Текст книги "A Fright to the Death"

Автор книги: Dawn Eastman

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12

Mac limped slightly as we followed the signs to the front desk. He had suffered a shooting injury to his left leg a year ago while working narcotics in Saginaw. He almost never mentioned the event and only limped when he was stressed, tired, or both. I figured this morning it was both. I slipped my hand into his and felt his reassuring squeeze. We’d decided that even though Wally had been in the dining room with us during the pertinent time period, he would be a good source of information about the staff and the running of the hotel. He was nowhere to be found so we followed the hum of voices down the hall.

The knitters had commandeered the lounge and set up their equipment by the big bay windows, which gave plenty of light off the reflected snow. They all wore some variation of shawls, fingerless gloves, scarves, or sweaters. Someone had set up two silver samovars with Sterno burners underneath. Wally sat in the midst of the knitters holding a fuchsia skein of yarn around his hands and chatting with the ladies. He had a navy and gray houndstooth scarf thrown jauntily around his neck. Isabel turned a crank on a yarn winder while Wally fed the strand to her.

The lively conversation abruptly halted when they noticed us standing in the doorway.

Mavis hopped up and rushed toward us.

“Oh, Detective. We’re so glad you’re here with us this weekend. What would we have done if poor Clarissa had died and there was no one to take charge?” She lowered her voice. “I think Violet is under the impression that she is helping with the investigation. Certainly, you don’t need her help?” She clutched his arm and steered him toward the group. I followed.

“Mavis has been telling us that you’re questioning all the witnesses,” Vi said. “You didn’t question me. Maybe I saw something and don’t even realize it and then you will be able to figure out the whole mystery by my one comment.”

I dropped my head to cover my smile.

“You’re right, Ms. Greer,” Mac said and my head popped up. It wasn’t a sentence I expected to hear, ever. “We’ll want to talk to each one of you this morning.”

A babble of voices began and Mac held up his hands.

“It would be very helpful if you would refrain from discussing your theories. I need to speak to everyone and if you have already discussed it among yourselves, it could cloud your memories.”

“The horse is already out of the barn on that one, Phillip,” Lucille said as her needles bobbed rapidly.

“If you could all just stop talking about it now and wait until I have a chance to meet with everyone, that would be very helpful. We need to speak with anyone who left the dining room during dinner, or anyone who thinks they might have information about Clarissa’s death.”

Tina, of the tattoos and art awareness, said, “Aren’t you out of your jurisdiction? Why are you two questioning everyone?”

The room got quiet.

“If the Kalamazoo Police were available, I wouldn’t have to take charge, but they aren’t, so Clyde and I are the best chance we have of figuring out what happened to Clarissa.” He gave her one of his squinty-eyed stares and she looked away.

“What are you doing to protect the rest of us?” Selma asked. “There’s a murderer loose and we’re all stuck here!”

She wore beige again and I hadn’t noticed her until she spoke. She sat between Mavis, with her bright red lipstick, and Amy, with her pink hair, and seemed to fade into the couch.

Mavis shushed her and gave Mac an apologetic smile.

“It is a good question,” Amy said.

A few nervous nods made their way around the group.

Mac tightened his jaw. “I take it you all know Clarissa’s death was not an accident?”

More nods.

He shifted his weight to his good leg.

“It’s extremely unlikely that anyone is in any danger,” Mac said. “The best way to keep everyone safe is for you to all cooperate while Clyde and I try to piece together what happened last night.”

Vi’s hand shot up. “I’ll go first! Where have you set up your headquarters?”

Mac passed a hand over his face and pulled his mouth into a frown.

“We don’t have a ‘headquarters,’ Ms. Greer.”

“We really need to speak to Wally first,” I said.

Vi slumped in her chair and sighed.

Wally stood importantly and smoothed his cardigan. He followed us back to the front desk.

“Your mom is going to read my cards later,” he said to me. He had that wild gleam I had seen in others before—he thought all his questions would be answered through the cards.

“That’s . . . nice,” I said. I never knew how to deal with the truly fervent fans of the tarot. I opted for politely noncommittal.

“Violet says she’s the best. She can tell my whole future.” He spread his hands wide and moved his arms in a semicircle as if envisioning his entire life.

Mac snorted and tried to make it sound like a cough.

Wally turned to him with a questioning expression.

“Wally,” I said, “we need you to help us figure out where everyone was supposed to be last night from the time Clarissa left the dining room until Mrs. Garrett found her.”

Wally put his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes. “I think Mrs. Garrett or Jessica would be better able to tell you that, but I’ll do my best.”

We sat in the room near the reception desk. It served as a smaller lounge and looked toward the front of the property. The blinding landscape made my eyes water. I had sensed an edgier note among the knitters today. Not just because one of them had questioned Mac, but it was starting to sink in to all of us that we were stranded here. And now they knew one of us was capable of murder. A worried group was more frightening than a single murderer.

Mac took out his notebook and gestured at Wally to begin.

“The kitchen staff obviously would have been in the kitchen or the dining room. The only ones who stayed yesterday were René and Emmett. We let all nonessential staff go home around three o’clock, when it was clear that the snow was starting to pile up.”

Mac and I nodded.

“Kirk Barstow, our maintenance guy, also stayed. You met him last night. He’s new and works with Gus, who has been here for years. I don’t know if Kirk’s ever worked on an old house like this before because he doesn’t seem to know how to fix anything. He mostly follows Gus around and assists. But Gus wanted to get home yesterday—his wife has been ill and he didn’t want to be stuck here. Once the phones are back on, maybe he can tell Kirk how to fix the generator.”

“The building doesn’t have a backup for the backup?” I asked. “If you lose power as often as you say, don’t you need to be extra careful?”

Wally tilted his head. “I don’t know much about that. Usually, it just kicks back on after a few minutes. You’ll have to talk to Kirk.”

“Who else was working last evening?” Mac readied his pen and notebook.

“Holly Raeburn. She’s in charge of the housekeeping department, which consists of her and two other women. I was surprised she decided to stay. I know she has a young daughter at home, but she said the daughter was staying with her grandmother and she let the other women go home.”

“All of the staff members are staying in the basement?” I asked.

“Yes. There are some small rooms down there that used to be servant quarters. Mrs. Garrett remodeled them a few years back after a blizzard that had the staff living four or five to a room and the guests doubling up during a three-day snow-in.”

Three days! I hoped we’d be done with this case and onto another hotel well before that.

“Other than you and the four staff members, it was just Linda and Jessica Garrett?” Mac asked. “Is that enough people to handle all these guests?”

“Jessica didn’t expect it to be very long. We didn’t anticipate the storm to be as bad as it’s been.” He gave a small shrug. “Plus there was Clarissa. She would have pitched in if we needed her. She’s only been here for about six months but she knows everyone’s job. She spent time with each department when she started so she could get a feel for how things worked.”

“Sounds like she was really dedicated to her job,” Mac said.

Wally snorted and then slapped his hand over his mouth. He stared at us with wide eyes.

Mac tilted his head and gave Wally an “out with it” look.

“Shortly after she finished ‘learning’ the departments”—he made quotation marks in the air and narrowed his eyes—“she cut staff by twenty-five percent. She said everyone could be much more efficient and we didn’t need so many people working here.”

Mac glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.

“That can’t have gone over very well with the staff,” I said.

Wally shook his head, and crossed his arms. “Mrs. Garrett was against it. She feels like the hotel is part of the community and didn’t want to let those people go. She knew that they all had families to support.” Wally’s voice got louder as he spoke. “But Ms. Carlisle inundated her with charts and numbers and told her the place couldn’t support such a large staff. She wanted to expand the spa services and thought the other departments needed to be more efficient.”

Wally glanced from Mac to me.

He lowered his voice. “I probably shouldn’t talk about this anymore. Mrs. Garrett knows a lot more about it. She can tell you what happened.”

“Anything you’ve seen or heard could help us, Wally,” I said.

“That’s it.” He held his hand up to ward off any more questions. “I don’t know anything else.” He sat back and glanced at his watch. “I should go see whether Kirk has made any progress on the generator.”

He hopped up and made a hasty exit.

“That was strange,” I said. “It’s like he suddenly realized what he was saying. It doesn’t sound like things were running smoothly here between Clarissa and her family.”

Mac shook his head. “I think we need to talk to the Garretts as well as the knitters.”

We found Jessica in the kitchen talking to René. The room was bright and clean with stainless steel appliances and white countertops. It looked more like a high-end New York kitchen than a Victorian castle kitchen. Their voices were low and urgent and stopped abruptly when we approached.

Jessica’s smile stopped short of her eyes. “I hear you’re looking for me.”

Mac glanced at me as if to say, “Wally was quick.”

“We’re talking to everyone who might have seen what happened last evening,” he said.

She nodded and gestured toward the dining room, which was empty.

I led them to a table away from the windows and we sat.

“You don’t think one of the knitters could have harmed her, do you?” Jessica said.

Mac took a deep breath. “Someone murdered your cousin, Ms. Garrett. If it wasn’t one of the knitters, it was one of your staff. Given the blizzard last night, we can hardly assume this was the work of a stranger.”

Jessica rubbed her arms and shivered. “I just . . . I can’t imagine any of the knitters doing this.”

“But you can imagine your staff doing this?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just that the cable needle kind of points to a knitter, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe,” I said. “There must be a bunch of those needles lying around and the workshop room wasn’t locked.”

Jessica shook her head. “The needle was Isabel’s.”

“How could you tell?” Mac said.

“It’s one of the needles she had made for the class,” Jessica said. “It’s designed by a very exclusive knitting needle company. They use airplane-grade metals and hand-tool their needles. Isabel has raved about them on her review blog enough that they send her samples all the time.”

“You could tell just by looking at it that it’s one of hers?” I asked. I remembered her hesitation when I asked her about it the night before.

Jessica nodded. “She had them make purple ones and most people here have plastic cable needles that aren’t curved like that.”

“You said she had them made for the workshop?” Mac said. “So, does everyone have one?”

“No, she hasn’t passed them out yet. In fact, I don’t think anyone knows that there is more than one. She used it to demonstrate during class yesterday and she planned to give them all their own as part of the goody bag at the end of the workshop.”

“Why didn’t you say anything last night when you saw the needle?” I asked. “Do you think Isabel could have killed your cousin?”

Jessica was already shaking her head. “No, I don’t think that. That’s what I’m trying to say. But I was worried that it would look bad for Isabel.”

Jessica took a deep breath and looked at us.

“Clarissa was not a nice person,” she began. “Frankly, I couldn’t stand her. She spent most of our childhood trying to one-up me and criticized everything I did. By the time we got to high school, she was the classic mean girl with a posse of supporters.”

Jessica closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Isabel and I were good friends in high school. That’s why she has this workshop every year here. At first, we were doing her a favor, but now that she’s famous through her blog and her designs, she actually brings us business throughout the year.” She looked at the tablecloth and traced the pattern in the fabric. “She’s still one of my closest friends. She knew that Clarissa was back in town and we talked about canceling the workshop. Isabel and Clarissa never got along.”

She looked up to meet our eyes. “But Isabel isn’t a killer. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known. And she’s a successful businesswoman now. There is nothing Clarissa could do to hurt her.” Her voice broke on the last words and her eyes filled with tears.

She took a shaky breath and continued. “Truly, if Isabel was going to kill Clarissa, she would have done it years ago. She said to me just before she came that the best revenge is to lead a happy life. There’s no way she would throw it all away over an old grudge.”

Mac leaned forward.

“What old grudge?” he asked. “What happened between them?”

Jessica shook her head. “She’ll tell you if you ask. She doesn’t have anything to hide, but she’s my friend and I’m not going to share her story with you.”

“Is it about Mavis’s daughter, Teresa?” I asked.

Jessica drew in a quick breath. “How do you know about that?”

I shrugged. “People talk.”

Jessica sat back and crossed her arms. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

I looked at Mac, wondering how he would handle this. In his normal life, he probably wouldn’t let Jessica slide. But this was an unusual situation. He only had the authority that he had given himself. We expected to be able to get the police involved shortly, and no one was leaving the hotel anytime soon.

I saw the struggle pass quickly over his face and then he relaxed.

I let out a breath of air and sat back in my chair.

“Okay, Ms. Garrett. We’ll talk to Isabel,” Mac said. “Do you have anything else you’d like to add?”

Jessica shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

13

I wanted to talk to Mac about his impression of Jessica’s story, but we still needed to talk to Linda. I couldn’t tell whether Jessica was trying to protect Isabel or make sure we focused on her.

We asked Jessica to help us find her mother. She led the way through the dining room and up the stairs to a back hallway that had not been part of Wally’s tour. It was dark without the wall sconces, and the weak light filtering in from the windows in the guest hallway barely penetrated. I was wishing they were real torches when she opened another door and brightness spilled out.

Jessica had led us into the family quarters, which were small but comfortable and had a beautiful view over the back garden, where the winter white blinded us. It would be a lovely room in the summer when the flowers were in full bloom. The walls were a soft sage color and the neutral couches and chairs were the perfect backdrop for the brightly colored knit pillows and throws. Obviously knitters lived there. On that day, it looked out onto a wonderland of snow-covered trees and a rolling white lawn that ended in a wooded area at the back of the property.

Several doors led off of this common room and Jessica tapped lightly on one of them.

“Mom? Can I come in? The detectives are here and want to talk to you.”

It felt strange to be called a detective again. Like putting on old clothes that had gone out of style and didn’t fit anymore.

Jessica must have heard a reply because she opened the door and Mrs. Garrett stepped out. Her eyes were red and swollen and she looked as if she hadn’t slept all night. She shuffled into the living room wearing slippers, jeans, and pulling an oversized cardigan more tightly around her shoulders.

Jessica gestured to the small couch and chairs and we all sat.

“I can’t thank you enough, Detective McKenzie, for helping us like this,” Mrs. Garrett said. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t stopped here yesterday. We wouldn’t have known what to do.”

I wasn’t surprised that she had singled out Mac. It was a constant battle to be taken seriously as a woman in a “man’s” job. I bristled reflexively. Then I reminded myself that I wasn’t planning to return to the police force and that this sort of thing would not be my job anymore.

“No need for thanks, we’re just doing our job,” Mac said, and put a hand on my shoulder.

Mrs. Garrett ignored the subtle correction.

“But it’s not your job, is it?” she said. “You’re here on vacation. In fact, when this is all cleared up you two should come back and stay with us—my treat.”

“That would be really nice, Mrs. Garrett,” I said. After being stuck here with a gang of knitters and chasing a murderer, I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to return, but it was a nice offer.

“Please call me Linda,” she said. “And I mean it—I want to see you two back here for a relaxing weekend.”

Just then, a white blur streaked into the room, directly at Linda.

“Oh, my!” she said. She put up her hands to protect herself and the white blur slowed and landed on her lap. Linda smiled down at the cat. “This is Duchess.” The cat purred and blinked its golden eyes.

Mac shifted in his seat to put some distance between himself and the cat. Ever since I told him that Vi uses them as spies, even though he didn’t believe Vi could converse with animals, he had been wary around them.

“We just wanted to ask you a few questions about what you may have seen last night,” Mac said. “Did you see anyone in the hallways during dinner? Where would your staff have been?”

Linda sighed. “Jessica, you know more than I do about the staffing. But, I did see Isabel go up to her room partway through dinner. I had stepped out of my office to be sure Holly, our housekeeper, would be able to do the turndown service all by herself. She was on the second floor working on those rooms and I saw Isabel go into her room.”

Duchess jumped down and sauntered in Mac’s direction. She had clearly picked up on his aversion and in a classic feline move had locked on to him as her favorite person.

Jessica leaned forward to get the cat’s attention, but Duchess scooted away from her. She smiled an apology at Mac, and said, “Emmett and René would have been in the kitchen and Kirk was probably still working on plowing the front walk. He had said he wanted to snow-blow the first several inches so that when the rest of it came down, it would be less of a job.”

“Would he have been out there in the dark?” I asked.

“I guess you’re right.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m not sure where he would have been during dinner. Maybe in the basement? I don’t remember seeing him until I went to check with him about the generator after . . . Clarissa was found.”

“We heard Kirk is new here. Since he wasn’t in the dining room, we’ll need to talk to him soon,” Mac said. “Has he been hired since Clarissa started, or has he been here longer?” Mac tried to extricate his ankles from the weaving feline.

Linda glanced at Jessica. “I think he started about four months ago. Is that right, Jess?”

Jessica nodded. “Uncle Dave died in July and Clarissa came here in August. I think Kirk started just before Christmas, so about three months. I’d have to look at his file to be sure.”

Mac marked the date in his notebook. “I just wondered. It sounded like he was the newest employee.”

They both nodded. “He’s a very nice guy, but I don’t know if he’ll work out,” Jessica said. “Gus says he doesn’t really know how to fix anything and he can’t believe he ever worked as a maintenance person before. He’s had to teach him everything, which is why we’re still out of power today. Gus would have had the generator running again in no time.”

“Mrs. Garrett—Linda—do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your niece?” Mac asked. Duchess gave up on Mac and jumped on the couch next to Linda.

Linda’s eyes welled with tears and she shook her head. She dabbed at her face and sniffled. “She wasn’t always the easiest person to get along with,” Linda said.

Jessica slowly closed her eyes at her mother’s words.

“But she meant well and I don’t think anyone in this hotel would want to hurt her,” Linda concluded.

“I should really get back to work.” Jessica stood.

I was surprised at Jessica’s abrupt end to the interview. Mac shook his head once in my direction and I let it pass.

“Thank you for your time,” Mac said. He shook Linda’s hand and stood.

I thanked them as well and bent to pet Duchess, who ran behind the couch.

We left the Garretts’ apartment, and Mac said he wanted to look at Clarissa’s room again in the daylight. I felt a cold chill and rubbed my arms but nodded. We had barely been able to evaluate the scene with the room full of people and only a couple of flashlights for illumination.

Mac had his cop face on, but I slid my hand into his anyway. He relaxed, smiled, and squeezed.

“What did you think of the Garrett ladies?” Mac asked.

“There wasn’t a lot of affection between the cousins. The aunt seems pretty torn up though,” I said.

“I agree, her aunt seems to be the only one upset about her death.”

Mac led the way down the hall, past the unlit sconces and up the spiral staircase. The stone was rough in the stairwell and we felt our way upward with only a small flashlight for illumination. I had the sense of winding my way into the past. I thought about Violet’s story of the invalid wife who had drowned in her bath. She must have been very isolated back then if these twisting steps were the only way out of her room. I imagined the flickering light of candles on the uneven stones and almost believed a ghost might inhabit the room at the top.

We reached the landing outside Clarissa’s room and my hand was on the doorknob when we heard a distinct thump from inside. I knew it wasn’t the cat this time. Mac and I exchanged a wide-eyed look and I hesitated before opening the door. We leaned closer to the door and heard swishing noises and a footstep. Vi would claim it was the ghost if she were there.

“I think there’s someone in there,” I whispered.

Mac put himself between the door and me. “Stay back,” he said and held his arm out.

“You stay back,” I hissed and grabbed for the doorknob.

We were leaning into one another, jockeying for position in front of the door.

“Can’t you just be my girlfriend?” Mac whispered. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can take care of myself.” I felt like a fourteen-year-old arguing for a later curfew.

Mac’s face softened. “I know that, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to protect you.”

“It’s probably just the wind.” I released the doorknob and let Mac take the lead.

Mac put his finger to his lips and slowly, quietly turned the knob. We both peeked through the crack. I couldn’t see much with Mac blocking most of the opening. It was dim inside because the curtains were still closed, but enough light leaked in that I could see the room was empty. I pressed Mac’s shoulder to let him know that we should go ahead.

He slowly pushed the door open and we stepped inside. I went to the window and opened the heavy curtains. They scraped loudly along the rod, and light flooded the room.

I jumped when I heard, “Oh, it’s you.”

Vi walked out of the bathroom with her hand to her chest.

“You two scared me to death,” she said. Her finger pointed threateningly.

“We scared you?” I said. “What are you doing here?”

Mac crossed his arms and glowered but let me deal with my aunt.

“Looking for clues, of course.” Vi matched Mac’s stance.

“What are you talking about? We’ll examine the room.” My voice rose to that shrill tone I hated. “We’re trained professionals.”

Mac waded into the conflict. “Ms. Greer, you can’t be in here. You’re interfering with a crime scene,” Mac said, in a much calmer tone than I was using.

Vi sniffed. “It’s not like there was any crime scene tape across the door. How was I to know . . .” She stopped when she saw the double glare we sent.

“Okay, okay.” She held her hands up. “Wally said you were talking to the Garrett ladies and I decided I’d come take a look.” She crossed her arms again. “I might be able to help. I might be able to sense something you two miss.”

Mac shook his head, and took a deep breath.

“Vi, you really need to leave, now,” I said and edged closer to Mac in case he wasn’t as calm as he looked. Vi could infuriate even a meditating monk.

“It’s fine, Clyde,” Mac said. “Let her look.” He waved an arm to encompass the room.

Violet grinned and my mouth must have dropped open because he looked at me and shrugged. “It’s too late now to protect any evidence, we already collected what we could, and we don’t have a crime scene team on the way. Maybe she’ll find something.”

This was so unlike Mac, I wondered if he’d been possessed by a friendly ghost.

“No touching.” Mac pointed his finger at her and tilted his head until she nodded.

“I’ll just look,” she said and rubbed her hands together.

I opened the rest of the curtains and the chamber brightened. Cheery yellow walls with blue toile accents on the bed and upholstery made for a bright and feminine space. A small couch and a comfy-looking chair sat near the window, a low white dresser with a mirror sat across from the window, and the reflected light made the area warm and friendly. I wondered if this was Clarissa’s touch or if it had been decorated when she moved in. I thought Wally had said that the turret hadn’t been used in years due to the ghost story.

The three of us looked around the room, which was in a bit of disarray. Did Clarissa always leave it this way? Or had her murderer been looking for something? As Linda had said the night before, shoes were tossed everywhere, and clothing was draped over the couch and chair. The bed had not been made—maybe Clarissa didn’t allow housekeeping to come up here and was too busy firing people to make it herself. I went into the bathroom to see if there was anything we had missed the night before. I stopped at the doorway and swallowed. There was still blood on the floor.

I stepped around the stain and went to the sink. Clarissa had left a huge array of makeup spread out on the counter. Eye shadow and foundation shared space with about ten pairs of false eyelashes stacked in a corner and a small basket of lipsticks. In contrast to her clothing, it seemed she kept her makeup well organized.

I opened the mirror over the sink and found birth control pills, acetaminophen, toothpaste, bandages, and a bottle of Valium. It didn’t seem like she’d been taking that on the couple of occasions I saw her.

It all appeared ordinary and I wasn’t really surprised. I doubted we would find the answer to her death among her belongings. I thought that the quickest way to find the killer would be to trace everyone’s movements from the evening before. There was only one way into this room—hopefully someone saw who came up here besides Clarissa.

Mac and Vi were still looking around in the main bedroom when I came out. They turned toward me and I shook my head.

“I’m not finding anything useful here,” Mac said. “She certainly wasn’t a very neat person.”

“Unless the killer did this to make it look like she was a slob,” Vi said.

She was examining a tall bookcase that sat on the wall opposite the door. It was built in and a different style from the white bed and dresser. Its dark wood and intricate scrollwork made me think it was probably original to the room.

Vi ran her hand over the carvings, while Mac’s lips pressed into a white line. She was ignoring the “no touching” rule.

“Hey,” Vi said. She pushed her finger against one of the scrolls and the bookcase swung away from her like a door.

“What did you do?” Mac said and took three strides over to where she stood gaping at the dark passage that had appeared out of nowhere.

I hung back, half expecting a mummy to lurch out at us, shredded linen dragging.

“I just pushed this little button thingy,” she said. “It looked different from the other ones.” She pointed to a small round carving in the center of a scroll. It looked the same to me, except it stuck out just a touch more.

We peeked into the opening and saw only darkness.

“Is it storage? Or another closet?” I said. “Didn’t women have huge dresses back then? Maybe this is some kind of cedar closet.”

Mac turned the flashlight on and shone it into the void. A few feet from the opening, the floor dropped off. He stepped forward and his light bounced off the walls, finally resting on a set of steep steps.

Vi said, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”