Grimshaw thought about her reaction to him, the way she had flinched a couple of times as if expecting a blow of some kind. “She has trouble being around men?” Owning a resort was a bad choice of profession if that was the case.
“Friends are fine. I didn’t hear of her having problems with any of the contractors who did work at The Jumble. But when it gets too personal? The anxiety attack that follows can’t be described as mild.” Julian hesitated. “Vicki boarded with Ineke Xavier while The Jumble was being restored. One night one of the other guests tried some moves. I don’t know any details except Ineke kicked the man to the curb and called the doctor to deal with Vicki’s reaction.”
“Crap,” Grimshaw said softly. Nervy didn’t begin to describe someone like that.
“We meet up for lunch sometimes or go to a movie with other friends. As long as no one calls it a date, with whatever physical demands that word conjures up for her, she’s fine.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“She’s my friend. I’m okay with that.” Julian blew out a breath. “There is a rumor that the dead man was connected to a developer who is going to build a significant lakeside resort.”
An abrupt change of subject. Grimshaw took the hint. “You figure someone is looking at The Jumble for that?”
“That’s the only land available, and it isn’t really available.”
“Unless a dead body shows up on the property and the investigation scares off the current owner.” He thought for a moment. “What about the other side of the lake? Could someone be looking at that?”
Julian huffed out a laugh. “Silence Lodge is the home of the local group of Sanguinati. No one with brains, or any desire to live, would approach the vampires about developing land around the lake.”
“What if I needed to talk to one of them?”
“Call your landlords. I believe they have the other office above the police station.”
“Crap,” Grimshaw said. “How many buildings do the Sanguinati own in this village?”
“More than the mayor or anyone else realizes. But that’s just a guess.”
Too much to think about, and he needed some time and quiet to think. “Anyplace around here to stay? Didn’t see an inn or motel.”
“Ineke Xavier’s boardinghouse, if you’re looking for short term. It’s clean and the food is good. She can be a bit . . . difficult . . . at times, but it’s your best choice. For longer term, there are some cabins along Mill Creek, which has a water mill that generates the electricity for the cabins. Come to think of it, I think it’s the source of electricity for The Jumble too. The cabins are basic one-bedroom, but furniture can be included. I’m renting one of them and can’t complain.”
“Who owns the cabins?” But Grimshaw had a feeling he already knew.
“The residents of Silence Lodge. Don’t let paved streets and storefronts fool you, Wayne. This is the wild country, and all of us are prey.”
A lot to think about. “I guess I’d better go over to the boardinghouse and see if Ms. Xavier has a room to rent. How much do I owe you for the books?”
“Bring them back in decent shape and I can sell them to Vicki as good used books.” Julian smiled. “She’s building up a library for herself and for her potential guests, but she’s on a budget.”
It was tempting to ask if Julian knew that Victoria DeVine’s lodger was one of the Crowgard, but that could wait for another day.
“See you around, Julian.”
“Your business is just across the street from mine, so that’s likely.”
Following Julian’s directions, Grimshaw got in his car and drove to the boardinghouse.
Yeah. He had a lot to think about, regardless of what the Crime Investigation Unit uncovered.
Like, what was Julian Farrow really doing in a place like Sproing?
CHAPTER 6
Vicki
Sunsday, Juin 13
Ineke Xavier ran the boardinghouse in Sproing. She was a tall woman—at least compared to me—and wore black-framed glasses. What made her stand out was her hair. It was a dark brown that was almost black, streaked with bright burgundy and teal.
There had been a lot of rumors flying around Hubb NE last year about the terra indigene and some of their deadliest forms. One rumor was that there was a form of terra indigene that could kill with just a look and it could be recognized by its multicolored hair. So it was understandable that guests, when first seeing Ineke, might wonder what they were walking into. And, in truth, there were some who looked at Ineke and walked back out, preferring to stay in the camper park at the edge of town, renting a camper that didn’t have its own toilet instead of staying in a clean room at the boardinghouse—an en suite room if you were willing to pay extra for one of the boardinghouse’s deluxe suites.
Ineke was a good cook, but she wasn’t much interested in baking. She left that to Dominique, one of the two young women who were somehow related to her and also worked for her. So when she showed up at The Jumble as soon as she finished serving breakfast at the boardinghouse, set a large bag on my kitchen table, and pulled out tins of chocolate chip cookies, cinnamon muffins, double-fudge brownies, and pecan-caramel rolls, I didn’t need to be a blood prophet to know she wanted something.
“Is this a bribe?” I asked.
“Of course it’s a bribe.” She sounded insulted that I had to ask. “Do you think I would bring this many treats for anything less?”
Not when sugar and flour were still limited items that weren’t always available.
I selected a chocolate chip cookie from the tin and took a bite. Delicious. Wonderful. And I flashed to the memory of Yorick giving me that smile and a little finger shake whenever I wanted to enjoy a sweet. Not gorge, mind you, just have an end-of-the-meal sweet—a family tradition he insisted on, claiming that none of the members of his family had ever gotten fat by having a small sweet after dinner. But I still got that smile and finger shake at the end of every meal—or a mild scold about being wasteful when I turned down the sweet.
I pushed aside memories that still soured my enjoyment of food most of the time while triggering a need to stuff my face. Feeling rebellious, I took another bite of the cookie. “Why the bribe?”
“People need time to get away from routine and relax. Now more than ever. And the Finger Lakes region has always been a popular destination. But the businesses in Sproing need something more than the Sproingers to give people a reason to stay here for a long weekend instead of spending time at one of the other lakes. I’ve been thinking about ways to hook the tourists, and I have a proposal for you.” Ineke helped herself to a brownie. “I have an arrangement with the stable that adjoins the boardinghouse land.”