The sound of high-pitched giggles echoed down the hallway, warning them of the approach of a trio of little girls. Wet hair plastered their skulls, and their swimsuit-clad bodies were wrapped in thin white towels with the Executive Inn monogram stamped on one edge. One of the girls whispered into the ear of another as they passed, and the two burst into peals of laughter.
Liz scowled after them. “If you ask me, I’d say there’s a bigger chance the murder has something to do with that stupid beauty pageant than the barbecue contest. Kids can be vicious, you know.” She extracted one of the cards and slid it through the slot on the door.
Caitlin followed, giving Jazzy a worried look. Jazzy stared after the kids. They looked to be around twelve. Probably three of the contestants she’d judge tomorrow. A new shudder rippled through her. She hated beauty pageants.
Liz’s voice continued from inside the room. “And even if his death is related to the barbecue contest, I’m from out of town. Nobody has any reason to kill me. Wow. Would you look at this place?”
Jazzy brushed away the lingering uneasiness and followed her friends. She came to a stop inside the door. “‘Wow’ is right.”
The room was twice the size of their previous one, and it wasn’t even the bedroom. When Bradley said they would have a suite, Jazzy assumed that meant they’d get a room with a kitchenette. But this was a true suite. The great room in which she stood boasted a full kitchen to her right, a glass dining table with four chairs and a comfortable living room area. The sofa and love seat were angled to face a large-screen television set. The curtains had been pulled back from a sliding glass door, and through the glass Jazzy glimpsed sunlight glittering on the rippled surface of the Kentucky River.
Caitlin peeked through an open doorway on the other side of a full-size refrigerator. “There’s another TV in here. Still only two beds, though.”
Liz dropped onto the sofa. “That’s okay. I think this thing folds out. I don’t mind sleeping here. Besides, I didn’t tell you something.” She gave them each a sheepish grin. “I snore. You two might want to close the door.”
That settled, they began investigating their suite. Jazzy was bent over, checking out the lower kitchen cabinets, which were spotless, when a loud knock sounded on the door. She jumped upright.
Caitlin laughed. “Relax. It’s probably our luggage.”
Better safe than sorry with a killer on the loose, Jazzy thought as she tiptoed to the door and peeked through the peephole. Relief softened her tense muscles at the telescopic image of Bradley. She unlocked the dead bolt and swung the door open.
A uniformed police officer stood beside the hotel manager. Correction. Not a police officer. A silver pin over his left pocket proclaimed him to be Sheriff Sam Maguire.
“Miss Delaney,” Bradley began, but the sheriff cut him off.
“You’re the one who found the murder victim.” His brusque statement was not a question, but Jazzy nodded anyway. “I want to talk to you.”
He elbowed his way around Bradley and brushed past Jazzy into the room without being asked. Bradley caught her with a glance and lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. Then he gestured toward a cart piled with their luggage.
“May I come in?” he asked deliberately.
“Of course.” Jazzy backed up and held the door open as he wheeled the cart past her. He ignored the sheriff and headed for the bedroom.
“I hope everything is to your liking,” he called over his shoulder.
Jazzy followed him as Caitlin and Liz introduced themselves to the sheriff. “This is a terrific suite. Thank you so much for letting us use it.”
Bradley hefted Caitlin’s duffel bag off the cart and tossed it onto the first bed. Hiding a wince, Jazzy hurried to grab her violin case before he could treat it with similar disregard.
“I finally got in touch with Mr. Harris an hour ago. He was horrified, of course, and told me to do whatever I can to make you comfortable for your entire stay. Whatever you want is on the house.” Liz’s suitcase landed beside Caitlin’s bag with a bounce, then Bradley extracted a small card from his breast pocket. “Just show this and you’ll be taken care of anywhere in the hotel. The restaurant. The business center. There’s a nice lounge in the west corner of the lobby if you’d care for a cocktail before dinner.”
Jazzy took the card, but shook her head with a smile. “Thanks, but we don’t drink.”
“Oh.” He seemed momentarily nonplussed. Then his face cleared. “They make a mean Shirley Temple down there.”
She laughed. “Please tell Mr. Harris we appreciate everything.”
He hefted the last suitcase onto the bed. “Call me if you need anything.” His glance slid to the door. “And don’t let Buford Pusser in there rattle you.”
Working hard to hide her smile, Jazzy joined the others as Bradley let himself out. A glance at Sheriff Maguire’s stern face chased away all remnants of the smile.
“Shall we sit down?” The sheriff pulled a padded swivel chair out from the table.
Jazzy slid into the one across from him, Liz and Caitlin taking the other two. Sheriff Maguire leaned against the seat back and folded his arms across his chest.
“Tell me what happened. All of it. From the beginning.”
Irritation twitched Jazzy’s frazzled nerves. She’d told this story four times to the deputies, and then had written out a statement and signed it. Did they think she was lying? Maybe they were trying to trip her up.
Any protest she might have made faded before the piercing gaze leveled across the table at her. She rubbed sweaty palms on her jeans, then stopped when the sheriff’s eyes lowered to watch her hands through the glass tabletop.
For the fifth time that day, Jazzy recounted how Derrick had sent an email three months ago saying he’d seen in her online profile that she played violin in a classical ensemble. She described their brief email discussion establishing the terms of the job for his sister’s wedding. As she did, she realized that Sheriff Maguire probably knew all about that part, since his son was the groom. Then she outlined every detail she could remember from the time they pulled up to the front doors of the Executive Inn until she opened the shower curtain.
At least Sheriff Maguire listened without interrupting. Those two deputies hadn’t let her get a sentence out without a question or two. When she finished, he sat watching her in silence, tapping his pursed lips with an index finger. Jazzy shifted her position on the cushioned seat. The man’s stare put her in mind of spotlights and rubber hoses.
Caitlin cleared her throat, drawing his attention away from Jazzy. “Do you have any idea why someone might have killed that poor man?”
Liz interrupted before he could answer. “What she really wants to know is if you think we’re in any danger since we’re taking his place as judges in this festival thing.”
One of the sheriff’s eyebrows rose as he shifted his gaze to Liz. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“It happened just after we came back from the rehearsal,” Jazzy told him. “The hotel manager said they needed three judges, and since there are three of us, it seemed like a good solution.”
She tried to filter the anxiety out of her voice, but in the past twenty minutes she’d begun to wonder if there was a way to get out of their commitment. She glanced at Liz, the new barbecue judge. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut down in the lobby? If anything happened to either of her friends, Jazzy wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
Liz caught the glance and rolled her eyes. “I told her there was nothing to worry about. It probably wasn’t even related to the barbecue contest.”
“Oh, I think it is.” The sheriff moved his finger-tapping to the arm of the chair. “This festival holds a lot of weight around these parts. The team that takes top honors in the barbecue competition wins bragging rights for a whole year, and they sure exercise them. Same with the burgoo contest. But I can’t see why you’d be in any danger. I’m betting this is a local job. Wouldn’t surprise me if somebody t
ried to buy Kirkland’s vote and things turned bad. We’re questioning the other judges to see if any of them have had any offers.”
Jazzy shook her head. “But why would Mr. Kirkland be in a room up on the fourth floor? His radio station is down in the lobby.”
Sheriff Maguire shrugged. “We don’t know that he was. Maybe the body was moved there.”
Jazzy’s teeth clamped together. That didn’t make sense. Why would someone carry a grown man’s body up to the fourth floor? It was too risky—they could have been spotted.
“Have you questioned the hotel staff? Maybe someone saw something suspicious. Housekeeping, for instance. When was the last time they cleaned that room?” She tilted her forehead toward him. “The sheets on that bed smelled a little stale.”
“Now see here, missy.” Jazzy bristled at the condescending title, but the sheriff didn’t seem to notice. His fingers clutched the edge of the glass table as he pushed himself back. “You leave the investigating to us. We know what we’re doing.” He got to his feet and leaned forward on his hands, glancing toward Liz. “You girls are gonna be just fine. I’ve got two men stationed up on the fourth floor outside that room, making sure nobody touches anything before the lab boys from over at state police headquarters get here. That’ll be hours yet. My deputies ain’t going nowhere before sunup. Nobody’s gonna mess with you with two deputies right here in the hotel.”
Jazzy cast a quick glance toward Liz before she said, “Maybe we should have one outside our door, too.”
Liz heaved a sigh. “That’s really not necessary,” she told the sheriff.
He came around the table and gave a paternal pat to Jazzy’s shoulder. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll tell my boys to keep an ear open in this direction.”
If there was anything worse than being afraid, it was being patronized. Jazzy gritted her teeth and rose to follow him to the door. He stepped through and then turned to face her.
“You be sure and let me know if somebody wants to talk to you about that barbecue contest, hear?”
An uneasy lump rose up to clog Jazzy’s throat. Wordlessly, she nodded. She closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolt with a vicious twist.
SIX
The rehearsal dinner was well underway when Derrick finally saw Sheriff Maguire slip into the room and edge his way toward the head table. Derrick noticed the disapproving set to Mrs. Maguire’s jaw as her husband slid into the empty chair beside her. At least the guy had found the time to exchange his uniform for a suit. That ought to gain him a few points with the missus.
“Sorry I’m late.” The sheriff nodded at his son and Chelsea. “Got tied up over at the hotel questioning the witnesses.”
“It’s okay, Dad. We understand.” Quinn poked him with an elbow and grinned. “To make it up to us, we’ll let you give a toast to your new daughter-in-law at the reception tomorrow.”
“That will be my pleasure.”
Beside Derrick, Mom set down her iced-tea and leaned toward him. Worry deepened the creases between her hazel eyes as she spoke in a whisper. “It’s just terrible what happened to that Kirkland boy. His mother must be devastated.”
Ever since Dad had passed away, Mom felt death keenly, even when it happened to someone she didn’t know.
Derrick covered her hand with his. “Don’t think about it. Tonight is all about the bride and the groom.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “And the beautiful mother of the bride.”
A blush identical to her daughter’s colored her cheeks, and she pulled her hand away. “Oh, you!” But she dimpled as she smiled, and Derrick was glad he’d managed to get her mind off of her dark thoughts.
As Mom turned away to say something to Chelsea, Derrick glanced at his watch. It had been almost two hours since he’d left the Executive Inn. Hopefully Jazzy and her friends were settling in for a peaceful night.
Caitlin shuffled from the bathroom past Jazzy’s bed in fuzzy slippers. “Will it bother you if I turn on the television? I could go out and watch the big one with Liz for a while if you want to go to sleep now.”
Propped against the headboard on two pillows, Jazzy flipped through the latest issue of Music & Vision. She shook her head. Won’t bother me. I have a timer on my stereo system at home so I can fall asleep to music.”
Of course, the soothing strains of Pachelbel were far more conducive to sleep than barking dogs on Animal Cops. Jazzy didn’t say anything, though. Friendships were all about being tolerant of one another, especially when traveling.
She closed her magazine and turned off the lamp mounted on the wall between the two beds. The sheets smelled good as she slid between them, like her favorite brand of fabric softener. She rolled onto her side, away from the flickering lights of the television screen. The delicious dinner delivered by room service sat comfortably in her tummy. A tide of drowsiness washed across the shores of her mind. She closed her eyes and let her worries drift out of reach. The sheriff wasn’t worried. Liz wasn’t worried. Why should she be? She welcomed slumber as it crept gently over her.
Sometime later, a sound intruded on her dream. Or was it part of her dream? Jazzy couldn’t tell, but the foggy tendrils of sleep fell slowly away and she became aware of her surroundings. The comforting weight of the bedspread. The soft cotton sheets. The quiet snuffle of Caitlin’s breathing in the next bed. The distant sound of the television set from the other room. She didn’t remember when Caitlin had turned off the TV in their room, but Liz had apparently fallen asleep with hers on. Jazzy vaguely remembered hearing her snoring earlier, the sound muted through the closed door.
Liz wasn’t snoring at the moment. Maybe that’s what had awakened Jazzy. Not a sound, but the cessation of a sound to which she’d grown accustomed. She lay there, slumber flirting with her thoughts, lulling them back into the dream she’d left too early. A few moments passed, and Liz’s snore started again. Her eyes closed, Jazzy extended an arm from the shelter of the blanket and fumbled for the extra pillow. She laid it across her head as a sound buffer for her ear, then relaxed even more deeply into the mattress. Now, what was that dream …
A scream pierced the night. Jazzy jerked upright. Beside her, Caitlin scrambled out of bed and raced toward the door. Jazzy leaped from beneath the blanket, one step behind her. They dashed through the doorway.
Something moved on the patio. She saw a dark silhouette against the moonlight shining on the river. An instant later it was gone. The sliding glass door stood open. A cold breeze laden with the scent of the river invaded the room.
Jazzy flipped the wall switch. Liz sat in the center of her bed, gasping, her hands clutching her throat. Panic filled her wide eyes.
“He tried to strangle me!”
A crazy numbness seemed to have attacked Jazzy’s feet. They refused to move. Horror crept up her spine on prickly legs.
Caitlin ran to the bed and threw her arms around Liz. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” She twisted her head to look at Jazzy without letting go of Liz. “Call 9-1-1,” she ordered.
Nodding, Jazzy stepped toward the desk. Hand trembling, she reached for the receiver. One part of her brain registered the fact that papers lay strewn across the surface of the desk. Sheet music, and the advertisement brochures they’d put together about their trio. The intruder must have dumped the contents of their music portfolios. They’d set them on the desk in readiness for the wedding tomorrow.
Then her gaze fell on something else resting on the desk. Something that had not been there before.
A bottle of barbecue sauce.
Invisible steel bands tightened around Jazzy’s chest.
SEVEN
Jazzy and Caitlin huddled in a corner, hands clasped for comfort. Jazzy watched as a female EMT examined Liz’s neck. The woman’s male partner stood at the foot of the sofa bed, and a uniformed deputy watched the proceedings from a position near the door.
“I’m fine, really. I don’t need to go to the hospital.” The surly cellist pushed the woma
n’s hands away and leaned against the back cushion of the fold-out couch. “He scared me more than anything.”
The deputy standing nearby perked up. “He? You’re sure it was a man who attacked you?”
“Well …” Liz screwed up her face, thinking. “I think it was a man. I mean, I can’t be positive. The room was dark and he wore some sort of mask. I woke to find him looming over me.” Her hands hovered around her throat in an unconscious gesture, a haunted expression darkening her features. “He had really strong hands.”
Guilt rose up in Jazzy’s throat like bile. She squeezed Caitlin’s fingers. This was her fault. If she hadn’t been trying to prove to Derrick that she couldn’t be bossed around, Liz wouldn’t have been attacked.
An authoritative knock sounded on the door. When the deputy opened it, Jazzy wasn’t surprised to see Sheriff Maguire stride into the room. Instead of the crisp uniform he had worn earlier, he’d thrown on a pair of gray trousers and a dark T-shirt with a yellow sheriff’s star emblazoned on the breast pocket.
He stopped in the center of the room and let his gaze circle the occupants. It came to rest on the deputy. “What’s the situation here?”
Anger flared in Jazzy, fueled by regret for her own mistake. Her guilt needed an outlet or she feared she might collapse under the weight. A likely target had just made himself available.
She dropped Caitlin’s hand and took a step forward. “I’ll tell you the ‘situation.’ You said we were safe, that we didn’t need a guard. And look what happened!”
The sheriff turned a calm look her way. She stood rigid, fists clenching and unclenching, waiting for him to say something.
Instead, he turned back to the deputy. “You were saying?”
Jazzy felt Caitlin’s hand on her arm. But the gentle touch failed to soothe her anger.
With a nervous gulp and a quick glance in her direction, the deputy answered his boss’s question. “An intruder gained access through the patio door. Popped the lock, probably with a crowbar. The metal’s bent. Slipped into the room real quiet-like, right past Miss Carmichael asleep there.” He dipped his forehead toward the sofa bed. “Went through that suitcase and dumped that purse out. Shuffled through some papers. Left that.” He nodded toward the bottle of sauce on the desk.
Murder in D Minor Boxed Set Page 5