Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
Karma and Honey left about thirty minutes later after I insisted on making tea for both of them. I wanted to ask Karma a million questions about her own gifts, but she was too busy asking me about myself for me to turn the tables.
It was nice to just talk about silly, unimportant-seeming things rather than the dark, heavy topics of misfit magic and recent murder. It wasn’t until they’d left and I’d locked up behind them that I realized I’d completely forgotten to ask Honey about her eerie words regarding Sebastian’s death.
Had she had any more dreams or done another reading? I wondered if the runes might be clearer now. Maybe the notion of the wrong person dying was more conceptual, implying his death was wrong because he was young and had his whole life ahead of him. Or did the runes mean what I thought they meant, that Sebastian had not been the intended target of the murder? If it was the latter, were we barking up the wrong tree by focusing our attention on Melody and Deacon?
Maybe the killer had had someone else in mind entirely and Sebastian’s room swap had proven deadly for him.
I mulled this over on my bike ride home, with the familiar, comfortable weight of Bob in his backpack along for the ride. It was still bright out when I pulled the bike alongside my house and leaned it up against the patio railing. Rich would be by after dark to pick me up for our stakeout, so I had time to kill.
While Rich and I were planning to keep an eye on Melody tonight, something was still bugging me about the little room shuffle that had meant Sebastian wasn’t sleeping where he’d originally intended to.
I decided that since I still had a few hours before Rich came by, I would head over to the B and B and talk to the owner.
Leaving Bob at the house, I made the short walk back to the B and B. The streets were bustling with activity, and when I entered the little mansion, I was happy to see that the owner—whose name I thought might be Andie or Audrey—had her hands full talking to a small group of guests. None of the guests gathered around her check-in desk were a part of Sebastian’s original party. She was so occupied, she didn’t see me come in, so I figured there was no harm in just ducking upstairs to see Sebastian’s room for myself. The police were done with their investigations of the space, so it wasn’t like I’d be interfering with an active crime scene.
I tiptoed up the big stairs, waiting for someone to call up to me and stop me, but when no one did, I took it as a sign from the universe that this was meant to be and moved to the upper floor. I knew which rooms I had rented and who they’d originally been assigned to, so I headed to the one I was certain Sebastian must have swapped for.
There was no crime-scene tape on the door—or any of the doors—but I quickly realized my error. I had no key.
My magic might have been wonky lately, but this did seem like a good opportunity to try a simple spell I shouldn’t be able to screw up. I held my palm up to the lock, under the do not disturb sign, and whispered, “Open.”
Every lock on every door clicked open with an audible chunk sound.
Oops.
I’d have to remember to relock them all when I left, and perhaps not try any other spells until I had a better handle on what was happening with my magic.
I opened the now-unlocked door and ducked inside, shutting it softly behind me. The room was messy, clothing tossed about, takeout containers on one counter, a stack of Sebastian’s previously published books piled up on the dresser next to some loose paperwork.
But I quickly realized this couldn’t be Sebastian’s room.
For one thing, the bed—while unmade—was still covered in linens, and since Sebastian had been killed in his bed, the linens and mattress would have been removed. The do not disturb sign on the door had kept anyone from tidying up in here, but there was no mistaking that the contents of this room belonged to a woman.
A lacy bra dangled over the back of a chair, and while Sebastian had his share of ladies cooing over him, the bra coupled with high heels, several dresses, and some makeup on the nightstand told me I had just come into a room that definitely didn’t belong to Sebastian.
Which meant this must be Melody’s room.
Not exactly the person I’d wanted to investigate, but now that I was in here, I wasn’t going to throw away the opportunity. I kept my ear tuned for noises in the hall, then slowly moved around the space trying to see if she had helpfully left out any notes that said I killed Sebastian, and here’s why .
I wasn’t quite that lucky, but what I did zero in on were the papers littering the top of the dresser. I flipped through them, finding printed itineraries for the trip and a list of room assignments I’d sent Deacon before the group arrived. As I skimmed over it, my brows drew together in confusion.
Sure enough, Sebastian had been booked for this room, number 203, and Melody must have taken the room across the hall that was originally intended for Deacon, number 204. So when she’d said she never should have let him swap rooms, she’d meant swap with her ?
Maybe their rooms had just been shuffled around after booking; certainly the inn manager could have addressed requests as people arrived. There were plenty of logical reasons for people to end up in different places, especially given Sebastian’s insistence on a good view. But if Sebastian had died because he was in the wrong room, was Melody the intended victim?
Or had Sebastian been moved intentionally to make it easier for the killer to get to him, since Melody’s original room was right next to the fire escape?
I set the itinerary down and picked up another document, this one a bank statement. Melody’s name was on top—confirming my suspicion that this was her room—but there was also a note saying that the account was managed on behalf of Backyard Birdman LLC.
I was a bit perplexed. Hadn’t Melody just taken over as Sebastian’s manager after Deacon got fired? This statement was over a month old and showed a robust savings of thousands of dollars.
But why would Melody have been handling that kind of money on Sebastian’s behalf if she hadn’t been his manager at the time?
Floorboards creaked in the hallway, and I panicked. The room was large, but there weren’t a ton of options for hiding, and if those steps were coming this way, I wouldn’t be able to get out of the room without being seen.
I dropped to the floor and squirmed under the bed, hoping the draping bed skirt would hide me from observant eyes. It also meant I could barely see what was going on in the room.
The door to the bedroom opened and I sucked in a breath, trying to keep myself calm and hoping that all my various parts were safely tucked under the bed. This would be the worst possible time for my mischievous magic to act up, so I tried to focus on deep, soothing breaths rather than the idea of getting caught.
Decidedly masculine shoes entered, with a thick sole, military-style boots. The boots moved in much the same path I had originally taken, obviously scouring the room for something.
A hand rifled through a suitcase on the floor, and I held my breath. The person moved away from the suitcase empty-handed and then stood in front of the dresser for quite some time.
After what felt like an eternity, the boots moved back in the direction of the suite’s door and vanished back into the hallway. I waited for a full minute before wriggling back out from under the bed, and my gaze immediately landed on the dresser.
The bank statement was gone.
It had been right on top when I’d gone into hiding, and now it was gone.
I didn’t have much time to reflect on The Case of the Missing Bank Statement, because footfalls came back in the direction of the room.
“ Seriously? ” I hissed under my breath. “Remind me never to do this again,” I added to no one in particular.
Back under the bed—and just in the nick of time, as the door quietly whispered open and a different pair of male feet entered, these ones wearing what looked like beat-up sneakers. I’d been so sure it would be the same person that now I had even more questions than before.
This person made a beeline for the suitcase on the floor, and once again I held my breath, just begging my magic to behave itself a few more minutes.
Whoever was visiting this time was not on a mission of finding something, however. He buried something under Melody’s clothing and then wasted no time at all ducking back out of the room.
I waited one minute. Two. Surely the moment I got out from under the bed, this time Melody herself would come waltzing into the room. Instead, everything was quiet, and I finally got out from my hiding spot. I knew I had to get out of here or risk getting caught. Luck and magic wouldn’t make me invisible forever, but I needed to know what had been buried in the suitcase.
Lifting one of Melody’s dresses up, I spotted a pair of black leather gloves.
Black leather gloves that appeared to be stained with blood.