Reservation with Death: A Park Hotel Mystery (The Park Hotel Mysteries Book 1)

by Diane Capri

  I ran into Megan at the machines.

  “Do you know where Nancy is?”

  “Up on the second floor, I think.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I turned to go.

  “Hey,” she said, stopping me. “You didn’t tell anyone about me and Patrick, did you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Are you sure? Cuz my dad is acting all weird.”

  “Like I said before, I’m sure your dad wouldn’t listen to me, anyway.”

  She snapped her gum. “Yeah, that’s true. He says you’re kind of annoying.”

  “Great.”

  I left the laundry and went in search of Nancy on the second floor. I found her with Tina cleaning a section of rooms. Nancy was making a bed when I peeked in.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

  “Did you go over my papers?”

  “I did, and I have good news.” I proceeded to tell her about how the law worked concerning matrimonial property and the monetary responsibilities of both parties. Basically, I told her she could tell her ex to shove the papers he sent her up his butt. She was very happy to hear that.

  “What do you need?” she asked.

  “Access to a room.”

  Ten minutes later, Nancy let me into Steve Bower’s hotel room.

  “You would not believe how fast this guy went through the mini bar.” She shook her head. “Not sure how Pamela puts up with him.”

  “Do you know Pamela?”

  She made a face. “Not personally, no. She’s a bit younger than me, but my dad knew hers. They were both plumbers. She was just a regular girl from a regular blue-collar family. Then bam she marries the richest guy on the island.”

  As she talked, I went to the closet and opened it. Hanging inside was one of the spa robes. Beneath it was a pair of men’s shoes. I picked one up and felt inside. It was slightly damp. I put it up to my nose and sniffed. There was a faint odor of chlorine mixed in with the other horrible smells. Also hanging up was a gray suit. That made sense considering everyone was wearing their golf attire for today’s activities.

  “Pamela used to be a champion swimmer, you know? Was heading to the Olympics but got injured. Car accident, I think.”

  I thought about her limp. “That’s horrible.”

  “Yeah. It sucks.” She waved her hand around the beautiful room. “But, hey, look at her now. She gets to stay in rooms like this, while I just clean them.”

  Nancy had to know that Pamela was not staying at the hotel, but I understood what she meant.

  As Nancy wandered out, I looked over the rest of the room, searching for anything of consequence. I didn’t find anything incriminating like an errant cell phone with lurid text messages or a pad of paper with clues written on it. I checked in the bathroom and found nothing but the usual toiletries for a wealthy man like Steve Bower and a pair of socks hanging over the towel rack. They smelled like chlorine.

  I left the room, and Nancy closed up after me. I had to tell the sheriff about the robe and shoes before Steve could get rid of the evidence. Although I considered whether the items were really evidence of anything at all. Theoretically, Steve could’ve used the spa services just as Daniel had, and then came up to his room in the robe. But why were his shoes wet? Later I’d check with the spa to see if Steve had booked a service.

  “Got what you needed?” Nancy asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” I was about to head for the stairs when another thought popped into my mind. I turned to her. “Ah, could I check out one more room?”

  She sighed but didn’t say no.

  I went into Daniel’s room quickly. I just needed to check on one thing. I opened the closet door and saw two suits hanging there. A charcoal-gray one, and the cobalt-blue one I’d seen him wearing the first day I met him. Relief washed over me, and smiling, I closed the door and left the room.

  “Now, I’m done. Thanks.”

  I reached the door to the stairwell when I heard my name. I turned to see Lois walking toward me.

  “What are you doing up here?” she asked.

  “Ah, I was just giving Nancy some good news about her divorce.”

  She eyed me as if she was trying to decide if I was telling her the truth or not. Finally, she nodded.

  “I heard you were a dynamo on the course this morning.”

  I shrugged. “I held my own.”

  “More than that, from what I heard. Mayor Evans couldn’t stop raving about you.” She narrowed her eyes at me. It was a warning. It screamed OFF LIMITS.

  “It was…fun.”

  “So, I was hoping you’d do one more thing for me today.”

  I was just about to open my mouth and say, “But this is my day off,” but I refrained. The tightrope I was balancing on was too wobbly right now. And thin. It was like standing on one toe on a strand of spaghetti.

  “Sure,” I said instead. “What do you need?”

  “I need you to take a gift basket to Casey Cushing’s mother. She’s recovering at the hospital from hip surgery.”

  “Um, you want me to give a basket to the mother of the man whose job I’ve taken?”

  She chuckled and shook her head. She patted me on the shoulder. “She’s in room 306.”

  “Does Casey know who I am?”

  “Oh yeah, he knows.” She chuckled again. “Thanks, Andi. I really appreciate it.”

  Chapter 28

  The basket was huge, so I couldn’t carry it down to the village. I actually didn’t even know where the hospital was. After asking Lane at the front desk and getting a map of the town, I pilfered a golf cart from the clubhouse and drove down the hill, the huge gift basket as my passenger. I passed Daniel, Lindsey, and Justin walking along the sidewalk. Daniel waved at me, a crooked, amused grin on his face. I waved back, trying hard not to blush from embarrassment.

  Since I suspected the visit to the hospital was going to be awkward, I decided I needed some pick-me-up fuel, so I stopped at the café for an espresso. And an apple strudel. I had missed lunch again, and the strudel did have apples in it. So it was sort of nutritious and good for me. At least that was how I was selling it to my food-conscious brain. My stomach didn’t care as long as there was something in there to digest for once.

  After I was fully caffeinated, I returned to the cart, pleased no one had stolen my passenger, which I had almost forgotten about in my haste to get some coffee. I jumped in, started up, and was doing a U-turn to head down Main Street when I heard a woman cry out in distress nearby. I pulled over and noticed the very pregnant girl from the other night struggling with carrying a bunch of grocery bags up some stairs to an apartment above the corner pub. I parked and ran out to help her.

  “Here,” I said, trying to take the bags from her, “let me take these up for you.”

  “No, I got it.” She held on to the bags. She was surprisingly strong.

  “You shouldn’t be carrying all this stuff in your condition, especially not up these steep stairs.”

  “I’m fine.” But I could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. I knew it didn’t all have to do with her groceries.

  “You are clearly not fine.” I tugged on the bags again. “I want to help.”

  “I don’t want your help.” She tugged back.

  Now, the most logical thing to do in a situation like this would be to leave her to it and walk away. She’d said several times she didn’t need my help. But not every problem could be solved with logic.

  I looked her firm in the eyes and gritted my teeth. “I am helping you, whether you like it or not. I will not feel good about myself if I walk away from a very pregnant, upset young woman who needs help whether she knows it or not.”

  “Fine.” She rolled her eyes but relinquished her grip on the grocery bags.

  Carrying the bags, I followed her up the steep set of stairs. She unlocked the door and went in. I followed and set the bags in the tiny excuse of a kitchen. It was m
ore like a kitchenette a person would see in a cheap motel off a long stretch of highway. The rest of the apartment was clean, but it was small. I wondered how this girl was getting along. Did she have a job? Who was looking after her?

  “Thank you,” she said. “You did your duty. You can go now.”

  I nodded. I wouldn’t push her. I could see she was on the edge of breaking. I didn’t know what was going on, but I could certainly guess.

  “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay. But I’m going to give you my number. My name is Andi, and if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.” I turned and looked for some paper and a pen on the counter. I couldn’t see anything except for a few non-descript envelopes, the kind bills or notices of overdue payments came in. That’s when I noticed the name on the envelopes. I picked one up and turned to her.

  “Sasha Wilkes.”

  She gave me a look. “Yeah, that’s my name.” She came toward me and snatched the envelope out of my hand. “Mind your own business.”

  “Is Thomas Banks your brother?”

  Her eyes went wide, and she pressed her lips together. “I told you to go.”

  A million scenarios went through my head. None of them good. “Sasha, if you’re in trouble, I can help you.”

  “Look, lady…I don’t know what you think you know, but I don’t need your help. Leave me the hell alone.” She marched to the door, as best she could in her condition, opened it, and pointed for me to get out.

  I couldn’t leave. I just couldn’t, not in good conscience. But I didn’t know what else to do. She wanted me to go. I couldn’t force her to take my help. Probably the best thing I could do for her, and for everyone, was to march over and tell Sheriff Jackson everything I knew and everything I suspected.

  I walked to the door but stopped just before exiting. “I don’t know why you’re lying to me Sasha—you must have your reasons—but I want you to know that he’s not worth it. He’s not worth protecting. You need to think of your baby and what’s best for it and for you.”

  Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. She licked her lips, and I thought maybe she was going to trust me. Then her eyes went really wide, her mouth made a little O, and a rush of water splashed onto the floor and all over my second pair of new shoes.

  Chapter 29

  “Oh my God, did I just pee all over the floor?” Sasha sobbed.

  “No, hun, your water just broke.”

  She shook her vehemently. “Nope. No way. I’m not due for another four weeks.”

  “Well, I’m thinking your baby doesn’t care.” I took her by the arm. “We should get you to the hospital.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “You have to.”

  She rubbed a hand over her belly. “I’m not having contractions.”

  “Doesn’t matter. When your water breaks, you risk the chance of infection.”

  “How do you know? Do you have kids?”

  “No, I just read a lot.” I pulled on her arm again, but she wasn’t budging. “C’mon. I know you’re scared, but it’ll be all right. I promise.”

  “I’m not scared.” She lifted her chin in defiance.

  “Okay, but I am. I’d feel so much better if you were in the hospital, safely having this baby.”

  “Why do you care so much? You don’t know me.”

  I sighed. “Because I found your brother’s body, okay? That messes with a person. And I kind of feel obligated now to take care of his affairs. And I’m assuming he cared about you and would want you to be looked after.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I’ll go get changed and get my bag.” She disappeared into the bedroom and then returned in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. She slung a small, pink backpack over her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  I helped her lock up, then escorted her down the stairs to the golf cart. She looked at me funny when I nudged the gift basket over and told her to get in. “Don’t ask,” I said. “It’s a long story.”

  Sasha guided me off of Main Street and onto Lilac Street that would take us right to the hospital. It was only six blocks away. Although I wasn’t driving fast—the cart could only go twelve mph, fifteen if I pushed it—Sasha was hanging on for dear life. I wondered if her contractions had suddenly kicked in. I’d never been pregnant nor had a close friend who’d given birth, so I didn’t really know how it all worked. I mean, I did from a biological standpoint, but not from reality.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded but didn’t look at me.

  “I’m really sorry about your brother.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but—” The cart sputtered and jerked, effectively cutting me off, until it rolled to a stop in the middle of the street. I glanced at the gas gauge. It was empty. I smacked the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. “Perfect.”

  “Did we just run out of gas?”

  “Yes.” I sighed. This was just how my week was going.

  “It’s only two blocks away. I can walk.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded and slid out of the cart.

  I got out, grabbed the gift basket and her bag, after some back-and-forth tugging with her for a few minutes, then we started the short jaunt to the hospital. After walking half a block, Sasha stopped, put a hand on her belly, and grimaced.

  “Oh crap,” she groaned.

  “Are you having contractions?”

  She nodded and winced again, as I assumed another wave of pain surged over her.

  I looked around. There was no one visible to help us. I looked up the street and could see the hospital. It wasn’t far, but I was certain Sasha couldn’t make it.

  “Okay, I’m going to run to the hospital and get a wheelchair, then run back and get you.”

  She gave me a look like I was nuts. And I suspected she was right. I didn’t really feel in control right now.

  “You wait in the cart.” I took her arm and helped her back to the cart so she could sit comfortably. Once she was seated, I hugged the gift basket tight and made a run for it. Anyone looking out the window would see some mad woman running by with a giant plastic-wrapped basket of sausage, crackers, and cheese.

  Chapter 30

  I made it to the hospital, ran through the main doors, startling two elderly women and a nurse. “I need a wheelchair. My friend is in labor.”

  A nurse came out from behind the main counter, rolling one toward me. “Where is she?”

  “About two blocks down that street.”

  “You left her there?”

  “Well, I couldn’t carry her, now could I?”

  She stared pointedly at the huge gift basket in my arms and then rolled her eyes. She followed me down the two blocks to where I’d left Sasha. She was leaning forward in the cart and panting, using the breathing techniques that were universally taught for giving birth. The nurse helped her into the wheelchair, and we hightailed it to the hospital.

  Once inside, the nurse wheeled Sasha to the right to take her to one of two maternity rooms. I followed along to make sure she got in there safe and sound.

  Another nurse handed me a clipboard with a bunch of forms on it. “Could you please fill out your partner’s information for me please?”

  “Oh, we’re not together.”

  She looked me up and down. “Uh-huh. Okay. Could you please fill out the forms? Thank you.” And off she shuffled in her squeaky white shoes.

  I carried the clipboard into the room, where the nurse was helping Sasha into a gown.

  I immediately shielded my eyes and turned away. “Sorry.”

  Sasha responded with a vehement grunt of pain that made me cringe.

  “I need to fill out these forms for you, Sasha. I’m just going to go into your purse to get your ID and such.”

  I set her bag down on the foldout chair and set the gift basket on the floor.
Since she didn’t oppose, I proceeded to unzip her bag and search around for her wallet. I took it out and flipped through it to find her ID. Using it, I filled out some of the forms. Then I went back to see if she had an insurance card. I didn’t find any insurance, but I did find a strip of photos—like you get from those fun photo booths—of her and a man wearing sunglasses and a ball cap. They were kissing in two of the photos. Peering at them, I had the sense I recognized the man. It was hard to really tell with his eyes and hair covered. But he almost looked like Steve Bower. I wanted to ask Sasha about it but felt like maybe this was a really bad time to bring it up, considering she was just about ready to pop out a child. Maybe even Steve’s child.

  I put the photos back, then turned to find the nurse to give her the clipboard.

  “I filled them out as best as I could.”

  The nurse took it and nodded. “Okay, Sasha. The doctor will be in soon to check to see how far along you are. The contractions are about seven minutes apart. So we’re close, but it could still be hours yet before baby comes.” She gave me a curt nod, then marched out of the room.

  I watched as Sasha paced the room, bending over and wincing every once in a while. I was unsure of what to do. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

  She quickly shook her head.

  “Any friends?”

  Another shake of her head.

  “Your mother maybe?”

  “She’s dead.”

  Way to step in it, Andi. “I’m sorry.” I grimaced, remembering that I’d seen her mother’s obituary during my research. “How about…the father?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Um, okay, so…it looks like you’re in good hands here, so I’m just going to go.” I picked up the gift basket. “I need to deliver this basket, then—”

  She cried out as she dropped to one knee.

  Nearly tossing the basket aside, I rushed to her. “Are you okay?”

  She cried out again.

  After setting the basket onto the bed, I crouched next to her and patted her back. “It’s going to be okay.”