‘AJ! Call me! I need to talk to you pronto!’ That was Ellie, sounding urgent. I smiled. Ellie got riled up over what to eat for dinner. I hit ‘Delete’ and moved to the next message.
‘AJ! I mean it! Call me!’ Ellie again. Hmm. I deleted that one as well, but was beginning to get that prickly feeling on the back of my neck. Ellie usually settled down after the first call; two in a row seemed a bit much, even for her.
When the third message began to play, the prickle morphed into a chill. It was Ellie again.
‘AJ! Please! I have a really awful feeling! Please call!’ Whatever she was worked up about, it was making its way through the phone lines and right up my spine.
I managed to find my cellphone, only to discover I’d forgotten to charge it overnight. I threw it down on the couch beside me, irritated I’d let the battery die. A burst of inspiration hit me – Skype! Actually, I told myself, that would be better than just a phone call anyway; I’d be able to see Ellie’s expression and figure out if she was having one of her anxiety attacks or was really on to something.
My laptop was already plugged in, thank goodness, so I booted it up and tapped my fingers impatiently on the keyboard as I waited for the screen to come to life.
I was in luck. The flashing icon at the bottom of the Skype window announced that Ellie was already online. I sent her an instant message, clicking on the ‘Open Conversation’ button as I did. She popped onto my screen, slightly off-center and fuzzy.
‘Hey, cuz! What’s with all the phone messages?’ I tried to keep my voice light. When Ellie was in one of her ‘moods’, as we called them, there was no talking her down off whatever emotional ledge she’d climbed out onto.
‘AJ, you need to come home and I mean now.’ Ellie’s faced looked pinched with worry, and my insides turned to jelly. Was it my parents? Or David? (Although I wasn’t certain that I cared just then.) I felt my stomach tighten as I waited for her to clarify.
‘What’s happened, Ellie? Is everything OK at home?’ I know I probably looked as freaked out as I felt.
Ellie gave a small laugh. ‘Everything’s fine here, AJ. It’s that place you’re at that has me worried. I did a reading this evening and I see nothing but trouble for you if you stay there.’
Let me explain that Ellie, in addition to being convinced she has psychic abilities, also thinks she can ‘read’ the future in that crazy pack of oversized cards she carries everywhere. I’ve seen her at work, laying out the cards in a particular pattern, flipping them over one by one and telling me what they meant. I had to chuckle. If that was all, I could relax.
‘I’m serious, AJ.’ The downside of Skyping was that the person you were talking with could see you as well as you could see them, and she’d seen the amusement on my face. ‘You need to get back here ASAP. I’ve got a real bad feeling about that place.’
I hesitated. Should I tell her what had already happened in just the first twenty-four hours? Probably not the best of ideas, I concluded. I smiled at her image on my screen.
‘Ellie, if anything happens here, I’ll hightail it home as fast as I can go, OK? Promise.’ I tried to throw as much reassurance behind my voice as I could, because Ellie was like a dog with a bone if she thought someone was ignoring her good advice.
She made a snorting sound of disgust. ‘AJ, you always promise to stay out of trouble. I’m beginning to think you have a built-in magnet for the stuff.’
She had a point. When we were growing up, if there was mischief to be made or found, I was usually in pole position.
‘Look, Ellie,’ I said firmly. ‘Nothing’s happened to me. I have to admit there’ve been a few bumps …’ I broke off as Ellie jumped on my words like vultures drawn to a kill.
‘I knew it!’ she said triumphantly. ‘The cards never lie.’ She leaned back in her desk chair and crossed her arms, a look of self-congratulation on her face. When Ellie felt vindicated, the whole world could tell.
That did it. Here I was, a woman grown and out on my own (finally), and my goofy, card-reading, spirit-seeing cousin wanted to sabotage me. She was just jealous that she wasn’t down here, living it up in a private suite with room service and attractive detectives to boot. I put my foot down, both literally and figuratively.
‘Eleanor Louise Saddler! I have about had it up to here with your crazy predictions!’ I had built up a fine head of steam and was determined to vent every last bit of it at the smug face on the computer.
Thankfully, Ellie neither batted an eye nor returned my ire. I really didn’t want an argument with her. Instead, she merely shrugged and turned off her end of the connection. Well. If that didn’t beat all. It just goes to prove you can never predict what someone is going to do.
Chapter Six
There was no two ways about it: the conversation with Ellie had rattled my cage more than I cared to admit. Not that I believed she could predict the future or anything like that, but it was weird she was getting bad vibes from the Miramar. I knew the problems here were definitely not your average, run-of-the-mill type, but I was beginning to get an undercurrent of something that set me on edge. Maybe she had something there.
Or maybe she was just jealous. That was always a possibility, knowing Ellie as I do.
Right now, though, I wanted to make sure that Emmy was all right. I was really worried about her, especially considering the way she had slumped in that chair, all the starch gone from her posture. Troubles did that to a person, I knew; and I also knew that, if she let them, they’d beat her down to the ground.
I turned off my laptop and placed it back on the coffee table, glancing at my watch: seven-fifty five. Emmy would probably still be in the main lobby, even if the two detectives had already gone. I had a hunch that she was one of those types who worked themselves silly whenever their world was atilt.
I hurried out of my suite and headed back through the corridors, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. This was one of the nicest joints I’d even been in, and even the floors got the five-star treatment. Too bad things were so out of kilter, though.
I was right. Emmy was at her desk, a thick stack of folders in front of her and the computer screen glowing brightly. I could tell she was concentrating on something so I tried not to startle her as I approached. Another jolt to her system might not be too wise.
‘Ah, AJ,’ Emmy said as I edged up to her desk. She rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn with manicured fingertips. ‘I am so sorry. Today has been hectic, to say the least. What can I do for you?’ She smiled up at me, and I could see that the shadowy smudges underneath her eyes were darker than they had been earlier.
‘I thought I’d get us a glass of wine, maybe something to munch on, if that’s kosher with you.’ I waited for the go-ahead, hoping she’d agree. Too much work was never good, in my opinion.
Emmy suddenly smiled, a brilliant rainbow peeping out through a haze of gloom. ‘That’s a wonderful idea, AJ. In fact, let me order it. Do you prefer red or white?’ She reached for the phone on her desk, one eyebrow lifted in question.
‘Red, please. No, white. And some sugar cookies as well, if there are any.’ I grinned. I could handle anything with a glass of wine and a cookie.
Emmy shook her head, smiling, the lines of tension between her brows smoothing out. ‘You need your own personal baker, AJ.’
As I’ve said, I have long felt that sugar – especially in the guise of soft, chewy, warm-from-the-oven cookies – can be a mood-changer. And I happened to be having a five-cookie anxiety attack at the moment, never mind my infamous sweet tooth.
While she ordered up our treats, I wandered over to the wide windows that overlooked the sweeping drive. I couldn’t see the dance floor from where I was standing, but the glow of portable floodlights could be seen, reflecting off the buildings and shrubbery. I shuddered. What were the odds of finding two dead bodies in one day? Granted, one was an accidental discovery and the other an outright misfortune, but still.
It was nerve-wracking, to s
ay the least. I remembered my determination to cheer Emmy up and forced my features into a neutral expression. It wouldn’t help to have her reading my thoughts just then.
‘It will be here in just a minute, AJ. Shall we stay in here or go outside?’
I was surprised. I didn’t think she’d want to be out where the investigation was still ongoing, and I didn’t relish the risk of getting on Detective Fischer’s hit list again. (Now Detective Baird – that was a horse of a different color altogether. I’d get on his list any day.) I opted for outside, Detective Fischer be hanged. I had wine, cookies, and a mission.
We managed to fly beneath the radar, strolling along the outside of the grounds and down toward the beach. A few hardy souls were still out there, braving the chill, splashing and running through the waves, but for the most part we were alone. Emmy was quiet, pensively sipping her wine as we walked. The moon, just coming up over the cliffs, shone golden in the sky, and a light breeze had kicked up, making me glad I’d thrown on a sweatshirt.
‘What do you think happened back there tonight?’ I motioned with my chin toward the resort and the floodlights.
‘I wish I knew.’ Emmy’s voice was quiet. ‘He was a friend, AJ. I knew Miguel for a long time. I’d even gotten the job for him when he worked here.’
That was news to me. I had no idea he’d worked at the Miramar before. Maybe I’d misunderstood.
‘You mean the gig tonight?’ I glanced at Emmy as I sipped my Pinot Grigio, waiting for her answer.
She shook her head. ‘Miguel worked here for a few months in the springtime, but … well, things happened and he left. I didn’t blame him, though,’ she added hastily. ‘Miguel was a good man, a family man. His wife will be so sad.’ She shook her head.
‘Life can be truly crappy, Emmy. I hope whoever lets her know is nice about it.’ I could picture Detective Fischer’s dry delivery of the facts, not knowing what to do with a weeping woman. Detective Baird would know exactly what to say and do, of that I was sure. How could a man with a dimple ever be unkind?
‘What kind of job did Miguel do when he was at the Miramar?’ My inability to let something go had kicked in, and I was curious why anyone would leave the resort.
Emmy slowly took another mouthful of her Chardonnay, eyes fixed on the horizon. ‘He was my assistant.’
I took that in for a moment, letting the words chase one another around my addled brain. He was me? Or rather, I was now him? What in the world might have sent Miguel off to find employment elsewhere after working at the Miramar? I wasn’t complaining, mind; I was glad to have this job. I just couldn’t imagine a dust-up with Emmy, though, especially not after seeing them talking together earlier.
A filigree mist was slowly curling in from the water and the breeze had quickly developed into a sturdier version of its former self. I shivered, pulling the sweatshirt’s hood over my head. I could never handle cold ears, and mine were definitely in the icy range.
Emmy shivered slightly, drawing a thin cardigan more firmly around her body. ‘Maybe we should turn back now, AJ. It’s getting colder and I still have so much to finish this evening.’
We strolled back toward the Miramar, past the floodlit patio with its reminder of the evening’s tragic events. I shivered, too, but not from the cold. Miguel’s death made me think I hadn’t heard everything there was to hear about his past employment and relationship with Emmy.
And Detective Baird made me shiver for altogether another reason.
I have a healthy belief that passing the buck can be both good and bad, and I have had extensive practice in both. However, my first day at the Miramar was beginning to feel like one huge experiment in the blame game. Emmy blamed herself for Miguel’s demise, Detective No-Personality Fischer had hinted at everyone being a suspect, and I was beginning to think I’d blundered into a B-rated crime movie, which, of course, was Ellie’s fault. If she hadn’t encouraged me … well, between that and David’s irritating behavior. I sincerely hoped his wife would take him back and let me off the hook.
After I’d returned to my room following our impromptu beach stroll, I considered Skyping Ellie again and decided against it. I was tired, I was a bit tipsy, and I was ready to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow would be a regular day at the Miramar, since my first day certainly wasn’t. I hoped.
Chapter Seven
I could sense light in my eyes. Something had awakened me and I lay there for a moment, slightly dazed and trying to decide if it was already morning. I thought I could hear movement, a shuffling noise, and oddly enough, the light seemed to be moving, flickering off and on.
Here goes nothing, I thought, and sat up in bed, switching on the bedside lamp in one swift movement. A loud clinking sound, like metal against glass, could be heard: someone was definitely in my suite. I slid from the covers as stealthily as I could, managing to catch one foot in the trailing sheet and tripping myself. Great.
The noises ceased. I froze, trying hard not to breathe, straining my ears to listen for something to give me a clue as to who had decided to make themselves at home in my private quarters. They must have been listening for me as well. Drawing in a deep breath, I jumped through the open bedroom door, leaping like a deranged frog at the figure that was leaning into my refrigerator.
I’m pretty sure that I squealed the louder. Ellie was a close second, the two of us jumping sky high as we ran smack-dab into each other.
‘Oh, my God! Ellie! What in the world are you doing here?’ I exclaimed, trying to regain my balance and clutch my chest at the same time. ‘And how in the world did you get in?’ So much for tight security, I grumbled to myself.
Ellie can recover quickly from surprise. She demonstrated this talent for me by leaning casually on the kitchen counter, crossing her arms and giving me her famous glare.
‘I would think you’d be happy to see me, AJ,’ she said huffily, eyes narrowing and brows drawn together. Ellie is also one of the world’s worst for getting offended over nothing.
‘I am, Ellie, I’m just – well, how in the world did you even know where my room was?’ Ellie had a knack for getting into places – she’d done this sort of thing before. It still didn’t explain how she found me so easily, though.
That came out sounding like I was hiding out, trying to avoid her, not the smartest move when trying to defuse her bad temper. Simple conversations could become a test of walking on eggshells whenever Ellie was in one of her moods. I was digging a deep verbal hole and doing it fast. I looked around the room for a distraction, still feeling a bit discombobulated, what with being awakened by Ellie sneaking in like a burglar and then almost having a heart attack in my own kitchen. And the only answer I’d got from her was an exaggerated eye roll: Ellie could be incredibly tight-lipped when she wanted to be.
‘What time is it?’ I asked, brushing unruly hair from my face and wrapping my arms tightly around my middle. It was awfully chilly in my suite.
‘It’s a little past four,’ Ellie answered, apparently deciding to forgo the huffiness for a moment.
‘Four? As in “four in the morning”?’ I exclaimed, looking at her incredulously. ‘What in heaven’s name made you drive all the way down here in the middle of the night, Ellie?’
‘Well, that’s gratitude for you,’ Ellie said, addressing the ceiling. ‘I came down here, AJ, because I know you’re in danger.’
I snorted. ‘I am not in danger, Ellie. The Miramar is perfectly safe. And you did come down here on your own accord,’ I pointed out ungraciously. ‘So you can’t be that afraid to be here.’
Ellie harrumphed, turning back to the fridge and opening it once more. Along with possessing mercurial moods, Ellie has a metabolism that allows her to eat more than any single being I know and not have any lasting damage to show for it. I, on the other hand, only have to think about chocolate and I gain weight. (Note to self: slow down on the cookies.)
I yawned. Clearly Ellie was here to stay and I was past going back to bed. I could use something t
o wake me up since, apparently, my day had already started.
‘I can call for something to eat, maybe get us some coffee, Ellie,’ I offered.
There is nothing like food for a peace offering, especially with Ellie. Over the years I’ve gotten to be quite the master of judging what kind of goodies will bring her out of a sour mood and back on friendlier terms.
‘You have room service? And this suite?’ She practically screeched the words at me, gesturing dramatically around the room, taking in the fireplace and flat screen television.
I smiled smugly. ‘Yep. And housekeeping service once a week, too.’ Ellie’s mouth gaped open. ‘Cool, isn’t it?’ I was almost preening, enjoying being one-up on her. For once.
For some reason, I was feeling the necessity to paint the Miramar in as good a light as I could. Maybe Ellie would forget about her mission to save me from terrors unknown and calm down long enough for us to enjoy our visit.
It didn’t work.
‘Maids and room service won’t save your skin when trouble comes hunting for you, AJ. And it’s coming. The cards said so.’ Ellie folded her arms defiantly and I sighed. There was no moving this woman when she had her mind made up.
‘Ellie, nothing’s going to happen. That body had nothing to do with me …’ And that was as far as I got.
‘Body? What body? Augusta Jerusha Burnette, you had better spill the beans and you’d better make it snappy!’ Ellie’s voice had elevated to such a degree that I was afraid someone would call the front desk and complain. I made a shushing motion at her and sank onto the couch. The food would have to wait.
‘Look, we had a lost child this morning, I mean yesterday morning …’ Another squeal, more flapping of hands, this time accompanied by eye rolling. Ellie was the Master of Eye Rolling, a gift she’d perfected in our teens, and this time she almost outdid herself.
I raised my hand. ‘If you insist on interrupting me, Ellie, I’m going straight back to bed. Can you be quiet long enough for me to talk?’ I stared at her with my best ‘angry mom’ imitation. It worked. Ellie nodded meekly, settling back onto the couch next to me.
Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) Page 4