Death by Vanilla Latte Page 4

  4

  I took my time walking to my car, stopping every now and again to hang up a flyer. Most of the businesses on the block were happy to take one and stick it in their window. Would it help get the word out about Dad’s signing? I had no idea. I never paid attention to anything hanging in a window unless it said SALE! in big capital letters.

  Once I reached my car, I considered going back and telling Dad to forget it. I really didn’t want to check on Rick, but I said I’d do it in a fit of insanity. All I knew for sure was, I wasn’t going to go into Rick’s room without some backup. If I had to drag Ted Bunford up the stairs with me, I’d do it, just so I wouldn’t be alone with Rick.

  If it weren’t for my worry about how Rick was going to take my showing up at his door, it would have been a pleasant drive to Ted and Bettfast. The sun was out, and the breeze was cool. Maybe once I’d finished working for the day, I’d see if Dad wanted to go for a walk. It would give us a chance to talk without other people—Rita, namely—butting in.

  The long, twisty driveway to the bed-and-breakfast appeared, and I took it slowly, marveling at the view. The house itself was a mansion that had fallen on rough times. The current owners, Ted and Bett Bunford, had worked hard to bring the place back to something of its former glory, though its age was really starting to show through again. I didn’t know if it was the couple’s age or a lack of funds that caused the slowdown in the repairs, but it was a shame. I could only imagine how magnificent the house would be if it were to be fully restored.

  As it was, the ivy was taking over, and the surrounding flora wasn’t being cared for like it used to. The hedge animals lining the driveway looked especially sad, since they hadn’t been trimmed in quite a while.

  I parked in the lot next to a battered Prius. There were only a couple of other cars in sight. I didn’t know what Rick might be driving, if anything, since he’d flown in. Chances were good he’d had Cameron drive him around, though it seemed odd that Rick’s assistant was staying somewhere else, not at the same bed-and-breakfast as his boss. I was guessing they both had rentals, but Rick was forcing Cameron to play taxi because he couldn’t be seen driving himself anywhere.

  It was no wonder Cameron was staying somewhere else. “I wouldn’t want to be near him either,” I grumbled, getting out of my car. If Cameron were under the same roof as Rick, I bet he’d never get a lick of sleep, having to wait on the man hand and foot.

  As I started for the front door, I noted one of the vehicles in the lot. I recognized the truck as belonging to Justin, one of the employees here. It would help to have someone I knew with me if I had to drag Rick out of his room.

  I entered and was immediately met by a tall lanky kid with long hair that covered most of his face. I could only see one eye, and it widened when he saw me.

  “Hi, Justin,” I said, stopping in front of him. He looked just as miserable as when I’d last seen him, which was his standard appearance. His emotional range seemed to go from nervously depressed to shyly miserable.

  “Ms. Hancock.” His gaze darted around the room as if he were afraid of being seen with me. “What are you doing here?”

  I held up the flyers Vicki had given me. “My dad is holding a book signing at Death by Coffee this weekend and I was wondering if it would be okay to hang some of these up to promote it.”

  Justin shrugged one shoulder. “You’ll have to ask the Bunfords.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that.” I smiled. “So, how have things been at work since . . .” I shrugged. The last time we’d talked, Justin had given me a piece of evidence that helped crack a murder investigation wide open. He has, let’s call them, sticky fingers, and while I normally don’t condone that sort of behavior, it had helped me out a lot.

  “Good.” He rubbed at his chin, which was acne-free. Apparently, it had cleared up since our last interaction. “Nothing bad’s happened since then. And I’ve stopped. You know.” His gaze darted around the room. “I don’t do it no more.”

  “I’m glad,” I said. And I really was. Justin seemed like a good kid. He’d stolen from the guests in order to help support his little sister, which is why I hadn’t turned him in. I was hoping he’d stopped because he’d found a better, legal way of earning more money, not that he’d moved on to major crimes, instead.

  “It’s been tough.” He scuffed a sneaker on the floor. “But I’m getting by. I was afraid you’d tell on me.”

  “Hey, you helped me out. I wouldn’t rat on you after that.”

  His lips moved in a way that I thought was supposed to be a smile, but it was hard to tell. “Cool.”

  I heaved a sigh. I knew I was procrastinating, but I really didn’t want to go up and see Rick. A part of me hoped he’d already left and I would find an empty room. I had a bad feeling I wouldn’t be so lucky.

  “Hey, Justin, do you know if Rick Wiseman is here? He’s my dad’s agent and I heard he was staying here. No one has been able to reach him all day, so I thought I’d stop in and check on him.”

  Justin looked down at his shoes. “I don’t know. He doesn’t want anyone to clean his room while he’s here.”

  I nodded. That sounded like Rick. “Did he come down for breakfast?”

  A single shoulder shrug.

  “Have you talked to him at all?” It might have come out a little exasperated. I knew Justin didn’t like to get involved with the guests, other than his past thieving ways, but he should at least know whether or not they were still around. He did work here.

  “Not really.” He glanced around again and then lowered his voice. “Mr. Wiseman isn’t exactly well liked around here. I heard Mr. and Mrs. Bunford talking earlier. They were thinking of asking him to check out early.”

  “Really? Why would they do that?”

  “He doesn’t get along with anyone.” Justin chewed on his lower lip a moment before going on. “He sent one of the girls who works here home crying because she said something to him he didn’t like.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I don’t know. I was cleaning another room at the time. All I know is he called her up to his room, spoke to her for a few minutes, and then she said something that caused him to start yelling. He slammed the door in her face and then called Mr. and Mrs. Bunford to complain.”

  “Geesh.” I shook my head sadly, but wasn’t surprised. “Did you have any encounters with him like that?”

  “No.” He sounded relieved. “Don’t think I ever want to. He isn’t a nice man.”

  It sounded like Rick wasn’t just mean to his assistant, but was an all-around jerk. It made me wonder if he ever treated anyone with respect.

  “Do you think Rick is still in his room?” I asked. “You didn’t see him leave or anything, right?”

  “As far as I know, he’s still there. He usually calls down and has someone bring up something for breakfast, but not today.”

  I lowered my voice conspiratorially. “Would it be okay if I went up and checked on him?” I asked. “Since he knows me, he won’t be angry about the interruption. There are some people worried about him.”

  Justin shrugged. “I don’t care. Just don’t let Mr. or Mrs. Bunford catch you. They’re upset about all the noise lately and don’t want anyone bothering the guests.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  Justin told me which room Rick was staying in and then wandered off to sulk elsewhere. The kid was friendly when you could get him to talk, but was always so nervous, it actually made me nervous. I hoped that once he got past his depressed, awkward stage, he’d finally break out of his shell a little more. He deserved to find someone nice, despite his slightly checkered past.

  I walked slowly up the wooden staircase, listening for the sound of anyone approaching. I doubted Ted or Bett would throw me out if they saw me, but I didn’t want to have to explain myself, either. The older couple were friendly enough to me before and might want to talk. While it wouldn’t be terrible to catch up, I was here for a reason and needed to g
et back to work soon. I’d have to remember to at least drop off the flyers at the desk on my way out.

  I reached Rick’s room and hesitated before knocking. I hadn’t realized it when Justin had told me, but the room was the same one in which a murder victim had stayed a few months back. That guy hadn’t been very nice either, but it still gave me the willies thinking about it. He hadn’t died here, but still . . . It was creepy.

  The room across the hall had a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob, so when I knocked on Rick’s door, I did so quietly. As I waited, I glanced around, taking in the sights. When I’d last visited Ted and Bettfast, I’d paid little attention to the hallways, focusing instead on the people.

  Old paintings hung from the wall, or at least, the paintings were framed to make them look old. I doubted the Bunfords had spent a lot on them, judging by how the manor had started to fall into disrepair again. The carpet was clean, if not worn from years of guests walking the halls. It was actually pretty peaceful as well. Quiet. You could almost feel the history emanating from the walls. It made me wonder who had owned the building before, if it was someone important or just someone who’d come across a lot of money and decided to build a big house.

  And then what had happened? Had the previous owners fallen on hard times? Did they suddenly die and leave no heir to claim it?

  I promised myself I’d look into it sometime as I knocked on Rick’s door again. I might not be a big history buff, but I did find it interesting how certain places ended up the way they did, and the bed-and-breakfast had certainly piqued my interest.

  When Rick didn’t answer this time, I knocked harder, thinking he might be asleep and couldn’t hear my softer tap. “Rick?” I called. “You in there?”

  Still nothing.

  With a sigh, and a quick look over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching, I tried the door. Much to my surprise, it clicked open. With one last glance over my shoulder, I pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped inside.

  The room hadn’t changed much from when I’d last been inside. There was a TV hanging from the wall, currently off. The bed was big enough for two to three people and had a trio of pillows stacked as if Rick had used them for support while he’d sat on the bed to read. Heavy curtains hung over the windows, casting the room in a deep gloom that made it hard to see.

  “Rick?” I closed the door behind me and then flipped on the light, wincing at how bright it made everything. “You here?”

  A desk sat in front of the windows. Atop it sat Rick’s precious latte machine and a stack of what I assumed were manuscript pages. I eyed the latte machine and considered crossing the room and tossing it out the window, but decided it likely wouldn’t have the desired effect of forcing Rick to buy his latte from Death by Coffee. He’d probably just buy a new machine, instead.

  At first glance, everything seemed in order. It looked like Rick had left at some point and was probably on his way to Death by Coffee even now.

  And then I saw the travel mug on the floor.

  The mug lay across the room, next to the far side of the bed, near the window. The lid was off, and the dark blue carpet was stained a light brown where it had spilled. For the first time, I noticed the room smelled like vanilla and coffee, and something else, something I couldn’t quite place.

  “Rick?” My heart started pounding as I took a step toward the fallen mug. Had he had a heart attack? If so, I prayed I wasn’t too late to help.

  Two more steps, and I could see the floor on the other side of the bed.

  Rick was lying on his stomach, hand outstretched toward the travel mug as if he’d tried to catch it and then collapsed. His neck was bent at an awkward angle, face concealed by a blanket that must have fallen from the bed when he’d gone down.

  I froze, unsure what to do. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing. “Rick?” It came out as a weak gasp. My hands shook as I knelt and reached for his neck.

  My fingers touched cold flesh.

  I jerked back, hands flying to my mouth as I tried not to scream. Sure, I wasn’t Rick’s biggest fan, but I didn’t want him dead. Even rude jerks deserved a chance to live a long and fulfilling life, just as long as they did it far away from me.

  I tentatively reached out and touched him again, just to make sure, and yep, he was definitely dead.

  “Oh no, Dad.” He was not going to take the news well.

  I don’t know why I did it, but I reached out and pulled back the blanket covering his face. Maybe I wanted to double check to make sure he wasn’t messing with me somehow, or maybe some deep dark part of me knew what I would find, but when I pulled the blanket away, I recoiled back, nearly falling over onto the spilled coffee as I did.

  Rick hadn’t died of a heart attack.

  Not unless he’d somehow put a pen through his eye when he’d fallen, and I was assuming that was unlikely.

  No, this wasn’t an accident.

  Rick Wiseman had been murdered.

  5

  This was the first time I’d ever discovered a body, and I could say for a fact, I never wanted to do it again.

  The first few minutes went by in a blur. As soon as I was certain Rick was a goner, I called the police. I’m not even sure what I said. I was darn-near hyperventilating, and I’m sure I babbled a little before I hung up and went downstairs to let Ted and Bett know one of their guests was currently lying in a pool of coffee and his own blood. Needless to say, they weren’t thrilled about my discovery.

  “Every time she comes around, someone dies,” I overheard Bett say to her husband as they both headed up the stairs to check on Rick.

  I wanted to point out that this wasn’t my fault, but doubted they’d listen. Heck, their last guest to die had kicked the bucket in my coffee shop. I’m not sure that would have improved how they thought of me in any way. It might just reinforce the idea that I was responsible for all the deaths in Pine Hills, something I was beginning to wonder about myself. I mean, how many people could die near me before it started to become a fatal pattern doomed to repeat over and over again until I packed my bags and left?

  Once they were gone, I was left alone downstairs. Justin was nowhere in sight, though he’d been nearby when I’d told the Bunfords about Rick’s untimely demise. Right then, I wanted to vanish just as much as he had, but decided it might be best if I stuck around and waited for the police to arrive. I found the body, so they’d want to talk to me. If I left, I had a feeling things would only get harder for me.

  I plopped down in a chair and waited, mind racing. How was I going to tell Dad? What did this mean for his new book? And what about poor Cameron? The guy would probably collapse in shock. He’d been pretty upset when he’d thought he was going to simply be out of a job. Now that Rick was dead, he not only wouldn’t have a job, but he was out a reference, and quite possibly, a friend.

  Well, maybe a work acquaintance. I’m not sure anyone called Rick a friend.

  Sirens filled the air as two police cruisers pulled up out front. I could hear more sirens in the distance, telling me the paramedics were on their way as well. Not that they could do much more than gather Rick up and haul him away.

  I sighed and stood. I wasn’t sure if I should break down and cry or fly into hysterics. Either was just as likely.

  The door opened, and the two police officers I knew the best stepped inside the room. One look at me, and both their faces fell.

  “Krissy,” Officer Paul Dalton said. John Buchannan stood just behind him, glowering.

  “Officer Dalton.” I kept my voice neutral. We’d once been close to becoming an item and there was still something of a flame between us, a flame I tried hard to ignore. We were both seeing someone else, though I’d noticed lately he hadn’t been seen around town with his latest fling, Shannon, much. I tried hard not to care, but couldn’t help it. He was good-looking, and those dimples of his knocked me flat every time he flashed them my way.

  Of course, I saw no dimples in my future. Now was
definitely not the time for smiling.

  “Where is he?” Buchannan asked. He had on his cop face, and as usual, it was trained on me. I was pretty sure he would assume I killed Rick until proved otherwise. I had no idea why he had it out for me so much, but there it was. The guy disliked me, and nothing I did seemed to make much difference.

  “Upstairs.” I focused on Paul as I gave them the room number. He wrote it down, not meeting my eye.

  “Okay, everyone stay here,” he said. Ted and Bett had come back downstairs and were both looking suitably distraught. Justin had materialized from somewhere and was standing in a corner, trying to look like part of the scenery. “And that includes you,” Paul said, pointing at me.

  “Of course,” I said, only mildly insulted. I did have a habit of showing up exactly where he didn’t want me, so some distrust was understandable.

  Both Paul and Buchannan went upstairs to check on the body just as the paramedics arrived. I waited and watched while techs and cops moved up and down the stairs. I was in something of a daze, and just stood there like a dope. A cop I didn’t know arrived and took Ted and Bett aside and asked them a few questions. They kept looking over at me like they thought I might go and kill someone else if they didn’t keep an eye on me. I was itching to tell someone I had nothing to do with Rick’s death, but it wasn’t until Paul came back downstairs and took me aside that anyone asked me anything.

  “He’s dead,” he said as we came to a stop in a quiet part of the front room.

  “I know that,” I said with a little heat. Now that I’d been mostly ignored and had gotten over the initial shock, I was a little peeved that someone hadn’t said anything to me before now. “I’m the one who found him.”

  Paul frowned. “What were you doing in his room? Do you know the victim?”

  “His name is Rick Wiseman. He was my dad’s literary agent. They’re in town to have a book signing and I was told no one could reach him. Since I knew the place, and the owners, I offered to come over and check on him. And well”—I shrugged—“I found him.”