“It’s blue,” the woman went on, “which is a color I absolutely loathe. Your man here had barely unlocked the door before I felt depressed. You’ll have to put me somewhere else.’’
“Mrs. Wertman,” Liz said, “I’m terribly sorry, but that’s the only room available. It’s not often we’re fully booked before Memorial Day, but I’m afraid—”
“Let me speak to the manager,” Mrs. Wertman snapped.
“I am the manager,” Liz replied evenly. “And—”
Talia cleared her throat. Liz looked at her. Mrs. Wertman simply continued glaring at Liz.
“I have no problem with blue,” Talia said. “So if 203 is a different color, I’d be happy to switch.” Which wasn’t to say she was happy about rewarding Mrs. Wertman’s rudeness, but the woman was obviously going to give Liz Jermain a hard time if she didn’t get what she wanted.
Liz gave Talia a grateful smile, then turned her attention back to Mrs. Wertman. “Room 203 is peach. Will that be satisfactory?”
“It’s certainly better than blue. I find that such a cold depressing color,” she added, glancing at Talia.
“But I’m glad it doesn’t bother you. Thank you for changing with me.”
“Shadroe,” Liz said, “will you show both our guests to their rooms?”
The bell captain nodded, then led the way across the lobby and up the stairs. Talia half expected Mrs. Wertman to complain about the lack of an elevator, but she didn’t. She simply walked in majestic silence the entire way to 203.
“I hope this is more to your taste, Mrs. Wertman.” The bell captain unlocked the door and opened it for her.
Mrs. Wertman stepped inside, pronounced the room a vast improvement, then handed him a tip.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “Your luggage should be up shortly. But if there’s any delay, you call downstairs and ask for me personally. My name is Shadroe Teach.”
When Mrs. Wertman nodded and closed the door, Shadroe turned to Talia. And then he winked at her. She almost laughed out loud. She’d suspected there was a sense of humor lurking beneath his uniform, because he didn’t quite look the part of bell captain at an exclusive resort. In fact, with his weathered face, curly white hair and heavy mustache, he looked more like an old pirate.
They started off again, and as they continued down the hall, Talia absently admired the large antique pieces of furniture that had been used to decorate it.
“We’re just about there,” Shadroe told her when they turned down another hallway. “The blue room is number 225 and I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s actually nicer than 203. It gets the morning sun, and there’s a better view of the ocean from its balcony. So if the day’s warm you can have morning coffee out there and—”
A piercing scream stopped him midsentence.
AFTER THE SCREAM DIED, there was nothing but silence.
“That didn’t sound like anyone joking around, did it,” Shadroe finally said, Talia’s uneasiness mirrored on his face. “I think it must have come from Mrs. Wertman’s room, and I’d better check on it.”
He turned and began hurrying back the way they’d come, Talia trailing after him. A couple of doors opened as they passed them, and one of the guests came out into the hall. When they reached 203, there was no response to Shadroe’s knock.
“Mrs. Wertman?” he called. “Mrs. Wertman? Is everything all right in there? Oh, my God,” he whispered as the silence lengthened, “what’s happened?” Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a ring of keys and stuck one into the keyhole. Then, with a final knock, he turned the door handle.
Talia held her breath, wanting to see into the room, but almost afraid to look. When Shadroe opened the door, though, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. He stepped inside, loudly calling Mrs. Wertman’s name again, and Talia followed him.
The room was luxurious, with enough space for both an enormous canopied bed and a large sitting area. Beyond that, French doors led to the balcony. They were fully open, and the sheers covering them were billowing ghostlike in the breeze.
“This” Shadroe whispered, reaching for the handle of a door on their right, “leads to the adjoining room.” He turned the handle. “It’s locked, so she didn’t leave that way. And the far door’s just the bathroom.”
Talia looked past the mirrored closets, noting that the bathroom door was ajar an inch or two. Then she glanced toward the balcony again, murmuring, “Maybe she stepped out for a little air.”
“She should have heard me call from out there, but we’ll have a look.”
Shadroe turned back toward the hallway and assured the guest who was trying to peer in that everything was fine. Then he closed the door and they headed for the balcony. There was no one out there, but Talia could see two obvious ways off it. The drop to the ground was only twelve or thirteen feet. And the walls that separated the balcony from those of the adjoining rooms hadn’t been built with privacy in mind. They were only a little more than waist high.
But Talia couldn’t imagine Mrs. Wertman either going balcony hopping or climbing over the railing and dropping to the ground below.
When she said that to Shadroe, he replied, “No. So where is she?”
Talia swallowed hard. He knew as well as she did there was only one place left to look. And Mrs. Wertman should have heard him call from in there, too. The door hadn’t even been tightly closed. “The bathroom?” she suggested uneasily.
“You’d better wait out here,” Shadroe told her, stepping back into the room.
Talia ignored his advice and followed on his heels. But when he called Mrs. Wertman’s name a final time, then pushed the bathroom door fully open, she desperately wished she’d stayed on the balcony.
The trial photos of Maria Carpaccio’s body had been gruesome enough. This, though, was the real thing. Mrs. Wertman was lying on the bathroom floor. In a spreading pool of blood.
Chapter Two
Shadroe Teach might have closed the bathroom door, but an image of the body in all its gory vividness continued to hover before Talia’s eyes.
And she knew thoughts of it were bothering Shadroe, too. There wasn’t much doubt, given the way he was pacing Mrs. Wertman’s room. Or, more accurately, the late Mrs. Wertman’s room. He’d established the woman was dead before he’d called down to the desk for Liz Jermain and spoken with someone from security.
Dead. The word kept echoing in Talia’s mind, and every time it did her throat went dry. If she hadn’t offered to trade rooms, she wouldn’t be sitting here now on this love seat in room 203. She’d be lying shot through the heart on the bathroom floor, because she’d have been the one to walk in on the killer.
She tried to stop thinking about that by focusing on Liz, who was still on the phone. The manager’s first call had been to ask someone to find Cameron Bradshaw, who, she’d explained, was her grandmother’s husband and a retired judge. Now she was on the phone to the mainland, reporting Mrs. Wertman’s murder to the police. She answered a few more questions, then finally hung up.
“Living on an island has its disadvantages,” she said, looking over at Talia. “We’re within the jurisdiction of the county sheriff’s department, but their people have to get here courtesy of the Charleston Harbor Police, so it’s going to take a while. And as far as hotel security goes, they’ve gone on red alert but the timing couldn’t be worse. Our chief of security resigned last week, and his assistant doesn’t have nearly enough experience for something like this.”
Turning her attention to Shadroe, she said, “Shad? When you heard the scream…how long was it after you’d left Mrs. Wertman?”
“Not more than a couple of minutes.”
“Then whoever killed her must have already been in here when she arrived. And hid in the bathroom when he heard the three of you at the door. Does that sound right?”
Talia nodded. “It would explain why she didn’t scream right away.”
“Exactly. She didn’t see him until she went into the bathroom.”
<
br /> Talia’s gaze flickered uneasily to the bathroom door. The next few times she walked into a bathroom, she’d be feeling more than a little anxious.
“But why did he hide?” Liz asked. “He obviously left by the balcony, so why didn’t he take off as soon as he heard someone?”
“He probably panicked,” Talia said. “Which would also account for the murder. I know that sounds extreme, but some people instinctively react to fear with aggression—the same way some dogs do.”
When Liz looked at her curiously, Talia shrugged. “Understanding why people behave the way they do is my profession. I’m a psychologist.”
“Well…I guess you should know then. But something about simple panic just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Why not?” Shadroe asked.
“I think it’s that you heard the scream but not the shots, which has to mean there was a silencer on the gun. Does that seem strange to you two? Or do most people who carry guns use silencers?”
Shadroe said he didn’t have a clue, and Talia didn’t know the answer either. All she knew was they hadn’t heard any shots, but Mrs. Wertman had three bullet holes in her chest.
“We won’t be able to keep this quiet,” Liz was saying to Shadroe. “Not once the sheriff’s people arrive. So how do we tell the guests? Lord, none of my hotel management courses even touched on how to cope with a murder.”
“Don’t you worry,” Shadroe told her. “The Judge will know what to do.”
As if he’d been outside waiting for his cue, a man tapped on the door and walked in. He had a kind grandfatherly face and gray hair that badly needed combing. His stained khaki pants were held up by braces, his well-worn sneakers had big knots in the laces, and the gray cardigan he was wearing over his checkered shirt looked as old as he did. All in all, if Talia had seen him under different circumstances she’d have taken him for a retired gardener rather than a retired judge.
Liz introduced them, adding, “Talia is one of our jurors.”
“Ah.” He smiled, then turned his attention to Liz. “What’s the problem?”
She shook her head, as if hot sure how to tell him, then came straight out with it. “A guest was just murdered. She walked in on somebody—a thief, I guess—and he shot her. Her body’s in the bathroom.”
“Well…that certainly is a problem. And she was also a juror, I take it? Rooming with Talia?”
“No, she wasn’t a juror. Talia was simply with Shad when he found the body. Both Mrs. Wertman and Talia had just checked in, and Shad was taking Talia to her room when they heard a scream.”
“Well, this isn’t good,” the Judge murmured. “But thank heavens at least your grandmother is away. If she hadn’t picked this week to go and visit her brother…Well, homicide isn’t something she’d enjoy having to deal with. I remember when I was presiding over a murder trial she’d get upset if I mentioned a word about it. So a murder right here in the hotel…well, I guess I’d best have a look.” He crossed the room, then paused at the bathroom door and glanced back. “You have called the authorities, Liz?”
“Yes. And Shad notified security. They’re watching for anything suspicious.”
The Judge nodded, then gingerly opened the bathroom door and gazed in. “Did someone check for a pulse?” he asked, glancing back again. “Just in case?”
“I did,” Shadroe told him. “And she’s graveyard dead, Judge.”
“I see. In that case, I’ll just close this door again. The police don’t like their crime scenes tampered with. They aren’t even going to like the fact we’ve all been in here, so perhaps I’ll call the sheriff and explain the situation to him personally. But before I do, someone had best tell me the particulars. Shad?”
The Judge listened intently while Shadroe repeated the same details he’d told Liz.
“Hmm,” the old man said when, the story was finished.
“Hmm what?” Liz asked.
“Well…I’m not so sure about your idea that the fellow was a thief. It doesn’t take a thief long to realize a hotel room is unoccupied. So unless it was just a case of incredibly bad timing…”
“Yes?” Liz prompted.
“Well, it seems to me there’s another obvious hypothesis. Perhaps he was waiting in here specifically to kill Mrs. Wertman.”
“Oh, I don’t think-”
“Don’t be so quick to rule it out, Liz. He could easily have established what room you’d be putting her in, then come in and waited for her to arrive.”
“No, that just can’t be it, because this isn’t the room I intended for her. I switched her and Talia at the last second. This was supposed to have been Talia’s room.”
“Oh,” the Judge murmured.
Talia looked at him, suddenly cold all over. If his obvious hypothesis was right, the killer hadn’t been waiting for Mrs. Wertman. He’d been waiting for her.
TALIA HESITATED when Shad Teach opened the door of room 225 and handed her the key. The last time she’d walked into a room there’d been a dead body in it. What if, this time, there was a live murderer?
“Don’t you be worrying,” Shad said. “The Judge is always coming up with his own private theories about things. He says when something unusual happens, people should consider all the possibilities and shouldn’t just accept the obvious. Says they should ask themselves if what seems obvious is necessarily the truth.” She forced a smile. “And what do you say, Shad?” “I say what seems obvious usually is the truth. So there’s no sense worrying about all those other possibilities. What we had was a thief who panicked, right?”
“I hope so,” she murmured. Unfortunately, though, the Judge had a point. Their thief theory might have been the obvious one, but that hardly guaranteed it was right. And when it came to the possibility someone might have intended to murder her rather than Mrs. Wertman, it was darned hard not to worry.
“Why don’t I have a quick look around?” Shad suggested. “Just make sure housekeeping hasn’t slipped up on anything.”
Knowing he really meant he’d just make sure there wasn’t a killer hiding in the bathroom, she waited in the doorway while he slid the closet doors open, checked the bathroom and stuck his head out onto the balcony.
Her suitcases, she noted, had been delivered to the room, but she didn’t feel the slightest desire to go in and unpack. In fact, if she had any choice in the matter, she and her luggage would be on the next ferry back to Charleston.
“See?” Shad headed over to the door. “Everything’s fine. The Judge got you scared for nothing. But look, if anything worries you, just call downstairs and ask for me personally. I’ll come right up.”
“Thank you,” she said, trying not to remember that the last person he’d told to call down and ask for him personally had been dead before she’d had time to call anyone.
When Talia began searching in her purse for a tip, Shad motioned her not to bother and started back down the hall. Which meant she had to go into the room.
She tried telling herself it was a most inviting shade of blue. And that it was every bit as beautifully furnished as the peach room. Plus, it had the bonus—as Shad had promised—of a better ocean view. She could get a glimpse of the water from where she was standing, so she should go inside and have a good look. Besides, she could hardly spend the rest of her life in this doorway.
Just as she forced her feet to start moving, the door to the room beside hers opened. A moment later Cade Hailey walked out into the hall and smiled at her. It made her feel as if the sun had suddenly appeared from behind the clouds.
“There you are,” he said. “I stopped by the desk a few minutes ago and discovered we’re next-door neighbors. But when I tried knocking there was no answer.”
“No, I was…delayed getting here.”
“Oh. Well, I’ve been looking around, and there’s a terrific bar. Why don’t we go have a quiet drink before dinner?”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Actually it sounded like a great idea. She wasn’t much of a dri
nker, but she could sure use one at the moment. And she could also use a little of Cade’s company. If anything on earth was going to take her mind off what had happened, being with him was it.
“See you later, Harlan,” he called into his room. Then he closed the door on the sound of Geraldo Rivera shouting about something and gave her a look that said he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be rooming with Harlan Gates.
It was easy to understand why. Harlan was in his early thirties, the same as Cade, but that was probably the only thing they had in common.
Cade had lived alone since his divorce, ran his own business and spent most of his leisure time outdoors. Harlan both lived and worked with his mother. They ran a motel on the outskirts of Charleston, and aside from that his only interest in life seemed to be computers. He’d brought a laptop along to the trial every day, often playing with it during breaks, rather than socializing with the other jurors.
“At least Harlan’s pretty quiet,” she said when she finally thought of something positive.
“Maybe he doesn’t talk much,” Cade muttered as they started down the hall, “but that doesn’t mean he’s pretty quiet. Did you notice he brought a printer along? As well as his laptop?”
“Uh-huh.” He’d sat on the ferry with both items tucked safely between his legs—watching over them like a mother duck watching over her ducklings.
“Well, when the printer’s doing its thing it sounds like a slow machine gun. And whether it’s going or not, he’s got the TV on full blast. Then he sits with one eye on the tube and the other on the screen of his laptop. And every time there’s a commercial, he stops keyboarding and starts channel surfing. We’re going to have to establish some ground rules, or he’ll drive me crazy.”
Talia laughed, but she’d been only half concentrating on what Cade was saying. Her attention had been straying to each of the decorative armoires and chests in the hall. Earlier she’d been admiring them. Now they struck her as ideal hiding places for a murderer.
Love And Lies Page 2