacks of plastic-wrapped trays full of appetizers.

Through the back door window, I saw Daniel's bus roll into the backyard.

Helen pointed to a box. “Grab that one.”

I could almost hear my red hair beginning to curl in the foggy air as I walked outside. I got in the middle bench seat and placed the hors d'oeuvres on my lap.

Redwood Heights was only a short distance from the Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast. A block from the inn, we took a left turn down a hill and went around a corner, and there it was.

I gasped. The building sat nestled among giant redwoods. It was two stories with row after row of windows interspersed with French doors leading to balconies protected by black wrought-iron railings. A master craftsman had twisted them into intricate twirls and patterns, same as the ones encircling the top of the building. The mansion reminded me of a majestic English queen, the towering trees her staff-in-waiting, her billowing skirts the outcropping of buildings spreading to either side, her crown the widow's walk on top.

This answered one question—what Daniel and Helen had meant when they said this property was different. It definitely wasn't like any other Resorts International properties I knew. The ones I'd experienced and the ones I'd read about had a more casual air to them.

We pulled into the back and unloaded. Helen busied herself in the kitchen, heating the appetizers.

“I get them ready, then the staff minds them and adds as necessary to the hot trays in the parlor,” she explained.

“The guest area is this way.” Daniel pointed to a hallway.

We walked into a room filled with guests and over to the sideboard holding the evening's offerings.

Large crystal chandeliers lit the room. Tables were covered with white brocade tablecloths. A stack of fine china plates sat next to an array of artisan cheeses and several wine choices.