A Fatal Booking Read online

  A Fatal Booking

  A BOOKLOVER’S B&B MYSTERY

  Victoria Gilbert

  For all my friends, old and new

  There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship.

  —Thomas Aquinas

  Chapter One

  The only thing constant in life is change. That’s one lesson I’d learned the hard way.

  Staring out over the Morehead City, North Carolina, harbor, I considered the changes that had taken place in my life over the last few years. I’d not only left my teaching career, I’d also taken over Chapters, the literary-themed B and B I’d inherited from my great-aunt Isabella Harrington.

  A new beginning, I reminded myself.

  But now the past was intruding on my new life—in the form of one of my guests.

  Shading my eyes with one hand, I reframed my thoughts and focused on watching a captain skillfully guide his charter fishing boat into dock. Several people were draped over the boat’s upper deck rail, their skin flushed with too much sun and their expressions conveying exhaustion. I shook my head. I’d never been interested in fishing but knew day trips were popular with visitors to this coastal town.

  A beep from my smart watch pulled me from my reverie. It was time to head inside the restaurant, one of Morehead City’s more popular eateries. I was meeting Lora Kane, an artist who’d once been an instructor at the same high school where I’d taught English. She’d invited me to dinner to discuss the events scheduled for her book club’s upcoming visit to Chapters. The rest of the group would check in on Friday, but Lora had arrived a day early to iron out a few last-minute details.

  I didn’t mind the extra meeting, especially since Lora had insisted on planning the week. Typically, groups left it up to me to arrange the special events, but Lora apparently had very specific ideas in mind. She’d sent me some information so I could stock our pantry and provide recipes for my cook and housekeeper, Alicia Simpson, as well as our part-time chef, Damian Carr. But I still felt a bit at sea. Being an organized person, I preferred to know all the details ahead of time.

  But you must always respect the wishes of the guests, I reminded myself as I adjusted the scooped neckline of my blue-and-white-striped top before I strolled into the restaurant lobby.

  “Charlotte Reed,” I told the hostess. “I’m here to meet with Ms. Kane.”

  “Your party’s already seated,” the young woman said, leading me to a small alcove covered in maritime memorabilia.

  Although I hadn’t seen Lora in over eighteen years, I immediately recognized her. Slender and of medium height, she had luminous dark eyes and walnut-brown hair cut in a sleek bob that just skimmed her jawline. With her porcelain skin and vivid ruby-tinted lips, she could’ve easily played the vamp in a silent movie.

  “Hello,” I said, as Lora rose to greet me.

  “Charlotte, so nice to see you again.” She leaned in to give me a quick hug before stepping back. “You look great. You’ve hardly aged at all.”

  “Thank you, but I think you’re exaggerating.” I patted my feathery cap of brown hair. “I’ve quite a few silver strands now, and then there’s the wrinkles.” I tapped my forefinger at the corner of my eye.

  “Not that many. I mean, we’re both forty-four, right? One has to accept a few crow’s-feet.” Lora inspected me closely before sitting back down. “There’s a sadness in your expression that wasn’t there before, but I suppose that’s to be expected.” She offered me a sympathetic glance over the top of her menu. “I was so very sorry to hear about Brent.”

  “Thanks.” I sat down across the table from her. “It’s been five years.” I took a deep breath. Five years and a lot of changes. “I have adjusted, although of course I still miss him.”

  Lora looked up at me again, her inquisitive expression tempered by a kind smile. “I guess leaving your teaching career and becoming an innkeeper was a way to make a new start after Brent’s death?”

  “Yes, I felt I needed a major change. My great-aunt Isabella thought so too, which is probably why she left Chapters to me in her will.”

  “Do you miss it? The teaching, I mean.”

  “Sometimes.” I swallowed back any further expression of my feelings on that topic. I did miss teaching, more than I liked to admit. “You quit long before I did. Do your ever regret that decision?”

  “Heavens, no.” Lora rolled her eyes. “I was never really cut out for the job, to be honest. Not like you. I always considered you a born teacher, while I only chose to do it because twentysomething me thought being a freelance artist was too scary.”

  “But then you took off for parts unknown.” I fiddled with my fork. “After you left that last day of school, none of us knew where you’d gone.”

  Lora swept one slender hand through the air. “It wasn’t meant to be a big mystery. I just headed to England.” She flashed a bright smile. “I lived in London for a few years as a child, in the early eighties. My dad, who was a lawyer for a shipping company, got posted there.” Her expression sobered. “Dad died about seven years ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. Although I’d met the man only once, at Lora’s lavish wedding, I recalled Lora often talking about her dad during the short time we’d taught together. “I know you two were very close.”

  Lora managed a faint smile. “Yes, we were. Only child, you know. Anyway, I always remembered London as one of the best times in my life, so when I quit teaching, I decided to see if I could go back and recapture the magic.”

  “And did you?” I asked, with a lift of my eyebrows.

  “Somewhat. Of course, I didn’t have much money, so it wasn’t quite as glamourous as I remembered. But I did stumble into an apprenticeship with a jewelry designer, which turned out to be a very happy accident.”

  “You’ve done quite well since then, though, especially with your illustrations.” I examined her calm face with interest. “I’ve seen your work in several of the books my friend Julie stocks in her bookstore.”

  Lora settled back in her chair. “I have a decent number of commissions every year, but it’s really the jewelry that makes me a living.” She lifted one hand to brush back her dark hair, revealing a pair of exquisite earrings. They were a unique design—a peacock in a circle, its tail delicately worked in a filagree of gold and brilliant enamel.

  “Those are gorgeous,” I said. “Your creation, I assume?”

  “One of my more popular items.” Lora lifted her water glass and took a sip. “But we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to discuss the upcoming week of events. First of all, let me say I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me before my group arrives at the B and B.”

  “No problem at all,” I said, glad the conversation had finally focused on the reason for our meeting. I glanced over my own menu briefly, just to make sure the item I wanted was available.

  “Still, for you to allow us to book a week at Chapters at the last minute was very kind.” Lora laid down her menu and settled back into her chair. “When you told me you might not be able to fit us in, my book club was so disappointed.”

  “It was fortunate I had that cancellation.” I snapped my menu shut and placed it across my plate. “Well, not so fortunate at first, but when it turned out I could accommodate your group, I was glad it had happened. The first reservation had nothing to do with Chapters’ literary offerings.”

  “While that was the real draw for us,” Lora said. “What could be better for a book club retreat than a literary-themed B and B with a splendid private library?”

  “It is the perfect combination.”

  Lora nodded. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve done all the planning for this week’s events. I know from your website and brochure that you usually handle such things, but my book club is pretty decisive about what we want to do each year.” She smiled brightly as the waiter approached the table. “I’ll try the soft-shell crab sandwich,” she told him. “I understand that’s a specialty of the house.”

  I gave the waiter my own order, a tuna melt sandwich I’d enjoyed before. “If I understand correctly from the notes you sent, the focus of your event is classic children’s literature.”

  “Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales, in particular,” Lora replied. “Which, I admit, is rather self-serving of me. I just illustrated a new edition of Andersen’s tales, so we’ll be talking about that during our discussions, among other things.”

  “And you’re obviously also celebrating Lewis Carroll, since you requested a Mad Hatter’s tea party,” I said, with a lift of my eyebrows. Alicia had vehemently complained about that particular request. Fortunately, I’d already engaged Damian to help out with the more complicated food offerings, which had mollified Alicia to some extent. “I thought we should hold the tea party on the back patio, near the garden, so I suggest we schedule it for Saturday afternoon. The weather’s supposed to be good this weekend. Unfortunately, since it’s late May, I can’t promise it will hold throughout the week.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Lora’s eyes sparkled with good humor. “Just don’t be shocked when you see what we’re wearing. We’re going to be dressed as some of the Alice characters. It’s a tradition to have one costumed event at our annual get-togethers.”

  “You sound like a very dedicated bunch. How long has your book club been meeting?” I asked, before taking a drink of water.

  “About five years now. We actually met at another book club, one set up by an independent bookstore in Cary, where most of us live. When that
club folded, some of us decided to form a group of our own.” Lora brushed back her hair, displaying the lovely earrings again. “We came together as readers, first and foremost, since we have little else in common. Although, full disclosure, our oldest member, Arnold Dean, and I have known each other for years. He and my father were both lawyers, and great friends. Arnie’s actually my godfather. He’s the one who invited me to the bookstore club in the first place.”

  I swirled the water in my tumbler. “That’s nice. A little cross-generation bonding over books.”

  “Something like that,” Lora said. “The rest of our group is an equally eclectic bunch. There’s every age group—from Linnea Ruskin, who’s in her late twenties, to Arnie, who’s seventy-five.” Lora tugged gently on one of her earrings. “Linnea’s an art teacher, by the way. Reminds me of myself at that age, although she seems to enjoy teaching more than I ever did. Anyway, I’m actually training her how to make jewelry. Sort of an apprentice, I guess you could say.”

  I examined Lora’s perfectly composed face, curious why she’d felt compelled to share that tidbit. Wanting to let me know she hasn’t totally abandoned teaching, perhaps? “You said there were five of you. Which is ideal, given the number of suites at Chapters. No one has to share.”

  “And, as I mentioned in one of our phone calls, there won’t be any children or spouses tagging along. We only allow actual book club members to attend our retreats. It’s meant to be an escape from everyday life.”

  “Always a good idea, every now and then,” I said, my attention diverted by the waiter approaching our table. “Here’s our food. Why don’t we save any more business talk until after we enjoy these lovely meals?”

  After Lora polished off her crab sandwich and sweet potato fries, she took a moment to rave about how delicious they were before sliding a piece of paper from her purse. “I thought you might want to double-check the names of all the guests,” she said, passing the paper to me.

  As my gaze flitted over the page, I noted a discrepancy. “I see six names here. I thought the plan was for no one to share a room?”

  Lora set down her glass of iced tea. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to confuse you. There are only five guests staying at Chapters. The sixth person lives in New Bern and is planning to drive over for the events.”

  “Really? It’s a good forty minutes each way, and that’s without traffic.”

  “I don’t think Stacy minds the drive. She wanted to participate but couldn’t leave her business for an entire week.” Lora waited until I’d folded the list and tucked it into my shoulder bag before adding, “She owns a jewelry store in New Bern. She used to live in Cary, which is how she originally became a member of our group, but closed her shop there and moved her entire business to New Bern. Even though she can’t come to our monthly meetings now, she likes to be involved with any retreats and such.” Lora shrugged. “She carries a lot of my designs, so I do like to accommodate her if I can.”

  “It’s fine. I just like to be sure of the numbers when it comes to parties and dinners. We never want to run short of food or drink.”

  “Of course not. That’s a criminal offense in the South, isn’t it?” Lora grinned. “Stacy won’t be around for breakfasts, of course, even though she does plan to attend all the other events.” Giving me a conspiratorial glance, Lora added, “I’m a little surprised she decided to join us this week, because she’s embroiled in a running feud with at least one of the guests and on the outs with a couple others.”

  “Oh dear, I hope that won’t cause any unpleasantness for you,” I said. “Who’s she feuding with?”

  “Vonnie Allen. I don’t know all the details, just that it’s connected to Vonnie’s son. Something to do with him being accused of something Vonnie swears he didn’t do.” Lora shook her head. “I hope to get to the bottom of it one of these days, if only to make peace in the group, but neither woman is willing to talk to me about the situation.”

  “I’ll try to stay out of that quarrel, trust me.”

  “Just as well.” Lora’s voice rose as a busboy cleared a nearby table. “Actually, a word to the wise—in general it’s best to be careful what you say around Stacy Wilkin. She’s not a bad person, but she’s a terrible busybody. She’ll pester you for all the details if she thinks you’re harboring a secret.”

  A crash resounded through the alcove. Lora and I turned to stare at an adjacent table, where a weathered-looking middle-aged man had leapt to his feet and knocked his chair back onto the floor.

  The man strode over to our table. “Did I hear you say something about Stacy Wilkin?” he demanded, his hazel eyes blazing with fury. “You know her?”

  “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I replied, fixing him with the stare I’d been told could silence even the most belligerent teenager.

  Lora, clutching her purse against her chest, opened and shut her mouth without saying a word, although a little squeak escaped her lips.

  “It’s definitely my business.” As the man crossed his arms over his chest, I noticed he had the ropy muscles of someone who did physical labor. “It’s all about my business, in fact.”

  And the permanent tan of someone who works on the water, I thought, examining his lined face. Based on his sturdy build, straight back, and chestnut-brown hair, I suspected he was in his late fifties, even though he had the wrinkles of an older man. “And what is your business, Mr.…?” I allowed my words to trail off but kept my gaze locked on his face.

  “Captain Sam Joiner,” he said, meeting my stare with a defiant lift of his square chin. “I own a few charter fishing boats. And if this Stacy Wilkin is the same person, she and her worthless boyfriend ripped me off a few years ago.”

  Lora’s eyes widened. “Did they skip out without paying you? That doesn’t sound like Stacy.”

  Sam Joiner snorted. “Worse than that. They rented one of my smaller boats, claiming they knew what they were doing. The boyfriend even flashed something that looked like a boating license.” His eyes narrowed. “But when they took the boat out, they ended up beaching it on a sandbar. Tore up the bottom so bad, I had to have the blasted thing rebuilt. Then they skipped out of town. They never paid me the second part of their rental fee or anything for the repairs.”

  “You didn’t take them to court?” An unconscious reflex made me curl my fingers around my knife. I lifted my fingers when I realized what I’d done.

  “I did, but they claimed it was my fault. Said I hadn’t kept the boat in proper condition.” The fire flashing in Sam Joiner’s eyes told me this was the worst offense. “Their fancy lawyer trashed my reputation, and I ended up paying all the court fees on top of everything else.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said mildly. “It certainly doesn’t sound fair.”

  “But that wouldn’t have been Stacy’s fault,” Lora blurted out. “That man she was dating was a total loser. She dumped him as soon as she realized his true colors.”

  Sam Joiner turned his piercing gaze on her. “Not surprised, but that doesn’t excuse everything. You don’t know …” He rubbed his fist under his right eye. “Never mind,” he said, in a calmer tone. “I shouldn’t have gone off like that. It was just—hearing that name brought up a lot of bad memories.”

  Lora eyed him with distrust. “I hope you aren’t looking to make trouble, Captain Joiner.”

  “Not if your friend stays out of my sight.” The captain’s anger had evaporated, only to be replaced with something more concerning.

  I examined him, my eyes narrowed. I’m not convinced he’s telling the absolute truth. Or at least, he’s not sharing the whole story. “I think perhaps the better option would be for you to stay away from Ms. Wilkin. If it is the same person, which I doubt.”

  “Staying at that fancy bed-and-breakfast in Beaufort, is she?” Sam Joiner narrowed his eyes. “I recognize you, Ms. Reed, even if you don’t know me. Heard you took over Isabella Harrington’s old place.” He tapped his temple with one finger. “Overheard you all talking about guests, and I have to assume they’re staying at Chapters.”

  I didn’t bother to ask how he knew Isabella. I’d learned almost everyone in the region over a certain age knew of her, even if they’d never met. She’d spent years cultivating her social butterfly cover, and once she’d turned her home into a B and B, she’d also extensively promoted its charms throughout the area.