Corpses & Conmen (Rosewood Place Mysteries Book 2) (16 page)

Annie stepped into the small office prepared for chaos, but she was pleased that very little seemed to be disturbed, for the most part. The formerly closed up little room greeted her with an earthy fragrance that she didn’t expect, and although it didn’t exactly stink, it didn’t smell like it should. Annie made a mental note to clean the rug that sat beneath her chair just in case TigerLily had used it for a potty while she’d been trapped in the office.

The garbage had been overturned again, but Annie had kept her desk free of loose papers that the kitty was so fond of scattering. As she picked up the empty cup that once held pens and pencils (which were scattered all over the floor of the little room,) Annie noticed a package on the floor.

She suddenly remembered sending Rory in with two packages, but when Annie looked around the office, she could only find one. “Hmm, that’s strange,” she said aloud. Annie had long ago given up the notion that talking to one’s self was anything odd. If it was a sign of madness, she was too far gone into the land of loony to care. She picked up the package and hefted it between her hands, trying to guess what was inside.

It was the smaller of the two packages, if she remembered correctly. She tried to think back to her order, but it had been a couple of weeks since she’d completed it online. Maybe it was the new phone case and required reading book she’d ordered for Devon? It could have been pencils, pens, and index cards, too. She almost shoved the box into a drawer for later, but something odd on the label caught her eye.

The white address label stood out in stark contrast against the dirty brown cardboard box. It looked like the kind of sticky label that you could find in any office supply store, the kind with rounded edges and usually lackluster stickiness. Sure enough, this label was already peeling at the edges, giving it a dirty, cheaper look than she’d expect from one of the big stores that she usually ordered from.

The upper part of the label was jagged, torn in transit, no doubt. Annie could clearly read the words ‘In Care Of Annie Richards’ right before the address, but there
had been
something else printed just above that. Curiosity got the better of her, and she reached for the scissors in her desk drawer. With a flick and a slice, she cut through the packaging tape that held the box closed. Styrofoam peanuts fell out like little fat snowflakes and drifted onto the floor around her.

Beneath the styrofoam was a filmy layer of tissue paper, and Annie’s brain strained to think of what she’d ordered that could have possibly required such protective packaging. She tipped the foam peanuts onto her desk and lifted the tissue paper to reveal a small mahogany-colored box with what looked like a cheap mother-of-pearl inlaid design on the lid. It was about as big as a cigar box and opened much the same way.

“What on earth are you?” she asked the little box as she slipped it out of its packaging. The box glinted under the ceiling lights. Annie opened it up and admired the pretty green felt inside.
A jewelry box.
She sniffed the wood, wondering if the box had been what she smelled when she’d entered the room, but the box didn’t really have any scent to it, apart from the metallic tang of the metal hinges and the nondescript greenness of whatever cheap wood had been used to make it.

A sudden, horrible thought filled Annie’s head. Hadn’t she been told to expect a package for Mr. Ross? And hadn’t he told her himself that it would contain a gift for his mother? Possibly even a jewelry box like the one she now held in her hands, that she’d opened, unwrapped, and
sniffed
, of all things?

“Crap.” Annie used the edge of her shirt to wipe her very visible fingerprints from the outside of it, then placed it carefully back into the box, wrapped in the tissue paper. She crammed the foam peanuts back inside, then put the entire box into her deepest desk drawer and locked it.

She’d have to call Emmett. He’d definitely need to know that she’d received the anticipated package, and she’d have to confess to him that she’d opened it, which she was sure was some sort of federal offense. With a groan, Annie placed her head down on her desk and let out a long, frustrated sigh.
Well
, she thought,
I suppose Marie can do her seance now.

Rory ran the water in the guest bathroom sink until he was satisfied that he’d cleared the blockage that Annie had asked him to fix. Annie admired him for tackling the plumbing jobs--he was a carpenter, not a plumber--but he wasn’t afraid to take on most of the minor plumbing issues they’d had at the old plantation farmhouse, and they’d certainly had more than their share.

“I think that’ll do it,” he told her. “Just drop a hint to Kizzy that makeup sponges do not belong in drains,” he added, tossing a blackened sponge into the trash.

“I’m sure it was an accident,” Annie defended her guest. “And you’ve got it all fixed now, so let’s just leave it.” She held her hand out to take the empty bucket he was trying to juggle along with a toolbox, plunger, and bottle of vinegar, which they’d used with some baking soda to flush the sink’s drain after the blockage was cleared. Rory handed her the bucket but kept everything else. Annie noticed that he had a hard time letting people help him with things, which was silly since he helped practically everyone who asked him for help and sometimes those who didn’t.

They carried the things downstairs and out to the barn, which had become Rory’s temporary headquarters. He had repaired a few minor leaks in the barn’s roof and now the building was the ideal place for him to stash his tools and ongoing repair projects. One such project--a new spindle for the staircase’s banister--sat in a lathe in one corner of the barn. Annie loved to peek in and see what Rory was working on at any given time. She rarely told him what to repair or replace, just let him get on with keeping the place looking and functioning beautifully.

“So, I received a package,” she said casually, passing the empty bucket to him so he could hang it from a nail on the wall of the barn.

“Another one? What’s that, like three in two days? Gotta stop that late night shopping,” he teased.

“No, this was one of the ones we picked up the other day. Did you put them both in my office, by the way? I could only find one of them.”

Rory nodded. “I sat them both on your desk, the little one on top. Why?”

“Well, I only found one of them, the smaller one,” she added. “Anyway, I opened it.”

Rory looked at her, waiting for further clarification. “And?”

“I don’t think I was supposed to,” she said, lowering her voice despite the fact that they were alone. “Rory, I think I opened Lou Ross’s package by mistake.”

It took Rory a moment to digest what she’d just said. “You what? Annie, you know that opening someone else’s mail is a federal offense, right?”

She put her face in her hands. “I didn’t know it was his package,” she said through her fingers. “The label was torn and my name was written on there, too. You know, ‘in care of’?” She pushed her hands through her hair and lifted it off her neck. She wished she’d put it up in a ponytail while she’d been in the house because the heat and humidity outside was making it stick to her.

“Well, that’s probably alright, then,” he reasoned. “If your name was on the package, you’re probably okay.” He cocked his head to one side. “So, what was inside?”

She blushed. “It was a jewelry box. He did say he was having something delivered for his mother,” she added. “You want to hear something weird?” Rory nodded. “The return address on the package was Lou’s home address. At least, it was the home address he gave me when he booked his room.”

“So?”

“Well, why would he mail something to himself from himself? I mean, I could understand ordering something online and having it delivered to wherever you were staying, but mailing something to yourself from home? Don’t you think that’s really odd?”

“Yeah, I do.” Rory had been leaning against the wall of the barn, but now he stepped away from it towards Annie. “Why would you mail something to yourself when you could just pack it up in your luggage?”

Annie thought about the state of Lou’s car. Emmett had told them that it had been ransacked, torn apart in someone’s search for
something
. “Maybe he was worried that someone would find the box. Remember, Emmett told us that someone had been looking for something inside Lou’s car the night he died. What if Lou Ross expected someone to be searching for that box, so he hid it by mailing it to himself?”

Rory thought about this for a minute. “Well, he sure didn’t expect someone to kill him, did he? I mean, he brought the dog with him. You wouldn’t do that if you thought you were going to be murdered.” He wiped the sleeve of his shirt, brushing away some dirt. “You know you’re going to have to call Emmett and tell him about this.”

“Yeah, I know. I almost just want to tape it back up and forget I ever opened it,” she admitted. “But I think I have a better plan.”

Annie had been thinking about her mother’s request to let Marie perform a seance. She hadn’t really been entertaining the idea seriously until she’d noticed the return address on the package. Her mind had been working overtime, considering all the reasons why a man might want to send something as unimportant as a cheap jewelry box to himself in the mail. When she’d recalled the state of Lou’s car after his body was found, the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. Someone wanted something that Lou had, and if they’d found it, one of her guests would probably have checked out by now.

“Someone wanted something in Lou’s car, right?” She waited for Rory to nod before she continued. “I’m thinking that if they found what they were looking for, they would have just left by now, right? I mean, that is if the person who searched the car is the same person who killed Lou Ross.

“So, if the killer didn’t find what they were looking for, maybe they stayed because they either didn’t want to look suspicious or maybe they thought they might just find whatever it was they were searching for if they kept looking long enough.”

Rory’s eyes told Annie that he was mulling this scenario over. “But why stay if they weren’t sure that the mystery item would even turn up? I mean, that’s a long shot, right?”

“What if they had no plans after leaving here? What if they didn’t really know their next move, but just needed a few days to lay low? If they weren’t already a suspect, why would they do something as suspicious as to cancel their vacation halfway through?” Annie knew that her suspicions were a long shot, but her gut was telling her that the killer was still at the house.

“So how does the package help us figure out who killed Lou Ross?”

Annie grinned. “We can use it to lure out whoever killed him,” she answered confidently.

Rory crossed his arms. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“We’ll let my mother talk to the dead man.” She grinned at the absurdity of what she’d just said, and Rory’s confused expression was priceless. “I mean, we’ll let her and Marie have a seance to communicate with Lou and see just who’s interested in the whole process. I’m betting that once the killer finds out we have a package that Lou
mailed to himself
, they’ll come creeping out of the woodwork trying to find out what’s inside,” she finished.

Rory pursed his lips, trying to think of an argument against her idea, but he had to admit, it sounded pretty good. “You’ve got to tell Emmett,” he countered, “but otherwise, that crazy plan might just help the police figure out who killed Mr. Ross.”

Annie smiled. “It might just help them catch them, too. Now I just have to go let my mother know that she can have her little spiritual communication session, and I have to make sure all the guests know that the dead guy got a package in the mail.”

Rory shook his head in mock disbelief and grinned at Annie. “That sounds like a plan, Annie Purdy, and a darned good one, too.”

They headed out of the barn and back towards the house. Annie felt certain that she could figure out who killed Lou Ross once she saw her guests’ reactions to her revelation about the package. She just hoped Emmett wouldn’t be too mad at her for taking things into her own hands in order to do so.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that Emmett Barnes was completely smitten with Bessie Purdy, Annie would have never even considered using the dead man’s jewelry box to try and tease out his killer. Since the Chief of Police was so fond of Annie’s mother, she felt at liberty to ask him outright if she could ‘borrow’ Lou Ross’s package in order to carry out her plan.

Of course, to anyone else, the idea would seem ludicrous and incredibly foolish, especially since there was no way of knowing how Lou’s killer might react. However, Annie had begun to realize that life was too short for being sensible. She’d wasted many years in a ‘sensible,’ loveless marriage with a man who had, in the end, carried on his own fantastically impractical love affair right behind Annie’s back.

Buying Rosewood Place had been Annie’s first big risky act after she became a widow, but something told her that it wouldn’t be her last. While she wasn’t precisely ready to don leathers and join a motorcycle gang, or jump out of any airplanes, for that matter, she was beginning to feel that being a rebel
sometimes
could be a wonderful thing.

Because Emmett wouldn’t want to see his darling Bessie’s only child thrown in jail for such a tiny thing as opening a package that wasn’t strictly hers, Annie felt fairly confident about sharing her plan with him. She hadn’t felt confident enough to actually do that in person--telephones were great for the cowardly advancement of bold plans--but she did at least let him know what she was planning, which kept her on the right side of the law, as far as she was concerned.

“Hmmm.” That was the first and only thing that Emmett said after Annie’s brief, breathless explanation of her plan. She could practically hear him twisting his mustache while he thought of how to reply, and she imagined him fussing at the facial hair so much that it would eventually just fall off altogether.

“Well, Annie, you know that tampering with someone else’s mail--especially mail belonging to a murder victim in an ongoing murder investigation--is bad juju. Plus, it’s illegal. However, since your name was on the package, we’ll say, for speculating purposes, that it would be fine, under normal circumstances.” She could tell he was trying to talk himself into allowing her to carry out her plan, but she worried that he would talk himself right out of it.

“Emmett, I promise I will keep an eye on the box. I don’t even have to open it for the seance.” The absurdity of what she’d just said made her want to laugh, but she held it in.

Emmett sighed loudly on the other end of the phone line. “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you taped the darned thing back up as if you never touched it, or the fact that you’re letting that crazy woman fool your mama into thinking she can talk to dead people.” He paused, trying to think of a gentle way to phrase his next statement. “You do know what’s next, don’t you? She’ll have your mama thinking that she can talk to your daddy again.” The accusation was a gentle one, but Annie felt its sting just the same.

“Emmett, I can’t help what my mother believes, and although I doubt very seriously that Marie Robichaud can do any of the things she claims she can, she could help us lure out the murderer. If any of my guests start acting, well, weirder than they already do now,” she promised him, “We’ll know who killed Lou Ross.”

Annie had ended the call feeling fairly positive about the whole situation. Emmett hadn’t threatened to come and arrest her or even confiscate the package, though he did tell her that she shouldn’t let anyone touch the jewelry box itself or damage the package. She supposed that the box’s origins might yet have clues about Lou’s past and those poor victims he scammed out of money.

Emmett had told her that most of his leads--including those from the laptop, which had been accessed but had proved frustratingly free from any helpful information--had led to dead ends. Lou Ross, it seemed, had also been Jerry Garrity, Emile DePascal, and Bob Smith at various points in time. As for his victims, those still remained a mystery, though Emmett still held out hope that he could identify a few by comparing them to police records in other states.

Annie wondered about the accomplice that had been working with Lou. Did anyone at Rosewood Place seem like the type of person who could lie and cheat innocent people out of their money?

Her mind drifted back to Frank Martin. A nagging thought reminded her that if he had killed Lou out of anger and revenge, the seance wouldn’t necessarily tell her that. But would he be uncomfortable with the idea of Marie talking to the man’s ghost and asking about his murder?

Annie reached down and unlocked her desk drawer to verify that the package was still inside. It was, but she felt very anxious about keeping it in the office. If anyone were to come inside--and she was sure that people had been in here without her permission because they kept letting that darned cat in--the box would be vulnerable. She imagined the drawer’s lock was simple enough to pick, but she didn’t really have a better place to hide it, did she?

Annie closed the drawer and locked it once again. She’d have to just make sure that no one came into the office, and that would mean keeping the guests together and entertained until Marie could organize the seance. She picked up the clipboard with the guest information on it. Tomorrow Rob and Kizzy were due to check out. Mr. Alexander would leave, too. She realized that she’d never organized the cookout that she’d wanted to have for her guests. There was no time like the present, she supposed, and she’d already started mentally making her shopping list as she backed out of the little office and locked the door behind her.

She could hear Bessie in the kitchen, humming loudly and moving things around. The older woman didn’t hear her daughter approach, and she jumped when she turned to find her giggling quietly. “Oh, for goodness sake! You scared me to death, just standing there like that!” She put her hand on her chest for dramatic effect. “Make a little noise, next time, will you?”

“Sorry, Mama. I thought you heard me. Listen, I want to run something past you.” Annie pulled out a chair at the small dining table that sat on one side of the kitchen and motioned for her mother to sit. She sat down opposite her and put her hands palm-down against the cool surface of the table. “I’ve been thinking that we should do this seance thing after all. I talked to Emmett and Rory and they both agree that it could help us shake things up a little, maybe draw out Lou Ross’s killer.”

Bessie’s face shifted through a few emotions. Happiness, relief, slight embarrassment, and finally confusion. “But what about the package? Did Emmett agree to let you use that? Marie said we’d need something that definitely belonged to the dead man in order for her to contact him.”

“It’s all been cleared by Emmett, but with one caveat. He says we have to make absolutely sure that nobody opens up the package or messes with it in any way.”

“What do you think is in there?” Bessie asked.

Annie hated lying to her mother, but she didn’t want her to know that she’d opened the box by mistake. “Whatever it is, I’m hoping that it lures the killer out.” She explained her theory about the murderer looking for something in Lou’s car and being unable to find it.

Bessie nodded her head. “I guess it makes sense. It might raise suspicion if you left an inn because a complete stranger died accidentally while you were there. But, what if the killer wasn’t looking for something that belonged to Lou? What if the killer was someone else, like one of his victims?”

Annie was caught off-guard by her mother’s statement. “I thought you said that you didn’t think the Martins were capable of doing something like that?”

Bessie looked flustered. “Not the Martins, just Frank. Annie, he has a terrible temper. Doris told me that he used to be so calm and peaceful, but since their incident last year he’s been just awful. She told me that he practically got into a fistfight with a co-worker just a few months ago and that’s part of the reason why they want to move so far away. They need a fresh start.”

Annie’s gut tightened, trying to feel out her mother’s suggestion. Yes, Frank could very well have killed Lou Ross, but then again, so could any of the other guests.

“And, of course, there’s always the possibility that the killer wasn’t even one of our guests,” Bessie added, though neither of the women actually believed that to be true.

“So you think it’s a bad idea to have a seance?” Annie was beginning to get very flustered and frustrated with her mother.

“Oh, no, I think it’s a good idea!” Bessie explained. “I just think it’s also good to look at every single possibility. I adore the Martins, and I would completely understand where Frank was coming from if it was he who killed Mr. Ross,” she reassured her daughter. “But, I just can’t for the life of me see any of our other guests being so, well, so murderous!” Bessie threw her hands up in frustration.

“I was also thinking that we should invite all of our guests to participate in the seance.” Annie continued from her original declaration. “If everyone here knows that Lou left something that he valued, then it might tempt the killer to show their hand.”

Bessie shook her head. “Or it might just drive us to ruin,” she said grimly. “Marie told you that the fewer people involved, the better. Besides, do you really expect someone like Mr. George to get involved in a seance? Or Frank, for that matter? And I know that Rob will just laugh at us,” she added, a flush of crimson dotting her pale cheeks. Annie knew that her mother wanted to believe in Marie’s abilities, but she also knew that Bessie was ashamed of herself for wanting to believe something so unbelievable.

“Let’s let our guests decide if they want to participate. I’m planning a last minute dinner--a cookout--for tonight. We’ve got a few guests who are leaving tomorrow and I thought that after the week we’ve had, it might be nice to have a casual meal together before, well, before we let Marie do her thing.”

Bessie glanced around the kitchen in mild horror. “But, I’ve nothing planned for a cookout!”

“We were having meatloaf anyway, so let’s just use that ground beef for burgers and throw on a couple of packs of hot dogs. I can send Rory to the store for anything we don’t have, and you won’t have to cook,” she added cheerfully. “Sound good to you?”

Bessie relaxed a little upon hearing that Annie had everything planned out. “I suppose I could make a peach cobbler,” she replied slowly. “I guess it’ll have to do.”

Annie bit back a laugh at her mother’s irritability. Bessie struggled to give up control of the cooking duties, and Annie suspected it had more to do with her mothering instinct than it did with her actual love of cooking.

“I’ll let everyone know that we’ll eat at six. Why don’t you tell Marie she can use the dining room for her, umm, ritual? I’ll set up the food on the back veranda, buffet-style. People can just help themselves.”

“Are you going to tell them about Marie’s plan?” Bessie asked, hoping that Annie would be the one to tell the guests so that she wouldn’t have to do it herself. It was one thing to want to see the psychic’s abilities in action, but quite another to admit to everyone else that she actually might believe in them.

“Okay, yeah, I can tell them,” Annie conceded. “You just find out what Marie needs and we’ll make sure this goes off as smoothly as possible.”

It didn’t take long to get Rory on board with the afternoon’s plan. His only response to her confirmation that the seance would definitely happen was a shaking head and hearty chuckle. “I guess that’s one way to lure out a killer,” he joked. After he’d left for the grocery store with Annie’s shopping list and Devon riding along for company, Annie returned her attentions to the house. The sitting room bustled with activity as Frank and Doris showed Kizzy and Bessie a selection of photos and printouts from their day of househunting. Doris seemed to have several houses that she loved; Frank seemed more enamored with the blue plate special he’d eaten at the Barbecue Shack.

With half of her guests in the same place all at once, Annie decided to mention the evening’s planned events.

“I hope you all saved some room for some home-cooked hamburgers,” she announced, trying to sound as cheerful and relaxed as possible. “We’re cooking outside this evening and have a full spread. I thought it might be nice to have one last big hurrah before you all start heading off back to your homes,” she explained.

“Oh, that sounds lovely!” Doris intoned, “doesn’t it, dear?”

Frank nodded enthusiastically. “Can’t say I’ll complain about eating so well,” he laughed.

“And afterward, for those who are interested,” she continued, measuring her words carefully, “Marie will be showing us what she does for a living.”

Annie expected some confusion after she made her statement, but she didn’t expect the complete silence that filled the room. Even Bessie kept quiet, which was completely out of character for her mother.

Kizzy finally broke the stillness. “Oh, wow! You mean she’s going to do a seance?” Annie realized that the blonde wasn’t as ditzy as she looked. “Do you actually believe in that?”

Annie smiled at her guests. “I’m not really sure what I believe,” Annie admitted, “but she seems convinced that she can communicate with Mr. Ross and find out more about how he died. I know that some of you may not want to participate, so I wanted to be upfront about the whole thing beforehand.”

Kizzy thought over Annie’s response for a moment. “Count me in,” she replied finally. “I would love to know how that guy ended up in your pond. I mean, the police won’t let me have my phone back, since it’s technically evidence, so I might as well get something out the whole thing, right? It might be fun.”

Annie expected Doris and Frank to protest, but to her complete surprise, Doris was excited by the prospect of watching Marie communicate with the dead man. “Oh, it’s just like one of those television movies where the psychic solves the crimes! I love those--count me in!”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Count me out. I’ve got better things to do than listen to some phony psychic mumbling and moaning to the ‘spirit world.’ No thanks, Annie. I’ll just hang out with the normal people, thanks.”