Sweet Hide and Seek (A Sweet Cove Mystery Book 9)

by J A Whiting

  “What?” Jenna looked into the rearview mirror to see her sister’s face. “She said that?”

  Angie nodded. “Ellie finds it suspicious that the man died shortly after arranging a meeting with the police. If foul play isn’t involved, then Ellie thinks that whatever was on the psychic’s mind worried him to death.”

  “I agree with her.” Courtney glanced back at Angie. “Mr. Finch and I are suspicious as well. This sort of thing often happens in the crime shows we watch.”

  “It’s kind of far-fetched. How would someone know that the psychic contacted the police?” Angie was skeptical that someone had killed the man to keep him quiet.

  “Easy.” Courtney pointed at the upcoming exit. “Maybe someone in the police department can’t be trusted. Maybe that person told someone that the psychic had called. Maybe that person doesn’t want any new information coming to light about Richard. Maybe the psychic confided his new information to someone who had something to do with Richard’s disappearance.”

  “I can’t believe that’s what happened.” Angie shook her head. “He most certainly died of natural causes.”

  “Did the psychic live in Mill City?” Jenna eased the car onto the exit ramp.

  “The chief said he did.” Angie watched the scenery pass by. “Are psychics more prevalent than we think? Are psychics walking around in every town and city? Do we pass them on the street all the time?”

  “And I thought we were special.” Courtney harrumphed. “The psychic lived in the same city as the missing man. Maybe they have the same friends or acquaintances so that would make it easy to spill information to the wrong person.”

  Jenna’s eyes widened. “Richard Connors might have found out that the psychic had important information and was about to talk to police. He might have returned to Mill City and killed him.”

  “First we need to hear from Chief Martin if the police in Mill City suspect foul play.” Angie’s first impulse was to dismiss the notion that the psychic met his death at the hands of someone involved with Richard Connors. “If the psychic died under odd circumstances, then maybe we can visit his wife and ask her what she knows.”

  “A visit to the wife might be helpful even if the psychic died of natural causes,” Jenna pointed out. “His wife might know something. We might be able to find out why the man wanted to speak to the police again.”

  “Good thinking.” Angie looked out the window as they passed a strip mall and some fast food restaurants. The branches of the few trees standing here and there were bare and some small grimy snow piles could be seen at the corners of parking lots. The sky was slate gray and the light levels were low from the heavy cloud cover.

  Courtney spotted a rundown, one level motel coming up on the right side. “There’s the motel up ahead.” A metal sign was screwed to the front of the place and some of the lit-up letters had burned out so that the words “Beacon Motel” seemed to spell “Bacon Mol.”

  Jenna pulled into the lot and parked the car in a spot near the reception door. The sisters sat looking around for a few moments before getting out. The place had seen better days. There were about twenty rooms in the L-shaped motel with the doors to the rooms opening directly out to the parking lot. Paint was peeling, a few shutters hung askew, and the windows looked grimy.

  “Not a five-star hotel,” Courtney noted.

  “I’m not sure it would earn one-star.” Jenna scowled at the condition of the place. “Let’s get this over with and get out of here.”

  When they opened the front door a bell jangled, and the chubby man behind the desk startled awake. The man’s round cheeks resembled those of a squirrel whose mouth was filled with nuts. Rubbing his eyes, he pushed himself up and mumbled hello. His eyebrows shot up when he saw the three young women before him. “Are you checking in?” The desk clerk’s tone was one of disbelief.

  Angie smiled and approached the desk where she placed the large manila envelope containing the pictures and snapshots of Richard Connors. “We wondered if we could show you some photos of someone. The man has been missing for months and his family is very concerned about him. It seems that his credit card was used to pay for a room here not long ago.” She told the man the date that the credit card was charged for the motel room. “Were you working that night by any chance?”

  The desk clerk blubbered something incomprehensible as he checked the large calendar that covered his desk. “That was a Thursday. I always work on Thursdays.”

  “Great.” Courtney gave the man a warm smile. “It would be a big help if you could look at the pictures we brought. Maybe you might recognize the man.”

  The clerk’s thinning red hair was combed-over and plastered to his head. “I could take a look. Can’t make any promises though. We get a lot of folks in who stay only one night. There’s a lot of turnover here. I don’t remember most people unless there’s something that stands out about them.”

  Angie opened the envelope and shook it slightly to empty the photos onto the countertop. She moved them around so that they faced the desk clerk.

  The man put on reading glasses and screwed up his face as he looked from one photo to the next, each one showing a smiling, athletic, nicely-dressed Richard Connors. Glancing up, the clerk looked over the rims of his glasses. “This guy doesn’t look like most of our clientele, you know. We get guys like this in here, but it’s the woman he’s with who does the check-in and registration. The guy sits in the car.”

  Jenna nodded. “This man might not look quite the same way that he used to. He might have dyed his hair and let it grow. He’s probably dressing down, jeans, a work shirt, things like that.”

  “I’d like to help you gals, but I don’t know. I don’t recognize this dude.”

  The sisters knew it was a long shot for Richard Connors to be recognized.

  “The credit card he used that night has the name Richard Connors on it.” Angie looked hopefully at the clerk. “Do you recall that name?”

  “That’s a pretty simple name. Nothing about it stands out.”

  “Did you have a lot of people checking in that night?” Jenna asked.

  “One night is the same as the others.” The clerk raised a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t pay much attention. I take the cash or run the credit card and give them the key, that’s it. Unless someone causes commotion, then I sit quietly in here.”

  The sisters were about to thank the man for his help when something caught Courtney’s eye at the top of the wall near the ceiling behind the desk. Her heart skipped a beat. “Is that a security camera?”

  The desk clerk glanced over his shoulder to the ceiling. “Yeah.”

  Angie’s heart started to race. “Does it work or is it a fake?”

  The desk clerk looked slightly offended by Angie’s suggestion that the device might not be the real thing. “Of course it works.”

  “How many days of film does it record?” Courtney had to hold herself back from leaping over the counter.

  “Two weeks.”

  “Can you look through the film? Can you show it to us?” Angie was so excited that she almost crushed the photo she was holding in her hand.

  “We’re not supposed to do that.” The clerk had a grave expression on his face.

  “What if we made it worth the trouble?” Jenna took her wallet out of her bag. “We know it would be a pain. We’d be more than happy to pay you for your time.”

  The guy’s eyes widened when he saw Jenna’s wallet. “I’m only supposed to show the film to the cops, you know. Not regular people.”

  “We’re consultants with the Sweet Cove, Massachusetts Police Department,” Courtney announced in an official sounding voice. “You can call the number there and ask for Chief Martin if you’d like to verify our affiliation.”

  The clerk blinked several times and then pushed himself out of his seat. “I don’t need to call. I didn’t realize you were with the police. Hold on and I’ll get the tape from the camera.” The man scurried away to the back ro
om to get a step ladder.

  The sisters high-fived each other.

  “This could be a break.” Courtney rubbed her hands together.

  “Good eyes, Sis.” Jenna patted her youngest sister’s back. “I never would have noticed the camera.”

  The clerk came back carrying the step stool which he placed against the wall and shakily started up the few steps with one hand on Courtney’s shoulder to steady himself. After a couple of minutes of stretching for the device and puffing like he’d just run a marathon, the clerk stepped down from the stool with the camera in his hand, a triumphant look on his face. The sisters applauded the man’s mighty effort.

  The desk clerk opened the camera. “See, it’s not really film. It’s a DVD thingy.” He sat down in his chair and rolled it over to the desk where he inserted the object into the disc drive on the computer. After some clicking with his mouse, a grainy image showed on the screen. “Here we go. It takes a while. It’s an old computer.”

  The three young women gathered around behind the man to watch the black and white images move across the screen. Most of the video showed the desk clerk asleep in his chair.

  “Can we fast forward to the right date?” Jenna asked.

  “Nuh-uh. If we do that, the screen goes dark.” The screen already looked pretty dark to the Roselands. It was more like watching shadows move around than actual humans.

  Angie leaned closer. Sometimes the screen grew brighter and some facial features of a customer at the registration counter were visible. An hour of torture passed with all four of them watching the video. Courtney had been to the vending machine several times to buy bags of potato chips and corn chips which she shared with her sisters and the desk clerk. Crumbs and empty chip bags were strewn over the reception desk when, at last, the date of Richard Connors’s supposed visit to the motel appeared on the screen.

  Three men and two women registered separately that night. One of them had the body type of Connors so the clerk stopped the progression of the video so the sisters could stare at the man’s face which was dark and fuzzy.

  “I don’t know.” Courtney sighed and stood straight rubbing her eyes. “It’s too grainy to make anything out.”

  “Maybe the police could take the disc and do something to it to make it clearer.” Angie’s back was stiff and sore from hunching forward to see the images.

  “Can’t give it to you.” The clerk shook his head sadly. “I’d need a detective to ask for it.”

  “Can you keep it safe for us?” Jenna looked at the man. “Could you put it somewhere safe until the police can come up and get it?”

  “I’ll put it in the safe.” The man extracted the DVD from the computer and slid it into an envelope.

  The girls thanked the man warmly and headed for the door when the clerk spoke up. “Can I answer any more questions?”

  “You’ve been a big help.” Angie smiled at him and thanked the clerk again. “But I guess that’s all we need for now.”

  The desk clerk’s pudgy cheeks tinged pink and his face seemed to fall in disappointment. “Come back anytime. I liked helping you.”

  When they stepped outside, a biting cold wind blasted across the open parking lot as the young women climbed into Jenna’s car and slammed the doors.

  Sitting in the front passenger seat, Courtney looked through the windshield at the entrance to the motel’s reception desk. “You know, when we first got here I didn’t think that guy was going to be any help. I was wrong. He wasn’t at all what he seemed.”

  He wasn’t at all what he seemed. Angie wondered if that statement might also apply to Richard Connors.

  12

  Looking out at the backyard of the Victorian, Cora Connors sat alone in the soft, white easy chair by the sunroom window with a cup of tea in her hand. She turned her head when Angie came into the room and looked hopefully at the young woman who sat down across from her.

  “The desk clerk didn’t recognize the pictures of your husband or his name.”

  The hope drained out of Cora’s face.

  “There was a security camera though. We looked through the video and someone who matched your husband’s description was seen on the film.”

  When Cora’s eyes grew wide, Angie quickly described the condition of the images on the tape to keep Cora from becoming unreasonably optimistic. “We couldn’t make out the facial features of the person. Really, all we could tell about the person was that it was a male about your husband’s height. The body shape and size were similar, but many people match that description. It’s a possibility, but an extreme long shot.”

  Cora gave a nod and Angie could see different emotions flash over the woman’s face as she considered the possibility that her husband might have been in the New Hampshire motel. Angie leaned forward and spoke softly. “Cora. You know this probably isn’t Richard.”

  “Oh, I know that.” Cora tilted her head slightly. “But it could be.”

  Angie sat back suppressing a sigh. “We’ve told Chief Martin about the tape. He’ll be in touch with the Mill City police and they’ll probably pick up the video and try to enhance it in order to get a clearer image of the person.”

  Cora held her teacup and its saucer and when she spoke, she tried to keep her voice steady. “How long will that take?”

  Angie shook her head. “I have no idea. I don’t think it’s a quick process. You can speak to Chief Martin about it.” Wanting to hear more about Richard, Angie asked a question. “Can you tell me more about your husband? He worked out of your house?”

  “He did.” Thinking of her husband caused some tears to show at the corners of Cora’s eyes. “He had the office at home. Appraisers are often on the road, so Richard didn’t need a separate place to meet clients or anything like that. He arranged his meetings over the phone or the internet. The home office was all he needed.”

  Angie remembered that Chief Martin told her that Mr. Connors had worked for an appraisal firm when he first started out. “Before going out on his own, Richard worked for a company?”

  Cora nodded. “When he first started, he worked at a company for about five years to get training and experience. The idea was always to eventually do his own thing.”

  Angie asked the name of the company and where it was located and Cora provided the information.

  “How did Richard like working there?”

  “He didn’t.” Cora lifted her cup and sipped. “Richard preferred working on his own.”

  “Did he not like his coworkers?”

  “They were fine.”

  “What about the boss? Did they not get along?”

  “The boss was fine.” The woman glanced out the window to the bare trees and the frosted back lawn.”

  “What didn’t he like then?” Angie probed for more information.

  Cora turned back to Angie. “Richard was his own person. He didn’t like being told what to do. He didn’t like working with a group of other people. He didn’t like to be around a lot of people. Richard had strong opinions about things and how things should be done.”

  “Did he share his opinions at work?”

  “Sure he did.”

  “Did his opinions cause trouble?”

  Taking in a breath, Cora’s face seemed to harden. “Richard could be … oh, I don’t know … to others, he could seem pushy, a little impatient, aloof, but it was just his eagerness to get things accomplished and have them done right.”

  “So there was some friction in the workplace?” Angie used an even tone so that Cora wouldn’t think that she was judging Richard.

  “Some. Occasionally.” Cora looked down at her cup.

  “How about at home?”

  Cora’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

  “Was there sometimes friction at home? Was Richard sometimes pushy or impatient at home?”

  A short, little chuckle that Angie thought seemed forced sounded in Cora’s throat. “No one’s perfect. We’re all impatient at times. We all get cranky
or pushy or tired.”

  Angie smiled in agreement. “You mentioned when we were at your house that your husband liked things in order. Was he a neat freak?”

  Cora waved her hand in the air. “Richard was organized. He liked everything in its place. He wasn’t obsessive or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

  Sensing that Cora might be feeling slightly defensive about her husband, Angie changed the topic. “How did you meet? Were you in some classes together?”

  Cora’s face softened as she looked across the room thinking back on her college days. “No. I went to the library every evening, always sat in the same spot. Richard was often there, too. I’d catch him staring at me and when we’d make eye contact, he’d look straight down at his book. It went on for weeks. Finally, I got up from my chair one night and walked across the room. He looked up from his books and seemed shocked that I was standing in front of him. I smiled and introduced myself and then I went right back to my study table.” Cora laughed recalling the incident. “Richard didn’t know what to do, so he went back to studying.”

  Angie smiled at Cora, but was thinking about how her assertive behavior as a young college student didn’t quite jive with the reserved, almost meek at times, middle-aged woman she seemed to have become. “How did the two of you end up dating?”

  “I was at a concert on campus. I was part of the group that organized activities for students. We’d been able to snag a great band to play at school. I was at the front door taking tickets and Richard was standing outside. I caught him watching me so I waved at him.” A look of pleasure passed over Cora’s face. “He finally came over to me. He asked if I’d like to get a drink after the show.”

  “So you went?” Angie nodded.

  “I had plans with some friends that night. We were going to the college pub after the concert. I invited Richard, but like I said before, he didn’t like being with lots of other people so he didn’t want to go. We arranged to meet the next night.” Cora looked at Angie. “And the rest is history. We were together almost all of the time after that.”

  Angie couldn’t put her finger on why, but something about what Cora was saying pinged in her head. “You told us that you’d married pretty quickly. Was it difficult to be married at such a young age?”