A Fright to the Death

by Dawn Eastman

  She looked up to meet our eyes. “But Isabel isn’t a killer. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known. And she’s a successful businesswoman now. There is nothing Clarissa could do to hurt her.” Her voice broke on the last words and her eyes filled with tears.

  She took a shaky breath and continued. “Truly, if Isabel was going to kill Clarissa, she would have done it years ago. She said to me just before she came that the best revenge is to lead a happy life. There’s no way she would throw it all away over an old grudge.”

  Mac leaned forward.

  “What old grudge?” he asked. “What happened between them?”

  Jessica shook her head. “She’ll tell you if you ask. She doesn’t have anything to hide, but she’s my friend and I’m not going to share her story with you.”

  “Is it about Mavis’s daughter, Teresa?” I asked.

  Jessica drew in a quick breath. “How do you know about that?”

  I shrugged. “People talk.”

  Jessica sat back and crossed her arms. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  I looked at Mac, wondering how he would handle this. In his normal life, he probably wouldn’t let Jessica slide. But this was an unusual situation. He only had the authority that he had given himself. We expected to be able to get the police involved shortly, and no one was leaving the hotel anytime soon.

  I saw the struggle pass quickly over his face and then he relaxed.

  I let out a breath of air and sat back in my chair.

  “Okay, Ms. Garrett. We’ll talk to Isabel,” Mac said. “Do you have anything else you’d like to add?”

  Jessica shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

  13

  I wanted to talk to Mac about his impression of Jessica’s story, but we still needed to talk to Linda. I couldn’t tell whether Jessica was trying to protect Isabel or make sure we focused on her.

  We asked Jessica to help us find her mother. She led the way through the dining room and up the stairs to a back hallway that had not been part of Wally’s tour. It was dark without the wall sconces, and the weak light filtering in from the windows in the guest hallway barely penetrated. I was wishing they were real torches when she opened another door and brightness spilled out.

  Jessica had led us into the family quarters, which were small but comfortable and had a beautiful view over the back garden, where the winter white blinded us. It would be a lovely room in the summer when the flowers were in full bloom. The walls were a soft sage color and the neutral couches and chairs were the perfect backdrop for the brightly colored knit pillows and throws. Obviously knitters lived there. On that day, it looked out onto a wonderland of snow-covered trees and a rolling white lawn that ended in a wooded area at the back of the property.

  Several doors led off of this common room and Jessica tapped lightly on one of them.

  “Mom? Can I come in? The detectives are here and want to talk to you.”

  It felt strange to be called a detective again. Like putting on old clothes that had gone out of style and didn’t fit anymore.

  Jessica must have heard a reply because she opened the door and Mrs. Garrett stepped out. Her eyes were red and swollen and she looked as if she hadn’t slept all night. She shuffled into the living room wearing slippers, jeans, and pulling an oversized cardigan more tightly around her shoulders.

  Jessica gestured to the small couch and chairs and we all sat.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Detective McKenzie, for helping us like this,” Mrs. Garrett said. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t stopped here yesterday. We wouldn’t have known what to do.”

  I wasn’t surprised that she had singled out Mac. It was a constant battle to be taken seriously as a woman in a “man’s” job. I bristled reflexively. Then I reminded myself that I wasn’t planning to return to the police force and that this sort of thing would not be my job anymore.

  “No need for thanks, we’re just doing our job,” Mac said, and put a hand on my shoulder.

  Mrs. Garrett ignored the subtle correction.

  “But it’s not your job, is it?” she said. “You’re here on vacation. In fact, when this is all cleared up you two should come back and stay with us—my treat.”

  “That would be really nice, Mrs. Garrett,” I said. After being stuck here with a gang of knitters and chasing a murderer, I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to return, but it was a nice offer.

  “Please call me Linda,” she said. “And I mean it—I want to see you two back here for a relaxing weekend.”

  Just then, a white blur streaked into the room, directly at Linda.

  “Oh, my!” she said. She put up her hands to protect herself and the white blur slowed and landed on her lap. Linda smiled down at the cat. “This is Duchess.” The cat purred and blinked its golden eyes.

  Mac shifted in his seat to put some distance between himself and the cat. Ever since I told him that Vi uses them as spies, even though he didn’t believe Vi could converse with animals, he had been wary around them.

  “We just wanted to ask you a few questions about what you may have seen last night,” Mac said. “Did you see anyone in the hallways during dinner? Where would your staff have been?”

  Linda sighed. “Jessica, you know more than I do about the staffing. But, I did see Isabel go up to her room partway through dinner. I had stepped out of my office to be sure Holly, our housekeeper, would be able to do the turndown service all by herself. She was on the second floor working on those rooms and I saw Isabel go into her room.”

  Duchess jumped down and sauntered in Mac’s direction. She had clearly picked up on his aversion and in a classic feline move had locked on to him as her favorite person.

  Jessica leaned forward to get the cat’s attention, but Duchess scooted away from her. She smiled an apology at Mac, and said, “Emmett and René would have been in the kitchen and Kirk was probably still working on plowing the front walk. He had said he wanted to snow-blow the first several inches so that when the rest of it came down, it would be less of a job.”

  “Would he have been out there in the dark?” I asked.

  “I guess you’re right.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m not sure where he would have been during dinner. Maybe in the basement? I don’t remember seeing him until I went to check with him about the generator after . . . Clarissa was found.”

  “We heard Kirk is new here. Since he wasn’t in the dining room, we’ll need to talk to him soon,” Mac said. “Has he been hired since Clarissa started, or has he been here longer?” Mac tried to extricate his ankles from the weaving feline.

  Linda glanced at Jessica. “I think he started about four months ago. Is that right, Jess?”

  Jessica nodded. “Uncle Dave died in July and Clarissa came here in August. I think Kirk started just before Christmas, so about three months. I’d have to look at his file to be sure.”

  Mac marked the date in his notebook. “I just wondered. It sounded like he was the newest employee.”

  They both nodded. “He’s a very nice guy, but I don’t know if he’ll work out,” Jessica said. “Gus says he doesn’t really know how to fix anything and he can’t believe he ever worked as a maintenance person before. He’s had to teach him everything, which is why we’re still out of power today. Gus would have had the generator running again in no time.”

  “Mrs. Garrett—Linda—do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your niece?” Mac asked. Duchess gave up on Mac and jumped on the couch next to Linda.

  Linda’s eyes welled with tears and she shook her head. She dabbed at her face and sniffled. “She wasn’t always the easiest person to get along with,” Linda said.

  Jessica slowly closed her eyes at her mother’s words.

  “But she meant well and I don’t think anyone in this hotel would want to hurt her,” Linda conc
luded.

  “I should really get back to work.” Jessica stood.

  I was surprised at Jessica’s abrupt end to the interview. Mac shook his head once in my direction and I let it pass.

  “Thank you for your time,” Mac said. He shook Linda’s hand and stood.

  I thanked them as well and bent to pet Duchess, who ran behind the couch.

  We left the Garretts’ apartment, and Mac said he wanted to look at Clarissa’s room again in the daylight. I felt a cold chill and rubbed my arms but nodded. We had barely been able to evaluate the scene with the room full of people and only a couple of flashlights for illumination.

  Mac had his cop face on, but I slid my hand into his anyway. He relaxed, smiled, and squeezed.

  “What did you think of the Garrett ladies?” Mac asked.

  “There wasn’t a lot of affection between the cousins. The aunt seems pretty torn up though,” I said.

  “I agree, her aunt seems to be the only one upset about her death.”

  Mac led the way down the hall, past the unlit sconces and up the spiral staircase. The stone was rough in the stairwell and we felt our way upward with only a small flashlight for illumination. I had the sense of winding my way into the past. I thought about Violet’s story of the invalid wife who had drowned in her bath. She must have been very isolated back then if these twisting steps were the only way out of her room. I imagined the flickering light of candles on the uneven stones and almost believed a ghost might inhabit the room at the top.

  We reached the landing outside Clarissa’s room and my hand was on the doorknob when we heard a distinct thump from inside. I knew it wasn’t the cat this time. Mac and I exchanged a wide-eyed look and I hesitated before opening the door. We leaned closer to the door and heard swishing noises and a footstep. Vi would claim it was the ghost if she were there.

  “I think there’s someone in there,” I whispered.

  Mac put himself between the door and me. “Stay back,” he said and held his arm out.

  “You stay back,” I hissed and grabbed for the doorknob.

  We were leaning into one another, jockeying for position in front of the door.

  “Can’t you just be my girlfriend?” Mac whispered. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I can take care of myself.” I felt like a fourteen-year-old arguing for a later curfew.

  Mac’s face softened. “I know that, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to protect you.”

  “It’s probably just the wind.” I released the doorknob and let Mac take the lead.

  Mac put his finger to his lips and slowly, quietly turned the knob. We both peeked through the crack. I couldn’t see much with Mac blocking most of the opening. It was dim inside because the curtains were still closed, but enough light leaked in that I could see the room was empty. I pressed Mac’s shoulder to let him know that we should go ahead.

  He slowly pushed the door open and we stepped inside. I went to the window and opened the heavy curtains. They scraped loudly along the rod, and light flooded the room.

  I jumped when I heard, “Oh, it’s you.”

  Vi walked out of the bathroom with her hand to her chest.

  “You two scared me to death,” she said. Her finger pointed threateningly.

  “We scared you?” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  Mac crossed his arms and glowered but let me deal with my aunt.

  “Looking for clues, of course.” Vi matched Mac’s stance.

  “What are you talking about? We’ll examine the room.” My voice rose to that shrill tone I hated. “We’re trained professionals.”

  Mac waded into the conflict. “Ms. Greer, you can’t be in here. You’re interfering with a crime scene,” Mac said, in a much calmer tone than I was using.

  Vi sniffed. “It’s not like there was any crime scene tape across the door. How was I to know . . .” She stopped when she saw the double glare we sent.

  “Okay, okay.” She held her hands up. “Wally said you were talking to the Garrett ladies and I decided I’d come take a look.” She crossed her arms again. “I might be able to help. I might be able to sense something you two miss.”

  Mac shook his head, and took a deep breath.

  “Vi, you really need to leave, now,” I said and edged closer to Mac in case he wasn’t as calm as he looked. Vi could infuriate even a meditating monk.

  “It’s fine, Clyde,” Mac said. “Let her look.” He waved an arm to encompass the room.

  Violet grinned and my mouth must have dropped open because he looked at me and shrugged. “It’s too late now to protect any evidence, we already collected what we could, and we don’t have a crime scene team on the way. Maybe she’ll find something.”

  This was so unlike Mac, I wondered if he’d been possessed by a friendly ghost.

  “No touching.” Mac pointed his finger at her and tilted his head until she nodded.

  “I’ll just look,” she said and rubbed her hands together.

  I opened the rest of the curtains and the chamber brightened. Cheery yellow walls with blue toile accents on the bed and upholstery made for a bright and feminine space. A small couch and a comfy-looking chair sat near the window, a low white dresser with a mirror sat across from the window, and the reflected light made the area warm and friendly. I wondered if this was Clarissa’s touch or if it had been decorated when she moved in. I thought Wally had said that the turret hadn’t been used in years due to the ghost story.

  The three of us looked around the room, which was in a bit of disarray. Did Clarissa always leave it this way? Or had her murderer been looking for something? As Linda had said the night before, shoes were tossed everywhere, and clothing was draped over the couch and chair. The bed had not been made—maybe Clarissa didn’t allow housekeeping to come up here and was too busy firing people to make it herself. I went into the bathroom to see if there was anything we had missed the night before. I stopped at the doorway and swallowed. There was still blood on the floor.

  I stepped around the stain and went to the sink. Clarissa had left a huge array of makeup spread out on the counter. Eye shadow and foundation shared space with about ten pairs of false eyelashes stacked in a corner and a small basket of lipsticks. In contrast to her clothing, it seemed she kept her makeup well organized.

  I opened the mirror over the sink and found birth control pills, acetaminophen, toothpaste, bandages, and a bottle of Valium. It didn’t seem like she’d been taking that on the couple of occasions I saw her.

  It all appeared ordinary and I wasn’t really surprised. I doubted we would find the answer to her death among her belongings. I thought that the quickest way to find the killer would be to trace everyone’s movements from the evening before. There was only one way into this room—hopefully someone saw who came up here besides Clarissa.

  Mac and Vi were still looking around in the main bedroom when I came out. They turned toward me and I shook my head.

  “I’m not finding anything useful here,” Mac said. “She certainly wasn’t a very neat person.”

  “Unless the killer did this to make it look like she was a slob,” Vi said.

  She was examining a tall bookcase that sat on the wall opposite the door. It was built in and a different style from the white bed and dresser. Its dark wood and intricate scrollwork made me think it was probably original to the room.

  Vi ran her hand over the carvings, while Mac’s lips pressed into a white line. She was ignoring the “no touching” rule.

  “Hey,” Vi said. She pushed her finger against one of the scrolls and the bookcase swung away from her like a door.

  “What did you do?” Mac said and took three strides over to where she stood gaping at the dark passage that had appeared out of nowhere.

  I hung back, half expecting a mummy to lurch out at us, shredded linen dr
agging.

  “I just pushed this little button thingy,” she said. “It looked different from the other ones.” She pointed to a small round carving in the center of a scroll. It looked the same to me, except it stuck out just a touch more.

  We peeked into the opening and saw only darkness.

  “Is it storage? Or another closet?” I said. “Didn’t women have huge dresses back then? Maybe this is some kind of cedar closet.”

  Mac turned the flashlight on and shone it into the void. A few feet from the opening, the floor dropped off. He stepped forward and his light bounced off the walls, finally resting on a set of steep steps.

  Vi said, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

  14

  Of course, the castle has a secret passageway. And, of course, Vi would be the one to find it. I peered into the dark. After the first five steps, there was only inky black. I took the flashlight and shone it up toward the ceiling, where heavy cobwebs hung in the corners as if the stairs had not been used in decades.

  Vi charged ahead and motioned for Mac to follow.

  “Wait, Vi,” I said and grabbed her arm. “We don’t know where it leads and there’s no light.”

  She shrugged off my hand and turned toward me. “How are we going to know where it leads unless we go down those steps?” She put her hands on her hips and looked at Mac for backup. “The flashlight is bright enough to show us the stairs.”

  I knew she was right. We’d been assuming the killer could only come in through the one door, but if this stairway led to another room, then maybe more people had access than we thought.

  I felt my shoulders slump. “Okay, but let Mac go first, Vi. I don’t want you breaking a hip.”

  Vi gestured for Mac to lead the way.

  We carefully descended the staircase following Mac’s flashlight beam. It only illuminated as far as the next few steps. For all we knew, the stairs could dead-end or drop off into a crumbling pit. I kept one hand on the stone wall for balance and one hand on Vi’s elbow. It was slow going and the skittering of creatures in the dark didn’t add to the enjoyment. I sent up a request to the universe that Mac’s light wouldn’t fail.