Letters announcing the location of the Executive Café blazed in red neon over the entrance to the restaurant. Jazzy stepped through, the deputy right behind her. Apparently they were the first guests of the morning. The brown-topped tables were all empty, but two apron-clad servers stood chatting near a drink station at the opposite end of the restaurant. A third caught a glimpse of them and approached the hostess stand.
“Will that be two for breakfast?” As she spoke, she picked up two plastic-coated menus.
“No, we’re just here for coffee.” Jazzy smiled at the woman. “Is it ready yet?”
“Just finished brewing.” She returned the menus to the stack. “Will that be to go?”
Jazzy glanced at Frank. Liz and Caitlin weren’t up yet, but if Matt needed a cup of coffee, the other two deputies would probably appreciate one, too. “Four large ones.”
The woman scurried off toward the back of the restaurant. Minutes later she returned with four tall cardboard coffee cups on a tray along with a handful of condiments and wooden stir sticks. The strong odor of coffee tantalized Jazzy’s nose as she approached.
“We’re out of lids. Sorry.”
She set the tray on the checkout counter and stepped around to the cash register.
“Oh, here.” Jazzy held out Bradley’s complimentary card. While the woman examined it, Jazzy pulled a dollar tip out of her other pocket and handed it over. “Thanks so much.”
She picked up the tray and stepped through the exit into the lobby. Frank followed, his eyes darting this way and that. Honestly, it was creepy the way he hovered behind her without speaking. If he put on some dark sunglasses he’d look sort of like a gangster. Maybe Frank was rehearsing for his next career, a job with the secret service.
Jazzy started to head toward their suite, but just then Bradley came through a door behind the front desk. He wore no tie, and even across the lobby Jazzy could see that he looked frazzled.
She wanted to talk to him, find out what he knew about the break-in last night. But if he knew anything, he wasn’t likely to talk freely in front of her bodyguard.
Jazzy thrust the coffee-laden tray toward Frank. “Deputy, would you mind taking this back to your partners? I want to talk to the manager for a minute.”
A frown creased his face, but Jazzy countered it with a confident smile. “I’m going right over there to the front desk. Then I’m coming straight back to the room. I won’t leave the lobby—I promise. And when I turn that corner toward our room, you’ll be able to see me from your position at the other end of the hall. I’ll be fine.”
She cut off any argument he might have made by shoving the tray toward his chest. His hands came up automatically. She grabbed one of the cups and held it up in a silent toast as she backed away.
Bradley caught sight of her as she crossed the lobby. He rushed through the half door at the end of the front desk and raced toward her, hands extended.
“Oh, Miss Delaney, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. No, how horrified I am.” For a moment Jazzy thought he might grab her for a hug. Instead he seized her free hand and squeezed. “Are you and the other ladies all right?”
“We’re fine,” Jazzy assured him. “Liz was a little shook up, as you can imagine.”
“No, I can’t even begin to imagine the terror that poor girl must have felt. Just think. Waking up to find someone’s hands at your throat.” He clutched his own throat with both hands and swallowed noisily.
A thread of suspicion wove its way through Jazzy. How did he know the details of what had happened? She brought her coffee cup to her lips to hide her expression behind the steam rising from the hot liquid. Would the police have told him specifics of the attack?
“So I guess the sheriff told you all about it,” she said in a casual tone.
He gave an expansive shudder. “They made the night clerk call me to come in a little after three. When I got here they grilled me for over two hours. Just left about thirty minutes ago with all the security recordings from the past month.” He glanced around the lobby and lowered his voice. “What was left of them.”
Okay, so details of the attack may have come out naturally as the sheriff questioned Bradley. Jazzy relaxed a fraction, then the implication of his words sank in. “Were some of the recordings missing?”
Misery suffused his face as he nodded. “Friday and Saturday from last week. We have the recording from each day on a disk, and we store them in the manager’s office. I’ve been trying to convince Mr. Harris that we need to upgrade our equipment, but this hotel is barely paying for itself as it is.” The glance that circled the lobby held a touch of bitterness. “Why should he sink money into this place when he has much nicer and more profitable hotels in big cities like Chicago?”
Jazzy sipped at the strong coffee. Two days’ worth of security tapes missing. “Who has access to your office?”
“A handful of hotel employees.” Bradley’s chin came up. “All of them trustworthy. There’s a key in a drawer behind the front desk, in case someone needs to get in there in my absence. I keep another key on my personal key ring.” His shoulders sagged. “I can’t imagine what Mr. Harris is going to say about this.”
An idea occurred to Jazzy. Bradley said Friday and Saturday were missing. She drew an excited breath. “What about last night’s recordings? Maybe you recorded the guy breaking through the patio door in our suite.”
Bradley shook his head. “We don’t have any external cameras. Or any internal cameras, either, except that one.” He nodded toward a camera suspended from the ceiling above the front desk. “It records activity at the check-in desk, and the range goes a little beyond the counter into the lobby.” He grimaced. “I told you we needed new equipment.”
Jazzy’s excitement deflated. “I guess the intruder didn’t walk in front of the camera before he came around back and broke in.”
Bradley shook his head. “I’m sure he didn’t. The night clerk said it was quiet all night.” One side of his lips twitched upward. “The good news is that yesterday’s disk was still there. The police are going to compare it to the pictures you ladies took and see if they can identify anyone suspicious who shows up in both.”
The elevator doors opened and a few early risers made their way toward the restaurant. Jazzy noticed a couple descending the stairs and a woman hovering in front of the festival event marquee. The guests of the Executive Inn were beginning to stir. Through the glass front doors, she saw that the sky above the buildings across the street had begun to lighten, revealing a few early-morning clouds. She had forgotten to grab her watch, but it must be after six-thirty. Liz and Caitlin might be awake by now. She’d better get another couple of coffees.
She smiled at Bradley. “I’m sure you have a lot going on, so I’ll let you get back to work.”
“You can’t imagine. The first official day of the festival.” He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated gesture. “This place will be crazy for the next three days.” His brow creased. “I don’t suppose Miss Carmichael is feeling up to judging the barbecue competition.” He placed a hand on her arm and rushed on. “Not that anyone would blame her, of course. I just need to know so I can try to scare up a replacement before the meeting at noon.”
“Actually, we talked about that last night. We’re prepared to honor our commitments, provided Sheriff Maguire can guarantee our safety for another night here.”
Bradley winced, then acknowledged the validity of her concern with a nod. “I understand. I just wish I could move you to another room. But we’re completely full, except for the one …” His head jerked toward the back wing where their first room was located.
Jazzy shuddered. “That’s all right. We’re hoping when word gets out that Sheriff Maguire has our camera, the killer will realize we don’t know anything and he’ll leave us alone. Until then, as long as that outside door can be secured and Sheriff Maguire will give us a guard, we’ll be safe.”
He grasped her free hand. “I’m beyond grateful,
Miss Delaney. You and your friends are true lifesavers.”
Bradley returned to the front desk, and Jazzy headed for the restaurant. Lifesavers, he called them. Well, Jazzy prayed that was true. Beginning with their own.
TEN
As Jazzy neared the restaurant entrance, someone rushed toward her.
“Miss Delaney!”
A tall woman with broad shoulders planted herself in Jazzy’s path. Surprised to hear her name from a stranger, Jazzy looked up into the broad face that towered over hers. Her heart plummeted: it was the woman who had pitched a fit over her room at check-in yesterday.
“Did I hear that man call you Miss Delaney?”
The intensity in the eyes that bored into hers made Jazzy want to deny it. Had the woman been eavesdropping on her conversation with Bradley? How long had she been standing near that marquee before Jazzy noticed her? The cardboard cup in Jazzy’s hand threatened to collapse as her grip tightened. She gave a cautious nod.
“Then you’re the new judge for the Little Princess Pageant this afternoon.”
It was a statement not requiring an answer. Nor did the woman give her time for one. Jazzy found her hand caught in the confines of a fist twice the size of her own.
“I’m Irene Baldwin. My girl Heidi is the next Little Princess.” She did not shake Jazzy’s hand, but clenched it in a grip as unbreakable as the gaze that imprisoned Jazzy’s eyes.
“Uh, well, I—” Jazzy stammered.
Irene cut her off. “Heidi’s twelve, so this is her last year before Miss Bar-B-Q Teen.” Her voice held more gravel than a country road. “Ain’t nobody worked harder for it than my girl. Twirls that baton so fast you can’t hardly see nothing but a flash of silver.” She pronounced it bat-on. “She can do fire, too, ’cept’n’ they won’t let her here.”
Jazzy was accustomed to looking up at people, but Irene towered an intimidating head and a half over her. “I look forward to seeing her perform.” She tugged at her hand, hoping the woman would take the hint and let go.
Instead, the grip tightened. Jazzy winced as her college class ring cut into her finger.
“I nearly whooped when I heard we was getting a out-of-town judge. ’Bout time they seen what’s been going on. Crooked, that’s what they were last year. And the year before. That guy who done gone and got himself kilt was the worst.”
“Mr. Kirkland?”
Irene’s eyelids narrowed. “His vote was for sale, everybody knowed it. But me and Ralph, we’re just plain old farm folk. We don’t have a lot.”
Jazzy finally managed to extract her hand. Her thumb rubbed the indentation the ring had made. “I don’t understand why someone would want the Little Princess title badly enough to buy a vote. Is there a big cash prize that goes with the crown?”
Judging by Irene’s clean but worn jeans and shirt, a cash award would come in handy in the Baldwin household.
“Nah, nothing like that.” She lowered her voice and glanced around the lobby. “This here’s a small town, but we got some folks who think they’re big stuff. They don’t allow no room for someone else to step into their spotlight, even for a minute.”
“So it’s a matter of pride.”
A smirk twisted Irene’s lips. “And you know what they say about pride going before a fall. I guess that Josh Kirkland fell pretty hard, didn’t he?”
An icy shiver dropped Jazzy’s core a couple of degrees. She couldn’t imagine speaking with such venom about a murder victim. Even if she didn’t like him.
“Some of them girls been given everything they wanted from the time they first drew breath. They wear fancy clothes and take their dancing lessons and all. One day they’ll drive shiny cars and go off to big colleges.” Irene stared at a point beyond Jazzy’s head, envy glinting in her eyes. Then she doused it and looked down. “My girl Heidi, she’s pretty and smart, and she’s got as much talent as all of them others put together. But we don’t have no money for college. She needs a break. If she wins—” Her jaw firmed. “When she wins, we’re going up to Louisville and sign her up with a modeling agency. Too much money, Ralph says, but they told me they’ll take their cut out of her earnings when she gets commercials and the like. But only if she’s got a good résumé.” She pronounced the word as though it were in a foreign language.
The importance of a pageant win for this woman’s daughter became clear to Jazzy. “And if Heidi can put the title of Little Princess on her résumé, she’ll have a better chance of signing with that agency.”
Irene nodded. “My girl deserves a better life than slaving away sunup to sundown on some old farm. And I aim to see she gets it.”
She caught Jazzy in an unflinching gaze that cut bloodlessly to the bone. Her mouth dry, Jazzy had no trouble believing that Irene Baldwin would eliminate anything that stood in the way of her plans for her daughter.
Even a contest judge?
Her heart pounding, Jazzy couldn’t help noticing the woman’s size again. Broad, sturdy shoulders. Well-muscled arms. Jazzy’s thumb rubbed almost absently across the fingers that had been crushed in those man-sized hands. Her pulse pounded like an overwound clock. Why had she sent that deputy back to the room ahead of her?
A familiar voice sliced through the tension between them.
“Jazzy!”
Jazzy’s knees went weak.
ELEVEN
Derrick crossed the lobby toward the place where Jazzy stood talking with a tall woman. As he neared, the strain in her body became obvious. Her shoulders were rigid and one hand was clenched into a tight fist. Tension pulsed between her and the woman in nearly perceptible waves.
Wide green eyes turned his way, and there was no mistaking the relief they held. She was glad to see him! A burst of pleasure shot through him.
“There you are.” Jazzy unfisted her free hand and hooked it through his arm. “I’ve been waiting for ages. What took you so long?”
Derrick played along with her game. “Sorry. I got tied up.” Her hand trembled on his arm. She was really shaken up over whatever they’d been talking about. He covered her hand and pressed, then dipped his forehead toward the woman. “Good morning.”
Strong lips tightened. “Morning.” Her gaze slid to Jazzy for one last black look. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
The woman’s words lay between them, heavy with menace. She moved with long strides across the lobby toward the front desk.
Derrick watched her retreating figure. “Making new friends, are you?”
Jazzy went limp. “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life. Thank you for rescuing me from that … that rabid pageant mother.”
Understanding dawned. “Ah. I guess the word is out about the new judge.”
“Apparently so, and not just about the pageant.”
Confused, Derrick shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“The identity of the new barbecue judge has leaked out, too.” She peered up at him with a curious expression. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
A shudder passed through her petite frame. “Do you mind if we sit down while I tell you about our, uh, eventful night?”
She extracted her hand, leaving his arm cold and missing her touch. A couple of upholstered chairs sat nearby in front of a big potted plant, and she headed toward them. Instead of following, Derrick put a hand on her back and steered her toward the restaurant.
“I could use a cup of coffee.”
For a moment he thought she might refuse, but then she looked down at the cup she held. “I guess I could use a refill. Mine has gone cold.”
As they stepped through the entrance, the savory smell of bacon stirred up a rumble in Derrick’s stomach. He held up two fingers to the hostess, and they followed the woman to a booth in the back corner. Derrick refused her offer of a menu. “I’m on my way to my mom’s for breakfast, so I’ll just have coffee right now, thanks. Plenty of cream and a couple of sugars, please.” He looked at Jazzy with a start. “I’m sor
ry. Did you want to order breakfast?”
She shook her head. “Just another coffee, please. Black.”
When the woman left, Derrick folded his hands on the table and gave Jazzy an expectant look. “So I guess you didn’t have a quiet evening in the room after all?”
Her chest jerked with a silent laugh. “The evening was pretty quiet, but it was all downhill from there.”
Derrick listened to her describe the events of last night. Horror crept over him at the mention of the bottle of barbecue sauce the killer left behind.
When the server arrived, Jazzy fell silent. The woman set white cups and saucers in front of them and filled them from a pot. She placed a cream jug and a sugar dispenser beside Derrick’s elbow.
When she walked away, Jazzy continued. “Sheriff Maguire didn’t think the murder and the attack were related to the barbecue competition at all.” She scowled, obviously not in agreement with the sheriff.
Derrick poured a third of the cream into his coffee. “So he thinks the sauce was meant to throw the police off the trail?”
“He seemed pretty sure about that at first. But when we realized last night’s attack was an attempt to get Caitlin’s camera, he might have changed his mind.” Her lips warped into a crooked line. “At least, I think so. He clammed up pretty tight after that. I couldn’t pry anything else out of him. He just kept telling me to leave the investigation to him.”
Derrick swirled his spoon slowly through the tan liquid in his cup, stirring in a steady stream of sugar. “That sounds like him. He doesn’t appreciate anyone trying to mess around in official sheriff’s business.”
A bit of coffee splashed over the rim into the saucer. Derrick licked the spoon dry, then picked up his cup for a sip. When he did, Jazzy folded her napkin and reached across the table to sop up the coffee in the saucer. Derrick hid a grin behind his cup. She really was the neat freak her friends accused her of being. She and his mother would get along great.
He took another sip, savoring the sweet warmth as it rolled across his tongue. “So I guess that woman out in the lobby hadn’t heard the news.”
Murder in D Minor Boxed Set Page 7