by Valia Lind
That's when it hits me. The money problems, all the high tensions between the staff, Arthur's expensive taste. It all makes sense if I consider that maybe Arthur was stealing from the resort. Detective Ames mentioned small money deposits regularly. This was probably to keep the bank from raising any questions. But what if—
"Mind sharing with the class?" Birdie's voice penetrates my thoughts, and I glance down at her watching me.
"I'm just trying to put the pieces together. Everything I've found out points to Arthur stealing money. What if he was stealing from the resort? And his other jobs? It would explain the frequent cash deposits. He would just break them up. But if he was stealing from all his contracts, that would explain the weird behavior and the expensive taste."
"The dead guy was stealing?"
I guess she didn't hear about that in her eavesdropping, which makes me feel way too smug. I'm literally competing with a cat. Giving myself a mental shake, I focus.
"He was. And I think the high tensions just put Lizette and Priscilla back to the top of my suspect list. I wish they would talk to me. Priscilla has completely sidestepped me every time I've tried to approach her."
"You can try cornering them upstairs. They both have rooms up there."
“What? Do you know their numbers?”
“1563 and 1501. Lizette is the one at the end of the hallway.”
Well, this is actually helpful. Birdie goes back to grooming herself while a plan starts forming in my mind. I need to get ahead of this thing. I need to be more proactive. And I think I know just where to start.
17
That's it. I'm putting my foot down. I need to get this show on the road and solve this case before the storm lets up and all the suspects scatter. But I can't do this alone. I check my phone and see that it's barely four in the morning. I'm sure people will be waking up soon, so I need to make myself rest. For at least a few hours.
Birdie leaves without a backward look as I head back to the main area.
Reaching the cot, I lay down, closing my eyes immediately. My mind continues to race over all the things I must do, but I force myself to do some meditation exercises, focus on my breathing, and relax.
After a few moments, exhaustion catches up to me and I'm thrown into dreamland. I land in the same weird forest room I've been to before, but there is no sign of Arthur. I call out to him a few times, but all I see is fog. A lot of it.
There’s much more than the last time I was here. I want to look around more, but then someone is calling my name, and the room begins to fade.
When I open my eyes, I find Dean looking down at me.
"What's going on?" I ask, sitting up slowly. Dean pulls back, his eyes still on me as I push my hair out of my face.
"We're heading over to breakfast," Penny announces. I look over to see her standing next to Finn. "We didn't want you to miss out."
"What time is it?"
"After eight."
Wow, I guess I did sleep. And hard. That dream felt like a minute max, and yet, it's been nearly four hours. I do feel much more rested than before though. So success.
"Thanks," I say, getting off the cot and straightening my clothes. I also discreetly look around to see if Birdie is anywhere to be seen. She's not. Then again, it's not like I expected to see her. She's the best at staying under the radar.
We make our way to the dining room, passing a few lines in the hall.
"The storm is really bad outside," Dean says from beside me. "They've provided towels and toothpaste for people to clean up, but the bathrooms aren't big enough to accommodate everyone at once."
I nod, giving him a tentative smile. Things have been a little weird between us. Well, mostly because I've been avoiding him. But sue me. I'm in run-from-my-problems mode. I can only handle so much at a time.
The dining room is bustling with activity, and we find a table in the corner with four seats still available. Finn and Dean head off to the line immediately, saying they'll bring us back food. The moment they step away, I pull Penny close, lowering my voice.
"I need your help. And theirs."
"Oh, you woke up with a mission?" My friend's eyes are shining, and I smile.
"Absolutely."
A few people walk by, so I pause before continuing.
"I have three solid suspects," I say. Even though I don't want to rope Walter into that group, I know I have to. "And none of them will talk to me."
Of that, I am sure. The tensions are too high, and everyone is on edge.
"So what's the plan?"
"Since I can't talk to them, I was thinking my best next move would be to look through their stuff."
"What?"
"Shh, Penny." I tug Penny back down, since the outburst made her sit up straighter.
"I mean I know we just did this to Arthur, but it's not like he could've walked in on us, and you know, murdered us!"
"Yes, I know. That is why I'll need everyone's help. You and I will go through the rooms, and the guys will stand watch. We'll have backup. I promised Auntie Grace I'd stop putting myself in dangerous situations. So this is half true. I'll at least have someone watching my back."
Penny listens carefully before slowly nodding.
"Okay, that makes sense. Do we know where?"
"Yes, Birdie was very helpful in that regard."
I still haven't seen the cat, but as long as she's in the building, she'll be safe. From the storm at least.
The guys come back, placing the plates of food in front of us. As Dean takes his seat beside me, he's looking at me curiously.
"What?"
"Just wondering what shenanigans you're about to get into." He shrugs before taking a bite of his bagel.
"First, did you just use shenanigans in a sentence?" I place my hand over my heart in mock outrage. "Second, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." He smirks. "I can see the gleam in your eyes."
I—have absolutely no idea what to say to that because he can tell from the look in my eyes? He keeps doing that to me, showing me that he knows me. He’s been paying attention.
Hold on, heart. You've got to stay calm. And in my chest.
"Are you planning something?" Finn asks, leaning forward. I study my friends’ faces before letting my lips curl up in a smile.
"I knew it." Dean's words are but a whisper, but the grin he gives me can probably be seen as well as heard from space. I can't seem to look away. I think I'd stare at him for forever, until a slight nudge under the table jerks me back to attention.
I glance over at Penny, who gives me a knowing look before proceeding to eat her bagel.
"I have some—shenanigans planned," I finally say, keeping my voice low. "And I'm going to need your help."
After we've eaten, and go over the plan of attack, it's time to get a move on. The backup generators have finally come on. People seem to be a little calmer now, even though we're all still stuck inside.
"Miss Duke." Detective Ames stops us when we're exiting the dining room. I glance at my friends, and they keep going, giving the detective and me some privacy.
"Good morning, detective," I say, keeping my customer service smile in place. He's wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but he looks showered. I envy him for a moment. It would've been nice to clean up after going out into the storm. It'll take me days—and some magical powers—to untangle the mess that is my hair.
"How did you sleep?" Detective Ames asks. I guess we're doing the polite thing now.
"Good. You?"
"Interestingly enough, not well. It seems I had an intruder in my room yesterday, so I had to be on high alert."
"Oh?"
Detective Ames gives me a look as if to say, "really Cassie?" But it's not unkind. He doesn't even seem annoyed.
"Mind sharing what you've discovered?" he says instead.
"I'm not sure what you mean," I reply.
"Please, Miss Duke. Give me some benefit of the doubt. I do this for a li
ving."
The fact that he did notice someone being in his room really does prove he's good at it. What would be nicer is if he shared the information he knows, but I know that's not happening. If there was a magic spell for this kind of a thing, it would've been on top of my to-learn list. But magic doesn't work like that. I still have to do the hard part myself.
The hard part being the actual conversation and back and forth question and answer that I have to do. I basically have to "people." Suppose I'm about to test that skill.
"Have you been able to find anything out about the cause of death?"
Detective Ames studies me for a moment before he motions for me to move out of the direct hallway and to the side.
"I'm not supposed to be telling you this," he prefaces. I don't dare make a sound lest he stop. "But the victim has a gash on the head that was made with something sharp and ragged. And then he bled to death."
"But not from the head wound."
"No."
"Any idea what caused that?"
"Only the marks we found on the neck. Whoever this killer is, he or she knows exactly what artery to pierce in order to inflict the fastest amount of damage."
"But that could be anyone, couldn’t it?" I say, my head spinning with possibilities. "All they need is a working internet connection and they can look it up."
"True. But the way the medical examiner calls it is that it was too practiced of a move to be spontaneous."
"So whoever killed Arthur went into this knowing exactly what to do. Which one of the suspects has a medical background?"
"No one so far. We're still checking, but the storm is making it difficult to get anything done."
This is why my plan of digging through the suspect's rooms is looking better and better by the second. I could honestly see all three of them having some kind of medical knowledge. Both Lizette and Priscilla have worked with the public long enough to know basic first aid. And I'm sure Walter had to learn when he was traveling. Maybe I can find something that gives me something more definite.
A girl can hope, after all.
"Whatever it is you're thinking, you have to be careful," Detective Ames comments, as if he can see the thoughts racing through my mind.
"Careful and legal, you mean?"
"If you're thinking of entering any more locked rooms—"
"Detective, I think it's best that we keep our investigation methods to ourselves. In case it ever comes up, for any occasion." I grin at him as he sighs. It's the most parental sound I have ever heard, and it kind of makes me want to grin even bigger. I'm getting to him, but in a good way.
"Just be careful," he says, right as someone calls out his name. I turn to see Priscilla waiting by the doors, which only solidifies my plan.
"Always am," I say, before I leave him to his official business and head toward where my friends are waiting.
18
It doesn't take long before the guys are in their designated spots and Penny and I are making our way upstairs through the back kitchen. In my pocket is Dean's phone. Apparently, he and Finn have an app that allows the phones to turn into walkie talkies. The service seems to be spotty, so we can't just keep each other on the line. We tried. But the app is working, so we're going with that.
"Where do we start?" Penny asks once we're through the waiting area and back in the hallway. A few people head down the main staircase, a family that appears to be staying up here in one of the rooms. I turn us in the opposite direction.
"I'm thinking—Priscilla. She's first." And we saw her downstairs before we came up here. She should be occupied for a little bit.
We reach the door number Birdie indicated to me last night, and I try the door handle. Of course it's locked. I give myself to the intention, pulling up my magic, and then the lock clicks.
"I'm never getting over how cool that is," Penny whispers beside me. I smile as I push the door open and we step inside. This is mostly why I told Dean no when he said he'd come with me. I can’t explain to him how I keep getting into these rooms, and there's no way he'd believe I'm lucky to keep finding all of them unlocked.
I find the light switch and flick it on. This room looks way more lived in than Arthur's did. I'm surprised any of the staff members stay in the main house, but maybe that's just the easiest. Sure helps me out with the investigating when I don’t have to venture back into the storm.
"What am I looking for?" Penny asks. I experience a sort of déjà vu after our excursion last night.
"Anything that ties Priscilla to the money situation or to a medical background. I'll explain later," I hurry to add when Penny gives me a confused look about that last part.
She takes one side of the room, I take the other, and we start our search. Is it weird that we have a system for this now? It feels a little weird. But I also know it's necessary.
"Hey, look at this," I say, pulling out an album from the bottom of the dresser. Flipping through it, I see that it goes back quite a few years. Priscilla looks much younger in some of these.
"Wow, she does know how to smile," Penny says from beside me as I turn the page to a group shot of her and five other people all scrunched inside the frame. She's front and center, grinning like I've never seen her grin before. They're all wearing matching t-shirts with a familiar looking symbol on them, but I can't really place it.
"Penny, look!"
I point at the man in the back left corner, and it's none other than Arthur. Even without the beard, I'm sure of it. There's no date on the picture, so I flip a few more and find one that has Priscilla looking similar, from nine years ago.
"Priscilla and Arthur knew each other before he came to work here," I say, glancing up at Penny.
"So why did she appear so cold before when you tried talking to her?"
"Maybe that's how she deals with grief?" I say. Who am I to judge how someone handles something like that? Everyone grieves differently. But what I don't get is why she lied.
"Penny, she told Detective Ames she barely knew Arthur. I'm sure of it."
"Why would she do that?"
The only reason I can come up with is if she was hiding their relationship from everyone, which needs a reason. And since there's been a murder, that reason isn't an innocent one.
"Maybe they were scheming and stealing money from the resort together," I say out loud, mulling it over. "It's possible that's how Arthur had access to the books. Priscilla is in charge of all that. Especially—"
"Especially what?"
"Especially their marketing budget! She's in charge of all their promotions. I mean, that woman, Helen, helps, but she hasn’t even been on campus lately as far as I can tell. What if that's where the money was being taken out of? No one would know how much an ad or a website placement would cost but her right? She could be taking extra off the top."
"And that would in turn create issues elsewhere."
“Priscilla was also brought here by Lizette, so they could all be in on it.”
“And Lizette is in a perfect position to cover for all of them.”
Penny and I look at each other in shock. We really are getting all conspiracy minded up in here.
"Okay, did you find anything else?"
"No, not really. She's very clean and organized."
"She would be the type of a person to clean up a crime scene," I muse, replacing the album where I found it. "We should check out Lizette's room next. We don't have much time."
Grabbing Dean's phone, I push the talk button.
"How's our favorite manager doing?" I ask. There's a crack of static and then Dean's deep voice comes over the line.
"She’s schmoozing the locals," he says.
"Perfect." I glance up at Penny. "Let's go."
Lizette's room is at the end of the hallway, tucked away in the corner. Once we step inside, I'm surprised by how different it looks from the others. While Priscilla's room looked like a typical resort setup, much like the one Detective Ames is staying at, Lizette's room is e
ntirely different.
"Wow, it's like stepping inside of a different house all together," Penny comments. I nod.
The ceilings in this room are higher, decorated by a crown molding that is probably at least a hundred years old. The whole room is painted in a dark blue and gold, making this room darker than the others as well. There are paintings in gold frames on the walls and plush furniture with velvet covers. Everything looks classic and pristine.
"I think this is what the resort might've looked like before," I say, walking slowly through the room. It's kind of how the Crooked Windows Inn looked a few decades ago, and a bit of what I want to bring back to my home.
"Look at these," Penny calls. I turn to see her opening a trunk at the foot of the bed. All kinds of colorful materials sat inside. I pull out a decorative throw with beautiful stitch work all over it. The designs look vaguely familiar, but I can't place them.
"Lizette is quite the seamstress," I say, looking through the rest of the material. I leave Penny there as I make my way to the dresser, pulling out the drawers carefully to look inside. Maybe I should feel like I'm violating their privacy, and I am, but also, if one of these women is involved, the other will just have to forgive me.
Penny and I move in silence, making sure to place things exactly like we found them. It's not until I reach the dresser on the opposite side of the room that I find something useful. There are a few lanyards in the top drawer, along with passes and pieces of movie tickets. I sift through them all before something stops me. The same design I saw on the stitching is on one of the lanyards. Sigma Theta Charter. And then right under the big letters, some small print. Honor Society of Nursing.
Twisting around, I walk back to the trunk, pulling it back open. The stitching on the throw is the design for the nurses logo, two snakes twisting around a staff with angel wings. The caduceus. It’s the staff from Greek mythology carried by Hermes, the messenger of gods. It’s a universal insignia for the public health organization.