by Diane Capri
“The word around the hotel is that you can help people out.”
“Yeah, with small legal matters.”
“That’s not all, from what I’ve heard.” He scrubbed at his chin, where dark whiskers were poking through. “Colleen did not kill my aunt. She’s a lot of things, but a murderer is not one of them.”
I wasn’t persuaded. “She could’ve killed Nicole with that skillet today.”
He sighed. “She’s impulsive and reckless. But she’s not a killer.”
“She also has a temper. And lacks self-control,” I added.
He screwed up his lips, tilted his head. “Okay. But I swear she didn’t kill Aunt Ida. She didn’t.”
“How do you know for sure? She was at the house on the day your great-aunt died.”
“I know—because I asked her to go. I was parked down the street waiting for her. She was in and out in ten minutes tops.”
The neighbors, Blue and Sunglasses, never mentioned seeing Peter. But if he had parked down the street like he said, they wouldn’t have. “Why was she at the house that day?”
He rubbed his face again, getting irritated. I had a sudden urge to slam the door shut in his face. What if his temper was as volatile as his wife’s? Was I in danger?
I said, “Look, I think you should talk to a lawyer…”
“I thought you were one.”
“I can’t practice law here. Any advice I might give you wouldn’t be reliable.”
“Colleen went there to get something for me, okay?”
“What?”
“A couple of silver picture frames.”
I frowned. The conversation I had with JC and Reggie replayed in my mind. They’d called Peter “Poor Peter” because he was always broke. He was in a lot of debt, and his great-aunt was as miserly as they come.
Understanding dawned. “You’re pawning off her stuff. Because you need the money.”
He nodded sheepishly. At least he suffered some guilt. “Do you know what it’s like taking care of someone like that? So cheap, so selfish. She had oodles of money, and she knew Colleen and I were in a bad way. But not once did she ever offer to help us out. Not once.”
His sense of entitlement was not surprising. Mrs. Walker might have helped him out from time to time. But she wasn’t legally required to do so. And he had to know that. “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles, but I’m not sure what you think I can do.”
“Talk to the sheriff. The word is he listens to you.”
I nearly laughed. “Not sure where you heard that, but it’s so not true.”
The muscles along his jawline clenched. “We have nothing to gain from Aunt Ida’s death. She was worth more to us alive than dead. There was always the chance that she’d help us out. Now, she never will. Why would we kill her?”
I was going to bring up his aunt’s rumored wealth and the house. Being her next of kin, he’d normally inherit that. But maybe I was missing something. Maybe there was a will with alternative bequests.
Before I could ask, my cell phone buzzed from its perch on the foyer table. “Excuse me for a minute.” I snagged the phone and answered.
“Andi? It’s Shannon from Blossom. I have those dresses you wanted.”
“Right. Excellent. Can you have them delivered to the hotel?”
“I sure can.”
I turned back to the door to tell Peter I’d be just another minute, but he was gone. I poked my head out the door but didn’t see him anywhere. Warily, I closed the door and locked it.
“Thanks, Shannon. The bride will be ecstatic.”
After hanging up with her, I took out the piece of paper with the bride-to-be’s number on it and called her. She answered right away.
“Hi, Melanie. It’s Andi Steele, concierge for the Park Hotel. We talked about your, uh, wedding plans.”
“Hey, Andi.” Both words were slightly drawn out, like “Heyyy AAndiee,” which gave me a slight suspicion that she’d been drinking.
“I got your dresses.”
“Yay!” There was some cheering in the background. She must’ve been celebrating with her bridesmaids already.
“When the dresses arrive at the hotel, I’ll have them delivered to your room.”
“Can you bring them yourself?”
“You want me to bring them?”
“Yes, then you can help us celebrate. Woo-hoo!” There were several parroted “woo-hoos” in the background.
I sighed. This was not going to end well. “Yes, of course. I’ll deliver them myself.”
“Thanks, Andi.” She disconnected.
I was still unsure about this whole wedding with Melanie and Karl. It was clearly a mistake, but it wasn’t up to me to point that out. My job was to make sure everything was planned precisely the way the guest requested. It was not my place to make judgments. They weren’t planning anything illegal or immoral, so basically I should provide the services Melanie asked for and keep my opinions to myself.
It was just that I knew Karl. And I knew without a shadow of a doubt, when he hit on Melanie at the bar last night, he had no plans then, or ever, to marry her tonight. I needed to find him to make sure he did the decent thing and confessed the truth. Soon.
Until he did, though, I had to make sure I didn’t drop the ball. I didn’t want to give Samuel more ammunition to fire me.
After I did a quick freshen-up in my suite, I headed to the restaurant to make sure Justin had the sandwiches and pastries ready for the wedding reception. It would also give me a chance to check up on Nicole, although I didn’t imagine she’d be back in her office after what had happened earlier. She was probably safely tucked away at home with her family around her.
As I walked through the restaurant toward the kitchen, I thought about Peter’s visit. I should tell the sheriff about it, for sure. I couldn’t keep information like that to myself. If Colleen was innocent of murdering her husband’s great-aunt, I certainly didn’t want her to go through an unnecessary rigorous investigation. She was already charged with assault. She didn’t need a murder charge on her head as well.
I caught up with Chef Justin just as he was leaving.
“Everything ready for the Lawson wedding?”
He nodded. “Yup, everything’s prepared and chilling in the cold room. It’s all labeled.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“I heard what happened earlier. Are you all right?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I don’t think she was aiming at me.”
“But she could’ve hit you, from what I heard. You saved Nicole.”
I shrugged. “Anyone would’ve reacted the same.”
He gave me a look. “I don’t know about that. I think a lot of people would’ve just tried to save their own ass.” He patted me on the shoulder, then left the restaurant for the evening.
I checked on the food for the wedding—it was indeed labeled so well that anyone could understand it—then went back to the lobby. The dresses had arrived.
Holly waited to handle alterations. I ushered her into the concierge closet, which was a huge room where porters could leave luggage and other deliveries for guests.
Inside, on a rolling hanger, were four gorgeous dresses. The bride’s dress was an off-white lace-and-ruffle number. It was very Victorian, and even had a fan and umbrella to match. The bridesmaid dresses were simple V-necked shifts—one was lilac, another sea-foam green, and the other a very subtle peach. All elegant.
I smiled at Holly. “Ready for battle?”
She laughed. “Oh yes, believe me, I’ve dealt with last-minute wedding alterations before.”
“Good. Because this is my first time.” I called a porter and said, “Follow me.”
A few minutes later, I knocked on the door to Melanie’s hotel suite. It opened, and one of her bridesmaids, Sheila, pulled Holly and me in with a very wobbly smile. They had definitely been drinking. There were several empty wine bottles littered around the room. The bride-to-be was sprawled out on the sofa, one
fuzzy slipper on, the other dangling from her big toe.
I was pretty sure it was time for an intervention.
As the other girls fawned and squealed over the dresses, I whispered to Holly to not make any alternations to them yet. I stood over Melanie.
She smiled up at me. “AaaAndiee.”
“I’m wondering if you’ve heard from Karl.”
She pouted. “No. I’ve texted him a bajillion times.”
“Then maybe it’s not such a good idea to plan a wedding,” I said kindly. “The groom should be involved.”
“But he said he loved meeeeee.”
“I’m sure he did, Melanie. You’re a loveable girl.”
“I am?” She grabbed my hand and tried to pull me down to her. I stood my ground.
“Do your parents know about the wedding?”
She frowned. “No. But they wouldn’t understand. They don’t believe in love at first sight.”
“Don’t you want your parents to be at your wedding? It’s such a huge step to take without the support and love of family.”
She slapped her hands over her face and started to sob. She was saying words, but they were muffled, and I couldn’t make out anything.
All three of her friends piled on top of her to soothe her. Sheila glared at me. “What did you say to her?”
“Probably things maybe you three should’ve been telling her.”
“You’re not very nice,” one of the other girls said.
“I know. I’m a horrible person,” Sheila replied.
I glanced over at Holly, who was looking uncomfortable and wringing her hands near the dress rack. I went over to her. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say there won’t be dress fittings today.”
The porter asked, “Do you want me to take the dresses back to the concierge closet?”
“Yeah. We’ll keep them there until I know for sure that they can go back to Blossom. Thanks for the indulgence.”
Holly smiled and patted me on the arm. “No problem. Good luck with…” She gestured to the gaggle of girls on the sofa.
“Thanks.”
Holly opened the suite door, and the porter rolled the rack out.
Melanie popped up from the sofa, mascara streaks like stripes down her flushed cheeks. “Where are the dresses going?”
“Just downstairs to my special storage.”
“But aren’t we going to try them on?” Sheila whined.
I ignored her and eyed Melanie. “I think you know the right thing here.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I want to talk to Karl.”
“I want to talk to him, too, actually.” I shook my head. “I have tried to track him down. He’s not at his apartment or at any of his usual hangouts.”
“I’m not canceling anything until I talk to him.”
“Okay, I’ll find him and bring him here to talk to you. Until we get back, why don’t you take a nap?” I turned to the drunken bridesmaids. “In fact, all of you should take a nap. So you’ll be ready for the big event tonight.”
Instead of thanking me, Melanie picked up a near-empty bottle of wine on the side table and tipped it back to her mouth. She collapsed on the sofa again, and her girls surrounded her like bubble wrap encasing something fragile. I appreciated their friendship wall of support. Melanie would need it, regardless of how all of this turned out.
I left her suite and went down to the lobby. As I marched across the floral carpet to the front doors, I saw Ginny.
“You look like a woman on a mission,” she said.
“I am. Want to help me hunt for Karl?”
“Oh hell yeah.” She pumped her fist into the air, then frowned. “But we need snacks for this mission.” She jogged over to the Lady Slipper Tea Room and grabbed a couple of bottles of Kombucha and some rice chips.
Now that we had supplies, we walked out of the hotel and commandeered a cart. We were on hotel business, and there was no way I was going to walk around the village for hours on end looking for Karl. There wasn’t much daylight left, and I needed to find him before seven o’clock—to keep Melanie from being left at the altar.
Chapter 17
Ginny and I drove around the main village for an hour, popping into every drinking establishment we came across, looking for Karl. We stopped by the historical society office again—the “ten-minute” sign was still on the door—and checked his apartment. Nothing. No sign of him. I thought briefly about visiting his sister, Dr. Neumann, at the hospital, but thought again—that might be bad form.
As we pulled away from the curb behind the historical society building and rolled out onto Main Street, my gaze swept over the ferry dock and where JC and Reggie always sat playing their game of chess.
“Stop the cart!”
Ginny jerked us to a stop in the middle of the road. A horse-drawn taxi honked its horn and came to a noisy halt behind us. “What?”
I pointed toward the dock. “There’s Karl.”
She pulled the cart over to the curb near the Swan Song bar, and we jumped out and hurried down the dock toward the ferry station. Karl seemed engaged in a lively conversation with Reggie and JC, based on his hands gesturing this way and that. When we approached and he noticed us, his hands dropped to his side, and he visibly sagged.
He knew why we were there.
“Hello, Karl,” I said evenly.
He held his hands up in front of him, palms out. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Is that so?” I lifted an eyebrow at him.
He pouted like a schoolboy being scolded. “I should never have led Melanie on.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. And you’re an ass for doing so. But you are an even bigger ass for not calling her back and telling her the truth. That poor girl ordered a wedding cake, reception food, a wedding dress.”
Reggie got to his feet and smacked Karl in the back of the head. “What the hell did you do, boy?”
“He let this poor girl that he just met think he was going to marry her. Tonight.”
Reggie smacked him again before Karl could dodge out of the way.
Karl said, “I know. It’s just…we drank so much, and she is very persuasive.”
Ginny crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Tell me you are not going to put this whole debacle on her.”
He put his hand up to ward off Ginny’s anger. “I know. I know.”
“You have a chance to make it right,” I said.
“How?”
“Come with us to the hotel and talk to Melanie. Let her down easy. Tell her how beautiful and desirable she is, but you can’t get married.”
“I don’t want to break her heart,” he said, and I believed he actually meant it. Karl wasn’t a callous man. He was just a reckless one, especially when it came to women.
Ginny still tapped her foot. I waited. Reggie and JC seemed like they might give Karl a couple more whacks for good measure.
Karl looked at all of us, ran his hands through his long, dark hair, and sighed heavily. “Okay.”
We all piled into the golf cart and went back up the hill. When we reached the hotel, I thought I was going to have to literally pull Karl across the lobby, he was dragging his feet so much. I turned and gave him an admonishing look, and he thankfully picked up the pace. Ginny had been distracted by a call from Clinton, and her smile was so huge as she talked, I didn’t have the heart to force her to accompany us to Karl’s impending slaughter. Although Karl was no lamb. He was more like a fox. Quick to play, and quicker to hide if given the chance. Which I would not do.
Chapter 18
Standing in front of the door to Melanie’s suite, I had to grab Karl’s wrist before he bolted. I’d never seen someone sweat so much in my life. Strands of his silky hair were stuck to his forehead, and he had sweat stains down the sides of his shirt.
I knocked twice, and the door opened.
I ushered Karl into the lionesses’ den. Four sets of eyeliner-rimmed cat eyes glared at him. I fe
lt a little bad for him. He’d made a big mistake, and he was definitely paying for it.
Melanie jumped up from the sofa where I’d left her. “I’ve been calling you.”
“I know.” He gnawed on his bottom lip, trying to keep his gaze on Melanie and not the three other women throwing eye daggers at him.
“Okay, c’mon ladies. Let’s leave these two to talk.” I gestured toward the door.
“Where are we supposed to go?” Sheila asked.
“Drinks are on me down in the lounge,” I said.
The girls high-fived before quickly leaving the room. I glanced at Melanie to make sure she would be okay without her posse. She had her hands on her hips and was just about to launch into a full-on rant, so I figured she had the situation handled.
I followed the young women down to the lounge and informed the bartender, Rodney, that their drinks were on the house. After much persuasion, I sat at the bar and joined them for one drink.
As they chatted about everything from “how much alcohol was really in their drinks” to one of the girl’s embarrassing tan lines, I halfheartedly listened, laughing politely when called for a response. These young women were a good ten years younger than I was…and so much was different for them. Social media was a huge influencer for them, and all of that nonsense was barely a blip on my radar.
When the conversation turned to college and their excitement and dread of returning to it for their senior years in the fall, I thought about when I’d first started at University of Michigan. I remembered moving my stuff into my dorm room, excited for the future, scared of being alone, and meeting Ginny. She’d hugged me the first instant we’d met. From that moment, our friendship had been solidified.
I envied them their naïve enthusiasm for what was to come. I was like that all through the years at U of M, and only slightly less so at Stanford Law School afterward. Even my first years working at Alcott, Chambers & Rucker were full of anticipation.
It had been six years later, there at that very firm, when Derek Alcott told me that my boss, Jeremy, had embezzled millions—that’s when my naivety had vanished in an instant. I still had hopes, though, of practicing law again. Not at that firm. I wouldn’t go back to those snakes on a bet. But somewhere else. I was a lawyer in my heart. Not a concierge. All this stuff I’d had to deal with in the past few days was proof positive that being a concierge was not my highest and best calling, for sure. Maybe I should’ve admitted defeat and saved Samuel the time and energy necessary to get rid of me. Get out of Casey’s way and move on. Somewhere that would let my cats come back home, too.
