Part 11 (1/2)
Julie looked up from the computer screen as Hannah entered the room and settled herself into a chair.
”Breakfast was delicious,” Julie said.
”Of course.” Hannah was humble about most things, but not her culinary skills.
”What's on your mind?” Julie leaned back in her chair and pushed a curl out of her eyes.
”I don't know if I should even bring it up.” Hannah frowned. ”It's about Gregory.”
”What about him?”
”I saw him sneaking around down here last night after everyone had gone to their rooms. He seemed to be looking for something.”
That sounded familiar. It seemed the paranoia was catching. ”Maybe he dropped his phone or his favorite pen. He could have been looking for anything.”
”I suppose, but it seemed really strange to me, you know?” Hannah stood. ”I thought I should tell you.”
”Thanks. I appreciate it.”
”I've got to get back to the kitchen.”
Julie nodded, but she felt like something else was amiss.
Hannah turned to go.
”Are you sure everything's OK?” Julie asked.
Hannah sighed. ”I'll just be glad when this weekend is over.”
Julie couldn't agree more. Nine o'clock tomorrow night marked the seventy-twohour deadline. The guests would all be free to leave town.
Which reminded her, she needed to contact Monday's guests to make sure they understood that the check-in time would be delayed until evening. She would let them know she could accept their luggage; she could tuck it away in the library until the rest of this weekend's guests had vacated their rooms. It was going to be a mess-no doubt about it. But once that was done, it would all be over, and she hoped everything in the Quilt Haus Inn would go back to normal. Fortunately, she only had two couples checking in on Monday.
She rose from her seat to retrieve the journal from the safe, but she was shocked to find the small vault empty.
Confused, she quickly retraced her steps from Friday night. I did put it away, didn't I?
Perhaps Daniel took it in all of the commotion, and she just didn't remember it.
She sighed. She was grasping at straws, but right now that was all she had. She picked up the phone and called Daniel's number.
”Franklin,” he answered after the third ring.
”It's Julie.”
”What a nice surprise.” His voice came across the line deep and masculine. ”Don't tell me something else has happened at the inn.” When she didn't respond right away, he said, ”Julie?”
”Did you by chance take the journal with you on Friday night?”
”The Civil War journal?”
”Yes.”
”Why would I take it?”
She sighed. ”I was afraid you were going to say that.”
”It's missing?” he asked.
”It would seem so. I had a man call last night about it. He said he worked for a museum in Chicago.”
”How did he know about it?”
Julie's mouth twisted into a frown. ”He said 'Word gets around,' whatever that means. He wanted me to take some additional pictures of it and email them to him. But when I came into my office to get it, it was gone.”
”From the safe?”
”That's the thing. With the murder and the police and everything on Friday night, I can't remember if I put it back in the safe. Do you remember?”
”I don't. Sorry.”
”If I didn't put it in the safe, what could I have possibly done with it?” she mused.
”I wish I could tell you.”
Julie leaned back in her chair, feeling deflated. ”Me too.”
Daniel offered to come over and help her search, but she declined. If it had been misplaced, she'd find it.
It wasn't under the papers piled on her desk. Or in any of the drawers. It wasn't buried in the recycle bin or mixed in with the stack of old newspaper crossword puzzles that she always kept but never managed to get around to working.
Before she knew it, two hours had pa.s.sed, and there was still no Civil War journal. She pushed back from her desk and made her way to the kitchen.
As usual, Hannah was in the middle of baking something scrumptious, still neat as a pin as she did so.
”What's on today's menu?” Julie asked.
”These are sourdough rolls for tonight,” Hannah explained. ”I thought I'd get a jump on them so they have plenty of time to rise. Did you come to lend a hand?”
”You know you don't want me in the kitchen.”
”Sadly, yes. So, what brings you in?”
Julie plucked a pear from the bowl of fruit on the counter and wiped it on a nearby towel. ”I can't find the Civil War journal.”
Hannah stopped kneading the dough and pushed her gla.s.ses up using the back of one gloved hand. ”It's missing?”
Julie took a bite of the fruit and nodded as she chewed.
”Have you talked to s.h.i.+rley? Maybe she's seen it. Or Inga.”