0519331001428587579 murder at the inn
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brought them up to the front.
“Woops. This piece is for you.” Tony laughed as he moved the piece of cake to his wife and took the other piece. “You wanted the one with the hearts.”
Tony and Meadow both stood up and each took their slice of cake in their hands. They looked into each other’s eyes with a smile on their faces. Anna couldn’t help but smile until she noticed that Meadow was eyeing another man in the room and gave him a subtle wink. She recognized him as Roger Fox, an ex-con and bad news as far as Anna was concerned. Part of her hoped that Tony hadn’t made a mistake in avoiding a prenuptial.
“Now, normally, the bride and groom cut a slice of the cake and serve it to each other.” Tony smiled. “But I didn’t want her to ruin her $5,000 manicure using a knife.”
The room laughed. Anna caught herself smiling at the joke.
“So, we let Anna and her team cut the cake and choose our slices for us. Now, on the count of three, we’ll smash cake in each other’s faces.”
“Can you eat your piece first?” Meadow asked. “It smells very strong and I really am not sure I’ll actually like the rum in it.”
“Of course, Pookie.” He laughed. “Okay, first we count to three for me. One! Two! Three!
Let’s do this, baby!”
With that, Tony opened his mouth wide and Meadow shoved as much cake as she could into it. Tony turned bright red with tears dripping down his face. He looked like he was struggling to not laugh at what was happening.
Meadow let out a snorted laugh and the room embraced the laughter even more. But after a few seconds, the sound of laughter began to die down. Tony had started to foam at the mouth and some cake fell from his mouth. His eyes rolled up in his head and he started to convulse. People began to scream and the man fell down on the table in front of him, shattering glasses, spilling champagne as he flopped around a bit more before becoming still. His mouth frozen open as the life left his eyes.
A pudgy woman gasped from behind Anna and she turned for a moment to see cake on the woman’s face.
“I have low blood sugar.” the woman said. “Was he just poisoned? Am I going to die?”
“No, you are fine. There is no reason for the cake to be poisoned. This is something else.”
Anna tried to calm the woman.
“I ate the poison cake, too.” the woman screamed at the top of her lungs and the guests turned their attention to the woman. “Someone poisoned me, too! Oh, God! Someone please call 9-1-1! I feel like I am going to die.”
The woman collapsed to the ground and worried guests rushed over to her. Anna could see she was still breathing. Cautiously hopeful, Anna made her way over to Tony, who was lying dead on the reception table, his dead eyes burning into her accusingly. She reached down, praying for a pulse, but there was none.
“No one move! This room is an active crime scene and no one is leaving until I say so.”
shouted an older man with short-cropped hair and a bushy brown moustache as he raised a badge. “My name is Detective Michael Maese. I am in charge and I need your cooperation to keep this from getting out of hand. Everyone turn in your cell phones. I don’t need a media circus here either.” Detective Maese was annoyed that the good time he was having at the ball was interrupted. This was despite the fact he didn't have far to go to attend this crime scene.
As people brought their phones up to the detective, Anna couldn’t help but wonder who would want to kill Tony. Did he have enemies in his hometown in New Jersey? Or was Tony just a pawn in a greater scheme to give the Grand Palatial some negative publicity? Other newer hotels have always hated it for its prestige and being a classic celebrity attraction. This is despite the Grand Palatial having a big downturn in revenues over the past few years as people have started to look at less expensive hotels.
In the back of the room, she caught the three video recorders that were going, filming the entire wedding to be released to the media afterward. She walked over to them, cautious enough not to be noticed. Pulling the tape from each, she slipped them onto a plate and covered them with a silver cloche. She’d take it back to her room when she could and look it over. The killer had to be on one of the videos and she’d help the police find the killer. The video would prove to be helpful.
As she tried to slip into the kitchen with the tapes, she felt a firm hand shove her through the wooden door.
“Is there something mentally wrong with you?” the voice shouted at her.
Expecting to turn and see her father, the voice belonged to Antonio Puccio, the Entertainment Director of the entire Grand Palatial chain and Anna’s boss. The Italian accent was thick and she could see his face etched in pure anger.
“I don’t understand what you mean.” Anna smiled. “I had nothing to do with this.’
“The Grand Palatial needs someone to blame. Get this resolved now. I don’t care if you have to fire someone and make a big production out of it, but if there is even a smudge on our name because of a staff member, you will never work in the industry ever again. Do I make myself clear, little woman?”
“Perfectly.” Anna replied coldly. “I’ll take care of this, Antonio.”
“It’s Mr. Puccio!” The man turned and threw open the door, causing it to crack. “Son of a –”
Catching himself, he took a deep breath. “You have 48 hours, Anna. Make this all go away or you’re done. The police already have us on lockdown.”
Anna looked around and felt hopeless. The police had people in lines and were talking to them. For a moment, she felt hopeless and uncertain but she knew she had to do something, otherwise, no one would ever trust her with an event again.
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About The Author
For many, the thought of childhood conjures images of hopscotch games in quiet
neighbourhoods, and sticky visits to the local sweet shop. For Penelope Sotheby, childhood meant bathing in Bermuda, jiving in Jamaica and exploring a string of strange and exotic British territories with her nomadic family. New friends would come and go, but her constant companion was an old, battered collection of Agatha Christie novels that filled her hours with intrigue and wonder.
Penelope would go on to read every single one of Christie’s sixty-six novels—multiple times—and so was born a love of suspense than can be found in Sotheby’s own works today.
In 2011 the author debuted with “Murder at the Inn” , a whodunit novella set on Graham Island off the West Coast of Canada. After receiving positive acclaim, Sotheby went on to write the series “Murder in Paradise” ; five novels following the antics of a wedding planner navigating nuptials (and crime scenes) in the tropical locations of Sotheby’s formative years.
An avid gardener, proud mother, and passionate host of Murder Mystery weekends, Sotheby can often be found at her large oak table, gleefully plotting the demise of her friends, tricky twists and grand reveals.
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