While Lacey snored in a manner totally unlike any prom queen, Kateri drove to the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast.
Kateri needed to take a moment to see her best friend; this morning Merida had been scared to death, and a law enforcement presence might help frighten off the mouth breathers and knuckle draggers—although possibly not the murderers and rapists. Still, hope springs eternal.
Of course, while she was at the bed-and-breakfast, she’d get to see her sister, too.
God help her.
When she parked at the curb, Lacey was on her feet, wagging her tail and ready to go. The clear message was that thirty minutes of sleep could be refreshing.
Kateri could only imagine.
Together they walked the shadowy path, up the rickety stairs and over to the grand front door. Kateri read the plaque:
GOOD KNIGHT MANOR BED AND BREAKFAST
IF NO ANSWER, WALK IN.
She knocked. No one opened the door, so she did as the sign instructed and walked in.
Lacey trotted in on her heels.
The entry looked like an Addams Family nightmare. To the left all the doors were shut. To the right a parlor had been attractively arranged, set up for an evening of wine and appetizers. On the wall, Kateri saw a cutesy sign inviting her to use the ship’s bell and small mallet, but from the back in the depths of the mansion, she heard raised voices.
She moved slowly toward those voices, reluctant to get involved in a domestic dispute—they were always messy and seldom rewarding—yet one voice was male and abusive, one softly female and pleading.
Trouble. Kateri had walked into trouble.
What else was new?
With a whispered word and a soft gesture, she instructed Lacey to wait in the entry. She eased toward the back of the house, through the empty kitchen, then stood to one side of the large, walk-in pantry. She couldn’t see the occupants, but she could hear them.
“You owe me!” the male voice said.
“If you would simply work for me…”
“Work! Why would I work? For you? After everything you did to me?”
“I didn’t do anything to you!”
“You let me go to prison!”
“You were robbing convenience stores!”
“You wouldn’t give me any of the money.”
“I told you. They caught me. I had to save myself. You could have run—”
“And never come back to plague you again. Yeah, thanks.”
Kateri heard a clatter, a crash, a woman’s cry, and rushed to stand in the doorway.
A tall young man, red-faced and furious, swept cans, boxes and bottles off the shelves. Flour flew. Glass crashed. Fruit and pickle juice sprayed.
The older woman grabbed at his arm and hollered, “No. Stop! Or I will—”
“Excuse me,” Kateri said firmly and loudly. “Is there a problem?”
The two froze.
The man glimpsed her uniform, dropped his arm, turned his head away. He spoke in a quiet, orderly voice, like a second grader caught feeding the dog his homework. “I was, um, going out to work on the garage. ’Scuse me.” He brushed past Kateri and out the kitchen door.
Kateri watched—and wondered. In the short time she’d been listening, she’d heard the guy go from threatening to violent to impressively orderly. Was this the man who’d terrorized Merida? “Are you okay?” Kateri asked the older woman.
“Fine. I just…” She looked around. “What a mess!”
“Do you want to press charges?”
“Against … him? No. No, not at all. He’s … new here. My new handyman. Evan. Evan doesn’t want me to criticize his efforts, but he’ll be … he’ll work out. I am not someone who is easily intimidated.” The woman edged her way out of the pantry. “Oh, dear. Susie will not be happy.”
“Susie?”
“My cleaning lady, Susie Robinson. You … you’re the sheriff.”
“Yes, I’m Kateri Kwinault.”
“Then you probably know her all too well. The poor dear has four children and a husband who beats her. I imagine occasionally you get called to her house?”
“No, I don’t recall any Susie Robinson.”
Phoebe said bracingly, “Don’t feel bad. You’re new at the job. I’m sure soon you’ll remember the names of your regulars.”
“Actually I was the interim sheriff and—”
The lady interrupted. “I’m Phoebe Glass, the proprietress of the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast. What can I do for you?”
Kateri shook hands, noting Phoebe’s fingers were trembling and her gaze slid away to the side.
Her body language said she knew Kateri could and probably had heard the altercation and was drawing unfortunate conclusions. And in fact, Kateri would do a little poking around in Phoebe Glass’s background. “I came to see Merida. She lives here?”
“Yes. Lovely girl. She went for a run. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” Phoebe frowned. “Did you know she can’t speak?”
“I am aware.”
“You can wait in the parlor. This way.” Phoebe led the way out of the kitchen and toward the entry. “I wish she had told me. She must be self-conscious about her handicap, but I am the last person to judge someone for being unable to properly communicate.” Phoebe seemed to realize her faux pas, and rattled on. “Not that she can’t properly communicate, of course, in her way. Isn’t the computer tablet a grand invention when it comes to helping all of us, especially her, get by? Here’s the parlor.” Phoebe’s tone cooled perceptibly. “Oh! Miss Palmer, I see you found our parlor more acceptable this morning than you did last night.”
Lilith sat in a high-backed, cushioned chair turned sideways to the door. Lifting her head from her book, she icily stared at Phoebe Glass. “I could hardly expect to spend all my time in that tiny bedroom you assigned me.”
“I had to bump another guest to fit you in!”
“Yes.” Lilith transferred her attention to Kateri. “Katherine, do you never groom before you go out in public?”
Kateri thought about the 2:30 A.M. call, the bloody crime scene, the subdued officers, the coroner pointing out the tear in Carolyn Abner’s skin where the killer had abandoned his work, the reports, the paperwork, the visit to the Gem Lounge … “This is as groomed as I get.”
“I heard there was a murder this morning?” Phoebe asked. “I didn’t expect that kind of crime when I moved to Virtue Falls.”
“You weren’t paying attention, then,” Lilith said. “A few years ago they had quite the string of ghastly murders. It was in all the news.”
“The visitors’ bureau certainly never mentioned any killers!” Phoebe huffed.
“No. They wouldn’t, would they?” Lilith lifted the hardcover in her lap. “Yet here on your shelves is a fictionalized accounting of the murders. Perhaps you should peruse it.”
“A lodger must have left it here,” Phoebe said. “I’ll read it when you’re done.”
To Kateri’s astonishment, Lacey popped her head up over the arm of Lilith’s chair.
But Kateri’s astonishment was nothing compared to Phoebe’s. “Miss Palmer, I had no idea you brought a dog into the bed-and-breakfast. I’m afraid that’s not permissible.”
“Lacey is my dog.” Kateri moved toward the chair. “I’ll remove her at once.”