Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Myers [2]
The maid’s face lit up. “Oh would you?” With the glimmer of a smile, she added, “I’ll be happy to call Mordecai for you.”
So that was the reason she’d been pleased about the boiler trouble; it was another chance for her to see Mor. It was obvious by the way Marisa doted on him that she had a crush on the handyman. Marisa was the only person in Elkton Falls who didn’t call Mor by his nickname. Les was the founder and older partner, Lester Williamson. Everyone around town had called them Mor or Les for years, so the two men finally decided to adopt the name officially for their business.
“You do that,” Alex told her. “Tell him it’s the boiler again.” As an afterthought, he added, “You might want to mention that if he doesn’t get over here soon, there’ll be no money to pay last month’s bill.”
Alex used every weapon at his disposal to keep the inn open. He’d robbed Peter so many times to pay Paul, Pete was getting absolutely gun-shy.
He followed Marisa out of the mechanical equipment room and walked to the inn’s front desk. The check-in space was located in the annex lobby, an area devoted to padded easy chairs, a television and a welcoming fireplace. There were game boards set up along the expanse of front windows where guests could try their hand at Checkers, Chess, Backgammon and Scrabble, though the letter game had become a true challenge ever since an eight-year-old had taken every “E” in the set home with him after his family’s visit to the inn.
Marisa stopped to primp her hair in front of a mirror that hung behind the desk before making the call to the handyman. Alex shook his head in bewilderment and took out his master key as he walked to room 10.
Reginald Wellington Senior had been staying there since the days when Alex’s father had first opened the inn. For the last two weeks of every September as long as Alex could remember, the older man had occupied the replica of the main keeper’s room, lording over the lighthouse like a formidable station master. Alex had a soft spot in his heart for the kindly man. Reg knew more about lighthouses than anyone Alex had ever met, and he hadn’t been stingy with his knowledge while Alex had been growing up. The two of them were great friends, sharing a passion that transcended the difference in their ages. This year the senior Wellington had finally persuaded his only son to come along with him on his annual sojourn. Alex didn’t care for Junior’s stuffed-shirt disposition, but he tried to be polite for Reg’s sake.
Alex tapped on the guest room door with a knuckle. “Reg? Are you in there?” He was certain the board members of Wellington Senior’s company would be shocked to hear anyone refer to the patriarch as Reg, but it had been a tradition between the two of them since Alex first began to talk.
A hint of concern swept through him. Alex suddenly realized that he had no idea how old Reginald Wellington was. Like the ancient pines and oaks surrounding Alex’s land, the man was ageless in his eyes. Reg was as solid and enduring as the granite of Bear Rocks, a conclave of boulders that abutted the lighthouse and was part of his property.
Another knock, and still no response. Alex raised his
voice, as Reg had most likely removed his hearing aid before lying down for his nap. “Get decent. I’m coming in.”
Alex slid his pass key into the lock.
Reg wasn’t there. In and of itself, that didn’t mean anything, but Alex was still concerned. The older man took a nap every afternoon at precisely the same time, and according to Alex’s watch, Reg should have only just awakened. He looked carefully around the room. The bed was neatly made, due more to Reg’s fastidiousness than Marisa’s. As a housekeeper, Marisa was an excellent crier.
The main keeper’s chamber, like every other guest room at the inn, featured floors, walls and ceilings made entirely of rich yellow Southern pine. The wood had mellowed over the years to a golden patina, making the space warm and cozy. The windows, large and abundant to catch the cooling breezes of the mountains, were trimmed in white, offering an