The Malt in Our Stars

by Sarah Fox

  As I dashed down the corridor, I realized that I recognized the person lying on the carpet runner. Jan Finch was facedown on the floor, her toolbox on its side and what looked like a roll of papers sitting inches from one of her limp hands. The hair at the back of her head was matted with blood.

  I dropped to my knees at her side. “Jan?” I said, not expecting a response.

  She didn’t stir.

  Gemma gasped as she hurried toward me. “Is she really . . . ?”

  I pressed my fingers to the side of Jan’s neck. To my surprise, I felt a pulse.

  “She’s alive!” I could hardly believe it. “We need an ambulance!”

  Gemma repeated my words to someone else, and I heard shouting from downstairs, followed by more running footsteps.

  “Jean-Luc has first-aid training,” Gemma said as a middle-aged man with blond hair rushed down the corridor toward us. He wore a chef’s uniform and carried a first-aid kit.

  I backed away from Jan, wanting to make room for Jean-Luc. I tripped over the toolbox, catching myself against the wall before I fell. I shoved the toolbox aside with my foot and grabbed the roll of papers so neither would get in Jean-Luc’s way.

  “What happened?” Gemma asked, her eyes wide and her face pale.

  I joined her a few feet down the corridor while Jean-Luc assessed Jan’s condition.

  “It looks like she took a hit to the back of her head,” I said.

  Gemma let out a strangled sound of distress. “How can this be happening?” Her face had lost a startling amount of color.

  Alarmed, I took hold of her arm. “I think you should sit down.”

  Gemma nodded and pointed toward an alcove down the corridor. When we got there, I saw that there was a couch and two side tables facing the elevator. Gemma sank down onto the couch as soon as she reached it.

  “Maybe you should put your head down,” I suggested, still concerned by her pallor. “Or maybe I should get you some water.”

  Gemma waved off my concerns. “I’ll be all right. I just need to rest a moment.”

  Minutes later, I detected the sound of sirens drawing closer to the manor. “Help’s almost here.” I spoke more to myself than to Gemma.

  I was concerned for Jan. Although it was such a relief to know she was alive, she hadn’t shown any signs of regaining consciousness, and the wound on the back of her head looked like a nasty one. I wanted her in the care of the paramedics as soon as possible. I was also eager for the police to arrive. Whoever had attacked Jan could still be on the premises.

  I was certain she had been attacked, because how else would she have ended up with that head wound? There wasn’t anything but the walls and her toolbox to hit her head on if she’d simply fallen, and I hadn’t noticed any smears of blood to suggest that had happened.

  The siren grew even louder before cutting off abruptly. In the distance, I heard another siren approaching. I peeked around the corner. A young woman, also in a chef’s uniform, was with Jean-Luc now and they were both huddled over Jan.

  In an attempt to distract myself from my worries, I unrolled the large papers I still held in my hand. They were slightly yellowed with age and the top sheet was torn along one edge.

  “What are these?” I noticed several lines on the papers. As I unrolled them further, I realized that the lines were part of a drawing of a building’s layout.

  “They look like the blueprints for the manor,” Gemma said. “Where did you get those?”

  “I found them next to Jan.”

  “Why on earth would Jan have blueprints for the manor? And what in the world was she doing up here on the second floor? She was supposed to be working down in the laundry room.”

  I didn’t have any answers for her.

  The elevator doors parted and two paramedics rolled a stretcher out into the alcove, Brad right behind them. Gemma pointed the paramedics in the right direction and then got up to follow them.

  “Are you sure you should be on your feet?” I asked with concern.

  “I’ll be all right. I’m feeling much better now.”

  Her face had regained some color and she’d already disappeared around the corner, so I didn’t protest any further.

  Voices murmured in the distance and the second siren grew louder. I studied the blueprints for another moment before coming to a decision. I picked up a vase of artificial flowers that was sitting on one of the end tables and spread out the top sheet of paper. It curled up again, so I set the vase on one corner and fetched its twin from the other side table. I dug through my purse and grabbed my wallet and a pack of gum to hold down the other corners.

  Using my phone, I snapped a couple of pictures of the blueprint before doing the same with the three other sheets. Then I returned my makeshift paperweights to where they belonged and rolled up the papers. By that time, the sirens had ceased wailing and footsteps clattered on the stairs. I’d just tucked the roll of papers under my arm when Officers Eldon Howes and Pamela Rogers passed by the alcove, heading for Jan and the paramedics. I didn’t know all of Shady Creek’s police officers by name, but I’d had dealings with a few of them in the past.

  After the officers had gone by, I stepped out into the corridor but didn’t follow in their footsteps. The paramedics were in the midst of loading Jan onto the stretcher while Rogers spoke with Gemma. I considered heading downstairs to the lobby, until Rogers turned my way.

  “Sadie, I’d like to speak with you for a moment,” she said as she approached.

  We retreated toward the staircase as the paramedics wheeled the stretcher into the alcove and waited for the elevator. Jan’s eyes were closed and she didn’t move a muscle. I hoped she would regain consciousness soon.

  “I understand you were first on the scene,” Rogers said as we paused at the top of the stairs.

  “Second after one of the hotel guests,” I corrected. “I was in the lobby when she came down the stairs, screaming that there’d been another murder.”

  “Do you know the guest’s name?”

  “No, but she was wearing a pink suit.” I peered over the banister and pointed to the woman, who was speaking animatedly to a few other guests down in the lobby. “That’s her.”

  Rogers asked me to detail my movements from the moment I’d heard the woman scream, and she took notes as I did so. Once I’d told her everything I could remember, I showed her the blueprints.

  “These were on the floor next to Jan. I moved them to make room for the paramedics. I’m sorry if I contaminated a crime scene. I was only thinking of Jan at the time.”

  Fortunately, Rogers didn’t seem too upset. “Thank you for turning them in,” she said as she accepted the blueprints.

  “Mrs. Honeywell didn’t know how or why Jan had the blueprints,” I said. “And Jan wasn’t even supposed to be up here.”

  “Mrs. Honeywell mentioned that.”

  “What she might not know is that I ran into Jan here the other day as she was coming down a back stairway. Apparently, she was only supposed to be working in the laundry room that day too, so I don’t know what she’s been up to.”

  “I appreciate you letting me know,” Rogers said.

  I wasn’t able to read much from her expression, so I didn’t know how interesting she found the information.

  Rogers didn’t have any more questions for me. She met up with Officer Howes by the alcove and conferred quietly with him. For once I wasn’t even tempted to eavesdrop. All I wanted to do was get back to the Inkwell.

  This time, when I crossed the lobby, I made it out the door without interruption. I didn’t look back as I hurried to my car and drove away from Shady Creek Manor.

  * * *

  After parking my car by the Inkwell, I made a quick trip over to Sofie’s Treat. As I’d hoped, Joey was seated at one of the tables, his laptop open in front of him, a cup of coffee and a half-eaten apple fritter within easy reach. I waved to him as I got in line behind two other people. I didn’t feel right about showing up at the
bakery simply to talk to Joey, so I decided I’d buy some donuts for my staff.

  Once I had an assortment of half a dozen donuts in a box, I slipped into the seat across from Joey.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” I said with a smile.

  “Ha ha.” He glanced Sofie’s way, so briefly that I almost missed it.

  I lowered my voice. “Have you asked her yet?”

  “Asked who what?”

  I waited, knowing full well that he knew what I meant.

  He relented a second later. “Not yet.”

  “The masquerade is only a few days away,” I reminded him.

  “I’m aware of that.” He grabbed his coffee and took a long drink. When he set down the cup, he regarded me over his laptop. “Is that really why you’re here? To grill me about whether I’ve asked Sofie to the masquerade yet?”

  “Only partly,” I admitted.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Have you heard anything new about the murder investigation?” I asked.

  “Have you heard anything?”

  I’d expected him to throw the question back my way. He rarely gave away information for free.

  “As a matter of fact, I just came from the manor.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “While you’re sitting here working up the nerve to ask Sofie out, the news is happening without you.”

  I definitely had his attention now.

  “An arrest?” he guessed.

  “No.” I checked to make sure no one else was within earshot. “Jan Finch was found unconscious on the second floor. It looks like someone hit her from behind. She was still unconscious when the paramedics took her away.”

  Joey closed his laptop and grabbed his coffee, gulping down what was left of it.

  “Hold on,” I said before he could get up. “I shared. Now it’s your turn.”

  He could hardly sit still, clearly itching to get on his way to the manor. “Every time a key card is used, it’s logged by the hotel’s computer system.”

  “And it notes which key was used,” I said, remembering what Gina had told me.

  He nodded. “The thing is, nobody used a key to get into the room Marcie fell from. Not in the twenty-four hours before she died, anyway.”

  “But how is that possible?” I asked.

  He shrugged, getting to his feet and tucking his laptop under one arm. “Your guess is as good as mine.” He grabbed the remains of his apple fritter. “Let me know if you figure that one out.”

  Before I had a chance to say anything more, he was out the door.

  * * *

  Being back at the Inkwell brought me a sense of comfort and security after the latest unsettling incident at the manor. Unfortunately, the change of scene didn’t calm my thoughts. I managed to mix drinks and take orders for customers without making mistakes, but there was no denying that I was preoccupied. I’d put some puzzle pieces together in my head, but I wasn’t yet sure if they truly fit or if I was forcing them to form the wrong picture.

  During a lull in business, I left Mel in charge of the pub while I slipped into my cubbyhole of an office beneath the stairway that led up to my apartment. On my drive back from Shady Creek Manor, I’d recalled the earring I’d seen on the floor of the third-story guest room shortly after Marcie’s death. Now that I knew Jan had been in possession of blueprints of the manor and had been sneaking around the upper floors of the hotel, I had serious doubts about the theory that Marcie had been in the vacant guest room for a secret rendezvous.

  My latest theory was that Jan had the blueprints because she was hoping to find the legendary Vallencourt treasure. I also theorized that someone didn’t want her to find it, or at least didn’t want her searching the hotel. I figured it was more likely than not that Marcie’s killer and Jan’s attacker were one and the same. That person either wanted to be the one to find the treasure or had some other secret they didn’t want uncovered by people nosing around the manor.

  Whether Marcie had been killed because she was looking for the treasure or because she’d stumbled upon something or someone that was meant to be secret, I didn’t know. The earring I’d spotted on the floor might have been part of the Vallencourt treasure. It also could have been the killer’s earring, dropped during the scuffle with Marcie. I didn’t recall Marcie wearing earrings like the one on the floor—or any earrings, for that matter—and I hadn’t noticed any other potential treasure in the room. Of course, Marcie’s killer could have taken the rest of the treasure when he or she fled.

  Or, maybe the treasure didn’t even exist.

  There was also the question of how Marcie had accessed the third-floor guest room. Had a mystery man left it propped open the day before, knowing he planned to meet Marcie there? That seemed unlikely, but I couldn’t rule it out.

  I scrubbed my hands down my face, wishing I had a more concrete idea of what had happened on the day of Marcie’s death. A thought struck me. Maybe there was another way Marcie could have accessed the room without a key.

  Tapping at my phone, I pulled up the photos I’d taken of the blueprints, but it was hard to examine them in any detail on such a small screen. After emailing them to myself, I viewed the blueprints on my computer screen. It took a few minutes of studying the drawings for me to find what I was looking for. Off of a room designated as a study was another smaller room labeled as a “secret alcove.”

  Near the back of the manor, on the drawing of the ground floor, a narrow stairway was also marked as “secret.” I studied the blueprints for the other floors. The hidden stairway extended only from the ground floor to the second floor, not beyond. The second floor also had a secret room off what was labeled as the master bedroom. I spent several minutes studying each of the drawings, but I couldn’t locate any other secret rooms, passageways, or stairways.

  I sat back in my creaking desk chair with a sigh. I’d thought perhaps a secret passageway led to the guest room where Marcie had fallen from. That would have explained how she’d managed to get in the room without a key.

  Maybe I was barking up the wrong tree with my new theory. Marcie’s death could have had nothing to do with the legendary treasure. Somehow that idea didn’t sit quite right with me, though. As for Jan, I was fairly certain she’d been searching for the treasure, whether it actually existed or not.

  I wondered if the police knew about the story of the hidden treasure. If they didn’t, they could be without a critical piece of information.

  I decided I should give Detective Marquez a call, to tell her about the legend and my theory about why Jan had been attacked. I was in the midst of searching through my contacts for the detective’s number when Mel appeared in the doorway to my tiny office.

  “Sadie, Detective Marquez is here to see you,” she said.

  Surprised, I set down my phone. “She must be a mind reader. I was just about to call her.”

  A hint of concern showed in Mel’s blue eyes. “Is everything all right?”

  I thought I knew what had her worried. “I’m not a murder suspect,” I rushed to assure her. Second thoughts leapt out at me. “At least, I don’t think I am.” My stomach jittered with a sudden flash of nervousness. “I couldn’t be, could I?”

  “I hope not,” Mel said. “But maybe you should go talk to the detective and find out.”

  “Right.” It took another second for me to actually move. “That would be a good idea.”

  Mel stepped to the side of the doorway so I could pass her. When I entered the pub, I spotted Marquez right away. She was seated at a small table, away from the handful of customers enjoying late lunches. I hesitated by the bar, my nerves jangling.

  When Mel spoke from behind me, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  “I’ll get the cup of coffee she asked for.”

  I thanked her and then pulled myself together. There was no reason to believe Marquez would suspect me of killing Marcie or assaulting Jan. At least, I hoped that was the case. As Mel had said, it was best to find out for sure.r />
  Forcing myself to relax so I wouldn’t broadcast my anxiety to the detective, I crossed the pub.

  “Afternoon, Detective,” I said when I reached her table. “I understand you wanted to speak with me.”

  “That’s right. If you have a moment.”

  “We aren’t too busy right now, so it’s no problem.” I pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

  Marquez had her dark curly hair tied back, as she had on every other occasion I’d seen her. She regarded me with her brown eyes, and I hoped she wasn’t assessing me as a potential killer. Her gaze flicked away from mine for a brief moment as she thanked Mel, who was setting a cup of coffee on the table. Then Mel returned to the bar, leaving us alone.

  “What can I help you with?” I asked, anxious to know why she’d come to the pub.

  “I understand you were at Shady Creek Manor both on the day Marcie Kent was killed and earlier today when Jan Finch was attacked.”

  I clasped my hands on my lap, stifling the urge to fidget nervously. “I was.”

  “I have concerns about that.”

  I gulped, and hoped Marquez hadn’t noticed. There was little chance of that, I realized, considering how closely she was watching me.

  It would have been prudent to wait and see what she’d say next, but my nerves got the best of me. Much to my chagrin, I dug my nails into the palms of my hands and blurted out, “I didn’t do it!”

  Chapter 22

  I wanted to clap my hand over my mouth, but instead I forced myself to relax and fold my hands in my lap.

  The slightest hint of a smile tugged at one corner of Marquez’s mouth. At least, I thought that was what had happened. It was such a brief movement that I wasn’t sure if my eyes had played a trick on me.

  “You didn’t do what?” the detective asked, her voice even, not giving away her thoughts.

  A hint of relief trickled through me when I glanced around and saw that none of the customers were paying attention to us. Nevertheless, I lowered my voice.