The Inn at Holiday Bay: Haunting in the Hallway

by Kathi Daley

  She nodded. “It’s the only thing anyone is talking about today. There are some people who are shocked by what happened, but not me. The way he had been treating loyal customers of this bank just wasn’t right. I’m not at all surprised to hear that something like this happened to him. Not surprised at all.”

  “You said that there were people who thought he was simply off having a fling. Why would anyone think that?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “There have been signs.’

  “Such as?”

  “Being the senior teller, I stay late sometimes to help balance the vault, and there were occasions when Mr. Hamilton stayed late as well. On one of those nights, I noticed a woman in his office. A woman who was not his fiancée.” Martha lowered her voice even more. I had to lean over the counter to hear what she had to say. “Those of us who work here have been speculating about the status of Mr. Hamilton’s relationship with his fiancée for quite some time. Some of the other bank employees even had a pool going about whether or not the couple would make it to the altar. Personally, my money was on a very public and very messy breakup.” Martha began counting out the cash I’d withdrawn. I glanced behind me to find the line gone. I guessed once a second window had been opened, everyone in line was dealt with in a timely manner.

  I turned my attention back to Martha. “Do you think it might be possible the meeting you witnessed was with a client?”

  Martha shrugged. “Sure. If the client was of the kissing sort.”

  I had to admit that relationship issues as a motive for Wesley’s death had occurred to me, but until this point, I hadn’t had anything to base the idea on. “Had you seen Mr. Hamilton with that woman before?”

  “I’d seen her in the bank a few times, but I only noticed them in an intimate embrace the once. I don’t think she lives here in Holiday Bay, although Nick seemed to think she grew up around here and knew Mr. Hamilton for quite some time. And that may be true. Nick is older than I am, but his mind is still as sharp as ever, whereas my memory is less reliable. I hate to admit it, but it seems I’ve forgotten a lot of folks who lived here but have moved elsewhere.”

  I knew Nick was a loan officer who’d been at the bank for almost as long as Martha, who’d been working for the institution for more than forty years. Velma had mentioned that Martha was one of the bank’s first employees. She’d started working for Wesley’s father, Jasper Hamilton, right out of high school and remained the bank’s most loyal employee to date. The fact that her memory was beginning to deteriorate didn’t bode well for the continuation of the job she loved so much.

  “And the night you saw this woman in Mr. Hamilton’s office? Do you remember when that was?”

  “I guess that was a week or so before he turned up missing.”

  I glanced around the bank. It was just Martha and me in the lobby. “You mentioned the employees had a pool about what might be behind Mr. Hamilton’s disappearance. What were some of the other theories?”

  “While there were a few who thought he was off having a fling, most figured he was dead and that he’d been killed because of his business practices. I guess you’ve heard that there were a whole lot of folks who were pretty darn upset about the way the bank was being run since Mr. Hamilton Senior passed on and his money-hungry son took over. There are a lot of people—good folks, folks who Mr. Hamilton Senior considered family—who his son has tossed out of their homes for no good reason. Between you and me, while I’m sorry the man is dead, I’m not sorry that his reign of tyranny has been put to an end.”

  It seemed that Martha had some strong feelings indeed, but she did have an unusually long connection to the bank. Not only had she worked there for her entire adult life, but from what she’d already told me, she put in late hours as well. She’d never married or had children. If I had to guess, she probably considered the people she worked with at the bank to be her family.

  “I have heard rumors about evictions,” I said. “Does anyone stand out as being particularly angry?”

  “Alton West,” she answered without appearing to have taken the time to consider her answer. “Not that he wasn’t justified in his anger. Everyone was upset about him. Poor Mr. West got behind on his house payment while his wife was in the hospital fighting for her life after being diagnosed with a heart condition. That man had been banking with us for decades and had never missed a payment before. You would think Mr. Hamilton would have cut him some slack. His daddy would have. But instead of showing compassion, young Mr. Hamilton evicted the man the same week he buried his wife. I almost quit after that. In fact, there were a lot of us who almost quit.”

  “Do you think that Mr. West could have killed Mr. Hamilton in retaliation?”

  Martha slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Although the poor man was grieving, and it is hard to say what someone will do when they lose the thing that means the most to them. He was a total wreck after his wife died and he lost his home. He started drinking, and I know he came in to confront Mr. Hamilton on the day he went missing.”

  “Confront him how?”

  “He came into the bank in the late afternoon. I guess it was around four. As I said before, he’d been drinking, and it seemed he wasn’t thinking clearly. He demanded to see the boss, and when I told him that Mr. Hamilton wasn’t available, he pushed his way past me and stomped into his office. I’m sure he had a lot on his mind that needed to be said, and he said his piece and left. I never suspected that anything more would come of it, but now that it has been confirmed that Mr. Hamilton is dead and not just off on a fling, maybe…”

  “Did Mr. Hamilton stay late on the day he disappeared?”

  “He was still here when I left at five thirty. I’m pretty sure he was the last one here. I seem to remember hearing that someone driving by saw him walking toward his car just after sunset. Apparently, he never made it. Seems odd that he could just disappear that way with no one seeing anything.”

  “Yes, it is odd, but the parking lot is somewhat isolated, and if all the other bank employees had already gone, I can see where someone who might have been lurking in the back alley could have kidnapped Mr. Hamilton before he made it to his car.” I glanced at the clock. “I need to go. I never did get around to asking you about these old checks. Can I still cash them?”

  Martha took them from me and looked them over. “They are good for a year from the date they were issued. Do you want me to deposit them into your checking or savings account?”

  “Checking would be great.”

  “If you want to set up direct deposit for checks from this company in the future, I have a form you can fill out and bring it back later.”

  I took the paper she offered me. “Thanks, Martha. You’ve been very helpful.”

  As I left the bank, I stopped to consider the possible reasons that could turn out to be the motive for Wesley Hamilton’s death. The fact that he was taken from behind the bank made it seem to me that the killer would most likely be found among the dozens of men and women whose business he’d shut down or whose homes he’d foreclosed on. I supposed that Colt must have had a similar thought and was most likely all over the idea of a disgruntled customer, but perhaps I’d speak to him about Alton West specifically when we met for dinner.

  And then there was Kendall Jared. I knew that she’d been engaged to Wesley Hamilton for a long time. At least a year. It had never occurred to me that there might be trouble in paradise, though. Could Kendall have known about Wesley’s infidelity, assuming that Martha’s assertion was correct and Wesley really had been fooling around? Of course, even if she did know and planned to act on her knowledge, she wouldn’t need to grab him from his place of employment; the couple lived together. If she wanted to kill her soon-to-be husband, all she needed to do was wait until he was home and off him there. Although they did live in the same house as Wesley’s mother, and big as it was, perhaps an abduction from the bank would have seemed to be the best way to go.

  Chapter 4

>   I was expecting to be nervous about the book signing, and I had been as I’d driven toward it, but once I arrived at the charming little bookstore, which had been built into the space previously occupied by a real firehouse, I found myself beginning to relax. Vanessa greeted me with a hug before directing me to the table where I could set up. I’d even been given an assistant, a very nice, grandmotherly type woman who would manage the line, should one form, and take care of purchases and the distribution of flyers for upcoming events. I’d been out of the game for a while now, and I wasn’t sure that readers even remembered who I was, so to say I was astonished when a line began to form before the advertised starting time even arrived would be putting it mildly. I wasn’t sure how many books Vanessa had ordered, but unless she’d had a lot more faith in my ability to draw a crowd than I did, I had a feeling we’d run out. Of course, there could be people who’d brought books they’d already purchased to be signed, so perhaps it would be all right.

  “I’m so happy that you are back,” a woman in a red sweater said. “I’ve missed having new Abagail Sullivan books to look forward to and have been counting down the days until your new novel comes out next month. Will you be doing a book tour for The Death of Unmet Dreams?”

  “I will be doing a very limited tour.” I handed the woman a flyer. “Here is a schedule of where I will be and when.”

  The woman took the flyer. “I see that you will be here again. That’s wonderful because I live in the area.”

  I handed her the book I’d just signed.

  “I was sorry to hear about your family. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to lose both your husband and your son.”

  There it was. The offer of sympathy I’d been expecting and preparing for. I offered a half smile and responded, “Thank you. I look forward to seeing you at the signing next month.”

  I turned my attention to the next person in line, but I couldn’t help but see that the woman offered me a sympathetic glance before she moved on. One down and a whole lot more sympathetic glances to go.

  The next woman stepped up, and the same basic conversation repeated itself. I lost track of how many offers of sympathy I’d been forced to shield my heart from, but after a while, it did get easier. The pain from offering a weak smile and a heartfelt thank-you lessened just a bit with each repetition. By the time the line, which at one point had wound along the counter and out the door, had lessened to a few last-minute drop-ins, I was feeling happy and hopeful.

  Vanessa locked the door at six. There were still a few customers waiting to pay for books, but the signing was officially over, so I began to clean up my table. I’d brought bookmarks, pens, and book bags to hand out, the leftovers of which would need to be hauled back to my car for the next signing.

  “Abagail?” A woman I didn’t recognize walked up to the table.

  “Did you want a book signed?” I asked.

  “No. I mean yes, of course.” She handed me a book she had brought with her. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we’ve met.”

  I narrowed my gaze as I tried to remember her. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time placing you. Do you live here in Holiday Bay?”

  “No, San Francisco. I’m here on vacation and heard about this signing, so I stopped by to say hi. My name is Sarah Walker. I met your husband when he came by to ask me about the death of my brother, Steven.”

  “Ben was friends with your brother?”

  “No. Not friends. He visited me in an official capacity. You see, Steven was a cop who died in the line of duty fourteen years ago. For some reason, just before his own death, he was following up on the incident and came to my home to interview me. He saw one of your books on my coffee table and mentioned that Abagail Sullivan was his wife. I will admit to being just a bit star-struck, which I think he realized. A few months later, I ran into you and Ben as you were leaving Donovan’s Steak House and he introduced us.”

  My eyes grew wider. “I do remember that. You were going to meet a friend, and we had just finished eating and were on our way out. I remember Ben saying that he’d interviewed you regarding the death of your brother, but I didn’t realize he had been a cop, or that he’d died in the line of duty. I don’t think Ben said as much.”

  “He didn’t. He just said that he’d interviewed me and that I was a huge fan of yours. We shook hands and chatted for a few minutes, and that was that, but that quick conversation meant a lot to me. I just wanted you to know that I was sorry to hear about your husband. I’m sure you miss him very much, and I understand why you felt you needed to take some time off, but I am happy to see that you are back to writing books.”

  The other customers had left, and Vanessa was ready to lock up. I knew I should thank the woman and wrap things up, but I found myself asking her how her brother had died.

  “His throat was slit, and he was left in an alley to die. The case was never solved, and I’m not sure why Detective Sullivan was looking into it after so many years, but he said something about new evidence and wanting to verify some of the facts. He seemed confident that he might be able to track down Steven’s killer, and I felt a sense of hope for the first time in years. But now… Now I guess I’ll never know what it was that he thought he’d figured out.”

  “I remember the case. Steven was Frank Ribaldie’s partner, back when Frank was a street cop before he worked narcotics.”

  “That’s right. Do you know Frank?”

  “Not really. He eventually transferred to homicide and worked with Ben before he was killed, so Ben talked about him from time to time. I do remember Ben mentioning that one of Frank’s old partners had been killed while on duty, but I’m not sure he ever mentioned the specifics.” Actually, that wasn’t technically true. Ben had never told me that one of Frank’s partners had been murdered, but I wanted to keep the woman talking, so I pretended he had.

  “Steven was killed in broad daylight, but no one admitted to having seen or heard anything. I mean, how could that happen? Someone had to have seen something, but I suppose anyone who did was afraid to tell what they knew. There was an investigation at the time of Steven’s death, of course, but it never went anywhere. I imagine your husband must have come across the case somehow and thought there could have been more effort put into finding the killer, so he decided to take a second look.”

  I remembered that not only was the cop who died on duty and should have been patrolling his area but that his body was found clear across the city in an alley where he had no business being. I glanced at the store around me. “Vanessa is ready to close up, and I have a dinner date. Will you still be in town tomorrow? I’d love to talk with you some more. Maybe we can meet for lunch.”

  “I’d like that.”

  I gave Sarah directions to Velma’s Café, and then she was on her way. By the time I’d loaded my car, I was fifteen minutes late for dinner with Colt, so I sent him a text to let him know I had just started out. I wasn’t sure what to make of this meeting with Sarah. On the one hand, Colt had all but convinced me that it would be best to drop our research into the cold case files Ben had had in his possession when he died, but on the other, seemingly running into the sister of the victim of one of them felt more like predestination. Of course, we hadn’t exactly run in to each other, had we? She had intentionally come to the bookstore to speak to me when she’d learned I’d be there. And while I’d never found any notes indicating that Ben had concluded his research into the death of Sarah’s brother, it was possible he’d snooped around a bit, found nothing, and moved on.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” I said to Colt as I slipped into a chair across the table from where he was already sitting.

  “No problem. You look nice this evening.”

  “I do own clothes other than jeans and tennis shoes. I rarely wear them anymore, but I do own them.”

  “You are beautiful, no matter what you are wearing.”

  I actually blushed at that.

  “How was the signing?” he
continued.

  “A lot more crowded than I’d anticipated. Vanessa had ordered more books than I would have suggested, but even with that generous amount, we sold out, and I had to begin signing bookmarks.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  I placed my napkin on my lap. “It felt good to be back in the saddle, so to speak. I didn’t think I’d missed the public appearances that come with being an author, but I wound up having a really good time. I think going through this trial run will help me not to be quite as nervous as I’ve been about my upcoming book tour.”

  “And when is that?”

  “I’ll be gone for a week in November. I let my publicist know I wasn’t up for an extended tour, and she agreed that a few stops on the East Coast would be fine.”

  We paused our conversation when the waiter came by to take my drink order.

  “Something interesting happened after the signing was over,” I said once my wine had been delivered.

  “Oh? And what was that?”

  I filled Colt in on my conversation with Sarah Walker. I could see that he was less-than-thrilled that my curiosity regarding Frank Ribaldie and what he might have been—or possibly might still be up to had been reignited.

  “Just because Ben found the case interesting and did a little research on his own, doesn’t mean he found anything,” Colt pointed out.

  “I had that same thought myself. For all I know, Ben found enough to satisfy whatever spark of curiosity caused him to investigate in the first place. It just seems to me that Frank’s name keeps coming up. I feel like the universe is putting all these little nudges in my path for a reason.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Nothing really. I’m having lunch with Sarah tomorrow. I’ll probably just talk to her to see what she has to say. Once I do that, I guess I can look at the entire situation and decide if any sort of action on my part is warranted.”

  “Please promise you’ll speak to me before you do anything. I’m not saying that there will be a problem even if you do decide to snoop around a bit, but I think we both know that looking into the files Ben was holding when he died could very well be opening a can of worms. If, after speaking to this woman, we decide that taking a closer look at the death of her brother is warranted, it is probably best if I take the lead. If this cop was set up to die, and then his murder was covered up, we are talking about messing with someone who has the power to make your life and the life of anyone close to you pretty miserable.”