Chapter 4
Lacey looked around at the crowded reception area, very pleased with the number of people who had accepted her invitation. Some had even brought a guest or two along with them. In the hospitality world, the more people who knew about your establishment, the better. Most new businesses could not survive without referrals, especially those that had no marketing budget. She had invited virtually everyone from the small town of Elkville, which was only five miles from the Inn and many from the larger city of Colorado Springs, about twenty-five miles to the west. She had focused on business owners and others that she thought would be able to refer clients to the Inn.
When she was sure refreshments had been served to the crowd gathered in the reception area, she took her place at the top of the first set of stairs to speak to her guests. Thanking them all for coming, she invited them to join her for a tour. Even those that were familiar with the property before she purchased it were curious to see the transformation. The Inn had spent many years as a sprawling ranch, home to llamas and horses and even some cattle. Several outbuildings dotted the twenty-acre property. Some would probably have to be torn down as dilapidated as they were, but the old-fashioned barn would be renovated into their new event facility. The century- old barn had withstood the test of time and, as they say, it had good bones. Lacey envisioned casual or elegant weddings, family gatherings and even business seminars hosted in the cavernous space.
Lacey proudly led everyone through the Inn. They oohed and ahhed over the common areas and the special touches she had added to make the Inn both relaxing and luxurious. She could only show them the two yet unoccupied guest suites, but they all got the general idea. Each suite had its own sitting area and private bath. Lacey valued her privacy and knew that her guests would too.
The dining area, where guests would linger over a scrumptious breakfast before exploring the local sights was cozy. Country chic was how she would describe the decorating style. Only Charlotte and she knew the hours they had spent scouring flea markets and garage sales to find just the right mix of furniture and décor. Charlotte was very knowledgeable when it came to antiques. She had found some genuine pieces and some good reproductions that had not broken the budget.
Lacey’s private living area encompassed the small third floor of the Inn. She did not lead the tour through her tidy one- bedroom apartment.
For now, Charlotte rented a house in town. Eventually, as time and money allowed, they would renovate one of the small farmhouses on the property for her to live in.
Lacey was very conscious of Wyatt’s quiet presence throughout the tour, his intense blue eyes watching her. They concluded the tour back at the reception area.
After more mingling and enjoyment of the wine and appetizers, the guests began to take their leave. Each one enthusiastically promised to spread the word about the Inn and its amenities. Lacey stood at the double entry doors and personally thanked each guest as they left.
She felt a tiny bit of regret as she said goodbye to Wyatt. For some reason she was very intrigued by him, she couldn’t remember ever feeling such an instant attraction. She would not explore that interest in a married man so she knew that they would never be anything more than acquaintances. Lacey thought it was ironic that after ten long lonely years, the first male who interested her was not available.
As she and Charlotte cleaned up, they chattered about the successful evening. Tired but pleased they congratulated themselves on their hard work.
“Well, I really need to get home,” said Charlotte, “but I wanted to wait until the last guests checked in.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” replied Lacey. “I’m an innkeeper now, and I can greet and settle them when they arrive. Besides, I’m too wound up to go right to sleep,” she said with a smile.
Hugging her sister warmly, she sent her on her way. She hummed as she busied herself with a few tasks in the kitchen. She wanted to prepare the green chile and egg casserole that would be tomorrow’s breakfast. She realized that the honeymooners had not emerged from their suite and even Heather Mason had only briefly attended the gathering before heading to her room. Oh well, she thought, it did take a few days to adjust to the six thousand foot altitude. She would be sure to remind all of her guests to drink plenty of water and not exert themselves too much on their first day.
Just then, the old-fashioned dinner bell located on the deck near the entryway jingled.
“Ah, my final guests are here,” she said. She opened the door and greeted the two young girls who were standing on the wide wrap around deck. “Suzy and Joan, right?” Lacey asked.
The girls giggled and smiled. They appeared to be around eighteen to twenty years old and wore the standard uniform of girls that age, worn jeans and a t-shirt. Each held a bulging backpack as their only luggage. She offered to fix them a snack or something to drink.
Joan, a petite redhead, said, “Oh no thanks. We’re tired and have a lot planned for tomorrow, so if you’ll just show us to our room, we’ll be fine.”
Suzy, who was blonde and slightly taller, added, “Yeah, we are planning to bike through Garden of The Gods tomorrow and we are so psyched!”
She was referring to a beautiful national park nearby that was famous for its red rock formations and fabulous bike and hiking trails.
Lacey led them upstairs to the Inn’s only double suite and watched as they chose beds and threw their backpacks onto the floor. As they made themselves comfortable, she asked them again if they needed anything. They assured her they were fine, so she told them goodnight and wearily dragged herself up to the third floor.
Suddenly she was too tired to even shower. Washing her face and brushing her teeth she fell into her bed and into a deep, satisfying sleep.
Chapter 5
After what seemed like only seconds, she jumped up, not sure what had awakened her. Alert and listening she realized someone was screaming. Not even bothering with her robe, she quickly headed down the stairs to the second floor, turning on lights as she went.
As she reached the second-floor landing, she noticed the Braverman’s looking confused and disoriented in the hallway. Joan and Suzy huddled together nearby, and Suzy was crying. They all seemed to be unharmed.
As she moved down the hallway, she almost ran into Heather Mason. She was standing at the top of the stairs staring down at the ground floor with a stricken look on her face. Lacey followed her gaze, and there at the bottom of the stairs was a man. Not moving, unnaturally still, with what looked like blood pooling under his prone figure.
She shook her head as she tried to clear her muddled brain and hurried to the bottom of the stairs. She leaned over the body and struggled to turn him over. As she stared into the sightless eyes, she knew he was dead. She checked for a pulse and finding none, confirmed that he was indeed dead. As she pulled her hand away, she stifled a gasp as she noticed that her hand was stained with blood. Sticking out of the victims’ chest was an antique railroad spike.
She looked up at the huddled group on the landing above.
“Who…what…happened….who is this?” she shouted.
Heather Mason pointed shakily and said, “It’s my husband. It can’t be, but it is. It’s my husband, Adam.”
Just then, the front doors burst open. Wyatt Graves and another man who appeared to be a deputy rushed in and quickly took in the scene.
Wyatt pulled Lacey back from the body, he leaned down to examine the dead man and said, “What happened here? We got a 911 call from someone in this house.”
Joan said, “It was me, I called.”
The deputy who had been going from room to room came over to Wyatt and said, “There’s no one else here. I’ve already called for the coroner. Is there anything else you need me to do?”
For a moment, no one spoke, and Lacey could hear the steady tick-tock of the antique clock on the wall. As the horror of what had happened sunk in Lacey began to shake. Wyatt reached over and held h
er arm as if to support her if she fainted.
He turned her to face him and said gently, “Do you know this man?”
Behind him at the top of the stairs, she met Heather’s teary gaze and said, “Mrs. Mason says it’s her husband. It’s her deceased husband.”
Wyatt spoke softly, “I can see that he’s dead.”
“No, no. You don’t understand,” said Lacey, “her husband Adam died several years ago.”
Heather sobbed loudly and Joan and Suzy seemed to be supporting her, each one holding an arm.
Wyatt looked down at the body and asked, “Is that a railroad spike in his chest? Where did that come from?”
Pale and shaken Lacey said quietly, “I think I know where it came from. Come with me, and I’ll show you.”
She led him to the top of the second-floor landing and continued down the guest hallway. About half way down she stopped and pointed. She was pointing to an art niche carved into the wall, one of several located in this hallway. This particular niche displayed an array of ancient mining tools. Amongst the antique gold pan, small tools and implements were a couple of similar metal spikes.
She reached to pick up one of them and Wyatt grabbed her arm. “Don’t,” he said, “evidence.” Still holding Lacey by the arm Wyatt steered her back to the small group on the landing. He looked around at the stricken faces and announced, “This is now a crime scene. No one is to leave the premises. Please do not touch anything until we can process the scene. We will need to interview each of you. Lacey is there somewhere private where we can conduct the interviews?”
Lacey thought quickly and then suggested the small library off the reception area. Several more people came in through the front door. Lacey assumed these were the coroner and the crime scene technicians that the deputy had called.
Wyatt was huddled deep in conversation with the group downstairs. Lacey gathered the stunned guests and led them to a tiny sitting area at the end of the hall. Surely they could wait there at least until the body was removed. As they sat on the small couch and chairs grouped invitingly near a huge window that looked out over the back of the property, no one spoke. Lacey noticed that night was fading and the pale light of dawn was just beginning to appear. How did this happen? Good God, was someone right here in this group a murderer? As she looked around from face to face, she could tell that the same horrible thought had occurred to the others. How had someone else gotten into the Inn? She knew that she had made the rounds to making sure that everything was secure. The doors were unlocked when the sheriff and his deputy arrived. The victim had gotten in. How? Why? She had so many questions.
She heard her sister, Charlotte’s voice downstairs, “I don’t care about your rules. I’m going to see my sister!” She hurtled up the stairs and engulfed Lacey in a comforting hug. She took off her sweater and placed it around Lacey’s shivering form.
Lacey now realized she was wearing only a tank top and boxer shorts. Joan and Suzy were dressed in a similar fashion. Heather Mason had on a robe, as did the honeymoon couple. She hoped they would be allowed to dress properly before being interrogated by the officers downstairs. She had to wash the blood off her hands. She turned to Charlotte and asked, “How did you know?”
Charlotte spoke drily, “With all the commotion and vehicles heading up here, who doesn’t know something happened? I didn’t think I would see a body. I thought maybe someone had fallen or something.”
Oh, how I wish that were all that had happened, thought Lacey.
CHAPTER 6
An officer accompanied each one of them to their rooms while they cleaned up and got dressed. A technician took a photograph of Lacey’s hands and then told her she could wash them. Three technicians roamed the premises taking pictures and dusting surfaces with black powder. Lacey was thankful that the body had been removed, presumably to the morgue. One by one, they were lead into the library to talk with Wyatt and a Detective Peterson, a homicide investigator borrowed from the Colorado Springs police department. Lacey was last.
After asking for Lacey’s permission, the technician took a photo and then fingerprinted her. She told them everything she knew, which wasn’t very much. Wyatt only asked a few questions, leaving most of the discussion to Detective Peterson. She felt self-conscious with Wyatt’s eyes on her as she carefully considered and answered each question. How well did she know her guests? Had she known the victim? What did she see? What did she hear? On and on the questions went, some questions were the same but the detective worded them differently each time. Finally, both men seemed satisfied and told her she could go back to her guests. Gratefully, she left the library.
In the hallway, she smelled the tantalizing aroma of her green chile breakfast casserole. Bless her sister, she had gathered the others in the dining room and was urging coffee and warm plates of casserole on everyone. No one really ate much, but they all seemed relieved to pretend to do something normal. Heather Mason was pale and silent. She stared out the windows with an occasional stifled sob. Lacey went over to her and asked if there was a friend or relative she could call for the poor woman.
“No,” Heather said wanly, “Adam and I were both only children, and we never had kids. I have no one.”
“Do you mind telling us about Adam?” asked Lacey, “How did he die?”
“It was a car accident a long time ago, and I don’t want to talk about it,” said Heather.
Lacey could see that everyone was exhausted and suggested they all retreat to their rooms to rest. They all seemed grateful for the suggestion and quickly headed upstairs.
Charlotte was busily cleaning up the remains of a barely eaten breakfast. Lacey stood looking out the large windows of the dining room. She had wanted these windows to be placed right here and without the distraction of windowpanes or even curtains. This was because they perfectly framed the magnificent view of Pike’s Peak and the front range of the Rocky Mountains.
Even now, she marveled at the beautiful scene before her. The sky was a brilliant and clear blue with just a wisp of a cloud shaped like a finger. The cloud finger seemed to point directly at the peak. The wispy finger seemed to be saying, look, look at this!
She wondered how everything had gone so horribly wrong. In a matter of hours, they had gone from beautiful and charming day to an ugly and horrible night. Only yesterday, she was excited and nervous about the grand opening of her beloved Inn and now today her entire world was under a dark, gloomy cloud of horror and suspicion.
Charlotte came up behind her and tapped her gently on the shoulder. She turned to see Wyatt standing there in the kitchen. For just a moment, he looked at her with such compassion that she almost burst into tears, but instead she squared her shoulders and held her breath in order to appear calm and unruffled. He asked her if she would mind coming into the library to talk. She had already told them everything she knew but suddenly felt so tired that sitting for a few minutes would be welcome. He led her into the quiet nook and indicated she should sit on the deep leather sofa near the window. Officer Peterson was not in the library.
She had chosen every piece of furniture in this room specifically to encourage curling up with one of the many books located on the massive built- in bookshelves. The renovation of the Inn had included adding multiple windows strategically placed to take advantage of the views. There was a cozy river rock fireplace, which remained unlit, as it was unnecessary in the middle of June. His quiet voice interrupted her musings.
He asked softly, “How are you? Are you okay?”
She sputtered, “How do you think I am? Someone was killed right here. And I’m not stupid, I’m pretty sure one of my guests did it!”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I know that you are smart. I’m sure you have some insight into what has happened. Which is why I want to know what you think,” he replied calmly.
“I don’t know what to think. Mrs. Maso
n says the dead man is her husband, but how can that be? She told me he died several years ago,” her face mirrored the confusion and shock that filled her thoughts.
He sat down next to her on the sofa and gently took her hands. She looked down at their entwined hands; she couldn’t help noticing the gold band on his left hand. She thought that he had most likely received training in how to make a potential witness feel comfortable. He was very good at it; she was ready to tell him anything he wanted to know. Stop these ridiculous thoughts she admonished herself. Even though his touch felt warm, he was not available, and this was just business to him. Even knowing this, she couldn’t help herself from feeling some spark, something exciting just being close to him. This close she noticed that his bright blue eyes had gold flecks, and he smelled clean and fresh even though she knew he had had a long morning.
The house seemed quiet, and she guessed that the swarm of people who had been everywhere earlier had left. Now they were analyzing, testing and doing whatever it is they do to put the pieces of a murder together. She still couldn’t believe that this had happened.
He asked her again if she was okay and then held his hand up to block her animated reply.
“Of course not,” she repeated.
He tried a different tactic, “Tell me something about you. Are you from Elkville? Do you have any other family besides Charlotte?”
She took a deep breath and gave him a brief summary of her life. She had grown up in Denver, gone to college in Colorado Springs and Boulder but had fallen in love with Elkville when she found this dilapidated property.