Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Myers [17]
Alex took the bag out of Emma’s hands. “In that case, I’m pleased to have you stay with us. Welcome to Hatteras West.”
After they walked inside and picked up Emma’s key, Alex offered to show her to room 8. She grabbed her suitcase out of his hands and said, “Just point me in the general direction, and I’ll find my own way.”
He gestured down the corridor and watched her easy, loping gate as she headed to her room. Emma Sturbridge’s warmth and charm would be a welcome addition to the guest list at Hatteras West.
What was keeping the sheriff? Alex walked out onto the porch and was rewarded with the view of the ambulance driving up, Armstrong right behind them in his squad car. At least they weren’t traveling with their sirens blaring.
Alex walked out to meet them as they parked. Armstrong pointed the attendants toward the lighthouse, and Alex saw they were carrying a lightweight aluminum stretcher between them. A discreet gray blanket was tucked into the frame. They’d be able to cover Reg’s body on the way out.
The sheriff walked over to Alex. “Anybody disturb the body?”
Alex said, “Not that I know of. It’s been—”
One of the attendants yelled from the lighthouse base, “Hey Sheriff, this place is locked. How are we supposed to get inside?”
Armstrong turned to Alex and said, “I need the key, if you don’t mind.”
Alex took the old-fashioned skeleton key off his ring, handed it over, asking, “Is it a good idea to move the body before the state police get here?”
“Alex, I don’t call the State Bureau of Investigation every time something happens in Canawba County. I can handle it myself. Hold on a second, could you? I want to talk to you. I’ll be right back.”
After handing the key to the attendants, Alex heard Armstrong ask, “You’all need any help?”
“No, we can handle it.”
As they disappeared through the doorway, Armstrong asked, “Have you given any thought as to who could have done this? I’ve got a feeling one of your guests might be a murderer.”
“Come on, Sheriff, you know how many folks from town use the lighthouse as a Stair Master. While you’re naming suspects, you might as well use the county telephone book.”
The sheriff mopped away a line of perspiration that had formed on his brow. The man sweated more than anyone Alex had ever known. Or maybe it wasn’t just the heat; it could be the pressure he was under to solve the case, and solve it quickly. He said, “You’ve got a point about it being anybody, but I figure the only people around here who knew him well enough to want to kill him were guests, too. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
When Alex nodded his agreement, the sheriff continued, “Have you looked around the base of the lighthouse for the knife?”
“I’ve got an inn to run. I haven’t had time to play detective,” Alex said abruptly, feeling guilty that he’d been doing just that.
Armstrong patted Alex on the shoulder. “Take it easy, Alex, I was just asking. Why don’t you take a walk with me around the tower, and we’ll have a chance to talk about what really happened.”
The grass around the tower’s base had just received its monthly trim two days previously. If Reg’s murder had occurred three days earlier, they wouldn’t have been able to find the blade with a metal detector, the weeds had grown so high. Now, it was simple to walk over the manicured grass and search for the weapon.
As they walked, the sheriff discussed the possibilities. “We’ve got several ways we can look at this, Alex. If it was just some random killing, you and your guests are in just as much danger as anybody in town.” Alex tried to say something, but Armstrong held up his hands. “Slow down. I don’t believe this is random for a second. What else have we got? Greed is always an awfully strong motive. I imagine Wellington