Green with Envy Page 3

  “Look how different the handwriting is from one journal to the other.”

  “That makes sense,” Eliza replied. “She probably wrote that as a young woman. She wrote this when she was old.”

  I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop my mind whirling. I pawed through the box as fast as I could. “Here. Look. Here’s the book right before this one. You can even see where her writing starts to change.”

  Eliza frowned. “That’s weird.”

  “Listen to this. ‘Someone is after me. I have to figure it out before they get me. I’m surrounded by hostile forces on all sides.’”

  Eliza stared up at me with eyes as big as saucers. “What was wrong with her? Did she lose it at the end?”

  “She couldn’t run the inn if she had. No one said anything about her losing her marbles. What if she was right? What if someone really was after her? What if….” I couldn’t form the words.

  Eliza shut her mouth with a click. “Don’t say it, girl. Don’t even think it.”

  “I have to,” I whispered. “What if her death wasn’t an accident or a random cardiac arrest? What if someone did something to her?”

  Chapter 4

  I took the lid off one of the decoration boxes and lifted out a large wreath and several bead garlands. I moved around the inn and hung the wreath and some other bright baubles around the rooms.

  In the middle of hanging the wreath over the library fireplace, Nathaniel strutted in. I took the opportunity to hail him. “Oh, Nathaniel! I could really use your help cutting a Christmas tree. Where do you think we ought to set it up? Do you think we ought to build some kind of stand for the base so it doesn’t fall over? And I’ll need some sprigs of holly picked from the garden.”

  He glared at me, and when I turned around to look at him, he stormed out of the room. “I don’t have any tree picked out. This is the first I’ve heard about a tree, and I won’t build a base, either. That’s Levi’s job.”

  I called after him, “Well, could you at least give me a hand here?”

  Vacuous silence answered me. I kept working as best I could. I set out the Nativity scene on the hall table by the front desk. I was hanging bright red ribbon around the lip of the desk when Camille blew through the kitchen doors. She took one look at what I was doing and sniffed before she walked away.

  It was time to hang the garland, but I couldn’t decide whether to string it over the bannister or from the ceiling. I made up my mind the bannister would cause too many problems. One of the guests could get tangled up in it. They could trip down the stairs and sue me for every penny I had—which was none.

  Now that I made that decision, I had to figure out where to hang the thing. I decided to string it from the chandelier in the dining room. That would make it look grand when we reopened the dining room as a restaurant.

  I couldn’t reach the chandelier, though, so the next project was getting a ladder out of the shed. I didn’t see Levi anywhere, or I would have asked him to help me. This staff I had was about the most unhelpful group of people I ever met.

  I set up the ladder under the chandelier and took hold of the garland. I lugged it up the steps, but when I tried to loop it over one of the chandelier’s arms, the fixture rocked on its chain. Plaster dust drifted into my eyes. I spent the next few minutes coughing and blinking until I could see again.

  A low chuckle touched my ear. I looked toward the sound to see Levi standing in the doorway. He smirked and shook his head. “You’re as high as a kite, hanging it up there.”

  My temper flared. “Well, if you or any of the other staff would help me, I could have had it done by now.”

  “Oh, you’re doing just fine on your own. I wouldn’t want to rob you of the fun.”

  I bared my teeth at him. I could have kicked him in the head if he would only have stood a few steps closer. He started to turn away with another wry chuckle when I blurted out, “Wait a minute.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “What is it now? Don’t expect me to help you with this. I don’t do interior design.”

  I took another step up the ladder. “I wouldn’t presume to ask your help with anything. I know that would be a waste of time.”

  The smile evaporated off his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I just want to ask you about Beatrice.”

  “I told you I don’t know anything about her.”

  “You’re the only one who will tell me anything,” I replied. “Something doesn’t sit right with me about her death. Maybe you’ve seen or heard something since you’ve been here that could shed some light on the situation.”

  He stared up at me with those piercing gray eyes of his, and he wasn’t laughing now. “What do you want to know?”

  The garland hung forgotten in my hand. “I found some journals of hers in the attic. Her handwriting changed in the months before her death, and she was in fear of her life. She got paranoid and saw enemies everywhere.”

  He shrugged, but he never took his eyes off me. “Sounds like she had a small stroke or something. That can happen to old people.”

  Now I knew he was holding something back. “That’s what I thought, but last night, someone left a threatening note next to my bed. They told me to leave and go back where I came from if I knew what was good for me. What do you make of that?”

  His mouth smiled, but the rest of him went hard and cold and still. I never saw anybody change so fast. “It sounds like you make something of it.”

  I hung my head and sighed. I started to lose hope in this whole project. How was I ever going to get through to these people?

  I looped the garland on the ladder and came down to stand in front of him. “Listen, if you don’t think it was anything, just come right out and say so.”

  He softened, and this time, he smiled for real. “I don’t think it was anything, and you shouldn’t, either. You’re adjusting to a new place and new people. That’s all.”

  I studied him. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure.” He headed for the door, but at the last second, he paused and look back. He scrutinized me with his head on one side. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it with a shake of his head. He nodded toward the garland. “Do yourself a favor and put that thing on the bannister. You’ll fall and break your neck doing it that way.” He strode out of the inn before I could ask him what he was about to say.

  I sank into the nearest chair. This day was ranking up there with the biggest disasters of my life, right behind the Great Tim Disaster. Okay, there, I thought his name. A day like today made me sort of wish I still had Tim around. He had a way of making everything look easy—right up until the day he threw our five-year relationship in the crapper.

  I would have liked to throw this day in the crapper, too. I would have like to throw the whole Barrell Inn in the crapper, but I was here and I sure as blazes wouldn’t back down.

  Levi was about to say something. He was about to tell me something about Beatrice and her paranoia and her handwriting changing and somebody threatening me to leave town. I might not be the greatest detective alive on the planet, but I’m a decent judge of people. He was about to say something, and he stopped himself. What was it? What did he know?

  I couldn’t face taking down the garland I just spent all morning hanging up, so I left the ladder where it was and headed back to my quarters for a lunch break. Maybe a little R and R would put this whole Christmas decorating in a new light.

  Levi might have been wrong about Beatrice, but he was right about one thing. That garland belonged on the bannister. Hanging it from the chandelier was much more difficult and dangerous, and getting sued wouldn’t be half as bad as winding up in traction.

  I shut my door on the world and settle down on the couch with a ham sandwich pilfered from Camille’s cooler. That was one advantage this place had over any other. I could sit in my own living room and gaze out over the lake. That blue against the sky surrounded by hundreds of miles of trees rested the eyes
and soothed the weary soul.

  There was only one thing missing from this scene to make it the most relaxing environment in the world: a good book to read. While I sat there, my eye fell on Beatrice’s journal lying on the coffee table. A dozen questions reared their heads in my mind.

  What if…? I mean, what if…. What if something happened to her? What if she didn’t die of cardiac arrest? Or better yet, what if something caused her to die of cardiac arrest—something other than too much fatty food?

  My hand drifted over, and I picked up the book. Even if nothing happened to her, those journals were the only way I was going to find out anything about my aunt. I flipped the pages and read.

  Another horrible day with the tax auditor. I never knew taxes could be such a nightmare, and this guy certainly seems to take great delight in making it as nightmarish as possible. I would be utterly lost if I didn’t have Glenda to talk to at the end of the day. She’s the best friend I ever made in my life. I wonder if I can make it up to her somehow. I won’t say anything to her about it. I’ll just keep my eyes open for a chance to help her.

  So, Aunt Beatrice had at least one friend around this town. She wasn’t a complete hermit the way Levi thought. I wondered who this Glenda character was.

  I read on and found the answer. Glenda Garner is the best! I would shout it from the rooftops if anyone was around to hear. I found a way to pay her back for all the support she gave me during the tax audit. She’s going to set up a greenhouse on the property to raise flowers for her florist shop. That should help her out, and it means I’ll have her around a lot more. This is going to be a wonderful situation for everyone involved.

  So, Glenda Garner was the florist in town, and that was her greenhouse behind the inn. Maybe Glenda could tell me something about Beatrice no one else knew. Her best friend might have some insight into her death.

  I turned the next page and skimmed to the end of the tax auditor incident. My eyes stuck to the page until I couldn’t pry them away.

  Conrad Mills is the biggest, strongest, most handsome man I’ve ever met. He took me out to dinner at the DoubleDown Diner last night, and he kissed me when he dropped me off at my front door. My heart still flutters when I think about his powerful shoulders and his misty gray eyes. I could kiss him forever and never get tired of it.

  Is it possible we could have a future together? He’ll finish his training as sheriff in six months. We could get married and…. What am I thinking that for? He hasn’t mentioned marriage and neither have I, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve never cared for anyone this much before. I can’t stop my mind spinning through all the possibilities.

  Conrad Mills—Sheriff? Beatrice fell in love with the sheriff. Oh, my God! She never married him, though. They must have fallen out. All the pieces started falling into place. I got another lead on the mystery of her last days before she died.

  I scanned forward in the journal, but I couldn’t find another mention of Sheriff Conrad. They must have broken off their romance, and she never mentioned him again. That name niggled at my mind, though. Conrad Mills. I’ve heard that name before, but where?

  I stared out at the lake for a minute before I remembered. I fished out my file folder and turned to Beatrice’s will. Yes, there it was. She wrote Sheriff Conrad Mills into her will. She left him an amethyst broach. The court papers even included a sketch of it.

  I studied the color drawing. It wasn’t anything a man would wear. It was a woman’s accessory. This mention in Beatrice’s will could mean only one thing. He must have given it to her. She cared for him so much, she kept it all these years to remember him, even after they stopped seeing each other. She cared for him so much that, when she died, she sent it back to him so he would keep remembering her.

  Too bad they never patched up their misunderstanding. They could have been great together. She never married or dated again. Maybe he was the love of her life. What about him? Had he been carrying a torch for Beatrice for the last thirty years?

  Chapter 5

  I was on a mission to discover my aunt’s secrets, whether they wanted to be discovered or not. I threw open all the doors and windows around the inn. I let the sun and light shine into its shadows. I wouldn’t let any of these festering old mysteries lie asleep anymore.

  Right after breakfast, I took a deep breath and walked outside. It was still bitter cold, but the bright sunshine made today the perfect day to work in the greenhouse.

  I found the door propped open and comfortable warmth throbbing among the plants. I strolled down the center aisle and examined all the flowering specimens on both sides. Halfway down, I heard humming.

  I headed for the sound and came across a gray-haired woman pruning a rosebush in a pot. I couldn’t help but smile at her. “What an amazing collection you have here! You must have really worked hard over the years to develop all these flowers. No wonder your shop in town does so well.”

  The woman rounded on me with flashing eyes. “What’s it to you?”

  I held out my hand. “I’m Allie Garrett. I’m Beatrice’s grandniece, and you must be her friend Glenda. I inherited the inn, but I’ve studied horticulture all my life. I can appreciate the work you put into this.”

  “Don’t think you’re gonna throw me out of here,” Glenda snapped. “I had a legal contract with Beatrice, and you can’t change it. I’ll slap you with the most expensive law suit you ever saw if you raise a finger against me.”

  “I wasn’t planning on throwing you out,” I replied. “I understand Beatrice let you build this greenhouse after you helped her get through a stressful tax audit. I’m sure you two were the best of friends. I don’t want to interfere with your business. I’m grateful my aunt had someone like you in her life.”

  “She didn’t let me do anything,” Glenda barked, “and Beatrice couldn’t get through a tax audit if her life depended on it. I had to threaten her to get her to let me put this greenhouse up. She was too short-sighted to see the benefit of it.”

  My hair stood on end. “Wasn’t she your friend?”

  “My friend? Huh! A fine friend she turned out to be. She tried to take this greenhouse back from me so she could grow herbs for her supposed restaurant. I always knew she would stab me in the back one day. That’s why I made her put my rental on paper. I had it authorized by my own lawyers so I could throw it back in her face someday, and that’s exactly what I did. I sent her running for that underground hole she called her residence. She never lifted a finger against me again. I can tell you that much.”

  My mind spun. So, Glenda and Beatrice weren’t friends after all, or maybe they started out as friends and ended up as enemies when their signals crossed. How many times had that happened?

  I obviously wasn’t getting anywhere here. Just as I turned to leave, Glenda muttered under her breath, “If that wasn’t enough, she tried to steal my boyfriend.”

  I whirled around fast. “Your boyfriend?”

  Glenda snipped off long-stemmed rosebuds and murmured to herself like I wasn’t there. “She always had her eye on Conrad Mills. She never left him alone, even after she knew we were dating. She did everything she could to steal him from me. She would have succeeded, too, if he wasn’t such a good-hearted man. People say nasty things about him around this town, but he’s loyal. A woman can’t ask for any better than that, but Beatrice Garrett never knew anything about loyalty. It was her, her, her, all the time.”

  I had to get out of here. I made for the door and disappeared. So, Conrad started seeing Glenda after he split up with Beatrice. Beatrice lost Conrad, and that loss probably ruined her friendship with Glenda, too.

  What a tragic life my aunt must have led, without love, without friends, without any social contact outside the small staff she hired to help her run the inn. What could her life have been if things worked out differently?

  There was only one place I’d find those answers. I got my car and tootled into town. I parked in front of the NightHawks bar and headed for
the police station. My heartbeat quickened. I was about to meet the love of Beatrice Garrett’s life.

  I walked in the door, but I couldn’t believe my eyes. A short, squat man with graying hair sat behind the desk. His milky eyes peered up at me when I walked in. “Sheriff Mills?”

  He showed no sign of having heard. Could this really be the man Beatrice dreamed about all her life? What would she say if she could see him now? Maybe she did see him like this. She only died six months ago, so she must have seen him old and gray and heavy. Maybe she’d watched him age. Maybe she loved him and cared about him, right up until the end.

  He stared straight through me, but he started out of his chair when a shout echoed down from the jail to our ears. He jumped up and bolted away. “Not again!”

  He barreled down a concrete passageway leading to my right. He stumbled past me while his chubby hands fumbled with the wad of keys jangling at his belt. Insatiable curiosity spurred me to follow him to the last of three cells lined up along the passageway.

  When he stopped to insert his key into the echoing lock, I burst out laughing at what I saw. A lanky young man stood inside the cell. A sheriff’s star pinned to his uniform shirt, right next to the name tag that read: Deputy Sheriff Rufus Leonard. A desk piled with papers sat in the center. Even a wire connected a telephone to the socket outside the cell.

  “What did you have to go and do that for?” Sheriff Mills thundered. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

  The young deputy shifted from one foot to the other. He kept glancing over at me. “It was an accident.”

  “That’s what you always say. Keep the door open from now on. I don’t want to spend all my time rushing down here to let you out cuz you’re too stupid to stop locking yourself in.” Sheriff Mills sighed in my direction. “He’s not the brightest candle on the Christmas tree, you know.”

  I followed him back to his own desk. He slumped into it and let out a shaky breath. That must have been the most exercise he’d gotten in a long time. “Now then, young lady. What can I do for you? Don’t tell me you ran out of gas on I-40.”