“Josh said it’s not in the room. Books don’t disappear on their own,” Bernard pointed out. “If he didn’t take it, and you didn’t take it, then someone else did.”
“You’re not the only ones missing small items either,” Holden added. “Each of the guests reported an inconsequential item was removed from their rooms.”
“A hairbrush, cuff links, a bottle of perfume, and a hat to name a few,” Bernard told me.
“Not just a hat,” Holden said snootily. “It’s an expensive fedora purchased in Paris.” I didn’t need to struggle too hard to figure out whose hat was taken.
“Unless those skeleton keys were universal, the only ones who had access to our rooms were the staff,” I told them.
“The keys aren’t universal,” Holden told me. “There are three keys for each guestroom. They give two keys to guests and one is retained for housekeeping. Geneva Louderback said no one has ever reported stolen items to her before, and she emphatically supports her housekeeping staff.”
“Something else odd happened to us the first night we stayed,” I said suddenly. I told them about finding the balcony doors open on Saturday morning. “I know for a fact I shut them.”
“You think someone came into your room while you slept and opened the balcony doors?”
“I’d convinced myself I hadn’t shut the doors all the way, and they had blown open because nothing else made sense. Maybe I didn’t want to think about someone creeping around in our room while Josh and I slept.” Just saying the words out loud sent a shiver of unease down my spine.
“Are you a sound sleeper?”
“I am, but the sound of an opening door or turning lock would normally wake me up. I doubt very much someone scaled the side of the building and climbed over the balcony rail.”
The hotel door opened suddenly behind me. “Secret passages,” Josh said suddenly. The three of us turned to face him. “Okay, you caught me eavesdropping, but it wasn’t hard to do with these paper-thin doors.” Josh rolled his eyes then continued. “Remember how Wanda used secret passages to get the jump on you in the cellar?”
“Wanda?”
“Cellar?”
I could hear the humor and curiosity in their voices, but I thought it was best to stay focused or at least keep Josh focused since he appeared to be on to something. “What makes you think this house has secret passages?”
“There was a lot of uncertainty in our nation during the time the house was built. What if the wealthy owner made sure there was a way for his family to escape from their rooms and hide someplace safe if trouble came knocking at their door? What’s something all the rooms had in common?”
Holden and Bernard exchanged a meaningful look.
“Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves,” Bernard said.
“Every guest room had them,” Holden said in awe. “Why wouldn’t Geneva Louderback tell us about them?”
“She hasn’t owned the home long. Perhaps it wasn’t disclosed to her, or perhaps that level of deceit is so foreign it didn’t occur to her,” I told them. “Not everyone is a jaded cop.”
“Your question now is: who did know? Any of the employees? What about the guests?” Josh asked. “There was an obvious familiarity between Geneva, Juliette, and a few of the guests.”
“Not Bonnie and Clyde,” I pointed out. “Juliette was giving them the grand tour after they arrived. Bonnie and Clyde were familiar with George, Georgia, Henry, and Petal, but they didn’t act as if they’d stayed at Tarlington House before.”
“Damn, who are Bonnie and Clyde again?” Holden asked me.
“Beatrice and Clarence Danner,” Bernard answered. “They, along with Michelle and Candace Young, Anna Harris, and Yannis Martin, claimed to be first-time visitors like you.”
“I got to know one thing, Detectives,” Josh said. “Is Yannis Martin a surgeon?”
“Not even close,” Holden replied. “He’s a motorcycle mechanic and a very successful one from what I’ve found.”
“I would expect him to have more dexterity like my father-in-law who is a brilliant mechanic,” Josh said. “It was obvious he was quite enchanted with Brittany, but I don’t see him stabbing her. The man could barely slice through butter, but I guess he could’ve gotten lucky.”
“How’d you know the victim was stabbed?” Bernard asked.
“I coerced the information out of Gabe using my Brenda Leigh skills.”
I rolled my eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything to him. I’m sorry, guys.”
“I swear I won’t say a word about it, Detectives.” My look said he was in a lot of trouble.
“So, we have someone possibly sneaking through the passages to steal things and open French doors in the middle of the night,” Holden reasoned out loud.
“And stabbing people,” Josh added.
Holden snickered. “We didn’t forget about that.”
“We’ll get out of here so you guys can eat and get some sleep,” Bernard said. “I’m sure you’re eager to leave early.”
“Unless you’ve changed your mind about staying to help,” Holden suggested hopefully.
“I haven’t,” I replied. It was time to get the hell out of there.
Josh and I shook hands with the detectives and thanked them for their thoughtfulness. “Safe travels,” they called out as they headed down the steps to the ground level.
Ushering Josh inside, I closed the door, turning the deadbolt and sliding the chain into place though neither would keep out anyone who meant to do us harm. I wished like hell I had my gun. I scooted the chair tucked beneath the small desk so it was wedged beneath the door handle even though it didn’t offer much assurance. One good shove and one or more legs were sure to break. I debated moving the dresser in front of the door but decided against it.
By the time I finished, Josh had filled paper plates with delicious-smelling food for both of us. “I’m not sleeping in a separate bed than you,” he said around a bite of macaroni salad. “On you, in you, under you, or sleeping on our sides.”
I didn’t bother cracking jokes or making suggestive comments because I knew his desire to be in the same bed with me had nothing to do with sex. He needed the comfort of my arms holding him tight, or the weight of my body to remind him we were both alive. He needed my body heat to chase away the chill permeating our souls since we found out Brittany was killed. I needed him every bit as much.
After we ate, we wedged ourselves into one twin bed without showering first and fell into a deep sleep. The next time I opened my eyes, sunlight poured in through the cracks around the door and the sliver of space between surprisingly effective blackout curtains. The first thing that occurred to me was I had to piss really bad. I forgot all about my pressing need when I noticed the desk chair was no longer tucked beneath the door handle and realized my husband was no longer in our hotel room.
I DON’T NORMALLY CONSIDER myself a sneaky or stupid person, but on what was to be the final morning in South Carolina, I proved I could be both of those things when the situation arose. What, pray tell, was the urgent situation that had me sneaking out of the hotel room while Gabe was asleep? My stomach. I was starving by the time Detective Holden delivered our dinner, so I naturally filled up fast. It was like my stomach suddenly shrunk to half its size during the tumultuous hours following Brittany’s death. Would I ever get used to calling her Brittany? I’d heard starvation was used as a method of torture to get suspects to talk, and I could see why it worked.
I checked my GrubHub app, but there were no restaurants delivering so early in the morning. I did a quick search for restaurants and found an adorable donut shop nearby. According to Google Maps, it was only a few blocks away. Wouldn’t Gabe love to wake up to warm, delicious donuts and high-octane coffee? We had the keys back, so I could drive the minivan to Dinah’s Donuts instead of walking the short distance. A quick trip there and back. I would be perfectly safe. What could go wrong?
I told myself if Gabe so much as stirred while I b
rushed my teeth and changed clothes, I would go ahead and wake him up so we could grab the donuts on the way out of town. I admit to feeling pissy when Gabe announced we were going home instead of sticking around to help solve the case, but I got over it quickly. First, there was the sexiness of his domineering, protective streak, and the fact he was right. I missed our babies, parents, and friends. I didn’t want to spend another second breathing the same air as the phony people we’d met on vacation, and let’s not forget, one of those fake fuckers was likely a killer too.
In a way, I guess it was Gabe’s fault; he didn’t even wiggle a toe, let alone wake up to stop me from pulling a sneaky, stupid stunt. I’d be sure to inform him of it if I got caught too. I quietly let myself out the door then walked down the steps to our van. “Hold up, Josh,” said a voice I recognized. I stopped in my tracks and prayed this wouldn’t be my last day on earth. I spent absolutely zero time fixing my damn hair before I dashed out, and I couldn’t be certain my underwear would be considered good. No one wanted to die in bad underwear. “Just where do you think you’re sneaking off to this morning?”
I slowly turned and looked into Henry—William’s—vibrant green eyes. “If you must know, I’m going to get breakfast for my husband and me at Dinah’s Donuts.”
“On foot?”
I pushed the button on the key fob. The minivan’s horn beeped and the headlights flashed when it unlocked. “Nope.”
“Hey, do you mind if I tag along with you?”
“Actually, William, I do mind. I’m only making a quick stop then coming back here to get my husband so we can get the hell out of Dodge.”
“But you’re coming back to the hotel, so why does it matter? And why do you guys get to have access to your vehicle while the rest of us don’t? How is that fair? Whose dick do I need to suck to get my keys too?”
“Life isn’t fair,” I replied.
“Why are you so hostile toward me? I thought we made a connection in your room last night.”
“You were grieving over your wife. We didn’t ‘make a connection.’ What the hell is wrong with you?” Then I realized where the true source of my anger came from. “You have a lot of nerve looking me in the eye and claiming you want to be my friend when just yesterday you slipped a note to my husband. Did you think he wouldn’t tell me?”
A sly smile spread across William slash Henry’s face. “Aren’t you a little curious about what the note said?”
“No,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say you propositioned my husband.”
“You’d be wrong then,” he replied flippantly before stepping closer. “Well, partially wrong; I wanted both of you. Still do, if I’m honest.”
“Your wife—”
“Of course, I’m upset Brittany is dead, but she was a person who believed in living life to the fullest. She’d want me to celebrate life by fucking until I couldn’t fuck any longer.”
“You’re insane. The whole lot of you are,” I said, stepping back toward the safety of my van. “Go away, Henry.”
“I prefer indulgent over insane,” he said glibly. “It’s your loss. Have a nice life, Josh.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when he turned and walked away from me. I locked myself in the minivan and took a few seconds to regain my composure before turning the key in the ignition. “Calm down, Josh. Go get the coffee and donuts so we can eat and get the fuck out of here.” I glanced up in the rearview mirror as I pulled out of the parking lot. William Henry who-the-fuck-ever was talking to a guy wearing a ball cap low enough to shade his features so I couldn’t identify him. There was something familiar about his body language, but I couldn’t pull his name out of my tired brain. William Henry didn’t look threatened, so I didn’t think much of it.
I drove the short distance to Dinah’s and stood in line for a solid fifteen minutes before I got up to the counter. My phone rang in my pocket, and I didn’t need to check the caller ID to know who was looking for me. I let it go to voicemail while I placed the order then dialed Gabe while the silver fox behind the counter boxed up six of the sexiest donuts I’d ever seen.
“Where the fuck are you?” Gabe snarled into the phone when he picked up.
“Good morning, love of my life.”
“Where the fuck are you, Josh?” he asked once more through gritted teeth.
“I’m at the donut shop down the street. Where’d you think I was? The trunk of a car?”
“What’s the name of the donut shop?”
“Gabe, I’m not telling you. I’m perfectly safe, and I’ll be back in a few minutes with donuts and coffee.”
“Tell me—”
I didn’t hear the rest of what Gabe had to say because Silver Fox had my order ready. “Gotta go, Gabe. See you in a few.” I disconnected the call and smiled at the handsome man patiently waiting for me to grab my goodies and go. “Thank you so much.”
Silver Fox winked at me, so maybe my hair wasn’t as unfortunate looking as I thought. “Be careful. The coffee is really hot.”
My phone rang again immediately, and I answered it as soon as I stepped outside the donut shop so Gabe wouldn’t stroke out before I got back to the hotel. “I’m fine, Gabe. I’m almost—”
“William Blake was just shot in the parking lot of our hotel. You are absolutely not safe.”
Shock caused me to stop in my tracks just outside the donut shop when I should’ve hustled to the minivan. “What? I just ran into him. He was casually talking to a guy in the parking lot when I left. Is he—” I couldn’t bring myself to finish my question.
“He isn’t dead, but he’s critical. One of his lungs collapsed, and he was struggling to breathe, so he couldn’t tell me who shot him. Whoever shot him probably saw you talking to William before you left. He might think you could identify him. Did William know where you were going?” The fear in Gabe’s voice spurred me into action.
“Oh fuck.”
“Where are you, Josh?”
“Din—”
“Don’t say another fucking word.” More menacing than the deep voice behind me was the press of something hard and metal in my lower back. “Hang up the phone. We’re going for a ride.”
“Josh? Are you still there? Who’s with you?” Gabe asked.
Whoever held the gun on me jerked the phone out of my hand, dropped it to the ground, and stomped on it. Fucker.
My life didn’t flash before my eyes, but I did hear my mother’s voice.
“Never get in the car with someone dangerous, Joshy. A moving target is always harder to shoot, but you can increase your chances of survival even more by running in a zig-zag pattern.”
I never would’ve guessed her advice would come in handy.
“If ever you find yourself in trouble, don’t holler for help. Yell ‘fire’ as loud as you can. It’s sad, but people aren’t always willing to intervene when you’re getting attacked. You also throw your assailant off balance, giving you the chance to run.”
“Thank you, Roberta Roman,” I said out loud.
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. My assailant jumped back in surprise, giving me enough time to turn and throw my scalding hot coffee in his face.
“Fuck!” he yelled, covering his face with his free hand while waving the gun in the air.
“Gun!” someone yelled. Everyone on the street screamed and ran for safety. Well, all but one.
“I’m going to kill you, you fucking fa—” He didn’t get to finish what he was about to say before I drove my knee into his crotch as hard as I could. It was my signature move to take down threats.
Smart people would’ve run in the zig-zag pattern, but I felt the anger of every homosexual person who had been called ugly names in their lifetime. I got my first real look at my attacker when he fell to the ground holding his junk with his free hand. It was the bellhop from Tarlington House. I poured the second cup of coff
ee on his face, eliciting more anguished screams from him, but he didn’t let go of the gun. I stomped on the wrist of his gun hand as hard as I could, hoping it would cause his hand to go numb. A sickening crunch made me want to puke, but his fingers went slack. I kicked the gun away from his reach and looked around me for help, but everyone had dived into their cars or nearby shops for cover. All except one, sexy-as-fuck man sprinting down the sidewalk toward me. I heard the sirens approaching and knew he’d called for help when he realized something was wrong.
A cop car screeched to a stop, and two officers got out and approached the scene with their weapons drawn. Barking orders for me to move away from the man on the ground. I held my hands in the air and realized I was still holding the bag of donuts and empty drink carrier in my left hand. An unmarked car pulled up right behind them carrying Holden and Bernard. They quickly diverted the focus off me and on to the man on the ground. I’d broken the man’s wrist, so he couldn’t be cuffed without getting medical treatment first. The responding officers radioed for an ambulance and bagged the gun as evidence. Gabe had stopped a distance from the scene until Holden gave him the okay to approach.
Gabe was a sweaty, panting mess by the time he reached me. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do,” he said, pulling me into his arms and holding me tight. “You scared the fuck out of me. Never again, do you hear me?”
“There won’t be a next time because you’ve promised never to pick a vacation again,” I reminded him cheekily. A chuckle rumbled through his chest as his grip tightened even more. “I’m so sorry I scared you, Gabe. I just wanted to surprise you with donuts and coffee.”
“Are you cracking cop jokes at a time like this?”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” I replied honestly.
Silver Fox came out of the donut shop with a new bag of donuts and two fresh coffees. “That was the bravest, and possibly stupidest, thing I’ve ever seen. The least I can do is replace your empty cups and mangled donuts.” We thanked him for his kindness and exchanged the old for the new, and I leaned against Gabe’s broad shoulder when Silver Fox went back inside.
Ride or Dye (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, #6) Page 16