Booked For Murder

by CeeCee James

  “They have the wrong guy!” I leaned in closer to whisper. “I think it’s someone who works here. But don’t breathe a word.” Clarissa shook her head.

  Stepping back, I finished with, “I need you to call a staff meeting. Everyone who works here needs to be assembled in the conference room in an hour.” I nearly rubbed my hands together with glee. I’d have Momma with me and she could subtly point him out. I frowned as the picture of her yelling and pointing flew through my head. We’d work on the subtlety.

  Clarissa typed on the computer. “Well, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but quite a few of the staff won’t be in until three.”

  I thought about that. “Okay, put the word out that there’s a meeting at three. Everyone who is normally off then still needs to attend.”

  Sierra popped her head out of the back room. “Everyone? I have an appointment at three-thirty.”

  Of course, Sierra would complain. “I’ll make it quick,” I assured her. She started to protest when I cut her off. “Everyone needs to be there. No exceptions.”

  She looked at me with a frown and shut the door hard.

  Next was my text to Kristi. I think I know who did it.

  —Did what?

  I texted back—Murdered Mr. Olsen

  —We know who did it. He’s in custody.

  I smiled with delight—You have the wrong guy.

  —What did I say about you playing detective?

  —I can prove it.

  I knew it was going to drive her crazy. She quickly responded—Who is it then?

  —I don’t know for sure, but I will by three. Can you be here then?

  There was a long pause. Finally, she wrote.—I’ll be there. But I’m not happy.

  I sent back—Thank you!

  I felt super energized all morning. I couldn’t wait until that afternoon when I had everyone assembled together, and Momma identified the man.

  Sierra continued to give me the cold shoulder, cutting her eyes away whenever I approached. She obviously was very upset at the idea of missing her appointment. But, at least Clarissa was there, happily chatting about her hot date for this weekend and keeping me entertained as I worked on guest requests.

  The front desk phone rang, and Clarissa answered. “Hello. Front Desk. Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. We’ll get somebody right on it.”

  I glanced at her questioningly even as I finished inputting the requests on one of the VIP accounts. “What’s happening?”

  “That was Mr. McKnight,” Clarissa said. “He’s threatening to leave because his shower doesn’t have hot water.”

  I groaned. That would be a problem. Mr. McKnight had specifically booked the room with the five-head shower spa.

  “He wants someone to come up because he accidentally pulled the knob off trying to get it to work.”

  Guests, I swear. “Go grab Julie from housekeeping and make sure everything’s okay. I’ll get hold of maintenance.”

  Clarissa called for housekeeping to meet her outside the guest’s room, and then alerted Mr. McKnight that she was on her way.

  At that moment, Gary ran up, his forehead creased with worry.

  “Ms. Swenson!” he called, breathless as he approached the desk.

  One glance at his face and I could tell that it wasn’t going to be good news.

  “Ms. Swenson, someone’s sabotaged the water heating system. We’ve been working on it for over an hour. I hate to say it, but we’re going to have to turn the water off to fix it.” He frowned at my expected response.

  “Turn the water off?” This couldn’t happen at a worse time. Half the guests would want to shower before they checked out. But what was I thinking? Who showers in cold water? “How fast can you guys fix it?” I asked

  “About a half-hour. But some damage has been done. There's boxes that have gotten wet. Old decorations and event stuff. We don’t know what you want to do with them.”

  Great. Water damaged décor, no hot water, screaming guests. Anything else? No, I shouldn’t think like that. After the last two weekends, this would be a piece of cake.

  “Sierra,” I yelled towards the back room. “You’re in charge for a few minutes.” Then, waving Gary forward, I said, “Lead the way.”

  Chapter 23

  It was a long way through the hotel to reach the basement entrance. I hadn't been down there yet, as there hadn't been a need. “So, what’s gotten wet? Table cloths and curtains?”

  Gary shrugged. “Just says ‘Decor’ on the outside of the boxes. I don’t know really. Stan’s down there now trying to sort it out.”

  Together, we marched down the hotel’s hallway. “Sabotaged, you say? How?”

  His eyes widened. “Someone put a clamp on the steam outlet house. It’s just pure luck that we had the piece to fix it right here.” He shook his head. “Seriously. What the heck is going on with this place? Murder? Fire? Now, this?”

  “You’ve never had to deal with anything like this before?”

  “No, I’m originally from Ohio. My old job was slow and boring compared to this.”

  We made it to the basement door, a cold slab of gray metal. He passed his key under the slot, and the light blinked green to open it. With a grunt, he yanked it open, and we started down the stairs.

  It was amazing how industrial and sterile the fluorescent lights made everything appear. Such a sharp contrast to the warm walls and carpets of the main hotel.

  I slid my hand along the cold metal handrail for support. The steps were made of metal grating that clanged as we descended. I had to walk carefully not to jab the heels of my shoes through the sharp openings.

  He glanced back at me to see if I was following. “Just around the corner.” His voice echoed in the basement chamber as he took the last step.

  The sound made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My fingers twitched to squeeze something.

  “Where is it?” I asked, wincing a bit at my own voice’s echo.

  “Like I said, right over there.” He pointed. “It’ll probably dry out. Looks like it’s some kind of fabric stuff. We weren't sure what you wanted to do with them.” He smiled at me reassuringly.

  I needed to chill out. The last week had made me jumpy. We reached the door, and he held it open, motioning me through. I understood it was gentleman-like, but walking into the darkened room was not something I wanted to do first. I gave him a tight smile, and my gaze dropped down to his arm holding the door.

  His forearm displayed a large American flag tattoo. Underneath it was a banner that read, “Veteran, Friend, Brother.”

  My gaze flicked up to his eyes, which had tightened slightly.

  “Come on,” he said. “It’s just right over there.”

  I felt the pieces beginning to click together. I was already halfway turned around when he yanked me by my arm into the room. In an instant, he was behind me, and the door had clicked shut.

  There was only a dim light in the far corner. My eyes struggled to adjust in the dark. Everything felt like it had been moving in slow motion from the moment I saw the tattoo. Smith was the name of the dead veteran. And what had been in Norman's mouth?

  “MREs,” I whispered.

  My steps faltered. A sharp smack hit the back of my head. The floor rushed up to meet my face. My hands barely reached up in time before I felt the impact and everything became dark and fuzzy.

  Chapter 24

  The chill from the concrete was the first thing I noticed. How long have I been knocked out? I fought my urge to move and instead kept my breath even. Listen. It’s your only chance.

  He sounded like he was still by the door, mumbling to himself.

  “I don't want to do this. I shouldn't do this. It's not your fault. I know it's not. But you made me. You forced me to do it. You wouldn’t leave it alone. No. No. No.”

  He was crazy, and I was terrified. My heart sped up in my chest, beating so hard I could feel it against the floor. How long have I been in this room? I could hear the hum of a
pump, probably one of several water pumps down here. Someone will come looking for me. They’ll notice I’m missing.

  Then I thought about it. Stan wasn’t really down here. Gary could undo his tampering with the hot water, and everything would be back to normal. Who knew I was down here? Sierra, right?

  My heart squeezed when I realized she hadn’t come out of the back room. I couldn’t think of anyone who’d seen me leave with Gary.

  My phone! Will my phone work? The concrete biting my cheek seemed to mock me. I barely got cell service in an elevator. Was there even a possibility down here in this tomb?

  “You did this to me.” His pacing feet stopped next to my leg. I felt him nudge me with a shoe. “Wake up. You’re not dead. Yet.”

  Oh, I wanted to pretend. I didn’t want to roll over and face him. Fear kept my breath coming in tight gasps.

  “I said, get up!” his voice thundered in the empty room.

  I rolled over and tried to sit. Stars flashed around me. My face prickled from sweat as nausea grew. Roiling, my stomach heaved its contents, and I turned to vomit to one side.

  He jumped back. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I swallowed and swallowed, trying to stop the heaving. Finally, it ended, although my stomach continued to give a few nervous flutters.

  “My laws,” he exclaimed. “What have you done?”

  I tried to look at him, but his face remained a darkened shadow. “I don’t know what you mean?”

  “Your little meeting to gather everyone together. I heard you whispering to Clarissa. Ho boy. You just wouldn’t let it be.”

  He paced again, making sure he avoided the puddle. “You should have left it alone. That whole family, all of them. They aren't nice people. Why would you help them?”

  My heart was so loud, pounding in my ears and not helping me think at all.

  Think, think, Maisie! Does he have a weapon?

  He was a maintenance guy. He had on a utility belt. There was probably a screwdriver attached, maybe even a box cutter. I thought about the chain link fence. Some kind of utility tool.

  But did he really want to hurt me?

  “I'm so sorry,” he groaned.

  I heard a thump and moved my head as slowly as I could, trying to see what he was doing.

  He had slumped to the ground, his head in his hands with his elbows propped on his knees. He continued to mumble. Back and forth between sorrow and anger.

  “Gary,” I whispered. And then a little louder. “Gary.”

  He covered his face with his hands and screamed. Every nerve in my body fired and I bit back a scared scream myself. This man was crazy or sick. He had lost his brother. He certainly obviously blamed Norman Olsen. But why come after me?

  “Why?” I tried to make my voice sound weaker than I felt. My head and heart still drummed in unison, but I knew I could deal with this if I had to. I just needed a better position. “Why are you trying to hurt me?”

  He gasped, his face showing shock and fear.

  “What did I … what did I do?” I tried to force tears, but I wasn't at that point. My body still wanted to fight.

  “You're going to mess it up! My brother was a hero! That man let him die. He sent him to his death. My brother wasn’t drunk. He needed help, and they shoved him away. Well, I showed him. I showed him that he can't treat heroes like that.”

  I nodded, trying to create a rapport. “Your brother was Derik Smith?”

  He looked down at this tattoo and rubbed it. “That man took my brother’s life.”

  “Norman Olsen killed him?”

  “He sent him away to die! It was the same thing! After promising he’d help all the veterans.”

  I nodded again. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

  “My brother’s name will forever be remembered marred with a stain. Not the hero he really was. Not thought of with the respect he deserved.”

  “That’s not right. He’s still a hero. No matter what.”

  He licked his lip. “You think so, huh? That’s not what the newspapers say. So, I brought shame to the Olsen name.”

  I was confused. Was he was delusional? “I don’t understand?”

  “His son.” The dim light caught the wild look in his eyes. “His son! Everyone will remember his son as being a back-stabbing loser who murdered his own father in cold blood. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Olsen’s wife and kid, living like royalty while my brother got tossed in the streets like garbage. I cared about my family. That scumbag … he didn't understand family. After I killed him, I ripped off his wedding ring and ruined his son’s life like he ruined mine.”

  It was starting to come together.

  “How did you do it?” I asked glancing around. There were several red bricks scattered about, used to rebuild the crumbling areas of the basement and the boiler encasement.

  He grinned then, a scary, toothy grin. The light made his teeth appear sharp. “Oh, you found something of mine. Didn’t you? I had to take it back. My medical bracelet.” He laughed, and I flinched. My movement made his laugh bellow louder.

  I knew where I’d heard that before. In my apartment that night.

  “I have a family,” I whispered again. “My Momma. I’m here to take care of her.”

  His laughter pinched off, and he groaned again into his hands. “Why? Why? Why are you making me do this?”

  As he sat crouched, his head hanging, I studied him carefully.

  “I don’t have to say anything. Nothing’s changed,” I said slowly. My only goal was to make sure he didn’t hurt me.

  “You say nothing’s changed,” he hissed. “Everything’s changed.”

  “No,” I said, drawing the word out low and soothing. “Nothing’s changed. No one knows. Caleb is locked up. It’s just you and me here.”

  “There’s one too many in that equation,” he said, his voice sharp.

  Dear, God. Get me out of here!

  I attempted to change the subject. “So, you have diabetes? It was your medical bracelet that had you hung up on the fence?” The memory was coming clearer of that day … the noise at the pool fence. Gary showing up to help get the guests back into the building with his hands in his pockets.

  “So, sloppy.” He shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. Sighing, he pushed up his long sleeve and looked at his wrist. There was enough light to see that it was bandaged. “I can climb those things in my sleep, but I heard someone coming, so I rushed.” His eyes narrowed as he studied me again. “It was you. Always destroying my plans. I tried to stop you with the fire. I thought that would be enough. Maybe get you fired. But no matter what I did, you were always snooping around. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”

  Right near my foot was a broken chunk of brick. It was almost close enough for me to grab. Taking a deep breath in, I slowly shifted closer.

  “Your plans aren’t destroyed,” I repeated again, this time more firmly. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s never going to be okay.” His body tensed.

  We made eye contact then, and I saw it. He was watching me. Watching my every move.

  My fingers twitched.

  “Just what do you think you’re going to do, sweetheart,” he said, his lips turning up in a sneer. “Take me down?”

  “I'm so sorry,” I said. I lunged for the brick. He was moving, but not fast enough. My arm arched back, and then I flung it, just as if it were a fast-pitch baseball from all those years ago. I didn’t need to hear the sound to know I’d connected.

  He fell forward, as if boneless. I studied him for a moment, shocked at how unemotional I felt.

  With a weary sigh, I scrambled to my feet, a little unsteady still from the blow to my head. But, I had more than enough adrenaline to propel me out that door and up the stairs.

  As I leaned against the closed door, breathing heavily, I yanked my phone out of my pocket. The screen was cracked, but it was still working. I began to yell for help as I
called the police.

  Chapter 25

  Life was bizarre. Just when I thought I was starting to get a handle on it, it threw a monkey into the tea party, and everything changed.

  The next couple of days had consisted of cleaning up after the science fiction convention, the investigation, and spending time filling out reports for the police and the boss. I was happy to have two days off before going back to work on Monday.

  For the most part, everyone had been courteous. I had heard one person refer to me as a hero, and that didn't sit well. I felt for Gary Smith. It was obvious the man had some emotional distress, along with the difficult death of his brother. I was glad the case was over, but I wasn't proud of having to knock out a sick man. Even if it was to save myself.

  Today, I was spending the last few hours of the afternoon out on our patio soaking up some sunshine.

  “So, how's the book coming along?” Ruby asked, leaning back in the lawn chair. She hummed appreciatively as she took a sip from her glass. Momma had made fresh lemonade, happy to have company but not humble enough to admit it.

  “Well, I definitely got more than my share of real life experience. It turns out, mystery is a lot less fun in real life than on paper.” I sat across from her, with Momma reclining in her lounge. Bingo lay flopped in the shade underneath.

  “I'd say smackin' a murderer upside the head with a brick and locking him in the basement is pretty awesome.” Ruby squinted when she saw my face, “I mean, I suppose, if it really happened to me, it’d be no fun.”

  “I don't know. It's all still sinking in, I guess,” I answered.

  “I just don't understand how you turned a boring hotel desk job into some kind of Agatha Christie novel,” Momma said, fanning herself. “I would have thought it was a simple and safe job, and yet here you are having to go all, I dunno, Jackie Chan on some crazy man.”

  “Jackie Chan, Momma?” I snorted.

  “He’s my hero.” She raised her penciled eyebrows, “But, he’s still behind Davis Hamilton on my story, bless his heart. And don’t be sassy, Missy. I’m pretty sure all those Jackie Chan movies I dragged you to are what gave you your moves.”