Ormes was a rural area forty minutes outside of Denton. It barely registered as a town. Josie wasn’t even sure it had its own zip code. “It’s unusual, yeah,” Josie said, paging through the statements again to familiarize herself with Maxine’s spending habits. “Especially given how early she was there each week.You’re thinking this was some kind of rendezvous with her lover?”
“Not at sixa.m.,” Gretchen said. “But maybe the night before? First, I was thinking maybe he lived out here and we could show Maxine’s photo to the gas station employees, see if anyone remembers her and whether she was with someone or not, but then I did a Google Maps search and saw that there’s a bed and breakfast about a mile down the road from the gas station.”
Josie cracked a genuine smile for what felt like the first time in days. “Did you call ahead?”
“Yep, talked with the owner. Edward Greathouse.”
“Greathouse? That’s a perfect name for a bed and breakfast,” Josie said. “What do we know about him?”
“He’s seventy-three, widowed. His two daughters help run the bed and breakfast which has been in his family for over a hundred years. What I’m trying to figure out is how Maxine got away overnight every Thursday for almost seven months without raising any suspicions.”
Josie thought back to their conversation with Maxine’s best friend. “The women’s center. Angela said she started volunteering there. The shelter is open twenty-four hours, as is their hotline. Misty said they’re always looking for volunteers. Either she started volunteering and stopped but kept using that as a way to spend the night with her lover, or she never volunteered at all.”
“There you have it,” Gretchen murmured.
As they left the city and followed a series of winding mountain roads to Ormes, Josie wondered how a bed and breakfast in such a remote area could stay afloat. Until she saw the views. She’d driven through Ormes in the past but never explored it. The fact that the town sat on the top of a mountain had never registered before. Standing in the parking lot of theGreathouse B&B, Josie’s breath stalled in her throat. The huge Victorian building sprawled across the edge of an overlook. The last vestiges of daylight were enough to illuminate the valley below. The humps of smaller, tree-covered mountains stretched as far as the eye could see. At their bases, Josie spied a creek and what looked like several different hiking trails winding into the distance. She couldn’t even imagine how gorgeous the view must be in the fall when the leaves changed colors. What she could imagine, though was spending a weekend here with her husband, mostly naked. Not that it would ever happen. Their schedule was already insane and now they had Wren.
She followed Gretchen to the opposite side of the parking lot, which was packed, toward a low-slung addition to the building. Its redbrick walls had been painstakingly matched to those of the original house. A hand-painted sign over its entrance indicated that it was a restaurant. The hours and the menu were locked behind a glass display case beside the door. A freestanding chalkboard on the other side listed the daily specials. Although it was technically part of the B&B, the restaurant clearly operated separately.
As Gretchen opened the door, they were greeted by cold air and the loud buzz of conversations mixing with classical music flowing from unseen speakers. A maître d’ greeted them. His eyes dropped to the pistols at their waists, but his polite smile didn’t waver. He led them through the packed dining area. Luckily, most guests were so engrossed in their meals they didn’t notice how out of place two Denton police officers were in their upscale surroundings. It helped that the lighting was dim, the decor was burgundy and chestnut, and the tables and booths were, for the most part, cleverly separated by elegant etched-glass barriers.
Edward Greathouse waited for them at the bar, which was remarkably empty considering the fact that nearly every otherseat in the place was full. His thick white hair was brushed back from his craggy face. A cane rested against the side of his stool. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black button-down shirt. It didn’t exactly fit with the fancy vibe of the place, but Josie guessed he could do whatever he wanted since he was the owner.
Once they’d made their introductions, Greathouse signaled the bartender. He ordered a whiskey neat. Drinks were on the house, he told them, but they declined.
“Suit yourself,” he said, waving toward the stools next to him. “Have a seat. Unless you’d rather sit at one of the tables. I had the staff save one near the kitchen, out of the way, just in case.”
“This is fine,” said Josie.
He eyed them curiously. “I’ve got to say, I was more than a little intrigued when you called. We don’t have need for police much up here.”
Gretchen took out her phone and pulled up a photo of Maxine Barnes, holding it out to Greathouse. “We were wondering if you recognize this woman?”
The lines in his forehead deepened. “I recognize her, yeah. Don’t know her name, though, or the fellow she used to come in with.”
Excitement raced through Josie’s veins. “Did they pay for their meals with a credit card?”
Maxine hadn’t used her card, but her lover might have.
The bartender arrived and slid a whiskey over to Mr. Greathouse before moving on. Edward took a small sip and pursed his lips before answering. “I can have someone on my staff check. That’s going back a while, though. Can’t remember the last time they were here, but I know it was a long while.”
“February,” Josie supplied.
“Mmm-hmm.” He took another sip of whiskey. “Okay. Well, I don’t think you’re gonna find what you’re looking for.”
“Why not?” asked Gretchen.
Edward scanned the busy dining room. “This summer is the first time we’ve been this busy,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard Gretchen’s question. “Even at the best of times, it’s pretty dead during the winter. A good place to come if you don’t want to be seen or remembered, except maybe by the staff, which is unavoidable. Those two? They didn’t want anyone to track them down. They came once a week. Separate cars. The man always arrived first. He asked for the same table, in the corner with the best view of the valley. Purchased very expensive wine. Brought fancy flowers. That woman? She’d show up looking beautiful and put-together. He’d stare at her like she hung the moon. They’d sit over there for hours, real close, all loved up like a couple of newlyweds. Every single one of my female waitstaff was swooning. One of my daughters said that everyone wants to be in love like that. You know who’s in love like that?”
Josie and Gretchen didn’t answer, instead watching him, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Teenagers and adults having affairs.”
Gretchen laughed. “Is that so?”
Edward’s lips curled up into a smile. “It is. You spend enough time in a relationship, all that euphoria wears off. Sure, it sparks back up from time to time but make no mistake, building a life together is work. It doesn’t always leave room for passion and the kind of infatuation that makes onlookers swoon. An affair, though? It’s all passion, heat, and excitement. Intrigue. That’s what those two had. Plus, they always got a room for the night. Paid cash for that, too.”
“You still accept cash for rooms?” Gretchen asked.
