Kathi Daley [Daley - The Inn at Holiday Bay: Pilgrim in the Parlor

Milton Standoff was a tall man, with a thin build, long arms and legs, small eyes, and a sharp nose. The first time I met him, I couldnt help but notice that he looked a lot like a stork or maybe a crane. He moved with slow precision, which mimicked his speech and manner. He was an odd fellow, that was for certain, but despite his arrogant manner, dismissive attitude, and razor-sharp way of speaking, I really couldnt understand how hed ended up dead in my parlor.

State your name please, a police officer I didnt recognize instructed. My good friend, Police Chief Colt Wilder, worked out of the tiny satellite office that covered the small town of Holiday Bay, but hed been out of town for a few days, so emergency calls received by his office were routed to the main switchboard in the much larger town southwest of us.

Abagail Sullivan, but you can call me Abby.

And you own this inn?

I nodded. Yes. I own the Inn at Holiday Bay , my inn manager, Georgia Carter, runs the place, and my new employee, Jeremy Slater, lives on the property with his niece, Annabelle. Jeremy helps Georgia with our day-to-day operations. He is the one who discovered Mr. Standoff this morning, and he is the one who called it in. Im sorry. What was your name again?

Officer James.

Are you in town covering for Colt, I mean Police Chief Wilder?

I work out of the regional office, and happened to be in the area when the call came through, so I responded.

I see. I smiled so I would appear appreciative, but I really wished Colt were here. The inn had only been receiving guests for three months, and this was our first dead body. I hoped it would turn out to be our only dead body. So what do you need from me?

I need you to walk me through exactly what happened this morning, the man continued.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and began to speak. Jeremy opened up the inn like he does every morning. He lives in the basement with Annabelle, so it is easy for him to unlock the exterior doors, start fires in the three wood-burning fireplaces located on the first floor, and open the blinds and drapes before he has to leave to take Annabelle to school. As he does every morning, he was performing these chores when he noticed Mr. Standoff laying on the floor in the parlor. He went in to investigate and found the man dead. It appears hes been hit over the head with the pilgrim that we had on display on the fireplace mantel.

Officer James jotted down a few notes while I tried to rein in my sudden need to ramble. Just answer the mans questions, I reminded myself, as I suppressed the urge to go off on a tangent about how I had bought the mansion sight unseen after my husband and son died in an automobile accident and how Id not only found a new start but a new family here in Holiday Bay.

And what time were the exterior doors locked the previous evening? Officer James asked.

Ten oclock. Jeremy always does his walkthrough at ten oclock. He noted that it appeared that all our guests were in for the evening in the logbook we keep when he locked the exterior doors, banked the fires, and dimmed the lights. When he began opening things up this morning, the exterior doors were still locked, and it didnt look as if anyone had accessed them since the previous day, although I suppose it is possible that Mr. Standoff hadnt been in his room during the walkthrough as Jeremy thought.

I assume the guests have access to an exterior door after hours?

I nodded. The back door leading into the kitchen can be opened with the room keys.

Who else, other than you and your guests, has a key to the inn? Officer James asked.

Georgia, of course, and Jeremy. We have a part-time employee who helps with the cleaning. Her name is Nikki. She lives next door and is one of the sweetest people you will ever meet. She would not have killed this man.

Anyone else?

I guess Lonnie has a key.

Lonnie?

Lonnie Parker is my contractor. He oversaw the renovation of this place, and even though that part of the project is complete, he still pops in from time to time to take care of any repairs that might be needed. I can absolutely assure you that Lonnie wouldnt kill anyone.

The officer paused, tapping his pen on his notebook. Someone did.

Well, yes, someone did, but I dont see why any of our guests would have done such a thing. Yes, Mr. Standoff was an arrogant sort whod managed to get on everyones nerves, but to kill him? I just dont see that happening.

Officer James continued to tap his pen against the small pad he held. He had a slow way about him that I found to be very annoying. Finally, he spoke. I understand your need to protect your guests and employees, nevertheless, as Ive already mentioned, someone killed this man. Im going to need information on every employee and each of your guests, beginning with each persons full name and their reason for being in town.

Okay. I took a breath and told him what I could about Georgia, Jeremy, and Nikki.

And your guests? He prompted.

Lets see. A man named Gaylord Godfry is staying in unit six, which is the unit on the top floor in the area which previously served as the attic. He has been with us for more than two months. He is a retired history professor who is in the area to work on his novel.

Officer James jotted down a few notes. Did it seem as if Mr. Godfry had a conflict of any sort with Mr. Standoff?

No. Not really. Well yes, I guess in a way he did.

He looked at me over the top of his pad.

I elaborated. As I already mentioned, Mr. Standoff was an arrogant and generally unlikeable sort. I guess his family has been around since the Mayflower, and apparently, he seemed to think that his lineage provided him with a unique knowledge of all things colonial. He would get into arguments with Gaylord over who settled where, when they settled, and how that particular pattern may have contributed to certain developments in United States history. I took a breath and then continued. Gaylord has a doctorate in history. He taught the subject at a university level for years; whereas Mr. Standoff was nothing more than a washed-up actor in town to direct the annual Thanksgiving pageant. Of course, Gaylord knew more about the actual history of the area and of the United States as a whole than Standoff ever would, but the visiting director was just too arrogant to see it, so the men did spar from time to time.

Spar?

Verbally. Not physically.

In your mind, is it possible that the men may have come downstairs for something to read or perhaps something to drink, and while they were both downstairs, an argument ensued, and Mr. Standoff ended up dead?

No, I answered without hesitation. Gaylord would never kill one of our guests or anyone for that matter just because they were a self-entitled boob. I tapped down my irritation with this line of reasoning and tried to remind myself that Officer James was just doing his job. He didnt know Gaylord the way Id come to know him, so he couldnt know that he was perfectly harmless.