Trooper wanted me to tell you they’re making headway on the accident investigation. I didn’t know what he was talking about, or why he’d be telling you. Apparently he thought I knew more than I do. He tried to cover his blunder, but he ended up telling me that someone shot the driver of a pickup earlier this morning, which caused the pileup. And that whoever did it might have taken refuge near here. That’s when I Googled you and found out what you do. I don’t want anything to happen to Tamara—or anyone else, of course.” He ducked his head, then met Gordon’s eyes. “I don’t mean to be asking for favors, but is there some way you can check up on our guests?”
“ Me? Not really. Cops don’t have the right to poke around the criminal databases. Every search has to be connected to a case.”
Yardumian nodded. “Understood.” A pause. “Are you armed?”
Gordon showed Yardumian his Beretta. “It’s good at short range, but I’d rather not need to use it.”
“ But you would if you had to, right?”
Gordon reholstered the gun. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“ So, even if you can’t check on people, you must have opinions, right? You think someone here could have done it? I mean, we don’t ask where our guests spend their days, and they all have keys to the entrance if they want to come and go. We didn’t see anyone until breakfast this morning. Paula gets up early and runs, and Sam goes sketching. And then Orrin showed up out of the blue.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And I checked. Nick Metcalf never made a reservation—at least not one we got. We save all emails, confirmations in particular, and if he said he got one—well, it didn’t come from here. I’m beginning to think that Agatha Christie scenario might not be too far-fetched.”
Gordon sighed and explained what had happened while he and Metcalf were looking for Roni. “He had every chance in the world to do me harm, but he saved my life instead. I don’t know why he claimed to have a reservation. Maybe he thought you’d turn him away if he didn’t. Or maybe he got his B and Bs mixed up. I know I looked at a bunch of places before I chose yours.”
“ So, you think we’re safe here tonight? I’ve got a shotgun, mostly to scare bears. Never had to use it. Was wondering if I should keep it within reach.”
“ I doubt that’s necessary.” All Gordon needed was a nervous, trigger-happy, inexperienced shooter blasting away at the tiniest noise.
“ I’ll trust your instincts, then. See you in the morning.” Yardumian stood. “Sleep as late as you want. We’ll make sure you get breakfast.”
Gordon walked Yardumian to the door and locked it behind him. Hoping the power had been on long enough to heat the water, he stripped and turned on the shower. After a moment, steam billowed above the curtain. With a groan, he let the spray sluice over him until the chill left his bones, ignoring the stinging of the water against his myriad cuts and scrapes.
He patted himself dry, and was out as soon as he hit the bed.
~~~
Sunlight crept under Gordon’s eyelids. He discovered the expected aches and pains as he eased himself out of bed. The bedside clock said eight. He’d slept ten hours. Once he was dressed, he limped down the stairs to the dining table, finding Orrin Wardell the only one there.
Mrs. Yardumian greeted him from the kitchen. “It’s waffles today,” she said. “I’ll have them for you in a jiffy.”
Gordon helped himself to coffee—actually her decaf was pretty good, if you didn ’t mind the lack of buzz.
When he took his seat, he noticed a folded piece of paper with his name on it, held down by a cell phone. His cell phone. He gave Wardell a questioning glance.
The man lifted his hands. “Hey, don’t ask me. It was sitting there when I got down here.”
Gordon opened the note. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to dislodge the school of floaters obscuring his
“ Me? Not really. Cops don’t have the right to poke around the criminal databases. Every search has to be connected to a case.”
Yardumian nodded. “Understood.” A pause. “Are you armed?”
Gordon showed Yardumian his Beretta. “It’s good at short range, but I’d rather not need to use it.”
“ But you would if you had to, right?”
Gordon reholstered the gun. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“ So, even if you can’t check on people, you must have opinions, right? You think someone here could have done it? I mean, we don’t ask where our guests spend their days, and they all have keys to the entrance if they want to come and go. We didn’t see anyone until breakfast this morning. Paula gets up early and runs, and Sam goes sketching. And then Orrin showed up out of the blue.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And I checked. Nick Metcalf never made a reservation—at least not one we got. We save all emails, confirmations in particular, and if he said he got one—well, it didn’t come from here. I’m beginning to think that Agatha Christie scenario might not be too far-fetched.”
Gordon sighed and explained what had happened while he and Metcalf were looking for Roni. “He had every chance in the world to do me harm, but he saved my life instead. I don’t know why he claimed to have a reservation. Maybe he thought you’d turn him away if he didn’t. Or maybe he got his B and Bs mixed up. I know I looked at a bunch of places before I chose yours.”
“ So, you think we’re safe here tonight? I’ve got a shotgun, mostly to scare bears. Never had to use it. Was wondering if I should keep it within reach.”
“ I doubt that’s necessary.” All Gordon needed was a nervous, trigger-happy, inexperienced shooter blasting away at the tiniest noise.
“ I’ll trust your instincts, then. See you in the morning.” Yardumian stood. “Sleep as late as you want. We’ll make sure you get breakfast.”
Gordon walked Yardumian to the door and locked it behind him. Hoping the power had been on long enough to heat the water, he stripped and turned on the shower. After a moment, steam billowed above the curtain. With a groan, he let the spray sluice over him until the chill left his bones, ignoring the stinging of the water against his myriad cuts and scrapes.
He patted himself dry, and was out as soon as he hit the bed.
~~~
Sunlight crept under Gordon’s eyelids. He discovered the expected aches and pains as he eased himself out of bed. The bedside clock said eight. He’d slept ten hours. Once he was dressed, he limped down the stairs to the dining table, finding Orrin Wardell the only one there.
Mrs. Yardumian greeted him from the kitchen. “It’s waffles today,” she said. “I’ll have them for you in a jiffy.”
Gordon helped himself to coffee—actually her decaf was pretty good, if you didn ’t mind the lack of buzz.
When he took his seat, he noticed a folded piece of paper with his name on it, held down by a cell phone. His cell phone. He gave Wardell a questioning glance.
The man lifted his hands. “Hey, don’t ask me. It was sitting there when I got down here.”
Gordon opened the note. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to dislodge the school of floaters obscuring his
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