Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
A s if cued from the rewrite I suggested earlier, the sun came out right after Josh finished taking my and Ian’s statements. We were free to go visit his uncle’s and my aunt’s graves.
I gave a forlorn glance at the mausoleum.
“After this break-in extra care will be taken to make sure the mausoleum remains secure,” Ian said.
“No doubt,” I admitted reluctantly.
“You wanted to get back inside there, didn’t you?” Ian said.
“And you didn’t?”
“Aye, I did, especially since it was my fault we dinnae get any photos. I will not make that mistake again.”
“How lucky am I having a boyfriend who looks forward to finding a vanishing body?” I said.
He reached out and pulled me into a firm hug. “As lucky as I am for having a girlfriend who enjoys murder and mayhem.” He gave me a quick kiss. “Now let’s go find those graves before the clouds return.”
I gave a quick glance at the mausoleum and wondered how anyone could have gotten into it in the first place and thought it would be good to talk with Dan, a bit of a cranky guy that most people avoid, and see if he had any insights into the break-in but that could wait. Ian had been eager to see his great-uncle’s grave for months now, his family and business trips and the winter snow having delayed the visit.
“I expected my Uncle Max would have a Celtic cross for his headstone, but I didn’t expect your aunt to have one. Though perhaps it was something they had decided on together,” Ian said, casting a glance at my Aunt Effie’s grave.
It was right next to Max’s grave, death finally allowing them to lie side by side. My aunt and his uncle had been in love since they first met near the end of World War II. Unfortunately, Max was married and circumstances forced him to remain in the marriage, but it did not stop him from having a longtime affair with my aunt, a well-known fashion model. I sometimes wondered if my Aunt Effie preferred it that way since she traveled extensively and often lamented how difficult it would be to sustain a healthy marriage.
“I am glad my uncle found love with your aunt. My da often remarked how his grandfather could never understand why Max had married Trudy. He said that they never seemed right for each other, that Trudy spent more time in Scotland than with her husband in America.”
“Perhaps their relationship suited Trudy,” I suggested. “She was a pleasant enough woman, but she never really involved herself with the residents of Willow Lake.”
“Whatever the reason my uncle stayed with her, I’m glad he met your aunt, and they fell in love and that he followed her here to Willow Lake, otherwise, we would have never met. Their love brought us together and I am grateful to them for that, and I believe they are overjoyed for us.”
I smiled, knowing my aunt would definitely be overjoyed for me and Ian. We shared a few stories of times we spent with both, though Ian never got to meet my aunt, whereas I knew his uncle well and spent more time with him than he had, so he always enjoyed hearing about Max.
We headed back to his motorcycle, ready to leave since the sun once again began to slip behind a gray cloud.
“You know the only way that guy could have gotten out of that mausoleum without us seeing him is?—”
“An emergency exit,” Ian said, offering a reasonable explanation. “I read where some old mausoleums had them just in case a person got locked in by accident.”
“That is a reasonable explanation, but how to find it is the troubling question. We need to get back into the mausoleum and take a closer look around.”
Just as we reached Ian’s motorcycle, the cemetery caretaker pulled up in front of it with his pickup truck. He got out and hurried toward us.
“Warning,” I whispered, leaning my head toward Ian. “Dan can be a bit of a crank.”
“Pepper, are you and this fellow the ones who found the Willow Mausoleum opened?” Dan snapped with annoyance.
“We are, Dan, and how annoying that must be for you when you take such good care of Willow Cemetery. I love the various shade gardens you planted throughout the cemetery and the benches you added where people can sit and reflect.”
“Your compliment doesn’t surprise me, Pepper, since your mother is the only one who takes time to find me and talk with me about new plants I’ve added and reflection areas I’ve updated. Like mother like daughter.”
Pepper wasn’t surprised that he went right on talking, not waiting for a response.
“Was the gate on the Willow Mausoleum fence already opened when you entered?”
“No, it was closed. Why do you ask, Dan?” I asked.
“This is the second time the Willow Mausoleum has been broken into and the last time the gate was closed as well. Why would someone leave the door to the mausoleum open after entering yet close the gate?”
Ian set the kettle on the stove to boil when we got back to my cabin, though I should say our cabin since he is here more often than not, or I’m at his place at Willow Lake Lodge, which he thought he inherited from his uncle when it turned out that I actually inherited it from my aunt and since he had already established his modeling business there, we came to a workable financial agreement for him to remain. While it came as a surprise—more of a shock—to us, he felt in the end it wouldn’t matter since Willow Lake Lodge would wind up in the family. A sure sign that he believed our relationship would be permanent, something I’d been surprised to hear.
Mo, my Alaskan Malamute who has a mind of his own, followed Ian into the kitchen, ready for his afternoon treat, and Roxie, my calico cat who thinks herself queen of the house, was winding her way between Ian’s legs reminding him she was to get a snack as well. As usual, he was generous with them which was why they completely ignored me and sought him out at snack time.
I grabbed my laptop and got comfy on the couch in the living room, the kitchen opened onto it, my aunt having designed an open concept long before it became popular since she loved to entertain and wanted a space that made it easy for everyone to mingle.
I started a new file marked Vanishing Body in Mausoleum and mumbled, “Photos.”
“Again, I’m sorry about that,” Ian said as he approached with two mugs of Earl Grey tea and handed me one.
“Not your fault,” I said. “We could have photographed outside around the mausoleum and some distant shots.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe I forgot to do that. I’ll go back tomorrow and get some photos.”
“If you had your phone with you, you would have thought of it,” he said, raising his mug of tea to toast his remark.
“Okay, so I keep forgetting my phone. “I looked around. “Where is it anyway?”
Ian rang my phone.
I grinned at him, hearing it come from the bedroom. “That’s your fault for keeping me otherwise occupied this morning.”
“Guilty,” he claimed and raised his mug again.
“We need to get everything down that we recall about finding that guy and how he looked before our memories fade, and we start guessing at what we saw.” I got busy typing, both of us voicing what we recalled, and we recalled much the same of what we saw, a good indication our recall was accurate.
“So, he was around five-ten, slim, his jeans and black sweatshirt worn and in need of washing, black biker boots, scruff from not shaving or he was growing a beard, brown hair a bit long, and he was pale with a bruise on his jaw.” I finished and looked at Ian.
“I believe that covers it,” Ian confirmed.
“Dead or alive?” I asked myself as well as Ian.
“His limbs weren’t stiff so if he was dead, he wasn’t dead for long.”
“Good observation,” I said, recalling how the guy’s arm easily fell away from his face.
“So, he could have been alive.”
“True,” I concurred. “But was he one of the looters or was he trying to stop the looting? Or was it about looting at all?”
I admired Ian’s naked chest the next morning as he slipped a black T-shirt over his head. He kept himself in pristine shape but then his job called for him looking like a hunk. He and his modeling crew provided endless photos for book covers from romance to mystery, thrillers, horror, young adult, you name it, he could provide it. He had recently added publicity packages that did it all for indie authors, even having the models join the authors at book signings if requested. He and his crew also did various modeling jobs all done from the comfort of Willow Lake Lodge, unless a specific location was requested. He kept expanding his business to go beyond the rapidly changing publishing and modeling industry so that his business would remain relevant or set a new direction in some areas.
I ran my hand along the temporary tat of a dragon on his arm when he pulled me into his arms. “He’s a fierce one.”
“And relevant to the book covers of a motorcycle club series we’re shooting today as well as a book trailer to go along with it,” he said and dropped a quick kiss on my cheek. “Please tell me you are not going alone to the cemetery today. With the mausoleum having been broken into twice, what’s saying it cannae be broken into again? And dinnae bother to tell me you can take care of yourself. We both know how that has worked out for you.”
“Okay, so I’m not invincible,” I said, thinking of the few times I got into situations where help was needed. “I asked Amy to join me. Tax season is done so her accountant business is slow and she’s eager to help investigate.
“You should take Mo with you. You never know what he may find,” Ian said with a chuckle.
I made a face at him. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”
He was referring to bones Mo dug up in the woods that led to a murder investigation that took unexpected turns and resulted in a shocking conclusion.
Ian finished his second cup of tea, kissed me, then headed to the door. “Text me the photos when you are done at the cemetery. I’d like to look them over so we can discuss them later.”
“Will do,” I said and grabbed my phone off the kitchen island. I turned and found Mo sitting in front of me, a forlorn look on his loveable face. I sighed. He had a way of making me feel guilty when I had done nothing to feel guilty about. “I will take you along as long as you behave,” I warned.
He barked and I capitulated.
With his vest secured, Mo bounced around as soon as we stepped outside, excited at joining me. He jumped into the back seat of my old Ram truck as soon as I opened the door, and we set off to pick up Amy.
Amy has been my best friend since kindergarten. We’re opposite in looks her tall and shapely, blonde hair, and me short and thin, auburn hair. She devours romance books. I devour mysteries. I’m game for doing anything to solve a mystery. She joins me, sometimes reluctantly. I love her like a sister and the feeling is mutual.
Amy hopped into the front seat and turned to give Mo a rub on the head. “Glad you could join us.”
Mo licked her face and shortly afterward she pulled her compact from her large purse—who carries large purses nowadays, though she needs it for all the stuff she carries around—and applied blush to the area Mo had licked clean. That was another thing we differed on. Amy was fashionable, always looking good even when wearing jeans with a navy tee under a fitted red jacket, the lapel adorned with an antique, circular pearl pin, and around her neck she wore a black ribbon choker with a small pearl dangling from it and Doc Marten boots on her feet. Whereas I paired my jeans with whatever top I grabbed from my drawer, presently a light blue knit with a raven on the front and a Poe quote beneath the black bird, ‘Never More.’ Add to that a basic tan jacket and work boots and I’m all set. Forgot the hair, Amy’s blonde hair is full of natural waves while my hair is usually in a ponytail. Like I said, opposites, but we work.
“Do you ever stop finding bodies?” Amy joked.
“I found one body, before this one, and it was Mo who found the bones,” I corrected. “And since this body vanished there’s a good chance that he’s still alive. An even better reason to find out that he actually is alive and what he was doing in the looted Willow Mausoleum.”
“You said the mausoleum had been found opened twice?”
“That was what Dan said. But there was no damage or looting the first time.”
“Maybe there is something of value there that we don’t know about,” Amy said. “I’ll search the town’s old newspapers and some of the books written about the town’s history and see if anything was mentioned in them of what may have been buried with any of the Willows.”
“Good idea, but what other reason besides theft would someone have for breaking into a mausoleum?”
“Maybe the mausoleum had already been broken into, and the guy ran in there to get away from someone, was caught, and is the reason for the bruise,” Amy said.
“That’s a thought and that would make two mysteries to solve… who broke in and what was the guy running from? Unless they are somehow connected.”
Once parked by the mausoleum, I opened the back door and gave Mo instructions. “No relieving yourself on anything here. Private property.” He tilted his head as if he was trying to make sense of what I said, so I made it clearer for him. “No pooping or peeing here. Got it?”
He barked and jumped out of the truck.
“And stay close to me,” I called out as he ran toward the mausoleum, and I took chase after him.
Amy followed behind us laughing.
Mo wandered around sniffing anything that caught his interest while keeping me in sight. I got busy taking photos of the fence that surrounded the mausoleum, particularly the gate. I zoomed in to get what photos I could of the mausoleum door and the building itself.
Amy explored around the outside of the fence, snapping photos now and again and sending them to my phone.
Dan kept the cemetery spotless so there was no debris around that might offer a clue. I continued to snap photos, stopping often to examine certain areas, but there was nothing that stood out, nothing out of the ordinary to find.
Mo plopped himself under a nearby tree to rest and Amy and I went over some of the photos.
“I thought we’d at least find something,” I said, our heads bent together as we looked at photo after photo.
“There’s not even a noticeable footprint,” Amy said disappointed.
“This can only mean one thing.”
Amy scrunched her brow. “What?”
“The guy had to have left through a secret passageway,” I said.
Amy cast a quick glance at the mausoleum. “That’s spooky to think there is a way in and out of there without being seen.”
“I wonder where we can get a blueprint for the maso— huh oh,” I said, spotting Dan’s truck pull up behind mine and getting out. “No doubt he’s going to tell me Mo can’t be here.” That couldn’t have been further from the truth.
As soon as Dan got out of the truck, Mo ran to him wagging his tail and the usual grumpy Dan called him by his name as he gave him a good rubbing behind the ears, then pulled a dog biscuit out of his jacket pocket and gave it to Mo.
“My mom’s brought Mo here, hasn’t she?” I asked, though I knew I was right.
“She brings him now and again when she comes here to discuss flowers and plants with me. He’s a well-behaved dog, not like some who come here,” Dan complained. “Running all over, doing their duty wherever they please, and not everyone cleaning up after them even though I have poop bags and disposal bins placed around the cemetery.” He pointed to one not far from the mausoleum. “But I can’t argue with the dogs being here, after all they’ve come to visit their deceased owners.”
“You’re on the Main Street Beautification Project?” I asked, recalling my mom telling me about it.
“Your mom asked me to be on it and I was happy to accept,” Dan said proudly.
Leave it to my mom to invite the grumpy cemetery caretaker to be on the project that was comprised of mostly women. I wondered who she intended to fix him up with.
I decided to give it a shot and asked, “Is there any chance of getting inside the Willow Mausoleum to have a quick look.”
“Sorry, Pepper, it’s private property. I can’t let you in.” He gave a nod to my phone. “Especially if you intend to take photos.”
“I understand,” I said, though didn’t give up. “Who is on record for holding the deed to the mausoleum?”
“You would have to ask Reverend Herbert about that. The Willow Mausoleum was here long before the rest of the cemetery, so its record remains with the church. I have a key so I can maintain it and strict rules to follow. Only the Willow family is allowed inside.”
“How about design plans for the mausoleum? You know where I might find them?” I asked.
“I’ve never seen any, but if it helps, I think one of the books written on the history of Willow Lake contains some inside photos of the mausoleum. The library has it and I heard that shop, Yesterday’s Treasures, sells them.”
“Thanks, Dan, that helps,” I said.
“Enjoy the beautiful spring day, ladies,” Dan said and waved to Mo, who wagged his tail while busy finishing the biscuit.
“We could stop and grab one of the books and visit with Kate after we’re done here,” Amy suggested.
“And you could see if she got any romance books in that you don’t already have and maybe an antique pin or two,” I said, aware that she had an ulterior motive for going there. “Then we can head to the diner for lunch and work out what else we can do to get inside the mausoleum.”
Amy loved romance novels and collected the older ones and antique pins as well. You don’t see many people wearing such pins nowadays, but Amy did, and she did justice to them.
“Sounds like a plan,” Amy said with a grin.
Mo’s bark caught my attention as he trotted over to me, keeping his eyes focused on the distance.
“What’s wrong, Mo?” I asked, scanning the area but not seeing anything, then I heard it… motorcycles.
It wasn’t long before Amy and I spotted the bikers. There looked to be half a dozen in all, and wouldn’t you know, they pulled up behind and in front of my truck.
“I’m texting your dad,” Amy said and wasted no time in doing so.
Only three of the bikers approached us.
“Wouldn’t you know one of them has to be gorgeous looking,” Amy whispered.
“Motorcycle boots,” I said, more interested in their footwear than their faces.
Amy looked at me strangely. “Of course, they’re wearing motorcycle boots, they’re bikers.”
“The guy in the mausoleum was wearing motorcycle boots. I wonder if he has any connection to them.”
“Good heavens, look at that smile. He could rival Ian,” Amy said, her eyes glued to the guy in the lead approaching us.
But she did get my eyes off their boots to take a look. “He doesn’t come close to Ian.”
“Better your eyes on them than their boots,” Amy warned in a whisper. “But he is a good-looking guy.”
Amy was right. The fellow who took the lead was a good-looking guy and he knew it. Tall, muscular build, dark, shoulder-length hair, dark eyes, and a brash smile.
Pepper expected his glance to fall on Amy, since most men found her blonde hair and curvy shape attractive, but his eyes went straight to me.
He took overzealous steps toward me, his smile far too confident. “Well, hello, gorgeous.”
Mo lunged at him, teeth bared, snarling viciously, warning him away.
The guy wisely backed up but the two idiots behind him pulled out knives.
I whipped out the small spray can in my pocket and pointed it at them. “Don’t even think about it.”
They laughed and the good-looking guy said, “Pepper spray is illegal, and you don’t look like the type to break the law.”
I grinned. “How do you feel about skunk spray?”