CHAPTER 22
“ S o who’s the killer?” Leo winks my way as we sit in the grand room of the Country Cottage Inn.
Jasper and Emmie are with us as the four of us sit on plush velvet sofas near the crackling fire while sipping on hot apple cider and noshing on Emmie’s pumpkin cheesecake. In other words, the perfect fall day just morphed into the perfect fall night.
Thanksgiving is just two days away, and we’ve already covered the fact we’re looking forward to dinner, dessert, and leftovers, along with taking bets on who will beat who at the Turkey Trot.
We touched on the parade that will take place afterward, too, and the fact my mother and her cohorts will be featured on a float entitled Seniors Can Soar. And seeing that Georgie will be joining them—I can’t see a single thing going wrong, or rather, right . We share a good laugh at that one, although a cautionary laugh. We don’t need a crystal ball to tell us that something will inevitably go askew.
The grand room sits just off the reception counter and is the largest yet coziest room in all the inn. With its dark mahogany walls, dark wood floors, lots of rocking chairs, recliners, and even several tables taking up space, not to mention the stone fireplace that vaults two stories high, the room feels spacious enough to host all of Cider Cove.
Fall leaf garland skirts around the fireplace, and it’s intertwined with orange twinkle lights to give it an extra dash of autumn magic. There’s a giant wreath comprised solely of pine cones that sits above the mantle, and both the scent of cinnamon and the sound of laughter permeate the air. The last two of which would be a direct result of Georgie and my mother.
Just a few short hours ago, I left Memories and More and I’ve been dying to tell Jasper all about it. And since Emmie and Leo were here at the inn, we invited them to join us. But as it stands, we’re not the only ones in the grand room.
Georgie and my mother are seated on the other side of the room, along with about thirty men and women from the senior center as they partake in a craft project led by my favorite two old broads.
These monthly crafts sessions have been something my mother has spearheaded in conjunction with the senior center. The center provides a budget for the crafts, and they also shuttle their residents here to the inn so they can have a change of scenery. And seeing that Georgie assists my mother in commandeering the effort, the fine residents of the senior center experience a change of sanity as well.
“I don’t know who the killer is,” I say to Leo in answer to his question. “But I have a good idea who I’d like to kick in the cookies.”
“ What? ” Emmie squawks above the noise as both Leo and Jasper howl with laughter.
“Have a rough day, honey?” Jasper teases as he lifts his mug my way.
I haven’t told him about Beau yet. The only thing I’ve told him so far is that I took our fur friends for a walk down Main Street—and that I might be getting close to the killer. Leo was amused, thus his killer question.
“Bizzy?” Emmie shakes her head. “What happened? Is the plumbing on the fritz in this place again?”
“No, thankfully,” I say.
A few months back, we had to close down the inn and redo all the pipes. It cost me a fortune, but on the bright side, I got to take a cruise to Hawaii with my family and friends while it was being repaired.
“I spoke with Beau Betty,” I practically whisper his name, but judging by the way Jasper’s eyes just widened with horror, he heard me perfectly.
Fish runs over and hops right into my lap. Sherlock wants to take that dog gang of his to the beach. I told him it was too cold and dark.
“I agree,” I say. “Why don’t you tell them to stay inside. There’s a bag of pumpkin dog treats under the reception counter. They can have that. And they just so happen to be the kind you like as well.” No sooner do I get the words out than Fish bullets out of the room and I shrug over at Jasper. “She really does like those new pumpkin treats we got for them.”
Emmie coos, “This is exactly why you’re going to be a great mom.”
“Not before you are,” I counter. “How did your appointment go this afternoon?”
“The baby is doing great,” Leo answers like the proud papa he is. “He or she measures at about seven inches and weighs about seven ounces, too.” That grin of his eats up half his face. “And we don’t need another seven to know this baby is lucky.”
“We’re the lucky ones,” Emmie is quick to say, and both Jasper and I coo at the thought.
“Glad to hear he or she is healthy.” Jasper sighs. “So what names are you tossing around? FYI, Jasper works for both boys and girls—just throwing it out there.”
Emmie laughs. “I said the same thing.”
Leo shoots her a look before frowning playfully at Jasper. “Are you going to name your kid Leo?”
“Maybe.” Jasper laughs. “But odds are better that we’ll name them Jasper. The world seems to be running in a Jasper deficit at the moment. We’re going to work hard to rectify that.”
We share another boisterous laugh at the thought. And to be honest, I hadn’t even thought of naming our future child Jasper. But I’ve got to give it to him, it does work well for a boy or a girl. Bizzy? Not so much.
“We can’t decide on names,” Emmie says. “We like everything and nothing. I blame my raging hormones.” She nods my way. “Speaking of which, I feel like kicking the world in the cookies at least twice a day.”
“Well, I hardly think my hormones had anything to do with my feelings toward Beau. The guy is a horror show of a husband.” I fill them in on everything he said—both verbally and to himself. The fact he found himself in debt, the fact he was cheating on Blythe, and the fact he thinks he’ll be home free once this investigation is over.
Leo and Jasper exchange a sober glance.
“Beau Betty just skyrocketed up to the top of my suspect list,” Jasper says as he loses his gaze at the fire.
Leo nods. “He’s up there, all right.”
Emmie gives an incredulous huff. “Well, I suddenly want to kick the guy in the cookies, too, and maybe in the teeth for good measure.”
“What exactly did he say about Mr. Marino?” Jasper squints my way as if trying to make sense of it.
“That those stolen nights as Mr. and Mrs. Marino were sweeter than sugarplums—and that forbidden fruit always is.”
“Marino Hotel and Casino,” Leo tells Emmie. “It’s just outside Edison.”
“And”—Jasper’s chest rumbles with a false start of a laugh—“it’s a well-known fact that couples who want anonymity, check in as Mr. and Mrs. Marino.”
“In other words, it’s a cheater’s paradise,” I say and he nods.
“Who else are we looking at?” Leo asks.
“Magda Cooper, Beau’s first wife.” Jasper nods my way. “You want to fill them in on her dark thoughts?”
“She is not sorry that Blythe is gone,” I say with a sigh. “She also said something about life having a way of righting all the wrongs—even if on occasion she had to push it in the right direction. Then she wished me luck in catching the killer—and her next thought was, but you won’t .”
Leo and Emmie take a moment to look at one another.
“I did a little digging on the woman,” Jasper says. “She never remarried, took back her maiden name, and according to my trusted source, she wanted the deceased gone. The woman has lived for years fueled by pent-up anger and resentment toward Blythe for stealing her husband and destroying the family they built.”
“What trusted source?” I ask, a little surprised that Jasper hadn’t mentioned this before.
“Your mother.”
“My mother?” I give a short-lived laugh. “You interrogated my mother on behalf of a suspect?”
“I ran into my mother-in-law at the café.” He sheds a dimpled grin my way. “We had coffee and chitchatted about the case.”
“My mother.” I shoot him a look. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“So that’s it?” Emmie says. “Two suspects? Hey? What if Magda is Beau’s mistress? I mean, if your mom is right, and I have no doubt she is, it sounds like Magda was bent on revenge.”
Leo cocks his head. “So either Magda is having a genuine affair with Beau or she concocted a scheme to manipulate Beau into doing away with his current wife under the pretense they could be together again.”
“Good grief.” Emmie closes her eyes momentarily. “If there are only those two options, then I hope it’s the latter. The man doesn’t deserve any kind of happy ending.”
“No one gets a happy ending,” I say. “Blythe certainly doesn’t. And whoever the killer is, they’re about to get the ending they deserve.”
A wild whoop goes off to our right and we look over to see Georgie dancing in front of the crowd while taking off her scarf seductively.
“Who’s up for naked bingo?” she calls out and at least six seniors raise a hand, and three others ask her to speak a little louder because the batteries in their hearing aids are going out.
Mom waves her arms in protest. “Nobody is playing naked bingo!”
“Actually”—Emmie winces at Leo—“that sounds like fun.”
Leo hitches his head to the side as he gets up and helps Emmie to her feet. “The doctor did say you needed to stay active.” He nods our way. “Good night,” he says as he whisks her out of the room and both Cinnamon and Gatsby follow them out.
“Well?” Jasper’s lips curve with malevolent intent.
“But—” I lift a finger at the melee happening at the other end of the room. “What the heck,” I say, jumping to my feet and taking my husband by the hand. “Not my circus, not my senior monkeys.”
Jasper sails us out of the inn as if it were on fire, and, of course, our happy little menagerie beats us to the cottage by a landslide.
Jasper and I set the cottage on fire in the very best way.
Something else is burning, too—my desire to prove Magda Cooper wrong by way of catching a killer, even if that killer just so happens to be her.
I’m going to tie the killer up like a turkey and baste them with a nice, long prison term—no matter who they are.