Scones and Scofflaws Read online

  Scones and Scofflaws

  A Cape May Cozy Mystery

  Jane Gorman

  Blue Eagle Press

  Copyright © 2020 by Jane Gorman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Ebook ISBN 978-0-9991100-3-4

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Untitled

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  The Scofflaw

  Cape May

  Author’s Note

  For my sister

  1

  Anna McGregor put her hands on her hips, narrowed her eyes and stared down her nemesis. She felt her pulse racing, her muscles tightening. To be fair, this wasn’t exactly the kind of life-or-death situation she’d imagined being in when she became an anthropologist. But she wasn’t an anthropologist anymore. To her, now, this met the criteria of life or death.

  She could hear Luke in the attached bedroom and knew he could do this without her. But she was already asking too much of him as it was. She could at least take the first steps to make it easier for him. She had to find a way to shift this worn, dirty bathroom vanity.

  She’d helped out with the repairs in other rooms in the old house, making whatever improvements she could on her own. The rooms on the second floor were now perfect. She just needed to get these last few rooms on the third floor finished without disturbing the visitors who’d be moving in later that day. This Bed & Breakfast was all she had going for her right now, and if this failed… well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

  She’d already removed all the screws she could find that had been holding the wretched cabinet in place, but it must have been glued as well. She put down the box of light bulbs she held, went back into the bedroom and grabbed the crowbar Luke had been using to pry the old molding off the wall. With the crowbar tucked behind the cabinet, she pushed. The wooden unit shifted, but still clung tightly to the wall.

  She wasn’t giving up that easily.

  She readjusted the crowbar to get better leverage and pushed again, harder this time, letting out an unladylike grunt. She paused, blew out a breath, and pushed again, her normally unlined face screwed up in a scowl of determination.

  This house was not going to get the better of her, she told herself. No. Way. Now push!

  She put all her weight behind one last push and felt the unit shift, then lean forward. She stepped back in relief. Right into the ladder she’d left leaning against the other wall. The ladder on which she’d balanced the box of lightbulbs that needed to go into the new unit. The box of lightbulbs that was now toppling over and falling toward the floor.

  She leapt forward, snaking her hand out, and caught the box just before it hit.

  “Good catch!”

  “Luke, I didn’t see you there.” She steadied herself and grinned. “Looks like all those years of high school field hockey paid off — I still have those goalie reflexes!” She tossed the box of bulbs to Luke.

  He caught them easily and flipped the box into the air with a wicked grin. Seeing her face, he held them up as if in surrender and placed them gently on the toilet. “Sorry, you have your goalie reflexes, I still have my running back skills. I’ll take over from here, if you’d like.”

  “Thanks.” Anna looked around the room. “How much noise is all this going to make? My first guests are checking in at three.”

  Luke shrugged as he eyed the scene. “You know as well as I do, there’s going to be noise. But I can work on it during the day, when folks are out.”

  Anna wiped her hands down her jeans, realizing just how dirty she’d become. Gray and white dust from the splintered wood molding she’d pulled from the bedroom covered her clothes and long ponytail, while splatters of beige paint still stuck in places to her skin, making her look like she actually had the freckles she was so happy to have avoided inheriting from her father.

  “I guess I should go get cleaned up. I’m a mess.”

  “You look good to me,” Luke said, then quickly turned his gaze away from her.

  She patted him on the back as she squeezed past him, trying not to notice his broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms, and trotted down the hall to the narrow back stairs.

  Her own room was on the fourth floor, along with another for family and friends. She’d made sure to finish the second room in a cheery, playful style, as the first family member who’d be using it was a young cousin from Ireland scheduled to visit that summer. A boy named Eoin. Or Oien. Or something like that.

  She wasn’t sure about taking care of an eight-year-old — that would certainly require some effort — but she was looking forward to meeting him for the first time. And at least his visit wasn’t until June. She needed to focus all her attention now on the paying guests.

  A quick shower got rid of the dirt and paint and brought her hair back to its natural fiery red instead of dust-enveloped gray. She dithered a bit over what to wear. She wanted to look professional but at the same time comfortable and welcoming. She finally settled on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans that showed off her legs but could still pass muster as business casual. A forest-green button-down shirt of soft flannel and a pair of tan loafers finished the look. She eyed her high-heeled ankle boots wistfully, but knew the flats would be a lot more practical. Plus, at five foot eight she was already tall enough. She didn’t want to be towering over her clients.

  She made her way back down to the ground floor, stopping to look into each of the rooms that had been booked for that evening. She needed everything to be perfect.

  Fresh pink roses in the Rose Room radiated a scent that brought back cheerful memories of Great Aunt Louise. Her rose garden had been the pride of the town — and the envy of a few of her neighbors. Anna had kept Great Aunt Louise firmly in the front of her mind when she’d matched the floral wallpaper and fluffy bed cover to the soft blooms. Tears still came to her eyes when she pictured Aunt Louise, a gardening apron covering her cotton dress, gloves protecting her hands, pulling the few weeds that dared sprout in her beds, deadheading spent blooms and mixing fertilizer into the soil.

  Anna had never let Aunt Louise’s work ethic get in her way as she and her friends took advantage of the large yard and its proximity to the ocean, but now, looking back, she realized how imp
ressed she had always been by her successful aunt. It was Great Aunt Louise’s love for life that had inspired Anna to pursue studies that would help other people. And it was Great Aunt Louise’s passion for travel, a passion she’d passed on to Anna through long evenings sharing tales about foreign lands and interesting people, that had ultimately led her to medical anthropology.

  Anna straightened the rose-colored curtains and caught the glint of sunlight on the ocean, just visible at an angle from this room. She’d put the work ethic she’d inherited from Great Aunt Louise — along with this house — to great effect in this room. The bed was a brass four-poster Anna had rubbed and buffed back to its former glory. The shining brass matched the wall sconces and the fixtures in the adjoining bathroom. Even there, roses colored the towels, bath rugs and flower-petal lampshade that hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the claw-foot tub big enough for two.

  In the Blue Room across the hall, a blue and white ceramic jug and bowl stood pride of place on the wooden mantel, surrounded by a wall of tiles perfectly matching the design on the jug. It added one of the many touches of elegance to the room. Not that this old Cape May Victorian mansion needed much help. In this room, Anna had highlighted the history of the house, said to have welcomed guests as famous as Oscar Wilde and Benjamin Harrison. The fixtures and furnishings brought the late nineteenth century to life, with a Craftsman-style cherrywood bed frame and rocking chair coupled with piles of quilts and throw pillows in glorious shades of blue and gray.

  She let her eyes linger on a wall-mounted display of a nineteenth century rug she’d collected during her anthropological fieldwork in Puebla, Mexico. The bright blues woven in patterns throughout the textile matched the room perfectly, and she loved to see this symbol of Mexican culture made during the same time period this room celebrated. She also knew how some of her former colleagues would react if they saw this cultural artifact being used as decor in a room designed for tourists. Anthropologists were not always fans of tourism, particularly when it threatened the fragile ecosystem of indigenous villages or risked objectifying the very tools people used to conduct their day-to-day lives. She’d shared that distrust at one time, when she visited the small villages in Puebla and saw the poverty in which her research subjects — her friends — lived.

  Over time, though, she also saw the income they made by weaving more blankets, firing more clay pots, and selling them by the side of the road to passing tourists. Those extra dollars sometimes made the difference between a meal on the table or going hungry at night. Between having access to the medicine they needed or letting pain get worse. She also knew how much the tourists themselves benefited from the exchange. Travel — visiting foreign places, meeting different people — was eye-opening. She would always encourage it. No, she would never denigrate a trade that brought in much-needed money. In fact, she was proud to be part of the tourism industry now. Kind of. Usually.

  She was still frowning as she entered the Ocean Room. It had the best view of the ocean, a clear sight line between other houses to the water two blocks away. She intentionally decorated this room with a beach theme, but she’d gone too far, hadn’t she? From the pale turquoise walls to the Berber carpet to the thick duvet colored in a rainbow of pinks and blues, the room screamed beach. She was aiming for relaxing and bright, not cheap and kitschy. A B&B in Cape May should be elegant, refined. She reached out, thinking to remove one particularly common-looking painting of a seagull over the bed, then pulled her hand back. The colors complemented the duvet so perfectly. And that bedcover needed all the help it could get.

  Stop fretting, Anna, she chided herself. It doesn’t need to be perfect, just good. The house needs to be clean and comfortable. She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths and let her shoulders relax, releasing the tension she was holding.

  Banging from the third-floor bathroom brought the tension right back. She glanced at her watch. She still had another hour before the first guests were due to arrive. Better to let Luke get as much as possible done in that time.

  Downstairs in the entrance hall, she stopped and turned around slowly, looking for anything she’d forgotten, any detail she’d missed. She’d been fighting with this house for three months now. Some days she’d been sure the house was winning — the days when work to repair a small drip revealed a bigger leak, or when tearing down old wallpaper revealed holes in the plaster, or when her foot broke through a worn-out stair on the way up to the fourth floor. Those were the bad days.

  But she’d had good days, too. And today was definitely going to be a good day. She would make sure of that. She hadn’t abandoned her old life, her old dreams and goals, to move to Cape May just to be a failure. Not that she’d really had all that much choice.

  Uh-uh. She shook her head, closing her eyes again.

  Take a breath Anna. You got this.

  2

  Luke had finished installing the new molding in the bathroom and was back in the bedroom, touching up a wall. Anna watched from the doorway, too worried about tracking dust and paint to enter the room. This was going to be the Royal Room, and Luke had outdone himself with the deep-red walls, detailed trim around the marble fireplace and antique decorative lamps on the chandelier.

  Anna watched as he reached up to dab paint just below the molding, his muscles moving under the thin white T-shirt he wore. He was a good-looking man, she could admit that. Only a few years older than her, with his own business and a quick sense of humor. His boyish grin, which broke out whenever he thought of something amusing, only added to the appeal of his pale green eyes, his square jaw routinely covered in a five o’clock shadow. But she wasn’t looking for a man in her life, not anymore.

  “It looks great, Luke, it really does.”

  Luke looked over and grinned. “Thanks.” He glanced appraisingly around the room. “You know, I think it does.” He placed the brush he was holding into the paint tray on the floor and wiped his hands on a cloth. “So, you’re running the place on your own, right?”

  Anna nodded warily, anticipating some sort of criticism for taking on a task like this, with no real experience and insufficient funds. She’d heard enough of that from her family and friends. Clearly, they had no idea how hard she’d worked while doing her research in Philadelphia and Puebla or how much she’d scraped and saved to stretch out her funding.

  “Does that mean you won’t have a lot of free time?”

  Luke’s question caught her off guard. “Free time? Oh. Well, sure … I hope so.” She wasn’t used to the idea of having free time. And where was he going with this, anyway?

  “Good,” was all he said.

  The bell over the front door jingled, loud enough to be heard throughout the house. Anna grinned wickedly and rubbed her hands to together.

  “Ah, my first victim.” She laughed, but suspected Luke could tell how nervous she really was.

  She ran down the stairs to find a lone gentleman standing in the entrance hall, a small suitcase by his side.

  “Welcome to Climbing Rose Cottage. You must be Mr. Hedley?” Anna asked, since Hedley was the only person who’d booked a room for one.

  “George, yes, that’s me.”

  George Hedley wore a long raincoat more appropriate for a rainy day in the city than a day on the beach, even at this time of year. He moved his hands, first stuffing them in the pockets of his coat, then running them through his thinning brown hair, then using one to scratch the other. He shifted his weight as he stood there. Even his eyes didn’t stay still, flitting around from the room in which he found himself, to Anna, back to the room.

  This man clearly needed a vacation, Anna thought. Well, he’d come to the right place.

  “Okay, let’s get you checked in, then we’ll get you settled into your room.”

  The decor in the Ocean Room, which George had booked, still rankled Anna. He didn’t seem to mind, simply dropping his case on the floor by the bed and looking around mildly. She stepped to the window, pointing out t
he ocean view, but he didn’t express any interest. Maybe it made sense he wouldn’t be interested in the beach in April.

  “Now, it’s just you this week, right?” she confirmed.

  He nodded. “Yes… yes, I suppose so.”

  “Suppose?” She asked. “I mean, you don’t know?”

  “Oh … well, I guess you never know.”

  “You might have guests?” Now she was getting concerned.

  “No, no.” He raised both hands in a defensive gesture and Anna noticed they looked raw and itchy. “Nothing like that. Just my wife might decide to join me, that’s all.”

  “You’re here on business, right?”

  “Yes, I am.” He looked glum as he said it, then tried on a smile. “But it is beautiful here.”

  Anna laughed. “It is, yes. And your wife is welcome to join you. But please let me know if she does, I do need to know how many people are staying here.”

  “Of course.” He tucked one hand inside his coat, reaching around to the side of his body.

  Anna tensed, then realized he was simply scratching.

  “Are you all right?” She asked. “Are you… do you need anything?” She tried to keep her voice light but couldn’t hide her concern. Was it rude to ask your first guest if he had some sort of communicable disease?