Dial 'M' for Maine Coon

by Alex Erickson

  I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant by that when my phone went off, startling me so badly, I leapt to my feet.

  “Sorry,” I said, yanking out my phone. Already, I was regretting carrying it with me instead of leaving it in the cupholder of my van like I used to. I was about to swipe CANCEL when I noted it was a local number I didn’t recognize. “One sec.” I turned away and accepted the call.

  “Liz? Thank heavens you answered.”

  “Erik?” I walked to the front door and lowered my voice. “Did something happen?” I couldn’t think of any other reason he’d call me.

  “Someone broke in here.” I could hear an edge of panic in his voice. “Someone broke into my hotel room while I was gone. The place . . . It’s a mess. What if they were looking for me?”

  “Stay calm,” I said. “Did you call the police?”

  “I . . .” He took a shuddering breath. “No. After what happened to Dad, I didn’t know what else to do. I think someone is after me, and I’m not sure if I can trust the police. And since you gave me your number, and you’ve dealt with the cops here, I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought.”

  “All right,” I said. I didn’t blame him for not trusting the police, not after hearing his mother’s story. Erik had probably asked himself the same sort of questions about them that I had. “Stay there. I’ll be right over.”

  “Thank you, Liz. I know I have no right to ask you for anything, but I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “No, I’m glad to help. Where are you staying?”

  He gave me an address. “I’ll wait in the lobby. I can’t stay in here. What if they’re watching the place?”

  “Stay calm,” I said again. “The lobby is good. Wait there and see if anyone appears out of place, like they’re waiting for something. Note anyone who looks at you funny, or threatens you. We can go from there once I arrive, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I clicked off and returned to the living room.

  “Everything all right?” Duke asked, rising.

  “I’m not sure.” I turned to Wayne. “I’m sorry, but something has come up and I have to go. Thank you for your time, Detective Hastings. You’ve been a big help.”

  “I wish I would have been of more help sooner,” he said, regret marring his voice. “Maybe then, poor Joe Danvers would still be alive.”

  17

  Erik was pacing outside the hotel doors when we arrived. His cell phone was in his hand and he kept looking at it like he was anxious to make a call, but couldn’t decide who to contact. As soon as he saw my van, he jogged across the lot, arms waving.

  “I haven’t seen anyone,” he said as I opened the door and stepped out. “At least, no one that looked at me funny. Well, a few people did, but that might be because I jumped at every loud noise.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry; I’m a wreck.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Anyone would be.”

  Erik started to speak, but when Duke came around the side of the van, he stiffened and took a step back. “Who are you?” He looked to me. “Who is he?”

  “He’s a friend,” I said. “Erik Deavers, this is Duke Billings. Think of him as our protection against anyone who would do us harm.”

  Some of the tension bled from Erik then. Duke wasn’t a small guy; he towered over the both of us, and could probably wrap us both in rib-crushing hugs if he wanted. I hoped his presence would keep whoever broke into Erik’s hotel room at bay.

  Duke held out a hand and Erik shook it. “I’m sorry for your loss. Liz has told me a little about you and what you’ve gone through.”

  “Thanks. It’s been rough.” Erik’s hand tightened on his phone before he shoved the device into his pocket. “I sometimes feel like I’m going crazy. I mean, who does this sort of thing to someone in mourning?”

  “Take us to your room,” I said, as calmly as I could. Erik sounded ready to flee the state. “You can explain what happened on the way.”

  Erik tapped his pocket, as if making sure his phone hadn’t gotten up and walked away before he motioned toward the hotel. “It’s this way.” He began walking.

  Duke and I shared a worried look before we followed after him.

  Erik didn’t speak until we were through the hotel doors. “There’s not much to say.” He led us to the elevator and pressed the button. “I was next door eating a late breakfast when it happened. There’s a diner I thought looked pretty good, so I went there instead of staying in my room like I usually would.”

  “Was it good?” Duke asked.

  Erik smiled briefly. “It was. I had the eggs Benedict. You should try it if you get a chance.”

  The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. Erik hit 4. The doors closed and we started up.

  “I took my time eating,” he went on. “I didn’t like the idea of spending the day in my room, even though that’s sort of my thing. There’s really no reason for me to stick around town, but I can’t seem to bring myself to leave. What if they find Dad’s killer? I think I need to be there for that, just in case the police need a statement from me or something.”

  “I understand,” I said. “I don’t think I could leave either, if it was my family.” And since Harry Davis claimed Erik was hanging around Joe’s place before Joe’s death, I doubted the police wanted him to go very far either.

  “So, I fiddled around with my phone, drank my coffee, and watched the world pass me by. It was relaxing, I guess. I didn’t realize how tense I’d become over the last few days.”

  The elevator stopped, the doors slid open, and we stepped out into an empty hallway. Erik turned to the right, so Duke and I followed.

  “I didn’t realize anything was wrong until I stepped into my room,” he said. “Everyone here has been nothing but nice to me, so why would I worry? The door was closed, and as far as I could tell from out here, no one had been here.” We stopped in front of room 412. He swiped his keycard and pushed open the door. “Then . . . this.” We stepped inside.

  The room was a mess. The television, the lamps, and anything breakable was still where it should be. But everything else, including Erik’s personal belongings, was tossed to the floor. Drawers were hanging open, Erik’s suitcase was overturned, and his clothes were strewn across the room. The bed had been stripped, and the mattress was standing on its side against the wall.

  I jumped as the door swung closed behind us.

  “I haven’t touched anything,” Erik said. “This is exactly how I found it.”

  Duke stepped over a pillow to peer into the bathroom. “It’s the same in here. Room’s been trashed.”

  I eased through the main room, taking it all in. It appeared whoever broke in was careful not to make too much noise. The clock was still plugged in and was sitting atop the nightstand. An old iPod was charging on the dock pushed to the back of the desk. While the drawers and suitcase had been emptied, Erik’s things looked to have been piled up and then shoved over, rather than tossed.

  “Can you tell if anything is missing?” I asked, though I doubted it. A thief would have snagged the iPod.

  “I’m not sure,” Erik said. I noted he had yet to move from in front of the door. “I’m too afraid to look.”

  Duke moved to the window and glanced outside. “It overlooks the parking lot. And look.” He pointed.

  I glanced outside. The Sunny Side Diner could be seen from the window. I assumed it was the diner Erik had mentioned. I turned to him. “When you left, did you leave the curtains open?”

  “No.” Erik frowned. “I always keep them closed when I’m in a hotel. I don’t like the idea of anyone being able to look in at me.”

  Duke checked the window, but it was made of solid glass built into the frame. It couldn’t be opened, not that anyone would try to sneak out of it. There was no balcony, and we were four stories up. That’d be a long drop for anyone.

  “Whoever broke in here knew you weren’t going to be in the
room,” I said. “They were looking for something, but what?” I looked to him, hoping for an answer.

  Erik merely shrugged. “I have no idea. I only brought a couple things with me, and very little of it is of value.”

  “Did you ever go into Joe’s house?” I asked, thinking that maybe the intruder thought he’d taken something that might tie him to the murder.

  “No. I never worked up the nerve, and by the time I did . . .”

  His dad was dead.

  I walked slowly through the room, but I had no idea what I was looking for. It was obvious the intruder didn’t want to be caught. He or she opened the curtains so they could keep an eye on Erik. If they took too long, they could make their escape the moment they saw him leave the diner. Did that mean there was more than one person involved? The bathroom didn’t have a window, so if they trashed it too, it would have left them vulnerable without someone else watching for Erik.

  “Did you walk to the diner?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It’s not far.”

  Which meant the intruder had more than enough time to get out of the room, and very likely out of the hotel, once they saw Erik was returning.

  “Think carefully,” I said. “When you left, did you see anyone at all hanging around in the lobby? Or maybe the parking lot? What about when you got back? Was anyone leaving the hotel? Or did you see someone both when you left and then again when you returned? Whoever did this might not have been familiar with you, or acted like they were interested in you in any way, but they knew when you left, and were watching for your return.”

  “I . . .” Erik scowled. “I can’t remember.” He made a frustrated sound. “There were people, but I wasn’t paying attention to anyone.”

  “You should call the police,” Duke said. “This might not have anything to do with you or your father.”

  “You think it might have been a random break-in?” I asked, trying hard not to think about Jack Castle.

  “It fits just as much as anything else,” Duke said. “Erik is new to town, so no one really knows him. No threats were made. Nothing is broken. The door didn’t appear to be jimmied, and there’s no other way in.”

  “But nothing was taken,” I said, indicating the iPod. “Why break in if not to steal something?”

  “I don’t know,” Duke said. “This could be about something else entirely. Think about it. Place is destroyed with no note, no indication as to how anyone got in. I bet they had a key.”

  “You think a hotel employee did this?” Erik asked.

  Duke spread his hands. “Right now, with what we know, I’d say it’s likely that if they didn’t do it themselves, they assisted whoever did. And if not, then someone might have cloned the key somehow and has been trashing rooms for fun for months. You should call the cops and let them sort it out.”

  “Yeah. All right.” Erik blew out his lip in a huff. “I’m sorry I dragged you all the way down here for this. I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “I’m happy you thought of me,” I said. “If anything else happens, don’t hesitate to call.”

  Erik nodded and pulled out his phone. Duke and I left him to make the call.

  “How well do you know him?” Duke asked as we rode the elevator back down to the lobby.

  “Not too well,” I said. “He seems like a good person, though.” Though he had followed me around town and had called my house only to breathe heavily into the phone. That didn’t make someone a bad guy, did it?

  “Just . . .” He frowned, looked away. “Just be careful.”

  “Why?”

  Duke didn’t respond right away. We stepped off the elevator when it stopped, crossed the lobby, and were halfway to the van before he answered.

  “Sometimes, people look for attention and manufacture ways to get it when they can’t come by it naturally. I’d make sure he is who he says he is before you take him at his word.” He glanced at me. “He might be a good person, might be the man he claims to be, but if he’s not, you should be prepared.”

  I climbed into my van and then looked toward Erik’s room. The curtains were still hanging open, and I thought I saw him moving around inside, but couldn’t be sure. Unless the intruder was standing directly in front of the window, Erik wouldn’t have been able to see them on his way back from the diner.

  If there even was an intruder.

  “I’ll be careful,” I said with a slight shudder. Could Erik Deavers be lying to me? Was it only about the room? Or could Duke be right, and he wasn’t who he said he was?

  I was quiet all the way to Duke’s house. He let me think, though he did shoot worried glances at me every now and again. I desperately wished I could reassure him, but I couldn’t. What did I really know about everyone involved in the murder? I mean, both Joe and Christine had used multiple aliases. What made me think Erik was any different?

  “Call me if you need me again,” Duke said when I pulled up in front of his house. “It looks like I have some free time coming up.”

  I nodded absently, barely hearing him. I kept thinking about how Erik and I had met, how he’d followed me home, how he’d called me without speaking. That was stalker behavior, wasn’t it? And while he had a perfectly rational explanation for it, I couldn’t simply take him at his word.

  Of course, there was one person I knew who knew how to do proper background checks. I could no longer trust myself, not after Joe.

  I left Duke at his house, and then headed downtown. I found a parking spot across the street from Chester’s office. It took some work to maneuver my van into the space, since the cars in front of and behind me were nearly sitting on the lines, but I managed. I’d just put the van into park when someone darted in between the tiny space between my front bumper and the bumper of the Cadillac in front of me.

  It was Harry Davis.

  I scrambled out of my van, intent on catching him before he reached Chester’s office, but I was cut off by a flood of traffic. I watched, unable to stop him, as Harry burst into the office, already shouting.

  Amelia!

  I scanned the street, but didn’t see her car. I hoped she and Maya had decided to work from Maya’s place this morning.

  I waited until there was a break in the traffic, and then I ran across the street as fast as my legs would take me. I took the handful of stairs that led to Chester’s office door by twos, and then burst in about thirty seconds after Harry.

  “I will kill you!” Harry had Chester backed into a corner. His fists were bunched, but I was thankful to note he didn’t appear to have a weapon on him.

  “Calm down,” Chester said, hands outstretched in a warding-off gesture. “Please, Harry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You have someone following me! I saw them.” He raised a fist as if he might throw a punch, but thought better of it. “They thought they were being careful, but I’m not stupid. I saw them. I know they’re working for you.”

  “I don’t have anyone following you, Harry,” Chester said. “If I need someone followed, I do it myself.”

  “You lie.” He snarled the word and pressed closer to Chester. “No one else would have me followed. You and your vendetta against all that’s good in this town has gone too far.”

  Vendetta? I wondered, but I couldn’t just stand there and let Harry intimidate the PI, no matter the reason. I planted my feet, just in case Harry decided to charge me like a bull, and shouted, “Stop it right now or I’m going to call the cops.”

  Harry wheeled around, eyes blazing. “This is none of your business, you—” He gnashed his teeth, wisely keeping whatever he’d been about to say to himself.

  “You’re threatening my friend,” I said, taking a step closer to Harry, even though a voice in the back of my mind was screaming at me to run. “I don’t like it when people threaten my friends.”

  Harry laughed. “And you’re going to stop me?”

  “If I have to.”

  Chester eased out of the corner and moved to one of
the desks in the room. He didn’t reach for a drawer, but his eyes flickered to one. It made me wonder if he had a gun tucked away in there.

  “So, it’s okay for you people to interfere in my life?” he asked. “I’m not allowed to stand up for myself?”

  “You are,” I said. “But threats aren’t the way to do it.” And then I took a shot in the dark. “Breaking into people’s hotel rooms isn’t either.”

  Harry’s brow furrowed. “What?”

  “Erik Deavers, the man you fingered for Joe’s murder. His hotel room was ransacked this morning. Where were you when it happened?”

  Harry looked from me, to Chester, and then back again. “What?”

  “The room was trashed. Was it a threat?”

  “I didn’t break into a hotel room, woman. Are you off your meds?”

  “Did you know that Christine Danvers was still alive?” I asked, abruptly switching topics. “Why did you blame Joe for killing her? Do you find lying fun?”

  “I . . .” Harry took a step back. For the first time, I saw cracks in his anger. “I saw what I saw.”

  “Did you?” I asked. “Because, quite frankly, I don’t believe you saw a thing. Did he do something to you and you figured accusing him of murdering his wife was a good way to get back at him?”

  “I saw what I saw,” Harry said again, jaw firming. “Facts are facts.”

  “You like to say that, don’t you?” I said. “But your facts don’t seem to align with other people’s concept of the idea.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, and I had a feeling he didn’t quite understand my statement.

  “Maybe you’re just trying to protect someone.” I took another step closer to him, which did nothing to ease the tension zipping through me. Even my skin felt tighter. “Maybe Martin Castor had something to do with Christine fleeing, and with Joe’s death. What do you think?”

  Harry paled at mention of Martin’s name. A second passed. Then two.

  “You’d better leave me be,” he said, wheeling on Chester. “Keep out of my life.” He pushed past me and ran out the door. I wondered if he was running to Martin to tell him what had just happened.