Cinderella and the Cyanide

by Amorette Anderson

  Evian, standing at Serena’s side, spoke in a commanding tone. “You heard what the officer said, Serena. You have the right to stay silent. Use that right—don’t say a word.”

  “Ma’am,” the beak-nosed officer said to Evian. “I need to ask you to back up.” He began leading the crying Serena towards the double doors.

  Cinda quickened her step, hurrying across the lobby. It looked like the police were carting Serena off, but not Evian. I have to hurry up and tell them that this Evian lady is involved, she realized.

  The fresh-faced officer stood by on his radio. As soon as he ended his transmission, Cinda caught his attention with a wave. As she neared, she said, “Excuse me, could I talk to you?”

  Evian still had her eyes locked on Serena, who was now just ten feet from the lobby’s street exit. “Don’t say a word to them! Not until we get you lawyered up. I’m going to call the best lawyers I know from New York City and get them over here as soon as possible. Do you understand, Serena? Not a word!”

  Serena nodded just as the beak-nosed officer dragged her out the door.

  Evian cursed under her breath, and then turned on her heel and made a beeline for the bank of elevators.

  “What can I help you with, ma’am?” the fresh-faced officer asked Cinda.

  Cinda pointed to Evian. “That’s her!” she whispered urgently. “The woman I overheard talking to Serena during my lunch break!”

  The officer raised his brows. “Evian Larouche?”

  Cinda nodded. “Yes, yes! Evian. She’s Serena’s agent, I believe. I heard she can be very controlling.”

  “For a member of the cleaning staff, you sure know a lot about this hotel,” the officer muttered as he pulled a notepad from his chest pocket.

  “I’m just picking things up as I go,” Cinda said. “Believe me—I don’t want to be involved in this. I just want to put my head down and work. But when I realized that the raspy-voiced woman I heard was Evian, I had to tell you.”

  She looked toward the elevator. Evian was stepping inside. The doors slid closed smoothly, and then Evian was out of sight. The numbers above the elevator lit up as it traveled and stopped on 3.

  “She’s going to the third floor, probably to her room,” Cinda said frantically. “Aren't you going to go after her?”

  The officer didn’t run toward the elevators, like Cinda hoped. Instead, he stayed put and said, “We found a plastic bag lined with white powder residue in Serena’s purse after she consented to have it searched. We’re going to do some tests on the bag, the cider, and Helena’s body, and if all three match up, then we’ll have enough evidence to put Serena on trial for killing Helena with poison. Unfortunately, the conversation you overheard isn’t enough for us to detain Evian—yet. We’re going to keep investigating.”

  “But—” Cinda said. She glanced at the elevator doors. “Until then, she’s just free to wander around here? What if she makes another move?”

  “If we try to bring her in early, without enough evidence, the whole case against her could get thrown out.”

  “But she could be dangerous,” Cinda said. “And she said ‘put it in his cider.’ That means she was trying to harm a man. The poison missed its mark. She might strike again.”

  The officer looked toward the street exit. His officers were moving Serena to a cop car parked outside, and it was clear that he wanted to join them. “You could have misheard the pronoun,” the officer said.

  “I didn't,” Cinda insisted. “I told you that. It was so quiet up there, and I’m sure of what I heard.”

  “We’ll be in touch,” the officer promised. Then he turned and jogged for the doors.

  Cinda watched him jump into the passenger side of the police cruiser. The car pulled away. Then she turned and examined the elevators.

  Evian had gone to the third story. There was only one listing on her cleaning checklist of rooms that had been occupied the night before that was on the third floor. All of the other rooms that were occupied Friday night were on the first and second floors.

  I know where she’s staying, Cinda thought. Maybe I should go talk to her.

  A shiver went down her spine at the thought of being alone with the possibly dangerous woman.

  It didn’t sound inviting.

  At that moment, her phone rang.

  It was Sara, a friend from the newspaper.

  She picked up and her friend started talking right away. “You won’t believe what came through the ‘24-7 News Leads’ website,” she said.

  Cinda groaned. Though Cinda worked for the Dayton City Newspaper, she wasn’t a hound for news stories like her coworkers. They were all constantly glued to the websites that announced potential news stories. Whenever there was a death, crime, or natural disaster in the city, her coworkers seemed to get excited.

  Unlike Cinda, who wrote about real estate no matter what kind of disasters were happening in the city, her friends at the paper relied on those kinds of stories to make a living.

  “What?” Cinda said flatly, though she knew it was probably Helena’s death.

  “There’s a suspected poisoning at The Palace,” Sara said. “I was in a meeting when the tip came in, and I just got out and had to call you right away. Is it true?”

  Cinda groaned again. “I refuse to just sit by as you revel in this tragedy,” she told Sara. “Can you at least try to sound a little bit upset? A girl died.”

  “I know, I know,” Sara said. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to tone it down—I know how sensitive you are. But can you just tell me—is it really true?”

  Cinda looked through the double doors to the empty street outside. “Yes,” she said. “And one of the models in the running for this brand ambassador contest was taken to the police station for questioning.”

  “Even better!” Sara said happily. “I’ve got to get to the hotel to get some quotes and pictures. This is going to be a big story.”

  “How big?” Cinda asked. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the police were missing the bigger picture. Helena was dead and Serena was arrested—but that left Evian and whoever she was really after out in the mix. Having a lot of press around would only cause even more chaos.

  “I don’t think it’s going to go national or anything,” Sara said. “People die every day, but it’s not common for a model to be accused of murder—on the day of a hotel’s grand opening, no less. I think at least the major papers in the state are going to want to cover it. You’ll probably see a handful of news vans show up within the hour.”

  “A handful? That’s not so bad,” Cinda said with relief. “I thought you were going to say that the whole country was going to show up. I don’t think that’d be good right about now. Sara, I don’t think this is over yet. I’m worried that there’s going to be another victim.”

  “What makes you say that?” Sara asked.

  Cinda looked to the elevator again. “I overheard two women talking about poisoning a man’s cider drink. Helena—the kitchen worker—died by mistake. I’m almost sure of it. That poison was intended for someone else.”

  “Who?” Sara asked.

  “Possibly the hotel owner,” Cinda said. “He’s a guy with a bad reputation and a bunch of enemies who might want him dead. One of the contestants, Pete, was just telling me about it.”

  Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She gasped, and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my gosh! I just realized who else the poison could have been intended for. Pete! He and Serena were neck-and-neck for being crowned as royalty at the party tonight. Maybe Evian wanted to get him out of the race!”

  “You lost me,” Sara said. “But don’t bother explaining again over the phone. I’m coming down there. Tell me everything when I see you in person. This sounds like a real story, hon. You’ve landed right in the middle of a murder case. I’m just down the block. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Meet me in the lobby?”

  “Okay,” Cinda said hesitantly.

  They hung up, and Cinda looked over at t
he bank of elevators again. I’ll wait to see what Sara thinks about visiting Evian, she decided. I have twenty minutes—I’d better go finish up room 207. I’m way behind schedule. It’s almost 2:00! There’s no way I’m going to finish this list on time.

  As she returned to her knees and scrubbed at the potatoey carpet, she contemplated her friend’s words. While being right in the middle of a murder case clearly sounded fun and exciting to Sara, given the way she was rushing down here to the hotel to be a part of it all, it was the last place that Cinda wanted to be.

  All she’d wanted was to finish cleaning and then have a quiet evening in her hotel room, drafting her article and then spending a few precious minutes with her paperback novel before getting a goodnight’s sleep.

  How did this happen? she wondered as she spritzed cleaning solution on the freshly scrubbed carpet. I wanted to have a quiet weekend of rest, and here I am slaving away at The Palace, while an evil modeling agent plots out a way to murder a potential prince. I might be the only person in the right position to save him. I’m the only one that heard what Evian said. The police don’t seem to care. It’s all up to me.

  This is not what I expected this weekend to be like.

  She finished scrubbing, and stood. A memory of Pete’s kind green eyes flashed through her mind, and she grinned.

  The feel of the smile on her lips surprised her.

  Meeting Pete was another unexpected turn of events. At least he was a good surprise.

  She walked over to the empty to-go box that Gretta had left behind and tossed it into the trash at one end of the cleaning cart. Then she used a rag to polish the table one last time.

  Maybe that’s how surprises go, Cinda thought as she placed a mint on each fluffed pillow and then gave the room a quick once-over. Some are rotten, but some are pleasant. I’ve been working so hard lately, I’ve been missing out on any surprises.

  She thought of Pete again.

  He really was cute.

  No—not just cute.

  The guy was drop-dead gorgeous.

  He was a model, after all. She might as well give credit where credit was due.

  She smiled as she thought of his curly brown hair, his high cheekbones, and his chiseled jaw. As she pushed the cleaning cart out of the room, she dreamily remembered what it felt like to walk next to him—how tall and strong and athletic he was, and how the air between them seemed to tingle with untapped energy whenever he got near.

  Maybe I should allow a little more room in my life for surprises, she thought, as she tucked the cart into a closet and headed for the lobby to meet Sara. It might be worth it—if some surprises are as wonderful as meeting Pete.

  5

  “This place is gorgeous,” Sara said as she greeted Cinda in the lobby.

  “Intriguing elegance—that’s the look they’re going for,” Cinda said. She sat in one of the modern black leather chairs that were scattered around the lobby.

  “I can see it,” Sara said, spinning to take in her surroundings. She then plopped down in a chair, too, and pulled out a notebook from her purse as she said, “So give me the whole scoop about the kitchen worker.”

  As Cinda filled her friend in on the scene she’d witnessed in the kitchen, Sara took notes.

  “And then the police carted Serena off, but I’m sure that Serena wasn’t the mastermind behind the whole plan,” Cinda said. “Her agent, Evian, told her to put a substance into the sparkling cider. Not only that, but the cider was meant for a man. My theory is that it was meant for Pete—though I haven’t confirmed it yet. Another possibility is that it was intended for Whistler Weston, the owner of this place—though I’m not sure why Evian would want him dead. Her motive for killing Pete is much clearer.”

  “Pete...” Sara said, while scribbling notes. “Tell me about this Pete character.”

  Cinda grinned, despite her best efforts not to. “He’s a guy who’s in the running to be crowned Prince of The Palace.” She waved her hand around the lobby. “The hotel is hosting a contest, you see, and one person will be voted in tonight at the grand opening party. That person will get to live here at The Palace full-time. In fact, I have to do a write up of the condo that they’re going to get.”

  “They’re going to get to live here for free?” Sara said.

  “Mm hmm,” said Cinda. “That’s part of the reward for being the face of The Palace, like I said. The winner gets permanent housing.”

  “Quite a prize,” Sara said, thinking this over.

  Cinda nodded. “It is, but the housing is just part of it. I think that the real prize being offered is status. Getting this gig would be a really big deal for whichever model is selected. Not only that, but it will impact the model’s agency, too. I think that Evian wanted Serena to be chosen so badly that she was willing to do whatever it took to get Pete out of the running.”

  Her smile faded as she thought again about the fact that Pete’s life might be in danger.

  “Tell me more about this Pete guy,” Sara said. “What’s he like?”

  Cinda glanced nervously at her friend’s pen and notebook. “You’re not going to quote me on this or anything, are you?” she asked.

  Sara laughed, and put the pen down. “No,” she said. “This isn’t official, Cinda. I’m just getting some background info so I can really start to build up an article about this murder case. Plus, I’m asking as a friend.”

  She lowered her tone to a whisper and said, “That little grin you just displayed says you’re into this guy. So—I’ve got to know about this mysterious man who’s making my friend smile like a lovestruck schoolgirl, don’t I?”

  Cinda felt herself blush. Had she really been so obvious about her feelings?

  She tried to control the corners of her mouth and prevent them from inching up higher on her cheeks. It was impossible. “He’s a model. You should see him—totally gorgeous. Tall, brown hair, and these big green eyes that kind of sparkle when he looks at you.” She looked down at her lap. “There’s no way he’d be into me.”

  “You’re a catch, Cinda,” Sara said. “This guy would be lucky to be with you. You should get to know him—ask him out for a drink this evening or something.”

  “I couldn’t do that,” Cinda protested.

  “Why not?” Sara asked. “You obviously have some kind of chemistry with the guy. I haven’t seen you get so worked up over a man—ever. Don’t you want to date?”

  “Sure, eventually,” Cinda said. “When the time is right. Not when I’m in the middle of a murder case—and those are your words, not mine.” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her brows at her friend.

  Sara chuckled. “Okay, the timing isn’t ideal. I’ll admit that. But even if things are a bit hectic right now, you could at least give him your number.”

  “I don’t think so,” Cinda said. “He’s probably not my type. I’m waiting for the right guy. I’m waiting for fireworks.”

  Sara sighed. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not on the set of a Hollywood movie, honey. You’re not going to get fireworks. You’re going to have to settle for something a little more realistic.”

  “You sound like Lonnie,” Cinda said.

  Sara grimace. “Yikes. I do? That’s not what I was going for. How about this—” She flipped her notebook closed, stuffed it into her purse, and then stood. “Let’s forget about your Prince Charming for the moment, and go track down this Evian woman. It sounds like she has some explaining to do.”

  Cinda didn’t stand. “I’ve been thinking about that...” she said. “Are you sure that’s a good move? She does have some explaining to do, but I have a feeling she’s not going to want to talk to us. We’re not police. We don’t have the authority to question her.”

  “Don’t you worry,” Sara said, offering Cinda her hand. “I’ve got a few reporter tricks up my sleeve.” She winked.

  Cinda accepted the help up. “Okay, let’s do it,” she said. “But first I have to go check in with the front d
esk staff and let them know that all of the rooms on the checklist they gave us won’t be done by two.”

  Marcus was very understanding, thankfully, and promised to start filling the rooms that had already been cleaned first. He asked that Cinda keep him updated, and Cinda promised to do so. Then Cinda and Sara headed for the staircase that would take them to the third floor.

  “She’s in room 314,” Cinda said as she consulted the spreadsheet on her clipboard. They reached the door, and Sara knocked.

  When Evian opened the door, the smell of cigarette smoke lingered around her like an aura.

  “I don’t want my room cleaned, thank you very much,” Evian said, eying Cinda.

  Sara interjected before Evian could swing the door shut. “We’re not here to clean,” she said. “We’re here as reporters from the Dayton City Newspaper. I’m Sara White and this is my associate, Cinda. Do you have a moment to answer some questions for us?”

  “No,” Evian said. She began closing the door.

  “A source tells me that you’re connected to Helena’s murder,” Sara said quickly. “I have compelling evidence that you’re actually the one who supplied the poison to Serena.”

  “Who told you that?” Evian said with a glare. “You’re not putting that in the paper, are you? You can’t print a thing like that. It’s libel.”

  “It’s not libel if it’s true,” Cinda said. “I heard you talking, down the hall there, by those conference rooms.” She pointed down the hallway. “I heard you telling Serena to put a substance into the cider.”

  Evian paled again. “I thought your voice sounded familiar. But you have no proof of that.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Sara interjected. “We’re reporters. We always carry recorders.” To emphasize her point, Sara extracted a thin, white recorder from the front pocket of her blouse.