As if I had anywhere to go, I thought grimly. I was beginning to rethink this whole job-at-a-resort gig, though. Somehow, it hadn’t turned out like I thought it would.
The few guests who’d remained in the lobby started drifting off to various destinations, huddling together and looking warily around as though they expected to see a mad killer running loose. I shuddered. For all I knew, there was a killer somewhere nearby. I just prayed that I stayed out of his – or her – crosshairs.
I waited where I was for a while, contemplating a call for my go-to sugar fix and some strong tea. I didn’t have the energy to get up and walk to the nearest phone, though. Everything that had happened since I’d arrived had worn me out. I felt like one of the limp dishrags drying in the kitchen.
The kitchen! I flashed back to the sight of kitchen staff huddled around Ellie in intense silence, waiting to hear what my cousin would say. I glanced over to where Ellie sat, Maria still hovering over her like a concerned mother hen guarding an injured chick. Making up my mind, I rose to my feet and headed in their direction.
Ellie’s eyes were swollen, her face streaked with tears and sand. She must’ve gotten awfully close to Emmy’s body as it lay in the surf, moving gently in the water. I groaned; my aunt was going to hold this over my head for as long as I lived.
‘Hey, Ellie,’ I said gently, reaching over to wipe some of the grit from her cheeks. ‘It’s OK, I promise.’ I had no idea if it would be OK or not but I had to say something. I glanced up at Maria who stood there with wide eyes. ‘Could you get us some hot tea, Maria? And maybe something to munch on? Get enough for the three of us.’ She nodded and left, giving Ellie a final pat on the shoulder.
With Maria off on her errand, I squatted down next to Ellie, looking up into her face. She looked absolutely done in, worse even than when we’d gotten stuck in the middle of a stream that had risen quicker than we’d expected. We’d been about eight years old, stranded on a sandbar and bellowing for our mamas. When at last our fathers found us, huddled together, shivering and crying, we’d both been on the verge of hysterics.
Ellie seemed to have left me, moving somewhere near the polar opposite of her earlier hysteria, sitting in stunned silence and not speaking. I was worried, wondering if I should call for help. It’s safe to say that I was startled when she finally spoke, her voice low and gravelly from weeping.
‘I knew something would happen and it has. I could have prevented this, AJ.’ With that, she began to weep again, large tears slipping from her eyes and sliding down her face. I reached up and held her in my arms, rocking her slightly back and forth, trying to give her comfort. I felt my own eyes begin to sting. Keeping Ellie with me no longer seemed like such a great idea.
As we sat drinking the tea that Maria brought, I turned the events of the day over and over in my head. I knew there had to be a connection between the three deaths, but what it was, for the life of me, I couldn’t see. I prayed with all my heart that this would end soon; I didn’t want to see one more body as long as I lived.
Chapter Eleven
To my great disappointment, Detective Baird never came back. I suppose he went down to the beach, looking for clues and all that other jazz that detectives do whenever a suspicious death occurs. Emmy’s death, in my book, was certainly suspicious. What I couldn’t figure out was why someone would be out to get Emmy, would be so angry that they’d feel the need to get rid of her. It certainly was strange. But the Miramar was fast becoming a magnet for strange occurrences.
I put Ellie to sleep in my bed, opting to take the couch and be near the phone in case something else happened during the night. I could hear her tossing and muttering occasionally, but she stayed asleep for the most part and awakened me around seven the following morning.
I ordered breakfast for us, not wanting to face the rest of the staff just then. It had occurred to me some time during the night that I was now ‘acting’ concierge. I’d need to double-check with the resort manager – I’d met him briefly on that very first day – and see what he wanted me to do. In the meantime, Ellie and I needed nourishment, and I needed to figure out what I would wear; I hadn’t brought too many formal work clothes with me to San Blanco, having been assured by Emmy that the Miramar leaned toward casual. I’d seen how Emmy dressed, though, and I felt the need to emulate her. Maybe that would help me keep my newly crowned concierge head above water.
Someone new brought our breakfast tray, a young girl who looked about ten. She was probably at least nineteen or so, but her slender build and shy stance gave her that childlike appearance. As quickly as she could, she handed me the tray and scooted down the corridor, heading, I guess, back to the kitchen. I briefly wondered where Maria was, then turned my attention to eating: per usual, I was starving or doing a good imitation of it.
The view from my bedroom window showed an early morning that was bright with just a touch of wispy clouds floating near the horizon, looking like flocks of seagulls floating on the waves. Regrettably, the clouds that reminded me of birds also brought back the memory of Emmy’s body as it lay on the shore, the center of an avian squabble.
I was going to have to wash that visual from my mind if I was going to function.
I drew in a deep breath, leaning my forehead against the cool glass for a moment, corralling my thoughts, organizing the day. A shower was the first step, though, so I shut the blinds and turned to get ready for whatever adventure – hopefully of the happier variety – awaited me.
Ellie was still seated on the couch, sipping hot tea and staring off into space. I hoped she wasn’t revisiting last night’s calamity; even more, I hoped that she wasn’t still blaming herself. Cards or not, she couldn’t have possibly foreseen the tragedy of Emmy’s death. On second thoughts, it might have been better if she had: we might not have had to find Emmy the way we did.
With a promise to join me in the lobby as soon as she’d showered and dressed, Ellie stood to her feet and hugged me. ‘AJ, stay safe out there. This place gives me the creeps, room service or not. I’ll come find you as soon as I can.’ She really did look worried.
I laughed, although it came out sounding a little strangled – which, come to think of it, is not such a good descriptor, considering all the deaths around here. Anyway, it was good to be fussed over, although I would’ve preferred different circumstances. I wasn’t too anxious, though; I highly doubted the Miramar Murderer (as I’d privately dubbed him) would strike in broad daylight.
Stanley West, the resort’s general manager, was waiting at Emmy’s desk. Actually, he was pacing up and down the lobby, stopping every so often to glance out of the window as though expecting something else to happen. He had the appearance of someone whose nerves were on edge, and I couldn’t say that I blamed him one iota. Mine would be, too, if I had to deal with staff, menus, activities, and a killer.
‘AJ, there you are! I was just debating whether or not to call your suite. In fact, I wasn’t even sure you’d stick around after all this.’ Stan waved his arms expansively. I guessed that he’d never had to deal with anything more than a miffed guest or a no-show employee before, so this must have been close to pure catastrophe in his book.
This entire situation was probably more of a draw than he knew. I had a hunch that, before long, folks would be clamoring for a room at the Miramar: those who liked an amateur ghost hunt, those who were drawn to the macabre, and those who just enjoyed a good scare. Emmy’s death, as unfortunate and untimely as it was, could serve as a catalyst in reinforcing the Miramar’s reputation as the place to be. That, I was fairly certain, was something she would have been proud of, as weird as it sounded.
‘Hey, Stan,’ I said, aiming for ‘casual happy’ to match my khaki pants and linen shirt. It wouldn’t do to seem rattled; I had a feeling that I would be called upon to play the part of Emmy today. ‘I got here as soon as I could. Just let me know what you need me to do.’ I smiled at him as I headed for Emmy’s desk. Flipping on the computer’s power switch
and the little desk lamp, I sat down, folding my hands and trying to project efficiency and control à la Esmeralda Ruiz.
Stan ran both hands through his hair, creating little tufts that stood up over his ears. I had to hide a smile; he looked like one of the characters from a children’s puppet show, the kind that look like big fuzzy tennis balls with mouths.
‘I think that if we can just make it through today, we’ll be OK. Detective Bread told me he’d be back later this morning for a few more interviews.’
I smiled, not bothering to camouflage my amusement this time. ‘Do you mean Detective Baird?’
Stan stopped his pacing and looked at me like I’d sprouted horns. ‘That’s what I just said. Anyway,’ he added, resuming his fidgety movements, ‘We should be fixed for the weekend. Emmy had already lined up a few things that we’ll go on with. Hopefully this will all blow over soon.’
That little phrase threw me for a loop. This will all blow over soon? He made it sound like the three deaths were inconveniences to his precious resort, which maybe they were, at least to him.
‘Speaking of interviews,’ I said, managing to sound composed, ‘when will you start looking for a new concierge?’
Stan looked at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘I really hadn’t thought that far ahead, AJ. I guess I just assumed that you’d want the job. You know. Move up a notch in the world.’ His smile was magnanimous as though he’d just offered me the crème de la crème of jobs.
Oh, sure: who wouldn’t want to work at a resort that could boast a resident killer? And you know what they say about assuming things. I’m not going to write it here, this being a family-friendly narrative. But you get the general idea. And I didn’t want to be anything other than what I’d been hired for. I’d been able to tell from Emmy’s stress levels that ‘concierge’ was just a fancy word that meant ‘it’s all on your back’.
I was saved from what might have been a regrettable retort by the appearance of my cousin. She looked more awake than she had when I’d left her earlier. In fact, she was practically emitting bursts of static electricity, and by the look on her face, she had Big News. The next order of business was to shoo Stan on his merry way and let Ellie spill the beans.
I managed to get rid of the jumpy resort manager by reassuring him that I wasn’t going anywhere and that I would be able to handle two groups of guests arriving later that morning.
‘I’d appreciate it if I had some help, though,’ I said sweetly. My voice was as thick with honey as a beehive, and I hooked my arm through Ellie’s, pulling her in close. ‘My cousin just happened to be visiting the resort. She would be happy to assist me, if you’d OK it.’ I could feel Ellie’s arm stiffen but I held firm, that syrupy smile plastered on my face.
Stan gave Ellie the briefest of glances, nodding as he began walking away. ‘Have her fill out the necessary papers, AJ, and make sure that HR gets them by the end of the day. Now, if that’s all?’
I didn’t have time to answer, even if I had wanted to. Stan was already strolling off to the next task, leaving me and an astounded Ellie to fend for ourselves. Whether we liked it or not, we’d just become a two-headed concierge for the Miramar.
‘Well.’ Ellie plopped down in to the chair I normally occupied, arms crossed and a stunned look on her face. Laser-like glare would probably be more accurate (as in ‘stun gun’); I’d managed to enlist her help at the desk before she’d known what had hit her. Chalk one up for the ol’ AJ, I thought with a grin. I hadn’t lost my touch.
I checked the bookings for the day, noting that the two large tour parties were due to arrive before ten. Glancing at my wristwatch, I saw that we would have time to call out for the morning’s cookies. I decided to have the kitchen put them into a napkin-lined basket instead of on the usual glass plate; Ellie was notoriously butter-fingered and I wasn’t taking a chance.
The stock of brochures and area maps looked good, so I suggested to Ellie that we take a quick jaunt around the Miramar, making sure all was well with our guests. Besides, it didn’t hurt to hobnob with the paying customers, as I had learned at the casino. The ones who felt noticed and loved were usually those who became repeat visitors. I didn’t have Emmy’s solicitous approach down yet, but I did know how to carry on a conversation without making a fool of myself. I figured that Ellie could tag along and feel for auras or whatever it was that she did. The sooner the Miramar Murderer was caught, the better.
Outside, the sky was a clear blue, something my pilot father would call a ‘high sky’, perfect for flying, birdwatching, and sunbathing. Standing in the sunshine and feeling the halcyon breezes blowing, it was difficult to imagine that this had been the scene of three deaths, all of which appeared suspicious. I glanced sideways at Ellie and saw she was staring off toward the beach. Not good, I thought, so I gave her a little poke in the ribcage.
‘Hey, girl. None of that this morning.’ I draped an arm across her shoulders and began walking, guiding her along the path.
Ellie remained quiet. Not a tense quiet, but ‘lost in thought’ type of quiet, contemplative. She’d give when she was ready, so I didn’t push it. Besides, I needed to get the feel of my newly appointed position. I began to concentrate on the scene around me, nodding and smiling at the guests who sat with juice and coffee, enjoying the weather and the newspaper. I could get use to this, I thought. I was just beginning to feel like visiting royalty when I heard someone calling my name, and not in a casual, friendly voice, either. In fact, whoever it was sounded downright upset.
‘Ms Burnette! Ms Burnette!’ I turned to see Fernando and Maria running toward me, she waving something at me and him trying to keep up with the much younger and much quicker girl.
Ellie and I stopped in our tracks, opting to wait for the two to catch up. I knew what some of the guests were peeking surreptitiously around newspapers and from behind sunglasses, so I fixed what I hoped was a look of competence on my face and waited to hear whatever new disaster had just occurred.
Chapter Twelve
‘Ms Burnette!’ Maria was panting a bit as she reached Ellie and me, stopping mere inches before she mowed us down. ‘Please take this.’ She thrust something into my hands then turned to Ellie. ‘Oh, Miss Ellie. There is so much trouble, just like you said to us. I have never seen so much trouble before.’ And with that, she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.
I left Ellie and Fernando to comfort Maria. I walked off a few paces, looking down at what Maria had handed to me. It was an envelope, crumpled from handling, and the name on the front was mine. Abrupt shivers marched up and down my spine like a holiday parade, sending my mind into a tailspin: I recognized the handwriting of Esmeralda Ruiz. The late Esmeralda Ruiz.
I turned around in time to see Ellie and Fernando walking back toward the Palmetto Room, Maria being led between them like a little child. I hesitated. Whatever was in the envelope, I wanted Ellie to see it as well, and I was just chicken enough not to open it until I was surrounded with the living. I made up my mind and followed them.
Ellie had commandeered a table near the back of the dining room, nearest the French doors and the sunlight. Fernando was up at the buffet table, getting coffee and a plateful of breakfast items. I watched approvingly as he spooned large amounts of sugar into one of the mugs and then carried it over to Maria. She still looked upset but took the coffee obediently, a good sign. I decided to follow Fernando’s example and get my own mug-o’-sugar with a little coffee in it for color.
I slid into the empty chair next to Ellie. A few of the nosier guests were trying to watch us out of the corner of their eyes but gave up when I purposely leaned toward Maria, all but blocking their view. What is it about folks and their need for the salacious in life? We’ve grown into a society where everything is fodder for a reality show.
We sat quietly, sipping the hot drinks and letting the warmth fill us. Stress makes me shiver, and I could see that Maria was trembling slightly as well, the mug held tightly in two hand
s so she wouldn’t drop it.
I fished the envelope from my pants pocket where I had shoved it unceremoniously. The others watched me with curiosity, Ellie because she had no idea what I was holding and the other two because they did. Holding my breath, I slipped my index finger under the flap and gently teased it open. I didn’t need a nasty paper cut in addition to everything else.
It was a short letter, addressed to me – no surprise there, since it was my name on the envelope – and written in Emmy’s careful, looping handwriting. I read it once, then again. What she said made no sense to me. Then again, I’d never had a letter from the dead before.
Ellie’s eyebrows had ridden so far up her forehead that I almost couldn’t see them. It was obvious she wanted to know what the letter said, so I handed it to her without comment, waiting for her to read it and make her own sense of it. And if she didn’t get those eyebrows down quickly, they might become permanently attached to her hairline.
‘Well.’ Ellie slowly handed the letter back over, her eyes locked on mine. I took the missive, tucking it back into its envelope as carefully as if it had been a defused bomb. I guess it was, in its own way; the words Emmy had penned were as explosive as dynamite.
I nodded. ‘I know. Crazy, isn’t it?’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and I certainly wasn’t going to let Maria and Fernando know what it said. I did have a question for them, though.
‘Where did you get this, Maria?’ I waggled the letter in her direction. It might have more made sense to me if Emmy had left it at the front desk with directions to deliver it to me, but I had a sneaking suspicion that the front desk was not where Maria had gotten it.
Maria flushed, her eyes shifting from me to the letter and back again. It was if she needed to verify that yes, indeed, I had meant that particular letter.
Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) Page 7