Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork Read online

As soon as my family left, I’d head over to the perimeter of the estate, where the craft fair was to be held. Tomorrow was the first day, and I had a lot to do before the first customers arrived. Not only did my paintings have to be ready, but I had to finish last-minute tasks, too. There was a lot more to a craft fair than just providing the items to sell.

  “Well, goodbye, everyone, it’s been a lot of fun.” I gestured, shooing them away.

  “She’s being sarcastic now,” Stevie said.

  “You’re right about that,” I said.

  “Don’t be too mad at them, Celeste. They didn’t mean to do anything,” my mother said as she patted the backs of Stevie and Hank.

  She was always defending them. That was partly why they acted this way. They were always getting into something, and my mother ignored their behavior. My father was either accidentally setting fire to something or injuring himself, sometimes both. Stevie and Hank always broke things, including their bones. The anarchy would never end. One by one, I hugged them all and said goodbye.

  “Thanks for coming, you all. I’ll see you back at home,” I said.

  “Oh, we’ll be back to help you later,” my mother said with a smile. “Your father needs to eat and take a nap.”

  It was as if she were taking care of a toddler.

  “What do you mean? Aren’t you going back to Gatlinburg now?” I asked with panic in my voice.

  Suddenly my chest felt tighter. My surroundings spun ever so slightly. It was hard to inhale. They hopped in my mom’s blue Buick. My mother lowered the window.

  “We’ll be around tomorrow, dear. We haven’t seen all of the estate, either. This is our vacation. See you.” She held a glossy map of the grounds close to her face.

  “Yeah, there’s a lot more to do,” Stevie said around a chuckle.

  “Yes, we have to see more, I suppose,” my father mumbled.

  My family usually relayed my father’s messages to others. Stevie and Hank smiled, and my father said something that I didn’t understand this time. I suppose I wasn’t one hundred percent fluent in his private language. I laughed to myself as the Buick pulled away with a slight squeal of the tires. Of course, people walking around the area all noticed when my family made their grand departure.

  I wanted to hide behind the nearest pine tree. There was no time for that, however. They’d already scrutinized me, possibly wondering if I had an answer to why my family was so boisterous. I had no answer for that. Instead, I plastered a huge smile on my face, trying to indicate that everything was just peachy. At least I’d get a sliver of calm before the family storm returned. For now, I was on my way to my latest adventure. Nothing would wipe the smile from my face.

  Even if I managed to convince my family to head home, I wouldn’t be alone at the craft fair this week. I had my wonderful friend Vincent Van Gogh. My four-pound Chihuahua was my constant companion. I called him “Van” for short. People would say I rescued him from the shelter, but in reality, he had rescued me. I’d named him Van because he had one ear that flopped over, making it appear as if it were missing. Plus, my obvious love of art had spurred the moniker, too.

  My 1947 pink Ford F-1 truck and my adorable pink-and-white Shasta trailer were parked just down the way. That was where I’d set up my art to sell tomorrow. Van was asleep in the trailer, waiting for me to return.

  When I reached into my pocket, I realized my keys weren’t there. Panic set in right away. Where had I lost them? This had better not be another of my brothers’ practical jokes, like the time they stole my sneakers from gym class and I’d had to walk home barefoot. I had to find them soon, or I’d have to call a locksmith to open the trailer.

  I bet I’d lost them inside the mansion. Would they allow me back inside to search for them? Probably not. Maybe they already had posters of my family plastered around with a NO ENTRY warning. Nevertheless, I had to try. I ran back over to the area where we’d been kicked out only a short time ago.

  A middle-aged brown-haired woman stood at the door when I approached. She eyed me up and down. No doubt she recognized me.

  I pulled out the ticket stub from my pocket. “I think I lost my keys inside. Do you mind if I go inside and check?”

  She shrugged and motioned for me to go inside. I hadn’t expected that. She didn’t even so much as touch my ticket stub. I wouldn’t mention this, though. If I pointed that out, she might change her mind. Once again, I hurried inside the mansion. People spoke in hushed tones in the distance. What would I do if the other employees recognized me? I suppose I’d deal with that when it happened.

  With anxiety churning in my stomach, I walked down the hallway. I tried to keep my head held high, as if I were totally supposed to be here. I’d almost made it to the area where the vase incident happened. I figured this was the location where I’d lost the keys. As I headed farther down the hall, a piercing scream rang out. What had happened? Had my family returned? That wasn’t possible, right? The next thing I knew, a stampede of people raced toward me. I dove to my left so that I wouldn’t be trampled.

  I landed face first on the floor but not before knocking down one of those velvet rope barriers that I had just chastised my brothers about being behind. I briefly remained motionless, dazed and wondering what had just happened. The crowd thundered by like a herd of cattle without saying a word to me. Apparently, they just wanted out.

  I managed to get up from the floor. After straightening my clothing and smoothing down my frazzled hair, I picked up the gold posts holding the barrier rope. Curiosity got me, and I really wanted to take a peek around the corner and see what the crowd could’ve possibly been running from. I didn’t smell smoke, nor did I hear a fire alarm. What other emergency could there have been? One quick glance around the corner, and I saw the motionless woman on the floor.

  CHAPTER 2

  Travel Trailer Tip 2:

  Plan ahead and have an emergency contact

  list. It will help you keep calm in case of

  murder.

  Was this some kind of stunt? Like one of those murder-mystery theaters? I stared in disbelief at the body. The woman’s cinnamon-sugar-colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore the estate’s uniform of navy-blue pants, a crisp white shirt, and a navy vest.

  When the woman didn’t move, I realized this was no joke. I had to help her. Why had everyone run in the opposite direction? I ducked under the velvet barrier rope that was blocking my entrance and raced across the floor toward her. Once I reached the woman, I saw the bluish color of her face, and I knew this was urgent.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  She didn’t respond. I knelt down beside her body to check for any signs of life. I pressed my fingertips against her neck and soon realized she had no pulse. My heart beat faster as I pulled my phone from my pocket. I had to call for help.

  “Place your hands in the air and don’t move,” a male voice said from somewhere behind me.

  Oh no. Now I needed help for myself. And I complained about my brothers getting into trouble. Apparently, I was just as bad as them. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

  Doing as I was told, I stuck my hands in the air with the phone still in my hand. Thank goodness I’d already placed the 911 call. The operator’s voice sounded from above my head, asking if I needed police, ambulance, or firefighters. I wasn’t sure what I needed; possibly a lawyer. The next thing I knew, a uniformed police officer came over to me and instructed me to place my hands behind my back. Was this really happening? He placed me in handcuffs. The cold metal was loose around my wrists. Could I slip out of these things?

  Lucky for me, my brothers weren’t around to see this. They would talk about this nonstop. As a matter fact, when they found out, they would still talk about it nonstop. It would be a laughing matter to them. But if they were visiting me in prison, I wasn’t sure I would be laughing. My brothers would recount this story at every Christmas gathering. The police officer pulled me to my
feet as other uniformed men raced toward us.

  “What’s your name?” asked the dark-haired officer, who appeared barely old enough to drive, in a stern voice.

  I’d never been in trouble with the law. Other than the time my cousin’s best friend’s sister was caught shoplifting candy and they made us all wait until her parents arrived. That was when I was eight years old. Twenty-five years later, and I’d managed to stay out of trouble until now. Not even a speeding ticket.

  “Celeste Cabot,” I said with a trembling voice.

  “What happened here, Ms. Cabot?” he asked.

  “I had nothing to do with this,” I said, wiggling my arms. “You have to believe me.”

  I tried to stay calm so that I wouldn’t hyperventilate.

  He held up his hand. “All right, Ms. Cabot, just calm down. Tell me what happened.”

  After releasing a deep breath, I said, “I came back in here to find my keys that I’d lost. When everyone ran at me like a stampede, I tumbled to the floor. They all took off. I checked to see what had caused the chaos, and I saw the woman on the ground. I was merely offering assistance. I would never harm anyone, ever.”

  He studied my face as if trying to determine if I were being truthful. I hoped he came to the right decision, because I was being one hundred percent honest with him.

  “And you don’t know this woman?” he asked.

  “Not at all. I assume she works here based on the uniform, but other than that, I know nothing about this. I was trying to call 911.”

  The call had obviously dropped at this point, but I gestured for him to check the phone.

  “Are you just here for the day?” he asked.

  “I’m part of the craft fair that’s in town. I have a couple of law enforcement friends. They can vouch for me,” I said. “Their names are Caleb Ward and Pierce Meyer.”

  The young officer’s face registered his surprise. “Pierce is your friend?” he asked.

  “Yes, we’re friends. Do you know him?”

  “We’re good friends,” he said with a hint of a smile that revealed his dimples.

  What a lucky break. Maybe now he would let me go.

  “Just ask him. I’m on the up and up,” I said.

  Sure, I could be a little quirky at times, but I believed Pierce would vouch for me. The officer reached around and unlocked the handcuffs. My quickened heartbeat steadied a touch as I realized that I wouldn’t be escorted out of the Biltmore Mansion in handcuffs.

  “I will check with Pierce,” he said.

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  “And you’re not going anywhere or leaving town, right?”

  “No, I have the craft fair. As long as the craft fair is continuing, now that there’s been a death. How did she die?” I asked.

  I hated to admit it, but it didn’t seem as if this were a natural death, accident or self-inflicted. Foul play had to be involved.

  “Wait a minute. You said you lost your keys. Did you find them?” he asked.

  “Actually, no,” I said.

  I cringed at what he must be thinking.

  “Is that right?” he asked.

  “I haven’t found my keys yet,” I said.

  “But you know you lost them inside?” His words dripped with skepticism.

  “Yes, at least I think so,” I said.

  I scanned the marble floor, and instant relief washed over me when I spotted my keys. They were right in the spot where we’d had the vase incident. The officer followed my gaze.

  “I’ll just pick them up,” I said, stepping forward.

  He stopped me. “I’ll get them.”

  I froze on the spot and allowed him to pick up the keys. He turned them over in his hand as if searching for a clue on them. Did he think he’d find blood or something? I hoped he didn’t slap the handcuffs back on me.

  After a few agonizing seconds, he handed me my keys back. “I’m still going to talk to Pierce.”

  “Yes, I hope that you will,” I said.

  I was kind of getting upset now, because I honestly had nothing to do with this. I felt like it should be somewhat evident. Just because I’d been in the room with the woman, hovering over her dead body, didn’t mean that I had actually killed her. By now, I was pretty sure her death was a murder.

  “I hope you know that I’m not making this up. I really lost my keys,” I said.

  He gave me a skeptical look. Maybe I should stop talking. It seemed like the more I said, the worse I made this for myself. It didn’t help that other officers in the room were eyeing me as if I were guilty. At least that was the way I felt. Maybe it was just me being paranoid.

  A pair of familiar male voices caught my attention. Pierce and Caleb appeared in the hallway. We all made eye contact, and I grimaced. They stepped into the room and walked toward me. Talk about handsome . . . each man was a tall glass of water. Pierce, with his raven-colored hair, ever-changing hazel eyes, and chiseled features, had a mysterious edge. Caleb had caramel-colored hair with streaks of light blond; his eyes as blue as a cloudless summer day, which always made me happy. Had they coordinated their outfits today? Both men wore khaki pants and white Polo shirts. I’d been so accustomed to seeing Pierce in a suit, I found it a strange to see him dressed somewhat casually.

  Both men were in law enforcement, so it was no surprise to see them at the scene. However, this wasn’t their jurisdiction. The two had a rivalry that I had yet to explain. It seemed as if they were getting along just fine right now, though. Possibly because they’d heard I was involved in some kind of incident. They hurried over to me.

  “Celeste, what’s going on?” Pierce asked.

  “I found the woman,” I said. “I came back in to find my keys, and there she was on the floor. Everyone else had left her, so I had to do something.”

  “Excuse me, Pierce, but may I speak with you?” The dark-haired officer wiggled his index finger, gesturing for Pierce to come closer.

  Pierce stepped away with the officer, leaving me alone with Caleb.

  “Are you all right?” Caleb asked.

  I blew the hair out of my eyes. “Yes, I’ll be fine. It was certainly shocking. I just can’t believe this happened. At first, they thought I had something to do with it. I still think they might be suspicious.”

  “Well, that’s only natural, considering there was a body found, and they caught you standing over it.”

  I winced. “You heard about that, huh?”

  “Yes, I heard about it,” he said.

  Caleb and Pierce were here for the arts and crafts fair. Caleb and I had met at another craft fair in Gatlinburg. He’d been working undercover, but he was quite a good artist, too. Pierce had mysteriously taken up art recently. I was suspicious that he might have done it so that he could come to the craft fair, too; then Caleb and I wouldn’t be alone here. If that were true, it was awfully sweet.

  Caleb and I had gone on several dates. We had quite a good amount in common, since we both were into art and both of us had dogs. Caleb had an adorable German Shepherd named Gum Shoe. But Pierce was smart and handsome, and surprisingly, he had a sense of humor when he wasn’t being the tough cop.

  “What happens next?” I asked. “Will they drag me away to the slammer?”

  “As far as I know, you’re not going to the slammer.” Caleb used air quotes. “What do you mean by ‘what happens next’?”

  “How will they find who did this to her? Will the fair continue?”

  “First, they have to confirm that it was a homicide. Second, I assume the fair will continue. They’ll probably try to act as if nothing happened,” Caleb said.

  A photographer from the police department was snapping photos, making flashes of bright light in rapid succession. Occupancy in the room had swollen, and now I was feeling claustrophobic. I had to get out of here soon.

  “I think we can safely assume that it was murder,” I said as I pulled at the neck of my T-shirt. With every passing second, I found it harder to breathe.


  “Oh no. I can see the amateur sleuth wheels turning in your head. Maybe it would be a good idea if you didn’t get involved,” Caleb said.

  “Not get involved? Not get involved?” I gestured widely with my hand. “I have to get involved now. I’m practically a detective on the case now. After all, I was the first one on the scene. That means I have to get involved.”

  “Wait just a minute,” Pierce said.

  I hadn’t realized that he had stepped beside me.

  “There are plenty of detectives here to handle the case, and I think they have everything under control,” Pierce added.

  “Pierce is right. They can handle this, Celeste,” Caleb said.

  Now they were agreeing with each other? I would humor Caleb and Pierce and act as if I weren’t getting involved, but I knew I would. Seeing the woman like that just made me want to help her. It was heartbreaking. We had to know who did this to her. I had faith in the detectives, of course, but I was sure they could use some help. Who couldn’t use help every now and then?

  Caleb and Pierce stared at me suspiciously. I had to pretend that I agreed with them.

  “Okay, I guess you guys are right,” I said with a smile.

  Did that seem genuine? I needed to work on my acting skills.

  “I think it’s time we got you out of here,” Caleb said, taking me by the arm.

  Pierce took my other arm. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

  Now I was being escorted out of the building. This wouldn’t look good, either. At least I wasn’t in handcuffs. Being escorted by two handsome men wasn’t so terrible. Though the rivalry between them was getting out of control.

  When we stepped out into the bright sunshine, Pierce and Caleb released their hold on me. I shielded my eyes until they adjusted to the light. A crowd had gathered just beyond the taped-off area. News crews had arrived. Several vans, with their stations’ call letters written across the sides, were parked close by. Since the reporters’ attention was focused on us as we walked toward them, I knew we would be bombarded with questions.

  “Just tell them ‘no comment’,” Pierce said.