Mission Inn-possible 04 - Raspberry Revenge Read online

  “The latter is much more alarming than the former. But you two didn’t find anything last night?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then you shouldn’t worry about it. What will be, will be.”

  “I never liked that saying,” I said.

  “Neither did I.” Gamma laughed, a soft tinkling like chimes in the wind. “But it suits the situation. There’s nothing you can do about this, and worrying will get you nowhere.”

  The conversation petered off as we drove down Gossip’s Main Street. The town was gorgeous, with its center aisle, wrought iron lampposts, and cutesy glass front stores. People were still out in the streets, some of them popping into the local pizzeria to grab a pie before everything closed for the night.

  Before I could blink twice, we were out on a country road, then entering a field through open wooden gates, and joining the long line of cars idling to wait their turn for tickets.

  “Where are we meeting Lauren?” I asked.

  “She said she’d catch up with us at the concession stand,” Gamma replied, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the distant screen. “Oh, do hurry up.” She nudged the horn and gave a short honk. “It’s due to start soon.”

  The line moved along swiftly, and we bought our tickets from Vinny, a teenaged boy who’d flitted between jobs over the summer vacation. Finally, we found a suitable spot to park, just as the movie was about to start.

  “I don’t see her,” I said, getting out of the car.

  “Let’s head to the concession stand.” Gamma led the way, and we arrived at yet another long queue—this time of people. The scent of buttery popcorn was on the air, and there was an atmosphere of palpable excitement. Gossip was quiet most of the time.

  If you didn’t count the murders.

  At the front of the line, a woman with poker straight hair that fell to her shoulders greeted us. She wore an apron that had seen better days. “Welcome to the theater,” she said, in bored tones. “Pick your poison.”

  “Barb!” Gamma cooed. “It’s been ages.”

  “Georgina? Well, fancy seeing you here.”

  “I thought you moved to California,” Gamma said, leaning an elbow on the table and resting her chin in her palm. “Last I heard you’d run off with some too-young-for-you hunk.”

  Barb laughed, a witch’s cackle, and pawed the air. “Oh you. You know I wouldn’t do a thing like that. I prefer my life boring, thank you very much.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “This theater business is too much excitement for me. Glad I moved off the farm before it all happened.”

  “Right, right,” Gamma said. “I forgot you lived out here. Where did you move to?”

  I’d already mentally checked out of the conversation. I’d never been big on small talk, and that uncomfortable, neck-prickling feeling from before was back. I took to scanning the crowd and waved at Lauren approaching with her hubby, Jason. He was a head shorter than her, balding, but with an open, kind face.

  “There you are,” Gamma said, clapping her hands. “We thought we’d never catch up with you.”

  “Welcome to the theater,” Barb intoned. “Pick your poison.”

  A few of the people in the line behind us grumbled about Lauren and Jason pushing in, but a sharp look from Gamma silenced them. Nobody in Gossip knew that my grandmother had single-handedly dismantled cartels, but her mean-eyed glare still worked a treat.

  “Be right back,” I said. “Ladies’ room?”

  “Over there.” Barb gestured vaguely to the right.

  I squeezed out of the line and walked off, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jeans. Was it just that I’d been in Gossip for so long that I’d grown this paranoid? That we’d heard nothing about my ex-husband’s whereabouts in all that time grated on me.

  If they’d just let me take control of the investigation, I’d find him, and I’d see him locked away for good.

  I reached the two brick buildings that were the men and women’s bathrooms, shaking my head at myself.

  A figure rounded the corner in the settling dusk and stopped dead at the sight of me. “Oh, hello.” It was Mr. Shone, his glasses skew on his face. “Sorry, but the lights are out in the bathrooms. No idea what’s going on. I just got the complaint.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. “I’ve got my phone.” I reached into my back pocket and brought it out. I switched on the flashlight app and directed it off to one side, so we were illuminated but not blinded. “Say, Mr. Shone, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about what happened last night.”

  “Right. Everyone’s interested. I don’t blame them. I’ve never had an experience like that in my life. You could say I’m a skeptic, even, but I can’t lie about what I saw.”

  “What did you see?” I asked. “What did the, uh, apparition look like?”

  “Pale,” he said, waving a hand. “And sort of hunched over. He made a sniffling noise.”

  “He?”

  “Yes. It was definitely a male figure.”

  “What happened when you screamed?” I asked.

  “Well, I, uh, well.”

  “What?”

  “I closed my eyes, so I don’t exactly know what happened. Just that when I opened them again, he was gone,” Mr. Shone said. “Anyway, it was just another life experience. I think that—” Vaughan cut off and his eyes went round as two cookies.

  “Mr. Shone? What is it? What’s wrong?” I looked over my shoulder, directing my phone toward the darkness. But there was no one there.

  A dull thump sounded behind me.

  I turned, and a chill chased down my spine.

  Mr. Shone lay on his front, unmoving, a feathered dart glinting stuck in his neck.

  4

  “A feathered dart?” Gamma stood to one side of the bathrooms, her arms folded, and her head tilted. She surveyed the scene through narrowed eyes. “That’s strange.”

  “What a way to go,” I agreed. “One second he was telling me about the ghost and the next…”

  Mr. Vaughan Shone was dead. The coroner had removed his body under a sheet, and Detective Crowley had already had the bathrooms cordoned off. He’d insisted I stay for questioning. Naturally, I’d submitted myself for a weapons search and the police had found nothing.

  “Who would do this?” I asked. “I didn’t even know the guy, so I can’t make a judgment here.” We had plenty of time to kill while we waited for Crowley.

  The police had closed the gates and set about questioning everyone. Knowing our luck, we’d be here all night. Then again, I preferred standing around in a field on a summer’s night to what had happened to Mr. Shone.

  Gamma took a deep breath. “I don’t know too much about the man. He’s only recently moved back to Gossip to start this business venture, from what I heard. But the grapevine says that his wife passed away two years ago and that he’s been distraught ever since.”

  “So, he hasn’t bought a house in Gossip yet? But he’s had time to open a business?” I asked. “That’s weird.”

  “Yes, I have to agree. But I believe he had a business partner. I can ask—”

  “This is so dumb!” The cry came from a nearby car. Two police officers stood next to a gray Lexus, their arms folded, a young woman between them.

  “Stephanie Shone,” I whispered.

  The blonde had her fists on her hips and wore an almost comical pout. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t see why I should. You got questions? I can answer them here.”

  “Ma’am—” I couldn’t quite make out what the burlier police officer on the right was saying, but his expression wasn’t patient.

  “No! This is my father’s theater. His property. That means it’s my property too, and unless you have a warrant for my arrest, you can dream on. I’m not going anywhere with you.” She spat on the ground, actually spat, then marched off in the direction of the concession stand.

  The field was well lit by the police cars’ strobing lights, and Stephanie’s frog-mar
ch was watched and whispered about by the people waiting to have their statements taken. If the daughter of the victim refused to talk to the police, well, that didn’t exactly clear her name now, did it?

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “Now, Charlotte, I doubt we should get involved. We have much more important things to worry about. Like that man who’s been missing for a while.”

  “So, you’re worried too?” My grandmother had kept her thoughts about my ex under wraps.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say worried. But one must remain vigilant.”

  “Good evening, ladies.” Detective Crowley had arrived.

  Gamma started and clutched her throat. “Good heavens! You scared me.”

  “So much for vigilance, eh?”

  Gamma pursed her lips at me. “Must you be cheeky? It’s not a becoming character trait.”

  “I learned it from you.”

  “Fair point.”

  Detective Crowley, tall, handsome, and dark-eyed, cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt this, uh, whatever it is, but I need to talk to Miss Smith about what happened here tonight.”

  For a millisecond, I blanked out. Smith? Oh, that’s me! I’d been in Gossip for months, but hanging out with my grandmother made it easy to forget my cover and remember the Mission side of my personality.

  “Of course,” I said, sweetly. “No problem.”

  “This way, please.”

  “Be right back, Georgina.” I waved at my Gamma, but she’d returned to scanning the field and the cars, searching for the murderer, as if they’d emerge with their blow dart gun, waving a white flag.

  Then again, if anyone could scare a criminal into offering information, it was my grandmother. The most decorated spy in NSIB history.

  Crowley stopped a short distance from her—but not far enough away since Gamma had incredible hearing—and took up an easy stance, his pen in one hand, notepad in the other. “Sorry you had to witness what you did tonight, Miss Smith,” he said. “But I’m going to have to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

  If I don’t mind? Since when had Detective Crowley gone soft? The first time we’d met, he’d snapped at me. “Sure. I can take you through what happened.” I did, swiftly, pausing only to catch a breath.

  “And do you have any idea where that feathered dart might have come from? The direction?”

  “I didn’t see it happen,” I replied, “but it was in the back of his neck, so my assumption is that he was hit from somewhere over there.” I pointed, my curiosity getting the better of me. What would the police find when they checked the trees? The grass was dry. No muddy footprints then. But there might be something. The killer had to have made off on foot or in a car—the cops hadn’t arrived in time to stop everyone from leaving.

  But those who had… they’d surely bought tickets and could be tracked down with— “Miss Smith?”

  “Oh sorry,” I said, blinking. “It’s been a weird night.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me? I understand Mr. Shone was staying at the Gossip Inn. You work there.”

  “Right. Yeah. No. I mean, there was the ghost.”

  “The what now?”

  I laughed. “It’s nothing,” I replied. “Nothing important.” The last thing we needed was the cops crawling all over the inn looking for our resident ghost. Or sleeper agent, depending on how I looked at it.

  “Right. If you hear anything else, think of anything else, you call me.” He handed over a small, white card, and his fingertips brushed mine, lingering too long.

  “Yeah. Sure.” I walked off, crumpling up the card. I’d toss it into the trash the first chance I got.

  5

  The following morning…

  Nothing dispersed the blues or a case of anxiety like time spent in my grandmother’s kitten foster center. It was impossible to remain tense with the happy kittens purring, meowing, and playing. Especially since most of those kittens had been abandoned, found, then nursed back to health.

  There was something precious about that. The kittens played in the sunny rooms in what had once been the broken-down section of the inn. They varied in age, size and coloring, but every one of them was healthy.

  “Hello there, Sunlight,” I said, stroking the furry orange back of one of our newer arrivals. Whenever I came to visit the center over the past week, he’d been the first to offer me a greeting meow. “How are you this morning?”

  “He’s a little troublemaker, that’s how he is.” Kara, one of our kitten helpers, grinned at me, but it soon turned into a yawn. “Sorry. I’ve got a double shift today. Pretty tired.”

  “A double shift?”

  “Georgina can’t find anyone to take the night shifts apart from me,” Kara said, shrugging. “It’s not like working here pays that well.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not her fault,” Kara replied, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial hush. “She’s paying for everything out of pocket, and this isn’t exactly a great business model. She lets everyone adopt the cats for free. And the people who do want to adopt cats have to wait for an interview first and for Georgina and a representative from the Gossip Cat Rescue Shelter to ensure their home is right for a kitten.” Kara checked over her shoulder. “Much easier to go to a pet store or the cattery and buy a kitten.”

  Almost on cue, the door opened, and Gamma entered, humming under her breath. She wore a neat cotton blouse, a pair of slacks and tennis shoes, accenting the outfit with a tennis bracelet and a pair of golden earrings.

  “There you are, Charlotte. Lauren asked after you. She mentioned something about a visit to the Shroom Shed?”

  “Right. She wanted mushrooms for lasagna this afternoon.” I lifted the special key to the shed. “I was checking on the kittens before I went.”

  Sunlight purred and rubbed against my leg.

  Kara split off from us and made for the room that held the youngest kittens—those needed an incubator and regular feedings at all hours of the day and night.

  I picked up Sunlight and held him to my chest, stroking his tufty orange ears. “Kara mentioned you’re struggling to find helpers.”

  “Did she now?” Gamma asked.

  I wasn’t about to throw Kara under the bus, but the thought that my grandmother might struggle financially was a worry. I’d been concerned when she’d taken on fostering kittens—Gamma got bored easily, and challenging tasks were her favorite thing to do.

  “Oh, Charlotte, relax,” Gamma said. “Keep worrying like that and you’re liable to give yourself wrinkles before your time.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You’re worrying about the center, but I can assure you everything is fine.”

  “Fine, but not great,” I said. “Why can’t you find anyone to fill the late-night shifts?”

  “Because it’s a tiring and tough job to do.” Gamma sighed. “And because the pay isn’t high enough.”

  “There’s got to be a solution,” I said, stroking Sunlight. A few months ago, when I’d first arrived in Gossip, I would’ve immediately suggested she close the center, but now, well, I couldn’t imagine life without it.

  Are you serious? What’s going to happen when this is all over and you have to leave?

  “Maybe if we held an event.” I wriggled my nose. “Like a charity event to drum up profits. Remember when we had the adoption event? Like that, except to raise funds. We could sell Lauren’s cupcakes, if she’d be willing to bake them for us.”

  “Us?” Gamma laughed and squeezed my arm. “Charlotte, it seems you’ve become attached.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” I said, gruffly. “I just don’t want to leave you in the lurch.”

  “Assuming you’ll be able to leave soon.”

  Gamma was right. There was no good news. No news of any kind at this point. Apart from the whole ghost thing. “Have you heard anything about Mr. Shone?” I asked, opting for a change in subject. Gamma would e
ither take or leave my idea for a fund-raising event. There was no sense in pushing a woman who was as stubborn as… well, me.

  “Have I ever,” Gamma said. “The guests can barely stop talking about it. Everyone’s convinced that it scared him to death.”

  “Scared to death? But the dart—”

  Gamma rolled her eyes. “It’s Gossip, Charlotte. People love to make up stories. I’m surprised the newspaper hasn’t run a full-page expose on the inn, claiming we’re hiding ghosts in the walls and using them to scare our guests to death.”

  It was a joke, but a possibility, knowing the editor at The Gossip Rag.

  “Speaking of the ghost—”

  “Get out here and face me, you horrible wretch!” The shriek came from the inn’s hallway next to the door. The wood barely muffled it.

  “What on earth?” Gamma marched toward the exit, and I was hot on her heels.

  We crashed through into the hall and found Jessie Belle-Blue, my grandmother’s enemy, standing near the kitchen, in full-blown argument with Lauren.

  “You can’t be in here,” the pregnant chef said, flicking her dishcloth at the shorter woman.

  Short but dynamite, Jessie Belle-Blue had sharp eyes, an even sharper nose, and short, dark hair cut into a severe bob around her pudgy cheeks. She’d draped herself in a long, black pashmina today, completing the ‘witchy’ effect she probably hadn’t been going for.

  Gamma would never say the woman’s name out loud, not with little gnashing of teeth and eye-rolling, and when it was said, it was always the full name. ‘Jessie’ was too friendly.

  And Ms. Belle-Blue was about as friendly as an alligator with a sore stomach.

  “Belle-Blue!” Gamma snapped. “You’re banished.”

  “Banished? Who died and made you the Queen?” Jessie didn’t miss a beat. She abandoned her haranguing of our innocent chef and advanced on Gamma. The poor woman had no idea who Georgina was.

  She was lucky my grandmother was good at maintaining her cover.

  The last time someone had messed with Georgina Mission, they’d woken up on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico with no recollection how they’d gotten there. That was the rumor around NSIB HQ, anyway.