Deadly Summer Nights

by Vicki Delany

  “Oh yeah.” Velvet gave me a wicked grin. “Everyone’s talking about it. Mrs. B. slipped away from the family breakfast table and cornered Luke in the hallway. She told him her husband was going back to the city on Sunday evening and thus the coast would be clear that night after the children were in bed. One of the ladies at the Berkowitz table, who just happened to be lingering around the corner of the same hallway, overheard and rushed to tell Mr. B. about it. Mr. B. was still enjoying his scrambled eggs and toast, and although the lady should have tried to keep her voice down, she didn’t, and the entire table heard. Whether Mr. B. cares or not what his wife does for entertainment when he’s away doesn’t matter. He cares—a lot—about being the subject of gossip, particularly as some of the husbands at their table had the bad manners to chuckle.”

  “Never a dull moment at Haggerman’s Catskills Resort.” I reached for the phone. “Before we go, I’ll let the booking agencies know we have a three-bedroom luxury cabin in a prime location that has unexpectedly become available.”

  We arrived at the Red Spot Diner at ten thirty. The restaurant was about a quarter full, breakfast rush over, lunch crowd still to arrive.

  “You again,” Mrs. McGreevy said when she saw me.

  I gave her my most dazzling smile. “I told my friend here about your egg creams, and she said she had to try one. Didn’t you, Velvet?”

  “I did? I mean, I sure did. Nothing I love more than an egg cream.”

  Mrs. McGreevy’s face cracked, just a fraction. “Best in the Catskills.” She waved her arm in the air. “Sit anywhere you like.”

  “Is Lucinda in?” I asked.

  The face stiffened. “Lucinda’s working.”

  “Lucinda is always working.” My friend came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “In fact, Lucinda has been working so hard, she’s going to sit down and have an egg cream and a good gossip.” She brushed her lips across her mother’s cheek. “You don’t mind, do you, Mom?”

  Mrs. McGreevy struggled to contain a smile.

  Lucinda led Velvet and me to a vacant booth at the back of the diner, calling, “Three egg creams, please.”

  “I’ll have a grilled cheese sandwich, too, if that’s okay,” I said.

  “Of course,” Lucinda said. “How about you?” she asked Velvet. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “Not for me, thanks. The egg cream will be enough. I’m Velvet McNally, by the way.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I introduced them as we slid into the red vinyl-covered benches of the booth. Overhead the fans turned, doing not much more than stirring the hot, humid air.

  Lucinda pulled off her hair net with a contented sigh and wiped beads of sweat off her brow as her black hair tumbled around her face. “It’s nice to take a break. We had a line out the door this morning, and as soon as they were all served, we had to start getting ready for lunch in case it’s more of the same. What do you do at Haggerman’s, Velvet?”

  “I play all day long. I swim.” Velvet pretended to do a doggy paddle. “I do exercises.” She lifted her arms and twisted from side to side. “This afternoon I’m playing tennis.” Imitation of a serve. “Tonight, I’m dancing until midnight.” She spread her fingers and moved her hands back and forth as though catching a beat. “The rest of the time, I look beautiful.” She put her hands to her chin and fluttered her eyelashes. “Believe me, it’s as exhausting as your job. I’m Elizabeth’s outdoor activities director.”

  Lucinda laughed.

  “Have you heard any more talk about the death at Haggerman’s?” I asked.

  “Not a word. Yesterday’s news, I guess. You heard about the fire at the Shady Pines Bungalow Colony?”

  “I saw a picture in this morning’s paper, but I didn’t read the article. What happened?”

  “It started in the middle of the afternoon yesterday, and everyone was down at the lake, so no one was hurt, but one of the cabins burned to the ground. People say the fire was set deliberately.”

  “Why would anyone do that?” Velvet asked.

  “The guy who owns that place owns a handful of the cheaper bungalow colonies around. Shady by name, shady by nature, I’ve heard. They say he has some debts back in the city. Debts to the sort of people you don’t want to be in debt to. A couple of old-timers were in here this morning, talking about it when I served them their eggs and hash browns.”

  “Do you get much of that sort of thing around here?” Velvet asked. “Trouble from the city, I mean?”

  “No, we don’t. Must have been an extreme case. Chief Monahan came in for breakfast earlier, and all the guys in here wanted to ask him about it. Chief’s never one to keep quiet, not if he can be the center of attention. He can only concentrate on one thing at a time, Elizabeth. I’m afraid your murder will go on the back burner. Not that he’s ever going to catch the person who torched that cabin. He’ll be long, long gone.”

  “How about the FBI guys? There were two of them at Haggerman’s Thursday morning. Have you had them in here?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. And that lot stand out around here like a bunch of sore thumbs in winter mittens.”

  I pondered that for a moment. Charlie had also said Monahan couldn’t think of two things at the same time, and it would appear the fire, plus Francis’s employment situation, now occupied all his attention. But surely the FBI wouldn’t just lose interest and wander away. Would they?

  Three egg creams arrived. Velvet’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, my goodness, that looks good.” She picked up her long-handled spoon and dug in.

  “What do you know about Richard Kennelwood?” I asked Lucinda after I’d enjoyed my first taste of the drink.

  Lucinda grinned at me around her straw. “I’m starting to get the feeling you’re friends with me only as a source of gossip.”

  I grinned back. Next to me Velvet slurped happily away.

  “That’s not it,” I said. “It’s the egg creams.”

  “Anything to keep customers coming in.”

  “Here you go, hon.” The waitress dropped my sandwich in front of me. Gooey orange cheese leaked from between slices of grilled bread oozing melted butter. I hadn’t asked for a side of fries, but she’d added a mountain of them anyway. Velvet helped herself to a potato slice.

  “I told you about the history of Kennelwood Hotel,” Lucinda said. “Family place, Jerome’s father opened it.”

  I nodded.

  “It does pretty well, has a steady base of people who’ve been coming since their grandparents’ day. The staff are not a particularly happy bunch. They say Jerome’s a slave driver, but what can they do? It’s a summer job. Jerome and his only son, Richard, never got on. Five years or so ago, Richard up and left. He got a job running a big hotel in New York City, I heard. Jerome had a bad heart attack a few months ago, and Richard came back to manage their place.”

  “What’s their reputation around town?” I asked.

  “Like I said, the staff complains, but there are worse places to work, let me tell you.”

  “Like Haggerman’s,” Velvet mumbled through sunken cheeks as she sucked at her straw.

  “Most amusing,” I replied.

  “There are three levels of hotel in the Catskills.” Lucinda lifted her left hand and spread the fingers. She pushed down her index finger. “One, the big, expensive, famous places: the Concord, Grossinger’s, Kutsher’s, Kennelwood.” Down went the middle finger. “Two, the smaller, less famous but still nice hotels with good reputations, like yours.” Ring finger. “Then the bungalow colonies and the small, cheap hotels.” She spread both hands in the air. “Jerome Kennelwood is friends with the owners and managers of the first group, and he pays not the slightest bit of attention to anything to do with the last lot. The middle group? There are stories. He can be ruthless about undermining what he sees as the competition.”

  “Why is
Haggerman’s his competition?” Velvet plucked another fry off my plate. “Aside from being next door. Aren’t the Concord and those places competing with him for the same guests?”

  “Partly because the owners are his cronies, and he knows that if he attempts to undercut them, they’ll gladly return the favor. Also because people who come to the Catskills year after year tend to be loyal to the place they like. Not many families who’ve stayed at the Concord are going to move to a place like Kennelwood, not if they’re happy with the Concord. But undermine the less well-known places, and their guests might take a look at Kennelwood Hotel for next year’s stay.”

  “Nasty,” Velvet said.

  “That’s business. It’s because my parents are such nice people they owned a single diner in Summervale and don’t have a restaurant empire. Tony and I”—she grinned—“intend to have that restaurant empire one day.”

  “Who’s Tony?” Velvet asked.

  Lucinda explained, and Velvet said, “what about Richard Kennelwood? Is he like his dad when it comes to business? But more important, is he married?”

  “You interested?” Lucinda asked.

  “Not for me. He likes Elizabeth.”

  Color rushed into my face. “He does not.” I put my crumpled napkin on the table.

  “He does, too. Are you going to eat the rest of that sandwich?”

  “Help yourself,” I said, and she did so.

  “Richard isn’t married, far as I know,” Lucinda said. “I’ve never heard anyone say anything bad about him, but early days yet. He just took over this season. The staff seem happier, though. A bunch were in here the other night, and they said the hotel was ramping up hiring. Jerome’s famous for not taking on enough staff and then expecting the workers he does have to do more than they think’s reasonable for a day’s work.”

  I thought of the uncleaned swimming pool and stale dinner rolls.

  “Which brings us full circle,” Lucinda said, “back to Chief Monahan. He knows which side his bread’s buttered on, and he makes sure he keeps himself on the good side of Jerome Kennelwood and the other big owners. The little guy—or girl—like you and me? Not so much. Lois, who works in the office at the police station, says the chief and Deputy Dave have been known to argue about that.”

  “Do you know everything that goes on in this town?” I asked.

  “Pretty much,” Lucinda said. “Not many places around here stay open all winter, so the locals are used to coming here. Helps that the police station is on one side of us and the newspaper office on the other. Lois, for example, comes in here for lunch every Tuesday and Thursday all year round. Thursday is hot-turkey-sandwich day, and that’s what she has. She sometimes comes on Fridays also, depending on what’s the day’s special.”

  While we’d been talking, people had been coming and going. Lucinda had taken the seat facing into the room, and I noticed her continually checking out what was going on behind me. I heard a burst of chatter as the door opened, bringing with it a wave of warm sticky air as a group came in and asked for a table for six. Lucinda dipped the spoon into her glass and scooped up the last drops of soda and chocolate syrup. “I’d better get back at it. You might work hard in that swimming pool, Velvet, but I’d exchange it for a hot kitchen at this time of year in a flash.”

  “My offer’s still open,” I said. “Dinner and dancing. Any night.”

  “Thanks.” She scooted across the bench seat. I opened my purse.

  “Your money’s no good here,” Lucinda said.

  I slapped bills onto the table. “It most certainly is.”

  “She’s nice,” Velvet said as we drove out of town.

  “She is nice, and her fiancé, Tony, is an absolute doll. If she doesn’t take up my invitation for them to come to the hotel one night soon, I’m going to call him and order him to bring her.” When we got back, I was pleased to see that the police car was gone from the front of the hotel. We didn’t need our guests to keep remembering that a man had died here under suspicious circumstances.

  Then again, a man had died here under suspicious circumstances. I’d like to know what the police were thinking about that, but Monahan definitely wouldn’t tell me, and Deputy Dave would be unlikely to.

  It was entirely possible the police had hit a dead end and no one would ever know what happened. Streams of people pass through our doors all the time. Taxis come and go, deliverymen drop off supplies. We employ enough people to populate a small town, hundreds of guests are in residence at any one time, and people from other hotels come to Haggerman’s for dinner or to enjoy the entertainment and then leave at the end of the evening.

  It was terrible what had happened at the Shady Pines, but no one had been hurt, and the fire had taken police and newspaper focus off Haggerman’s, so that was a good thing from my point of view. Though not from that of the employees and guests at Shady Pines.

  “That was fun,” Velvet said. “We need to get away from this place more often. I’ll catch you later. Don’t forget to tell Olivia about the beauty pageant.”

  “I’ll do that now, before I forget.”

  Velvet ran off, skipping lightly down the path, her long ponytail streaming out behind her. I watched her go, as the grains of an idea for an advertisement began forming in my mind. The sun shone on her golden hair and bounced off the lake in front of her, full of swimmers and paddleboaters. To Velvet’s left sat cabins one and two, fresh white paint, wide-pillared porches with comfortable chairs. To her right were the lush flower beds and freshly mowed grass in front of the main building. At this time of year the gardens were at their absolute best. A photograph taken from this spot, particularly if it was in color, would be marvelous. Expensive, yes, but fabulous advertising for the delights to be found at Haggerman’s Catskills Resort. Who wouldn’t want to spend their summer enjoying this view?

  An overall-clad figure was bent over a bed of red and white geraniums, moving slowly through the plants. A trash can was on the ground next to him, and he tossed weeds and dead foliage into it as he worked. As I watched he straightened, put one hand to his lower back, and leaned backward in a nice stretch. He caught sight of me and immediately returned his attention to the plants.

  “Good morning, Francis,” I said.

  “Miz Grady. I wasn’t s-slacking off. I was—”

  “Enjoying your surroundings. I also like to take a moment out of a busy day simply to enjoy being here.”

  He blinked in confusion, and when he realized I wasn’t reprimanding him for breathing, he grinned at me.

  “I hope you enjoy your new position,” I said.

  “Hurts my back.” He had a slight stutter, and the words came out slowly as he selected them with care.

  “You’ll get used to it eventually. You should wear a hat to keep your head covered. That sun gets hot.”

  “Yes, m’m.” He returned to his work.

  He seemed nice enough. His father hadn’t needed to threaten me not to fire him. I couldn’t forget that Francis had spent time in prison, but I could hope the stint in jail had cured him of whatever bad tendencies he might have had.

  Instead of going to find Olivia, as I’d originally intended, I took a back path to the staff cabins. I heard rustling in the trees, and I spun around, holding my breath. A moment ago, birds had been chirping. Now, all was quiet. A branch snapped. Wide-trunked oaks and maples, branches heavy with leaves, edged the path; the undergrowth was thick with struggling saplings and forest decay. Inside the forest all was dark except for a few patches of dappled sunlight breaking through the canopy. I could see no further than the first line of trees.

  “Who’s out there?” I called. “I’m sorry, but this area is out-of-bounds to guests.”

  Dead leaves rustled. A deer probably. Maybe not. “If you’re a staff member, you shouldn’t be lurking in the woods, either.”

  All was quiet. In
the distance I could hear the laughter of children. Usually at this time of day, staff would be coming and going, up and down the path. At the moment, I might have been the only person left in the world. I thought of Harold Westenham, taking a moment to enjoy a quiet cigarette. I’d briefly suspected Louis Frandenheim of killing the man. Louis had left Haggerman’s—I’d seen him off myself—but had he left the Catskills? Was he watching me now, wanting revenge for throwing him out? Was he hoping to be able to comfort my mother after my . . . death?

  My heart pounded, my hands were clammy. I cast my eyes around me, looking for something I could use as a weapon if needed. The forest floor was littered with dead twigs, nothing that wouldn’t snap in a mild wind.

  I told myself to calm down. It had been a deer, and it had slipped silently away when it sensed my presence.

  I let out a sigh of relief and turned to continue on my way. Behind me a branch snapped, dead leaves crunched, and I whirled around to see something large and solid hurling out of the woods.

  Chapter 16

  “Winston! For heaven’s sake.”

  The dog leapt on me, eyes bright, tongue flapping, stubby tail wagging with sheer delight. Dead leaves and broken twigs were trapped in his short fur, and his paws were covered in mud. I reached out and plucked a twig off his ear. “You scared me half to death.”

  I’d have to have a word with Aunt Tatiana. Again. We couldn’t have her dog running wild on the hotel grounds. Fortunately, he seemed to know he had to stick to the back trails and the edge of the woods, but I dreaded the day he’d frighten an elderly lady into a heart attack or steal an ice cream cone from a child. “You’ll have to come with me,” I said. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Elizabeth, is that you? I thought I heard your voice. What are you doing out there?” Jim Westenham stood on the porch of the repurposed guest building.

  “I’m wrestling with this vicious beast,” I said. “Come on, Winston.” I slapped the back of my leg, and the dog fell into step beside me.