by Ann Collins
“I’ll get it.” He strode across the sitting room and leaned against the door. “Who’s there?”
“Harold Dolan,” came the doctor’s familiar voice.
Alex slowly opened the door, careful to check the hallway for anyone else. No one leaped out from around the corner, and he let the doctor pass. “Come in.”
“Dr. Dolan,” Julia said, stepping forward as Alex locked the door, “I didn’t expect to see you this evening.”
“I know, but I wanted to save you another trip to my office.” He carried his medical bag. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to accommodate you this afternoon. Mary told me you and Alex came by.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “You were busy with guests, and they come first.”
“Yes, there was quite a line of them waiting to see me.” His cheeks puffed as he blew out a breath. “Sunburn, scraped knees, and stomach ailments from overindulging in the dining room. Vacation complaints do add up.” He yawned. “All is well now, though, and I’m here to inspect your wound. I’ll change the dressing if necessary.”
“I appreciate your concern and diligence, Doctor, but you must be exhausted. Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“It could, but I’d feel more at ease once I’ve determined there’s no infection setting in.”
Alex put his arm around her shoulders. “By all means, Doc, take a look at it and do whatever you have to.”
She sighed. “I’ll go loosen my clothes in the bedroom and call you when I’m ready.” She turned to Alex, peering up at him with a beseeching look. “Would you please check on things downstairs for me?”
“I’d rather stay here and keep an eye on you.”
“I will be perfectly safe with Dr. Dolan, and I promise to keep the door locked. If you take the dishes down yourself, I won’t even have to open the door to a waiter.”
He rubbed his jaw. The woman certainly knew how to appeal to his rational side.
“I’ll sleep better knowing the hotel is running smoothly,” she added, though the sparkle in her eyes told him she had more than sleeping on her mind, which instantly made up his mind. The sooner he checked on the hotel, the sooner he could get back to her.
“All right. I’ll go, but, Doc, I’m counting on you to stay with Julia until I return.”
“I won’t leave her,” he promised.
Alex left the apartment a few minutes later and made his way downstairs. Though he balanced the tray with both hands, china and silver clinked with each step he took.
Inside the Crown Room, he handed off the tray to a waiter and quickly returned to the Rotunda. Everything seemed to be in order. Guests dressed in evening clothes milled about, some standing, some promenading on the gallery above, and some sitting on the red velvet banquettes conversing or spectating.
The clack of billiard balls drew his attention to the Ladies’ Billiard Room, which opened onto the Rotunda. Two women were playing, both of them laughing at each other’s shots. From the hallway leading to the Grand Ballroom came the sounds of the orchestra tuning their instruments.
Alex wandered up to Reginald O’Fallon, the night clerk on the registration desk. “Evening, Reg. Anything I need to report to Mrs. MacLean?”
The clerk gave him a little salute. “You can tell her it’s been a typical Saturday night. A lot of people came from San Diego for dinner and dancing. We’ve also had some walk-ins registering for rooms. She’ll be pleased with the evening’s receipts.”
“Yes, she will.” Not that it would matter if she couldn’t get another loan, though. Alex wished he had the money she needed. Tyler Wolff was the answer to her dilemma, but so far, she was stubbornly opposed to doing business with him. Alex couldn’t blame her.
When a man and woman stepped up to the desk, O’Fallon excused himself and went to assist them. Alex walked away and took one more look around the lively lobby. In the last few minutes, the noise level had risen as more people entered from the Crown Room.
He examined the smiling faces, then grunted when Alberta Hensley came out alone, spotted him, and waved. She wore a light purple dress with puffed sleeves the size of the huge vases on the sideboards. The diamond bracelet around her thick wrist glimmered brightly.
Alex waved back and scanned the room for the quickest way out.
But she moved too fast.
“Mr. MacLean,” she said, smelling, as usual, of too much lilac water, “please put my mind at rest. I heard a troubling rumor that your beautiful wife was injured yesterday in some sort of accident. Tell me it isn’t so.”
He purposely kept the scarred side of his face closest to her. “You don’t need to worry, Mrs. Hensley,” he said, hoping to forestall any further questions. “It was nothing serious. She was back in her office today.”
“Goodness, she is such a hard worker. So dedicated. I admire—”
Boisterous laughter rang out near the front entrance, and Alex turned, inadvertently showing Alberta the good side of his face. When the laughter died down, he looked back at her and knew he’d made a huge mistake.
She was staring up at him, mouth agape. Whatever color hadn’t been rouged into her cheeks was draining away.
Alex froze.
“You!” she spewed. Her color quickly returned and heightened. “I do know you! Alexander MacLean. Of course! How could I have forgotten?” She made no effort to keep her voice down and heads were turning their way. “You were married to Elizabeth Ellingson. You killed her.”
He flinched. “I did not kill Elizabeth,” he said through his teeth, keeping his voice low.
“That’s not what her parents said. Or the police or newspapers. You were jailed for it.” She fanned herself with her hands. “Does your current wife know what you did? No. Of course she doesn’t. I can see it in your eyes. A guilty man doesn’t advertise what he’s done.” She pressed her palm against her cheek. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you before now. Gerald and Amanda Ellingson are dear friends of mine. They were absolutely devastated by the deaths of their daughter and grandson. They wanted to see you hang.”
As if he didn’t know that. They had tried their best. In a sense, they had hanged him anyway.
“I wonder if they know where you are,” she said. “You’re very far from home.”
“This is my home now.”
Despite his being a foot taller than she, the woman managed to look down her nose at him. “And what a nice home it is. You married well. Again.”
Alex felt his blood surging through his veins. He forgot about the crowded lobby and stepped closer, looming over her. “Mrs. Hensley,” he growled, “you’d be wise to stay out of my business.”
She tilted her head way back and glared up at him, not giving an inch. “Your wife has a right to know the kind of man she married. Once she knows the truth, and it is my duty to tell her, she can have the marriage annulled.”
Alex felt a rising sense of panic. His life finally had purpose again. He had a beautiful, warm, intelligent, and passionate wife. His ability to design had returned, and he had a home. He couldn’t allow Alberta Hensley to ruin it all.
He clenched his fists. “Our marriage is none of your concern. You will say nothing.”
She crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Are you threatening me?”
He bent his head lower, crowding her so closely she finally took a step back. “Think whatever you want. Just don’t go near my wife.”
She raised her chin, harrumphed, and stalked off toward the elevator.
Alex scowled at the matronly busybody’s retreating backside. He may have won this skirmish, but not the battle. Mrs. Hensley would, if given the chance, tell Julia what he’d been trying so hard to put behind him.
He spun away from the noisy Rotunda, feeling as though he were back in his small, reeking prison cell. He had to get out of here and think.
He strode through the Garden Patio and ended up on the Paseo del Mar. The salt air entered his lungs. The ocean’s smell was potent as waves poun
ded the beach. He inhaled deeply. A beam from the lighthouse on Point Loma shone every few seconds across the water.
Eventually, the sea and shore calmed him. When he came to terms with what he knew he must do, he started for the hotel.
Chapter Sixteen
“There. All done.” Dr. Dolan snapped his medical bag shut. “You are healing nicely, Julia, and there’s no sign of infection. Just a bit of the oozing I mentioned before. The new dressing will help with that.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“No trouble at all. I’m very pleased with your progress.”
“Alex will be relieved. He’s been worried about infection.” She got up from the bed. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll straighten myself up in the bathroom.”
“Take your time.”
She crossed the room and closed the bathroom door behind her. As she refastened her corset, she wondered what was taking Alex so long. If some hotel-related issue had detained him, she should have been the one dealing with it.
While tucking her shirtwaist into her skirt and petticoat, she heard male voices—the doctor and someone who wasn’t Alex—coming from the sitting room.
Easing open the door, she listened. Alex wouldn’t be pleased when he found out Dr. Dolan had let someone into the apartment.
“Doctor, please, you must come,” the man said, sounding short of breath. “You’re needed immediately.”
Julia recognized the voice of Brian Pearson, one of her younger bellboys. Someone must be hurt.
“Calm yourself, man,” the doctor said. “Tell me what this is all about.”
She padded across the bedroom and peeked into the sitting room. Brian’s normally tanned face was flushed. He appeared distraught and disconcerted. He did not appear to be a cold, calculating murderer.
“What’s wrong, Brian?” she asked, entering the room.
“Mrs. MacLean.” He dragged his pillbox hat off his blond head. “I’m sorry to intrude, but the night clerk sent me after Dr. Dolan. I’m also to tell you about it.”
“About what?” She started to worry. “Has something happened to my husband?”
The bellboy’s sun-bleached eyebrows lifted high into his forehead. “No. Leastways, not that I know of. It’s the guest in room two twenty-eight. She’s dead.”
Julia clapped a hand to her mouth. “Mrs. Hensley?”
“That’s her. That’s the name Reg, uh, the clerk, gave me. He said she was old and it was probably just her time, but, following protocol, he telephoned Marshal Landis. He should be here soon.”
She had trouble believing that the woman who had demanded to see the manager the day she arrived, who had chased after Muffie in the park, could be dead. Despite her white hair, Mrs. Hensley hadn’t seemed all that old, but then, Julia knew her father hadn’t been terribly old when his heart stopped beating.
“Who found the body?” Dr. Dolan asked.
Brian pulled at the gold braid circling the cuff of his uniform’s sleeve. “Another guest from this floor. He told us Mrs. Hensley’s little dog was making such a ruckus he couldn’t sleep. He went to her door, found it ajar, and looked in.” Brian swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple twitched. “Apparently she’s on the floor in her sitting room. I haven’t been there myself.”
“And the dog?” Julia asked.
“Still yapping. I heard her all the way over here.”
“Poor Muffie. And poor Mrs. Hensley.” She grabbed her key off the parlor table. “I’ll come right away. Hopefully I can quiet the dog before too many guests complain.”
Dr. Dolan held up his hand. “Julia, there’s no need for you to leave the safety of this apartment. Marshal Landis and I will take care of the dog and situation. This isn’t the first death we’ve had here, and it won’t be the last.”
“I know, but I’m still the manager. I should be there.” She knew Alex wouldn’t want her to go, but she would be safe with the doctor and Tom. “Besides, you told Alex you would stay with me until he got back. Either you stay here with me, or I go with you.”
Dr. Dolan muttered something unintelligible. “Where is that husband of yours anyway? Shouldn’t he be back by now?”
“Brian,” she said, “did you see Mr. MacLean downstairs?”
“No, ma’am, but I’ve been pretty busy, it being a Saturday night.”
“Never mind. I’m sure he’s fine.” She prayed he was fine. Her assailant wouldn’t go after Alex, would he? She forced her fears from her mind. “I’ll leave a note so he’ll know where we are.”
While Dr. Dolan retrieved his medical bag, she went to the desk in her bedroom. She quickly wrote on a tablet of paper. We’ve gone to room 228. J.
Brian and the doctor preceded her out of the apartment. She laid the note on the parlor table and locked the door. “Brian, you may return to your duties downstairs.”
“Yes, Mrs. MacLean.” He hurried away.
She and Dr. Dolan, halfway to their destination, met up with Tom Landis. They exchanged stilted greetings amidst the yapping barks and occasional whines drifting through the corridor.
“I telephoned the coroner,” Tom said, “but it’ll be a few hours before he can get here. Doctor, if you could do a cursory examination of the body, I’d appreciate it. I don’t expect anything out of the ordinary.”
“Glad to oblige, Marshal.”
As they turned the corner, Julia cringed at the worsening noise of Muffie’s barking. Outside Mrs. Hensley’s room, at least ten guests dressed in evening clothes, nightshirts, and wrappers stood together at the open doorway, some with their hands over their ears.
“Everybody back!” Tom marched toward them. “Clear the way!”
They turned en masse, saw the gold star pinned to his blue uniform, and allowed him, herself, and the doctor to enter the room. Julia almost wished she hadn’t.
Mrs. Hensley, not yet retired for the night, wore a lavender evening dress and lay deathly still on the floral-patterned carpet. Though her hair was bound with pins on top of her head, many strands had come loose, some partially covering her grayish face. The room smelled of lilac water and death.
Julia felt her stomach twist. Perhaps even worse than seeing Mrs. Hensley’s body, though, was the sight of Muffie sitting vigil beside the older woman. The dog’s constant yapping was like the chanting of nonstop prayers.
Julia crouched a few feet away and reached her hand toward the tiny dog. “Come here, Muffie. It’s all right, girl. I’ll take care of you.”
Muffie stopped barking. A collective sigh from the hallway broke the sudden silence. The little dog would not leave her post, though.
Julia tried again, but Muffie stood her ground. When Dr. Dolan approached Mrs. Hensley’s body, the dog bared her sharp little teeth and growled.
He scuttled backwards.
“I’ll get a blanket and catch her,” Tom said. “She won’t hurt anyone that way.”
“Tom, no,” she said. “That would just upset her more. Let me try again.”
“Well, make it fast.”
Julia scooted close enough to touch the dog. “I know you’re upset, sweetheart. It’s okay.” She tentatively reached out her hand again.
The terrier whined.
“You’re a good girl. There’s no reason to bite the good doctor. He’ll be gentle with your ‘mother.’”
While Tom wandered around the room, she succeeded at rubbing between Muffie’s ears, then stroking the soft fur of her back, and finally picking her up. The poor thing’s body quivered. She huddled against Julia’s chest.
“Bravo, Julia,” Dr. Dolan said. As she stood and moved back to give him room, he knelt beside Mrs. Hensley, brushed her hair away from her face, and frowned.
“What is it?” Tom asked.
“Just a moment.” Dr. Dolan drew Mrs. Hensley’s high lace neckline lower and whistled under his breath. “Marshal, this woman did not die of natural causes. She was strangled.”
A gasp rose from the hallway.
Julia gasped
as well, then cringed, wishing Tom had closed the door. She’d been too intent on Muffie to think about privacy, and now it was too late.
“See the slight bruising on her throat?” He pointed it out to the marshal, who leaned over the body and nodded.
She didn’t want to look. This was a nightmare. Who could have done such a thing? The same man who shot her? But if it was, why go after Mrs. Hensley?
The doctor hoisted himself up. “Someone deliberately put his hands around this poor woman’s neck and killed her.”
“Someone strong.” Tom paced the length of the room. “Strong enough to immobilize a lady her size.” His gaze alighted on a sheet of hotel stationery lying on the desk. From where she stood, Julia could see that something was written on the paper, the beginnings of a letter. Tom picked it up and started reading. He smiled.
“Marshal?” A man dressed in evening clothes stood on the room’s threshold, his arm around a woman’s shoulders. “I’m George Farley. My wife and I are new arrivals at this hotel, and we saw a man arguing with that lady some thirty minutes or so ago in the lobby. We didn’t hear what was said, but the argument appeared to be heated. He stood over her in a threatening manner.”
“George!” His wife poked him in the stomach, her head swiveling between him and one end of the hall. “George, it’s him. The man from the lobby.”
George looked for himself and quickly turned back to Marshal Landis. “It is him.”
The crowd backed away from the doorway, out of someone’s way.
Julia stared, holding her breath and waiting. Had Mrs. Hensley’s killer dared to come back?
Alex filled the doorway.
Her breath escaped in a shocked rush. She whipped her gaze toward Tom.
Beneath his full mustache, the marshal smiled broadly, a satisfied glint in his eyes. “I’ve got you now, MacLean.” He chuckled, and the paper in his hand rustled. “You are hereby under arrest for the murder of Mrs. Alberta Hensley.”
* * *
Alex felt his mouth drop open. He forced it shut again and looked from Landis’s gloating expression to Julia’s blanched face to the lifeless body lying on the floor—Alberta Hensley’s. He could hardly take it in. Just a short time ago, she’d been full of righteous spit and vinegar. This was wrong. How could she be dead?