Rock Around the Corpse

by Lizbeth Lipperman

  After a quick trip to the restroom where she splashed cold water on her face, she felt a little better. Debating whether to leave Brent a note or not, she made her way to the desk on his side of the bed, sat down, and turned on the table lamp. In the end she decided that letting him know she was okay was the decent thing to do, although the little voice of self-doubt in her head wondered if he’d even remember bringing her to his room after the welcoming party.

  Reaching for the hotel notepad, she scrolled a generic Thanks for a fun evening. Deena. That way, she covered all the bases, including sex or no sex.

  Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and glanced one final time at the sleeping judge before leaving when something shiny poking out from beneath the pastel blue sheet half-covering Brent caught her eye. As she inched closer, a metallic odor assailed her nostrils, causing her to wrinkle her nose and step back.

  Even from this distance she could make out a large reddish-brown stain on the sheet, and she has to force herself to move closer. Being careful not to awaken him, she pulled the cover back a little, and the scene that greeted her was enough to make her nauseous. She ran back to the bathroom and hurled, staying crouched over the toilet bowl until the dry heaves subsided. Then she gargled with the complimentary bottle of mouthwash before once again splashing cold water on her face.

  Slowly making her way back to the bed, she carefully avoided looking at his face, focusing instead on the bloody sheet. With her breathing coming faster now, she yanked it all the way off his upper torso and was horrified to see that the shiny object she’d first noticed was a pair of her own scissors, deeply embedded into his chest.

  Her breath caught in her throat. What the hell were the designing shears she’d lost the week before doing here?

  Sucking in what she hoped was a gulp of courage, she felt for a carotid pulse, but there was none, and his skin was stiff, cold, and a dusky shade of gray. Terrified now, she must have screamed but didn’t recognize the sound that came out of her mouth as her own.

  A million thoughts ran through her mind about why her scissors were protruding from Brent’s body before reality hit her like an out-of-control wrecking ball. There was only one explanation. Brent was dead, and no one else was in the room with him but her. She had no memory of anything that happened after they’d come back to his room other than the wild dream she’d experienced at one point in the middle of the night. An involuntary shudder shook her as an image of the silver-clad monster from her dreams flashed across her mind.

  She took one final look at the body and then ran to the door. Flinging it open, she stepped onto the walkway connecting the rooms before glancing back. Unable to bear the sight, she slammed the door closed, doubled over, and then let out ripping, blood curdling scream for help.

  While she waited for help, she continued to scream until she saw a tall man she recognized as the limo driver who’d taken Annie Egan to her room when she’d been injured, rushing toward her.

  “He’s dead,” was all she managed to say.

  He stared blankly at her for a moment before pushing the door open and disappearing into the room.

  The next few minutes were total confusion as the rest of the guests came running to see what the commotion was about. She burst into tears when she spied her sisters racing down the walkway toward her, towels covering their wet bathing suits. If ever she needed them, it was now.

  “Deena, what’s the matter? Are you hurt?” Lainey asked, reaching her first and grabbing her by the shoulders.

  She shook her head, no longer caring about the pain that resulted. “Brent’s dead.” She began to sob. “And I think I’m the one who killed him.”

  Maddy stepped closer and turned Deena toward her. “Don’t say another word to anyone.” She pointed to her younger sister. “Kate, go in there and see if there’s anything you can do. Lainey, you take Deena in the grassy area and find a chair for her. Whatever you do, don’t let her talk to a soul, not even Haley. I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  *****

  Maddy stood just inside the door and surveyed the room for any signs of a struggle or anything out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed unusual, unless you counted the obvious lump in the bed where a dead body lay. She’d seen enough deceased people on the job to know that the gray coloring on Brent’s face wasn’t a good sign.

  Kate rushed to the bedside, and after a few minutes, looked up and shook her head. The only other person in the room was a tall gentleman in workout clothes who was standing next to Kate. Maddy knew he was someone she’d seen at the party the night before, but she couldn’t remember exactly who he was.

  “Sir, can you stand over here by me away from the bed?” she asked. “This room may very well be a crime scene, and we’ll need to preserve it until the police get here.”

  Towering over Kate by about a foot, the man stared at Maddy for a moment before walking toward her as instructed. Extending his hand, he said, “Vince Hogan. I own Hogan Limo Service in downtown Oklahoma City. Maybe I can be of some assistance here since I have a little experience in police procedures.”

  Maddy eyed him suspiciously, thinking that nobody got the upper arms and perfectly tapered waist that this guy had without working at it. She guessed his police experience was probably working security at a mall somewhere. Or better yet—given his dark hair and dark eyes that seemed to bore right through her, along with perfectly shaped lips that almost looked to be tipped in a slight smile—the guy was probably an actor who’d played a cop in a commercial at some point in his career.

  After scolding herself for being so judgmental, she shook his hand. “Maddy Castillo. I’m a police officer in Vineyard, Texas.” Then to make up for her earlier snarky thoughts, she decided to play nice. Even if he was a mall cop, he would’ve had to have had some formal training in elementary law enforcement. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can see that this room isn’t contaminated before the crime scene guys can process it.” Satisfied that she’d made it up to him, she walked to the bed to get her first up-close look at the dead guy. “Can you tell if the scissors killed him?” she asked her sister.

  “Without an official autopsy I can’t know for sure, but from the entry point of the blades and the amount of blood that soaked the bed, my guess would be a ruptured aorta.” Kate backed up a few steps to allow Maddy to get closer. “Lividity puts the time of death around eight to ten hours ago. Again, that’s just a guess. When the medical examiner gets here, he’ll be able to give us a more accurate timeline.”

  “The last time I saw Kershaw, he was leaving the party with the interior decorator,” Vince said. Somehow, he’d inched his way back to the bedside and was now standing directly behind Maddy.

  “That would be our sister Deena,” Kate said as Maddy flashed a look that instantly shut her up.

  Maddy turned her attention to the limo driver. “Vince, can you go down to the registration desk and call the local police on the satellite phone to report this?” When he nodded, Maddy continued, “And make sure Haley is notified so she can decide how to handle the guests. With Deena screaming like she did, I’m sure everyone’s aware that something bad has happened. Haley will need to figure a way to keep them calm.”

  Turning on his heels, he rushed out of the room. Before the door closed, Maddy caught a glimpse of her younger sister, who was standing outside the door and staring into the room. So much for Lainey taking Deena away from the crowd and any questions. The terror on Deena’s face brought more questions about what exactly had her sister gotten herself into. Had things gone so terribly wrong last night that Deena had felt compelled to drive the scissors into the man she’d been so obviously infatuated with only hours before? Had the creep tried to hurt her, and she’d lashed out to protect herself?

  She shook her head, trying to shove those thoughts out of her mind. If Colt were here, he’d know what to do—what to say. He’d definitely be her first call as soon as she could get to a phone. The defense lawyer from the neighborin
g city of Keller, who was feared by every cop in the county, would be the second.

  A glimpse at the dresser where two half-filled glasses of some kind of liquor was cause for concern. Deena had never been a big drinker, and she’d had more than her fair share of bubbly at the dinner. The few times she’d seen her more than tipsy, it hadn’t been pretty.

  Just then the door burst open and Haley ran in, her face scrunched in horror. “Oh my God. Is he really dead?”

  Maddy nodded. “We need to keep everyone out of this room until the police get here. You’ll have to talk to your guests without causing any more panic than there already is. Tell them the police are on their way, and they should be prepared to answer questions.”

  “Did Deena kill him?”

  Hearing someone verbalize what she had thought only moments before surprised Maddy, and she looked away. “Right now, we have no idea what happened. There’s no use speculating until the officers can sort things out.”

  Maddy lowered her head so that Haley couldn’t read her face. If Deena had indeed killed Kershaw, she wasn’t about to incriminate her any further by agreeing with the spa owner. She and her sisters would do whatever was necessary to help their sibling out of this jam no matter what had happened in this room. The Keller lawyer wouldn’t come cheap, but they’d do what had to be done—refinance houses, break into their 401Ks. It was what they always did when one of them was in trouble.

  And right now, Deena was definitely in trouble.

  *****

  Vince Hogan made eye contact with Deena Rodriguez as he exited the room. He’d noticed the interior decorator last night at the party, wondering how a classy woman like her could fall for an SOB like Brent Kershaw. As long as he lived, he’d never understand the guy’s appeal.

  As the woman begged with her eyes for some good news, he could only shake his head. He forced himself to turn and walk away when he saw tears forming in her eyes. He wished he could comfort her somehow but knew there was nothing he could say that would make this all go away. She didn’t look like a killer, but that’s exactly what the Oklahoma cops would think when they arrived. After all, by her own sister’s medical opinion, it had been the scissors that had killed the man. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that they probably belonged to the woman who had spent many weeks designing the interior of the spa. Knowing Kershaw, the bastard had probably hurt her in some way, and if he hadn’t, he would’ve eventually. Once a snake, always a snake. Even Kershaw’s own brother, an easygoing banker in Oklahoma City, despised him.

  When Vince rounded the corner, he picked up his pace. The sooner the local cops got there and questioned the guests, the faster they could all get back to their lives and forget about what had happened there today. His first call after notifying the police would be to his office to get the ball rolling on sending the other limos back to the spa. His employees wouldn’t be thrilled about that since they’d assumed their weekend was free until Sunday night.

  At the registration desk he saw the curly-haired, middle-aged clerk bent over something, his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. Vince stood patiently while the man continued to work on the crossword puzzle, oblivious to the fact that someone was waiting. Tempted to jerk the guy out of the chair to get his attention, Vince gave him one last chance and cleared his throat.

  The man looked up, obviously annoyed at being disturbed. “Can I help you?”

  “I need to use the satellite phone.”

  The clerk, whose name badge read WILIAM PEABODY shook his head. “You’ll need authorization from Ms. Rockford.”

  “She’s the one who sent me down here. I need to call the Oklahoma City Police Department immediately.”

  “I’ll still need to hear it from her.”

  Vince bit his lower lip to keep from grabbing the man by the front of his shirt. “Look, Peabody, there’s a dead man in Room 3. Either you give me that phone now, or I’ll make sure the police charge you with obstruction of justice when they finally do get here.”

  “Brent Kershaw’s dead?”

  Vince nodded, taking a quick calming breath. Patience had never been his strongest suit, and this guy was getting on his last nerve. “Yes. The phone?”

  Peabody jumped from the chair and raced to the back room. Vince could see him hunched over the floor safe and smiled to himself. Most people used a safe for things like money and jewelry. Obviously, Haley Rockford thought it was so important to keep her guests from outside distractions that she kept the satellite phone under lock and key.

  After a few minutes, he couldn’t stand it any longer and hollered, “What’s the holdup, Peabody?”

  The clerk stood and slowly sauntered back to the desk, a confused expression covering his face. “They’re gone.”

  “What’s gone?” Vince nailed him with his best intimidation face, hoping to send a message that he wasn’t interested in playing guessing games.

  “The phones. We keep two of them in the safe. Both are missing.”

  “Are you sure? Go back and take another look,” he demanded. “And bring me all the cell phones and tablets you confiscated from the guests.” Even as he said it, he knew that probably wouldn’t be helpful since there was no signal this far away from the towers. His only hope was that he could try to send a text to his office and instruct them to call the cops.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, something he always did when he was nervous. He was beginning to get an uncomfortable feeling in his gut about all this, as his eyes followed Peabody back to the desk. Even before the man opened his mouth, Vince knew he wasn’t going to like what the clerk had to say.

  “They’re all missing.” He lowered his head. “I don’t understand it. Haley and I are the only ones who know the combination to the safe.”

  Vince thought for a moment, his stomach now beginning to churn. This was definitely not good news. If the classy interior decorator had killed Kershaw, there was a good possibility it might not have been spur of the moment or self-defense like he’d imagined. But even as his mind went there, he knew that Deena Rodriguez probably wasn’t the cold-blooded killer who’d deep-sixed the scissors into Kershaw’s chest.

  After making a split decision, he addressed the clerk. “Run out to Room 3 and tell Ms. Rockford about the missing phones.” He started to walk toward the door before he remembered one last thing. “And make sure she’s the only one you talk to. Tell her I’m taking the limo to find a phone and call the police. Hopefully, it will only take forty minutes or so to the nearest town, so she can expect me back in two hours with help in tow.”

  Vince waited until the clerk came out from behind the desk and was on his way to deliver the message before he walked out of the lobby and into the parking lot. His stretch limo was parked in the back row, and he hurried toward it.

  Three quarters of the way there, the ball of fire in his gut exploded. Even from a distance, he could see that something was terribly wrong, and a sudden sense of foreboding crawled up his spine. He did a quick check of both sides of the vehicle. What the… All four of his tires were slashed. Whoever had killed Kershaw and stolen the phones had carried out a very detailed plan to make certain there would be no way for them to communicate with the outside world.

  For the first time, he thought about the safety of all the guests, including himself, as the cold reality covered him with a blanket of fear. There was a killer walking among them who had meticulously isolated them from any chance of getting help. With no weapons to defend themselves, they were in for a long weekend.

  Chapter Five

  Gary Wharton bolted upright in bed when he heard what could only be described as an agonizing screech. His first thought was that there was an animal nearby, either hurt or in attack mode, and he cursed under his breath because he had nothing he could use to protect himself. The spa owner had adamantly forbidden any weapons at the resort, even while they were renovating.

  Though this place was no longer a hunting lodge, it sat in t
he middle of a dense woodland area, so it had to be surrounded by creatures large and small who now roamed free from predators with guns. He had no idea what had made the God-awful sound, but whatever it was would be a lot less menacing if he had his semi-automatic right now.

  No longer hearing the noise, he stole a glance at the clock on the nightstand. Christ! It was already ten, but he wasn’t ready to take on the world just yet—or more specifically, to take on Brent Kershaw. Try as he might, he couldn’t quit thinking about the man’s warning that he fully intended to go over the invoices with a fine tooth comb today. Although Gary had gotten creative to hide the discrepancies as best he could, a smart man like Kershaw would have no problem seeing right through the bogus receipts.

  The good news was that he wouldn’t be able to prove anything while they were out here in the middle of nowhere, but as soon as they were back in the real world, AKA Oklahoma City, he knew the Dallas judge would stop at nothing to track down the supply vendors. Once he had a look at the invoices—or more to the point, the forgeries—there would be hell to pay.

  But he’d had no choice. When his bookie Digarmo and his sidekick had paid him a visit two months ago and threatened to do serious bodily harm if he didn’t cough up the money he owed by the end of the week, he’d been desperate. The wood deal for the spa flooring had just seemed to drop into his lap right when he thought life as he knew it would never be the same. How was he supposed to know the flooring was part of an illegal shipment smuggled in from China and contained more asbestos than legally allowed? The guy who’d sold it to him only said it was bargain-priced because it had been stolen from one of the containers on the dock when it arrived in Galveston and they had to get rid of it in a hurry. Nothing was ever mentioned about the level of asbestos or the degree of inferior quality.