by Teresa Trent
Wiley came around the corner with a cup of coffee for his niece. Nora sniffed the brew and figured out there was a little more in it than coffee.
“For your nerves,” Wiley whispered before he returned to his post in the kitchen.
“Do you think it was the fall that killed him?” Nora asked after taking a deep sip of the coffee. The added ingredient started to course through her veins, calming her shaky hands.
“We’re not totally sure. Probably. We’ll know more after the autopsy. Did he make his own reservation, or do you think he was just trying to muscle his way into the hotel?”
“He said his secretary made it for him. We didn’t have a booking or a credit card on file. I couldn’t give him what I didn’t have. He said he was here to cover the convention.”
“Did he have his phone with him? He told me he lost it while traveling here.”
“Yes, he had one, but it didn’t have any data on it. I think it was one of those cheap ones you can pick up in a hurry.”
“Sort of like his bags,” Nora said.
“Did you hear anything or see anything unusual last night? Anybody lurking around who shouldn’t be?” Tuck asked.
“I didn’t see anything. Max was on duty, so you’ll have to ask him.” Remembering Max was known to catch a few winks on the night shift, Nora had to assume that was when Alan Shaw fell down the elevator shaft.
“Did the victim get his interview?”
“No. At least I don’t think he did. It sure didn’t sound like it last night. As nice as Evangeline was, she probably would have given him a few minutes. You called him a victim. Does this mean it is definitely murder?”
“Yes. There were signs of a struggle in the waiting area by the elevator and pieces of the molding were missing where he tried to anchor himself against his attacker. We’re probably going need a little more time up there. When will the elevator be fixed?”
“Today, we hope, and do me a favor and keep the murder part to yourself. This could be really bad for the Tunie’s bottom line right now.”
Izzy Franklin came rushing in the door pushing past the guests waiting in line.
“I heard about the murder. Alan Shaw was an awful man. Just about anybody could have pushed him.” Once she had paid her respects in that department, Izzy looked Nora in the eye. “Did you find my manuscript?”
“Yes, I did, and were not even sure that it was a murder. It could have been an accident.” At least finding the manuscript was one good thing in Nora’s day.
“Where is it?”
“Uh, it’s in the middle of a crime scene right now.”
“What?”
“It was on a table by the elevator on the fourth floor. I’d just found it when I discovered Mr. Shaw in the elevator.”
“Excuse me, I know I met you last night, but you seem so familiar to me.” Tuck asked, butting in between us.
“Izzy Franklin. I can’t believe you don’t know me. You reserve those true crime books all the time. Think of me sitting behind a big tan counter. Ring a bell?”
Tuck pressed his lips together and then hit the side of his head with the back of his hand. “Miss Franklin. The library lady. Yes, you’re right. Sometimes it’s hard to recognize people when you don’t see them in familiar surroundings.”
“Yes, well, I was about to call your office to see if you could charge somebody with mishandling a manuscript.” She glared at Nora.
“Izzy. I promise once the police finish with it, I will personally deliver your manuscript to Miss Cartwright.”
“And this time I should believe you?” When she spoke, her glasses slid down her nose and she glared at Nora over top of them.
Tuck pulled Nora over, stepping away from Izzy. “Do you have any idea who left that manuscript there?”
“I don’t know for sure. I just assumed …”
Tuck turned back as a uniformed officer came down the stairs. “I think we’re done up there, boss. The fourth-floor guests can check in now. They just need to stay out of the areas where we taped it off.”
“Great. I’m sure the hotel wants to make their guests comfortable.” He turned to Izzy, “Miss Franklin, just how angry were you with our victim last night?”
“He was insulting Evangeline Cartwright. She’s the best writer in the country, and she certainly didn’t deserve to be spoken to in that way. I don’t know why the hotel didn’t just get rid of him sooner. They certainly seem to get rid of other things pretty easily.”
Nora winced at the obvious criticism of her handling of the manuscript.
“And would you protect your writing hero enough to say, push someone down the elevator shaft?”
Nora gave him a withering glance. “But, we know it was an accident ….”
Izzy’s eyes widened. She didn’t look strong enough to push Alan Shaw’s bulk anywhere. Tuck Watson’s query seemed ludicrous.
“If you plan to ask me questions like that, I’ll have to request there be a lawyer present.”
“Of course.” Tuck nodded respectfully. Izzy turned back to Nora and pointed a finger in her face.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Izzy leaned over bringing her face uncomfortably close to Nora’s. Miss Cartwright had better be looking through that manuscript by then.”
“Of course,” Nora said, parroting Tuck. Nora found herself holding back a sneeze. As much as Nora tried to control it, she let out a tremendous sneeze.
“God bless you,” Tuck said, reaching for a hankie in his pocket.
A woman in a baggy animal print sweatshirt covered in cat hair gave Nora look. “You should be sneezing into the crook of your arm you know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was going to sneeze. I thought I’d stopped it.”
“Obviously,” The woman said, pulling out a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer.
Tuck looked around the lobby. The Tunie was suddenly very busy as the undercurrent of female voices filling the room. “I’d better get upstairs and make sure the crime scene crew did everything they were supposed to.” He drew Nora closer and was about to kiss her when once again, she sneezed.
“Drawing on my detective skills, I need to ask are you allergic to cats?” he asked.
“Yes,” Nora groaned.
“Oh my, nothing like a hotel full of guests covered in cat dander,” he said, a smile in his eyes.
A man dressed in a gray uniform came into the lobby and made his way through the crowd.
“Excuse me. I’ve come to work on the elevator.”
Nora sure hoped cleaning off the top of the elevator car was part of the service. She would need to check petty cash for a tip. A big tip.
Chapter 7
W
At noon, the guests were almost all checked-in, eating lunch and settling down for a cat nap. The crime scene was cleared, and the elevator was running. Even though there none of the guests had been allowed to bring their beloved pets, the hotel felt like it was overrun with cat purses, t-shirts, shoes and jackets. Everything was working out. Marty had even reported the swelling was going down on her ankle.
“How did you know I forgot to pack a lunch?” Nora said as Tatty Tovar walked in waving a bag of fast food.
Tatty grinned. “Let’s just say that after getting to know you, I was pretty sure you would only be thinking of this hotel. Besides, I wanted to see all the doings at the hotel.”
“Not that exciting, if you don’t count Mr. Shaw’s death.” Nora opened her bag and then as a sneeze overtook her, shut it again.”
“The cat dander is thick around here. People carry it on their clothes. You’re going to have to clean everywhere after they leave.”
“I know. I know. Now I’m figuring out that no one else would take this group. Now that we can put this on our convention resume, we won’t be offering our facility to them
next year.”
“If you can keep the rooms rented when all your future guests start sneezing.”
“It’s not that bad. The real problem right now is Wiley and the restaurant. Our supplier was supposed to deliver our order for the keynote dinner tonight.” Nora checked her watch. “It was supposed to be here about five minutes ago.”
“Where does he get his chicken?”
“Moore Foods and even though he thinks he put the order in, but they say they never received it.”
“That’s strange.”
“The thing is Jumbo Gumbo seems to be getting their shipments no problem. You know when I started working here I thought something like booking a convention was easy. We pulled off an incredible party to celebrate the Tunie but who was I thinking I could handle something like this? I haven’t even studied hospitality.”
“You can do that?”
“Sure, it’s a major in college. They offer it down at University of Houston.”
“So, what. You don’t have a degree in hotel management. You do have a degree. You have all the smarts you need, Nora. Ed and I don’t have any degrees and we’re doing just fine. Frankly, I don’t think you need one. You’ve already turned the Tunie completely around. Before you came, Marty was drowning in this place.”
Nora sighed, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. “I suppose you’re right.”
Tatty looked around the lobby. “Is it okay if we eat our sandwiches right here?”
“As long as I don’t have anybody checking in, I don’t think there’s a problem.”
Wiley came out of the kitchen with an expectant look on his face. “Have you heard anything?”
“Not yet. Don’t you need to be in the kitchen?”
“No. What I need is forty pounds of chicken. How am I supposed to serve marinated chicken if I can’t marinate it?”
Nora leaned her elbows on the desk, her fingers around her hamburger. “I don’t know. What is the fastest thing you can do with chicken?”
“Fry it, I guess, but anybody can do that.”
“Then be ready to make that, but better.”
“I thought you said you straightened this out. I knew Jumbo Jim would slow us down.”
“Go back to the kitchen, Uncle Wiley. I’ll give them another call.”
He started to open his mouth, but Nora stopped him, “Go!” Wiley stomped off to the dining room.
Tatty’s eyes slid to a squint along with a smile. “You told him. You know everybody in town is talking about Wiley’s food here.”
“Did I tell you that he studied at culinary school?”
Tatty was in the middle of a bite of her chicken sandwich when she looked up in surprise. “No way. You mean we have a chef among us, and we never knew it?”
“Yes, but his history with alcohol always messed up his chances of advancement.”
“How is he doing now?”
“Pretty good. Uncle Wiley tells me he’s going to AA meetings. If anything is going to test his sobriety, it will be all these cat ladies.”
“You have a very interesting family. By the way, how is that newfound brother of yours?” Tatty asked.
“I guess Lucy paid a visit to Corey before she left for New York to ask where our quarterly earnings were from Brockwell Industries.”
“And what did he tell her?”
“Not a lot. I think he’s holding back on us. He’s strangely calm these days. Maybe he’s taken up yoga or something. I’m guessing he has no money to give us because he’s already spent it. He’s probably keeping a low profile to hide out from the loan sharks he owes money to.”
Since Adam Brockwell’s death, all his property had been sold off, and the profit was to be divided by his three children. It was Corey’s job to report back to his sisters on a quarterly basis with profits and losses. If it came to be that Corey was mishandling the business, then Nora and Lucy would step in.
“I heard he went on a terrible bender after the house sold,” Tatty said. For Corey Brockwell, a terrible bender meant gambling and lots of it.
“I’ll bet he’s gambled away all of his inheritance.”
“Well, if we don’t get something from Corey soon, we’re going to have to call Harvey, our father’s lawyer.”
Tatty looked at her watch. “I left Ed planting flowers on the walk. It’s best not to let him alone to long. He tends to take a nap.” She looked around the empty lobby. “You know, and I’m not being critical here, but it seems if you have a big convention crowd, I would expect to see more people.”
“The opening cocktail party is at four in the banquet room.”
Tatty smiled. And put her nose up in the air. “A cocktail party in the banquet room, aren’t we fancy.”
“That’s cat fanciers to you.”
As Tatty picked up her purse, a guest came in the door. The middle-aged woman struggled to balance her bags and Tatty, always helpful, extended her hands.
“Can I help carry something?” Tatty asked before Nora could. The woman nodded at her gratefully.
“If you would grab my book bag, that would great. Thank you so much, dear.”
“No problem,” Tatty responded. She gently took a fabric tote full of hardback books written by Evangeline Cartwright and placed it in front of Nora at the counter.
Nora smiled her best hospitality smile, “Welcome to the Tunie. I take it you’re here for the Meow Meetup?” As she finished her sentence a giant sneeze escaped. She didn’t see any cat hair on this woman, but her eyes began to water, and the inside of her nose tickled.
“I’ll see you back at the B&B and I’ll make sure Ed puts a fresh box of tissues in your room.”
“That would be great.” Nora answered after her, the red circles under eyes now standing out against the red of her hair. After checking in her latest guest, Nora remembered her promise to Wiley, and dialed the number for Moore’s Food. At her insistence she was put through to a manager.
“You say you checked with Beth this morning?”
“Yes, and she promised our chicken would be delivered by noon. We are still waiting for it, and we have a hotel full of guests expecting to eat.”
“Oh, my. Honestly, I’m new here, but let me just look …” there was the sound of papers shuffling on the other end, and then the woman returned to the phone. “You’re not going to believe this, but I just found your order underneath another. I’ll have the truck loaded in the next ten minutes. You should have your chicken soon.”
“That’s wonderful. Thank you. What is your name?”
“Val. I just signed on as office manager over here, frankly, I think I was hired because this kind of thing keeps happening. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to ride along with the driver just to make sure you get your chicken, and please, accept my apologies.”
“Thank you so much, Val.”
“Thank you for putting up with this malarkey. The Tunie should be treated with respect. It’s a town landmark for goodness sake.”
Feeling good about her call with Moore Foods, Nora stepped away from the front desk and found Wiley in the kitchen. He was pulling out giant bags of flour, causing a haze of white powder to float everywhere. This wouldn’t be gluten-free night for sure. “Hey Wiley, you should have your chicken in the next hour. Check to see if you have everything you need to get to work.”
Wiley grumbled, “Professionally trained chef and I’m frying up a mess of chicken.”
Chapter 8
W
When Nora returned, a couple of guests were lined up to check in. Marty leaned over the desk balancing precariously on one foot.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was checking the webcam of the lobby on my phone and saw there were some new guests needing to be checked in. I thought for sure I could take care of at least one guest.” Ma
rty had put the webcam in months ago thinking it would be a terrific way for her to watch the front desk if she didn’t have somebody to cover it. Nora didn’t expect it to become a reason for Marty to hobble down from her apartment. Marty flashed an ankle that was now turning a serious shade of purple. “Look. The swelling is going down.”
The woman at the counter cringed.
“Excuse her ma’am,” Nora said to the woman at the front of the line. She just wanted to make sure you were being taken care of and we hope you enjoy the convention.” Nora turned back to Marty.
“You should be upstairs resting. I don’t care who you see on that webcam. We have it under control.”
“I know. I know. It’s just so hard to be upstairs while all of this is going on down here. On top of everything else, after I checked in one guest, the software stopped working. I can’t believe it. I keep trying to put in in the name but the software freezes.” Marty furiously tapped on the computer as if the pressure she put on the tiny plastic keys would make a difference. “Do you have any idea what might be going on?”
Nora looked at the computer screen as it flashed a warning box she had never seen before. She reached to the side of the computer and flipped it off.
“Oh, my God, what are you doing?” Marty’s skin took on an even paler shade.
“You said you wanted me to fix it. Sometimes the best thing you can do for a computer is give it a time out.”
“This is not a misbehaving child.”
“Oh, yes, it is.” Nora flipped the switch again, and the computer began rebooting. Marty’s exhaustion was evident as she leaned on one elbow. The computer beeped, and the home screen began to come up.
“There you go. Up and running.” As Nora finished her sentence a sneeze engulfed her. These allergies were going to be the death of her. The woman with the cell phone ended up being in the direct line of fire. She stepped back again bumping into someone behind her.
“Really.” Her voice was drawn out showing great disdain.