“Are Mom and Dad there?” she asked.
“No, they went out to dinner with Aunt Sophie. Too bad you missed them.”
Maggie heard the light teasing in his voice and laughed. He knew her well.
“Mom called here,” she said, “wanting to know if I arrived OK, so I guess you can tell her I did.” She paused, deciding what to say. “I might be leaving sooner than I thought, though. I don’t know yet.”
“Why, what’s wrong?” Joe’s voice was suddenly serious, picking up on her tone.
She told him, then, what had happened, trying to be as detached as possible, but not succeeding totally. Her voice shook when she said that the victim was Lori, her former student.
“Maggie, get out of there,” Joe said. “Even if you lose whatever you paid so far, get out of there. Come here, or go back to Baltimore. Just leave. Tonight.”
Joe’s ordering manner suddenly annoyed her. She would make her own decisions. She hadn’t called for advice. “Joe,” she said, “I want to see Lori’s parents. They must live around here.”
“Maggie…” Joe protested, his tone exasperated.
“It’s the least I can do. I feel I have to do something. I’ll probably leave soon, so don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry?”
“Right, and Joe, maybe you shouldn’t tell the folks right away. It’ll only spoil their vacation. I’ll tell them when I see them. After I’ve left here. OK?”
“Maggie, what if they read about it in the paper?”
“They’re on vacation Joe. Have you ever seen either of them pick up the paper at the beach? Besides, I doubt that this will get much publicity beyond this area. It won’t make the TV news.”
“Maggie….”
“I’ll let you know what I’m doing, I promise. I’ll probably see you soon.” Maggie wasn’t sure if Joe picked up on the “probably”, but she hung up quickly before he could badger her on it. She didn’t know what she planned to do herself, and didn’t want to be pinned down to any promises. She felt a twinge of guilt at putting Joe off but told herself she would check in with him again soon. He would just have to be patient.
She sat by the phone and looked around the room, wondering what to do next. It was too soon to just go to bed, and she didn’t feel like sitting alone in her room. She was too keyed up now, and knew she’d never be able to concentrate on television or any of the paperbacks she had brought with her. She decided to dress and go down to the main, social floor of the Inn.
A quick call to Dyna’s room a few minutes later got no answer, so she tucked her key card into the pocket of her slacks and left the room, not knowing what she was looking for except perhaps a little more distraction than her television could provide.
Her first step off the elevator lowered her hopes. The lobby was deserted except for two whispering employees behind the desk. The women looked up as Maggie came near and waited to see if she wanted something. She merely smiled a greeting, which was returned, and walked on, hearing the whispering resume behind her.
A glance out the tall windows showed the lawns beyond, floodlit and with a uniformed guard in sight. Maggie felt no temptation to leave the relative security that walls and locked doors offered tonight, and continued down the hall. The dining room was nearly empty, only one or two tables still occupied by lingering couples sipping coffee. The soft sound of music drew Maggie’s attention farther down, and she came to a small cocktail lounge. She stepped in.
The music came from a jukebox, a slow melancholy country song. A small bandstand was vacant, and four or five people sat at scattered tables, talking quietly or just staring at the jukebox or down at their drink. No one seemed to notice or care particularly when Maggie walked in, and as she didn’t see Dyna, the one person she knew here so far, she went to the small bar and sat down alone.
A bartender came over and smiled. “Hi there. What’ll you have.”
The disapproving face of Burnelle flashed before Maggie’s eyes, but she blinked it away. “Bud light.”
He poured it out for her, and slid over a bowl of nuts. As Maggie took small sips and nibbled, she looked at all the pictures on the wall in back of the bar, read and reread all the advertisements, and gradually began to wonder if this was really better than sitting upstairs watching television. The country song was replaced by another one, slower and sadder.
Another young woman walked in and sat a few stools away from her, leaning her arms onto the bar. She wore the hotel waitress uniform covered partially with a light jacket, and she reached for a pack of cigarettes in one pocket and tapped out one slightly bent cigarette.
“Hey Dave, got any free beers for me tonight?”
“In your dreams, babe,” he said, grinning. “You still working?”
“Nah. It’s so slow, Roz told me to take off.”
“Yeah, it’s the same here. I think we’ll be closing up early.” Neither of them said the reason out loud, but Maggie could feel it hanging in the air: a girl was murdered; Lori Basker was murdered. She picked up a peanut from the dish, and looked away from them.
The bartender, Dave, wandered to the other end of the bar and stooped down, checking the stock. Maggie felt the waitress’s eyes on her and looked over. The young woman smiled and pointed to the dish of nuts. “Mind if I have a few? They’re all I can afford tonight.”
Maggie smiled back and said, “Sure,” sliding the bowl between them. The waitress moved over one stool and grabbed a handful of nuts, pushing half into her mouth. She was small and slim, with dark, frizzy-curly hair framing her face. Her bright red lipstick left prints on the end of her cigarette. A name tag pinned near her collar said “Holly”. Maggie recognized her now as the girl with the teary face she had seen at the tennis courts, watching them bundle up Lori’s body.
Holly looked at Maggie closely and said, “You’re the one found Lori, aren’t you?”
Maggie nodded
“I saw them talking to you,” Holly continued. “Must’ve been pretty bad, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” Maggie agreed. “I guess you worked with her?”
“Yeah. Nice kid.”
Maggie guessed that Lori might have been all of two or three years younger than Holly. It evidently was enough for Holly to consider her the “kid”.
“She just started here,” Holly said, “last month, for the summer. She was going to college, and was always reading books and things during her breaks.”
“Was she?”
“Yeah, must have been smart. She didn’t hang around with the rest of us, but then we didn’t know her too long.”
Maggie remembered the tears she had seen on Holly’s face and thought Lori had evidently made at least a small dent into Holly’s life.
“Was she seeing anyone? I mean, someone mentioned she might have been seeing the tennis pro, Rob, uh, Clayton. Was that right?”
“Why, you got your eye on him?” Holly laughed, then suddenly seemed to remember they were talking about a murder and stopped. “Wouldn’t blame you, half the girls around here do. But I don’t know if Lori was seeing him. Can’t say I ever saw them together. She did disappear every so often, now that I think of it, but I don’t know if she was meeting someone. Why, was the sheriff asking questions?”
“The sheriff didn’t ask many questions at all, except for the obvious ones. He seems to be a busy man, maybe too busy for solving murders.” As soon as she said it Maggie realized how foolish it must sound. After all, that was the sheriff’s job. How could he be too busy to do his job properly? Busy with what? She noticed, however, that Holly wasn’t looking at her as if she had lost her mind.
“Hah!” Holly hooted. “That sounds like Sheriff Burger all right. The only thing he has a lot of time for is getting himself re-elected. My guess is he’s going to try to pin it on some bum he finds passed out somewhere. That, and keep it all as quiet as he can. Bad publicity for the hotel, you know. He gets a hefty donation for his campaigns from the owners.”
“Oh?” Maggie�
�s eyebrows went up, but she was unsure how seriously to take that. Could a sheriff really be that lax?
“Uh-huh.” Holly nodded firmly. “You know, this isn’t the first time something’s happened around here.” She paused and glanced around, continuing in a lowered voice and leaning towards Maggie.
“One of the girls, Melanie - this was when I first started here about two years ago - was found dead in her room here one morning from an overdose of sleeping pills. The sheriff called it a suicide, but most people that knew her didn’t believe that. They said there was no reason for her to kill herself. She wasn’t depressed, for cripe’s sake. She was thinking of getting married! And nobody knew anything about her taking sleeping pills either. It’s like they suddenly appeared out of nowhere.”
Maggie shook her head, frowning. “That isn’t really like what happened to Lori today. She was clearly murdered.”
“Yeah, I know. Sheriff can’t call it suicide ‘cause no one’s going to bash their own head in - sorry,” she said, as Maggie winced. “I know there’s no proof the Melanie didn’t kill herself, but believe me, there’s still a real creepy feeling hanging around here about it. Like, maybe someone got away with murder.”
Maggie looked at the young waitress speculatively. She had an intense, wary expression on her thin face, like a young deer, Maggie thought, alert to danger. “Why do you stay here if you’re so concerned?”
“The money. Can’t find a job that pays as good around here. And I really need it right now. But as soon as I get enough of a stake saved up, believe me I’ll be out of here.”
Dave, the bartender had moved closer and cleared his throat, trying to get Holly’s attention, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“And if I were you,” she went on to Maggie, “I’d go to some other place to vacation. Someplace….” She noticed Maggie looking past her shoulder and turned to see Kathryn Crawford standing a few feet away in the open doorway. The older woman stood stiffly, frowning her displeasure.
“Holly, aren’t you on duty now?”
“No ma’m. Roz told me to take off early.”
“I see.” The manager’s gaze left Holly and moved to Maggie. She managed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Good evening Miss Olenski.”
Maggie nodded, feeling the tension in the air between Holly and Ms. Crawford, wishing she could do or say something to relieve it but unable to think of anything.
Ms. Crawford turned and walked down the hall. Holly made a face at her back. “She probably heard me tell you to get out of here. She’s been here so long she thinks of the place as hers and can’t stand hearing anyone bad-mouth it. She needs to get a life. Her and her daughter eat, sleep and breathe Highview.”
“She has a daughter working here too?”
“Yeah, she’s her assistant. Talk about nek… nes…?”
“Nepotism?”
“Yeah. Anyway, you know she got her job because of her mother, and she’s not any older than any of us waitresses. But Miss high-and-mighty Crawford can’t lower herself to speak to us, except to point out what we did wrong, of course.” Holly jabbed her cigarette out in the ashtray with some vehemence.
“Um, Holly, do you happen to know where Lori’s family lives?”
Holly shook her head. “No, but I could find out for you easy. Why, you want to go see them?”
Maggie nodded. “I taught Lori when she was in tenth grade and got to know her folks a little. They sent me a couple of Christmas cards after they moved to this area, but I don’t remember the address. They were good people. I’d like to talk to them. Maybe there’s something I can do.”
Holly nodded, her face solemn. She stood up to leave, and reached for a final handful of nuts. “I can probably get it to you by tomorrow. And, uh, look, maybe don’t worry too much about everything I said, okay? I mean, I’m just kind of upset and all. My boyfriend says I get too hyper about things.” She flashed a quick grin. “So anyway, maybe, just forget it, okay?”
“Sure.” Maggie smiled back at her. She watched the young waitress leave, turning the opposite direction Kathryn Crawford had gone, and thought about their conversation. Was Holly’s version of an earlier death colored by today’s tragedy, she wondered, or had there really been another murder at the Highview? And was her opinion of Sheriff Burger justified?
She didn’t know the girl well enough to answer those questions for herself yet, but she knew they would be two more contributions to a restless night. She sighed and finished the last of her beer, felt for the key card tucked in her pocket, and headed for the elevator. She wondered, as she walked, if her skin could take another soaking bubble bath or not.
***
CHAPTER 7
May 23, 1997
Melanie was bushed. Working the evening shift was good for tips, but hard work. She didn’t realize how tough waitressing could be. She thought she was in good shape, but now she seemed to be tired all the time. Would these high energy pills help?
Guaranteed - that’s what she was told. All natural, too. Everyone here at the Highview took them, that’s what she was told too. Well, she sure needed something. And they didn’t cost her anything, either. She’d just take a couple….
Melanie didn’t hear the door to her room open as she rinsed shampoo out of her hair in the shower. So she didn’t hear the pills being dropped into the diet soda by her bed, the soda she always sipped as she watched David Letterman, unwinding before she turned out the lights and went to sleep.
Tonight she would watch David Letterman, and she would turn out her light sooner than usual, yawns overtaking her. She would sleep the soundest she had ever slept, never knowing that it would be the final sleep of her life. She wouldn’t hear the screams of the girl who eventually came to wake her, long past her usual rising time. The girl who couldn’t wake her, because Melanie was dead.
***
CHAPTER 8
June 20, 1999
Maggie drove down a portion of the same winding road she had driven up the previous day on her way to the Inn. As the posts of the guardrail rushed by she reflected on how quickly, and how drastically, her expectations for this week’s vacation had changed.
Twenty-four hours ago she thought she faced seven days of relaxation and recreation. She hoped to leave all major problems behind her in Baltimore. Suddenly, overnight, those problems had shrunk considerably in importance next to the horrifying one that had loomed up. One of her former students had been murdered. She, Maggie had found the body. And now she would be facing the parents of that girl. Exams, grades, fussy principals, and demanding parents paled by comparison.
Holly had slipped Maggie the Basker family’s address as she and Dyna ate breakfast in the hotel’s dining room, adding a few brief directions in a low voice as she poured coffee into Maggie’s cup.
“I got this from Crawford’s files, which she usually guards like a dragon, so keep it to yourself, OK?”
Maggie promised she would and thanked her.
“Want me to go along?” Dyna asked. She sat across the table from Maggie wearing hot pink spandex bicycle shorts with a sequin-dotted T-shirt. Beaded earrings brushed her shoulders.
Maggie declined, but not because of Dyna’s costume of the day, although it was somewhat inappropriate for a condolence call. She worried that even her own visit might be too intrusive, that Lori’s mother wouldn’t remember who she was. But she still wanted to see her if she could, even if only briefly.
As she drove, Maggie wondered what she would say. She had gone to funerals and wakes before, of course, but she realized it had almost always been in the company of her family. Aged relatives and older friends of her parents had died, invariably of natural causes, and Maggie’s role had been simply to be there, a sympathetic presence, while the older generation did most of the talking.
There seemed to be a set script for those events, platitudes and expressions of sympathy that rolled out easily. Those deaths had been expected, usually peaceful, and sometimes a relief for al
l concerned including the deceased. There was never the horror that was connected with Lori’s death. What platitudes could she offer on the murder of a young daughter?
Maggie felt the stomach tremor return, an echo of the one she had had at the crime scene. She suddenly wished intensely that her mother were here with her now, and Maggie could simply shift the burden to her.
Her wish surprised her. For the past several days Maggie had done her best to put distance between her mother and all the other family members who had gone down together to Bethany. It wasn’t simply the vacation plans that she had rebelled against. It was their whole attitude toward her. In her parents’ eyes, she was still their little girl. She had been earning her own money teaching for three years now and had her own apartment - which was another major crisis in the Olenski household - but they still refused to accept her as an adult. Maggie didn’t know what it would take, but she was doing her darnedest to find out.
Part of the problem, she understood, was her parents’ background. They had both grown up in the same neighborhood in Baltimore, surrounded by grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. They had each lived at home until they married, turning over their paychecks to their own parents and receiving allowances in return. Maybe they couldn’t think of Maggie as grown up until she got married. If that were the case, then she would have a long-running battle ahead, as there was no prospective bridegroom in the picture, and Maggie felt in no hurry to find one.
She reached into the bag of sour balls in her console and rooted around with a quick sideways glance until she found her favorite - tangy grape. She unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth, and felt her stomach tremors ease just a bit.
Mary Ellen Hughes - Maggie Olenski 01 - Resort to Murder Page 4