The pounding began to slow. "Yes, he just went to his room to get something but he'll be back any minute. Has there been a breakthrough?" I asked optimistically.
Detective Logan scratched his head but didn't answer as Mark turned the corner and jogged downstairs, his laptop case in hand. Mark waved when he saw us together and walked over. "Mr. Boudreaux, we have a warrant to search your room and your possessions. Let's go," said Detective Logan without preamble.
"Are you serious?" asked Mark.
"Sam, what's going on?" I asked, looking between them for something I missed. Mark looked as perplexed as I felt. "Why do you want to search Mark's room?"
"I'm not at liberty to say." Detective Logan looked around, and put out his hand as Dina Preston came across the room. She gave a worried look to each of us then fixed on Logan.
"What's going on?" she asked, shaking his hand in a business-like manner. "I hope you're not harassing my guests."
Detective Logan ignored her as he looked coolly at Mark. "You can either open the room, or I can have it opened."
"Here; take my key card," said Mark. He fished it from his pocket and held it out. "I have nothing to hide."
"Let's go." Mark and Detective Logan walked up first, then the two officers. Since no one told me not to, I followed behind with Dina.
Dina reached for my arm. "I don't like this," she said softly. "What's going on?"
"I don't know but I'm sure it'll be over quickly," I said, hoping I didn't sound as worried as I felt. What did Detective Logan expect to find in Mark's room?
I didn't get a chance to ask as we reached the second floor and followed Mark to his room. Detective Logan let them inside with Mark's key card. In the entryway, Detective Logan turned and instructed him to wait outside with an officer. Logan and the second officer pulled on gloves and stepped in.
Silence stretched on as we waited. When Detective Logan stepped out again, he wore a grim expression. "Can you explain this?" he asked, holding up a plastic baggie. Inside was a scrunched-up piece of paper, splattered with something dark.
Mark shook his head. "What is it?" he asked.
"Another page of the missing manuscript. The fiction on the page describes how a murder was planned. Can you explain it now?"
Mark flashed me a wild look. "No, Detective, I can't!"
Chapter Thirteen
I paced the small lobby of the Calendar Police Department, stopping only when a young woman breezed past me. Pausing at the desk, she announced loudly, "I'm Alyssa Michaels, reporter for the Calendar Times and I need an update on the arrest of…" She looked down and checked her notepad before saying, "Mark Boudreaux."
"Can't help you with that, ma'am," said the officer. He set down his newspaper, picked up his coffee cup and sipped it, entirely unperturbed despite the urgency of her request.
"But Mr. Boudreaux was arrested last night?"
The officer shrugged.
"I heard it on the police scanner!"
The officer placed his cup down very deliberately and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Why are you asking if you already know the answer?" he asked.
"It's my job. I have to ask."
"I know. You say that every time you come in."
"So are you going to give me an answer? Or shall I print that you're obstructing my report?" She tapped her fingers on the desk, an annoying darum-darum-darum rhythm. "I know your name, Officer... uh..."
"Ortiz," he supplied. "Same as it's always been. What do you want to know?"
"Was Mr. Boudreaux arrested last night?"
"Yep."
"For the murder of his colleague, Esther Drummond?"
"Yep."
"And he was also in possession of incriminating evidence?"
"Yep."
"Aw, c'mon. Can you say anything else?" she asked, growing exasperated.
The officer fixed her with a look. "Nope," he said.
"I need a good quote... oh, never mind. Where's Detective Logan?"
The officer picked up his newspaper and turned the page. "Busy."
"I need to speak to him or I'm going to print your name and say you refused to comment on behalf of Calendar PD."
"Makes a short article," he replied, this time without looking up. I saw the edges of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.
"Argh!" she yelled. "You are so infuriating! I'll be back later and you can be sure this will be front page news."
"Send me a signed copy!" he called after her as she stormed out, ignoring me entirely.
I let out a relieved breath, realizing how tensely I held my shoulders as I listened to their exchange. It was bad enough Mark had gotten arrested but to know that the local newspaper intended to run a front-page story was just terrible. Since Mark and Esther both had a newsworthy connection to my alter ego, Alyssa Michaels might start digging around for more dirt; and then there was always the chance the story would be picked up by national papers. If that happened, Mark Boudreaux's name would be mud.
I resumed pacing, wondering when Detective Logan would come out and see me. He sent me home last night after I followed him to the police station, telling me there was no need for me to wait. But since Mark didn't answer my numerous calls, I returned to the station first thing this morning. Checking my watch, I realized it had only been thirty minutes since I arrived but it felt like hours. How long did Logan intend to make me wait?
"You're going to wear the floor out," said Officer Ortiz.
"Huh?" I looked up, realizing he was watching me.
"You want some coffee? Nixon just refilled the pot."
"Oh, no, thanks."
"Pacing won't help. Detective Logan will come out when he's ready."
Detective Logan rounded the corner and Officer Ortiz gave a flourish of his hands as if to say, “See?”
"Where's Mark?" I asked as I rushed over to Logan. "He didn't do this and you know it!"
"Come on back," said Detective Logan, signaling with a toss of his head for me to follow.
"Have you interviewed him all night?" I pressed. "He needs legal representation and..."
"No, he slept in one of the cells overnight."
"Oh, my gosh! You locked him up!" I gaped at him.
"I did arrest him," pointed out Detective Logan. We walked past his office and I grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Mark wouldn't do that. There's evidence. He has an alibi and there're cameras in the lobby that recorded when he left and returned to the hotel. Besides, we just found out that Esther did know someone else in town and..."
"Yeah, I know," said Detective Logan, surprising me into silence. "This way."
I hurried after him as he strode to the back of the station, past the interview rooms to where the cells were. I'd never had the misfortune to be back there before and never really thought much about it, although my high school buddies, Rob and Tony, once spent the night there when they were busted for underage drinking. The walls were whitewashed, the two cells spartan, and a couple of chairs were placed against the wall in the corridor. Mark sat in the further cell with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He’d changed his clothes since I last saw him. Strangely, the cell door was open.
"Hey," Mark said, looking up and smiling. "When did you get here?"
I stopped in the doorway, my jaw dropping. This wasn't the scene I expected. Instead of looking tired, harried, and distraught at being arrested for murder, Mark seemed relaxed.
"Take a seat," said Detective Logan. He pointed inside the cell. "We need to fill you in on a few details."
"Okay," I said, utterly confused. I perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. Mark folded the newspaper and dropped it on the floor.
"First things first, sorry for worrying you," said Mark. He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. "Everything's okay."
"What do you mean it's okay? You're in a jail cell."
"With an open door and a really nice breakfast from the café we went to yesterday."
"The
muffins are good, huh?" added Detective Logan.
I looked between the two of them. "I don't understand what's going on."
Detective Logan grabbed the old, wooden chair and moved it closer to the bed, then sat in it. "It's like this," he began. "That tip off we got last night didn't feel right. For a start, the finger was pointed directly at Mark and there was some suspicious detail about where to find the missing manuscript page from Mrs. Drummond's room. Not many people know who Mark is, much less his connection to the victim, so that seemed odd. Then the idea that he would commit a murder and toss a piece of blood-stained evidence in the wastebasket in his hotel room? That’s just plain dumb. Someone set him up, and someone was playing me. I may be a small-town detective, but I'm not an idiot."
"So you're saying Mark didn't do it?" I clarified. "And he's not under arrest?"
"He was for a few minutes last night. I figured it was better to pick him up and bring him down to the station for his own good."
"For his own good..." I repeated, thinking hard. "Was Mark in any danger?"
"Possibly. Someone definitely wanted to frame him, but I already confirmed his alibi with the guy whose tire he changed that night and we saw the footage of him leaving and arriving back at the hotel. He didn't kill Mrs. Drummond."
"Someone just wants Sam to believe I killed her," added Mark.
"Then how did the... Oh!" I dropped my head back as I realized. "Someone planted that manuscript page in your room. But how? They must have had access, and that means the murderer must work at the hotel!"
"Got it in a nutshell," said Detective Logan.
"So Mark's free to go?" I glanced at him, feeling relieved when he smiled. I'd been prepared to fight in his corner, and argue with Detective Logan that he was innocent. I even had the number for a lawyer in my pocket! I didn't know what to do with all the tense energy building inside me now that I had nowhere to go.
"Not exactly. Right now, I want the person who framed him to think they're getting away with it. At least for as long as I continue to investigate. That means Mark has to remain here a while longer."
"But I saw a reporter outside! She's going to run a story."
"Not if I ask her to wait a bit longer in order to give her a better story."
"You can do that?"
"I can try. I'm very persuasive."
"Mark?" I turned to him.
"Sam explained his plan to me last night and I agree with him. Someone tried to set me up. I never saw that manuscript or that page before and I certainly didn't put it in the trash! If this ruse helps catch them, I'm ready to go along with it."
"I guess it's decided then," I said. The pair of them seemed quite happy with the plan. Not only that, but chummy too now they were on first name terms. "Please tell me you already know who the real murderer is."
"I can't tell you anymore about the case. My best advice is to go home, follow your normal routine, tell no one about this plan, and I'll call you when I make an arrest."
"And what about Mark?"
"I'm staying at the Hotel PD," quipped Mark. "I'll be fine, Ava."
"What if more evidence turns up against you?" I asked. Instead of feeling confident with their plan, I began to worry more. So much could go wrong.
"That crossed my mind but I think while Mark is here, whoever is trying to set him up will assume their plan succeeded. All you can do now is go home and, like I said, don't tell anyone. Can I trust you to do that?"
"Of course I won't say a thing!" I got to my feet, still somewhat incredulous. However, I was rather impressed at how quickly Detective Logan managed to see through the set-up and had already devised his own plan. He was right; Mark would be safer there than anywhere else.
"And stay away from the hotel. The killer has already murdered one person, and is trying to set up an innocent man. I don't want you asking anymore questions and making them think they have to get rid of you too."
"Thanks for coming by," said Mark. He stood, crossing the few steps between us, and wrapping me up in an unexpected hug. He whispered in my ear and then stood back, smiling at me. "It's good to have someone else on my team."
"Can I come by again?" I asked. "Do you need any company? Books? Magazines? Maybe a jigsaw puzzle?" I grasped for anything he might possibly agree to. Despite the safety aspect, the cell was still just that, pitifully bare. I didn't want to leave but I knew I had to. Word would soon get around if I were camped out at the police station, but no one would think anything of Detective Logan letting me visit for a few minutes.
"I'll call you when there's any news," said Detective Logan. He ushered me out of the cell. Inside, Mark sat down again and put his feet up on the cot.
"You know you can't keep him here forever," I commented as we left. I gave Mark one last glance over my shoulder. Mark waved cheerfully then blew me a kiss. What was I supposed to make of that? "What if you don't find Esther's killer, who must be the person trying to frame him?" I asked, glancing backwards again, but this time, Mark was lost from sight.
"Let me worry about that. C'mon, I'll walk you out."
~
I sat outside the station in my car, wondering what on earth I should do next. Detective Logan insisted I should go home, talk to no one and butt out. I was pleased that Sam hadn't fallen for the obvious plant and glad that he continued to look for the real suspect rather than making an easy arrest. Mark very covertly whispered in my ear, "My password is around the world, no spaces." He could only mean the password for his laptop, which he pressed into my arms when Sam arrested him the evening before.
Since I didn't think he wanted me to answer his emails or check his calendar, I was sure he'd given me the password for only one reason: so I could view the hotel footage he emailed to himself. Did that mean he wanted me to continue looking into Esther's murder? Alone?
Even though Detective Logan seemed reasonably assured that there wouldn't be another lame attempt at framing Mark, I couldn't agree with his assessment. One bit of evidence would be easy for a hotshot lawyer to argue away, but two or three pieces? No one knew how far the murderer was willing to go to hide their tracks. With Mark safely ensconced in a jail cell, protected by Calendar's finest, it was now my solo mission to keep looking out for him.
When my phone rang, I jumped. Realizing what the ringing sound was, I blew out a relieved breath and answered. "Hello?"
"Hi, is that Ava? Ava March?" asked the woman's voice.
"Yes, this is she," I said in the tone of phone voice my mother would have been proud of.
"It's Dina Preston, manager of the Maple Tree Hotel. I hope you don't mind me calling," said Dina. "I wasn't sure who else to call and you're listed as Mrs. Drummond's emergency contact."
"Is this about Esther?" I asked. "I'll try and help however I can."
"Yes... that is, it's more about her colleague, Mark Boudreaux. There's no easy way to say this, but you're the only person who knows him. All the guests and employees have been so worried since he was arrested last night. For their safety, I can't have him returning to the hotel."
"He might not even be guilty," I told her. "Nothing's been proven yet." That wasn't defying Detective Logan's orders, or was it?
"I know. Innocent until prove guilty, and I really hope he's not responsible for that dreadful... The thing is, Ava, after Mrs. Drummond was murdered, and now another guest has been arrested, I can't risk possibly damaging the hotel's reputation any further. We have the summer tourist season coming up and our regular ski visitors too..."
"How can I help?" I asked.
"Please could you just collect Mr. Boudreaux's things? As soon as possible? I can have everything packed up for you, if you like, but I really must insist that his things be immediately removed from the hotel. Both he and Esther prepaid for their initial nights, and under the circumstances, I don't feel comfortable taking anymore money from Mr. Boudreaux."
"I understand you, but won't that make people even more suspicious of Mark?" I asked.
&nbs
p; "I'm afraid that's really not my problem. How soon can you come?"
"I'll come over right now," I told her. "I'll pack Mark's things and take them to my house."
"I'm so sorry to put you in this uncomfortable position," she said, sounding deeply but awkwardly apologetic.
"Don't worry anymore. I'll be there in a few minutes." I hung up, the knot of anxiety churning my stomach. There was no point running back to the police station and worrying Mark any further. He may have even expected this would happen. Instead, I would do as I said: collect his things and store them at my house. Mark had somewhere to stay for now, and I would help him find another room for the rest of his visit. Not that he would want to stay in Calendar any longer! After being accused of Esther's murder, however briefly, he probably couldn't wait to get out of Calendar and never come back. Accompanying my anxiety came a new feeling: disappointment. I didn't want Mark to leave; I wanted to see him again.
I wasn’t feeling any better by the time I pulled up in front of the hotel. Yes, it was against Detective Logan's instructions but he hadn't given me a strict order, and even if he did, I wasn't bound by any kind of law to obey it. Plus, what else would he expect me to do? Dina Preston made it very clear Mark was being eighty-sixed. Acting on the assumption that someone was prepared to tamper with his things, I absolutely refused to let his suitcase linger in the hotel any longer. No, it was best that I collect his things and store them at my house where they would be safely away from any tampering.
"Hi!" Janey waved to me from the desk as I entered the hotel, crossing the lobby to her. "I am so sorry," she said, dropping her voice when I reached her. "Dina just told me. I'm supposed to call her as soon as you get here."
"There's nothing to be sorry about," I said. "It's not your fault."
"I don't believe for a minute that he did it, you know. Mr. Boudreaux is really nice."
"I'm sure he'll appreciate you saying that. Are the other guests worried?"
"A few of them mentioned his arrest today and we did get a couple of cancellations after the murder. Have you seen him?"
Murder in March Page 13