She examined his face and shook her head. “Is this the man who got stabbed at the Hotel Piermont? I heard he was married with children.”
“Three young children.”
Shaking her head, she knitted her brows at the details of Canton’s children. “What on earth was he doing at that place then? Three children at home and he’s at that den of iniquity.”
Old school teachers always had the greatest names for things. The Hotel Piermont certainly had the makings of a den of iniquity. Smiling at her apt description of it, I said, “He seems to have been there for almost a week. Are you sure you never saw him around here, say at your neighbor Elizabeth Freely’s house?”
A rare smile brightened up her face. “The girl who likes to have the parties? I don’t think so.”
“Did you ever see any man at those parties?” I asked, sure if anyone had seen a man coming or going during them it would have been Mrs. Schultz. She said she liked to keep out of her neighbors’ business, but I knew she was too curious to live up to that.
“No. I even went over there one night to tell her to keep the music down since it was nearly eleven o’clock, but I saw it was just a lingerie party of some sort and figured I wouldn’t bother.”
“So you’re sure you never saw a man at any of the parties?”
“No. If that young man was at any of them, he must have found a different way to get in since I didn’t see him.”
I stood from the table and extended my hand to shake hers. “Thank you, Mrs. Schultz. I appreciate your help.”
She gave me another smile and then like we were both back in her classroom at Sunset Ridge Elementary, she pulled out a tiny pencil hidden in her bun and grabbed a napkin from the holder on the counter. She scribbled some words on it and handed me it.
“Give that to your editor and tell him I’m watching to see if it helps him.”
Looking down, I silently read the words she’d written and barely stifled my chuckle.
You’re in desperate need of Strunk and White. Get yourself a copy and do us all a favor.
“Thank you. I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Take care of yourself, Poppy. Asking questions can be a dangerous avocation. Maybe the police should accompany you when you go out for them.”
I smiled but didn’t answer her before I left and moved on to my next idea to solve the case. A quick look up toward Elizabeth’s house told me she had the day off, so this was a perfect time to speak to her manager at the hotel. If she and Canton Walters knew each other, someone had to see them together at some point, and he was the only person left to ask.
I found him behind the desk checking a couple in just before eleven o’clock. As the happy couple left to go upstairs to one of the rooms, I was greeted with the cheery smile of Andrew Rime, the manager of the Hotel Piermont. A nondescript man, he had brown hair, brown eyes, and wore a brown suit coat. Everything about him said bland. That he worked in a place that traded on sex and infidelity seemed odd since I had a hard time imagining him with anyone that way, but this was Sunset Ridge. That we had a den of iniquity at all struck me as strange.
“Hi, Mr. Rime. I got your name from your night clerk, Joe Steadman. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple questions.”
His smile disappeared, and he grumbled, “You’re that woman who’s always with the cop, aren’t you? I want you to know our business has suffered because of your investigation.”
“Neither Officer Montero nor I stabbed that poor man in the back in Room 307, Mr. Rime. We’re just trying to solve a murder case.” I took a quick glance behind him and saw nearly half the cubbies had no keys in them. “By the look of how many keys are out, you aren’t hurting for business.”
He spun around to look at the cubbies and then turned back around to glare at me. “What do you want?”
“Just a few answers about Elizabeth Freely and that’s it.”
“My desk clerk? What does she have to do with this?”
“Can you tell me if she has ever had any men visiting her at work?”
“I watch those tapes every day, and I can tell you unequivocally that she has never had any male visitors at work. What she does on her time off is her business, but what she does here is mine and she’s never entertained any men while she’s working.”
For a man who managed a hotel with its interesting reputation, he certainly seemed to be offended quite easily. Sure I wouldn’t get much more out of him before he stormed away, I snuck in one more question.
“Before I go, can you tell me if you believe Elizabeth knew the victim, Canton Walters?”
He must have expected me to ask something else because he opened his mouth to give me his answer and then said nothing. I waited and then he finally spoke his answer. “I don’t believe she did. Is that all?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I turned away to leave and one thing was clear. If Elizabeth Freely knew Canton Walters, there wasn’t a shred of evidence to prove it. I had to face the fact that whoever our killer was, it wasn’t her.
So it was time to look at the other suspects. I headed downtown to my father’s bar for a quick soda and to regroup before I went to see Mary again. As I walked in to find my usual barstool, I saw in the back of the room a pretty blond woman sitting alone and realized it was Delilah Roberts. She shyly waved for me to come back to her, so I made my way to the dark corner of the bar as I wondered what she was doing there.
“Hi, Delilah. How are you?”
She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you, so I figured I’d see if you came here.”
I took a seat at the tiny bar table. “Is everything okay?”
“I wanted to talk to you about that man who was murdered at the Hotel Piermont.”
“Canton Walters. Did you know him?”
Delilah’s eyes filled with tears, but she wouldn’t let herself cry. Straightening in her seat, she cleared her throat and said, “I never met Canton Walters.”
“We’ve heard he danced at one of your parties, Delilah. Is that not true?”
Her eyes opened wide and she shook her head violently. “No! You can ask any one of my friends. He’s never been at any of my parties.”
“We have asked your friends and they did say the same thing. The fact remains that it’s been mentioned. So if you aren’t here to tell me you knew him, why did you come looking for me?”
She took another deep breath and slowly let it out. “I wanted to explain about my husband. I’m worried you got the wrong idea about him when you and the officer came to the house. He’s not a bad man. He just doesn’t like me having my parties.”
The story my father told me about his friend and Cherie echoed in my head. Was Delilah like her and needed attention so much she’d risk her marriage to have an affair with Canton?
“Sometimes men don’t understand it’s the little things in life. Like sometimes it’s nice to have a little attention paid to what you’re doing, isn’t it? I get the feeling Alan doesn’t understand that.”
Delilah’s shoulders sagged and she nodded as I spoke. “He doesn’t understand that those parties aren’t all about sex. They’re about my friends and me having a good time. But all he sees is sex and he’s sure I’m out using the products when he’s not home.”
“He’s not home a lot, though, is he?”
For the first time, the tears that had been waiting finally spilled down onto her cheeks. Sobbing into her hands, she said, “It’s not his fault. He has to work that much. I know that. I just…I just wanted to know I was still desirable.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up straight. Had she confessed to having an affair with the victim?
Struggling to keep my voice even, I asked, “Did you sleep with Canton Walters? Is that what happened?”
She dropped her hands, and I saw the shock on her face as she exclaimed, “That’s not what I said! You’re twisting everything I’m saying into these horrible things!”
As I walked toward the door to leave, he saw me and called out, “Poppy, when did you come in?”
“This heat is making you guys slow, Dad. I’ve been here for about ten minutes. You didn’t see me come in?”
Albert, my father’s barber, chucked my father on the shoulder and joked, “We were deep into the game, Poppy. We didn’t get to watch it last week, so we figured we’d watch the replay today.”
“Sorry, honey. I guess I don’t notice you coming and going so much anymore since you’re here so often. You’re a regular like these guys now.”
The three men with my father raised their glasses of beer to welcome me to the club of regulars, and I thanked them as I walked out the door to head home. My time with Delilah had left me a bit rattled, and at that moment, I really didn’t feel like hanging out at my father’s bar with a bunch of old guys. I had a case to solve, even if I didn’t seem to be making as much headway as I’d hoped.
I arrived home to find a note slipped under my kitchen door from Alex saying he had found out something about the case he wanted to tell me. Why he couldn’t have merely texted me the same thing I had no idea, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.
A knock at my door startled me out of my thoughts about Alex, and I turned around to see Mary Jessick on my porch. She looked eager to speak to me, so I invited her in and hoped she could shed some light on what had just become a more muddled case.
“I’m sorry for coming to your house, but I wanted to speak to you without having to say this in front of the cop,” she said quietly as she took her seat at the kitchen table.
“No need to worry. He and I aren’t working together today, so it’s just the two of us.”
“Good. I had a feeling he didn’t quite understand the kind of person I am, but I think you do.”
Alex had acted a little provincial when we visited her, so I could understand her desire to speak when he wasn’t around. I offered her a drink of iced tea, and once we were seated again, she began to explain the real reason she was there.
“I’m not like people think, Poppy. They think I’m the town slut, but it’s not like that. I just like having fun.”
I understood exactly how she felt. “Sunset Ridge isn’t the most progressive place, is it? A woman dates more than one man and all of a sudden she’s a floozy.”
Mary’s mouth spread into a big smile. “I knew you’d understand. I bet you experience the same thing. The gossipy people in this town just can’t understand that a young woman would want to enjoy life before settling down to an existence of block parties and boring small town events.”
I took a sip of my tea and considered how to steer her toward talking about the case. Maybe a direct approach would do the trick. “Mary, was Canton Walters someone you had fun with?”
“I have seen the guy who died at the Piermont the other night. He and I met one night at Diamanti’s and he came back to my house. But I swear that he was alive the next morning and I didn’t kill him.”
“What night was that?”
“Monday. Poppy, I swear he was fine when he left my place. It was just one night and we had fun. That was it.”
I leaned forward and tried to tamp down my excitement at hearing what I’d suspected had happened. “Did you see him again before he died?”
“No.” She shook her head and frowned. “I didn’t want to lie, but I knew it looked bad. I couldn’t keep it in anymore, though. But I promise you he was fine when he left that morning.”
Uneasy about the next question I had to ask, I said, “I’m sorry if this sounds indelicate, but do you know if he was seeing anyone else in town while he was here?”
Mary thought about it for a second. “I wouldn’t doubt it. He was a good time. Lots of laughs. It wasn’t all about sex. Delilah came over that night and hung out with us and we all had a good time. Then after she left, he and I had our own good time.”
“You know, I just saw Delilah over at my father’s bar. It seemed odd since I’ve never seen her there before.”
Rolling her eyes, she clucked her tongue. “I’m surprised Alan let her out at all. He’s so difficult with her. That man won’t let her have a second of fun without making her regret it. She had to sneak out Monday night just to come to my house. If he ever found out a man was there at the same time she was, he’d lose his mind. My brother-in-law is awful.”
I looked closely at Mary’s ears. They weren’t pierced. Then her comment about meeting him one night recently made me remember how she’d said he’d danced at one of Delilah’s parties.
“I’m confused. I thought you said Canton Walters was a dancer at one of your sister-in-law’s Naughty and Spice parties?”
Mary lowered her gaze to the table and quietly admitted the truth. “I said that because I didn’t want you to think I killed him.”
“So he didn’t dance at any party?”
She looked up at me and shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I know it was wrong, but I didn’t want you to think I was the murderer. I’m not. He was fine when I saw him Tuesday morning. You believe me, don’t you?”
I did. I knew it may have seemed that she might be the best suspect so far, but something didn’t feel right when I thought about her killing Canton. She didn’t exhibit any anger toward him when she spoke about their time together, and I still didn’t think she could kill anyone.
“I do believe you. Now I just have to find who really killed him.”
Mary stood and took a last sip of her iced tea. “I hope you do, Poppy. He wasn’t a bad person. I think he just got himself into a life he never wanted. He told me right before he left my house that morning that he was married and he planned to ask his wife for a divorce. I don’t know if that was true or his way of absolving his guilt for what we’d done together, though.”
Left alone with my morning’s work to think about, I had to admit maybe Alex was right about Rose Walters. Maybe she had snapped that night and decided her husband had cheated one too many times.
My gut still said she wasn’t the murderer, but there didn’t seem to be anyone left but her on the list of suspects.
Chapter Seventeen
My eyes flew open as my brain tried to process what the hell was making all that banging noise downstairs. Within seconds, terror raced through my body. Was I being robbed? I grabbed my phone to dial 911, but then a familiar sound reached my ears.
No one had broken into my house. Someone was banging on my kitchen door.
Unsure who would be making a noise like that at the crack of dawn, I grabbed the baseball bat I kept in my closet and started down the stairs. What time was it? I focused my bleary eyes on my phone and saw it was just after five. Why would someone be banging on my door at so early in the morning?
My house was still dark, so I crept into the kitchen to stand next to the door and said, “Who is it? Who’s there?”
“Poppy, it’s Bethany. I need to talk to you. Please let me in.”
It was Bethany and she sounded like she’d been crying. I switched on the lights and opened the door to see her standing on my porch still dressed like she’d never gone to bed last night after going out. But why was she there at all if she’d been out all night, probably at Alex’s?
“What’s wrong?” I asked as my brain quickly switched from defense mode to confused.
“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”
Stepping back, I opened the door to let her pass. “Sure. Come in.”
She walked in, and for the first time, I saw how horrible she looked. Her mascara had settled into the lines beneath her eyes like she’d cried it off her lashes, and her makeup looked stale on
some parts of her face and was missing entirely on others.
What had happened to make her look like this?
I offered her a seat at my kitchen table and headed to the coffee maker. If I was going to be entertaining someone at this time of the day, caffeine would be needed. Stat.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked, feeling rather impotent from my offer as she sadly shook her head no.
“I didn’t know who else to talk to, Poppy. I need your help.”
“Of course. Just let me wake up a little so I’m not entirely useless here.”
In truth, I didn’t know how much I could help her with whatever the problem was that brought her to my door before sunrise. My back turned to her as I got the coffee maker what it needed to make my much needed morning drink, I tried to imagine what had happened. Had she and Alex had a fight? It seemed a little early in the relationship for them to be having fights that left her looking like she did at the moment. Bethany did have a tendency to be more emotional than most women, but even she wouldn’t have fallen into the crying act after just a few dates.
Had she been out at a club and been attacked? I turned around and spied a look to see if there was any evidence of that. She was in a cute pale blue sundress that said she had probably been on a date or at a bar, but she didn’t have bruises or cuts, so someone attacking her seemed unlikely.
By the time the last drop of coffee had fallen into my mug, I’d run through half a dozen possibilities about what may have happened and discounted them all. She’d tell me in a few seconds anyway, so I took a deep breath to prepare for what she had to say and sat down across from her at the table.
“I’m sorry that took so long. I’m really a wreck without my morning coffee.”
She sniffled and tried to smile. “I know. Alex said that a few times. He says you’re addicted to your dark roast.” As the last words left her mouth, she began to sob. “Two sugars and extra cream.”
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