by Liz Marvin
A woman screamed, a high pitched, chilling sound that reverberated off the walls and seemed to echo. The murmuring went from nervous to panicked, with people calling out for their friends. The crowd jostled about, and Betty found herself and Bill pushed towards what she thought was the edge of the ballroom as the crowd rushed towards the exits.
Light flooded the ballroom once more, and exposed a scene of chaos. Tables had been overturned, dancers were mussed, and more than a few couples had fallen to the ground, pushed over by the crowd. Betty turned to Bill, wide eyed.
“What happened?” she asked, though logically she knew he couldn’t know the answer.
Bill shrugged. “It could’ve been the storm,” he said.
And then came the second scream. “Someone call 9-1-1!” a woman cried.
CHAPTER 9
Bill and Betty shoved their way over to where a crowd was gathering around a body on the floor.
“Police!” Bill said, pulling his badge from his pocket and flashing it so that people would move more quickly. “Coming through!” Dancers shifted out of the way, looking at him in confusion and shock. When they reached the center of the crowd, Betty gasped.
Emily Knolhart was lying unconscious on the floor.
“It’s gone!” came a shout from the front of the ballroom. “The loving cup is gone!”
As one, the crowd turned to look at the prize table. Even Betty could tell that the huge grand prize no longer sat on the table.
Before everyone could go into a second panic, Bill spoke, his voice loud enough to carry across the room.
“Everyone please calm down and move away from the prize table and Miss Knolhart,” he said firmly. “We’ll be taking statements from everyone present, so find a place out of the way to sit. Is there anyone here with medical training?”
Betty was amazed when the crowd actually seemed to obey him. Bill shrugged at her. “They just needed someone to take charge. I’m sure this will all be sorted out in no time. Once we have a few people with medical training up here, can you instruct a few of them to check and make sure no one else was hurt? I need to stay with Miss Knolhart.”
“Of course,” Betty said. “Just let me know what I can do to help.”
It wasn’t long before a handful of people had made their way to where Betty and Bill were waiting. Betty was surprised to see the chef claiming to have medical training. He shrugged when Betty asked him about it. “I’m no doctor,” he said, the boisterousness of earlier gone, “but you see a lot of strange accidents in kitchens. I can at least help with shock and minor injuries.”
Betty nodded in understanding. “Right,” she said, remembering what Bill said about people needing to have someone take charge in a crisis. “Does anyone else have similar experience?” A waiter and a dancer in a yellow gown stepped forward. “Can the three of you check for any other injuries? There were people on the floor who might have been stepped on. If someone’s injured and they can move, do what you can and have them all sit in one area while we wait for medical supplies. If they can’t move, make sure they have someone to keep an eye on them.”
The three went about their tasks, and Betty turned back to where Bill was kneeling next to Miss Knolhart with a gentleman she recognized as Earnest Foone, the television producer Miss Knolhart was dating. Bill told her that Earnest claimed to have gone to medical school for a couple of years before leaving to pursue a career in television.
Earnest had placed a rolled up jacket underneath Miss Knolhart’s head and was checking her pulse. Betty was relieved to see that there was no pool of blood, and it seemed as though all her bones were aligned in their proper arrangement. Her chest rose and fell slowly.
Miss Knolhart’s eyes fluttered open. She slowly lifted one hand to rub her eyes and started to sit up.
“Whoa there,” said Earnest, gently pressing her shoulder into the ground. “You had a nasty fall there Love. Lie still for a moment.”
The older woman obeyed, lying back and closing her eyes. Her hand reached up to rub her forehead. “What happened?” she asked.
Earnest kept his voice light, though Betty could tell that he was cataloguing all off Miss Knolhart’s reactions carefully. His brow was creased with worry. “We were hoping you could tell us,” he said. “Do you remember anything?”
Miss Knolhart shook her head, hairs coming loose from her bun as she moved.
“No,” she said. “Just the lights going out.”
“But you remember the lights going out?” The doctor continued. “That’s good. Can you tell me your name and birthday?”
“Emily Marie Knolhart,” she replied tartly, “and a lady never tells her age Earnest Foone!”
Earnest chuckled. “I think you’re going to be fine,” he said. “Can you sit up? Stop if it hurts anywhere.”
Miss Knolhart sat up slowly. He peered at her eyes before helping her stand. She leaned heavily on his arm for a moment before taking a few steps on her own. When she had gone a yard, she turned back, a shaky smile on her lips. “No aches or pains,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“Excellent,” Earnest said, kissing her hand. “I suspect you just fainted. Have you eaten anything recently?”
Miss Knolhart shook her head. “Not since breakfast,” she said. “That must be it. Marissa!” she called sharply, pinning a glare on a young woman in a business suit who had been hovering nervously nearby. “Where on earth have you been? Go find me a chair and fix me a plate of fruit!”
“Yes Miss Knolhart.” The girl said, a frightened look on her face as she hurried away. “Right away.”
“Honestly,” the doyenne said, turning to Betty. “I don’t know why I keep her for an assistant. She practically needs a babysitter!” She turned and walked towards the refreshment tables.
Betty met Bill’s eyes and raised an eyebrow. Perhaps if Miss Knolhart treated her assistant better, Marissa wouldn’t act like a whipped dog.
Betty watched Earnest follow Miss Knolhart at a short distance, and shook her head. Miss Knolhart certainly didn’t seem smitten with her new beau. Ah well, she thought, to each their own.
When Betty turned back, Bill was scowling in the direction of the state patrolmen.
“Why are they still over there?” he asked angrily, gesturing to the prize table. “They’re the policemen on duty, and she could’ve been seriously injured!” He scowled. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s find out what’s going on. And so help me,” he fumed, “if they don’t have a good excuse, I’m reporting them!”
“Hello Bill!” One of the policemen said cheerily as they approached. “Everything okay on your end?”
“What do you think you’re doing!” Bill said, keeping his voice low. His angry tone was unmistakable as he gestured towards the crowd that was beginning to disperse. “You should be out there helping!”
The patrolman looked at him, confused. “But you’re the senior officer, Sir. We thought you’d want us to stay at our post.”
Bill pressed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I’m not on duty,” he said. “I’m happy to help if you need it, but this is large crowd. We need to make sure everyone’s okay, and to take statements from as many people as we can tonight. We need as many people working as we have. And besides,” he continued, “there’s nothing left at the prize table for you to guard. So, please?” he said, gesturing to the dancers who still lined the walls. “Get to work.”
The patrolmen traded uneasy glances.
“Well,” one began.
“You see,” the other continued.
“We, umm…”
“Oh hang it all,” the first one said. “We don’t really know how to do any of that. Oh, we had the classes and all,” he continued when Bill looked about to protest. “But we haven’t done any of it in the field yet, and… well…” he hung his head.
Bill sighed. “So,” he said, “let me get this straight. You two have no idea what you’re doing in the field, and there’s no superior
officer on duty with you?” The patrolmen nodded. “Well,” said Bill briskly. “There’s no time like the present to learn. So, if you need me to, I’ll take charge of the investigation until someone is able to make it up here through the storm. But you two are going to be doing a lot of leg work.”
The patrolmen nodded. Bill turned into the crowd. “Wes!” he yelled, gesturing at a blob across the room. The blob and another blob that Betty assumed was Clarise started to walk over.
After Bill explained the situation, the four decided that it would be best for Betty and Clarise to return to their rooms upstairs. Just taking statements was guaranteed to take quite a while, even with four policemen working.
~
In the hotel room, the first thing Betty did was sit on one of the chairs and yank her high heels off her feet. Red marks from where they’d cut into her circulation showed on the backs and tops of her feet, and Betty rubbed her feet a little to get the feeling back. Her feet might be throbbing now, but having them out of those shoes felt so good… sometimes, Betty wondered if women wore heels just for the feeling of getting to take them off. Next to her, Clarise was doing the same thing. They grinned at each other in understanding.
“Beauty is pain and all that crap?” asked Clarise.
“Exactly,” Betty agreed. She leapt up, ignoring her protesting feet. They’d feel better soon. “I call shower first!” she exclaimed, before grabbing her toiletry bag and running into the bathroom.
“You’d better hurry up!” Clarise called. “If you take too long, I’m coming in there with you!”
Betty laughed, knowing that Clarise would do no such thing. In fact, by the time Betty came out, Clarise would probably be too engrossed in a book of plays to bother with taking a shower right away. So, while she didn’t dilly dally, Betty certainly didn’t rush as she let the shower soak away her aches and stress.
True to her prediction, Clarise was curled up with on the bed nearest the window when Betty came out in her pajamas.
“Shower’s free,” she said. Clarise flapped a hand at her. “Five minutes. I’m almost at the end of the second act.”
Betty chuckled and flopped backwards onto the bed she had claimed earlier. When her head hit the pillows, Betty frowned. The pillows felt hard. Hard and lumpy. That wasn’t right. She sat up to adjust them, and froze as her hand brushed something that was most definitely not a pillow.
She lifted the pillow up.
“Um, Clarise?” she said, just enough panic in her voice to let Clarise know that something was wrong. Clarise leapt up and came over to see what Betty was looking at.
There, underneath Betty’s pillow, was a pile of money. One hundred dollar bills lay in neat packages still wrapped with paper straps from the bank. Betty was willing to bet that, if she counted it, it would come out to $100,000.
Someone had put the stolen prize money under her pillow.
CHAPTER 10
“Well,” Clarise said after a moment, “the way I see it, you have two choices. So, which is it? Las Vegas or a bank in Switzerland?”
Betty ogled her friend, unsure whether to laugh or smack her. “What’s wrong with you?” she said, her voice rising as some of the twisting in her gut tightened. “Someone was in our room! They came in, and… and…”
Clarise dropped her smile. “Would you rather I scream?” she asked. “I’m fully aware that someone broke into our room. That someone put the stolen money under your pillow and probably looked through all of our private things. I haven’t even checked to see if my wallet is still here yet! Though, I don’t know what someone who’d dump one hundred thousand dollars would want with my credit cards! If you’d rather I panic, I can and I will.”
Betty could see that, the more Clarise talked, the more panic really did seem to be setting in to her friend. Clarise’s breath was coming in huge breaths. If she didn’t calm down soon, she’d start to hyperventilate. Betty swallowed her own panic in the face of her friend’s.
“Oh, fine,” Betty said, steering Clarise into one of the chairs by the window. “If I have to pick, Las Vegas. I can go to the Swiss bank later, after I’ve hosted my own Elvis impersonation contest at the MGM Grand. Sit.” Clarise sat. Betty almost said “Good dog. Now roll over and play dead,” but one look at her friend’s pale face made her decide against it. “Do you need me to get you any water?” she asked instead.
“I’m fine,” said Clarise.
“Mmmhm. Sure you are. Take deep breaths and wait here. I’m going to go call Bill.”
“And Wes,” Clarise reminded her, seeming to perk up at the thought.
“Absolutely,” Betty agreed. “And Wes. I’ll be right back.”
Betty went over to her purse and rifled through it with shaking hands until she came up with her cell phone. It was only after she had fumbled through finding and pressing Bill’s number that Betty realized she had no idea what she was going to say. What was there to say? “Hi Bill, guess what? You know how all that money was stolen? I found it under my pillow. Isn’t that wonderful? Take me away to the big house, and I’ll see you in ten to twenty years. Less if I get out early on good behavior!”
There wasn’t much she could do about it now. His phone was ringing. And, Betty reminded herself, Bill would know she hadn’t done anything. He’d been with her during the whole blackout! Everything would be just fine.
“Betty?” came Bill’s voice. Betty couldn’t quite fight back that slightly hysterical laugh that had bubbled up without warning. A half second of it managed to break through. “Betty?” Bill asked. Now he sounded worried.
“Um…” said Betty. “I know you’re busy with statements, but you and Wes might want to come up to the room.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
She’d just have to come out and say it. Betty squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think as she blurted out, “Someone put the prize money underneath my pillow!”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone conversation, and Betty imagined that she could hear all the gears in Bill’s mind grinding to sudden halt.
“Can you repeat that?” Bill asked, carefully and clearly speaking each word as Betty imagined he would speak when calming a person in a straitjacket. Maybe she should be in one.
“Absolutely,” she said, fighting the panic that was starting to rise again. “I’ll even enunciate. Someone… put… the… stolen… prize… money… under… my… pillow.”
“Ah.” There was another brief pause before Bill’s voice came again. “We’ll be right there. Don’t leave, and lock your door. Don’t open it for anyone else, no matter what they say.”
Betty heard a click as he flipped his cell phone shut.
Well, she thought, that was that. Bill was coming up. She made sure the deadbolt was across the door and poured herself and Clarise glasses of water before going to join Clarise in the chairs by the window.
“The boys will be here soon. We’re to sit tight until they come.” Clarise nodded.
“You know,” Clarise said, looking out the window at the snow. The flakes were still falling heavy and fast. They couldn’t see through the whiteout to anything beyond the hotel, but Betty knew the view was probably breathtaking. “I didn’t want to be at the center of another investigation this soon.”
Betty reached out and took Clarise’s hand in hers. “Listen,” she said firmly. “We did nothing wrong. “Wes and Bill know us. And,” she continued firmly, “they were with us during the black out and after. There is no way we could’ve taken the money and made it up here to stash it without them knowing.” She laughed. “Our alibis are the men in charge of the investigation! So relax, would you?”
Clarise sighed. “I know, it’s silly. It’s just…”
Betty remembered the way her friend had looked after the last crime she had stumbled upon purely by chance. First the shock of seeing a friend dead, and then the hurt and betrayal as most of the town she’d lived in for years became convinced she was a killer. Clarise’s norma
lly cheery and open face had been ashen, her eyes wide with panic. Betty couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be in the same position again.
Thud! Thud! Thud! The door shook in its frame as someone on the other side knocked loudly.
“Open up!” came a voice from the other side. “Police!”
Clarise’s eyes were wide with panic. “Is that how they act when they believe you’re innocent?”
Betty squeezed Clarise’s shoulder as she stood. She was about to open the door before she remembered Bill’s warning. She looked through the peephole, to see a strange man in a police uniform standing in front of her door. She thought he looked like one of the state patrolmen who had been guarding the prize table, but she couldn’t be sure. She cleared her throat of its sudden tightness.
“Are Bill and Wes with you?” she asked.
The man looked to the side. “They are,” he said.
“Oh good,” Betty said, trying to keep her voice light. “Would you please ask Bill to step in front of the peephole?”
“I told you,” came Bill’s annoyed voice from somewhere out of sight of the peephole, “to just guard the door and wait until we got there to knock. What did you do, announce our business to the whole hall?”
The guard’s guilty expression must have been answer enough, before Betty heard Bill huff in annoyance.
Suddenly, his face filled her vision. “It’s us Betty,” he said. “You can open the door.”
The click of the deadbolt flicking back was extraordinarily loud to Betty’s ears. She opened the door. Bill and Wes stood with the original officer Betty had seen. Betty moved aside to let them enter. “Sorry about him,” Bill said softly, jerking his head back to indicate the patrolman. “He’s a greenie. We were delayed because Wes and I wanted to make sure the hotel could give us new rooms.”
Betty’s lips trembled into what she hoped was a semblance of a smile. “That’s okay,” she said.