“Why didn’t you go to the police when you realized you were responsible?” the detective asked.
“My son was only sixteen at the time. He’d just lost his mother, I didn’t want him to lose his father too. I kept waiting for someone to find me, but no one did. I cleaned up the car, sold it, got help for my drinking problem, then moved us down here for a fresh start.”
“Is that what the PI was talking to you about in that video I showed you?” Rory said as she stepped inside the ballroom.
Ian jumped at her sudden appearance, then nodded. “The woman’s family hired someone to find out what happened since the police hadn’t had any luck. A witness had moved to Vista Beach, so the investigator in Seattle contacted Oscar Carlton to re-interview her in case she remembered something else. Apparently, she did.”
“Instead of telling the PI in Seattle, Oscar decided a little blackmail was in order,” Rory said. “That’s what Jasmine overheard, wasn’t it? Him blackmailing you.”
“That’s right.” Ian looked at Nixie then took a deep breath. “And that’s why I killed her.”
Chapter 22
Rory gaped at the hotel manager, not quite believing the search for Jasmine’s killer was over. Liz poked her head around the door and said in a soft voice so only Rory could hear, “Did Ian just confess?”
Nixie stared uncertainly at him. “Ian? What are you talking about?” She touched his arm as if to make sure this was real and not some dream she’d conjured up.
Ian squared his shoulders. “That’s right. I killed Jasmine. She knew about the accident and threatened to go to the police. I tried to buy her off like I did that PI, but she refused. So...I killed her.” He said the last few words without a trace of emotion. The man appeared to have regretted his being involved in the hit-and-run more than giving an overdose to an innocent person.
“How? How did you kill her?” Detective Green’s words challenged the man to prove he was telling the truth, as if the police officer didn’t quite believe his confession.
“I’m not saying anything else until I talk to a lawyer.” Ian turned to Nixie. “Can you let Nell know what happened and tell her she’s in charge now? And call my lawyer. His number is in my office. Nell will show you where to find it.” He held out his wrists. “Okay, I’m ready. Cuff me.”
As soon as Detective Green led Ian away, Nixie awakened from her shock. “I’d better take care of getting that lawyer. I’ll deal with the rest of the booths later. Something tells me we won’t be on schedule, anyway.” Disbelief radiating from her eyes, the convention organizer headed out the ballroom door.
Rory and Liz made their way back to the trade show floor, each returning to the booth she was in before the commotion started.
When Rory reached her destination, Hulbert pulled her aside. “What was that about?”
“Ian’s been arrested for a hit-and-run in Seattle and...” she paused, unsure how to break the news to him. “Jasmine’s murder.”
“What?” He sank down onto the chair next to the cash register. “He killed our Jasmine?”
“That’s what he said. I heard it with my own ears.”
Hulbert shook his head and stared down at the floor. Finally, he looked at Rory and said, “I’d better go tell Viveca what happened before she finds out from someone else, but I’m worried about the booth. Aren’t you supposed to go over to Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint soon?”
“Maybe we can work something out.” After consulting with her mother, Rory returned to the VivEco booth and said to Hulbert, “Go. Take care of Viveca. My mom says I can stay here until you get back.” He left the floor, and she settled down in the chair next to the cash register. A sudden flurry of customers kept her busy for the next ten minutes.
Once the rush was over, Liz walked across the aisle. “Do you think Ian really did it?” she said.
Rory sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “It would be nice to have it all over with, but I’m not really convinced. I guess Ian could have set off the alarm so he’d have time to plant the medicine in Jasmine’s soda.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “The bottle. I don’t think Detective Green knows about the bottle yet. I tried earlier, but he was busy. I left him a message.”
“You found her bag, then?”
“Someone brought it up to her room. I’d better call him again. He might need it to verify Ian’s story.”
“If they find his prints on it, that’s that, and we’ll know for sure.”
Rory dialed the detective’s number and left a message on his voicemail reminding him about the bottle and where he could find it.
“There, that’s done,” she said. “I still think the killer dressed in coveralls and set off the alarm so there’d be a chance to dose Jasmine’s bottle. I’m not sure Ian could have done it. He was in a suit at the front desk when we were evacuating the hotel. I saw him there. I doubt he would have had time to strip out of the coveralls and get to the lobby before someone missed him.”
“He could have paid someone to set it off for him,” Liz pointed out. “Or maybe he didn’t need to pay anyone. He’s the manager. He could have told one of his employees it was a surprise test or something and that no one should know about it.”
“Let me get this straight. Ian set off the alarm, or convinced someone to set off the alarm. When he’s going through the ballrooms, ostensibly to make sure everyone evacuated, he puts the medicine in Jasmine’s soda bottle.”
Liz nodded. “He knows which bottle is hers because he recognizes her roller bag. She did have her name painted on it.”
“Then he goes about his business and waits for her to collapse in class. But how did he even know she was drinking a soda?”
“Could have seen her buy it in the gift shop. Same is true for everyone else.”
“But what if she’d taken the soda with her? What then?” Rory asked.
“He would have simply tried some other time. Did he look surprised when you told him what happened?” Liz said. “You were the one who alerted him to Jasmine’s collapse and told him paramedics had been called.”
Rory cast her mind back to the moment she’d run down the hall toward the convention office, but couldn’t recall many details. She’d been in such a panic, the time was just a blur in her memory. “I really can’t remember. I found Ian and Nixie together in the convention office. Beyond that, I don’t know.” She thought about it some more. “Let’s say he’s telling the truth. He’d have to have some sort of container to put the medicine in. The bottle was found in her hotel room.”
Liz shrugged. “Or he put it back in her room afterwards. He’s the hotel manager. He has access to all the rooms. No one would think twice about him going into any one of them. He could’ve been checking on some problem. But how did he know about Jasmine’s medicine in the first place? He knew about her condition, of course. You told me he witnessed that cataplectic attack.”
“Peter called the hotel and informed the staff about Jasmine’s narcolepsy. He also gave them a list of her medications. Ian mentioned it when I saw him in the lobby Monday evening.” Rory screwed up her face in concentration. “Maybe if we looked at that video ourselves we could figure out if he was the one wearing the coveralls.”
“He confessed. Why are we even bothering to look into it?”
“Because I’m not sure I believe him. The hit-and-run, that I believe. Killing Jasmine, not so much.” Rory looked at her friend. “Did you ever get the name of Veronica’s source for the hotel footage?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. Something about protecting her sources.”
“I’ll have a run at her later, see what I can find out.”
Liz looked at her watch. “I have to get going. I’m helping with a class. Do you know what we need? Distraction. We don’t have anything planned for tonight. How about we get dressed up and go out. Let’s meet in the lobby at seven.”
Rory nodded her head in agreement. After everything that had happened, she could use some fun. She spent the
next two hours splitting her time between the two booths. The hotel manager’s confession was the talk of the trade show floor. Since she’d been present when the police arrested him, she spent more time answering questions about what had happened than ringing up purchases.
As soon as she finished work and her last class was over, Rory drove home to change. Wearing a casual summer dress and two-inch heels, she met Liz in the Akaw’s lobby precisely at seven. After a quiet dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant, they headed back to the hotel.
“We’re all dressed up and it’s not that late. We can’t waste this.” Liz gestured toward the dresses both of them were wearing. Her face turned thoughtful, then burst into a smile. “I know! Let’s go to a nightclub. I want to shake my booty!”
“You’ve had way too much caffeine. And I don’t know how to dance.”
“You just move your body in time to the music.” Liz demonstrated, moving her arms and gyrating her hips to an imaginary song only she could hear.
Rory couldn’t help laughing. “I don’t think I can do that. Isn’t there somewhere else we can go?”
Liz furrowed her brow in thought. “I know, how about karaoke? There’s a bar near here that has it on Saturday nights. It’s right up your alley. You spent all those years in your church choir, so you’re used to singing in public.”
“That’s not quite the same thing. It was a long time ago, and I wasn’t particularly good at it.”
“No one cares. Come on!” Liz pulled on Rory’s arms. “The murderer’s in jail. We helped figure out who did it. You can shed all those doubts you have and think about it all again tomorrow. Let’s see if anyone at the hotel wants to join us.”
“Okay, okay, but I’m not going up by myself. We have to do a duet.” Rory followed her friend down the street as she danced her way toward the Akaw. When they reached the hotel lobby, Liz explained their plans to several painting friends who were milling around, looking for some way to spend the rest of the evening. Before long, she’d added a half dozen karaoke converts to the group, including Mel and Stella.
The group streamed out of the front door of the Akaw, and with Liz enthusiastically leading the way, walked the five blocks to a bar on Main Street that had karaoke on Saturday evenings.
By the time they arrived at their destination, Rory was looking forward to sitting down and resting her feet for a minute. She wasn’t used to walking in heels, no matter how low they were. Tennis shoes were her footwear of choice. She didn’t know how Liz managed to balance on her stilettos, let alone walk and dance in them.
Strains of “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head” reached their ears as the group entered the bar. The place was packed with people of varying ages, from middle-aged locals to young college students. The painting group snagged two tables together that a large bachelorette party had recently vacated. Half the patrons around them listened to a forty-something man belt out a competent version of the B.J. Thomas hit while the other half carried on their own conversations.
Everyone applauded when the man came to the end of the song. After explaining to the newcomers this was sixties night, the karaoke host called up the next group to the stage. Rory had grown up listening to music from that decade, so she was familiar with most of the songs. A mother and daughter who were part of a birthday celebration began a rendition of “It’s My Party,” the daughter occasionally messing up the unfamiliar lyrics.
“I’m going to get a glass of wine. Does anyone else want anything?” Rory asked everyone at her table. She took an order from Mel, but the rest of the group opted to get their own drinks. Rory headed to the bar where a number of college-aged students had gathered. She elbowed her way through the crowd to the front and ordered. While she waited for her drinks, she struck up a conversation with a young woman standing beside her, waiting for her own order.
“Riverside?” Rory nodded toward a blue keychain attached to the college student’s purse. “I graduated from there.”
The girl nodded. “What was your major?”
“Computer Science. What about you?”
“Me too!” They were soon chatting away like old friends, talking about professors and classes. When the student’s drink arrived, instead of paying for it and leaving, the girl drew a coaster out of her purse, dipped a finger in her drink, and rubbed it on two spots on the four-inch by four-inch square.
“What’s that for?” Rory nodded toward the coaster.
The girl looked around and lowered her voice. “It tests for the presence of GHB and ketamine in drinks. Can’t be too careful these days.” She nodded to the spots where she’d applied the liquid. “Nothing changed, so the drink’s okay. The spots turn dark blue if the liquid you’re testing has one of those drugs in it.” She looked pointedly at the margarita and glass of Pinot Grigio the bartender had placed on the counter. “You should get some coasters. There’s a pharmacy in town here that carries them.” She mentioned its name and the street it was on, then left to join her friends who’d moved over to a nearby table.
Rory paid for her drinks and returned to her own table, thinking about what the student had told her. Better to be safe than sorry, she thought, but she felt sad that female students felt the need to test the drinks they ordered in public places.
“What are you looking so serious about?” Liz asked when Rory sat down. “You’re not still thinking about the case, are you? You’re supposed to be having fun!”
Rory smiled. “Sorry. Did you sign us up to sing?”
“Don’t worry, we’re on the list. There are several people before us.” When the karaoke host called the next name, Liz clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, Mel’s up!” During the song, Stella motioned Liz over to her table.
As she listened to Mel’s rendition of “It’s in His Kiss,” Rory couldn’t help wondering if the woman was thinking about her good-looking boyfriend while she sang.
After the song was over, Rory joined in on the applause and congratulated Mel on her performance as soon as she sat down. “Too bad your boyfriend wasn’t here to see it.”
Mel blushed. “I’m not sure I’d have had the courage to sing that in front of him.”
“Something tells me he’d enjoy it.”
“Thanks for making me feel so welcome here at the convention. I really appreciate it. I’m glad Martin gave me that gift certificate for your mother’s store. I hadn’t really thought about taking up painting until he did.”
“And I’m glad you were there when Jasmine collapsed. Don’t know what we would have done without you,” Rory said. “Why did you decide to become a paramedic, anyway?”
“I was in a bad car accident when I was a teenager. My cousin was driving. She was barely eighteen and hadn’t had her license for very long. It was raining and dark. She lost control on a curve. Paramedics saved my life, so I decided that’s what I wanted to be when I grew up.”
“What about your cousin?” Rory asked softly, suspecting what the answer would be.
Mel looked down into her drink. “She wasn’t so lucky, but the driver who caused the accident got off without a scratch.” For a moment, anger suffused the woman’s face.
“I’m sorry.” As they listened to the next singer, Rory searched her mind for a more pleasant topic of conversation. “So, was it love at first sight? You and Detective…uh, Martin?” she found herself saying. “Or is that too personal?”
“You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?” Mel studied her as if searching for the truth in her eyes.
Rory looked down at her drink, avoiding the other woman’s steady gaze.
“Don’t worry. It’s okay. Who wouldn’t be? He’s a handsome man.” Mel laughed. “We’re enjoying spending time together. This is the second time around for us, so it’s familiar.”
“That’s right, you mentioned that when we met. If you don’t mind my asking, why did you break up?”
“I moved away for a while and we just...drifted apart. We each met other people.” Mel took a sip of her marg
arita. “We’ll see what happens this time around. I don’t think he’s eager to get too serious after, you know, what happened to his wife.”
“His wife? He was married?” She shouldn’t be so shocked, Rory thought. She didn’t know his exact age, but the detective must be in his thirties. He was bound to have had several serious relationships over the years. But, somehow, she’d never pictured him with a wife.
Mel looked as surprised as Rory felt. “You didn’t know?”
Rory shook her head. “News to me. What happened to her?”
“He doesn’t really like to talk about it. She passed away. You’ll have to ask him the rest.”
Before Rory could find out anything else, Liz ran up to the table and grabbed her friend’s arm. “Come on, we’re up next.”
Once the two were on the stage, they enthusiastically belted out “I Got You Babe.” Liz took Sonny’s part while Rory took Cher’s, flinging her long hair in Cher fashion at the appropriate times in the song. As she sang, she forgot all about the detective’s love life and her friend’s murder.
A couple hours later, the group returned to the hotel. As she walked through the automatic doors into the lobby, Rory glanced toward the Wave. Nixie sat by herself at one of the tables, staring at a glass of white wine in front of her. Rory said goodnight to those who were staying at the hotel, tilted her head toward the bar, and whispered to Liz that she would be right back.
She walked up to the table and gestured toward an empty chair. “Hi, Nixie, can I join you for a moment?”
The woman nodded her agreement, barely looking up from her contemplation of the glass of wine.
“How’s Ian? Is he okay?” Rory asked. “Have you been able to see him?”
“He’s in jail, how can anything be okay? I got him a lawyer, at least.”
“That’s good to hear.” Rory nodded toward the glass of wine. “Should you be drinking that?”
Paint the Town Dead Page 16