A Crossworder's Holiday by Nero Blanc Read Free Book Online Page A

landing that Belle paused to look out the window. The snow had ceased and morning had officially arrived, but the sky remained leaden and threatening. She gazed at the drifts so freshly formed, at the evergreens shrouded in white, at the inn’s drive and car park, which had disappeared save for the guests’ and owners’ vehicles looking like so many ice cream boats topped with whipped cream. As the window began to steam up, she wiped it with her sleeve, then suddenly gasped.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œSnowshoe tracks.”
    Rosco followed her glance. “Entering the rear of the inn … no, entering one of the attached outbuildings … walking in —not out. ”
    Both craned their necks to see further.
    â€œUnless the person used another exit, we’ve got ourselves a visitor,” Rosco said.
    â€œY OU mean a visitor in addition to you and our other guests? There’s another person here?” Frank Finney stared at Rosco in utter bewilderment. They were removed from the rest of the party, and talking in hushed, tense tones in the service pantry.
    â€œBelle and I examined every view from the second-floor windows. The snowshoe tracks come toward the inn; they don’t walk away.”
    â€œBut who would come up here during a storm?”
    Rosco decided it was time to take Finney into his confidence. “I have reason to suspect that Jaffe may not have died from natural circumstances.”
    The inn’s host didn’t speak for several long minutes. Rosco could see his shoulders droop, and his carefully groomed mustache twitch with an effort at courage and resolution before sagging into nervous dejection. “I can’t afford that kind of publicity. It’s bad enough if a guest dies under normal conditions …” He looked at Rosco again, his once ruddy cheeks pale and slack, his princely demeanor crushed. “Are you suggesting a murderer found his way up here, and is hiding somewhere among us?”
    Rosco didn’t supply an answer to the question. There was no need. Instead he said, “Do you know if Jaffe had enemies who wanted to see him dead?”
    â€œYou’d have to ask his wife or his friends. I only knew Gene as an affable guest—a once-a-year guest. I gather last night’s festivities witnessed some unpleasantness pertaining to a joint business venture. I believe Gene was planning to sell out to the Moon-Bean chain, but that’s as much as I know.”
    â€œIf someone entered surreptitiously, are there places to hide?”
    Finney gave a defeated groan. “In an old building like this—with the barn attached to the house, with the root cellar attached to that? There are places even I haven’t fully explored yet.” He shook his head slowly. “This is a nightmare.”
    Rosco thought. “Do these particular guests always opt for the same accommodations during their visits?”
    â€œYou mean, would an outsider be able to learn which room the Jaffes use?”
    Rosco nodded while Finney’s brooding silence gave Rosco the information he did—and didn’t—want.
    â€œYes,” Finney finally admitted. “They always take the same room—as the guest register indicates.”
    It now seemed logical that the killer had entered one of the attached outbuildings, crept into the residence, found the Jaffes’ room, then retreated to his hiding place. How this person had intended to avoid Marcia, Rosco didn’t know. Unless the party’s first evening at the inn was always an overly bibulous one; and well oiled with wines and cordials, the group was notorious for sleeping through anything.
    However, what to do with this theory was unclear. Should Rosco share his concerns with the other guests and risk pandemonium? Say nothing and risk the possibility that the criminal might reappear?
    â€œIs it possible to seal off the outbuildings so that no one can come in or