by CeeCee James
Mr. Stephenson’s eyes bobbed between the paper and my face. “What is it? What does it say?” he demanded.
I contemplated my next step. Legally, this meant I needed to pass the suitcase over, and more importantly, the envelope. But I knew that Kristi was on her way with a search warrant.
This document suddenly made things very complicated.
And why did he look so darn familiar to me?
I decided to cut to the chase. “Mr. Stephenson. Mr. Austin. We’ve released all of Mr. Dayton’s personal items to the Starke Springs police department. I can get you the number if you would like.”
“And the envelope?” Mr. Austin asked, his eyes narrowing. Mr. Stephenson watched for my reaction too.
I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell them it was still in the safe. Heaven only knew what might happen then.
“I’m sorry, both of you. There’s really nothing more I can do. You will both have to contact the police for further information. This investigation is in their hands now.”
“Investigation! What investigation? Are you saying he was murdered?” Dayton’s purported half-brother shouted.
My grip on my professionalism slipped, and my hand flapped to cover my eyes. Good one, Maisie. “No. But the police are always involved whenever someone passes away at the hotel. This really is out of the hotel’s control.”
“I seriously doubt you had any, to begin with.” Mr. Stephenson clenched his fists. “I’m digging into this, and if I find out the hotel was negligent in any way”—his finger jerked up to point in my face—“I’m coming after you personally, missy.”
Mr. Austin watched mildly as Mr. Stephenson whirled around and stomped out the door. The short man’s two bodyguards glowered at me in disapproval, before following their boss.
“I’m sorry. The same goes for you too,” I reaffirmed to the lawyer.
Mr. Austin straightened his jacket, giving me a slow nod, and slowly trailed after them.
My insides shook as I watched them leave. Several of the hotel guests stared from the sidelines. I had to address them.
“Not to worry, folks. Everything is okay. Please, go about your day and enjoy the beautiful sunshine,” I said with a cheeriness I definitely didn’t feel.
“You okay?” Clarissa appeared next to me.
I forced myself to smile. “I’m fine. That was very strange. I feel for whoever has to deal with him in the future. Now, how are you?”
“Oh, man. That short guy was…interesting. I really didn’t know what I was going to do when he said he was going to tear the place apart.”
“He said that?” I asked.
“Yeah. With his bare hands, he said, looking for his brother’s stuff.”
At that moment, Mike came down the hall.
“Thanks for showing up in the nick of time,” Clarissa said sarcastically.
“What? Where is he? What do you want me to do?” he asked, looking around for trouble.
“We wanted you here about fifteen minutes ago,” Clarissa said with her arms crossed.
“I’m sorry.” He shrugged, his huge shoulders making his uniform go tight across his chest. “I had to make a phone call. That officer had some questions for me.”
“Officer Bentley?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Your friend.”
“And what did she want?”
His brow wrinkled. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly appearing unsure. “Nothing. Just asked over and over if I’d heard anything the night you left me to guard Mr. Dayton’s room. If I’d left my post. That sort of thing.”
“And did you? Did you leave your post?”
“Absolutely not!” Defensiveness lifted his volume. “Not until I called you in the morning and got permission.”
“Not even,” I hesitated, “for a bathroom break or to grab something to eat?”
He blinked as if he’d been caught. “Listen, even then I got someone to cover it.”
So he did leave. “Who covered it?”
“I called one of the housekeepers to come up. Michelle, I think it was.”
I frowned, thinking of the housekeeper with the long braid. Why hadn’t she mentioned it to me when we were in the room?
I nodded. “All right. Thank you. Now I’d like you to go out to the parking lot and make sure everything is quiet out there.” With the lawyer outside with Mr. Stephenson, I didn’t want there to be any trouble.
“You got it. Anything specific I should be watching for?” Mike asked.
“Mr. Dayton’s so-called brother was just here, threatening to make trouble. And then Dayton’s lawyer. They both recently left.” I glanced at the door. “I’m not entirely sure they won’t be back. I need to get hold of Kristi.”
“Well, like I said, I just got off the phone with her. So give her phone a try,” Mike pointed.
“Thanks, Mike. Before you leave, please update the rest of your team. Mr. Stephenson is not allowed back on hotel property.”
He nodded, and I turned to head back to my office. My gaze landed on someone in the shadows.
Mrs. Richardson.
I shivered, suddenly wondering at her constant appearance at the worst possible times. She shook her head at me in disapproval. I hesitated and started walking toward her. At my action, she turned and disappeared down the hallway toward the elevator.
My heart did a double beat as I imagined what review she was going to leave the Oceanside.
Pull it together, girl. You still have a dead body to deal with, and if it leaks that he was murdered, that press will be worse.
My thoughts went to Kristi. Need you to hurry with that search warrant, lady. Time’s running out.
Chapter 14
I walked into the office, needing a moment to myself to sort out what just happened and to figure out a game plan. It was then that I realized I was still holding the paperwork that Mr. Austin had given me.
I stared at the safe. What if the papers had the evidence from the trial? Did it hold diamonds? I texted Kristi. Even though Mike had said he’d just gotten off the phone with her, I hesitated to call. I never knew if she was in a stakeout or I might be putting her life in danger, even though I knew she turned her phone off during those times.
—Lawyer showed up with official papers to pick up Dayton’s envelope. What do I do?
I guess she really was available because she texted right back.—Stall him. On my way to the judge right now.
Stall him. Well telling him to visit the police department seemed to work for now, but what if Austin came back? And he would since I had his paperwork. In fact, he’d probably be back any minute. I rubbed my temples and stared desperately around my office as if I could find a way to stall him sitting on the desk or file cabinet.
Nothing. My fingers went to my lanyard where I kept the main hotel pass-key, along with the key to the safe. That’s right! It took two keys to open the safe. Sierra had one, and Steve the other. Perfect. I’d tell Mr. Austin that the person with the other key wasn’t in yet.
It wasn’t the greatest resolution because it made the hotel look incompetent. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and at least I’d come up with an excuse.
I squared my shoulders, practicing the wording in my head. So sorry, Mr—
My office phone rang from the front desk.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Ms. Swenson?” It was Clarissa. “Mrs. Richardson is on line four. She’s saying that no one answered her phone call to the front desk, but I promise you I didn’t miss it.”
“Hm, well maybe when that drama with Mr. Stephenson happened.”
“I stayed by the phone the whole time.”
I slowly exhaled. “Is she checking out today?”
I could hear Clarissa typing and then she said. “Yes! Check out at noon.”
Okay, I only have a few more hours to fix this. “All right, thank you. I’ll handle it. Could you please send a memo to Julie to have her pack up Mr. Dayton’s belongings?”
>
I hung up and thought about that. Mrs. Richardson couldn’t have called when Mr. Stephenson was at the hotel. I’d just seen her there in the lobby.
I clicked the button to answer line four. “Hello, Mrs. Richardson. How can I help you this morning?”
“Ms. Swenson. My coffee decanter is missing. After no one answered my call for room service, I finally took it upon myself to go downstairs to get help. But after watching the debacle from this morning, I can well understand why this hotel is run so shoddily. This hotel has more drama than any soap opera I’ve ever seen.”
I eased out a deep sigh. Immediately, thoughts of the hotel hack of ramen noodles cooking in the carafe came to my mind. Housekeeping must not have replaced her coffee pot.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Richardson. I’ll have someone bring you up a fresh cup of coffee. Can I offer you something for breakfast?”
“This is ridiculous!” she spat out in answer.
“I’ll take care of everything. Again, I’m so sorry.”
“And that ticket you sent me to the comedy show?” A sniff came through the phone’s receiver, and then her plaintive voice complained. “Five rows back. Hardly what I call front row seats.”
Just then, my office door was nudged open. Mr. Austin poked his head around the corner. My stomach sank. Why had Sierra let him back here? I waved at the lawyer to leave. Ignoring me, he edged in further and then turned to face the safe.
My temple throbbed with pain. “I see. Well, I hope you were able to enjoy the comedy show all the same.”
Mr. Austin tested the handle. I needed to get off the phone.
“Just be sure to send my coffee. And a nice plate of eggs and bacon would be nice. But I want them sunny-side up. Not cooked to disks like yesterday!”
“Absolutely. Right away,” I said.
With a final harrumph, she hung up.
I immediately stood angrily. “Mr. Austin, it’s completely inappropriate for you to come into my office without knocking.”
“Sorry?” he said, turning to face me with a million watt smile. “I did knock, but you must not have heard. The knocking is what opened your door. I thought I’d wait quietly until you were finished.”
“Would you like someone to go into your office uninvited when you were on the phone?”
His smile froze. Tipping his chin, he said, “Ah, but my conversations are a protected privilege. Hardly what I’d call what you do here, running coffee up to disgruntled guests.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Here is your document.” I pushed it forward across the desk.
“Yes.” He reached for it, and his fingertips tapped the paper in any annoying staccato. “Legally, what’s Mr. Dayton’s property in that safe is mine. I don’t believe the police have possession of it yet. I’m an attorney, so I understand that takes time to get the proper paperwork.”
I ignored his comment. “I’m sorry to tell you that the safe is opened with two keys. The person with the other key isn’t here. I’ll be happy to call you when she shows up.”
He sat on the edge of my desk. “Ah, my little nightingale. What are you doing?”
“Excuse me?” I crossed my arms.
He gave me a patient smile. “The person with the other key. Sierra’s her name, isn’t that correct? I just walked into the hotel with her. We had a lovely chat and apparently, she’s here starting her shift. What game are you playing at, Maisie?”
Chapter 15
The hair on the back of my neck rose. He knew my given name. And he knew who Sierra was.
I needed to get him out of my office right now. I grabbed the phone and yelled, before anyone even answered, “Call Security.” He didn’t need to know if I was actually talking with someone.
“Ms. Swenson?” Sierra answered.
“Security!” I shouted again.
Mr. Austin flinched like my word was a whip. He gathered his paper and tucked it into his coat.
“You’ll be hearing from me very soon,” he warned.
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. All of you people connected with Mr. Dayton sound the same,” I said.
Steve burst through the door. He immediately eyed Mr. Austin and narrowed his eyes. “Ms. Swenson?”
“Get him out,” I said.
Steve made a move as if to grab the lawyer’s arm. Austin jerked his arm away. “I don’t need your help.”
Steve stepped back from the door and Austin walked through. The lawyer didn’t look at me again. I didn’t know if I should be relieved or if that was a bad sign.
A second later, Sierra showed up. “I am so sorry. He came back here when I was taking a reservation for a convention.” Subconsciously, she pulled at the half-sleeve that partially covered a long red scar. It was rare that I saw Sierra appear insecure.
“He said you guys chatted,” I said.
“Yeah. We had a moment at the revolving door where I didn’t know if he was going to go first or not. He waved me forward and then squeezed in with me. It was awkward, but he seemed friendly enough.”
I sank back in my chair wearily. “It’s fine. Those things happen.” I glanced at the clock. Almost ten. “You know, I’m getting out of here until Kristi arrives. I’ll be out checking on staff. If you need me, call.”
She nodded and left the office. I followed, locking the door behind me.
Steve strode back across the foyer from the front door. “He’s gone, boss.”
“Thanks, Steve. Keep me posted.”
I headed home to my suite. I needed a reboot and maybe some food. Actually, I knew exactly what I was looking for. Even at thirty-five, I needed my mom.
I opened the door and slipped off the responsibility and, for a few moments, became my mother’s little girl.
“Maisie? Has that kerfuffle settled down?” Momma called from the kitchen.
I smiled at the sound of her voice and undid the strap of my shoes. Scents of what smelled suspiciously of homemade waffles pulled me down the hall.
“How do you know it’s me?” I asked.
She was at the table, crossword puzzle before her, and glanced at me from over the tops of her glasses. “And just who else would be coming through the door?”
I was disappointed not to see any waffles. My stomach growled. “I don’t know. An axe murderer?”
I thought she might make fun of my crazy imagination, but instead, she pursed her lips. It was then that I remembered her new obsession with watching the crime channel.
“You know, you’re right. I should find myself a weapon, just in case.” She got up and rifled through the utensil jar. With a shout of triumph, she seized the meat tenderizer.
“What would you do with that, Momma?”
“Well, bounce it off of some idiot’s skull, that’s what.” She tested it by giving it a few swings.
“Momma, sometimes you scare me.”
She waved a hand. Her nail polish was perfect—mauve pink—like it always was. “Pish. Now, what’s going on? You ran out of here like a rabbit in springtime, and now you’re back before lunch time. And you missed breakfast.”
“I’m starving,” I admitted, opening the fridge. Forty-seven butter containers stared back at me, containing who knew what kinds of leftovers.
“I believe it. You’ve been so busy lately, you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”
And, just like that, I completed my transformation from hotel manager of one of the most elite hotels to a school kid, at least in Momma’s eyes. I grabbed a container and popped the lid to peek inside. Macaroni and cheese. Works for me.
“You know what’s strange?” I asked, grabbing a plate from the cupboard. I dumped the noodles on to it.
“Maisie, don’t mumble. What’s strange?”
I wasn’t mumbling, but Momma would never admit to a hearing loss. “What’s strange,” I repeated, “Is that the tag on his suitcase didn’t match the country he said he was returning from.”
“He? Who’s he? That crazy guy who went and
died on us?”
“Yeah. Mr. Dayton. When he checked in, he said he was returning from Spain. But his luggage tag said Milan.”
“Italy, huh?” She frowned as she watched me. “Maisie, don’t eat that. I’ve got something better for you.” She moved over to the fridge and poked about for a second. A second later, she came out with a plastic-wrapped plate of quiche. This she stuck in the microwave and then rummaged through the cupboard and brought out “the special mug.” It was thick and black with a deer’s profile on it. I smiled when I saw it. I’d given it to my dad years ago for Father’s day.
“What are you thinking, Maisie?” Momma asked.
“Thinking about dad. I miss him.” I shot a glance at Momma. Usually, I was more careful about that, not wanting to upset her.
She did look a little misty-eyed. Blinking hard, she set the mug down.
I hurried over and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
She patted my hand. “I miss him, too. He was a good man. You know, the good Lord sets the exact number of steps to every man.” She sighed. “That’s why I never took up jogging.”
Her unexpected remark caused a chuckle to shoot out of me, followed by a snort as I tried to cut it off.
“Maisie, don’t snort. It isn’t ladylike. And I’m serious. You won’t catch me wasting my steps like that.” With that, she filled the mug with coffee and carried it to the table. “Now, come sit.”
After I ate, I dug out my sandals from the closet and took Bingo for a walk to the hotel’s pet park. The sun was bright overhead, and I could hear splashing and laughter from the pool. As the days got longer, so did the activity around the hotel.
Mrs. Richardson popped in my mind and anxiety shot through me. I pulled out my phone to send Ruby a text. —AHHH!
My message must have sent her a panic-ridden brain bullet because she sent me back —Quit worrying. It’s going to be okay.
I smiled at her text, but was it going to be okay? I glanced over at the dog and took a deep breath. Bingo sat in a patch of sunlight and panted happily before turning to sniff the air. That dog was the picture of contentment. Purposely, I rolled my neck and lowered my shoulders. Relax. Be present in the moment.