Corpses & Conmen (Rosewood Place Mysteries Book 2) (8 page)

Annie watched Frank for a few minutes, taking care to not be seen. She didn’t want him to think that she was spying on him, but she supposed that she actually
was
spying on him. After a few minutes, he gave up on looking for whatever it was he’d been searching for and headed up the hill towards the barn.

From the light coming out of the barn’s open door, Annie guessed that Rory and Devon were inside, probably tending to the puppy they’d found. She made a mental note to talk to Rory later about Frank, then headed back into the house.

She had gotten no further than the kitchen when her phone rang, making her jump a little. Annie pulled out the phone, barely registering the fact that it was Emmett’s number calling her once again. “Hello?”

“Annie, Emmett here. Gotta quick question for you: do you know if Lou Ross had a dog?”

Annie thought for a minute. “I don’t know,” she replied hesitantly. “If he did, he didn’t mention it to me. Why would he?”

“Well, forensics found dog hair all over the front seat of Mr. Ross’s car and there was a near-empty bag of dog food shoved up under one of the seats. The funny thing is, when we went through the items in the car, it didn’t look like Lou was going on vacation.”

“It didn’t?”

“Nope. It looked like he was leaving town. The guy had what looked like everything he owned in that car, what little that was. And he was travelling with quite a bit of interesting paperwork,” Emmett added with a whistle. “Fake passports, driver’s licenses, you name it--he sure was a busy fella.”

Annie shook her head. “Did you happen to find anything about the people he conned?” She thought about what Doris had told everyone at dinner. “I think I should tell you that two of my guests were victims of a con man last year,” she added, hoping that Emmett would tell her that it wasn’t likely that her guests were ever involved with the despicable Mr. Ross.

“You mean the Martins?” Emmett had been busy, indeed. “I didn’t want to say anything just yet, I was hoping you’d have some time to watch your guests for a little bit and see if you spotted any unusual behavior, but since you seem to know something, I’ll fill you in on what we know.

“Ross kept cryptic notes on his victims, as far as we can tell. There was a laptop in the car, but we haven’t been able to get into that yet. Once we’ve gotten in there and retrieved all the information from that we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with, but we did find notes that could have been about the Martins.Then again, he may have never had a thing to do with their situation. Like I said, it’ll take a while to put things together, but I’d venture a guess and say that if the Martins knew that a scam artist was staying there, they wouldn’t be too happy.”

Annie thought about Frank’s angry outburst at dinner and his unusual behavior afterwards. It wasn’t enough to prove that he’d known Lou was at Rosewood Place, but it still made her feel uncomfortable. “Have the Martins seen the body?”

“No,” Emmett replied, “but I may drop by your place sometime to talk to a couple of your guests. I’d like to speak to Miss Fitzsimmons again and maybe show the Martins a picture of Lou Ross.”

Annie thought of the phone she’d found on the deck. “Why do you want to speak to Kizzy?”

“Well, the victim’s prints were found on her phone and she was the last person at the scene of the crime. It might be circumstantial, but I’d like to talk to her again, rule some things out,” he replied casually. Annie knew that Emmett never took anything lightly, so if he wanted to interview her guests again, he must have strong suspicions about who really killed Mr. Ross.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” he added, and Annie could hear him shuffling in his seat. “I just wanted to ask about the dog while it was on my mind. Of course, it could be absolutely unimportant, but you know what they say--sometimes the things that seem unimportant are actually crucial to solving a crime.”

Annie had no idea who ‘they’ were, but Emmett’s logic sounded solid. “Wait, Emmett. I do know something about a dog. Might not be the same one, but like you said, little things, right?”

She told him about the puppy that Rory and Devon found. “Did you take him up to see Dr. Fisher yet?” he asked. “Might have one of those microchips in it.”

“Not yet, but we’re going first thing in the morning,” she replied. “We can swing by the police station if you want to see the dog.”

“Alright, I guess we could take a fur sample,” he chuckled, “maybe run the dog’s pawprints to see if he’s been in any trouble with the law.”

Annie groaned. “I’ll call you if I see anything unusual,” she replied, ignoring his joke.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Emmett added. “We’re not yet sure if Ross was alone when he arrived at your place. It looks like he was working with someone, but he uses codenames in his notes. Once we get into that laptop we might be able to get more information. We’re working on getting his cell phone records, too. He could have been working with someone right up until he was killed, and if so, that person is definitely a suspect, and likely to be a dangerous one.”

Annie frowned. “If he brought someone with him, where did they go? It’s not a short walk to get anywhere from my place,” she asked.

“Might not have brought them,” he replied. “His accomplice could have already been there, waiting for him.” His statement made Annie’s spine tingle with cold. It was bad enough that one of her guests could have murdered Lou, but the possibility that one of them waited patiently for him to arrive, mingled amiably with Annie and her other guests, and then killed the man in cold blood, was more than she could stomach.

“Emmett, you come on by anytime you want to talk to my guests. I’ll let you know if I see anything out of the ordinary.”

“Thanks, Annie. And I guess it goes without saying, but be careful. If there’s a murderer staying at your bed-and-breakfast, they’re hanging around for a reason. If we can figure out what that reason is, we might be able to catch them before anyone else gets hurt.”

Annie felt a chill despite the August heat as she ended the call with Emmett. She considered each of her guests, trying to decide if any one of them seemed more suspicious to her than the others. Frank’s unusual behavior at dinner gnawed at her, but before that he’d seemed so friendly and relaxed. And Emmett seemed to think that Kizzy could still be a suspect. Did the bubbly blonde even have it in her to kill someone?

Annie’s head spun with questions. She didn’t want to think that a killer was sleeping peacefully under her roof. She sighed. She’d always wanted to run a bed-and-breakfast. Her dream of taking care of others in her own home had finally come true. She just never dreamed that taking care of them would mean keeping them safe from cold-blooded killers, especially when the killer was likely to be one of them.

Annie’s heart nearly leapt from her chest when a bony finger tapped her on her left shoulder. She spun around to find Marie peering at her intently. Annie had no idea how long the woman had been standing there, but it made her feel extremely uncomfortable to think that she may have overheard Annie’s conversation with Emmett.

“Mrs. Richards,” Marie began, twisting a strand of beads that circled her neck. “I just wanted to tell you again how lovely I think your home is. As an inn, well, it’s quite cozy, but I can’t help but wish you’d heed my earlier warnings about the spirits here. I have seen things,” she confessed, peering into Annie’s eyes cryptically, “that would make your hair stand on end. I understand if you don’t believe me yet,” she sniffed, “but just don’t say you weren’t warned.”

Marie’s words hung in the air between them for a long moment. Annie didn’t want to offend the woman--she clearly believed every word of her own speech--but Annie had never been superstitious and had no plans to get spooked now.

“I appreciate your concern, Miss Robichaud, but really, I don’t think there’s anything I can do about spirits right now. At the moment, our main concern should be helping the police figure out what happened to Mr. Ross. I don’t even know if he had any relatives who might be missing him, and that worries me just a little more than the possibility of his restless spirit hanging around.”

Marie nodded slowly. “Mr. Reynolds says that the man was a criminal. Perhaps he left no one who mourns him,” she suggested. “All the same, it’s not uncommon for those who die suddenly to have some sort of unfinished business, something that they need to see taken care of, even after they are dead.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just never know,” Annie replied, shaking her head. “It’s not like he left behind a lot of information about himself.” She tried to understand why Marie was so fixated with the idea of Lou’s spirit hanging around. “What is it that you do again, Miss Robichaud? You’re a medium, right?”

Marie smiled. “Yes, that’s right. I have a deep connection to the spirit world and I can often sense things that others can’t. It’s a gift and a curse, I can assure you. But I can tell you that not all spirits go easily into the afterlife. I’ve seen very bad things happen when spirits are angry about their deaths, and I just thought I should warn you so you’d know what to look out for.”

Annie was sceptical, but she didn’t want to offend Marie. Perhaps the woman was telling the truth, or at least her version of it, but Annie didn’t want to start looking for answers in the supernatural realm. “And what is it that I should know?”

“I’ve seen angry spirits burn entire buildings to the ground,” Marie replied, “I’ve seen people become suddenly, inexplicably ill in the presence of a vengeful spirit, and I’ve seen what some would call accidents, but what I would call the act of a soul who is not yet ready to be departed from this world,” she finished gravely. “Don’t discount the possibilities, Annie. Never underestimate the power of the supernatural.” Annie must have looked unconvinced, because Marie continued. “Do you believe in life after death? That those who have died can communicate with the living?”

Annie thought about this for a long moment. It would be nice to believe that death wasn’t the end of things, and it was a pleasant thought that her father’s spirit might be watching over her even in the form of a solemn little redbird. She thought about the diary of Rose Cooper, how it and a letter from Rose’s brother had spoken to her hundreds of years after their deaths. It wasn’t quite the same thing, but it was the type of afterlife communication that Annie felt most comfortable believing.

“I’m not sure what I think,” she replied finally. “But I am certain that we shouldn’t be worrying everyone or causing hysterics by suggesting that there’s an evil spirit running amok on this plantation.” Annie sighed. “Miss Robichaud, I do appreciate your concern, but for now, I’m going to focus on assisting the police with their investigation. Have you had dessert yet? My mother’s blackberry pie is practically blue ribbon,” she finished, changing the subject.

Marie opened her mouth to say something, but she closed it again, silenced for the moment by the approach of Frank. “Mrs. Richards! Mrs. Richards, could I speak to you for a minute?”

Annie turned to see Frank marching across her lawn towards the veranda. He was slightly out of breath from the walk, and she could see that he was sweating profusely. He definitely wasn’t used to
country living
, as her mother would say.

Annie left Marie on the veranda and met the man halfway. “Oh, boy! I don’t think I’ve walked this much in years,” he confessed, catching his breath. “Just went up to the barn,” he explained, “talked to Rory and your boy. That’s a good looking little dog they found,” he added, nodding his head for emphasis. “I asked Rory about the fishing in these parts,” he continued. “He said I might be able to get a fishing pole and a temporary fishing license in town, is that right?”

Annie nodded. “Actually, I probably have a pole you can borrow out in the shed. And you don’t need a fishing license to fish in my pond since it’s on private property.”

“You mean there are fish in the pond?” Frank looked a little sceptical. “I didn’t see any when I looked down by the deck there.”

“Oh, yes, there are a ton of fish in there. It’s a fully stocked pond and I’ve caught many fish myself in there,” she added. “But you really don’t want to fish by the deck. All the big fish are around on the other side of the pond. You have to go around and through the woods to get to my favorite spot. Or, you could take our little boat. It’s just a two-seater, but it’s perfect for rowing out and drowning a few worms,” she added, happy for an explanation about what the man had been doing down on the deck earlier.

“Do you think I could borrow that fishing rod tomorrow? I’d love to do a bit of fishing, and I’m afraid that Doris is going to have me looking at houses soon if I don’t find some ways to keep out of her hair,” he laughed.

Annie felt in her pocket for her keys. “Here, let me go check the shed and make sure those fishing rods are in there. If they are, I can have Rory show you the spot where we like to fish and you can head up there first thing in the morning, before it gets too hot.”

She led the man over to the small, prefabricated shed behind the barn. She unlocked the door, stowing the lock in her back pocket while she dug through gardening tools and an assortment of outdoor clutter that had accumulated over the summer. A bag of charcoal and a container of lighter fluid sat in one corner of the shed, reminding her that she really ought to fire up the grill at least once while her guests were at the house. Summer wouldn’t last forever, so she might as well make the most of her grill.

“Ah, here they are,” she said, at last, pulling a bucket of fishing rods out of a far corner. Frank’s eyes lit up at the bundle of rods and reels.

“You must really love your fishing,” he commented. “There must be a dozen fishing rods in there.”

Annie laughed. “No, only about nine or ten. Some of these were my father’s,” she explained. “And a couple are my mom’s and Devon’s. This one,” she said, pulling a teal-colored rod from the bunch, “is mine. I don’t use it often enough,” she lamented, “which is a shame because, well, I have all this in my backyard.” She selected a rod for Frank and handed it to him. It was burgundy and silver, well-worn and much-used. “That one was one of Dad’s. He would have loved this place,” she said, a sad smile on her lips.