Chapter 4
After Honey’s kids were in bed that night, we hashed out the options we had considered earlier. First things first, I thought. Until we knew more about Valerie, we couldn’t decide where she’d been or what she’d done. “How about if we start back at the crime scene?” I asked as we sat in my living room.
“What are we going to find that the police didn’t?”
“I don’t know, but let’s walk it out.” I grabbed my keys and she followed me down the stairs. “Your car or mine?”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “Well, unless you want to sit in cracker crumbs, candy wrappers and forgotten Cheerios, we better take yours.”
There were advantages to singleness, and a clean car was one of them. It was a good time for the reminder when I was feeling my lack of a significant other so acutely.
In no time we pulled into the parking lot at the hotel. We hopped out and I locked the doors. We walked to the front entrance, studying all the walls and the long, covered parking area designed for unloading bags. “There has to be some kind of camera system here.” I remembered the monitors in the security room at the hotel in Chicago. Even though this one wasn’t nearly as nice, they’d have something recording, right? Just in case.
“And the front desk clerk would have noticed her coming in. Valerie tended to stick out.”
“I bet he or she won’t be here yet, though.” I checked my watch. It was ten p.m., which was an hour from shift change if their schedule was like most hotels.
“There, in the corner,” Honey said, gesturing to the right.
I spotted the camera up high, taking in most of the parking area, and knowing what to look for now, I scanned the rest of the space, but didn’t see any more. We walked through the front door and I saw another one above the doors themselves, facing into the foyer, pointed toward the check-in desk. I nudged Honey and gestured to it. We both began looking again.
Another camera was directed out the entrance to the conference center hall, but when we entered the conference room, there were none in sight. Of course that would have been far too easy. If there had been a camera in the room, Detective Tingey would have known whom to charge with murder and he wouldn’t have bothered coming to ask me more questions. The area where the murder took place was still blocked off with police tape, so we went through the other side to where the ceremony was supposed to be held, looking for another entrance to the ballroom.
We checked the hall where the catering people came in. There was a way for patrons to enter that hall from down by the stairs instead of through the normal doors. I looked closer and shook my head. “There aren’t any cameras on this entrance.”
“Great. So that’s how both Valerie and the killer got in without being caught by cameras.” Honey rubbed a finger over her lips, studying the halls.
“We don’t know that Valerie didn’t come in the same way we did,” I corrected Honey. “She might have used the front door, headed for the conference room, then met her killer in there. Only the second person had to slip in undetected.”
“We need more information,” Honey said.
That was for sure. I considered our options. At this time of night, there weren’t many. “All right, let’s go pick the desk clerk’s brain.”
When we arrived, we found the clerk had stepped away. I called out, but no one answered. I really wanted to get a look at Valerie’s room, but doubted anyone would let me in. “Do you think they’ve emptied Valerie’s room yet?”
Honey’s brows lifted in question.
“It would be valuable to get in there and see if there’s anything useful, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t know. This isn’t like sneaking into Collin’s room when we were kids,” she mentioned her older brother.
I grinned, warmed by the memories from our childhood. “It’s not like we’re planning to steal anything or compromise evidence. We just want to look.” I waited to see if she would argue; she didn’t, though she didn’t seem convinced, either. “So, do you think the stuff’s still there?”
“Could be, I think the room was paid for through tonight. How do you think we’re going to get up there?”
I glanced at the key card machine. Working in a hotel for so long, even though I hadn’t been stationed behind the front desk, I’d learned how the machine operated. This one was identical to the one at the hotel in Chicago. Without lifting my face to the camera, I glanced up at it, judged the angle and directed Honey to stand in the way. I slid behind the counter and picked up an empty key card. “Millie said Valerie was in room 327.” I punched in a couple of numbers, and slid the key card through the machine. It lit up and I pocketed the card.
I got out from behind the counter and we headed for the elevators.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Honey hissed at me, without moving her lips as soon as the elevator doors closed behind us.
What, did she think the security people could lip-read? Or that they’d be sitting around watching the videos as if there was nothing more important to do? I’d be surprised if they had a security guy at all, and they definitely wouldn’t look at the tapes without a good reason.
“Wait and see if I did it right when we test it in the door. They may have already checked her out of the room. A lot of hotels are cracking down to keep employees from using the rooms without paying.”
Honey stared at me, fascinated. “People do that?”
“Bronson had to fire a clerk a year or so back because he found out the guy took dates up to a room. He’d add the room to the cleaning list and no one was the wiser. They weren’t sure how long he’d been doing it.”
“He probably insisted he’d never done it before,” Honey said.
“Naturally.” The door to 327 had a ‘do not disturb’ card in the key card slot. I pulled it out and slid the key card into the lock. Green light.
Bingo.
I hoped this was Valerie’s room, and not someone else’s. I opened the door. Inside, the suitcase had been opened and the contents were strewn across the king-sized bed, revealing a plethora of makeup, underwear and casual clothes. I poked through the items and noticed a number of designer tags.
“Hey, be careful about fingerprints,” Honey reminded me as she used the hem of her shirt to open the top dresser drawer.
“Right.” I followed her example, picking up a scarf and using it flip things over and poke through the clothes.
A few kid’s clothes were in the room as well—her daughter’s, I realized, and remembered the little girl’s tears. I moved to the closet and found four dresses, including the bridesmaid dress that matched the others, though this one had additional flourishes at the waist—probably to indicate her elevated status. Then I wondered if Analesa had known about the additions to the dress, or if Valerie had added them without permission. Six pairs of dress shoes with four-inch ice-pick heels lined the floor.
“And we have liftoff,” Honey said as I admired Valerie’s taste in footwear.
“What?” I turned to find Honey flipping through a planner and some papers.
“Here’s a statement for her cell phone. There’s also one from the bank.” She picked up the paper and scanned it, flipping it over to check the charges and deposits. “Looks like regular charges: home, car, gas, food, nothing special.” Still, she pulled the notebook from her purse and scribbled down the account numbers for both.
“I wish we could see her cell phone or computer or something, see if she had a note written down about her schedule.” Honey muttered this as she flipped through a few more pages, but didn’t find anything useful.
“We’ll have to see what else we can dig up, I guess.” I checked my watch again. “It’s almost eleven. Want to see if the same clerk is on duty tonight?”
“Let’s go.”
I closed the closet door and checked to make sure everything else was the same as when we arrived. I didn’t want anyone to know we’d been there, and since we weren’t taking anything with us—other than Honey’s notes—I hoped there wouldn’t be a problem. I dropped the scarf back with the clothes where I’d found it.
We arrived at the front desk in time to see the changing of the guard. A young Latino man and little redhead were swapping the computer and cash register. We walked over and both clerks turned and smiled. “Can we help you?” the young man asked.
“Yes. I’m Tess Crawford, the cake lady from the wedding. I wondered, were either of you working last night?” I folded my arms across the chest-height counter and directed my attention to the young man.
“I was,” he answered. “It’s spooky, thinking about something like that happening only a few rooms away, without me knowing about it.” He shifted his shoulders almost in a shrug, but looked a little unnerved.
I couldn’t blame him. I often saw the murder scene when I closed my eyes. I was totally not looking forward to my dreams. “Yeah, I bet. Do you remember Valerie coming in last night, or passing through the reception area? I know you probably have a lot of people through here, but she’d be hard to miss in her little red dress.”
He blushed a little. “Oh, yeah, I remembered the dress. She came in around midnight. I know because I was in the middle of the daily reports.”
His expression said he remembered the parts of her which weren’t in the dress, rather than the other way around. I wondered why she had left the hotel and with whom. “Do you remember how she acted? Did she appear drunk or upset or anything?”
“No.” He shrugged. “She came in chatting on her cell phone, like it was normal to hold conversations with people at midnight. She didn’t look my way, but she was on those tall, skinny heels and didn’t seem wobbly to me, so she couldn’t have had too much to drink.”
I thought it was sweet and rather naïve that he thought someone couldn’t walk on stiletto heels while drunk. Some people were super coordinated. I was not so lucky. “Did you see anyone else around? Anyone who appeared to be looking for someone?”
“No. Like I told the police, I didn’t see anyone else for a long time after that, and hardly anyone in the half-hour before it. Once the hotel restaurant closes, we don’t get a lot of people in and out.”
It didn’t surprise me. Silver Springs was practically the polar opposite of Chicago and New York. “Yeah, the city all but rolls in the sidewalks by ten. Thanks.”
I wiped the keycard on my jacket to get any fingerprints off of it, and on the way out the door, I dropped it next to a planter where a cleaning person would most likely find it in the morning.
“What do you think?” Honey asked once we were out of hearing of the clerks.
I wrapped my jacket closer around me and wished I’d worn something warmer. Arizona may be far warmer than Chicago, but in March, the temperatures still dipped to or below freezing at night. “I think whoever she met must have come down the back way. Valerie’s room was in the same wing as the conference room, but I think Analesa mentioned they bought a block of rooms for the wedding party, so that’s not much to go on.”
“So we’re no better off than we started?” Honey asked.
“Not unless we can get one of them to admit they saw someone leaving their room between midnight and one.” I was discouraged, though I knew it was stupid to let it get to me. We’d barely begun to investigate.
“If we only knew why someone would want her dead,” Honey said.
“Let’s hope we only find one reason for her death.” I grimaced as I thought of how rude she was. “The woman knew how to make enemies, that’s for sure.”
“Then we’ll have to keep digging.”
I frowned and tried to think of our next move. Since we were tired, though, we returned to my home for a snack. I still had a few brownies left from the batch I’d made for the wedding breakfast.
I unlocked the door to the apartment over the restaurant and headed up. The lamplight fell in pale splashes against the faded yellow paint on the right wall of the stairwell, showing rub marks and chips in a few spots. Family portraits and postcards from trips my family had taken littered the walls. The Acropolis, Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, Egyptian pyramids and St. Basil’s Cathedral in Russia made appearances, many with me and my parents in the corner of the shot.
The little apartment still held a slight musty smell despite my having been there for a week. Everything was familiar, and contrary to the pain I’d felt on my more recent visits, comforting. The room held old, worn sofas covered with afghans Grandma had knitted, the fake plants standing sentinel in the corners and on tables. More faded paint in mint green, more pictures and knickknacks. Coming back here had been a balm to my broken heart.
The restaurant had kept me busy with cleanup and renovations, but I’d managed some basic cleaning in the apartment since my return to town. There was a lot still to be done.
While Honey plated up the brownies, I headed to my tiny room for a comfy sweatshirt. The thought of moving into Grandma’s much bigger room hadn’t occurred to me until she’d been gone over a year, but I was so rarely here, I hadn’t bothered. Since it would have required going through her personal effects, the bigger space wasn’t worth the time, or the pain it would have dredged up. Now some time had passed, I might be able to face it.
Two sparkling salad plates, now with a couple of brownies on each, and two tall glasses of milk sat on the coffee table when I returned to the living room.
With a sigh, I kicked off my newest pair of Monolo Blahniks and wiggled my toes. They weren’t very practical for walking around the hotel, but they made my feet pretty, and had cheered me up when I thought of being arrested for murder. Okay, so nothing could make that thought less horrible, but I’d been focused more on my aching feet than my questionable future, so that was something.
Honey picked up one shoe and held it reverently. “How unfair is it that I can never borrow your shoes? I can’t believe your feet are smaller than mine.”
I knew the tactic was intended to delay the conversation, and decided to humor her. “It’s all that coveting you did as a kid. This is Karma blowing back at you.”
She pulled a face at me. “I don’t need to be reminded of what a brat I used to be.”
“Used to be?” I lifted my brows at her, but I was teasing.
Honey laughed, her voice like the sound of tiny seashells as they clinked together. She was so feminine, from her short frame and tiny hands to her womanly curves. She even looked the part of a mother of three, though I still struggled sometimes to believe her oldest son was already eight. “I’m much better behaved now. Most of the time.”
“Good enough for me,” I took a bite and moaned in appreciation over our famous rocky road brownies. Filled with walnut chunks and chocolate chips, topped with melted marshmallows and slathered with my famous fudge frosting, nothing on the planet tasted better than these babies. “Can we say heaven?” This dessert wasn’t sophisticated enough for my Chicago clients’ palates—or that’s what the head chefs claimed when I suggested adding them to the menu. But I couldn’t imagine anyone not melting into a puddle of fulfillment with a single bite—I was totally stocking them in my bakery and knew the repeat business would be phenomenal.
Honey stayed around for another hour. I waved goodbye to her, and turned to study the apartment. I’d rarely been back to Silver Springs since I settled my Grandma’s bills and everything after the funeral. Honey had told me more than once that I was avoiding the pain, and I’d feel better if I faced it all instead of staying away.
I hadn’t believed her, but now I was home again—and wasn’t it funny that I’d already begun to think of Silver Springs as home?—I found the ache of losing my last parental figure wasn’t what I’d expected. The intense pain I’d felt last time had softened a great deal, though the bittersweet pain of being around Grandma’s things now made tears spring to my eyes and I longed to have a chat with her. I decided I’d make a trip to the cemetery to visit her tomorrow.
Despite the late hour, my cell phone rang and I listened to Marry Me by Train play through until it went to voice mail. I was still avoiding Bronson’s calls. If I didn’t answer, just let him leave message after message, all of them pleading, none of them sincere, would he eventually stop? I wasn’t sure, but the last thing I needed right after my trying day was to deal with him. He had been the one to pick the ringtone for his number, the cheating, lying jerk. I’d actually thought it was sweet at the time. Gag me.
Bronson was another hurt I’d have to deal with, and maybe it was why I’d had to come home again. Isn’t that what people did when they had wounds that needed licking? Go home? I was sure there must be some primal draw to this town, even if it hadn’t officially been home at any point in my life.
Despite the comforting surroundings, the knife of surprise at walking into Bronson’s office to find him kissing someone else still sheared through me when I let myself think about it. Though he’d been trying to get me to agree to marry him for months, I’d only accepted a few weeks ago. Apparently he got what he wanted—whatever that was—and was ready to move on. That hurt, even as I hated myself for thinking maybe he had an excuse. Maybe, just maybe, we could make this work after all.
No. Ignoring the calls was best.
It was late when I headed to bed, still smelling the sweet sachets Grandma always stuck in with her linens. It permeated the clean sheets I’d pulled out of the cupboard earlier. It was almost as good as having her arms wrapped around me.