Mary Ellen Hughes - Maggie Olenski 01 - Resort to Murder

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  They drove past the Mumma farm, some of whose buildings had been burned during the battle, and to the sunken road, also called Bloody Lane because of the large number of casualties - five thousand - that had resulted there.

  “My gosh, I never knew that!” Holly said, astonished. “How come they never told us that when I was here?”

  “Maybe they did, but you were busy batting your eyes at some twelve-year-old Leonardo DiCaprio,” Maggie teased.

  Holly grinned. “Yeah, I probably was. How’d you know that?”

  Maggie smiled back. “Just a guess.”

  They went to the remaining stops, ending with the Antietam National cemetery. Holly gazed with round eyes at the endless rows of white crosses. “Gosh. All that from one battle?”

  Maggie nodded. “And these are only the Union soldiers buried here. And not all of them, either. Some, I suppose, were returned to their families.”

  Holly looked at the rows upon rows of graves, shading her eyes with her hand. She spun around suddenly and started walking back to the car. “C’mon, let’s go, huh? This is depressing.”

  They returned the recorder, then got back in the car. Maggie checked the map, then glanced at her watch as Holly looked quietly out her window.

  “We still have some time, I think, before you have to get back. I’ve noticed that the John Brown farm house isn’t far from here. There’re no graves there, I promise. Like to see it?”

  Holly looked over, shrugged and smiled. “Sure, why not.”

  As they drove, she said to Maggie, “You know, there’s so much I don’t know, and it’s stupid because I should. You were right about me probably fooling around instead of paying attention. That’s how I went through all those years - just not paying attention. You know, I never finished high school.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time, to drop out. I mean, my grades were the pits, and it just all seemed a waste of time. I sometimes wish, though, that I could go back and do it all over.”

  Maggie had loads of teacherly advice she could have offered, but she sensed that Holly wasn’t looking for advice just then. She had the feeling Holly had to figure a few things out for herself. She was about to make a neutral comment when Holly abruptly changed the subject.

  “By the way, remember I told you I’d ask around about Rob? See if he had any connection with that girl who died from an overdose at the hotel?”

  Maggie’s mind quickly switched gears to keep up with Holly, and she remembered their conversation when Holly brought her Lori’s journal. She nodded.

  “Well, nobody remembered anything between them. And if you want my personal opinion, you’re on the wrong track if you think Rob had anything to do with Lori’s murder.”

  “Oh? Why do you say that?”

  “It’s just he’s an okay guy. There’s no way he could do anything like that.”

  Maggie glanced over at Holly, who met her eyes with wide open ones of her own. “I remember you describing Eric Semple as an okay guy when I first asked you about him. Now you seem to have a different opinion. You said during lunch that you try to keep your distance from him. Did something happen in the last two days? A problem, I mean, with Eric?”

  “No,” Holly answered shortly, looking away, and Maggie felt the curtain come down again. She decided not to push it.

  The John Brown farm house was a simple frame, clapboard house. Brown had rented it the summer of 1859, just before his famous raid on Harper’s Ferry, a friendly, white haired female guide told Maggie and Holly as they strolled through the old rooms.

  “It was here Brown and his followers, including two of his sons, planned their raid on the U.S. Arsenal, a raid conducted with thirteen white and five black men.”

  Brown, she said, had had a lifelong opposition to slavery. His own father had tried to forcibly free slaves in Connecticut in 1798. Some felt Brown’s opposition was an obsession, causing him to follow such a foolhardy scheme that ended up in death for ten of the raiders, including his sons, and ultimately his own death by hanging.

  A drawing of Brown depicting him leading his men hung on the wall. His arm was raised and his long hair and beard flew out wildly. But what caught Maggie’s attention most were his eyes which almost glowed with zeal in the black and white depiction. Apparently it caught Holly’s attention also.

  “Do you think he was, you know, a little crazy?” Holly asked.

  “He was certainly a fanatic,” the guide answered. “But the mood of the times added plenty of pull to his own leanings. Perhaps a few decades from now someone will ask if the Vietnam war protestors and flag burners were a little crazy.”

  “Huh?” Holly said.

  “I’ll explain in the car,” Maggie murmured. She thanked the guide, then said to Holly, “I think we’d better head back. It looks like a storm coming.”

  “See what I mean,” Holly complained, as she buckled herself in. “There’s so much I don’t know. You went to college. You knew what the guide was talking about. I bet there’s nothing you’d ever have to say `huh’ to.”

  Maggie laughed. “At seventeen I thought I knew just about everything. Four years of college taught me just how much I still had to learn.”

  One thing she still had to learn was who killed Lori Basker. Was she getting any closer, she wondered? Holly thought she was on the wrong track suspecting Rob. Was she? Should she be looking at Eric Semple more? But why was Holly so evasive about him? Then there was the waiter, Chuck. Had his teen-aged obsession for Lori grown obsessive? Did he decide if he couldn’t have her, no one would?

  Something else nagged at the back of her mind. If I was so smart I’d figure out what that was too. She sighed. If only I could translate it all into an equation. This person equals x plus two. That one equals y minus five. Add it up, multiply and divide, and there you are! The murderer!

  ***

  CHAPTER 18

  Maggie glanced at her watch and stepped on the gas a little harder. Holly needed to change to her uniform and be ready to work in fifteen minutes. They pulled onto the steep, winding road, and as Maggie came to the spot of her near-accident she looked over at the scraped and dented guard rail. Her muscles tensed, and Maggie felt her heart beating faster. She began biting at her lip. Holly, noticing, asked, “Hey, what’s the matter?”

  “I almost went through that rail yesterday. Someone in a blue van - a Highview van, I believe - tried to slam me through it and down the mountain.”

  “Holy crap! You could have been killed!”

  Maggie turned to her. “Yes, I could have. That’s why this person has to be stopped. He’s killed before, and will try to kill again.”

  Holly said nothing, her face troubled. They rode the rest of the way in silence, until Maggie finally pulled up to a side entrance of the hotel to let her out. Holly wriggled out, then, holding the door open, leaned back in.

  “Thanks for everything,” she said and, before Maggie could answer, closed the door and dashed off as quickly as her high heels would let her.

  Maggie watched her for a moment, then drove on to park her car. She had to brake suddenly to avoid running into Tyler and Travis, the tow-headed twins she had seen twice before with Rob. They were kicking a soccer ball around on the gravel - did they ever sit still? - and had dashed out from between two parked cars. Maggie waved them across, then looked around automatically for Rob. No sign of him.

  She had parked and climbed out of her car when the soccer ball came skidding towards her. She quickly blocked it with her foot to keep it from disappearing under the car.

  “Thanks,” called Tyler. Or was it Travis? He ran up and deftly repossessed the ball with a sideways scoop of his foot, then kicked it over to his brother.

  Maggie watched them thoughtfully for a moment, then leaned back against her car, waiting for them to take a break. Their flushed cheeks showed they had been playing vigorously for some time, and she didn’t have long to wait. They soon slow
ed to a stop and sank down to rest under a nearby tree. Maggie strolled over.

  “You two are pretty good at sports,” she said with a smile, and they both grinned and nodded enthusiastic agreement. “Which do you like better, soccer or tennis?”

  It was no contest. “Soccer!” they both shouted out together, then laughed.

  “But I like tennis too,” one added. “It’s just that I’m not so good at it yet.” The other nodded.

  “Rob’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?” Maggie asked.

  “Yeah, he’s fun. Not like a teacher in school, or anything.”

  Maggie winced inwardly at that but managed to keep smiling. “Yes, I noticed you were having a pretty good time with him yesterday morning. Remember, you ran through the tables on the patio, and nearly knocked me down?”

  The boys studied her cautiously, clearly wondering if she was working up to a scolding. When they decided from her smile that she wasn’t, they grinned, remembering the incident.

  “What was going on? Were you playing tag?”

  “Nah.” They dismissed that thought instantly with a look that said tag was much too childish for them. “We were coming back with Rob after our lesson, and he stopped to get a stone or something out of his shoe.”

  “Where was this?” Maggie asked. “Next to the hedge?”

  “Yeah. The other side of the tables, you know?

  Maggie nodded.

  “Anyway, Tyler here,” Travis started giggling, “grabs Rob’s hat and starts running with it.”

  “And then you grabbed it from me,” his brother chimed in.

  “Yeah, and you almost fell over that other guy, trying to get it back.”

  “What other guy?” Maggie asked.

  “A guy that works here. He was pulling weeds or something next to the hedge. He’s the guy Rob got so mad at that time, over in the sports building. Boy, was he yelling!”

  Eric Semple! Eric had been behind the hedge too. He could have heard her talking to Dyna about Lori’s diary.

  The twins had forgotten about Maggie and were now trying to top each other by remembering some of the words Rob had used, and how many times he had used them. Maggie left without their noticing and walked slowly toward the hotel, thinking.

  So Rob had stopped on the other side of the hedge, supposedly to get something out of his shoe. He could have heard her talking with Dyna. But Eric had been there too, perhaps for a much longer time. Which one had overheard her, and to which one did it matter?

  Maggie left the graveled parking lot and walked onto the grass. A crew of maintenance workers came towards her, carrying buckets and tools, and she stepped out of their way. They nodded to her as they passed.

  Maggie suddenly got an idea, and she headed in the direction the workers had just come from. Searching through rhododendron and mountain laurel, it only took her a minute or two to find who she was looking for: Jack was pushing a wheelbarrow through the shrubbery in the other direction, away from her.

  She picked up her pace and followed. She wasn’t sure how to question him, but she was convinced he could tell her something, if he only would.

  Jack came to an isolated circle of holly trees, unaware that he was being trailed, and Maggie called out to him. He stopped and turned around, and winced as he recognized her. But he waited while she caught up to him.

  “Jack, I wonder if we could talk a minute?”

  He sighed, and with a look of resignation put down his wheelbarrow. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

  “I’m really sorry to keep bothering you, but this is important.”

  “Miss, I don’t see….” he started to protest, then gave up. Maggie quickly explained.

  “I heard about an incident concerning Eric Semple. I believe he got into some trouble about his work here, and when you called him on it, his mother, Burnelle, rushed to his defense and put the blame on you. Is that right?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Maggie chose her words carefully. “There’s someone at this hotel who is very dangerous. I need your help in finding out who it is.”

  Jack looked at her. “Do I think Eric is dangerous? Isn’t that what you’re asking? You’re wondering if he’s the one killed that little waitress? I don’t know. I don’t like the guy, but I don’t know if he could kill someone. I sure as heck wouldn’t want him dating my daughter, if I had one, but for a whole lot of other reasons. I’ve never seen him or heard of him being violent, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be. Some folks hide their dark side real well, you know?”

  Maggie nodded. She knew. How many students had she had, or heard about from other teachers, who seemed like the perfect teen until evidence of their cheating, or other nastiness, came out. She sank down onto the grass next to a small holly tree, hoping Jack would follow suit. He did, pushing his barrow out of the way, and settling down not far from her. He stretched his arms over his raised knees and looked at her, his expression resigned.

  “So tell me what happened,” Maggie prodded.

  “Well, what you heard is right. It wasn’t long after Eric started here. I knew Burnelle had been working here for a while, but I didn’t realize how much influence she had with management, with Ms. Crawford. Housekeeping poking into landscaping.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t make much sense, except when you realize how she watches over that kid of hers.”

  “She does, doesn’t she? Has she had to rescue him from many other problems?”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. He’s just that kind of kid, kinda shrewd and kinda dumb at the same time. You know?”

  Maggie nodded.

  Jack picked up a twig and started peeling the bark from it. “I first ran into Burnelle years ago, though she doesn’t remember it.”

  “Where was this?”

  “A little town west of here. I was about nineteen, hitchhiking from place to place, looking for a job. She hasn’t changed much, just some gray hair now, a little heavier, you know. Same with Ms. Crawford, older and heavier since I first met her. I ran into her around that time, too, not managing any hotels then, though. She’s really worked her way up, and brought her daughter along with her. But they’re two of a kind, Crawford and the girl. Smart, and tough.

  “Anyway, I guess I didn’t make much impression on either of them, Burnelle or Crawford, or else I’ve changed a lot. Suppose I must have. I was just a teen then. Jack’s face froze, and he looked away from Maggie.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I was just reminded of something. Something that still gives me the creeps.”

  “What?”

  “I had hitched a ride from this guy. But we split up at a diner. He was going south. By the time I found another ride I heard about a pretty bad accident on the highway he had taken. I’m just about sure it was him. The car was completely burned up. If I had stayed with him, I would have been killed.”

  “Pretty scary.”

  Jack nodded.

  “So now you’re working at the same place as both Burnelle and Ms. Crawford.”

  “Funny, isn’t it? It’s almost like something pulled us together here.” Jack stood and grabbed the handles of his wheelbarrow.

  Maggie rose too. “Thank you, Jack, for talking to me.”

  Jack nodded, his face somewhat bemused, as though he had surprised himself with all the words that came tumbling out, breaking through his normal reserve. Maggie wondered if she had stirred up things in his head that he preferred to leave undisturbed, but he didn’t look uncomfortable, only thoughtful, like someone discovering long-forgotten items in an old box.

  They separated and started off in different directions, Jack continuing the way he had first been heading, and Maggie walking back to the hotel. They were several yards apart when Maggie heard Jack calling to her.

  “Miss. Miss!”

  She turned, barely able to hear him across the distance.

  “She had the kid then, just a baby at th
e time,” he said. “But she didn’t like to talk about it.”

  “Who, Jack? Who do you mean?”

  “At the diner. She didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Who do you mean, Burnelle or Ms. Crawford?” Maggie called again, but Jack was too far away. He disappeared into the thick shrubbery.

  Maggie was about to hurry after him when she heard the voices of the twins calling to each other. They were running from the parking lot towards the hotel.

  “You sure that was Rob?” one was asking.

  “I think so. Over that way. It looked like his shirt, anyway. C’mon, maybe we can catch up to him.”

  Was Rob nearby? Maggie suddenly didn’t want him to see her questioning hotel employees and maybe ask what was going on. She turned back to the hotel and in a moment saw the twins racing by. There was no sign of Rob, but she continued on, confident that she could catch Jack at another time.

  Back in her room Maggie sat staring out the window. The sun glinted on the mountains, highlighting their intricate shapes. Closer by, flowers showed off their stunning colors against grass that was lush and green. But her thoughts weren’t on the beauty before her. They moved restlessly over her recent conversations with the twins and with Jack, gradually shifting from Burnelle, Kathryn Crawford, and Eric, to Rob. They lingered on Rob.

  Jack had mentioned the hidden dark side some people had. Did Rob have a dark side? He had explained away the rumors of violence at Wimbledon, but then he had lied to her almost immediately about keeping his lesson with Mr. Anderson at ten o’clock, the same time she was being menaced by the blue van. Had he lied to her about the rest? Maggie didn’t like that thought, but knew she had to pursue it, examine it. Her feelings didn’t matter. She couldn’t let them matter. Facts mattered.

  And now she had evidence of Eric lurking within hearing range of her conversation with Dyna. He must have overheard her talking about Lori’s journal. What had he done about it, if anything? But that waiter, Chuck, she remembered, had certainly seen the journal. He almost soaked it by tipping her water glass and could have destroyed it. And Maggie saw him talking to Ms. Crawford soon after. Telling her about the journal?