Murder at the Mansion Read Free

garage.
    Daniel moved toward the trailer. “Kelly, do you want help unpacking?”
    â€œNo, thanks. I’m just going to take in the basics I used at the hotels on the drive here for now.”
    Helen started back to the inn. “I need to finish the appetizers for tonight.”
    â€œWhy don’t I pick you both up in an hour?” Daniel asked.
    Helen and I agreed that worked for us.
    Looking around, I decided the best place to leave the trailer was next to the garage. I closed the horse trailer, drove it closer to the building, and parked. I unhitched it and took the Jeep back to the parking lot. I grabbed my backpack and black duffel bag from the backseat and went into the inn through the back door. I entered the large multipurpose room.
    The kitchen area lined one wall, with a counter separating it from the main room. It worked as both a place to eat and a food preparation area. A granite island with stools to accommodate six people stood next to the counter. A large oak table supplied a place to sort papers, lay out numerous contracts, and provided an alternate eating site. A television, overstuffed chairs, and beanbags that could be pulled out for additional seating were off in one corner for leisure moments.
    It was the main room for the inn’s staff activities. The person who designed it had functionality and quality in mind. It was a room you walked into and felt surrounded by comfort. I loved it.
    â€œYour place is open,” Helen called out as she grabbed trays of stuffed mushrooms from the refrigerator.
    â€œThanks.” My place. My wonderful, incredible place.
    Once again my heart raced faster. This time my feet picked up their pace as well.
    The Oriental runner covering the dark wood floor muffled my steps as I walked down the hallway. Ahead, I saw the door to my rooms. I paused a moment, then opened it.
    As I stepped in, I thanked the architect who created the work of art that brought light and nature together in such a spectacular way. Walls of glass framed the rugged coastline. Churning waves, craggy rocks, and a jagged beach stretched out ahead of me. The inn’s lush gardens enclosed the room on one side. The flowers created a riot of color and looked like a painting. Little brown birds—LBBs, as my birder friend called them—landed on a feeder in the yard, so close I could see the distinctive differences in their feather patterns.
    I put my bags on the bench seat next to the wall and went into the miniature kitchen. It was as I remembered. Everything sized for a small unit, except for the large, professional coffeemaker, an important piece of equipment in my boss’s life. I put the makings together for an espresso and started it up. I peeked in the bedroom and was surprised to see a new comforter set. Swirls of green and blue made it one with the view from the front room.
    I pulled a small, buttery-soft leather pouch from my fleece pocket and traced the multicolored beads sewn in a V-shape on the front of it with my finger. I opened it and dropped its contents onto my palm. A miniature black raven looked up at me with its bright blue eye. I studied the meticulously carved, artfully sculpted wings and the lines of the feathers.
    Grandpa had asked me to pick a Zuni fetish from his collection to accompany me on this new path in my life. It had been a difficult decision. Native American lore attributed different meanings to many animals. The badger had the ability to help reach a desired goal. I was excited about my new job and wanted this to be my career, so I was tempted to choose an amber one from the assortment. But I felt pulled to the raven, believed to give its keeper courage to work through problems and face personal fears. In the end I had settled on the black bird.
    I put him on the table next to the bench seat, then curled up on the soft cushions and sipped the coffee. Daniel would be back soon, but I wanted a moment to soak this all in. It was a new