Greed & Deadly Deceit Page 2

  I know it was a long shot, but it was nice to think that maybe we could have bought this land, too. I could have that vineyard we’ve been talking about, she said, looking at Rory, and we could build a few cozy little cabins for families to stay in.

  Annie’s dreams for Rosewood Place had grown substantially since the day she’d first laid eyes on it. Back then, her biggest hope was that the roof would keep out the rain and that guests wouldn’t be put off by the plantation’s murderous past. The steady flow of guests since they’d opened had allayed her fears tremendously, and now she was beginning to think that she had the potential to build something really special for her family in the beautiful old house.

  Did he have any next of kin? Rory asked. I mean, I guess I never thought of the guy as the family type, but if he had someone, they should be notified.

  Emmett agreed. Yeah, he has a brother over in Pickens, if he’s still alive. And Mr. LaRue had a son, but he left town quite a few years ago. Nobody’s heard from him since, so I have no clue if he’s even still alive. He had a drug problem, Emmett confided.

  "Sad situation. He was a talented kid--had a voice like an angel until puberty hit, used to sing at the Sunday school where my late wife, Marjorie, used to teach. LaRue’s wife died when the boy was still young and I reckon living with the man pushed the kid right over the edge. He got in with a bad crowd, started doing drugs, got

  busted for petty theft. When he turned sixteen he left town. Nobody’s heard from him since."

  Annie felt bad for LaRue’s son. Do you think there’s any way to find him now? I mean, maybe he’d want some sort of closure.

  Emmett thought about it for a moment. I can try running his details, see if we can find anything. Maybe the uncle knows something, maybe not. I’ll try, though. He shifted his weight and winced a little, then looked up at the sky.

  I hope that coroner gets here soon, he said, because it’s going to rain, and I hate supervising these investigations in the rain.

  Annie looked at the blue sky doubtfully. Uh, Chief, there aren’t any clouds in the sky. I think you’ve been around my mother for too long. She complains of her aches and pains on a near daily basis, yet she’s the only seventy-year-old in her Senior Salsa dance class.

  Emmett smiled. Your mother has moves, let me tell you. And it is going to rain. My old friend Arthur told me so.

  Annie looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Arthur who?

  Arthur Itis, he chuckled. My hip only ever aches when a storm’s coming, and right now it’s killing me. Y’all better head back up to the big house and I’ll call you if I need anything.

  Annie remembered the pie as she opened the door to the truck. May as well not let it go to waste, she said, poking a finger in and scooping out a tiny bit. She stuck her finger in her mouth and Rory reached for the pie, ready to do the same. Annie pulled it away teasingly. Emmett will enjoy this one, she told him and watched as his expression turned into one of disappointment.

  Don’t worry, she consoled him. Mama baked two. Annie then called out to Emmett, who was standing on the front porch talking to Hughes. She lifted the pie to show it to him, then pointed to the police car. After she placed the now-cooled pie on the driver’s seat, she turned to walk back to the truck. As she opened her door, a fat, warm raindrop fell on her arm.

  Well, I’ll be, she mused. The sky was still blue, but Emmett had been right--a storm was definitely on the horizon.

  3

  The Current Guests

  Bessie Mae Purdy watched the rain cascade down the window in the sitting room. Outside, the sun was still shining, but the pop-up rainstorm paid it no attention. She was taking advantage of a quiet morning at the bed and breakfast. Though there were guests at the inn, it wasn’t full, and the ones who were staying with them were quiet types.

  One was a man who’d checked in two days before and who’d made himself practically invisible during his stay thus far. His name was Bo Michaels and he had driven up from Nashville, or so he’d told Annie when he’d arrived. Apart from visiting the dining room for breakfast and dinner, he’d stayed in his room the entire time.

  The other guests were a mother and son who were set to check out later in the day. Bessie wouldn’t be sad to see them go. The mother had a terribly whiny voice and her child, whom Bessie had affectionately nicknamed Damian, like the child in that horror movie, was beginning to really get on her last nerve.

  They had only booked a room for two nights but wound up staying for three. This wasn’t a problem since the inn wasn’t fully booked, but the problem was the fact that the child was a spirited little monkey. He had spent the past two days chasing TigerLily, the inn’s cat, up and down the halls. The boy had knocked over and broken two glasses and one vase, plus he’d drawn all over the wainscoting in the upstairs hallway in permanent marker. Thank heavens for Magic Erasers, Bessie thought, though she would have gladly used one to magically erase those two guests from their home.

  At the moment, all was quiet in the old plantation house. Devon was in his room studying, Annie and Rory had ventured out to speak to that horrible Mr. LaRue, and Bessie had piled up in her favorite chair in the sitting room and opened up her favorite reading app on the tablet computer that Annie had given her. For nearly a year, Bessie had ignored the tablet, not really knowing how to use it. But since Devon had given her a crash course in downloading apps and using them, she’d picked up the little computer every chance she got.

  She wasn’t all that interested in the games that Devon pointed out to her on the tablet, though she did love those mystery games with logic problems and puzzles to solve. Her favorite app was the one for ebooks, and Devon had helped her load the device up with dozens of books by her favorite authors. Bessie found that she could just as easily devour her beloved murder mysteries on the little screen as she could in a paperback, so she kept it fully charged at all times in case the need to read overcame her.

  Today she was reading a Lilian Jackson Braun novel, her own contented kitty curled up by her feet. TigerLily knew well enough that if she stayed near Bessie, she’d stay safe from the Wild Child staying upstairs. Bessie had just finished her chapter when the front door opened.

  Annie? Is that you? She called out as she rose from her chair, dismayed that she was giving up good reading time but far too curious about the outcome of Annie’s visit to stay seated.

  Yes, Mama, came Annie’s reply. Annie’s rounded frame appeared, followed by Rory, the pair of them dripping with rain from the short sprint from the truck to the front door.

  You’re all wet, Bessie stated, frowning at the puddle beneath her daughter’s boots.

  You are very observant, quipped Annie, but not much help if you’re just going to stand there.

  Bessie gave a little harrumph and pulled herself to her feet. She slipped her tablet into the deep pocket of her cardigan and disappeared into the shadows that lined the downstairs hallway. A moment later she returned with two towels, which she tossed to Annie. Let me get the mop before somebody slips in that water, she chided.

  Sorry about that, Bessie, Rory apologized. I have no idea where that storm came from. I mean, you saw how nice it was out there not half an hour ago.

  Bessie nodded. You know how those spring storms are, Rory. They’ll sneak up on you in a hurry, she warned him. How did your visit with that horrible man go? She asked her question as she attacked the puddle with her mop.

  Annie and Rory shared a glance, just a quick one, but Bessie latched onto it. I knew it. What did he do, try to call the police on you for coming to his house? Run you off with a pack of wild dogs and a shotgun?

  Actually, he didn’t do anything but lay on the floor and stare up at the ceiling, Annie quipped. Well, he would have been staring if he hadn’t been dead.

  Bessie’s hand flew up to her mouth. Oh, my goodness! Annie, what happened?

  Annie dragged her chestnut hair through the folds of the towel. Well, Emmett says we won’t know until the coroner takes
a look at him, but he may have had some sort of cardiac issue or maybe a stroke. Annie didn’t like to say the words ‘heart attack’ if she could help it. Both her late husband and her late father had died from massive heart attacks, and talking about heart problems made her just a bit uneasy.

  Emmett was there? Bessie’s eyes narrowed. You didn’t tell him I baked a pie for that man, did you? For heaven’s sake, I can’t have him getting the wrong ideas. He ought to know that I only baked that pie under duress, she added. "Wait, what did you do with the pie?"

  We left it with Emmett as evidence, Rory joked. He said that he’d make sure it was processed appropriately.

  Bessie chuckled. Well, I expect we’ll see him around here soon. Emmett knows I never bake just one pie at a time, she joked, then she suddenly remembered what they’d just been discussing. Oh, we shouldn’t be joking around like this. Poor Mr. LaRue might’ve been a hateful old fart, but you shouldn’t talk about people when they’re dead, not even mean ones.

  Annie forced a serious look on her face. You’re right, Mother. It’s not nice. She paused, then changed the subject. Did the Wallaces check out while we were gone? Annie shared her mother’s opinion of Melody Wallace and her son, Joshua. She’d spent nearly an hour trying to get all the permanent marker off the walls the day before, and she just hoped the young family decided to check out before Annie’s patience ran out. The woman honestly didn’t seem to believe in any sort of discipline for the child, as far as Annie could tell.

  Not yet, Bessie replied, her disappointment obvious. I did give her a gentle reminder this morning, you know. Bessie had printed the woman’s bill and tucked it neatly beneath the cereal bowl that she’d sent up to the Wallace family’s room. She thought it was a subtle, yet firm, reminder that the woman had outstayed her original planned visit.

  Annie nodded and took Rory’s towel from him. I’ll go put these in the laundry room.

  And I’ll put on some coffee, Bessie chirped. Warm you up while you tell me all about your visit to Mr. LaRue’s place.

  Rory suppressed a chuckle while Annie rolled her eyes. Bessie loved to be ‘in the know,’ especially about matters that involved people she knew. She hadn’t known LaRue well, but she’d laid eyes on him up close at least once, and that was enough. She’d follow every aspect of Emmett’s investigation right up until the very end just because she ‘knew’ the dead man.

  Minutes later, Bessie made good on her promise, and the three of them found themselves sipping coffee at the sturdy wooden table in the kitchen.

  Are you cooking dinner tonight? Annie asked, noting the very obvious lack of food smells in the kitchen.

  Nope, Bessie replied defiantly. I’ve cooked for the past two nights and the guests hardly touched it. They got breakfast and lunch, they can fend for themselves tonight. She took a defiant sip of her drink, then added, I told Devon to bring home pizzas from that new pizza restaurant near the library, she admitted. The library closes at six tonight, so they’ll be here in time for a late supper, she assured her daughter.

  Devon had settled in remarkably well at the new school. It was nothing like his old school in New York, but it seemed to suit him just fine. It was far smaller than the old school, had far fewer extracurricular activities that weren’t sports-related, and didn’t have a swimming pool (not even on the roof, contrary to what the upper-class students tried to tell him on his first day), but it was ‘all good,’ according to Devon.

  Surprisingly, not only had Devon settled into the school like he’d gone there his whole life, he’d also managed to snag himself a job at the small library in town. He was working as a library page, sorting and shelving books for a few hours each week. Annie liked the fact that her son had found a job that wasn’t in fast food or retail, and she also liked the fact that he worked mostly with older people, with whom he seemed to get along with very well.

  Devon liked the job because it allowed him to be home in time for online gaming with his New York friends and he got to work with Laura Parsons, a pretty, quiet girl from Devon’s school. Now that he had his driver’s license and a job, Annie saw less of him than she liked, but he still helped out quite a lot around the inn. Annie thought that maybe Rory was a big reason for that--the pair of them often went fishing together, worked on repair jobs, and Rory had even begun showing Devon how to build small carpentry projects.

  For Devon, Rory had silently and effortlessly replaced Annie’s late husband. In Annie’s mind, Rory seemed to

  be doing a far better job than David had done. David Richards had liked the idea of a family, but when it came right down to it, he’d preferred to spend his time at work or drinking with his colleagues rather than playing happy families.

  Whenever Annie’s thoughts of her past life in New York started to creep up on her, she only had to look around at Rosewood Place to see how far she’d come in her journey to building a new, happy life. Rory had played a big part in that, of course. He was the only person who believed in the plantation house’s potential enough to help Annie renovate it, and he loved the house as much as she did. He also seemed to love Devon and Bessie, which was even more important to Annie.

  She tried to remind herself that Rory was just her friend, that it didn’t matter whether or not he got on well with her family, but as the months wore on, she was beginning to realize that she actually did have stronger feelings for Rory. Whether she would call it love or just an intense level of friendship, she wasn’t quite sure.

  Annie had put the notion of romance and relationships out her mind when David died, but in her heart, she knew that someday she’d likely want to be a part of a couple again. Sometimes she missed the physical side of romance--the cuddles, the kisses, the flirting--but the pain of David’s betrayal was still very fresh in her mind. Annie wasn’t sure she could put herself in such a vulnerable position anytime soon.

  On the other hand, Annie worried about waiting too long to address her feelings. Sure, she was content now, but what if Rory met someone and wanted to date them, or even marry them? And what if someone wanted to date Annie? Would she flatly refuse just because she had such a wonderful friendship with Rory?

  Annie, did you even hear me? Bessie was reproaching her about something, and Annie realized with some embarrassment that she’d let her mind wander. She glanced at Rory, afraid that he’d somehow be able to see inside her head and read her thoughts, but he was busy sketching something on a little notepad.

  I said that Mr. Michaels had a letter delivered here while you were out. I knocked on his door, but he didn’t answer. I left it on your desk in the office. He’s an odd one, don’t you think?

  Annie pulled herself back to the present. You think everyone’s odd, Mama. He told us he might have a letter or two delivered, remember? Something to do with his job.

  Whatever that is, Bessie snorted.

  I believe he’s a songwriter, Rory intoned, putting his sketch aside. Bo Michaels has written quite a few top ten country music songs in the past few years. I Googled him when I heard his name. It seemed familiar to me, and now I know why. Have you heard ‘Don’t Let Your Cheating Heart Lie’? Or ‘Leaving Easy?’ He wrote those.

  Annie didn’t listen to much country music, but even she recognized the two songs Rory mentioned. Oh, my--I didn’t realize. He probably made a lot of money out of those, if he gets any sort of royalties, I mean.

  Rory shrugged. I dunno, I think I read somewhere that songwriters only get something like nine cents for every time their song is sold. I guess if he wrote enough songs he might get rich.

  Conversation fell off for a moment as the three of them sipped their drinks and contemplated the fact about royalties that Rory had just shared. Annie wondered vaguely if Bo Michaels was planning on staying for the rest of the week or if he was planning on leaving soon. Part of her wished that all of her guests would clear out, just for a day or two. Yes, she knew that she needed the money that guests brought, but a tiny part of her simply longed for a break from her
duties as the owner of the inn.

  She was tired these days, though she supposed that she brought that on herself. What had originally been planned as a bed and breakfast place turned quickly into a full-service inn with two or three meals per day served and at least two or three rooms booked most days of every week. Her ‘quaint little bed and breakfast’ that she’d dreamed about had grown and taken on a life of its own.

  Apparently, people were drawn to the history of the place as much as she had been, though before Annie had bought the plantation, it had sat empty for many years. More than a few hopeful ghost hunters had stayed in the old house, hoping to catch a glimpse of something supernatural or sinister in its dark hallways, but they were almost always disappointed.

  Annie had never felt the slightest hint of a supernatural presence in the house. Despite the fact that it was close to three centuries old, the plantation had never seen much success, at least not as a plantation. It had changed hands many times throughout the years, so much so that Annie had a hard time keeping track of all the owners when she’d researched the home’s history upon moving in.

  She knew its original history, including the time period when it was an actual cotton plantation, but she didn’t

  know much about the families who had lived in the place on and off throughout the last two centuries. She’d been told by numerous people that the place had a ghost of some sort, but Annie had yet to see anything to confirm this.

  It certainly did have a reputation as a place where strange and unfortunate things happened. Some said it was cursed, but Annie thought that it was simply an unfortunate place, one that attracted bad luck and crazy people.

  Since she’d lived at the plantation, Annie had experienced plenty of those types of things. Her first experience was a murder in her kitchen--a woman that Annie had known back in high school and who wanted to find something that, at the time, Annie had had no idea was even hidden in the house.