Mrs. Carlyle's Second Honeymoon

by L. K. Campbell

  While Celeste was dressing, her smartphone rang. It’s Bill Matthews. He’s probably already heard the news. I guess I will need some public relations help after this.

  “Hello, Bill,” she said.

  “Celeste, I just saw the news.” He paused and coughed. “How is Emma taking it?”

  He’d used her first name. At the wedding, Celeste thought that she’d seen a spark of recognition between the two of them.

  “She’s taking it as well as can be expected,” she said.

  She didn’t want to share too much regarding the allegations Roger had made or the police visit to the hotel.

  “I’ll drop by and see you later today,” he said. “In case we have to do some damage control.”

  “Well, I hope that won’t be necessary,” she said. “Mr. Carlyle’s death had nothing to do with the hotel.”

  She sensed hesitation on the line. “Is there any word on what did cause his death?”

  “Not that I feel comfortable revealing in a phone conversation, Bill.”

  A beat of silence hung on the line before he spoke again. “We’ll talk later,” he said.

  Celeste laid down the phone and went into the bathroom to apply her makeup. She’d never worn much but she did like to use some powder foundation to cover her age spots. This morning, she needed it to conceal her puffy eyes. When she emerged from her bedroom, she found Emma sitting on the sofa in the living room. A Scooby Doo cartoon played on the television. Perhaps, she needs to take her mind off of the real world right now. Emma cradled a cup of coffee and stared at the liquid without drinking it.

  “This certainly wasn’t what I’d envisioned doing this morning,” Emma said. “We were leaving for Charlotte later this morning. Wes had an important business deal that needed his input. But later in the week, we were planning to fly down to the Bahamas.” She paused and blew on her coffee before she sipped it. “I’ve had one idyllic honeymoon in my life. I guess a second one wasn’t meant to be.”

  Her mention of the business deal brought Kylie’s phone conversation to mind. She also thought of the kiss she’d witnessed between Kylie and Bill.

  “Emma, are you acquainted with Bill Matthews?”

  Her eyebrows rose as if she might have been surprised at Celeste’s question.

  “Yes, I knew him in college. We both majored in public relations and graduated the same year. He and Dave were frat brothers.”

  “Class of 2000,” Celeste said. “I read that in his website bio. I’m a new client of his.”

  Emma’s facial expression relaxed. “He’s very good, and he was top of the class. We worked at the same PR firm in Charlotte until he decided to move here and go into business for himself.”

  “What is your impression of him as a person?”

  A shrug of one shoulder and a sideways glance preceded her answer. “He lost touch with us when he made the move to Blowing Rock. He sent flowers to Dave’s funeral, but at that point, I hadn’t seen him in a few years. That’s why it surprised me when…” She paused to sip her coffee.

  “When what?”

  “He’d heard that Wes and I were engaged, and he called me out-of-the-blue to tell me that the Harvest Moon had been renovated and renamed, and I should consider it for the ceremony.”

  So Bill’s expensive ad campaigns didn't bring you here. Interesting. Emma pressed the guide button on the remote to show the time. I only have a few spare minutes. Her question regarding Kylie’s involvement with Bill would have to wait.

  “I have to go,” Celeste said. “But I’ll deliver breakfast to you.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t eat,” she said.

  Celeste was sure that the police wouldn’t wait too long to return to the hotel to question the Carlyle family. Emma would need to fortify herself for that encounter.

  “I’ll be back with your breakfast in a few minutes,” Celeste said. “And I want you to eat.”

  Halfway to the kitchen, she realized that she’d sounded like a mother hen. Well, I raised two kids. Old habits do die hard.

  The aroma of apple turnovers baking in the oven greeted Celeste when she entered the kitchen. Henrietta was also busy cooking sausage and eggs.

  “Morning, Mrs. Adams,” she said. “Looks like another beautiful day.”

  She must not know that Wes Carlyle died last night. “Yes, for now, at least.”

  Celeste removed a clean apron from the cabinet in the laundry room and tied it around her waist. She swung the rolling cart around next to the island and began stacking paper plates, plastic utensils, and napkins onto it.

  “Henrietta, I need to make you aware of something so that it won’t come as a shock to you.”

  The woman turned slowly from the oven. “Are you laying me off, ma’am?”

  “Oh, no, not at all. I need you too much,” Celeste said. “This is the second time this morning that I should have chosen my words better. Last night, we had a death in the hotel.”

  The spoon fell from Henrietta’s hand as she pirouetted one-hundred-eighty degrees to face Celeste.

  “Who?”

  “The man who was married here yesterday,” Celeste said. “And the police are questioning whether or not he died of natural causes.”

  Her cook’s eyes popped open as wide as her mouth. “Do you mean…are you saying he was murdered?”

  “I’m not saying anything, Henrietta, but the police are investigating his death, and they’ll be here this morning, probably sooner rather than later, to continue their investigation.”

  “Oh, good grief. Police running around the hotel is the last thing you need.”

  “Yes, my sentiments exactly.” She rolled the cart to the door. “But I hope they’ll stay in the conference room until they’ve spoken to everyone involved. Anyway, don’t let anything you might hear bother you.”

  She pushed the cart into the café and readied the buffet table. Afterward, she changed the coffee grounds and filled the coffee machines with fresh water. When she reached under the counter for a stack of cups, a keycard fell out onto the floor. What is this keycard doing in here? She bent down to grab it but stopped when she thought of Emma’s missing card. Could the person who stole Emma’s keycard have tossed it in that cabinet to hide it? She used a paper napkin to pick it up and wrapped it in another napkin. I’ll give it to the police when they arrive. If it’s Emma’s card, the person who took it may have left fingerprints.

  She returned to the kitchen and filled a takeout container with a few items that Emma might want to eat—eggs, toast, and of course, one of Henrietta’s apple turnovers.

  “Henrietta, I’m taking this to Mrs. Carlyle,” she said. “I won’t be long.”

  When Celeste opened her cottage door, she caught the tail end of a phone conversation that heightened her suspicious nature.

  “No, I can’t leave,” Emma said. “The police are coming to question me, and I can’t get into the suite to collect the rest of my belongings…Yes, I have it. I wouldn’t have left it in the suite…I signed it after the wedding but didn’t give it to Wes.”

  “Excuse me, Emma,” Celeste called from the doorway.

  The phone fell from Emma’s grasp and hit the floor. She bent over to retrieve it.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Celeste said.

  Emma put the phone to her ear and ended the conversation. “I’m okay. I just dropped the phone. I’ll call you when I have more information. Tell Mom and Dad not to worry.” She pressed the end call icon and addressed Celeste. “You didn’t startle me. That was Nathan. I guess I’m kind of jumpy considering everything that’s happened.”

  “That’s understandable. As promised, I brought you a light breakfast,” Celeste said. “Hopefully, eating something will calm your nerves.”

  Emma reached for the box. “You understand how it is. There are a lot of things I have to iron out. At this point, I’m all up in the air.”

  “I remember that feeling,” Celeste said, although she hadn’t faced a
ny of the difficulties confronting Emma. There’d been no question that Howard’s death had been accidental.

  She backed toward the door. She didn’t want Emma to feel that she was hovering. She also decided not to mention the keycard she’d found. Emma’s demeanor when Celeste had questioned her earlier regarding who might have wanted to search the suite gave Celeste cause to think that Emma wasn’t being entirely forthcoming on the subject.

  “If you need anything, just call the kitchen,” Celeste said. “The hotel numbers are by the landline phone.”

  As she closed the door behind her, Celeste felt unsettled. There are too many bad vibes surrounding the Carlyles. Have I already involved myself too much?

  “Mrs. Adams,” a voice sounded across the lawn.

  Celeste looked in the direction of the pool. Her groundskeeper, Kevin approached her. The man was in his early seventies, and like Henrietta, worked at the hotel to supplement his retirement income. The previous owners had employed Kevin, and Howard had kept him on the payroll.

  “Kevin, when are you going to call me Celeste? Honestly, when someone older than I am calls me Mrs. Adams, I feel ancient.”

  Kevin chuckled. “Just my upbringing, ma’am.”

  “And you can drop the ma’am, too,” she said. “Now, what did you need?”

  “I was cleaning around the pool,” he said. “And found a keycard under one of the chairs.”

  Another missing keycard? He handed it to her, and she took it from him.

  “Someone must have dropped it,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. The image of Missy standing out by the pool after midnight materialized. She stuck the keycard into the same apron pocket where she’d stowed the other one.

  “Kevin, have you heard that a man died in the hotel last night?”

  He nodded. “Henrietta told me a few minutes ago. That’s a sad thing, isn’t it?”

  “Yes…sad. Speaking of Henrietta, I’m sure she needs me in the kitchen. As I told her, I expect the police to be here later this morning. Try not to let it worry you.”

  “You either, Mrs…Celeste.”

  She smiled and sighed. “I’m trying, Kevin.”

  None of the Carlyles came down to the café for breakfast. Celeste hadn’t expected them to make an appearance considering the horrible night they’d had. However, Alan called the kitchen and asked for enough food to feed the six of them. Before she ended the call, he asked a question that surprised her.

  “Where is Emma?”

  Hadn’t Roger told his siblings that Emma was staying in the cottage?

  “She’s on the premises,” Celeste said. Considering the ransacking of the suite, she didn’t reveal Emma’s exact whereabouts.

  “Okay,” he said and lowered his voice as he added, “Tell her I’m thinking of her.”

  Ahem. Well, at least one member of that family knows how to show some kindness.

  “I will when I see her. I’ll bring your breakfast to you in a few minutes.”

  She grabbed a takeout box and placed six apple turnovers in it. In another box, she dished up generous portions of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. When she entered the lobby, curiosity propelled her to stop at the check-in counter first and run the two keycards through the scanner. On the one Kevin found, room number 302 displayed on the screen. She clicked on the registration page. Mr. and Mrs. Tom Carlyle appeared by that room number. As I suspected, Missy must’ve dropped the card last night. The one she’d found in the internet café scanned as room number 403, the honeymoon suite. Celeste returned it to her apron pocket and headed for the elevator.

  As the doors were closing, she saw a police car come through the drop-off lane. Damn, I was hoping the family would have a chance to eat breakfast before they had to deal with them. The front door would remain locked until Maddie arrived for work at eight a.m. The security app on her smartphone dinged. She waited to answer it until she’d exited the elevator into the third-floor hallway. Onscreen, a uniformed officer and a man in a business suit came into view. She tapped the icon to unlock the door followed by the icon to activate the mic.

  “The door is unlocked,” she said. “Someone will be right with you.”

  She dropped her phone into her pocket and knocked on Alan’s door, room 301. Kylie answered her knock and held the door ajar a few inches. Her appearance rattled Celeste so that she couldn’t speak for a moment. This was not the put-together woman she’d seen a day earlier, and she’d been crying some heavy-duty tears.

  “Your husband ordered breakfast,” Celeste said.

  The door parted far enough for Kylie to take the boxes from Celeste. “Thank you,” she said.

  Celeste stuck her foot partway in the door to keep Kylie from closing it.

  “I don’t like being the bearer of bad news, especially at a time like this, but the police are here,” Celeste said. “I’m going to let them use the conference room for their interviews so you might want to be prepared.”

  Kylie swiped her hand across her forehead and brushed her hair out of her face.

  “I’ll tell Alan. He’s in the shower right now,” she said and shut the door without further adieu.

  Wow, okay. Celeste strolled across the hall and knocked on 302. Tom came to the door. Celeste took the keycard from her apron pocket and handed it to him.

  “My groundskeeper found this,” she said. “Are you missing your card?”

  “I’m not,” he said. “But Missy lost hers last night.” He hesitated a moment. “Where did the groundskeeper find it?”

  Celeste felt no need to cover up any details. “He found it down by the pool.” She stepped away from the door. “Oh, the police are here. They want to speak with each of you. They’ll probably call you downstairs individually.”

  He shook his head while looking down at the floor. “This is unreal,” he whispered.

  “You have my sympathy,” she said.

  Tom closed the door, and she entered the elevator. She exhaled the air in her lungs and composed herself before stepping into the lobby. She walked over to where the officers were standing.

  “I’m Celeste Adams,” she said. “I own this hotel.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the uniformed officer said. “Sgt. Nichols gave us your name. I’m Sgt. Hammond and this is Detective Woods.”

  The man attired in the business suit stepped forward. Both were older men than the ones who had come to search the suite the previous evening. From the gray hair on his temples and the crow’s feet at his eyes, she guessed that Sgt. Hammond was probably close to, if not already, in his fifties. Detective Woods, also in that age range, wasn’t unfamiliar to her. She’d seen him speak at a local Relay for Life event, recounting his late wife’s battle with cancer.

  Celeste reached into the pocket of her apron and extracted the wrapped keycard. “I found something in the internet café this morning that may or may not have anything to do with your case.”

  “What is it?” Detective Woods asked.

  “It’s the missing keycard for the honeymoon suite. Last night, we discovered that someone had entered the suite and searched it before your fellow officers arrived.”

  “And you think someone might have used this card to gain entrance?” the Detective asked.

  “Emma…Mrs. Carlyle’s card is missing, and I found this in a peculiar place. When I ran it through the scanner, it registered as the honeymoon suite.”

  The detective took it from her hand and dropped it into a plastic bag that Sgt. Hammond held. “Dust it and see if there are any fingerprints on it,” he said and then addressed Celeste. “We’d like to begin interviewing the family members. Do you have an office we could use?”

  Celeste motioned for them to follow her into the conference room. “You can use this room.”

  “We’d like to speak with the widow, first,” Detective Woods said.

  “I’ll get her for you,” she said. “The other family members are in rooms 301 through 304. The desk clerk can call them down for
you when you’re ready. Would you like coffee while you wait for Mrs. Carlyle?”

  “That would be nice, thank you,” Detective Woods said.

  When she returned to the kitchen, Abby was there, helping Henrietta.

  “Good grief, I’m going to have to put you on the payroll.”

  Abby laughed. “I’ll send you my bill.”

  “I can’t talk right now. I have to tell Emma that the police are here to speak with her.”

  “Oh, dear,” Abby said. “That poor woman.”

  “At the risk of sounding like a needy friend, could I impose on you to take two cups of coffee to the conference room?”

  “Sure, anything I can do,” Abby said.

  Celeste hurried out to the cottage and was surprised to find Bill sitting on the sofa with Emma. Their posture suggested that they’d been having a disagreement. His head snapped around, and he shot to his feet.

  “Bill, I didn’t expect to see you this early,” Celeste said.

  “Strike while the iron is hot,” he said.

  She let his words go past her and focused on Emma. “The police want to speak with you in the conference room.”

  Emma straightened her posture with a sigh and nodded. She pulled a couple of tissues from the box on the coffee table and stuffed them into the pocket of her jeans.

  “Answer their questions directly but don’t volunteer any information,” Bill said.

  “Did your law degree come from binge-watching Law & Order?” Emma asked.

  His eyes narrowed as if she’d offended him. Emma turned away and hurried to the door. Remembering that Emma didn’t have a keycard, Celeste called after her. “Follow the path to the kitchen and go in that way.”

  Bill watched Emma leave and then made himself at home on the sofa again.

  “Bill, I appreciate your coming over so early, but I don’t have time to talk right now. We’re in the middle of serving breakfast, and I’m needed in the kitchen.”

  He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

  “I thought you’d be frantic. A death in the hotel could cause adverse publicity. I guess I was wrong.”

  “I’ve never been one to believe in the old adage that any publicity is good publicity,” she said. “And I am upset that apparently, the local media felt the need to splash the hotel name across the news ticker.”