Chapter Sixteen
Breakfast went off without a hitch, and Larkin and Carson exchanged a fist bump in the kitchen.
“We did it,” he said.
She was glad he didn’t add anything about them making a good team. Even though it was true. They had always worked well together, whether it was on a school project, or playing sports, or making breakfast for a tableful of paying guests.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Jo said.
“We have to thank Robin too,” Larkin said. “He was good at keeping himself entertained while we worked.”
“If only he was as good at putting away things as he is at pulling them out,” Jo said ruefully.
But it had been her idea to open the pantry door and let Robin amuse himself with the tinned and boxed goods that were stored there.
He’d removed pretty much everything from the bottom two shelves, stacking them helpfully in front of the washer and dryer in the adjoining room.
Realizing they were talking about him, Robin grinned proudly from behind a stack of canned tomato tins.
“It’s usually about now that Amy goes out and asks people what their plans are for the day,” Jo said. “Shelley, do you think you could do that?”
Shelley had been unusually quiet all morning and had barely smiled at Robin’s antics. Now she gave a short nod. “I suppose.”
“Maybe we should all go out there and thank the guests for putting up with us.” Carson picked up Robin and settled him on his shoulders. “Your work is done here, little man.”
All the guests, except Kris, who had excused himself to start his morning shift at the Graff, were still lingering over their coffees.
But before Shelley, or anyone else, had a chance to speak to them, the front door opened and closed.
They heard voices, then Chet and Amy appeared.
Amy had her wrist in a compression bandage, but not a cast, which Larkin hoped was a good sign.
Amy gave them a tired smile. “How was breakfast, everyone?”
“Carson and Larkin saved the day,” Jo said, coming out of her kitchen. “But tell us what the doctor said. How is your wrist?”
“Only sprained, thank goodness. And I’m going to have some pretty spectacular bruises on my shoulder and hip, but no broken bones.”
“Still, you need to rest,” Chet said, helping his wife into the vacant chair next to Ethel. “I’ll get an ice pack for your wrist.”
“You must be starved,” Carson asked. “Grab a muffin and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee.”
As everyone fussed over Amy, Larkin noticed Shelley slowly moving back toward the kitchen.
That sealed it for Larkin. She’d suspected Shelley was behind the so-called mishaps at Bramble House for some time, but she’d been hesitant to say anything until she was certain. She still didn’t have proof. But she hoped Shelley’s own conscience would make that unnecessary.
“Shelley,” she called out in a voice meant to be heard across the room, “do you have any idea why the top porch step was so icy this morning?”
Everyone stopped talking. Most people turned to Larkin, as if to ask why she was being so rude. But Carson turned to Shelley. And so did Amy.
“Why would I know?” Shelley challenged.
She sounded defiant, but guilt was written all over her face.
Shelley couldn’t be a terrible person. Or she wouldn’t have been so bad at pretending to be innocent.
She glanced at the back door as if considering bolting, but Carson, in a move Larkin had seen him use to good effect before, took a few steps and blocked her.
“Well, someone’s been a busy little saboteur this week,” Larkin said, giving rein to some affronted sarcasm.
“The burnt cookies and coffee mix-up could have been accidental. The dead mouse and the brownies, not so much. Then there was today.” Larkin’s voice tightened with anger.
“Amy could have been seriously hurt. Or what if one of the elderly guests had fallen?”
It could have been her grandmother, barely recovered from a hip operation. Shelley might be a young woman, only fresh from high school. But she was definitely old enough to know that what she’d done had been dangerous.
“Hang on,” Chet said. “What did Shelley have to do with the icy step?”
“I’m guessing after her date last night she stopped by and dumped some water on the top step. By morning it would have frozen into a guaranteed accident waiting to happen.”
All the blood had drained from Shelley’s face. But she still stuck her chin out defiantly. “Why would I do that?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Larkin said.
“And I think I got my answer when I went to talk to some of the other bed and breakfast owners in Marietta. I wanted some context, to see where Bramble House fit in compared to the local competition. One of the places I happened to visit was the Rocking Chair B & B.”
“That place is relatively new,” Jo said. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Unwittingly, or maybe wittingly, blocking yet another of Shelley’s escape avenues. “A nice young couple opened it last year.”
“I met them and they’re lovely people,” Larkin said. “Their names are Chris and Dana Whitehall. While I was chatting with them, I kept feeling that Dana reminded me of someone. Only later did I realize who. Dana’s your sister, isn’t she, Shelley?”
Shelley hesitated, then finally nodded. “Yeah, but so what?”
Everyone in the room was totally swept up by the drama now.
Even Robin was quiet, enjoying his perch on his uncle’s shoulders.
Larkin wasn’t sure she should go on. Amy probably would have preferred she share her suspicions about Shelley’s motivations privately.
But Larkin had needed to see Shelley’s face when she accused her. And that face had told her everything.
“Let me see if I can guess the answer to that.” Gibson, of all people, started to speak. “Shelley, did you take this job to spy on your sister’s competition?”
Suddenly Shelley’s pale face flooded with color.
“Since you were here anyway,” Gibson continued, “it must have been tempting to create a little havoc. Throw the cookies back in the oven for a few minutes to make them less perfect. Switch the coffee beans between the drip and the espresso machines.”
“Wh-why would you accuse me of these things?”
“I knew you put the dead mouse in my tub,” Gibson said calmly. “I saw you enter my room ten minutes before I found it. I assumed you were there to do some cleaning, so got myself a cup of coffee and waited in the sitting room until I saw you leave.”
“I didn’t notice you—”
“I can be very quiet and still when I want to be.”
“Now I’m really confused,” Amy said. “Gibson, why didn’t you tell me if you thought Shelley put the mouse in your tub?”
“I was curious,” he admitted. “I couldn’t figure out her motivation. I figured she wanted me to give Bramble House a bad review. But I didn’t understand why.”
“Did it not occur to you that her stunts could get dangerous?” Chet asked in a hard voice. “My wife was seriously hurt this morning, and it could have been worse. She could have broken a bone or suffered a brain injury.”
“I’m sorry, you are quite right,” Gibson said. “I should have realized the young woman’s pranks might escalate. I apologize for my silence. But also—I wasn’t sure you’d believe me. I didn’t have any proof.”
“Hang on a minute,” Amy said. “What did you mean when you said Shelley wanted you to give Bramble House a bad review? Why should she care about a review from just one of our guests?”
“You still haven’t figured out who he is, have you?
” Shelley sounded scornful. “That’s the really maddening thing.
Other than keeping up an Insta account and hosting a few charity events, you don’t spend anything on promotion.
Yet, people around here can’t say enough nice things about Bramble House.
You’re always full and you have so many five-star reviews.
How’s a start-up bed and breakfast supposed to compete? ”
“Just a few years ago, I was the new guy in town,” Amy said.
“Maybe. But you had a B & B with history and a following in town. You didn’t have to build your reputation from scratch.”
“And that’s a reason to try and hurt me? I trusted you, Shelley. I brought you into my home—you even played with my son.”
Shelley’s eyes filled with tears. She stared down at her entwined hands.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought if Bramble House’s reputation wasn’t so perfect, maybe it would be easier for my sister to build up her business.
I’m really sorry about the ice. I wanted someone to slip, but I didn’t think they would get hurt. It’s only a few stairs, right?”
“I broke my hip stepping off a curb, young lady,” Ethel said, speaking up for the first time. “Can you imagine what might have happened to me if I slipped on that ice?”
Shelley covered her face with her hands.
“You should be completely ashamed of yourself,” Ethel continued. “Instead of trying to tear down your competition, you should put your energy into making your sister’s bed and breakfast a special place.”
“So you were responsible for the pot brownies,” Marjorie exclaimed. “It would have been easy for you to add them to the trays when you were refreshing the baked goods and sandwiches.”
“Come on,” Shelley said. “That one was harmless enough.”
“It wouldn’t have been if Robin had eaten one of those brownies. Marijuana is highly toxic for children.” Amy shook her head. “I don’t get you, Shelley. It’s like you didn’t consider the consequences of any of the awful things you did here.”
“You’re right. I’m a horrible person.” Shelley whipped her apron off her neck and threw it to the floor. “I’ll go home, and you’ll never have to see me again. You don’t even need to pay me.”
Larkin shook her head. “It’s not that simple, Shelley. There are legal consequences to what you did. Amy and Chet have every right to report you to the sheriff.”
“Yeah, but you’re not going to do that, right?” Shelley looked from Amy to Chet.
“We’re going to have to think on that,” Chet said.
Amy’s heart felt heavy. “I liked you, Shelley. I thought you were a good worker and fun to have around. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am.”
Shelley’s tears really began to fall then. She pushed by Carson and made her way to the back door, where she’d left her coat and boots. Ten seconds later they heard the door open and slam shut.
*
“Wow.” Amy turned to Larkin. “Thank you for figuring out what was going on. I was beginning to think I was going crazy.”
“You weren’t crazy, but Shelley sure is one messed-up young woman.”
“I don’t know the Whitehalls personally,” Jo said. “But I remember the parents being killed in a car crash about ten years ago.”
“Shelley would have been nine,” Larkin said. “A hard age to lose your mother.”
Any age was hard, Amy thought. She’d been in her twenties when her mom died, and she’d been devastated. Still, she took Larkin’s point. The loss of her parents at an early age didn’t excuse Shelley’s behavior, but it might help explain it.
She glanced around the table at her guests. “It’s been a crazy week. I’m sure this wasn’t what you were expecting when you signed up for a fun-filled, traditional holiday vacation at Bramble House.”
“Are you kidding?” Ethel said. “It’s like a murder mystery weekend at a country house. Only without the murder of course.”
“Gran, you’ve been reading too much Stephen King.”
“Sweetie, you can never read too much Stephen King. But I do admit all the excitement has me feeling tired. I’m going back to my room for a rest.”
“I’ll come with you.” Larkin started toward her grandmother but was waved away.
“I’m getting really slick with this walker. I’ll be fine. But I’d love to go back to my house for lunch if you don’t mind taking me.”
“I’d be happy to,” Larkin said, feeling a little guilty. This trip had been supposed to be all about Gran. Instead she’d messed around with Carson, solved a little mystery, and written an article for the local paper.
Speaking of which, she turned to Amy. “Have you read my article yet?”