Death Will Attend
Book Two in the
Caching Out Series
Love is a many
murdered thing.
Three months
after catching a killer, Margarita escapes to a historic hotel with Drew and
Bindi
for a Valentine’s
weekend of geocaching. But during the love-themed costume ball, the CEO of
a satellite
navigation company keels over—and then his body vanishes.
As the weekend
progresses, Margarita discovers threatening messages in the logbooks of local
geocaches. Her
attempts to unmask the blackmailer are thwarted by the last person she would
have expected.
With a stubborn
sheriff on the case, Margarita and Bindi must take matters into their own
hands.
But whether
they’re chasing one killer or two, they have a problem: all their suspects seem
to
have solid
alibis.
Between
misunderstandings, outright lies, old secrets, and more than one corpse, it’s
not Love in
the air anymore.
It’s Death.
Excerpt
What is
Geocaching?
Geocaching is a
versatile hobby that has been variously referred to as “using million-dollar
satellites to
hunt for Tupperware in the woods” and “a high-tech treasure hunt.”
Geocaching.com’s
succinct description describes it: “Geocaching is a real-world, outdoor
treasure-hunting
game using GPS-enabled devices. Participants navigate to a specific set of GPS
coordinates and
then attempt to find the geocache (container) hidden at that location.” Yes,
geocaching is all
of this, and more.
Geocaching allows
you to search for hidden containers at your own pace, whether they are
easy and close to
your urban parking spot or sneakily camouflaged at the end of a three-hour
hike through the
wilderness. It takes you to places in your own hometown that you never knew
existed. It makes
you pause to appreciate interesting locations you would otherwise never have
sought out. It
teaches you to become more aware of the subtleties in your surroundings. It
adds
another layer to
your business trip, your family vacation, or your trip to the mall.
Geocaching gets
you outside and moving around. It encourages you to prepare for the
unexpected. It
helps you appreciate a well-maintained trail or road, readable street signs,
and the
adventure of
heading out into the unknown… even if it’s just around the corner or down the
block.
Geocaching lets
you venture forth alone, or with as many people as you can take with you. It
lets you take
your dog, your children, your camera, and your phone, and often these
companions
enhance your
experience. It is the most flexible hobby many people have never heard of. Grab
a
GPS unit or
download a geocaching app and see what’s hiding in your neighborhood. Who
knows what you
will discover when you step outside your door?
Helpful Terms
Geocache: a
hidden or camouflaged container holding, at minimum, a logbook to sign.
Geocache
containers range in size from nano (the size of your thumbnail) to large
(buckets and
totes). Geocaches
can be classed in a dozen different categories.
Traditional
cache: a single hidden container.
Event cache: a
special kind of geocache involving a social gathering of geocachers,
sometimes
centered around a chosen theme.
Mystery/Puzzle
cache: a cache that usually involves solving a puzzle in order to discover
the correct
coordinates for the cache container. This cache type also includes clever or
complex
geocache hides
that don’t easily fit into any of the other categories.
Logbook: a small
booklet or sheet of paper inside a geocache for finders to sign and date.
Travel Bug: a
trackable metal dog tag with a unique code, which can be attached to any
small item to
travel from cache to cache, carried by geocachers. Each Travel Bug has its own
goal, created by
its owner, and geocachers help out by moving the Travel Bug toward the
accomplishment of
that goal.
Chapter 1
“It’s not going
to snow on us, is it?”
Margarita smiled
over her shoulder as her Australian roommate shifted restlessly in the back
seat of Drew’s
sky-blue electric car. The seat beside Bindi was overflowing with shrouded
costumes, and she
had barricaded herself away from the plastic bags with a pair of toiletry bags.
“Forecast says
light rain.” Drew took his eyes from the road long enough to glance at the
pale, shapeless
cloud cover that lay low over the valley.
Margarita took a
longer look. Hazelnut orchards flew past the windows. Back home in Silver
Creek, the
plentiful tree cover seemed to hold the low, thick clouds at a comparative
distance.
Shady Bend didn’t
have forests to give the illusion of height because so much of the land lay as
fields—mostly
fallow in February—so the clouds bottomed out against a layer of air so low
that
Margarita felt
nearly smothered by their featureless gray presence.
“Good thing I
brought my Adirondacks. My only green Uggs, actually. I should get another
green pair.”
Bindi shook her short brown and blond bangs out of her eyes. “You think I’ll
need a
flotation device
too?”
Margarita smiled
at the arch tone of Bindi’s voice. “This is Oregon, not Queensland. Besides,
the forecast said
tomorrow would be dry.”
“Oh, think
meteorology is a real science, do you? Then I’ve a fabulous waterfall to sell
you.
Smack in the
Outback, can’t miss it.”
Margarita
laughed, fingering the heart-shaped diamond pendant Drew had given her the
night
before while they
had cozied up in front of his gas fireplace. “It’s made with science, not
slavery,” he’d
said as he affixed the chain around her neck with a delicate touch and a kiss
on her
nape. How like
Drew to show his unique love for her with a big, glittery gem that helped to
save
the planet. She
looked over at her tall, slender boyfriend fondly, enjoying the sight of his
light
brown hair and
auburn sideburns.
Drew, focusing on
the road, asked, “What’s the name of the cross street I’m looking for?”
Margarita checked
the directions printout. “Heritage Lane.”
“There’s a bloody
Heritage Lane in every town we’ve driven through.” Bindi’s brow
furrowed, and she
took a brief sniff against the skin of her right forefinger where she’d rubbed
some strongly
scented floral lotion. “Back in Geelong, the names on the street signs are so
unique, tourists
get their photos taken with them.”
Margarita knew
Bindi was likely exaggerating the glory of her former home, Victoria,
Australia, as she
often did, but Drew frowned and said, “I apologize for America’s confusing
street-naming
system. If you were going to be so easily upset by words on green signs, maybe
you shouldn’t
have come this weekend.”
Though Bindi
giggled appreciatively, Margarita tensed, sensing Drew’s frustration with the
abrasive girl in
the back seat. Though he’d quickly adapted to Margarita’s quiet spells as she
worked at either
solving or creating another geocaching puzzle, whether at his house in Salem or
her duplex in
Silver Creek, he’d yet to really click with her transplanted roommate,
especially
regarding Bindi’s
quintessentially Australian take on things. The last thing Margarita needed on
a getaway weekend
was her new boyfriend butting heads with her roommate. She cringed every
time she thought
about having to choose one over the other.
After passing two
tree nurseries, a field owned by a grass seed company, and a rectangular
block of eight
fields strung with hops trellises, Drew turned onto Heritage. He pulled into a
long,
newly-blacktopped
driveway that took a curving route through beautifully trimmed trees which
likely
represented a nurseries’ entire tree stock catalog as well as the local
varieties: mature
willows, thin
limbs drooping like green spaghetti; broad-leaf maples; twisting, pale-barked
oaks;
pruned dogwoods
and Japanese maples; sturdy pines and brushy Douglas firs; orange-barked
cedars; and
rangy, long-limbed lilacs.
The trees’ bare
limbs made the approach to the historic boarding house look rather sinister,
but one last
curve past neatly landscaped grounds revealed a three-story butter-yellow
building
bursting with
gables, shutters, and pillars along its tall façade, central rotunda, and
wings. Its
windows looked
out on the world through narrow, old-fashioned casements, but a double row of
electric street
lamps lit the short front walk and curved around the driveway circle, lighting
the
road in full
blaze as if affronted by the barely-dimming sky overhead. A few other guests
mingled on the
broad covered porch despite the chill evening. One of them, a young woman with
strawberry blonde
hair, eagerly waved a greeting as Drew’s car approached.
“You ladies want
to get out here?” Drew asked. “I’ll park in the lot over there and bring in
your bags.”
Margarita and
Bindi hopped out and detached their plastic-shrouded costumes from the
hanger loop in
the back seat. Margarita handed Bindi her toiletry bag, then snagged her own
and
shut the car’s
back door. “I can’t believe I get to dress up for this. Best event cache ever.
I
haven’t worn a
costume since high school.”
“What was the
last one, then?” Bindi asked.
“I was a zebra in
Our Town.”
Bindi looked at
her askance. “Is this another American thing?”
“No, it was
another Mr. Zoeller thing. He crossed The Lion King with Our Town and called it
art.”
“Whacka if you
ask me. I hope your stripes were flattering.”
Drew pulled away
toward the parking lot. Bindi fell into step beside Margarita as they
marched toward
the broad steps of the old building, flanked by its old-fashioned street lamps.
“Did you bring
your puzzle notebook, Bellisblossom?” Bindi asked, using Margarita’s
geocaching name.
Margarita gave
Bindi a sly look. “Yes, Chuckayewy. But I’m still not going to let you see my
logic puzzle
until it’s done. You know how this works. I finish the puzzle, then you test
it.”
Bindi barked a
laugh. “You haven’t started it yet.”
“I have too! I’ve
got my matrix all ready. I… just need a little inspiration for the categories.”
“This weekend
should be plenty inspiring. But don’t hesitate to ask if you need some ideas.”
“Ask you, or ask
Redbeard’s Good Twin?” Margarita asked. Drew liked the idea of growing
a red beard more
than he liked the reality of doing so, so he’d picked a cacher name that let
people know he
could be piratey if he wanted.
“Your man’s still
a bit uptight. Best come to me, love.”
“Ha.”
Bindi hefted her
rustling outfit and ran a hand through her short, tousled hair. “At least your
costume doesn’t
have five yards of unnecessary tulle on it. Don’t know what I was thinking,
trying to make a
simple Greek girl into a prom queen.”
Margarita
laughed. “It’s beautiful, and it’ll probably fit better than any of the rented
costumes
the rest of us
are bringing.”
“Just bloody
lucky I can sew. I can’t imagine suffering through the evening with my nose
full
of two dozen
other people’s sweat and spilt wine.” Bindi looked askance at Margarita’s
bundle.
“No offense. I’m
sure the costume blokes dry clean their wares every year whether they need it
or not.”
Margarita lifted
a smug chin. “Mine smells like lavender.”
Bindi merely
snorted.
They reached the
bottom of the stairs, and Margarita got her first look at the guests on the
porch. A
dark-haired man and a blonde, stylish woman stood in the far right corner. They
didn’t
acknowledge
Margarita’s and Bindi’s arrival, being too deep in quiet, fast conversation.
The
strawberry blonde
who had waved earlier looked down with a friendly smile from the edge of the
porch. Beside her
stood a slender man with dark auburn hair and an older gentleman with
gleaming teeth
and a too-perfect tan.
“Hi there,” the
girl said, reaching out a hand in greeting once Margarita and Bindi came level
with her. “I’m
Heather. My boyfriend—can I call you that?” she asked. Her tall companion
nodded. She
giggled and finished, “My boyfriend Jason. And this is Rich Sweet.”
“Oh, Rich Sweet.
I like the sound of that. A ready-made sugar daddy,” Bindi purred, shifting
her belongings to
one arm in order to shake hands. “Do you come with a free chocolate sample?”
“Bindi,”
Margarita began in exasperation. The Aussie had just broken things off—whatever
those things
were—with her significant other of all of three weeks. Perhaps she thought
someone
named Sweet would
smell better than the former acting chief of police?
“Oh, an Aussie
girl,” Rich said, taking Bindi’s hand. “A real pleasure.”
Heather flashed
an eager smile. “Are you excited for this weekend? Jason just got me into
geocaching, so
I’m absolutely thrilled to get to hang out with a group of experienced cachers.
I’m going to pick
up so many useful things.”
Margarita nodded
and turned to Jason. “How long have you been caching?”
“Only a couple of
years, but I get out and do it whenever I can. I drive a tow truck down in
Eugene, so
learning the streets is part of my job.”
“Sounds like
you’ve found the perfect hobby.”
He smiled. “I
think so. How about you? You’ve got that veteran air about you.”
Margarita raised
her dark eyebrows. “I do? Let me think. It’s been just over five years now.
Does that make me
a veteran?”
“In this company
it does,” Bindi said. “I started caching in Australia just over a year ago.
How about you,
Rich Sweet? Are you greener than I am at this?”
The older man’s
brilliant smile faded, and he cleared his throat. “About the same, I suppose. I
mean, I’ve been
out and about a bit, but in some regards, I really do feel like a pure novice
at
this.” His smile
brightened again. “But I love this sport so much that I just had to come this
weekend. Really
looking forward to some quality looking.”
Quality looking?
Margarita wasn’t familiar with that particular geocaching phrase.
In the brief
moment of silence that followed Rich’s awkward statement, Margarita caught an
out-of-context
snip from the other couple’s conversation as it rose loud enough to hear.
“If you really
respected him, you’d call him Derick,” the man accused.
“Let’s not forget
where—and when—he got his nickname, shall we? I need to get out of this
humidity,” the
woman added, perhaps realizing she’d been overheard. “It’s murder on my hair.”
As the woman’s
heels clicked across the hardwood porch and through the front door into the
stone-tiled
lobby, Drew reached the bottom of the steps, his arms full of bags.
“Let me give you
a hand with those,” Jason offered, taking a long-legged step around
Margarita and
pounding down half of the stairs to take two of the suitcases from Drew’s arms.
“Thanks,” Drew
puffed, shaking out the twisted sleeve of his plaid overshirt.
Margarita felt
instant guilt for not offering to carry more. Drew had been ill when she first
met him last
Halloween, and though he had recovered, he’d had two more mysterious bouts, the
details of which
he refused to share with her. She knew he was trying to appear self-reliant in
her
eyes, as if his
strange periods of sickness didn’t exist, but one side effect of brushing off
his
condition was
that Margarita only worried about his health whenever he showed weakness or
tiredness and
somehow forgot about it in the face of his ebullient recovery periods.
Margarita
followed Bindi into the rotunda lobby. Two brass-and-red-velvet staircases of
pale
wood curved up
the sides of the room and arced into a railed balcony twenty feet above the
lobby. The sides
of the balcony were shadowed with hallways that led into the left and right
wings of the
building. No doors or landings marred the staircases’ perfect curves; it seemed
that
the three-story
appearance of the building’s façade was exactly that. Overhead, a circular
stained-glass
window filled the very apex of the dome, drenching the upper walls with deep
reds
and purples in
the last of the daylight. Four small chandeliers supported by brass chains hung
from the edges of
the dome and lit the lobby with a warm golden light that bounced and gleamed
from the brass
trim on the banisters and door handles. Across the way, a pair of French doors
opened into a
central hallway where Margarita could see various doorways trimmed in deep
gold. An older
couple swanned past the French doors, and Margarita heard faint murmurs in the
distance.
“Good evening,” a
woman said in a pleasant low voice.
Margarita lowered
her gaze from the balcony to a front desk set into the curve formed at the
base of the
left-hand staircase. In her awe, she’d completely overlooked it.
“Welcome to
Bonney House. I’m Annalee Bonney. May I have your names, please?”
Margarita stepped
forward and gave her information. Annalee’s short pearly nails clicked
over the keys of
a thin laptop on the low counter in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye,
Margarita saw
that everyone who had been on the porch had also come inside.
“Don’t I know you
from somewhere?” Margarita turned to see the blond woman’s male
companion looking
at Drew with a puzzled expression. Filled with curiosity, she waited to hear
how Drew could
possibly know a rich stranger in a tailored suit.
Drew’s expression
displayed a fleeting moment of apprehension, but before he could reply,
Annalee handed
Margarita three keys and said, “You ladies are in Room 205, and Mr.
Lexington’s room
is 207. Take these stairs behind me, hang a left, and your rooms will be the
fourth and fifth
doors on the left.”
Margarita thanked
the woman and handed Bindi her key, disappointed that she’d been unable
to hear any reply
Drew had made to the rich guest. She’d have to ask him about it later.
“Real metal
keys,” Bindi commented. “Too bad they’re not skeleton keys.”
“Morbid much?”
Margarita asked as they headed up the stairs with Drew and Jason in tow.
“Not a bit.
Skeleton keys let you open more than one door. In an old place like this, you
don’t
want to explore
in the dark with a single candle?”
“You and your
horror movies,” Drew said.
But Margarita
grinned. An old building had to have a few secret nooks and crannies. Despite
the beautiful
furnishings, she could smell the aged wood and the tang of old metal that gave
the
late-1800s
structure its centenarian appeal. And that was just in the lobby. Imagine what
fun
secrets I could find
in the back rooms and the cellar!
At their doors,
side by side in the hallway, Margarita and the others thanked Jason for his
help in hefting
their bags. She gave Drew his key as Bindi opened the door to 205 and booted
her
wheeled suitcase
in with the toe of her ever-present Uggs.
“See you in a
couple minutes?” Margarita asked Drew.
He nodded and
bestowed one of his charming half-smiles.
Hand on her
suitcase handle, Margarita recalled her coworkers’ suggestive oohs when she
told them she was
taking a weekend trip to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Liz Tolliver, the
empathetic front
desk lady at Silver Creek General Hospital, had given Margarita a wink and a
nudge, as if they
were characters in an old comedy routine. Eva and Julie had demanded details
when Margarita
got back on Monday morning. Greg, the lone man in the small hospital’s patient
business office,
had merely grinned and wished her a pleasant weekend. Margarita’s boss, Bev,
had done so as
well, adding that if Margarita decided to elope on the spur of the moment, she
wouldn’t blame
her—Bev had met Drew at the New Year’s party—but that she still needed to
show up for work
at eight o’clock on Monday morning.
None of them had
known Margarita was taking her roommate, or that she’d be spending her
nights chastely
in the single bed next to Bindi’s. None of them knew that the sleeping
arrangements had
been Drew’s idea. And none of them knew how confused and hurt Margarita
had been by
Drew’s decision. Even Bindi had been uncharacteristically circumspect, keeping
her
own counsel aside
from an initial boggle-eyed expression.
Margarita
sidestepped into her room, sliding her suitcase across a thick cream entry rug
covered in sage
green paisleys. The rest of the narrow room’s floor was composed of thin strips
of hardwood, dark
with over a century’s worth of aging. A pair of single beds, each with a fluffy
pillow and a
thick floral comforter, rested their headboards against the right-hand wall,
with a
small lamp stand
between them. A tiny round table and a squat chest of drawers sat against the
opposite wall.
Creamy lace curtains framed a view that may or may not have contained the
distant
Willamette River. It was hard to tell in the twilight.
Margarita dumped
her toiletry bag and the zippered sack containing her costume onto the
second of the
beds, then tested the bounciness of her mattress.
“Cozy,” Bindi
said, eyeing the small room. She picked up the old-fashioned double-bell
alarm clock on
the lamp table between the two beds and gave it a wind. On the wall above the
tiny round table
hung a pair of paintings depicting turn-of-the-century dockworkers unloading a
barge and three
women waving hankies at a small pleasure craft. “Think that’s Shady Bend?”
“Undoubtedly. A
place like this relying on its own history as a draw for business? I’ll bet
Annalee Bonney
knows everyone in that picture by name.”
Bindi laughed.
“I’m calling that strapping bloke atop the highest crate Rich.”
“You are not.
Leave the poor man alone. You don’t even know him, Bindi, and the last thing
you need is to
rebound from one relationship into another based entirely on the appeal of the
man’s last name.”
“Is this romantic
advice from the one-man sheila, then?”
Margarita
stilled, hurt.
Immediately
contrite, Bindi said, “That was a dig too far. I’m sorry.”
Margarita took a
slow breath. “Me too. I shouldn’t be commenting on your decisions. I just
don’t want you to
get hurt.”
“No worries,
love. I’m mostly scar tissue by now. No harm done. Just look around, though,
and you’ll see
I’m at the other end of that boat you’re in. You need to tell him.”
Since Christmas,
Bindi had known Margarita’s last secret: Jake and the last thing he’d given
to Margarita
before his death ten years ago. “I will.”
“You’re bloody
wearing it out there for everyone to see. Only a matter of time until he
figures it out.”
“I said I’ll tell
him.”
Tinny music, an
old-fashioned flourish, briefly filled the hallway, followed by Annalee’s
soothing voice.
“Ladies and gentlemen, a brief announcement to inform you of the evening
schedule. Our
weekend will commence with the Valentine’s Day ‘Til Death Do Us Part Costume
Ball in the Grand
Ballroom in one hour. If you didn’t bring a costume with you and wish to
borrow a mask for
the evening, we have several extras you may pick up at the front desk before
joining the
festivities. We will enjoy socializing and hors d’oeuvres in the ballroom until
dinner
commences at
eight. And keep your eyes peeled for a special themed performance brought to
you by your
fellow guests. Welcome again to Bonney House! Whether you’ve elected to stay
the
weekend or merely
the evening, we hope you enjoy your time with us.”
Margarita and
Bindi stared at one another for a long moment.
“I need a
shower,” Bindi said abruptly. “Since there’s no plumbing in here, I guess I’ll
be
racing everyone
else for one of the bathrooms we passed at the top of the stairs.”
As Bindi rifled
through her bags, collecting shampoo and soap and tossing Uggs all over her
side of the room,
Margarita sat on the end of her narrow bed, feeling her stomach twist. She’d
just promised
Bindi that she’d tell Drew her secret. But she couldn’t for the life of her
come up
with a scenario
in which to do so. How does one segue into “Oh, by the way, my entire adult
life
isn’t what you
think it is”?
About Morgan C.
Talbot:
Morgan is an
outdoorsy girl with a deep and abiding
love for the
natural sciences. Her degrees involve
English and
jujitsu. She enjoys hiking, camping, and
wandering in the
woods looking for the trail to the car,
but there isn’t
enough chocolate on the planet to bribe
her into rock
climbing.
When she’s not
writing, she can be found making
puzzles, getting
lost on the way to geocaches, reading
stories to her
children, or taking far too many pictures
of the same tree
or rock.
She lives in
Eastern Washington with her family.
Giveaway:
http://redadeptpublishing.com/double-caching-out-tour/
Review by Mallory Heart Reviews:
Review of Death Will Attend
5 Stars
The newest delight in Morgan Talbot’s wonderful “Caching Out”
mystery series. In this entry, geocaching is more of a backdrop and stage on
which the murder mysteries (yes, plural) play out. In the first installment, “First
to Find,” geocaching was the engine of the mystery. Author Talbot does an
excellent task of delineating the intriguing hobby of geocaching, in which
Cachers use various GPS systems to locate “treasure.” Unlike pirate days, the
treasure usually isn’t valuabe, but may be a “Travel Bug,” a note,or something
similar. It’s sort of similar to a scavenger hunt, but using the high-tech tool
of GPS, and it’s performed outdoors.
In “Death Will Attend,” protagonist Margarita Williams finds
herself spending a lot of time contemplating “Death” as an entity, while
several other individuals spend time—and effort—making sure certain folks meet
Death up close and personal. So this mystery is somewhat more philosophical, I
thought, than the first; but never fear, mystery readers, this one is also so
jam-packed with action and sleuthing and clues and mysteries galore, that I
read it in just one sitting. Margarita, Aussie roommate Bindi (a treasure in
herself), and newly boyfriend Drew elect to spend a weekend at historic Bonney
Hotel in the farmlands of Oregon, for an event cache weekend. Almost
immediately they discover that caching is not the only activity going on;
murder has taken a firm hold on the gathering.
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