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Murder Checks Inn - Tim Myers [2]

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title, since there were just the two of them on staff, but Alex knew he couldn’t run Hatteras West without her. He’d discovered that quickly enough when Elise’s father had suffered a major heart attack, and Elise had been called back to his side. He hoped her parents enjoyed good health for a long, long time. Alex was not at all certain he could go through running the inn by himself again.

“Is it important?” he asked. Alex would never have admitted to her that he’d been eavesdropping, but he couldn’t | help himself. It was one of the fascinations of running the inn, meeting such a vast variety of people.

“I don’t think it can wait,” Elise said as she motioned him to the rear of the building.

When they got to the back hallway, Alex said, “Elise, you aren’t going to believe our newest guests. I was under the impression that this was just going to be a normal family reunion when Jase booked their rooms, but they’re here for the reading of their father’s will. And from the sound of it, nobody but the man’s son is all that upset he’s gone.”

Elise said, “Alex, I honestly don’t care if they’re here to hold a séance to bring him back; they’re paying guests, and we need all of those we can get right now.”

Alex knew too well how true that was. They’d nearly finished rebuilding the Main Keeper’s Quarters a few months before when they’d run out of the money raised from the sale of emeralds found on the property. Unfortunately, Emma Sturbridge, their staff gem hunter, still hadn’t been able to locate the source of the main vein of stones, if in fact one even existed. The original discoverer had taken that secret with her to the grave. Because of that, Hatteras West, so named because of the exact replica of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse built beside the two keepers’ quarters that served as the inn, was heading dangerously close to being in the red again.

Alex asked, “What’s so important?”

“It’s Vernum. I can’t get the man to hold still long enough for me to have one word of conversation with him. You’re the only one he’ll talk to.”

“Is there a problem with him?” Alex asked. Vernum, an older, rail-thin man with a heavy, flowing shock of white hair and a beard that bushed all around his face, had shown up at Hatteras West the week before, offering to do yard work and landscaping in exchange for one meal a day and a place to sleep. Alex had seen Vernum around Elkton Falls for the past few months, one day sweeping the parking lot at Buck’s Grill and the next unloading trucks at Shantara’s General Store. Sheriff Armstrong had talked to Vernum extensively upon showing up in Elkton Falls and had pronounced him harmless.

Alex had turned down the offer of landscaping, though he gave the stranger a good meal before he left. Instead of leaving, though, Vernum grabbed a pruning saw from the storage shed near the lighthouse and transformed some gnarled old oak trees Alex had been meaning to convert into firewood into beautifully sculpted showpieces.

Alex was convinced, and Vernum moved into the shed after refusing to sleep in any of the inn’s empty rooms.

“There’s no problem with Vernum,” Elise explained. “I just hate the thought of him sleeping on a cot out in the shed.”

“It’s his choice, Elise. He seems happy out there. I can’t make him come inside.”

“Would you at least talk to him about it again? He listens to you.”

“I will if I can find him,” Alex said. He knew there was no point arguing with her. Once Elise made up her mind about something, it was nearly impossible to get her to change it. He had to admit she’d come up with many improvements since she’d arrived at the inn, none more popular than the continental breakfasts they now served every morning.

As Alex walked the grounds, he marveled at the work Vernum had done in the short time he’d been at Hatteras West. The unofficial arborist had thinned and pruned the stand of oak and hickory trees that had grown up around the lighthouse’s base, transforming the area into a park-like setting, revealing rather than obscuring the stone and brick foundation. Even the copse of trees between

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