Amy King Cozy Mysteries- The Complete Series

by N. C. Lewis

  "Which room?" Danielle asked as she glanced around the spacious lobby with its soaring ceilings, polished tile floors, and lavish pillars of marble.

  Amy checked her cell phone. "Nick sent the details… here it is," she said, peering at the screen, scrolling through to a message from Nick. "Suite 2502. That's in the executive wing, top floor."

  "Neat!" exclaimed Danielle. "Those rooms don't come cheap. I guess Battles Equity Partners is paying for her."

  "Guess so," replied Amy, strolling past the general reception desk toward the executive wing. "There is a separate check-in area for the executive suites."

  The reception desk clerk had a pleasing smile, a name tag that said Georgina Lovesey, and eyes that appeared to calculate the net worth of the clothing Amy and Danielle wore. She shook her head slightly as if satisfying herself that they were in the wrong part of the hotel. "How may I best serve you today?" The voice barely disguised her condescending thoughts.

  "We are here to meet with Amelia Dubois, room 2502," said Danielle, taking the measure of the receptionist and disliking what she observed.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry, there are no rooms in this part of the hotel, only executive suites. Perhaps..." She pointed and shuffled in her seat. "You'd like to try our main reception area."

  Danielle glanced at Amy and corrected herself. "Executive suite 2502."

  The receptionist acted as if she hadn't heard and turned away.

  Amy stepped forward, placed her hands on the reception desk. "Can you let Amelia Dubois know we are here to visit with her?"

  The receptionist turned back. "Do you have an appointment?"

  "Not exactly."

  The receptionist typed something into a computer, wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I'm sorry, but she's left a note asking not to be disturbed under any circumstances." The receptionist's eyes glittered with satisfaction. "But if you leave your name and cell phone number, I'll leave a note."

  Amy would not give up. "Can you call her room and let her know we would like to talk to her about a matter of some importance?"

  A look of defiance flashed in the receptionist's eyes, and she stood up. "Patrons of our executive suites pay premium rates for privacy and exclusivity. I'm sorry, what you're asking for is against corporate policy."

  A tall, lean man pushing sixty, wearing an expensive, dark blue, three-piece suit and steel-rimmed glasses, strode authoritatively into the lobby. He pushed a hand through his crisp-gray hair as he glanced around. "Amy!" he cried hurrying over to the reception desk. "What brings you here, today?"

  "Oh, Patrick, it's so good to see you," said Amy with a broad smile.

  Patrick opened his arms and gave her a hug. "How is Nick doing? I was so sorry to hear about his health issues. Did you get the flowers?"

  "Oh, thank you," Amy said. "The flowers were very thoughtful. Nick is doing well, back at work."

  Patrick smiled. "Good." Then he nodded at Danielle. "I don't believe we've met before, have we?"

  "This is Danielle Sánchez, a good friend, and business partner. Her husband plays in the Tarry Town Revival Band."

  Patrick greeted Danielle and lightly kissed the back of her hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Sánchez. I'm one of the Tarry Town Revival Band's biggest fans. I've already got my tickets to see them play live at the Erwin Center in September."

  "If you like, I'll get the band members to sign a vinyl record for you," Danielle said with a smile.

  His eyes sparkled. "Would you? That's so generous."

  Patrick turned to the receptionist, who had shrunk back several steps, her mouth open wide. Then he turned back to Amy and Danielle. "I hope Georgina is treating you well?"

  "Oh, yes," Amy said staring hard at the receptionist. "Georgina was just about to give us access to the executive suites. We have a meeting with a one of your guests."

  Chapter 33

  The elevator opened to the twenty-fifth floor. Danielle glanced at the African face masks that lined the walls of the plushly decorated hallway.

  "This way," said Amy, hurrying ahead. "I'm doubtful we'll get much out of this, but at least I'll get a chance to meet Noel's old boss. Noel called her the witch of London Bridge, so brace yourself for a difficult meeting."

  "Wonderful!" exclaimed Danielle, stopping to look at a particularly fearsome face mask on the wall. "Who buys this stuff?"

  Amy pressed the bell on the solid oak door of suite 2502. They heard the faint chime of the bell followed by footsteps. The door opened a crack. "Yes?" asked a female voice with a distinctly polished British accent.

  "My name is Amy King, and this is Danielle Sánchez. We staged the birthday party for Barry Battles at Battles Equity Partners headquarters."

  "What do you want? If you're looking for payment, you must go to the office on Congress Avenue, the headquarters." Then she asked, "How did you get in here?"

  Amy ignored the question. "We would like to speak with you about Barry Battles. We've just spoken with his wife, Judy." Amy hoped this would be enough. She didn't want to reveal she was Noel's mother-in-law or that she was gathering information for the police.

  It worked. The door opened wide.

  Amelia Dubois stood in the doorway with her hands by her side. She wore a cream blouse matched against a dark blue business jacket with matching skirt. Her face was softer than Amy imagined, lips curved into a friendly smile, eyes twinkling with something Amy didn't understand.

  She stepped aside, and they walked inside.

  Amy took in the layout and design of the room, a large living space with panoramic views over the city. The late afternoon view through the floor-to-ceiling windows was impossibly beautiful. There were leather couches and wall paintings, a large fifty-inch flat-screen television set inside an oak wood cabinet. The television screen tuned into the local news channel. The volume was turned down low and flickered like Christmas lights. A weather woman gesticulated at a computer-generated image. Even without words, it was clear—hot and sunny all week.

  Amy made mental notes of the layout for her staging business. Then she realized there had to be a bedroom and bathroom and wanted to see those too. Danielle placed her tote on a coffee table next to the hotel phone and looked through the windows. "Amazing."

  "Indeed, it is," said Amelia. "Now, what is it I can help you with?"

  "Tell us about Barry Battles," Amy said.

  The television flickered to a news article about the Band of The Royal Regiment of Scotland's arrival in Austin. The military band was performing an outdoor concert by the lake, free admission. An image of pipes and drummers flashed across the screen.

  Amelia turned to watch. When the commercials came on she turned to Amy and smiled, exposing faint crow's-feet around her eyes, which were pointing upward toward the heavens. "Barry was a wonderful man, a dear friend, and a great businessperson. He will be sorely missed and—"

  She stopped abruptly and tilted her head slightly to one side as if she was listening to something. Amy heard it too. It sounded like voices shouted at distance across a large cavern.

  "Radio," Amelia said absentmindedly. "Why do I always leave it on?"

  The sound of a light aircraft rumbling low across the sky caught everyone's attention.

  "Tourist flights over the city, getting popular," commented Danielle. "Stan and I will try it soon."

  "Oh, me too," exclaimed Amelia with delight. "That sounds like such fun."

  Amy looked at the friendly, smiling woman. Is this the witch of London Bridge?

  Amelia lightly folded her arms across her chest. "Unfortunately, I haven't got very long. But I'll answer any questions as best I can." She pointed to a suitcase next to a leather recliner. "I'm on the red-eye tonight. How about we finish our conversation in the executive dining area? They have freshly brewed Blue Mountain Jamaican coffee, and I could do with a drink."

  They followed her out of the apartment and along a hallway to the executive dining area. Seated around a large table, Amelia told them about her plans. "I've
had about enough of the investment industry. When I get home I'm going to resign and join a convent, so I can contemplate the meaning of life."

  Chapter 34

  It was when they were in the bright, late afternoon sunshine walking along the street back to Amy's car that Danielle let out a startled gasp. "My handbag; my Brighton Luciana tote! Where is it?"

  They hurried back to the executive lobby. Georgina Lovesey, the receptionist, glared at them through stone-cold eyes but pressed the button opening the door to the executive suites.

  "I left the tote in the executive dining area," Danielle said as they rode the elevator.

  There was no one in the dining area. The room was exactly as they left it, including the empty coffee cup Amelia had left on the table. Danielle glanced around the room, and together they looked under tables and moved chairs, but Danielle's handbag wasn't there.

  "Oh," said Danielle remembering. "It must be in Amelia's apartment! On the coffee table. How did I forget that?"

  They walked briskly back to suite 2502. Danielle knocked on the door and when there was no immediate answer reached impulsively for the door handle. Before Amy could protest the door swung inward, open.

  The television still on, tuned to the local news channel, flickered silently in the wooden cabinet.

  "Amelia must be in the bedroom or bathroom," Daniel said, stepping fully into the room. She paused for a moment, glancing toward the windows at the blazing sun low in the afternoon sky. "Amy girl, look at how beautiful the city appears in the late afternoon sunlight."

  Amy, who was hovering outside the door in the hallway, stepped inside the room. "Goodness, that's amazing!"

  For several moments they stood staring out of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, transfixed by the bright oranges and reds that shimmered across the city landscape. To Amy's keen eye the view looked like one of those digitally enhanced photographs of exotic landscapes she could only dream of visiting.

  Amy heard a noise behind her and turned to see the hotel phone on the coffee table buzzing quietly, the red LED light flashing like the turn signal on a car.

  "Danielle there's your handbag, on the coffee table. I remember you putting it there." Amy strolled over, picked it up, slinging the expensive tote over her shoulder. "How does it look?"

  "Very me," Danielle laughed.

  The phone continued to buzz.

  There was a muffled shout.

  "What's that?" Danielle said, stopping in her tracks.

  "Don't know—voices," Amy replied, listening intently. "The radio...?"

  "Help!" cried a voice from behind the door Amy thought led to the bedroom.

  "Shut up! Shut up, or I'll kill you here!" responded a female voice—Amelia.

  The bedroom door flew open as Amy recognized the distressed voice. It was Noel, her son-in-law.

  Amelia stepped into the living room with a small pistol in her steady hand. "Such a shame, ladies," she said quietly. "I had hoped Noel Laird would be the last person to die. Seems I was wrong about that."

  Chapter 35

  "Put down that gun," Amy said in a firm voice although her heart was rattling around her chest like a stray ping-pong ball. Nick had often explained that an authoritative voice can defuse the deadliest of situations. "Let's talk about this."

  "Yes, yes, let's talk about it," Amelia replied, her voice softening somewhat.

  It's working, Amy thought. Her hopes rose, and her heartbeat quickened. She moistened her lips considering what to say next. Then Amelia repeated herself like a scratched vinyl record. "Let's talk about it; let's talk about it; let's talk about it."

  Amy stepped back, suddenly realizing the woman was unhinged—mad.

  "Close that door," Amelia barked at Danielle. "Then we can really talk about it."

  Danielle pushed shut the heavy oak door that led to outside and freedom. It closed with a decisive thud.

  Amelia half closed her eyes as if in deep thought and put her left hand against her cheek. Suddenly, her eyes jerked wide open. "Let's talk about how I was next in line to be deputy at Battles Equity Partners, shall we? Barry promised that position to me. He reneged at the last moment, giving it to Abay. I had to kill Barry."

  "Why?" asked Amy in a soft voice.

  Amelia gestured toward a leather notebook sitting on top of her suitcase. "It wasn't written in the book."

  "Sorry?"

  "That book." Again, she gestured toward the leather-bound journal. "It contains my life goals. I began keeping a goals book when I was ten. Back then all I wanted was to learn how to play the bagpipes. I achieved that goal in three years, winning a Highlands and Islands gold medal. I've hit every major goal in my journal except one, deputy at Battles Equity Partners. Barry Battles tried to steal my dream. I couldn't let that happen."

  "But what about Abay?"

  "I didn't want to kill him, but he made Noel the deputy. Dream stealer! It wasn't part of the plan, but he had to go. Can't you see?" This time her lip quivered, nostrils flared, and she shook with anger. "I always reach my goals, no matter what the cost. This way, please," Amelia ordered in a cold, hard voice, indicating with the gun that Amy and Danielle should enter the bedroom.

  Amy held her breath as she stepped through the doorway. Noel lay atop the bed, his arms and legs bound, black masking tape tight over his mouth. He whimpered in defeat as Danielle edged toward the bed.

  Amy stopped in front of the bed, glancing at the pistol, weighing the odds. At the moment they didn't look good. A sour sensation filled her stomach. "What's your plan? What's written in your journal?"

  "Not this. It isn't in the book. It's not part of the plan, shouldn't be happening." Amelia was screaming. The wicked witch of London Bridge was back.

  Amy edged forward. "Not in the book! Not in the plan! What are you going to do?"

  Amelia exploded, cursing uncontrollably at Barry Battles, Abay, and Noel.

  Amy seized the opportunity. She hurled Danielle's tote as Amelia continued her tirade.

  It missed.

  Amelia's eyes narrowed. They'd lost their shine and were as cold as stones. "For that," she hissed, raising her pistol and pointing it at Amy, "you will die first."

  "Police! Drop your weapon!"

  The muffled shot caught Amy unaware. Her legs buckled, and she stumbled backward collapsing to the floor, rolling sideways, stopping at the foot of the bed.

  Then Nick stepped through the doorway with his gun, still smoking, in his hand. Amelia wobbled, her left hand clutching her side where Nick's bullet had entered. But her right hand still gripped tight on her pistol. She pulled the trigger, aiming directly at Amy as she fell forward.

  The bullet went into the wall as Amelia crumpled to the floor. Nick kicked the pistol out of her hand as he rushed to sweep Amy into his arms. Officer Chambers secured the pistol, cuffed Amelia, and radioed for support. I'll be up all night writing this one up he thought discontentedly.

  Chapter 36

  A few days later…

  Nick and Amy sat at the kitchen table in their home on Gaston Avenue, staring through the window onto the garden deck where Ruby and Noel sat holding hands in the early morning light.

  Amy laughed. "Noel has made a speedy recovery."

  Nick joined in the laughter. "Only a few bruises; they'll soon heal." He picked up a mug and sipped. "It's their relationship that will take a little time."

  Amy gazed through the window as Noel snaked an arm around Ruby's shoulder. "Looks like Noel is working on that right now."

  Nick put down his mug and followed his wife's gaze. "I guess you're right." He laughed.

  Amy stood up, walked to the stove and flipped the pancakes sizzling in the pan. "At least he has moved out of that flea-pit motel. I love having Noel and Ruby at our house."

  Nick's eyes twinkled. "I told you he wouldn't stay at the Five Star Motel for long; no one does."

  The doorbell rang.

  "That must be Danielle," Amy said, turning off the stove. "For once, she's
early."

  "Nicky baby, how're you doing?" Danielle asked, plunking herself in a seat next to Nick at the kitchen table. "I'm starving. I hope breakfast is ready?"

  "Coming up," Amy replied, pouring coffee into a mug and handing it to Danielle. "Bacon, eggs, beans, and homemade pancakes with maple syrup and blackberries."

  Danielle gestured with her eyes toward the window. "The hungry lovers coming to join us?"

  "Of course," Amy replied walking to the window and tapping.

  After Nick gave a prayer of thanks, they dug in, enjoying the food as well as each other's company.

  "How are you doing, Mom?" Ruby asked, chasing a piece of bacon around her plate.

  "A few bruises, but I'll survive," answered Amy with a gentle smile.

  Danielle picked up a fork and jabbed it in the air. "Your mother is very brave. While I stood trembling, Amy attacked Amelia with my Brighton Luciana tote. Fortunately, she missed, that's an expensive bag."

  Everyone laughed.

  "When I heard the shot, I thought Amelia had fired her pistol," added Danielle with emotion.

  "So did I," Amy confessed. "Thought I would be seeing angels!"

  Nick leaned back in his chair. "Guess I fired first. It was only a flesh wound, Amelia will pull through. She'll undertake a psychological evaluation. Whatever the outcome of that, the woman will be behind bars for a long time. Maybe the prosecutor and defender will do a deal if she confesses. If not, cold-blooded murder won't go down well with an Austin jury."

  "That woman had me fooled," added Noel. "I'll admit I was fearful of her foul temper when she asked me to dress as a clown, and ordinarily I would have said no. But when she said it was for Barry Battles' birthday party and would aid my chances of promotion, I fell for the bait. She even organized things so I would show up late at the birthday celebration. I guess that way she hoped to deflect everyone's attention to the seventh clown—me!"

  "Amelia was even more devious than that," Nick added with a scowl. "I had a photocopy of the invoice for the clowns. It said the order was for six clowns, therefore, logically, I focused on the seventh clown. But I noticed a smudge on this photocopy by the number. I tracked down the original document. The original order was for five clowns. Someone had crossed out five and replaced it with six which appeared as a smudge on the photocopy."