A Sneeze to Die For

by Teresa Trent

  “I’m so sorry. Did I get you?” The woman’s eyes rolled in answer to Nora’s question. “Who knew it? Funny thing, actually. I’m allergic to cats, and it seems, people who live with cats.” Nora gave a quick smile as the computer continued to warm up and then turned Marty in the direction of the elevators. “I’ll take care of this. You go back upstairs.” She looked at the guest who had put away her cell phone and now was tapping her leopard skin Keds against the red lobby carpet.

  Nora motioned her forward, “I’ll check you in now.”

  “Well, it’s about time,” the guest snapped.

  As Marty released her hold on the desk she said to Nora, “You’re a godsend did you know that? Thanks for being here. Maybe I’ll just take a little nap. It is starting to ache a little.”

  “Just remember we can handle this, especially with the new hires. We are all trained to do this. We just have to figure out how to do it for more people.”

  “You’re right. I was being silly. I leave the hotel in your capable hands.” Marty said as she made her way to the stairway door.

  The booking software came up refreshed and ready to work. “Thank God for that,” Nora whispered to herself revealing that she had been unsure her quick fix would’ve worked. She checked in the guest with great efficiency, wanting to get the woman and her attitude out of the lobby.

  Evangeline Cartwright came out of the stairwell. Upon seeing the police walking around the lobby, she lowered her chin to her chest.

  “What happened? I’m afraid I slept like a baby last night,” Evangeline asked.

  This was amazing because an entire crime scene had been set up right outside her door. “You didn’t hear anything?”

  “No. It’s strange because usually, I have trouble sleeping when I’m traveling. I guess the Tunie must feel like home to me. What happened?”

  Nora continued checking in the next customer while carrying on her conversation with Evangeline. “The reporter who was badgering you at dinner, you didn’t happen to know him, did you?”

  “I never laid eyes on him until last night. He certainly was a disagreeable little man.”

  “That disagreeable little man was found dead today,” Nora told her. The guest, who had been putting away her credit card nearly dropped her entire bag on the carpet.

  “You’re on the third floor,” Nora said handing her a room key. “We hope you enjoy your stay at the Tunie.” The lady was reluctant to leave, but gave Nora a quick smile and headed for the elevator. Nora turned back to Evangeline in conspiratorial fashion.

  Evangeline gulped. “Okay. What happened?”

  Not wanting to give any more guests a chance to hear crime details, Nora answered her in a soft voice. Something like that could spread through a crowd like wildfire and the Tunie would never see another convention booking again. She had already probably set the wheels in motion by talking in front of the last guest. She would have to be more careful from here on out. It could be very bad for their bottom line especially if they decided that the poor maintenance of the elevator was at fault. “He sort of fell down the elevator shaft.” As warm and lovely Evangeline was to be around, she just couldn’t tell her it was being looked at as a murder.

  “I see. That would explain the police being on my floor. That’s terrible. Just terrible.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t hear it.” Nora looked up at the glass lobby door to see a new set of guests get out of a minivan. Upon entering they formed a line at the front desk. One woman looked Evangeline’s way and, after rustling in her purse, stepped over with a pristine paperback copy of a novel.

  The woman held out the book under Evangeline’s nose. “Would you sign this for me?”

  “Certainly, do you have a pen?”

  The hotel guest gave Evangeline a brown cat-paw-covered pen.

  Max strolled into the lobby wearing a three-piece suit complete with vest. Nora noticed his hair had taken on a bit more of a brown tint. The vest was blue and white striped reminding Nora of an outfit that might be worn by a member of a barbershop quartet. They exchanged a glance.

  “Is Marty upstairs?” he said, his eyes darting around the lobby. The phone rang immediately.

  “Yes. She came down a minute ago when she saw a customer on her lobby webcam.”

  “And you let her?”

  “I couldn’t stop her.” The phone began to ring, and Nora picked it up. “Front desk.”

  “Tell Max I appreciate him dressing up for the convention, but why doesn’t he take off that coat and vest? Our guests will start asking him if his ice cream truck is outside.”

  “Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker and you can tell him yourself.” Nora punched the button on the phone and went back to checking in the guests.

  Marty’s voice came out of the phone speaker. “Max? A little overdressed for the Tunie don’t you think?”

  “Just showing a little professionalism, my dear. I’m thinking maybe we need a dress code for behind the desk.” Max straightened his tie and pulled down the seat of his jacket.

  “I didn’t know men even wore three pieced suits anymore,” Nora said trying to think of the last time she saw a man in a vest.

  “I’m trying to look like Tom Selleck in Blue Bloods.”

  Nora nodded but had a tough time seeing any sort of a resemblance to the television actor.

  “Not working?”

  Nora shrugged. She couldn’t hurt this sweet bear of a man, so as her mother would have told her, if you can’t say something nice … Without warning a thunderous sneeze came out of her. The woman who was trying to check in flinched at the oncoming nasal avalanche.

  “I think I’ll get a drink, and then I’ll head upstairs to check on Marty. You can handle it for a few minutes, right? I, uh, brought her something.” Max ambled over to the snack alcove and started reaching for his normal soft drink, but then switched at the last moment to bottled water. He was really making some changes.

  “Sure. Take your time.”

  After Evangeline finished signing the book she turned back to Nora and raised her hand speaking out of earshot of the guests in the conspiratorial fashion.

  “I’m allergic to the little beasts myself.” Surprised by Evangeline’s frank confession, Nora was relieved her sneezing wasn’t misinterpreted as someone who hated cats.

  Evangeline patted Nora on the shoulder. “Some breeds of cats cause people to sneeze. Did you know cats can put humans in the hospital with upper respiratory problems?”

  “I had no idea how contagious I was until this convention.”

  “ I’ve been to many of these conventions, and I have to tell you, being in your quaint hotel has been a very comfortable thing for me. No wonder I slept through a police investigation. You have provided more than hospitality here, but a feeling of home.”

  “Thank you, I really appreciate that, and we are honored to serve you,” Nora said.

  Tuck stepped into the lobby holding on to the manuscript encased in a transparent plastic bag, the ripped mailing envelope now stained with fingerprint dust.

  “Izzy’s manuscript! I can’t thank you enough,” Nora placed a kiss on Tuck’s cheek.

  “If that’s my payment, no you can’t.” Tuck grinned and then stepped over to the coffee alcove for a honeybun. “We picked up the loose pages and returned them to the envelope, but it’s a mess. By the way, if you are going to be having crime scenes here at the hotel, you’ll need to be stocking a lot more donuts over here. I’ll put a dollar in the till for the bun.”

  “I know you will,” Nora said as she began to fan Max with a folder.

  “And this accident scene will be our last. Don’t expect a return engagement.”

  “Would your find have anything to do with the hopeful writer I met last night, or is this your manuscript?” Evangeline said, eyeing the plastic bag.

&n
bsp; “Nope. Not mine. I’m more of a true crime guy myself. Your hopeful writer wanted us to deliver this to you, but we need to check for prints on all three hundred pages inside.”

  Evangeline smiled wistfully. “Well, then. I’m sure the writer wanted that story to have a thorough going-over, but maybe this was not what she had in mind.”

  A deep cloying smell of perfume reached Nora’s nose before a woman in sleek black leggings and a white frilly halter top stepped into the lobby. She pulled off her oversized sunglasses to reveal stunning hazel eyes, rimmed in gold. They had been artfully lined with black eyeliner tipping up in the corners making her resemble a cat. Tuck turned around taking a view of the sexy cat lady slinking toward the check-in line.

  Tuck turned his back to Nora. “I can see you’re getting busy. I should get going. It was nice meeting you, Miss Cartwright, and for your sake I hope the rest of your stay is uneventful.”

  As Tuck spoke, the darkly beautiful woman turned and leaving her place in line she strolled over to the group and extended a hand to Evangeline.

  “Hello, Miss Cartwright. What an honor to meet you. I’m Sasha LeClaire and would love to get an interview for my website, Cat Aficionado. I am not much of the mystery reader myself. I prefer literary fiction but many of my readers seem to have a liking for your work. It could be fun.” Sasha LeClaire’s complement was the highest form of passive aggression, but Evangeline did not seem to be concerned by it.

  “Oh, yes. I’m familiar with your website. If we can work you in, I’d be glad to speak with you.”

  “Perrrfect,” Sasha said, fluttering her eyelashes in Tuck’s direction, her gaze held him for a moment and then moved back to Evangeline. Color rose to his cheeks. “It is always so good for me to diversify on my website. I tend to focus more on cat health, but don’t you just love a delightful story about cats?”

  Her almond shaped eyes zeroed back in on Tuck who gulped and repeated. “I’m more of a true crime guy myself.”

  Chapter 9

  W

  An hour later most of the guests had gone to their rooms, but a few still trickled in.

  “Excuse me,” a woman with tightly curled blond hair stood in front of the check-in desk. Where others had climbed off the van from the airport with various T-shirts and sweatshirts sporting the pictures of cats, she wore a suit jacket with a flowing silk blouse underneath and a well–fitted skirt. She looked comfortable in her matching heels, indicating she was a woman who wore dress shoes most of the time.

  “Yes, how can I help you?” Nora answered.

  “I’m Camille Martin-Ortega, the organizer of the Meow Meetup. I had a few concerns I needed to discuss with the owner. Can you get him on the phone for me?”

  “I can help you,” Nora assured her.

  “I appreciate your can-do spirit, but just get your boss on the phone.”

  “I am the boss. I’m one of the owners of the Tunie.” The convention organizer paled, but then went on as if her sexist slight was of no importance.

  “I see. Well, you certainly could have said something. I find it inconsiderate of you to make me feel foolish.”

  “My apologies. You had some concerns?”

  “Yes. When we booked this hotel for our convention, the girl on the phone promised us that this was a top–quality establishment. Not everyone was in tune with our needs, so we settled on a venue that was slightly out-of-the way. We are one of the smaller cat gatherings in the United States, but hope to grow in the future. Since checking in, there has been a man killed due to an inoperative elevator, and now we are finding that this is only a one-star hotel. Frankly, the whole thing reeks of false advertising.”

  “I can assure you the one-star rating is a mistake.” Nora knew it was wrong to think ill of the dead, but Alan Shaw was responsible for this.

  “Time to wake up and smell the litter box, my dear,” the convention organizer stated. “That many people leaving a one-star rating is no mistake. Your guests have spoken, and clearly this hotel has failed.”

  “If I could just explain …”

  Camille Martin-Ortega raised a palm to the air. “Considering this undisclosed information and the health hazards my association members have faced at the Tunie, I am demanding a discount. I believe fifty percent would be a proper reimbursement.” Her tightly held curls bobbed just a bit as she stood firm with her chin raised in the air.

  “I’ll need to speak to my partner about your concern Miss Ortega …”

  “Martin-Ortega,” she corrected.

  Whatever, Nora thought.

  After the pushy organizer of the Meow Meetup left, Nora thought of Marty and the trust she had placed in her. Now that they had booked this convention, the hotel had a better chance of booking other gatherings. Nora had taken it upon herself to start contacting state organizations to see if the Tunie was a good fit. To prepare for the Meow Meetup, Marty and Nora had invested in many extras that had eaten the savings they had worked so hard to collect. If they had to cut the cost of the convention guests’ room fee in half, they would lose money.

  Nora pulled herself together and put on a smile as a group of ladies came from the dining room.

  “Hope you enjoyed your lunch, ladies,” Nora said.

  “It was just incredible food!”

  “I’ll be sure and tell the cook. Thank you so much for your compliments.”

  “It was quite a surprise,” one woman said. “When we were told we were coming to a small town in Texas, the last thing we thought we were going to get would be decent food. I’m going to remember this place.”

  “Those are wonderful words to hear ladies. I hope you enjoy your afternoon.” It was slowing down in the lobby and Nora was about to check Rate Your Hotel to make sure no more reviews had popped up. After hearing the glowing words of the convention guests, she would hate for that last batch of satisfied customers to read the lies Alan Shaw had left. Before Nora could pull up the website, Bert Hickelby of Hickelby’s Motor Lodge came into the lobby with two cheap leatherette bags that Nora immediately recognized. He threw them on the floor.

  “Here ya’go.” After dropping the bags, he threw both hands up in the air in finality.

  Nora eyed the luggage. “What am I supposed to do with these bags?”

  “Whatever you want to. You dumped this guy on me and then you killed him in that contraption you call an elevator before he paid his bill.”

  “Didn’t you take a credit card?”

  “Hickelby’s Motor Lodge deals on a cash-only basis.”

  Nora well understood why Hickelby operated on cash instead of credit. The Motor Lodge was a favorite of cheating spouses in the area. No paper trails.

  “I believe I’m entitled to the cost of his room rent for one night. He disappeared, and I was unable to rent the room to anyone else. I lost out on a night’s rent and when it comes to money, it is no joking matter over at Hickelby’s. You may be running a big mega-hotel here, but over at Hickelby’s we are still a small-time family enterprise. I’ll wait while you write me a check.”

  Bert Hickelby stood tapping his toe, waiting for Nora’s response. His rabbit-like eyes darted back and forth. He was playing a game with her. Hotels had to absorb costs from no-show guests every day. If he took a loss on a guest, that was his problem, not the Tunie’s. Nora gave him a slow steady look making him think she was considering his demand.

  “Do you know what, Bert? I think you’re just going to have to eat the cost of one night’s rent on your brother-in-law’s old room.”

  His eyes widened, and his bottom lip trembled a bit. “Do you know how much money that is?”

  “Forty dollars?” Nora guessed.

  He put a hand to his throat in mock terror. “I am insulted! We raised the rates to forty-six ninety-nine last April. We wanted to discourage the riff-raff. If you want to round it up to an even
fifty, I won’t complain.”

  “You are too kind.” He brightened up at that thinking that he had just made a deal. Nora continued. “What am I supposed to do with these bags?”

  “I guess you should call wherever this dude worked and ask where to send them. I, myself, Bert Hickelby, refuse to put up with the cost of shipping some loser dead guy’s luggage. I heard that Yankee accent. That should’ve been my first clue that something like this would happen. Postage up North is probably astronomical.”

  “Fine. I’ll make you a deal.”

  Bert Hickelby smacked his lips. “I knew you had a head for business, little lady.”

  “You eat the cost of the room, and I’ll take care of Alan Shaw’s luggage.”

  Nora crossed her arms, feet firm on the ground. She wasn’t budging, and it didn’t take long for Bert Hickelby to see that.

  “You can’t be serious. It was because you lost his reservation that he was dumped on our fine establishment. No. This will not do.”

  “Fine. No deal at all and you take the luggage back. It was not nice doing business with you.” Nora gave a forced smile and then turned her back on him straightening the papers on the copy machine.

  Bert Hickelby was getting nowhere fast. “Okay. Okay fine. Have it your way. We’ll forget about the cost of the room, and you get this guy’s bags off my hands. I still don’t like it, but because I’m a man of compromise, you have a deal.” He reached down and fingered the plastic vinyl of the bags. “These are pretty nice bags here. I’m not quite sure if this was fair …”

  Nora came around the desk to pick up the bags, stopped and put both hands on Bert’s shoulders. She turned him toward the door and gave him a slight push. “Don’t worry. I won’t be cashing in on the bags. Pleather doesn’t bring the dollar it used to,” she called after him as he walked out.

  Chapter 10

  W

  Nora pulled Alan Shaw’s luggage behind the desk. She would have to notify Tuck about them. He would need them for his investigation. She had a few minutes to look, so she hoisted one of the bags on the counter. She unzipped it and looked inside. Nothing was out of order here. There were several changes of clothes, underwear that had seen better days, and a copy of the cat magazine where he said he worked. Maybe that would be where she could start to find his mailing address. As she searched, there wasn’t anything in the bag that left a trail of clues about his assignment to interview Evangeline Cartwright. There wasn’t a notebook or anything that seem to have anything to do with the mystery writer.