“That’s a good idea.” The tone of her voice told me she did not think it was a good idea at all. This was a bad sign. She was probably already second-guessing her decision to stay away from him. If she was left alone for too long, I had no doubt that she’d give him a call. “Or, if you’d rather,” she said, “maybe we could do it tomorrow?”
“No,” I said. “Tonight is good.” She grudgingly agreed that I pick her up around eight thirty. This would give me ample time to bring Matthew up-to-date and decide what our next move should be.
The rest of the day was slow, which in a way was a relief since I was without help. This gave me the chance to finish the second of Marnie’s dishcloths and get through almost half the third. At five o’clock, when Jenny closed her shop, I closed mine too.
• • •
“I hope pepperoni is okay with you,” Matthew said, dropping the box on the table. “Because that’s what I got.”
“Sounds great,” I said, pouring the Chianti. I handed him a glass and he sipped while I set the table.
He eyed me over the rim. “You look good.” I flushed with pleasure. He had been paying me way more compliments lately.
“You’re looking mighty fine too,” I said. See, Marnie? I can so flirt. I was hoping for a bit more pleasant banter, but Matthew tackled his slice of pizza with enthusiasm.
“You won’t believe what I found out,” I said. “Nancy Cutler stopped by the store today.” I told him about Nancy’s behavior at the party, the way she had been chatting pleasantly with Bruce one minute and then running out in a panic the next. “She isn’t one hundred percent sure, but she thinks she recognized Bruce as the same man who used to date Helen’s sister before she disappeared. If it’s him, he was using a different name back then. She knew him as Brent Donaldson.”
“Are you serious?” he said. “Interesting—Bruce, Brent—both names start with the letter B.”
“So do the family names,” I pointed out. “Doherty and Donaldson. Is that supposed to mean something?”
“Maybe so. Don’t ask me why, but people who use aliases frequently choose names with the same initials. If he turns out to be the man Helen’s sister was dating, the name Brent is probably an alias too. He might have been using dozens of aliases over the years. If and when we find out his real name, I bet it starts with the same initials.” He took another sip of wine and then said, “What doesn’t make sense to me is why he would show up here, in a town where he knows he runs the risk of being recognized.”
“I forgot to mention that Nancy and Helen’s sister, Sybille, lived in Chicago at the time. And here’s another interesting tidbit. Nancy never met Brent Donaldson in person. It seems that every time Sybille invited him to come and meet her roommate, he made some excuse to put it off. I get the feeling the man didn’t want to be seen.”
“By the way, if Nancy never saw him, how does she explain recognizing him?”
“She’d seen that one picture of him. And get this—when Sybille showed it to her, she made her promise never to mention it to him. It seems he wouldn’t let her take his picture, so she had to take it secretly.”
“Ah, that explains why he wasn’t worried about coming out here. He probably didn’t realize Sybille even took pictures of him.” He thought for a second, then added, “But people change over the years. How can she be so sure it was him?”
“She recognized his voice. He used to call Sybille at the apartment, and Nancy and he talked lots of times.”
His interest seemed to sharpen. “Now, that’s a detail that sounds convincing.” He put his fork down. “How long ago did Sybille disappear?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I think it’s been twenty years or so.”
“People often change physically over time. After twenty years, most of us are hardly recognizable. But a person’s voice, the inflections and accents, those are things that don’t change.”
“So you think there’s something to Nancy’s story?”
“Enough to make it worth looking into,” he said.
“If it’s true, that would explain the argument between Bruce and Helen at the party. She must have recognized him and confronted him. And it gives him a hell of a motive for wanting her out of the way.”
“Hold on a second. Helen was living out here. And she never met, and probably never even spoke to the man. So how could she have recognized him?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe Sybille took another, clearer picture of her boyfriend and sent it to Helen. Or maybe she sent her an enlarged copy of the one she showed Nancy. The point is, this theory makes sense.”
“Without proof, any theory makes sense.”
I hated it when he talked like a defense attorney. “You’re supposed to be helping, not hindering.”
“The problem is, only two people could answer that question and they’re both dead.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “I wonder if he made Sybille take out a life insurance policy too.”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “Sorry, kiddo. I know how much you want to be right, but you said Sybille disappeared, right?” I nodded. “And they never found her body?”
I knew what he was about to say. I had already come to the same conclusion. “I know. I know.”
“It’s impossible to get an insurance company to fork over the face amount without proof of death. And that, my dear, is hard to do without a body.”
“I said I know.”
“All right,” Matthew said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Let me add this: I agree with you that the man could potentially be very dangerous. You may be right and he could be a killer. One thing for sure, Marnie has to stay away from him.”
“I sure hope she does. I had the impression she was wavering when I spoke to her earlier today. She wants to give him back his engagement ring. I’m afraid she wants to use that as an excuse to contact him.”
“What? That is just plain crazy. Under no circumstances is she to go anywhere near that man.”
“I promised to pick her up. If I’m with her, I don’t see how—”
“Are you crazy? No way. I won’t let you.”
I looked at my watch. “But I’m supposed to be there in an hour.”
He was still shaking his head. “Didn’t you hear a word I just said? Call her right now. Tell her you can’t make it and that she’s absolutely not to go by herself.”
I picked up the phone. After four rings, the answering machine came on.
“Hi, Marnie. It’s me. Pick up.” I waited until the dial tone. “I know she’s screening her calls,” I said to Matthew. I hung up and punched in her number again. Still no answer. “Now I’m getting really worried.”
One look into Matthew’s eyes told me he felt much the same. He pushed back his chair. “Let’s go.” Winston jumped to his feet and galloped to the door. “No, Winston. You stay.” He slunk off with his head low.
I grabbed my sweater and scratched Winnie behind the ears. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back.” I locked the door and raced down the stairs to keep up with Matthew’s long legs. “We’ll take my car,” I said. “It’ll be faster.” Minutes later, we came to a screeching halt in front of Marnie’s house. I scrambled out of the driver’s seat, and got to the door just as Matthew was pressing the bell.
“Try again,” I said. “She’s got to be home.”
“I’ve already tried three times. I don’t care how sore she is, if she’s home, she would have made it to the door by now.”
“Unless she’s . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. “What if he came by? She’s in love with him. He could have sweet-talked her into letting him in.”
“Do you know if she keeps an emergency key anywhere?”
“I have no idea,” I said, picking up one rock from the border of the flower bed. Soon Matthew and I had turned over a
ll the rocks. We’d checked the mailbox and under the doormat.
“I found it,” he said, slipping the key into the lock. “It was above the doorframe.”
The door swung open and we ran inside. I raced to the bedroom. It was empty, the bed neatly made. “She’s not here.” I hurried back out and knocked on the bathroom door. “Marnie? Are you in there?” No answer. I pushed it open. Empty. My heart was pounding harder with every passing minute. I ran to the kitchen, and then to the professional kitchen. My eyes fell on the walk-in freezer and my heart almost stopped. Oh, dear God, no. I tore open the door, and almost collapsed with relief. The only thing in the freezer was food.
Marnie was not at home. I trudged back to the living room and let myself collapse onto the red-lips sofa.
“Where do you think she is? Actually, don’t answer that.” I dropped my face into my hands. “I should have stayed with her. If anything’s happened to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Matthew sat down next to me, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “She’s probably just gone to the store or something. It’s way too soon to worry.”
“No. She knew I was coming here at eight thirty. If she needed anything, she would have asked me to pick it up.”
Matthew looked at his watch. “It’s only a quarter to eight. You said she was expecting you at eight thirty? I bet she’ll be back by then.”
I wanted to believe him. “I don’t know. I have a really bad feeling.” His forehead furrowed. “What is it?” I asked.
“I have an idea where she might be. Come with me.”
Chapter 12
I started the car and looked at him.
“Where, exactly are we going?”
“The Longview.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” I put the car in gear and we took off.
The hotel was just a few blocks down Main Street, and it came into sight all lit up against the evening sky. I drove into the parking lot behind the hotel, pulled to a stop, and opened the door.
“Wait here,” Matthew told me. “I don’t think you should come with me.” I didn’t argue, but if he thought I was going to wait in the car, he had another think coming. I stepped out.
“Della,” he said sharply, “this is something I want to do by myself.”
“Fine. You do whatever it is you want to do. I’ll watch.” I threw up my hands. “No harm.”
He shook his head in frustration. “You drive me crazy.”
“Oh yeah? Well, it’s a short drive,” I said, grinning. He’d once said this to me, and it gave me tremendous satisfaction to give it back to him.
He walked to the hotel lobby, while I scampered to keep up. By the time I joined him at the front desk, Bunny had one ear pressed to a phone. “There’s no answer,” she said, putting the phone down. “Are you sure about this? What if he’s in the shower?”
“Knock a couple of times, and if there’s still no answer open the door. If he’s inside, all you do is apologize and ask him if he wants the turndown service.”
She grimaced. “It’ll sound a bit weird, since he’s been here for weeks and I’ve never offered him the turndown service till now.” She disappeared behind a door, reappearing a moment later with a key card in hand. “He’ll probably think I’m there to seduce him,” she mumbled as she led the way.
“You don’t think—” I started to ask, and then swallowed hard. I’d been worrying about this since Matthew had told me where we were going. “You think Bruce hurt Marnie?” I was near tears.
Ahead of us, Bunny paused at a door and knocked. She waited a second and then slipped in the card and pushed it open. “Management,” she called out. No answer. She stepped aside, letting Matthew in first. She and I followed.
Matthew came to a sharp stop and gasped. As I reached him, the bloody scene came into view just as a sweet, metallic smell hit me. I reeled from the gruesome sight.
Next to me, Bunny shrieked. She looked as if she would faint.
“You ladies get out of here,” Matthew ordered.
“That’s okay,” she said, and took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I’ll go call the police.” She turned and ran down the hall.
I turned my attention to the body on the floor. I felt faint from relief. It wasn’t Marnie. It was Bruce Doherty, lying on his back next to the bed, with a deep and bloody gash along his forehead. Behind him, the wall was splattered with blood. Matthew took a step closer, leaning over him.
“Is he . . .”
“Dead as a doornail,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. We don’t want to contaminate the crime scene.”
He closed the door, making sure it was locked, and we walked back to the reception area, where Bunny was just putting the phone down. She was still pale, but when she spoke her voice was less shaky.
“The police are on their way.” She brushed a hand through her blond hair. “This is going to be terrible for business. Damn it. First somebody breaks into my hotel and steals my most expensive painting, and then one of the guests gets murdered. How to drive customers away.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a hiccup. “I invested a lot of money in this place. I can’t afford it to go under.” She gave us an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. That was rather callous of me. That poor man is dead, and meanwhile here I am worrying about my business.”
“It’s a normal reaction,” Matthew said.
“Do me a favor,” she said. “Could you ask the cops to be discreet? Maybe they could use the back entrance and keep their cruisers farther away in the parking lot.”
“I’ll do what I can,” he said.
He looked around and, spotting a couple of armchairs, he said, “We might as well sit while we wait.”
“Yes, of course. In the meantime, can I get you something to drink?” Bunny asked.
“A glass of water, please,” I said. My mouth had gone bone dry.
“Same here,” he said. Bunny disappeared in the direction of the dining room. As soon as she was out of sight, I leaned over to him.
“You won’t tell the police about Marnie, will you?” He took my hand, squeezing it gently. That simple gesture calmed my racing heart. It occurred to me again that lately Matthew had been openly affectionate with me—a shoulder hug here, an arm squeeze there. It wasn’t much, but it gave me a warm feeling, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to . . . well . . . like me more.
“I’m sorry, Della. I know she’s a friend of yours, but I can’t withhold information from the police.”
“What information? You don’t know anything. You’re only guessing. And I promise you, you’re wrong. Marnie would never hurt a soul.”
He gave me a lopsided smile. “Your loyalty to your friends is one of the things I like best about you. But let me point out one thing. The fact that you’re asking me not to tell the police about Marnie proves that you jumped to the same conclusion I did.” My eyes watered, and by the time the cop car arrived, tears were running down my cheeks. Next to me, Matthew said, “Damn it, Della. Don’t use tears to try to control me. It’s not fair.”
I wiped my cheeks with my sleeve. “I’m not trying to make you do anything.”
Two policemen walked in. The first one was Officer Lombard, and the second was her partner, Harrison. She nodded to Matthew, and then took one look at me and raised her eyebrows. “Della? Della Wright? I can’t believe it. Are you the one who called in a dead body?”
Bunny returned with the water in time to hear the question. “No, Officer. That was me.” She handed Matthew and me the glasses.
Relief washed over Officer Harrison’s face. He took off his cap, brushed his dark hair back, and plopped the cap back on his head. “That would have been quite the coincidence,” he said. “Two bodies in less than a week.”
“Della and Matthew were with me,” Bunny added. “Matthew thought we should check on the
deceased because he was worried about his state of mind.”
The officer turned to Matthew. “Did you already suspect he might be dead?”
“No. All I knew was that his fiancée had decided to end their relationship, and I worried he might be taking it badly.”
“Does this deceased have a name?”
“Bruce Doherty,” Bunny said. “He’s been a guest at the hotel for about a month and a half.”
The policewoman scribbled the name down and then slipped her notebook back into her shirt pocket. “All rightee, now. Can somebody here direct us to the body?”
“His room is down the hall, second from the end,” Bunny said, looking nervous. “Officer, would you mind taking the back entrance? I would like to deal with all this as discreetly as possible.” She waved vaguely toward the dining room. “You know—the guests.”
“I’ll go around with you,” Matthew said, already heading to the door. “Della, you wait for me.”
“No problem.” This was one time I was more than happy not to be included.
“Should I come?” Bunny asked. “I don’t have anybody to work reception.”
“We can speak with you later,” the policeman said, and the two officers and Matthew left.
A second later, a group of people walked through the lobby on their way out, and Bunny glanced nervously toward the door. Luckily the officers were already halfway through the parking lot. The guests stopped and congratulated Bunny on the delicious food and the quality of the service.
“Thank you. I hope you come again,” she replied, just as another group walked through. Suddenly, I recognized one of them.
“Melinda? Is that you?”
The beautiful blonde had looked at me, then quickly glanced away, pretending not to see me. Now she feigned surprise.
“Why, Della. Fancy running into you here. I just had dinner in the restaurant. After hearing so many wonderful things about it, I simply had to experience the food.” The rest of the people who were walking through with her, continued out, and I realized that she wasn’t part of their group.
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