Free Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 02 - Inn the Doghouse by Heather Horrocks Page B

decorations do you have?”
    Glad for something to distract my brain from the horror I left behind, I said, “The Columbo room has his 1959 Peugeot convertible, Model 403, made into a bed. There’s a Navajo hogan in the Lt. Joe Leaphorn room. And the Southern Sisters Suite has everything in doubles, with one large and bright, and the other smaller and muted, just like Mouse and Sister.”
    “Well, I just love it. How long have you been open? This looks like a really old building.”
    “The Ross Mansion has been in my family for over a hundred years, ever since my great-great-whatever Grandfather Ross built it for his wife. Wives.” He had three and another one who couldn’t handle the lifestyle; I didn’t blame her. “It’s only been open as the Who-Dun-Him Inn for a month, but the detective rooms are very popular. We have a low vacancy rate.” This week alone, ten of our twelve finished rooms were filled.
    I was rambling again, acutely aware of my brother downstairs with my sister, telling her that her husband had evidently shot his own face off.
    “Are these old portraits of your family?”
    “Yes. Wives, children, and grandchildren. We put name plaques on each of the frames—all but one. We’re not sure who that woman is, but we figure she’s related somehow.”
    When the couple told me good night and headed up to their room, I wandered into the kitchen.
    David turned from the stove. He looked really cute in his Don’t Expect Miracles apron. Especially since culinary miracles were David’s specialty.
    I said, “Why are you here today? I didn’t expect you until Friday’s mystery.”
    As soon as he saw me, he stopped stirring whatever was in the large wok and turned off the heat. “I heard a rumor that you might need some comfort food tonight.”
    I nodded. “It’s been a horrible day.”
    “Does Liz know yet?” David asked.
    “Paul is telling her right now. How do you find out all these things?”
    “I told you. I have reliable sources.”
    David pulled out a chair for me at the kitchen table. “Your hot cocoa awaits.”
    At his thoughtfulness, I began blinking back tears.
    He pretended to misunderstand. “You don’t like Stephen’s? We have other brands.”
    “It’s not that,” I said.
    “I know.” He took my hand and sat in the chair beside me.
    The front door chime sounded and a moment later, Zach shot into the kitchen. “Hi, Mom. Hi, David.” I pulled him into a big hug. When he wiggled free, he said, “Hey, Mom, can I watch a movie?”
    Downstairs? With Paul spilling the horrible news to Liz? Not a good idea. “Why don’t you stay up here for a little while, squirt? Maybe we can talk about the father/son campout.”
    Zach frowned. “I don’t want to go. How come I can’t go on Germy’s Scout campout instead?”
    I looked at my seven-year-old son and ached for the father he didn’t have to take him. “Brother Unger offered to go with you.” He was our home teacher and intended to drive all the way back from St. George for the event. He was also old enough to be Zach’s grandfather or great-grandfather.
    Zach scowled. “I don’t want to go with him. He doesn’t do anything fun. And he has too many rules.”
    I struggled to think about Zach’s dilemma, trying to push aside my worry about Paul and Liz. “Maybe we can find someone else to take you. Maybe Paul would.”
    David put a lid on the pot and shrugged. “I’ll take you, Zach. If you want to go with me.”
    “Really?” Zach’s face lit up. “That’d be great.”
    “David, you’re already doing too much here. I’m keeping you from your reporter’s job.”
    He shrugged again. “I’m kind of on sabbatical. Taking a rest from my former hectic pace.”
    “You work for the Silver City Sentinel .”
    “Not enough to worry about. I’ll get my work covered. Not a problem.”
    “Still…”
    “I’m an Eagle Scout, you know. I can even light a fire with two sticks.”
    “Wow,” Zach said, his eyes wide