Visiting Memories Past

by Liz Turner

  “Snow?” Dana asked.

  He shook his head thoughtfully. “Not yet.” He remained there, fixed in silence. Then he said softly, “El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.”

  Dana said nothing. The phrase seemed to her somehow familiar though she spoke not a word of the language. She noted his perfect accent, wondering if he hailed from Latin America. His voice seemed to slip into a tone quite different from his American voice. Silkier, somehow. Every part of her wanted to ask him a thousand questions about the strange Spanish sentence he’d just uttered, but something about his demeanor cautioned her against it. It had seemed to come from a place of deep anguish. Yes, I’m certain now. He’s lost someone. A wife, most likely. How sad, the poor man, she thought. Though her empathy made her want to comfort him, she knew, from experience, that when one loses someone very important to them…. Sometimes it is best to wait until they ask for what they need. Offering condolence or comfort at the wrong moment can bring forth a tidal wave of un-planned-for emotion. Perhaps what this Wallace Black needed was a week in the woods in a comfortable resort where he could mourn in private and find solace in small talk with perfect strangers.

  So, eventually, all Dana said to break the silence was, “Well, I believe the restaurant downstairs will be serving dinner by now, and I’m getting a little hungry.” She busied herself picking up her mug and fluffing the wool blanket back on the chair. “I might just go fetch my cardigan from my room. Getting a little chilly!”

  Wallace seemed to have returned to his former demeanor. He smiled his broad, elegant smile once more. “Dinner sounds absolutely great right about now. I’ll meet you down there.” He winked. “Are you on this floor?”

  Dana nodded. “Just down the hall.”

  “Ah, see, I’ve got the luckiest suite of all.”

  “Why’s that?”

  They exited the library, and Wallace rapped his knuckles on the door just beside it. “This is me. Right next door.”

  “Well, now, that is lucky.” The placard on the door read SUITE 44.

  Chapter 2

  Suite 44

  Dana found Melissa and Noah greeting guests at the entrance to the restaurant downstairs, which bore a sign reading The Wesley Estates Steakhouse & Eatery in spiraling calligraphy. The couple’s face lit up as they saw her.

  “We’re acting like we’re here to be hospitable to all our guests, but we’re actually just waiting for our favorite one,” Melissa whispered jokingly into Dana’s ear, gripping her by the arm and leading her purposefully toward a white-clothed table in the center of the restaurant.

  Dana laughed. “Oh, hush. Don’t feel like you have to be off duty on my account. I’m perfectly content to eat alone and do some people watching from my perch.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  Noah was smiling quietly, and he flagged down a server as they took their seats. “Nigel, this is one of our most special guests, Ms. Dana Potter. I trust that she’ll be well taken care of tonight—especially as the owners of the hotel will be dining with her…” His joke, delivered in his signature even-toned deep voice, did not land with Nigel.

  The young server reddened though he maintained a professional air. “Yes, of course, Mr. Cantor. Shall we start with a selection from our wine list?” After a moment of indecision—looking from Noah to Melissa to Dana—he handed the wine list to Dana.

  “Thank you, young man,” Dana said. They ordered, and Dana quickly steered the conversation toward the young couple. “So, tell me! How did you two come to meet? I have to say, I’m a fan of Noah, Mellie. Though I don’t know much about him,” she said pointedly.

  Melissa giggled and squeezed her husband’s forearm. “Well,” she said, beaming. “We met a couple of years ago. It was after I graduated from college, and I, ahem, well I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life. But my parents insisted I get a job and move out. And, well, what else was a twenty-three-year-old going to do but strike out on her own in New York City? And, so, I got myself a job to pay the bills…fund my so-called year of adventure in the big city. I was the administrative assistant for this big advertising agency downtown.” She smiled and darted a glance at Noah. “And,” she blushed, “Noah was my boss.”

  “Ah,” Dana said. “What is it you do then, Noah?”

  “I’m a graphic designer,” he said. “I met Melissa her first day on the job, and I believe I was shamefully transparent about wanting to date her from the beginning.” He smiled sheepishly. “And eventually, she agreed.”

  “And the rest—is history,” Melissa exclaimed.

  “And you moved here for the hotel?”

  Noah nodded. “Exactly. When Melissa had the idea that she wanted to restore the place, I couldn’t say no. I found a job as a creative director at a small boutique agency here and we set up our life. Personally, I’ve loved being away from the hustle and bustle of the city.”

  “I completely understand that. That’s why people come to the Wesley isn’t it? To get away from it all, so they say?”

  Melissa nodded. “I’d say so. Especially around this time of year, people are just craving to get down to their roots. To nature. To someplace slower.”

  “Rest and nostalgia is what we give them,” Noah chimed in, a wry smile on his face. “Everyone here is seeking something or another, and they think they won’t be able to find it out there in their normal life. No, it has to be found in a building that’s as old as our country nearly.”

  Dana sensed he was joking, but she also knew there was a lot of truth in his words. People were indeed willing to pay a great deal to spend a week in luxury, detached from the world. Nowadays, the very ability to detach at all—to leave one’s work, one’s worries at home and truly take a mental vacation—was the grandest luxury of all. Doubt the new spa can even compare to that feeling! Dana mused.

  Toward the end of dinner, Dana found herself quite sleepy, the wine having dulled her senses just enough to make her crave sleep in that four big poster bed upstairs. The restaurant was quiet, only a few tables still full, and Dana could feel the pull of sleep settling over the whole hotel.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Melissa suddenly.

  “What is it?” Dana asked.

  The young woman looked up from her cellphone and put it quickly face down on the table. “Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry, I make a point never to use my phone during meals. It’s just I’ve been keeping an eye on the weather, and well, I guess I couldn’t help myself to check one last time before heading to bed.” Melisa bit her lip and looked seriously at the salt shaker on the table. “They’re saying that a storm is coming tonight.”

  “Oh?” Noah asked. “I’m sure it won’t be anything. The day was so clear today!” he said reassuringly.

  Melissa shook her head. “I don’t know. They’re saying it could be a bad one.”

  Dana patted her hand. “Don’t you worry. I’ve been at the Wesley through many a bad snowstorm and not once has this old, sturdy building been anything but a welcome hideaway. None of the guests will mind in the slightest. They certainly won’t blame you for the weather.”

  Melissa nodded, but she looked unconvinced. And shortly after, Dana bid them goodnight. She opted to take the old elevator—perfectly restored, but still in its tiny, antique size—instead of the stairs. She was oh-so-tired. She looked out the large windows of her room and noted that perhaps Melissa was right about that storm. All she could see through the dense darkness out there were flurries of bright white snowflakes being thrashed about in a terrible wind. Dana hurriedly drew the curtains and fell promptly asleep.

  ***

  The next morning, Dana woke to find her clock reading seven a.m. She stepped gingerly out of bed and immediately reached for her plush robe to put over her flannel pajama set. The place was freezing. She needed a cup of coffee right away. She slipped on a pair of house shoes and opened the door, intending to go downstairs to the café. To her surprise, a housekeeper and a burly looking young man stood there
in the doorway, the housekeeper’s hand poised to knock.

  “Oh, hello,” Dana said. “Did you—Do I—I’m sorry, it’s early. Need a cup of the good stuff; very cold this morning don’t you think?”

  The housekeeper was a petite woman, and Dana noticed she wore her winter coat over her uniform. “Yes, we’re so sorry, Ms. Potter. The electricity went out last night. We are working to get the generator up and running, and it should be no time at all. In the meantime…,” she gestured to the man beside her. For the first time, Dana realized he was pushing an industrial cart full of firewood.

  “We’re going to get your room all nice and toasty, the old-fashioned way!” he said. “Going to start you a big fire.”

  “Oh, you sweethearts, well, thank you, thank you very much….” Dana blinked, regretting having blustered out into the hallway as she had, without taking a moment to wake up and get her bearings. “You say the electricity’s out? Was the storm very bad last night then?”

  The woman blinked at her with wide eyes. “Have you not looked outside? It was extraordinary, the force this storm had. Came on so fast, so fast! Last I checked, they were saying we got almost a foot of snow in only eight hours!” The housekeeper scuttled quickly over to Dana’s windows and pulled open the curtains. “And they say it’s not finished yet!”

  Dana stood dumbfounded as she took in what she was seeing. The entire lawn was blanketed in pure white, and the trees barely visible in the distance looked as though they might snap any moment, so laden with the snow they were. Moreover, the wind still rushed thousands upon thousands of fat snowflakes through the air, pushing them against the window and then out again into the open. It made the very air look gray and angry.

  “Oh, my…” was all Dana could say. She had meant what she said last night, that she had spent many winters here during storms, but she doubted that they had ever changed the landscape as quickly as this one had. And by the housekeeper’s stricken look, Dana realized that this storm was, indeed, one to be reckoned with.

  She hurried out of the room with the idea to find Melissa and make sure the poor thing wasn’t worrying her head off. She spotted Melissa and Noah almost as soon as she stepped outside her room. They were standing at the opposite end of her hallway outside a closed door. As Dana got closer, she saw they looked extremely distraught. Melissa’s face was white, and she had her hand pressed hard over her mouth. Noah was stroking her back evenly, but even he was staring straight ahead, a deeply concerned expression on his face. This storm must be even worse than I believed! Dana thought.

  As she approached, the couple gave her a little grin, though their stricken expressions remained plastered over their faces.

  “Hi, Ms. Potter, sleep alright?” Noah offered.

  “What’s going on? Has the storm caused a lot of damage?” Dana asked, breezing by his question. She saw the couple exchange a pained look.

  Noah sighed. “Nothing we can’t handle. We’ve got a roaring fire going downstairs in the lobby and a large hot breakfast for everyone. Why don’t you go enjoy it? It’s too cold up here to linger if you don’t have to.”

  Dana shrewdly detected the meaning behind his words. “Why do you ‘have to’ be up here?” she asked. She peered behind them at the closed library door. And without waiting for an answer, she opened it cautiously. The room was bone-chillingly cold, but it didn’t look as though it had suffered any damage. She came out and looked at Melissa, confused.

  At that, Melissa began to cry, burying her head in Noah’s shoulder. “I’m just—I’m just, scared. I don’t know how this could have happened, and I don’t know what it means for us! I was so careful, so careful… and it’ll all be ruined now. All my hard work…”

  With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Dana understood that it was not the library the two were supposedly guarding, but the room directly beside it. Suite 44.

  “Wallace? Has something happened?” she asked, nodding toward the room.

  Melissa looked up and stared at her, wiping her face. “Oh gosh, here I am going on and on about the consequences for business, and I didn’t even realize you knew him!” She gazed at Dana with a look of extraordinary pity. “Wallace Black has—died.”

  Dana drew in her breath. “How?”

  Melissa shook her head. “I, we, um, we don’t know.”

  “I had a long chat with him yesterday, and he seemed in perfect health. I even remember having a thought to myself that he looked the very picture of health for his age,” Dana said sadly. “Could it have been a sudden heart attack? That happens, you know. People our age can never be sure our hearts are in good working order, no matter what the doctor says.”

  Melissa bit her lip. “I don’t know if it could be something like that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Wiping her eyes, Melissa opened the door to Suite 44. Dana stared inside with disbelief. The room, identical to Dana’s, had been destroyed.

  It almost looked as though a wild party had been thrown inside. The bedside lamps were smashed into pieces on the floor, pictures were either broken on the floor or hanging dramatically crooked on the wall, a pillow had been torn up, its stuffing strewn around the room, potted plants were turned over, and the curtains appeared to have been ripped in several places.

  “See?” Melissa said anxiously. “Someone clearly robbed him and then—then—I don’t know, killed him somehow!”

  Dana said nothing. Her eyes traveled to Wallace Black. His body lay on the floor where he had evidently collapsed. He wore a robe and a set of cotton pajamas. Dana went inside carefully.

  “Oh, Ms. Potter,” Noah hissed. “The police said not to touch anything…”

  “I won’t,” she replied. She studied the dead man’s face. His mouth was open in a slight grimace, his blue eyes open. She felt a pang of sadness, remembering his sudden melancholy the night before. Nonetheless, she turned away sharply and continued to study the scene. Something about it didn’t seem quite right for a robbery, though that was, of course, the obvious answer. Her eyes landed on a black leather wallet on the wardrobe. So, they didn’t rob him, then, she thought. Unless it wasn’t his money, they were after. Perhaps something else? She looked around. Still, something seemed off amongst the chaos, and she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was. The feeling bothered her. Perplexed, she turned to leave. As she hurried out of the room, she almost tripped, but caught herself on a bed post. She was surprised to find the offending object was a plastic broom, which had been lying on the floor some feet away from Wallace.

  “You’ve called the police, that’s good,” Dana said as she exited.

  “Yes,” Melissa said, wringing her hands. “But they can’t get through in the snow, so they said just to leave everything as it is, and they’ll try to be here as soon as they can.” Dana heard the edge of desperation in her voice.

  “It’s alright, Mel. No one will even notice a single guest doesn’t come down for breakfast,” Noah said gently.

  “But we have to go on pretending there’s not a dead body in our hotel?” Melissa shook her head erratically. “First the storm strands us here, and now this.”

  Dana’s ears perked up. “You mean there’s no chance of anybody leaving today or last night? Everyone has been stranded for the past nine hours or so?”

  “Are you kidding? Have you looked outside? You’d need a full snowsuit just to get to the garage for your car. And then, well, unless you have a snowmobile you’d be absolutely out of luck,” Noah replied.

  “Well, see, there’s some good news after all!” Dana exclaimed.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Whoever did this to Wallace is still here, must be. Either that, or they’re dead outside somewhere in the snow.”

  Melissa turned her wide eyes on Dana. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that at all. The murderer is here with us. That is good news, my gosh,” she said sarcastically. “Now maybe he’ll murder someone else!” She moaned softly and buried her head into N
oah’s shoulder once more.

  Chapter 3

  A Wrathful Chaos

  Dana sat alone at a table in the hotel’s café, sipping a cup of coffee and pushing her fork around a plate of fresh fruit. While Melissa and Noah had plenty to do to preoccupy themselves while they waited for the police, Dana was left to ruminate on the sad events of last night.

  Wallace Black had not been robbed, there was that for sure. Had he then… been murdered? Dana wondered grimly. Maybe a robbery gone wrong? She frowned, at a loss. In her long life, she’d come across enough crime to know that most of it was sadly typical. Someone killed for money, another out of jealousy, another in a passionate fight to the death.

  But this one didn’t seem to be as clear cut as all that. The whole scenario seemed to her like it had been penned in a storybook: the handsome, pensive man just out of his prime and alone in a remote town for the holidays found dead in a rather dramatic scene.

  Yes, it was that scene that bothered Dana. No visible wounds on the body to suggest that there had been a violent struggle—and as Melissa had said, nobody had heard a thing. The hotel had been deadly quiet through the night. But the state of the room suggested otherwise. Could someone have killed him and staged the room to throw the police off track? Dana mused that if the murderer had done that, he was, well, not the brightest. He hadn’t even bothered to take the valuables from the room after staging a robbery. Maybe there had been a robbery, but the object stolen was something specific, something worth more than a man’s bank cards, something worth more than a man’s life.

  Dana shook her head. Even then… the crooked paintings on the walls, the slashed curtains… none of that made sense if someone was simply rummaging through the room in search of something. No, the scene suggested to her a wrathful chaos, a raving anger that passed through the room in the night and struck Wallace Black dead with its sheer force.

  Dana’s teacup rattled against the table as the old mansion shook in the howling blizzard wind. Out of habit, Dana looked out the big front windows into the mad, swirling snow. Silent, but senselessly violent….