Crypt Suzette

by Maya Corrigan

  Val and Bethany went to the end of the line. A fortyish man in a suit stood near the reception desk and apologized to those in line. “We’re short-handed at the desk today. If you’re not checking in or out, you don’t need to wait. I’m the assistant manager, and I’d be happy to answer any questions and help you with any issues.”

  A woman approached him and asked how to use the hotel Wi-Fi. He gave her simple instructions and repeated them. If she had any trouble connecting, she should bring her device to the lobby. He’d personally assist her.

  When the woman left, Bethany signaled to him. “We’d like to talk to someone about holding a wedding reception here.”

  “Certainly. I’ll be glad to—” He broke off, looking taken aback. “Val?”

  Val hesitated. “Uh, hi.” For the second time today, she couldn’t place a man who called her by name. Had the facial recognition wires in her brain suddenly snapped? So embarrassing. She studied his features, all of them angular except for a rounded chin. He had a beak nose, inverted-V eyebrows, and raven hair with a widow’s peak. The hairline was the dead giveaway. He was the first vampire she’d met last night. His name popped into her head. “How are you, Nick? I didn’t know you worked here.”

  “I didn’t know you’d come here to set up a wedding. Good seeing you again.” He locked eyes with her. “Are you the bride?”

  “No. We’re helping a friend.” A friend who could no longer help herself. “She couldn’t make it here today.” Val gave herself a mental pat on the back. She hadn’t lied, strictly speaking.

  “You should come back with the bride and talk to our events manager. She’s the wedding expert, but this is her day off. If you call ahead for an appointment with her, you’ll get her undivided attention.”

  Bethany frowned. “You mean there’s absolutely no one here today who can help us?”

  “Now that we’re here, Nick,” Val said, “we’d like to look at the banquet facilities and the bridal suite.”

  “We have a new office assistant who can help you with that. I’d show you around except it’s crazy in reception today. One of our desk clerks couldn’t make it to work today, and her backup is sick.” He turned to Bethany. “Sorry. I should have introduced myself sooner. I’m Nick Hyde.”

  “Hi. I’m Bethany.”

  “What is the bride’s name?”

  Bethany pretended she hadn’t heard the question and dug out her phone, leaving it to Val to give the bride a name.

  An image of Isis on the bookshop’s windowsill popped into Val’s mind. “The bride’s name is Kitty Black.”

  “Kitty Black. Easy name to remember. I’ll get my assistant, Ursula, to show you around. I won’t even try to pronounce her last name. It’s a tongue twister.”

  Val learned he was right about that when the tall, blond Ursula introduced herself.

  She looked to be in her twenties and spoke formal English with an Eastern European accent. “I will give you information about the Harbor Inn. We have seventy-four guest rooms or suites. We also have a marina with fifty slips. Guests who arrive by water can reserve a spot for their boats here.”

  She showed them the restaurant and banquet room. Both had floor-to-ceiling windows facing the marina and sliding doors that opened to decks for outdoor eating and lounging. Even with a brisk breeze and temperatures barely sixty today, a dozen people sunned themselves on the decks. Bethany took photos of the banquet room.

  “Would you please show us the bridal suite,” Val said.

  “The inn has VIP suites. These are the bridal suites when we have weddings here. I will show you one that is not occupied today.” Ursula took them back through the lobby to the elevators. They went up to the top floor.

  On the way to the suite, they passed a service cart parked outside a room with an open door. Val glanced inside, but couldn’t see anyone.

  When they went into the living area of the two-room suite, Ursula flicked a switch that made the logs glow in the fake fireplace. She then slid aside frosted glass doors to reveal a two-person whirlpool tub. “When you are in the bathtub, you enjoy the fireplace and also the view of the harbor. Very romantic.” She crossed the room to the balcony doors and pulled the drapes aside. “The balcony is completely private. You can go there from the living room or the bedroom.”

  Bethany snapped pictures of the tub, the fireplace, and the view. When Ursula led her into the bedroom, Val slipped out of the suite and went down the corridor toward the service cart.

  She poked her head into the room with the open door. The woman making the bed looked to be in her forties, shorter than Val, and sturdy. She had no trouble lifting the end of an eighteen-inch-deep mattress. She wore black pants and a gray tunic like the one Suzette had used for her Moaning Myrtle costume.

  Val went into the room. “Excuse me.”

  The maid looked up from tucking in the sheet. “Hello. This your room?”

  The maid’s tag identified her as Juana. The name and her accent suggested she was Hispanic.

  Val hadn’t spoken Spanish lately, but she’d learned it well enough years ago to carry on a simple conversation. “No, it’s not my room. I would like to ask you a question.” She hoped she’d understand the answer. “I am a friend of Suzette. Do you know her?”

  The maid studied the carpet. “No, señora.”

  “She works in reception from eight to four most days. I think she has a friend here who cleans the rooms.”

  The woman shrugged. “No sé nada.” She went back to making the bed.

  I know nothing, she’d said in Spanish. She’d avoided eye contact, but that didn’t mean she was lying. She might be shy, or maybe the maids had instructions not to chat with guests.

  Val left the room and hurried past the elevators to the inn’s other wing. She saw a young, slim woman in a gray tunic, taking towels from a service cart in the hall.

  When Val asked her about Suzette, the maid didn’t respond at first, but after a moment, she said, “You wait here.”

  She took the towels into the room she was servicing.

  From the hall Val could hear the maid’s muffled voice. She’d apparently called someone.

  She came to the door of the room, but not into the hall. “Meet Maria. Three o’clock. On the street outside the parking lot.” She turned away. “Go now.”

  Val retraced her steps to the VIP suite, noticing the surveillance cameras in the hallway.

  Bethany looked up from her phone as Val went back to the suite. “I was about to call you. We were beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

  “Where did you go?” Ursula said.

  Val had an answer ready, a half-truth. “I wanted to see where people stay who aren’t lucky enough to be in a suite. I peeked at a couple of rooms that were being cleaned.”

  Ursula frowned. “I will be happy to show you rooms already clean.”

  “That’s not necessary. I think we’ve seen enough.”

  Bethany nodded. “You’ve been very helpful, Ursula.”

  They thanked her for showing them around and made a quick escape from the inn.

  Once they were in the parking lot, Bethany said, “That was more fun than I expected. Did you come across anything suspicious when you poked around on your own?”

  “No. I’m glad we got out of there without having to talk to Nick again about the wedding.”

  “You didn’t tell me about Nick. When did you meet him?”

  “Last night. He was dressed as Dracula, which is why I didn’t recognize him at first. He came into the CAT Corner for a snack, hung around longer than anyone else, and asked me a bunch of personal questions.”

  “He’s interested in you.” Bethany aimed her fob at her Hyundai. “And he’s not bad looking.”

  “He’s okay.” But Val had more important things on her mind than Nick. “A maid I talked to called a friend of Suzette’s. I’m supposed to meet the woman here in fifteen minutes.”

  “If you don’t need me, I’ll take off now
. I’ve got to go to the supermarket, buy food for the week, and cook it. I’m going on a soup diet. Since I don’t have time to make soup on weekdays, I have to do it today.”

  “The cabbage soup diet again?” It hadn’t lasted long the first time Bethany tried it, but none of her fad diets did.

  “No, that was awful. I still can’t smell cabbage cooking without my stomach turning. On my new diet, I have a cup of broth with vegetables before lunch and dinner. The idea is that you eat less if you start with soup.”

  At least the diet didn’t involve periods of unhealthy fasting as some of Bethany’s diets had. “That theory makes sense.” But giving up billowy clothes in bright, clashing colors would make Bethany look instantly slimmer. “Thanks for helping out.”

  “See you Thursday at the haunted house.” Bethany climbed into her car and drove away.

  Rather than loiter near the parking lot, Val walked around the block, taking deep breaths of the crisp air and enjoying the fall foliage. When she returned, a dark-haired woman about the same height and age as Suzette stood outside the inn’s parking lot entrance, peering around. She wore jeans, a gray sweat jacket, and a red bandanna holding back her long hair.

  Val approached her. “Maria?”

  “Yes. You are Suzette’s friend?” She spoke English with a slight accent.

  Val nodded, relieved not to be having this conversation in Spanish. She introduced herself and explained how she knew Suzette.

  “Suzette told me about you and your grandfather. We meet, she and I, two times a week to practice English and Spanish. Half an hour for each language. It’s good to—” Maria broke off. “Why didn’t she come to work today? Is she sick?”

  Val took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to tell you this. She was hit by a car this morning.”

  Maria’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no. Poor Suzette. Is she hurt bad?”

  As far as Val knew, the chief hadn’t confirmed the victim’s identity. She didn’t want to say Suzette was dead or give Maria false hope. “She’s badly injured.”

  “I am so sad,” Maria said. “I like her very much.”

  “I thought she might have a special friend here. Maybe you?”

  “We are friends. Yes.”

  “Last night Suzette dressed up for Halloween and wore a maid’s uniform. I came to return it. Did she borrow it from you?”

  When the maid nodded, Val took the tunic from her tote bag and gave it to her.

  Maria clutched it. “Gracias.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  Val had no words of comfort, but she had questions about Suzette’s workplace, based on her circuitous and varied routes home from the inn. “Did Suzette have problems at work? Any trouble?”

  Maria gave her a long look. “She talked to you about that?”

  Val wished she could say yes. “No, but I had a feeling something was wrong.” Val reminded herself to use the present tense. “Is Suzette friendly with others who work here besides you?”

  “I don’t think so, but I have little to do with the office and reception workers.”

  “Is there anyone at the inn who has a reason to dislike her?”

  Maria bit her lip. “Wherever you work, some do not like others. It is best not to ask such questions of people you do not know. I must leave now.”

  Nothing stirred Val’s curiosity more than being warned not to ask questions. She fished a business card from her tote bag and gave it to Maria. “Please call me if you want to talk more about your friend. We can do it half in English and half in Spanish if you like. I could use the practice.”

  Maria thanked her for the offer and hurried away, as if brushing off a street vendor. Why had she warned Val off? Could Granddad have been right that Suzette didn’t want someone from the inn finding out where she lived? Maybe she’d asked him about investigating people online in order to check the criminal background of a coworker.

  Thinking about Suzette’s avoidance of the direct way home, Val took a zigzag route away from the inn. When she was halfway to the house, her phone chimed. She pulled it from her bag and read the caller ID. Chief Yardley. He might have an update about the hit-and-run.

  Chapter 7

  The chief told Val that Wanda Cripps had identified her daughter from a photo. “She hadn’t seen Suzette in six or seven years.”

  “Suzette was still a teenager. Why would she leave home and never go back?”

  “Her momma didn’t volunteer that. Neither of them reached out to each other during those years. She didn’t seem broken up about the death of her child.”

  Val groaned. “Something awful must have happened between them. Did she mention other family members?”

  “When I asked about notifying Mr. Cripps, she said there wasn’t one. Wanda Cripps raised her daughter, her only child, alone. She asked where the girl had been living so she could clear out her belongings. I didn’t want to give out your granddaddy’s address or phone number. I told her someone would be in touch about that.”

  “You didn’t mention the will?”

  “The executor should contact the mother and tell her the terms of the will. It’s not a police matter or anything your granddaddy needs to deal with.”

  “I’ll call the cousin. Her phone number is in Suzette’s will.” Val had kept walking while on the phone. She turned onto Grace Street. Home was now a block ahead. “Have you heard from drivers or joggers who were on the peninsula road when Suzette was?”

  “I put out a bulletin for anyone who was there around seven this morning to contact the police. So far no one has responded, but the bulletin’s only been online and on the radio. I’ll release Suzette’s name to the media tomorrow but not her address. The news of the accident will be on local TV and in the newspaper. We may hear from someone after that.”

  Possibly a witness, but probably not the driver, who wouldn’t want to admit to having killed someone. “I’ll let Granddad know where things stand. Thanks for keeping us up-to-date, Chief.”

  Approaching the house, Val saw that Granddad’s Buick wasn’t parked in front of the house. Once inside, she called Suzette’s cousin, Sandy Sechrest, and reached her voice mail. Val wouldn’t want to hear about the death of a relative on voice mail. She left a message saying who she was and asking Sandy to call back for important information about Suzette.

  Suzette’s mother might have already notified Sandy and other family members. But who would tell Suzette’s writing group before the news was announced locally? The easiest person to locate might be the published author mentoring the Fictionistas. She was sure to have an online presence. Val hadn’t recognized the woman’s name when she heard it last night, but she remembered it.

  She sat down at the computer in the study, entered Gillian Holroyd writer into a search box, and clicked on the author’s website. It listed almost a dozen books by Ms. Holroyd, including suspense, paranormal romances, and historical fiction. The contact information on the site included the writer’s e-mail address.

  Val wrote a message similar to the voice mail she’d left for Suzette’s cousin. She also explained that she’d learned Gillian’s name while talking to the writing group. After sending the message, Val noticed an e-mail from Monique. Attached to it was a doctored photo of Suzette and her cousin. Monique had made both young women look a few years older. Granddad came into the house while Val was printing copies of the picture.

  She called him into the study and told him what the chief had said about Suzette’s mother. “I left a voice mail for Suzette’s cousin. I hope she’ll tell Wanda Cripps the terms of the will, so we don’t have to deal with her.”

  “I’m glad Suzette’s name won’t be released until tomorrow. If I can find the number of her previous employer, Mrs. Patel, I’ll call her. It’s better she hears what happened to Suzette from me than from the TV or the newspaper.”

  “Same for the people in Suzette’s writing group. I e-mailed the leader, assuming she’d have contact information for them.” Val showed him the touched-
up photo of Suzette. “Not a perfect likeness, but closer than the picture of her as a teen.”

  Granddad studied the photo. “It’ll do. This evening I’ll go to bars and restaurants near the bookshop and show it to the folks who were working Saturday night. Maybe one of them saw her last night with her cousin or someone else.”

  A long shot. If she’d met a person who had a car, they didn’t necessarily stay in Bayport. “Where have you been this afternoon, Granddad?”

  “Talking to Mrs. Jackson, the widow who blamed a ghost for swiping things from the house. She lives on the other side of Easton. Took me a while to drive there and back with the weekend traffic.” He turned to leave the study. “I’m going to the kitchen for a snack. Come with me, and I’ll tell you about her problem.”

  They trooped from the study through the sitting room, the dining room, and the butler’s pantry to the kitchen.

  Val put the kettle on. “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, I want a beer.” He opened the fridge. “Mrs. Jackson didn’t have the problem I expected—misplaced keys or glasses. Some of her sterling silver is missing. She had a service for twelve, but now she has only five or six of each piece.”

  Val sat down at the small breakfast table. “Could Mrs. Jackson be wrong? Maybe she only ever had a service for eight. It’s easy for knives, forks, and spoons to go astray. You know how careful Grandma was with her silver, and she lost a few pieces over the years.”

  “Mrs. Jackson said she used to have ten people at family dinners and they had enough silver to go around. All her serving pieces are gone too.” Granddad filled a bowl with pretzels. “She doesn’t use the silver much anymore. It could have disappeared months ago without her knowing.”

  “Hard to catch a thief when you don’t know when the theft occurred. Who else has access to her house?”

  “You’re asking all the same questions I did.” Granddad brought his beer and the pretzels to the table. “Mrs. Jackson’s hired a few repairmen to fix things in the last six months. A cleaning team comes every other week. Once a month she invites neighbors for happy hour.”