Miz Scarlet and the Holiday Houseguests (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery #3) by Sara M. Barton
Chapter Eight --
I ran the dogs outside for their last foray of the day. There was a light on in Bur’s apartment over the carriage house, so I buzzed him on my cell phone to find out what he knew about the boot prints.
“That was me, Scarlet. When I turned on the cameras, I had to reposition the one on the north corner. It must have gotten knocked loose by a branch.”
“Oh, thanks. We saw them and we were a little worried.” The three dogs were making their way around the ornamental bushes that lined the driveway, so I just followed the conga line as they marked their dance cards. “Larry thought it was an intruder.”
“I’ll call her to explain. It will set her mind at rest. How is she?” Bur inquired.
“Cranky. And nervous. I think she’s glad Max is here, though.”
“Good. Any trouble, you call me. I’ve got a baseball bat at the ready.”
“Nice to know, slugger.”
Just before eleven, all three dogs crowded into the elevator with me and I pushed the button to the second floor. When I opened the door, January trotted off to see if Lacey had any treats in her room. The other two decided to follow, just in case it was true. Meanwhile, I went to find Larry and her daughter.
Mickey was sitting on one of the twin beds in the White Oak Room. Larry had hung up her clothes for the morning on the hook of the closet door, and she was headed to the bathroom, her toiletry bag in hand. I paused at the door briefly. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”
“That’s your cue, kid. Sweet dreams.” Larry kissed her daughter’s cheek and sent her off with me. We got as far as the door to take us up to the third floor when we heard the sound of tiny paws thumping toward us. The pooch pack had returned. Without hesitation, the Jack Russell took the lead, shooting past us up the carpeted steps. Mozzie and Huck followed. January curled up on the armchair in the sitting room, staking out her claim. Huck took up his position on my bed pillows. Mozzie was at a loss, still waiting for Jenny to return.
“Not to worry, boy. You’ll have a friend with you tonight.” I sat down on the small sofa and invited him to join me as I waited for my new roomie to brush her teeth. Scratching the King Charles Cavalier spaniel behind his ears, I watched his eyes start to close. Ever since Jenny left, the poor dog was restless, unable to settle down. He was definitely tired tonight. Maybe with Mickey, Mozzie could finally get some rest.
“I’m all done with the bathroom, Miz Scarlet,” said Mickey, as she emerged. She was dressed in an oversized white tee shirt and a pair of pink plaid flannel pants. “See you in the morning.”
“You, too.”
Mozzie watched her go into Jenny’s room. I could see the little dog thinking about that. He listened to the sounds of the teenager climbing into bed and settling down in the unfamiliar room. The bedside lamp went off, leaving the room dark. A moment later, the small dog with the sweet disposition hopped down from the loveseat and followed, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Is that you, Mozzie?” I heard Mickey ask a moment later. I waited a few minutes, watching the weather forecast on TV, just in case Mozzie changed his mind. When the news crew moved on to the sports report, I gave January a pat as I passed her on my way to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, tucked under my fluffy down comforter, Huck by my side, I drifted off to sleep, happy to know that Larry and Mickey were in no danger.
I dreamed I was running in the snow, slipping and sliding down the blue trail up on White Oak Hill. Someone was chasing me, but I was afraid to look over my shoulder. I just wanted to get away from him.
“Help me! Someone, help me! Please!”
“Miz Scarlet!” I heard a voice calling my name. There were dogs barking. “Are you okay?”
“Help me,” I cried again. More barking.
“Wake up! You’re dreaming!” A terrified Michaela stood in the doorway of my bedroom. I had left a lamp on in the sitting room, and I could see her trembling.
“What?”
“You’re having a nightmare.”
“Oh, Mickey!” I sat up in bed, turning on the light. “I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t frighten you too much.”
“No, just enough,” the teenager blurted out. “Boy, Miz Scarlet, you sure can scream!”
“What’s going on?” demanded a voice at the bottom of the stairs. Larry pounded up the steps, two at a time. “What happened?”
“Scarlet had a nightmare, Mom.”
“She did?” Larry stepped into my bedroom. “You did? Do you normally have nightmares?”
“Not that I know of,” I admitted sheepishly. “I’m really sorry I woke you both.”
“What were you dreaming about?” she asked, sitting on the end of my bed. “It sounded unpleasant.”
“It was. I was being chased on the trail by a maniac with a gun.”
“Do you know why? Sometimes if you know what goes on in your nightmare, you can figure out what you were really dreaming about.”
“Yes. It’s because I knew his secret and he didn’t want me to tell anyone.” I shivered at the memory of the dream. I could hear the killer’s voice, but I couldn’t see his face.
“It must have been horrible because you were screaming bloody murder. I thought someone was in your room!” Mickey told me, the shock still clinging to her words.
“And you were brave enough to check on Miz Scarlet anyway?” The proud mother put her arms around her daughter and gave her a bear hug. “You might just be a chip off the old block after all.”
“What?” Mickey grinned shyly. “I had to go by her room to get to the stairs. It’s the only way out of here.”
“That’s my baby,” Larry announced, planting a big kiss on Mickey’s cheek.
“Yes, but now I’m wide awake. I’ll never get back to sleep.”
“Come with me, little one. Mama Bear’s going to tell you a story.” The pair left me, returning to Jenny’s room. I lay awake, listening to the hushed sounds of a conversation. Even though I couldn’t understand the words spoken, I took comfort that there were two people in the next room.
Why was I so terrified, even now? I knew it was a dream, but somehow it felt so real to me. I stared up at the ceiling as a thousand disjointed thoughts seemed to whirl around and converge in my head. Something was wrong, my brain kept insisting. I don’t know the man who was chasing me. He hated Larry, and in order to get to her, he had to go through me. Why?
“You okay?” Larry asked quietly. She was back, watching me as she leaned against the door jamb.
“The man in the dream...he wasn’t after me. He was after you.” I sat up again. “He wanted to destroy you.”
“Oh, you’re just worried about me because I’ve been so stressed lately. You can just forget it, Miz Scarlet. I’ll be fine as soon as both my parents are here and I know they’re not going to kill each other. I probably shouldn’t have told you about their feud. I planted the idea in your head.”
“No.” I looked her right in the eye. “My nightmare had nothing to do with your parents. Some guy wanted to kill me, but you were his real target. He hates you.”
“Okay. I’ll play along.” The homicide investigator crossed her arms. “Let me pretend your dream was real. The first thing I’m going to ask you is how do you know it was me he wanted to harm?”
“You made him really mad. You stopped him once before.”
“Did I?” She gave me a weary smile. “And how did I do that?”
“You put him in jail.”
A guarded look fell over Larry’s face for a moment, like a heavy blanket, obscuring her true emotions, but then she shrugged. She seemed to hesitate, as if she were on the brink of telling me something, something important, but then the moment passed.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, Miz Scarlet, I’ve put a lot of bad guys away in my years on the job. Not all of them wanted to kill me. A couple even proposed.”
“Yes, but this guy hates your guts.”
“Well, I’ll take that under adviseme
“You, too.”
Putting my head back down on the pillow, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to convince myself there was still time to get some more sleep. By the time my alarm went off, I had managed to get another two hours.
Feeling guilty about my nocturnal disturbance, I decided to serve Larry and Mickey a breakfast that would knock their socks off. Tiptoeing down the stairs just after six, I got the bacon cooking on a cookie sheet in the oven, mixed up some pancake batter while the coffee was brewing, and sliced up some bananas in a sauté pan with a little melted butter and some brown sugar. They were nicely caramelized when Mickey wandered into the kitchen.
“What smells so good?” She peeked over my shoulder. “Bacon? My favorite!”
Larry joined us a few minutes later, her long dark hair still damp from her shower. “I’ve got to get a mattress like that. Wow, it’s like sleeping on a cloud!”
“Glad you liked it,” I grinned. “Will pancakes put a smile on your face?”
“That, and an extra five pounds on my butt,” she laughed. “But I’ve learned to eat while the eating is good. Sometimes I don’t even have a chance to sit down for lunch.”
“Well, grab a cup of coffee from the butler’s pantry and pull up a chair at the dining room table.”
“Do I smell bacon?” Max hobbled into the kitchen. “The aroma is heavenly.”
“I thought you were kosher,” Larry remarked.
“I am,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping.
“Will kosher turkey bacon work for you? I took the liberty of making you some, Max, just in case.”
“Aren’t you a doll,” he grinned. He followed Larry to the dining room, with Mickey in tow.
Bur and my mother arrived at quarter to seven, joining the others at the table. Lacey showed up soon after. She was dressed in a green plaid fleece top that had a snowman on the front, a pair of black leggings, and a necklace made of jingle bells.
“Good morning all,” she declared, helping herself to bacon from the platter and a blueberry muffin. “What’s on the schedule today? Do I have a volunteer elf to help me? Say, young lady, you look like you have potential....”
“What’s in it for me?” the teen shot back.
“Are all your gifts wrapped yet?” my mother inquired. “Do you have bows on all your packages?”
“No.”
“Then that’s what’s in it for you. Wait till you see what Lacey bought for this year’s wrapping paper. You won’t want to miss it.”
“What’s so special about your wrapping paper?” the teenager asked. I could see Mickey was intrigued.
“Are you kidding?” my brother laughed. “When was the last time you saw a Chihuahua in a Santa hat? Or a fat squirrel with a candy cane? Or zombies chasing Santa?”
“That sounds awesome. I can’t wait to see Grandpa’s face when I give him his present.”
“Speaking of which....” Bur promised Mickey that she could ride with him to the airport later in the afternoon to retrieve her grandfather. They’d leave for Bradley International right after lunch.
Michaela spent much of the morning behind closed doors in the living room with the Googins girls. I could hear lots of giggling and guffawing every time I walked by.
Once I cleaned up after the breakfast crowd, I filled a Crockpot with the ingredients for minestrone soup, and set it on low to simmer for several hours, and then I got busy making beds and scrubbing toilets. When the rooms were all ready for their occupants, I vacuumed the hall carpet and stairs. I never heard my phone ring. It was only when I was winding the power cord around the machine that I heard that familiar ping. Kenny sent me a text message that made my heart sink. Sorry, babe. The closing for the house has been delayed until Saturday morning. I’ll call you later tonight. Love you. Darn it anyway, I groused to myself, so much for our plans to spend time together. With my luck, we’d have a blizzard on Saturday. I called Larry to let her know Kenny wasn’t available as back-up.
“Ask Max if he can stay another night,” was the short reply. “Tell him I really need this.”
“Right.” Hanging up, I went in search of her former partner. Knocking on the door of the Red Oak Room, I took a step back and waited. It swung open a moment later and I found myself facing a man who was tying his blue-and-gray striped tie.
“What’s up?”
“Can you stay one more night, Max?” I explained Kenny’s dilemma in New Jersey. He flipped the long end of the tie through the loop, adjusted it, and tightened it.
“How do I look?” he wanted to know, not answering my question.
“Handsome. Larry really needs you here,” I continued, wondering if he was ignoring me because he was trying to figure out a way to refuse. It turned out that I was hasty in my expectation of a rejection. Max was still Max, loyal to his former partner.
“No problem. That goes without saying. Any chance I could get a cup of coffee for the road? I’ve got a meeting in an hour.”
“Of course. Thanks.”
“My pleasure, Miz Scarlet.” With a wink, he turned, grabbed his suit jacket and briefcase, and followed me down the hall to the elevator. As we rode the car down to the first floor, it dawned on me that Max, like Bur, had a crush on Larry. Maybe he hoped this stint as bodyguard would put him in her good graces and give him the opportunity to romance her. They weren’t partners now, so there was no longer a taboo on dating. Did Larry even have an inkling of how much Max adored her? For an attractive woman, my good friend was sometimes clueless on matters of the heart. Maybe she had been through too much in her lifetime to ever let her guard down again. Or maybe it was just that the job was so tough, she had lost her faith in humanity.
By nine, Max was ready to head out the door on his way to New Haven for a shortened work day, carrying a thermal mug of hot black coffee for the hour-long ride. He paused by the door, promising to return by five, and then he asked what I was serving for dinner.
“Roasted chicken with the works and grasshopper pie.”
“Excellent. I’m looking forward to it. Do you want my credit card?”
“Credit card?”