Nailed

by Avery Daniels

  I walked into the game room and entered another dimension. It had dark red and blue walls with a few game related posters, and a wall of video games, including the classic Mario, Pacman, and Galaga. There was a foosball table, air hockey, classic skeeball, basketball SuperShot, a couple of pinball machines, a Guitar Hero, and a dance machine. Off to the side were two billiard tables, seemingly aloof and set apart from the cacophony of sensory overload machines.

  I had gone from the noise of a busy restaurant to the lights and loud sound effects of an arcade where time became irrelevant. In some respects, it was like gambling machines without the payout. From a purely resort amenity aspect, I was impressed and made a mental note to share this youth game room concept with Chad for more on-site family-friendly activities.

  I waded into the crowd of young faces gathered in groupings around each machine or game. It became obvious that I wouldn’t get any gossip among the groups playing, so I played the dance machine (and did pretty good if I do say so myself) and a pinball machine to look like I was one of them.

  After a few games, I joined a group standing around checking their cell phones and talking. I hoped to get them gossiping since they weren’t obsessively playing. I found myself at a loss how to get these teens to talk, so I punted.

  “Not interested in these games? I guess they get old after a day or two.” Three teen boys looked up from their phones.

  “No, texting my fam.” The brown-haired boy who looked a little like a young pop singer said. He glanced up at me and did a double take, giving me a shy smile.

  “Yeah, I’m chatting with my squad, too.” The freckled boy added.

  I took a guess they were texting their friends. Somehow, I had grown up couldn’t relate to the teenagers of today. When did that happen?

  “I already let my friends know about the storm and being stuck here. I hope they find who killed that woman quick.” I gave up on trying to be smooth, I was okay with being clumsy to get what I wanted.

  “I keep thinking the police should have arrested somebody by now. Somebody would have seen a person out in the halls after midnight I would think. Right?” I was failing at this bright idea.

  “You asking us?” The freckled boy said without taking his eyes off his phone or slowing his thumbs.

  “Well, sure. You guys probably get around the entire resort and saw something. Like somebody out when they should’ve been in their room.” This was still gossip, right? I don’t count asking teens blatant questions, they apparently need direct talk to compete with texting.

  “Mmmmm, maybe. Like the blondish guy in glasses was sus that night. He was salty from yelling with his wife.” The brown-haired boy said. Of course, I needed an interpreter.

  “You mean a blond man in glasses had an argument with his wife and was out of his room? Am I close?” I was filling in the parts I didn’t understand from the context.

  He chuckled at my evident ignorance of slang trends, “Yeeeees. Don’t know the guy’s name. He’s here with his wife and boy. I know my folks said he knew that dead woman somehow.” At least he dropped the lingo.

  “Where did you see him and what time?” I clearly had blown any sense of gossiping.

  “It was about...oh, maybe one-thirty or closer to two that night. I was hanging with a girl I met and forgot the time. I heard him yell a little, a door slam, then I saw him duck into the reading room.” He smiled a little brighter and his eyes gave me the once-over. Oh please!

  “Bet the police were interested in that news.” I didn’t want to duplicate information.

  “I didn’t say anything.” He shook his head no and scoffed.

  “So, my theory that somebody had to have seen something is right.” It couldn’t hurt to try and play innocent some more. “What about you, hear or see of anybody else out that night?” I asked the freckled boy.

  “Naw, but those forensics people’ll catch whoever. That’s how its done now, not wasting time asking people.” With that pointed explanation of how police work was conducted, he went back to texting on his phone.

  I played a few more games, the classic Galaga and Super Mario this time, to keep up appearances before leaving. A few times I caught the brown-haired boy watching me. Not in a creepy way but in a...okay...smitten way. I would look around and he would be at a game nearby with a silly little grin, goo-goo eyes, and a blush.

  I had just cleared the door when the brown-haired boy that resembled a teen pop singer stepped in front of me.

  “Oh hey there, did you remember something?” Maybe this would break the case wide open. Hope springs eternal and all that.

  He licked his lips and looked back into the game room before speaking. “I was wondering if we could talk over lunch tomorrow. I might remember something.” His cheeks bloomed a rosy glow.

  What was this? Surely I was past the age of boys having crushes. Heck, they didn’t have crushes on me much when I was their age. Didn’t he see me as ancient? As if I didn’t have enough going on with the men in my life right now without some teenager crushing on me.

  “I’m attending the Resort Management conference and they provide lunch.” Whew, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I didn’t want to give the wrong impression either.

  “Oh, that’s interesting.” He seemed unsure what to do with his hands and finally stuck them in his jeans pocket. “I, um, have wanted to learn more about that. Maybe you could tell me about your job over dinner.”

  Dinner? Of all the topics I was here to learn about, dealing with young guests with crushes wasn’t covered. Not even a panel discussion. I’m sure there would be plenty to cover, provide a child psychologist on the panel for advice. I should request it for next year.

  “I can see how this career field might interest you. But I don’t think my boyfriend would like me having dinner with you.” Okay, hopefully that was a soft landing for his young ego.

  “Where is he, your boyfriend?” His voice got soft, barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t think a guy would let a...pretty woman...like you out of his sight.” If he weren’t struggling with each word it would be ridiculous. He barely got the word woman out at all.

  “I’m pretty independent that way. I don’t need a lot of chaperoning at my age.” I cringed at that sentence. I was far too young to say at my age.

  “Independent is the new....black. That’s um, well, that’s good. I like independent women.” He said it without stuttering this time. I nearly choked.

  Oh please somebody, rescue me. Where was a diversion when I needed one? Give me a woman screaming her purse had been snatched. Somebody pull a fire alarm. Anything!

  “Oh, hey, look at the time. I gotta run. See you around.” I was power walking away.

  “My name is Justin. I’ll look for you.” I heard him say as I rushed out of sight.

  Once I was well away from the game room and down a hall, I texted Porsche. “If you’re still with Johan, ask about any evidence found.” While I waited for a return text, I kicked myself for running away from a crushing teenager. I was the adult and yet I ran like a shy girl. I blamed it on being in shock when he asked me to dinner. I waited a good minute or two before Porsche replied with a short, “ok.”

  I was looking forward to hearing how her dinner went because I had a feeling she was ready to find a guy for more than her usual month or two. But in the meantime, I wasn’t quite ready to soak in the Jacuzzi. I suspected the hot water and massaging jets would be best at the end of the day, so I could stumble into bed afterward.

  I looked around the hall where I had ducked, and my mouth fell open. I was just a few doors down from 321, Kara Caine’s room. She had blurted out her room number at dinner, but I couldn’t have missed the crisscrossed crime scene tape on the door anyway.

  I became ultra-aware of the surroundings and I felt like an isolated person in an empty hotel...with a killer. It was just me and room 321. Gulp. For a moment I swore the door expanded out and then contracted again as if it were breathing and the room wa
s alive. I reached up and slapped myself, just hard enough to reign in my galloping imagination.

  Surely, this was a sign. There wasn’t much I could find that the police hadn’t found. I understood that. I walked up to the door, fighting my fear and debating with the internal voice reminding me of the online videos showing how easy it is to still get into a room and wondered if I could manage the trick. Then the rational voice told me this was just some sort of morbid curiosity and I wouldn’t learn a single thing.

  Hey, the door looked like it wasn’t fully closed. Sometimes when you try to close these doors quietly it can slow and not latch. But surely it would be secured by the police after they processed the room. Unless somebody else saw the same videos on bypassing hotel keycard locks. There are several, but one showed using a credit card just like the old school method.

  There was a deep quiet, no sounds from the game room or any other guest room. Was it possible to hear the walls breathing? In that moment, I would have believed it.

  I stepped closer and pulled my sweater sleeve down to cover my hand, so I didn’t contaminate a crime scene with my hand or fingerprints. I gave a gentle nudge to the door and it gave slightly, silently. I heard sounds from inside, like furniture moving. Oh crap, oh crap. Breathing ceased. I pulled my phone out again, dropped it on the carpet, scooped it up and texted Porsche to get Detective Larson to room 321 pronto.

  I turned in the direction of the lobby to wait for them. The hallway looked narrow and long stretched out, miles long, and I was all alone.

  I didn’t hear the door open. I knew something was wrong when I was body slammed against the opposite wall. I saw a flurry of gloves, ski jacket, and a scarf. I hit my head on the wall from the tackle and flopped to the carpet. I decided to stay down, act like I was knocked out... Don’t say it, I was not playing dead.

  Chapter Ten

  I wasn’t completely sure how long I stayed down either. Next thing, I’m being slapped, not hard but like how guys slap aftershave on, and a voice was saying, “Open your eyes, Julienne.”

  “Quit slapping now. I was just waiting.” I managed to say.

  The slapping stopped, and I opened my eyes. I was propped up against the wall. When did that happen? Detective Larson and Porsche were crouched down around me. They helped me stand up and let go once I demonstrated I wouldn’t fall over and face plant on the floor.

  I pointed to the door, the police tape was ripped. “I noticed the door wasn’t completely closed, then I heard somebody moving in there. So, I texted you. Before I knew what happened I was tackled, and the person took off.”

  Larson narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t enter, did you?” I shook my head no and winced at the pain in my neck from the motion.

  “Can you take her back to your room, I’ll be up after I look around and secure the room again.” He spoke to Porsche as though I weren’t capable of walking.

  In our room, Porsche got me some ice in towels for my head and neck. The ice had melted, and I was wringing out the wet towels by the time Johan knocked at the door.

  He asked to use our restroom and I remembered how I had stuck the flowers in there last night.

  Sure enough, as soon as he joined us he commented, “Who got that beautiful bouquet of flowers?” His eyes were on Porsche.

  “They’re from my kinda-sorta boyfriend.” I supplied. That pretty well summed up the situation. Surprising how so few words represented a world of heartache.

  “I won’t ask.” He dismissed it quickly since it wasn’t about Porsche. Single-minded much? I suppose that comes in handy when investigating.

  He took a seat at the desk while Porsche and I sat at the foot of her bed. I was feeling a little sore and no doubt I would have a bruise or two, maybe ten or so by morning.

  “How’s the patient?” He asked.

  “I’m just fine,” I said with conviction. No more of this talking about me like I was a child, not the adult sitting right in front of them. “I have a little bump forming on my head, a sore neck, and some bruises. But, I’m fine.”

  There was no denying how they were acting like a couple. Must have been some amazing dinner. The room didn’t look like they had taken advantage of my absence either. They were taking it slow, or the good detective really was pressed for time.

  “I’ll ask a doctor to come by and check on you, but that may be the morning. There was a bad multi-car pileup on the edge of town.” He leaned back in the desk chair.

  “Tell me what you saw. Did you see who was in the room?” He took out a small notebook from his corduroy’s back pocket and Porsche handed him a guest pen.

  “Not really. I saw a brief flash of a navy ski jacket and a scarf I think. I can’t even tell you if it was a man or woman.”

  “How about height?” He made notes in his notepad.

  “I was taken by surprise with the tackle and was on the floor before I knew what happened. Hugging the carpet isn’t a good perspective for judging much.” I spread my hands and lifted a shoulder. I felt guilty about the entire mess. I was sure my dropping the phone notified the intruder I was outside, then to be caught completely off guard and steamrolled just added to my shame.

  “How did you happen to be outside that particular room?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I had just left the game room and I wanted to send a text to someone so I ducked into that hallway. Then I saw the tape and curiosity had me standing at the door when I noticed it wasn’t really closed.” I looked him in the eye because that is what happened, he didn’t ask me what I was contemplating. He so did not need to know of my brief flirtation with breaking and entering.

  “I actually have a few things to share that I heard today.” I was pleased to see his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

  I related that a teenager saw Christopher Burns (Lawsuit Chris in my mind) out and about close to two in the morning that night and that he likely didn’t have an alibi because the witness thought he’d had a fight with his wife. Larson took out a notebook and made a note.

  “That is actually helpful. He and his wife provided alibis for each other when I talked with them. I’ll be chatting with him again and see if I can shake more out of him.” He had stood up.

  “Were there any forensics found in Caine’s room? That’s the only thing I can think of to explain the intruder. He, or she, was trying to retrieve something left behind.” I attempted to have the expression that children portray of complete trust they’ll get what they asked for without any doubt. It’s a careful cross between expectation, wonder, and a pinch of desperation. I really should be practicing these looks in the mirror. I could make a list of the most likely I’d need and run through them each morning. Without that practice, I had no idea how I looked.

  He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m only telling you because you’ve been helpful with information and alerting me to the break-in of Kara Caine’s room.”

  He crossed his arms, “There wasn’t anything in the room itself, the killer likely wore gloves. There were some torn bits of green yarn and a couple of green buttons found around the body in the snow. Nothing unusual about them to help us identify anyone.”

  “That’s all?” I asked in frustration. I’d been turning up more than their forensics apparently. Which, concerned me considerably. So much for that freckled kid and his forensics solves cases now.

  Perhaps when the killer wrestled the dead weight over the balcony he or she ripped a glove, sweater, or scarf along with popping the buttons right off.

  Johan ran a hand through his hair. “Our staff is on sixteen-hour shifts to cover emergencies because of the storm. That’s delaying more dedicated attention to this case.” He looked at his phone and strode to the door, “I have to go now and relieve another officer.”

  He turned once outside the door and I heard him say to Porsche, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He gave her a sweet kiss and left.

  “I may have hit my head, but you two seem to have had a very good date.” I smiled. I moved
to get the Chocolate Torte from last night’s class and grabbed two plastic spoons I packed in the little dessert box. I learned quickly that I had to move slowly, the quick motions made my head swim.

  We sat on her bed and ate directly from the box sitting between us.

  “Come on, tell me how it went.”

  “Not much to tell, we had to wait for a table then he would get calls throughout dinner that he had to take.” She avoided looking at me and focused on the torte.

  “Gee, and somehow you two bonded and advanced to the kissing stage while he was on the phone the entire time!” I get to push, we’re best friends. That gives me some forgiveness for pushing the privacy boundaries.

  She finally looked up at me. “This is crazy, isn’t it? I mean he has a job he loves here, and I have a job I love in the Springs. There is no way this can work.” She let out a long sigh. “There isn’t a college I could get a job at here either.”

  Wow. Hold the phone. Was she actually considering moving here after just one date? She had never thought of making such concessions for anybody she had dated before.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s hard to maintain a long-distance relationship. No surprise there. But I’ve never seen you this smitten with any of guys you’ve dated to even consider moving.” I shoveled another bite of Torte into my mouth. It was really good.

  “That’s it, what you just said. The guys I’ve dated, not men. I date guys who may be classified adults by their age, but Johan is a man.” She shook her head slowly in wonder.

  “Awwww. Is that signs of growth I’m detecting? And I was present to witness this milestone.” I couldn’t resist a little payback after the years of her hounding me to just have fun dating and not be so responsible. Ha!