by Shéa MacLeod
It wasn’t that I had a personal thing against Piper. It was just that she was so darn...flawless. At five foot eight and a hundred thirty pounds tops, she had the perfect figure. At least according to today’s standards. Me, I’d have been in vogue about fifty years or so ago.
With her milky-white skin, flaming-red hair, and slightly tilted green eyes, she was, in a word, perfect. No wonder Jason had tossed Natasha for her. I probably would have, too. Especially if her personality was anything like her looks. I couldn’t imagine Natasha had been an easy person to live with. Still, it didn’t justify what they’d done, to my way of thinking.
Piper buckled herself in and gave the driver another blinding smile. “Ready when you are.” Even her voice was charming and sexy, doggone it.
As the van swung out into traffic, Maggie and Lu began talking excitedly about the history of the mansion we were to visit. Well, Maggie started chatting. Lu mostly nodded her head, earrings shooting colorful sparks of light around the van.
I expected Piper to start chatting Lucas up, but instead she bent over her smart phone, stabbing rapidly at the screen with her forefinger. I tried to see what she was typing, but all I could see was that it was a text...and it was to Jason Winters. Big surprise. The two were still a couple, after all. Which was so odd. I mean Jason was not bad looking, but he was at least twenty years older than Piper, pudgy around the middle, and balding. Not to mention that since the split with Natasha, he was out of a job. Not the sort of person I expected a woman like Piper to go for. At least not in the long run. Although now Jason would probably inherit Natasha’s money and that meant he’d be a very rich man.
Unless, of course, Natasha had changed her will or something. Which was possible. Even likely. I made a mental note to find out who inherited. Whoever it was would have an excellent motive. But if it wasn’t Jason, why would Piper still be with him? Could they actually be in love? I’d need to watch them more closely to decide. Anything was possible. Love was crazy like that.
Time to dive in. I cleared my throat. “You’re Piper Ross, right?”
She glanced up from the screen, startled. A tiny frown line marred her forehead before smoothing away. “Um, yes. Why?”
I gave her a bland smile. “Viola Roberts. I’m really sorry about Natasha. I know you worked for her for a long time.”
A scowl crossed her face, quickly replaced by that dazzling smile. Aha! So, Piper Ross wasn’t so perfect and perky. Whatever she might pretend in public, she really didn’t like Natasha.
“Oh, yes. It’s very sad, isn’t it?” she said, not sounding at all sincere.
“Very. Such a shocking thing, you know.”
“Oh, yes.” She didn’t sound at all shocked.
“Jason isn’t interested in haunted mansions, I take it?”
She looked confused for a moment. “Oh, he has a meeting today. With some lawyer.” She shrugged. “I don’t really understand legal stuff, and I figured it would be boring just sitting around the hotel.”
So, Piper was playing the ditzy young thing. I didn’t buy it for a moment. The woman who helped Natasha claw her way to the top was not a stupid woman, but I figured it would behoove me to play along.
“Oh, I hear you.” A lawyer. How interesting. Could it be an estate lawyer? Or perhaps a criminal one?
“Do you know which lawyer Jason is seeing?” I blurted.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
“Well,” I scrambled for a reason other than the obvious, “research, you know. For my next book.”
“Don’t you write historicals?” she asked.
“Sure. Mostly. But I’m expanding into mysteries, and there’s a lawyer in my novel, you see. Only I don’t know any lawyers. I’d love to ask questions.”
She seemed to relax somewhat, the dopey expression settling over her like the perfect mask it was. She gave a little shrug. “Sorry. No idea. You’ll have to ask Jason.” She turned back to her phone screen.
I found it odd that Jason wouldn’t tell her what lawyer he was meeting or that she would care so little about it, but I didn’t want to press my luck. Lucas eyed me over the top of Piper’s head. From his expression, he knew exactly what I was up to. Well, more power to him.
I searched for something else to ask her. Not that I was lacking in questions, but it was all about the phrasing. Piper wasn’t just a pretty face, obviously. She was on high alert, and I didn’t want her to realize I was more than just another nosey writer.
Cheryl came to my rescue. “Gosh, that was awful, wasn’t it? Did you know Viola found the body? I mean, I didn’t know anything about it until I woke up the next morning.” She shuddered as she turned to me with wide eyes. “You’re just so brave.”
I almost snorted with laughter at her innocent act. “Didn’t have much choice, did I? Although I’ll think twice before walking the beach at night again, let me tell you. What if the killer was lurking in the dark?”
“You could have been killed!” Maggie boomed from the front. I hadn’t realized that she and Lu were listening.
Cheryl nodded, expression eager. “That’s what I keep saying. I’m so glad I went straight to bed. Where were you when you heard about it, Maggie?”
Light glinted off the lenses of Maggie’s glasses. “Lu and I were at breakfast. Annabelle MacDonald told us over coffee. You know Annabelle, right? She writes those Highland romances. Popular what with that show on TV now.”
I nodded. I didn’t know Annabelle personally, but I was familiar with her work. They mostly featured pictures of half-naked men in kilts on the covers. I approved most heartily.
“How about you, Piper?” Cheryl asked innocently. “How did you hear? You must have been really shocked since you used to work with her and everything.”
“Oh, of course. Very shocked,” Piper agreed pleasantly. “Of course, we didn’t know anything about it until the police came to Jason’s room to notify him.”
And question him, no doubt. He was, after all, next of kin. Plus, didn’t they always suspect the spouse first?
“We went to bed right after the party,” Piper continued. “Jason was kind of drunk.”
I wondered if she was telling the truth. And if Jason was so drunk, though from what I’d seen he hadn’t been but perhaps a little tipsy, could Piper have slipped out without him knowing and murdered Natasha? Anything was possible. And Piper had so many motives: revenge for Natasha firing her, getting her hand on Natasha’s money (if Jason was the heir), just plain old hatred. Time would tell, but I was keeping a close eye on the nearly perfect Piper.
I slanted a glance toward Lucas, who was looking particularly handsome in a heather gray t-shirt that matched his eyes. He’d changed since breakfast. I’d be keeping an eye on the Handsome Author Dude, too. Not because I suspected him of murder, but because I didn’t want him falling for Piper’s obvious charms. For Cheryl’s sake, of course.
AS WE SPILLED OUT OF the van, we were greeted by a gray-haired gentleman dressed neatly in khaki slacks and a white button-down shirt. His nametag proclaimed him to be “George,” and he had the most enormous moustache I’d ever seen on anyone born after 1800.
“Hiya folks.” He waved us over. “Ready to see some ghosts?” He beamed at us.
I had a hard time believing we’d see anything in broad daylight—weren’t ghosts supposed to be most active at night?—but George was very enthusiastic, as were Maggie and Lu. Even Cheryl seemed excited, and Lucas already had a notebook and pen out. Very old school. Piper, oddly enough, seemed bored by the whole thing, examining her cuticles and sighing heavily like she was being put upon. Which led a person to wonder why she’d bothered to come? Surely there was plenty to do back at the resort if ghost hunting wasn’t her thing.
With the van empty, the driver promised to collect us in ninety minutes, then zipped out of the parking lot. The hot sun glared down, melting any remaining makeup from my face. No doubt I looked like a raccoon. A frizzy-haired raccoon. The humidity was
turning my hair into something out of a bad ’50s sci-fi movie. One where the heroine got electrocuted.
George led us up the wide front steps and through the double doors into the hotel lobby. He was already cheerfully informing us of the details of the original owner’s death and how he was said to haunt the place. I tried really hard not to roll my eyes. I wouldn’t say I was a skeptic exactly. More that I preferred to see the evidence of something, and I’d yet to see any evidence that ghosts were real.
Everyone else seemed eager to catch all the gory details. Only Piper was as unimpressed as I was, surreptitiously sneaking glances at her phone. She wasn’t texting, so I wondered if she was waiting for a call, and if so, from whom? Maybe she was planning to meet someone at the Don CeSar.
A little bubble of excitement zinged at the thought. How clandestine! Maybe it was a secret lover. Maybe she was cheating on Jason. Scandal!
Inside, the hotel was like something out of a fairy tale. The wide entry hall was paved in ivory marble and lined on either side with matching marble pillars. Overhead, massive gold and crystal chandeliers bathed the place in sparkling light. Everything was bright, elegant, and exactly the opposite of what I expected from a haunted mansion.
George had switched to stories of a ghost in a white suit walking along the beach. Apparently also the original owner. I supposed there were worse ways to spend the afterlife.
As he led us upstairs, George launched into an account of a female ghost in a flowing gown often spotted walking the hotel halls. “A raven-haired beauty, she is.”
“Have you actually seen her?” Cheryl asked breathlessly. Her eyes were wide, and she had her cell phone out, videoing the tour.
“You bet,” George said with a grin. “It was late one night. I’d just finished a tour and was rounding this very corner.” With a dramatic flourish, he waved to the corner in question, which, frankly, looked like every other corner in the hotel. “And there she was. Staring out the window as if waiting for her true love,” he finished melodramatically.
Lu sighed at the romantic tale. Maggie strode to the corner to look out the window as if expecting the lady ghost to appear immediately.
As George droned on about other ghost sightings, I wandered a bit away from the others toward the sweeping staircase. Honestly, I was more interested in the architecture and design of the place. According to George, it had been built in the 1920s. Very Great Gatsby. A little late for my era, but perhaps I could write a story about it. Some Western cowboy, maybe from Montana, goes east for...something. Hmm... An inheritance, maybe? He would meet a rich heiress, and then...
Before I could finish my thought, I felt a hard shove from behind. I stumbled, my foot hitting the top step. Somebody screamed. And then I was falling.
Chapter 10
Appointment with Death
FOR A BRIEF MOMENT, I thought about how people talk about their hearts jumping into their throats. Because I was pretty sure mine actually did.
It was as if time ceased to exist. Everything around me froze as I tumbled in slow motion through empty air. And then it sped up as I crashed, knees first, into the first step. Flailing like a lunatic, I managed to grab the balustrade and halt myself mid-fall. I wrenched my shoulder in the process, but it was better than smashing my skull on the marble steps.
Above me, I could hear people shouting, but I wasn’t sure what they were saying. My hearing was fuzzy all of a sudden.
Gasping for breath, I turned my head to glance up the staircase. The entire group was gathered at the top of the landing, horrified expressions plastered on their faces. Even Piper had been jarred from her ennui and appeared suitably startled.
“Oh, my goodness,” Cheryl managed to gasp, her face so white it was if she’d seen a ghost. Mine. “What happened?” She clattered down the stairs, flip-flops slapping against the stone. “We heard you scream. Did you slip? You could have been killed.” She tried to haul me to my feet, but only managed to wrench my already throbbing arm. I must have winced because she blanched even whiter. “You’re hurt! Somebody call 911.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I finally managed.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Lucas interrupted, joining us. The stair was getting crowded. “Looks like she’s in one piece. Just a few bumps and bruises?”
I nodded. “I’m fine. My shoulder hurts a bit, that’s all. From where I grabbed the railing.” And my knees throbbed like nobody’s business. I was going to have some nice purple bruises in no time.
“What happened?” Cheryl repeated. “Did you slip?”
“No,” I said, eyeing the watchers above. Having no idea who was the guilty party, or even if they were part of our group, I lowered my voice. “I was pushed.”
For a minute, I was afraid Cheryl would pass out. “Somebody tried to kill you,” she squeaked.
“Shh. Keep it down.” I eyed the group again, but no one seemed to have heard her.
Lucas glanced up, too. “You think it was one of us?”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I don’t want to let on I suspect anyone.”
Lucas offered his arm and helped me limp up the stairs. After ensuring I was fine and receiving my refusal of a trip to the hospital, George continued the tour. I limped along behind the rest of the group with Cheryl all but glued to my side.
“You think this had anything to do with Natasha’s murder?” she whispered.
“Of course it does,” I said, trying to ignore the pain in my knees as I limped down yet another hall. “Being as that I don’t usually get pushed down stairs, it has to be connected.”
“But who would do that?”
I eyed her. “Other than the killer?”
Her eyes widened. “You think the killer is here? One of the group? Surely not.”
I shrugged, holding back a wince as pain lanced through my shoulder. Maybe a trip to the doctor was in order after all. “Maybe. It’s possible. I still haven’t ruled out Piper. And then there’s Lucas...”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You know very well that Lucas didn’t murder Natasha. And he would never push you down the stairs. Don’t be silly.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I let it go for the moment. “There are other options.”
“Lu and Maggie?” She actually giggled. “Those two lovelies? I don’t think so. Can you really see either of them as a knife-wielding maniac?”
I had to admit I couldn’t, but stranger things have happened. “There’s another option.”
“What?”
“The killer has a sidekick. Somebody helping them. Somebody who didn’t commit the murder, but who is involved in the cover-up. Maybe that person is here.”
“You’re talking about Piper, aren’t you?”
“Could be. Or could be any of the others.” I mulled it over. “Or it could be someone outside the group. Someone lurking around. They could have followed us here. Seized an opportunity.”
Cheryl glanced around as if the evil person was lurking in the planters or behind the velvet curtains. “Like who?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It could be anybody. Likely someone from the Fairwinds, though. I mean, the killer has to be there. Who else would want to kill Natasha? And his, or her, sidekick is probably staying there, too.”
“But what if the sidekick is staying somewhere else? You know, to throw us off the scent?”
Cheryl made a good point. And my suspect list just got a whole lot longer and a whole lot more complicated.
As the tour came to an end, George led us down the back stairs—not exactly comfortable going in my condition—and through the service hallways to the front lobby. All the while, he regaled us with tales of guests who’d had run-ins with ghosts at the hotel, all of whom had escaped their ordeals unscathed.
As we entered the lobby, I stopped short at the sight of a figure near the front desk. Dread filled me. I knew that figure.
“Drat,” I hissed, eyeing the lobby for a place to hide.
; “What is it?” Cheryl asked.
“Detective Hottie. Three o’clock.”
Cheryl glanced toward the check-in desk and frowned. “What’s Costa doing here?”
“Good question.” I debated whether or not to storm up to him and demand answers. Was he stalking me? Did he have a lead?
Of course, there could have been a murder at the hotel, and he’d been called to investigate. It was his job, after all. Though I was certain we’d have noticed if there was a dead body lying around. Besides mine, I mean. Dodged that proverbial bullet.
But then he turned toward me, and all hope of new homicides was gone. Detective Costa was here for me.
He strode across the marble floor, long legs eating up the distance in no time. Too bad he considered me a suspect, because I’d be all over that in a hot minute. Okay, probably not. But I’d flirt a lot. As it was, I needed to play it cool. No sense riling him up. I was in hot enough water already, though I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I’d done this time.
“Well, well, Ms. Roberts. You do like to be right in the middle of trouble, don’t you?” Detective Costa said, stopping in front of me. The entire tour group hovered around, ears perked. Great. An audience. Just what I needed.
“Detective Costa. Lovely to see you,” I said in my best fake posh accent. “Whatever do you mean?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t play the innocent, Ms. Roberts. This is serious business.”
“Er, what is?” I was genuinely confused.
“I hear someone tried to push you down the stairs today.”
“Oh, that.” I waved my hand airily, bravely holding back a flinch as another stab of pain tore through my arm. Yep. I was going to need a doctor. “It was no big thing. I’m fine.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “This time.”
I eyed him, unsure what he meant. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He stepped right up in my personal space. I had to struggle against the impulse to take a step back. I wasn’t about to let the man bully me.