Celeste pressed her tired muscles into the recliner and was tempted to flip on the massager that Howard used for his occasional bout of sciatica. She was afraid that combining a massage with the rum might send her off to sleepy land and then she’d be no help to Emma.
“Howard took a group of hotel guests on a hike. We’d had a lot of rain in the preceding days, but Howard thought that the trail would be dry enough for the trek. Unfortunately, he stepped too close to the edge of a steep embankment, and the small boulder he was standing on came loose from the ground and plunged down the hillside taking him with it. His neck was broken. He died on the way to the hospital.”
“So you didn’t even have an opportunity to say goodbye?”
Celeste managed to swallow a gulp of the drink before her throat tightened and closed up. She fought to keep from crying. I need to change the subject.
“Did you and Dave have any children?”
Emma shook her head. “No, it wasn’t for lack of trying, and several years into our marriage, we went to a fertility doctor. They found that one of my ovaries was deformed. It never developed to a normal stage. They said that I could conceive, but it would be hit or miss. We just never had a hit. It was something I deeply regretted after…well…they say things happen for a reason.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I wish someone could give me a reason for what has happened tonight.”
A phone rang startling both of them.
“That sounds like mine,” Emma said. She fished it out of her purse and stared at the screen. “It’s Roger. He must need me for something.”
Sensing that Emma might want privacy, Celeste picked up the overnight bag and took it into the guest room. She folded down the comforter on the bed. Her son had come for a visit less than a month earlier so she knew the sheets were fresh and clean. This young woman has had more than her share of heartache. I hope she can sleep tonight. As soon as the last thought crossed her mind, she heard Emma cry out. Celeste ran into the living room. Emma stood in front of the sofa grasping her phone with both hands. Tremors rocked her body.
“Emma, what’s wrong?”
Her mouth dropped open, but it took a few seconds for the words to come out.
“They took a blood sample and ran a toxicology report. The doctor found something in his bloodstream that shouldn’t have been there. It most likely caused his stroke.”
“What was it?”
“Roger wouldn’t tell me. I asked him, and he said he didn’t have time to talk now.” She threw herself against the sofa and wailed. “Roger believes I killed his father. He thinks I poisoned him.”
“Now, Emma, did he actually say that to you?”
“He didn’t have to,” she said. “I could tell by the tone of his voice. The rest of them will feel the same way.”
“Maybe you misread him.”
Three bells sounded from the security system mounted on the kitchen wall. Celeste tapped the icon to show the monitor screen. Oh, God, no.
“The police are here,” she said. Her heartbeat increased. This is a nightmare. She keyed in the code to release the door lock and touched the mic icon. “May I help you, officers?”
“We need to secure and search one of your rooms,” one of the uniformed officers answered.
“This is Celeste Adams. I own the hotel, and I’m on the premises. The door is unlocked now. Please wait in the lobby, and I’ll be right over.”
Emma started to rise from the sofa, and Celeste laid a hand on her shoulder. “You should stay here, Emma. This might be a good time to call your sister in case you need her help.”
As dangerous as it might have been to quicken her pace in the dark, Celeste did break into a run along the path. The sooner the police could get in and out of the hotel, the less chance there would be of creating alarm among the several other guests who’d checked in that afternoon. She slowed down when she heard a woman’s voice in the vicinity of the pool. She looked in that direction. The pool closed at eleven p.m., but Missy stood next to the diving board talking on the phone. She’d changed into a pair of loose-fitting pink pajamas and she appeared to be barefoot. She shouldn’t be there at this hour.
“I don’t know how it happened,” Missy said into the phone. “But I had to come outside in the fresh air before I lost my mind…If they were married less than twenty-four hours, is it even legal? Can she still inherit everything? …Maybe we don’t have anything to worry about.”
Oh, good, Lord. Celeste hurried to unlock the kitchen door and scampered through the darkened room to the hallway. As she entered the lobby, one officer stepped forward while the other stayed off to the side. He pointed to his badge and nametag.
“I’m Sergeant Nichols,” he said. “I'm here to investigate the death that occurred earlier this evening.”
Celeste pretended that she wasn’t privy to what Roger told Emma.
“Is that normal procedure?” she asked. “The lead paramedic gave me the impression that he suspected Mr. Carlyle had a stroke.”
“There’s been more information, ma’am,” Sergeant Nichols said.
“Of course, well, it’s the honeymoon suite on the fourth floor,” she said. “I’ll take you up and let you into the room.”
She went behind the check-in counter and retrieved one of the master keys from under the cash drawer. As the officers followed her into the elevator, she spied Missy entering the lobby from the pool door. Before, in the dark, she hadn’t been able to see the dark circles under the woman’s eyes. Something is wrong with her. The elevator doors closed before Missy reached them, and Celeste breathed a sigh of relief.
On the fourth floor, she entered the honeymoon suite and touched the light switch inside the door. She gasped at the sight illuminated by the table lamps.
“What the heck,” she said.
Wes’s black suitcase lay unzipped on the sofa with all of its contents scattered on the floor. Looking through to the bedroom, she could see Emma’s red suitcase on the bed in the same condition. The dresser drawers and the bedside table drawer were ajar. The phone book and visitor information guide had been tossed onto the floor.
“Ma’am, what’s wrong?” Sgt. Nichols asked.
She moved forward into the room, and Sergeant Nichols followed on her heels.
“What a mess,” he said.
What a mess, indeed. What in the devil is happening in my hotel?
“Sergeant, someone has been in this suite since the last time I saw it,” she said. “I escorted Mrs. Carlyle from here personally, and I can assure you, we didn’t leave it this way.”
“Did anyone else have a keycard for this room?” he asked.
“Wes and Emma Carlyle should’ve had the only cards.”
Sergeant Nichols appeared to be the one in charge because he gave the other officer orders. “Go ahead and put the tape across the door, and let’s start our search in here.”
If he were poisoned, wouldn’t it have happened at the restaurant? “I’m not sure what kind of evidence you hope to find here, but from the looks of this suite, it may have already been removed,” she said.
He shot a perturbed look at her. “When investigating a possible homicide, we take nothing for granted.”
“Okay, I’ll get out of your way and let you do your job. If you need me for anything, I’ll be downstairs at the reception desk checking on the keycard situation.”
“Where can we find Emma Carlyle? We’d like to question her.”
Perhaps, she’d already injected herself too far into the situation, but for now, her concern was for Emma’s state of mind.
“Can’t that wait? It’s almost one a.m., and she’s had a terrible shock. I hope she’s asleep right now.”
The officer’s pensive expression softened somewhat. “We’ll talk to her in the morning but tell her not to leave the premises.”
“Does that go for the rest of the family, as well?” she asked. “His sons and their wives are staying on the third floor.”
“We spoke wi
th the oldest son, Roger, at the hospital. He said that he would inform the others to stay put until we’ve had a chance to interview each of them.”
To exit the suite, she had to duck under the yellow tape that stretched across the door. Who could have gained access to this room and searched those suitcases? Her attention went to the sound of the elevator doors closing. She raised her line of sight to the lighted panel above the doors. The car came to a stop on the third floor. I wonder who was being nosy. She pushed the button to bring the car up to the fourth floor. While riding down, she took deep, calming breaths.
When the elevator reached the lobby, Roger was waiting. They traded places in the car, but she held the door long enough to speak her mind.
“Roger, I’m sorry about your father,” she said. “But I wish you wouldn’t be so quick to blame Emma for whatever it was that killed him.”
She’d seen contempt before, and she could see it now in the pulsating muscle just below his ear.
“Thank you for your sympathy but this is none of your business, Mrs. Adams.”
“Well, I think it is my business since your father died in my hotel.”
His chest heaved with a deep breath. “Don’t worry. No one is going to sue you for Dad’s death.”
“That’s the last thing on my mind right now. I’m concerned for a grieving, frightened widow.”
“I would suggest that you get to know Emma a little better before jumping to her defense,” he said. “Now, if you don’t mind, please release the door.”
Celeste stood her ground.
“Let me say one more thing,” she said. “I let the police into the honeymoon suite and found that between the time Emma and I left and the police arrived, someone gained access to the suite. Your father’s and Emma’s suitcases had been rifled and the drawers ransacked. Emma didn’t do it because she hasn’t been out of my sight since your father’s body was taken away.”
His brow furrowed. “Why would anyone do that?” He whispered the question as if asking it more to himself than to her.
“My thoughts exactly,” she said. “If your father was murdered, I don’t believe Emma is the logical suspect. There’s been an awful lot of sneaking around in this hotel tonight that could point fingers in many directions.”
With that, she released the door and let Roger go on his way. Celeste went behind the counter and wiggled the mouse to wake the computer. Now, let’s see how many keycards have been issued for that suite. As she suspected, Emma received one keycard at check-in, and Maddie issued another to Wesley when he moved to the honeymoon suite following the wedding reception. She rang the suite, and Sergeant Nichols answered the phone.
“Sergeant, this is Mrs. Adams downstairs. I just checked the computer and there were no other keycards issued other than the two to Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle.”
“Thank you for checking,” he said. “We haven’t found a keycard in the room.”
“I wonder if someone took it from the room during the commotion of Wes Carlyle’s death.”
Sergeant Nichols didn’t answer her query. In the background, she could hear the other officer speaking with someone else. Roger, more than likely.
“Yes, as I said, thank you for checking.” Sergeant Nichols said and hung up the phone without another word.
Celeste stared at the receiver. “Well, you’re welcome.”
I suppose he doesn’t want me getting involved. I’ve seen policemen treat Mrs. Fletcher that way on Murder, She Wrote. There’s one more thing I should check. She opened the cash drawer. Along with the master keycard she had in her pocket, there were three in the envelope—the correct number. That eases my mind. At least, no one has stolen one of our masters.
When she returned to the cottage, Emma had retired to the guest room. Her door was ajar and light from the bedside lamp streamed out. Celeste peeked inside. Emma was under the covers and appeared to be sleeping. I hope she can get some rest. Celeste eased the door shut and went to the living room. She glanced at Emma’s empty mug of hot buttered rum sitting on a coaster on the coffee table. I might need another one of those before I can sleep tonight.
Chapter 6
The ringing phone awakened Celeste. She rolled over in bed and saw six a.m. displayed on her clock. Who is calling at this time of the morning? She reached for her phone on the nightstand. Caller ID displayed Abby’s name when it rang again.
“Celeste, are you okay? What’s happening there?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Your phone call woke me. We did have a bad night here. The bridegroom died, but how did you hear about it?”
“Oh, Celeste, it made the news this morning. They said that they didn’t have any details yet…oh, wait, it just ran across the bottom of the screen again. It says, ‘Wesley Carlyle, wealthy Charlotte businessman dies at Gran Vista Hotel near Blowing Rock. Story still developing’.”
She sat upright and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Good Lord, Abby, why did they have to name the hotel? I have guests here who checked in yesterday and will be staying through the whole week. I don’t want them to be upset.”
“It is very early. Maybe none of them will see it.”
“That’s a lot to hope for,” she said. “I was glad that the ambulance driver didn’t turn on his siren last night—not to mention the police when they showed up.”
“Police? Why were the police there?”
The surprise and alarm in Abby’s voice told her that she probably shouldn’t have mentioned it on the phone. Some news needed to be delivered in person.
“Let me call you back, okay? I promise I’ll tell you everything after I get breakfast served to the guests.”
“You bet you will. I’ll see you shortly.”
She touched the end call icon and trotted across the hall to the guest room. She knocked first and called Emma’s name.
“Come in.”
Celeste entered the room and found Emma sitting on the edge of the bed dressed in blue jeans and a v-neck, knit top. She had the television on with the volume muted and a coffee cup in her hand.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Since around five a.m. The rum put me to sleep last night, but I guess it wore off a few hours later.”
“I’m glad you found the coffeemaker and figured out how it works.”
“I have one just like it.”
Glancing at the T.V., Celeste saw the local news. Well, I don’t have to tell her that all of western North Carolina and parts of Tennessee have learned of her husband’s death.
“Emma, I asked the police not to bother you last night, but they’ll be here this morning to question you.”
Emma clutched at her stomach as if she might become sick.
“Oh, God, I’ll bet Roger told them that I killed his father. How much do you want to bet, Mrs. Adams?”
Celeste decided not to reveal her conversation with Roger to Emma. It’s not the time to burden her any further.
“I can’t say what Roger has on his mind right now,” Celeste said. “If he’s anything like my children were, he’s still trying to process all of it and wondering how to face the fact that his dad is no longer here.”
“Are the rest of them still in the hotel?” she asked.
“Yes, they were told to stay until the police can interview each of them.”
Emma’s head dropped along with her countenance. “I understand.”
“Emma, when you and Wes came back from the restaurant last night, which one of you unlocked the door to your suite?”
Emma’s feet dropped over the edge of the bed. Her question shone on her face before she asked it.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Celeste eased into the chair next to the bed.
“Last night, when I let the police into the suite, someone had already searched it and left it a mess.”
She stopped short of informing Emma of the condition of her suitcase and clothing.
“
It must have been Roger. I’ll bet he took his dad’s key out of his pants pocket, and he searched the room looking for evidence against me.”
“It couldn’t have been Roger because he called you last night from the hospital only a few minutes before the police arrived.”
Emma settled against the pillows. “You’re right. He wouldn’t have had time.” She seemed deep in thought for a moment. “I swiped the card because Wes was wobbly, and I had to hold onto him. Then, I tossed my purse and the card onto the coffee table and helped him lie down on the sofa.” She leaned forward. “Come to think of it, when you and I were in the suite together, I don’t remember seeing my card but it was the last thing on my mind, and you locked the door behind us.” Emma grabbed her purse off of the bedside table and searched through it. “It’s not here. Someone took my keycard, Mrs. Adams.”
“All of our master keys are accounted for so that was the only possibility. Emma, what would he or she have been looking for?”
Emma’s eyes momentarily shifted to the bedside table, and Celeste saw the book Emma had brought from her hotel suite.
“I have no idea,” she said.
The time displayed in the bottom corner of the television’s viewing guide reminded Celeste of where she needed to be in thirty minutes.
“I have to dress and get over to the hotel to help cook and serve breakfast. Did you call your sister?”
“I talked to Beverly last night. She’ll come as soon as she can get here this morning,” Emma said.
“Good. You need your sister for moral support.”
A grimace appeared on Emma’s face, and Celeste remembered Beverly using those same words when she’d arrived two days earlier. She covered her mouth with her fingertips.
“Oh, I should’ve done a better job choosing my words.”
Emma smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay. I do need Beverly even more than I did then.”
Mrs. Carlyle's Second Honeymoon Page 6