A Salt and Battery

by Liliana Hart

“Skinny?”

  “Your lady friend,” Gaston said. “You didn’t properly introduce us yesterday.”

  “My apologies,” Hank said, rolling his eyes.

  “Anyways, Martha was pretty desperate for my attention last night, and she’d already had a couple of drinks before she called me up and invited me to her room.” Gaston stopped to whistle. “It’s a nice room, cher. She’s got a penthouse suite.”

  “You went to her room?” Hank asked.

  “I ain’t no dummy. Man don’t live on bread alone,” Gaston said. “I slapped on some Old Spice and one thing led to another. Only problem was I woke up this morning and saw her without all that makeup and just about died. She old, man. That makeup is the work of the devil. It’s deceptive.”

  Hank stifled a laugh, and said, “Go on.”

  “I was looking around for my pants and shoes, but you’ll never guess what I found instead. There was this fancy bag that had kind of spilled out onto the floor and there was this mystery book and a ravioli rolling pin.”

  Hank’s feet hit the floor, and he got up, searching for the nearest clothes to put on. “Are you sure?” Hank asked

  “Yep. But I didn’t touch it or nothin’,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause there’s blood on it, cher.”

  “Is it still there?” Hank asked, rushing out of his room to see if Agatha was anywhere to be found.

  “Don’t know. I snuck out. She’s a late sleeper, and she had a lot to drink, so I figure she won’t be up for a few hours yet.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m eating breakfast. The eggs Benedict are to die for.”

  “Not the best choice of words,” Hank said. “When you’re done head back up to your room and do not answer the phone or the door unless you hear from me. And especially don’t communicate with Martha if she reaches out.”

  “Sure thing, cher.”

  “Aggie, you awake?” he called out, and then he went to her room and banged on the door. “Aggie.” But there was no answer.

  He texted her and then called Coil to ask for a search warrant for Martha’s suite at the hotel. Coil was an early riser, and since he was already at the office, he offered to type up the warrant affidavit and get the judge to sign off.

  The front door burst open and Agatha came rushing in. He had his gun pointed at her before he knew what he was doing.

  “Yikes,” she said, bending down to catch her breath. “Put that thing away. You’ll shoot your eye out.” And then she chuckled to herself.

  “I could have killed you,” he said, exasperated. “Taking me by surprise is never a good idea.”

  “Hey, I live here too,” she said. “I should be able to walk in my own front door without getting shot in the head. Maybe you should go back to bed and get some more sleep.”

  Hank blew out a breath and put the gun away. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “You said there was an emergency?” she asked.

  Agatha was dressed in leggings, a T-shirt with a hoodie over it and she wore a sweatband.

  “Running?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s what I do in the mornings. How long have you known me? That’s how we met, remember?”

  “Sure do,” he said, grinning. “That’s when you broke my sprinkler.”

  “Hank,” she said, putting her fists at her hips. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Gaston called. He spent the night with our favorite jailbird and found Rowdy’s ravioli rolling pin next to your book. And the rolling pin had blood on it.”

  “Get out of here,” she said, gasping.

  “Coil’s getting a search warrant right now. Let’s get dressed and be ready to roll. I don’t want to give her the chance to get rid of anything. Even if we have to stand outside her door until the warrant arrives.”

  “You got it, sweet cheeks,” she said, heading to her side of the house and the shower. “But when this thing is over we need to do some serious wedding planning.”

  “You got it,” Hank said.

  Hank went back to his side of the house, his mind on the wedding. In two months they would be married. They’d be sharing a room instead of living in separate sides of the house like roommates. He looked around the barren space and started to panic. It was just a bed and basic furniture. There was nothing on the walls. No curtains on the windows.

  There were definitely some upgrades that could be made on the house. He wanted their house to feel like home for the both of them. And maybe if he told Agatha to make some changes or pick out bedding and decorations it would feel more like her house instead of her being a tenant.

  He promised to get on that as soon as they’d made an arrest in this case. Which seemed like it would be very soon.

  Twenty minutes later, Hank stepped into the living room wearing his favorite khaki 5.11 trousers and his FBI National Academy polo shirt. He strapped on his weapon and his badge, just like he had for the last twenty-five years. Only now he was supposedly retired. Agatha was already waiting for him in pants very similar to his and a Bell County Sheriff’s Department shirt.

  “About time,” she said. “I thought you were in a hurry. Do you need to get breakfast first?”

  “Great idea,” he said. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  Hank ran into the kitchen and grabbed his regular breakfast of a banana and an Ensure. When he went outside and locked the front door, Agatha was already in the Jeep with the engine running.

  “How do we do this?” Agatha asked.

  “We’ll get a key from Tabitha or the manager. Whoever we can find. It shouldn’t take Coil too long to get the warrant, but every second we waste is another she has time to destroy evidence.”

  “If you get the chance,” Agatha said, “bust down the door. I need to see how hard that would be for my next book.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Hank said dryly.

  They went through the same process as the day before when getting onto the resort property.

  “Back again,” the valet said. “I’m assuming you just want me to leave this here?”

  “Please,” Agatha said, passing him a tip. “And hopefully this will be the last time you see us. At least for a couple of months.”

  Tabitha saw them coming, and Hank slowed his steps, unsure how she was going to greet them today. She was a woman stressed to the max, and he didn’t want to be in her crosshairs.

  “Good morning,” she said, beaming. “It’s wonderful to see you both again. Would you care for vouchers to the dining room for breakfast?”

  “Wow,” Agatha mouthed.

  Hank wasn’t sure what had happened since yesterday, but Tabitha had clearly gotten over her bad day.

  “I insist on the breakfast vouchers,” she said. “I owe you an apology for my behavior yesterday. I had no excuse for treating you that way. I just didn’t handle the stress well.”

  “We appreciate it,” Hank said. “And I’m sure you’re going to do an amazing job with the wedding. We have complete confidence in you.”

  Her smile brightened even more. “Thank you. What can I help you with this morning?”

  “We’re actually waiting for a warrant to come through,” Hank said, lowering his voice. “Would you be able to give us a master access key?”

  Tabitha’s smile went down a notch. “Unfortunately, I can’t. That would give you access to everything. Even our vault room. Is there a specific room you need?” she asked. “I could get you a key for that while you’re waiting.”

  “I appreciate it, but I have to get word from the judge first,” Hank said. “What time does housekeeping start knocking on doors on the fourth floor?”

  She looked at her watch. “They’ve already started.” And then she lowered her voice. “Martha Magee is on the fourth floor.”

  Hank zipped his lips and threw away the key, and Tabitha gave him a thumbs-up. “If you head up now you can probably catch them before they get to her room.”

/>   “Thanks, Tabitha,” Hank said. “You’ve been a big help.”

  They bolted toward the bank of elevators. There was a crowd of slow-moving seniors in front of them, and Hank held his badge overhead and announced that everyone should move away from the elevator doors. People scattered. The bell dinged and he and Agatha rushed in and closed the door before anyone else could join them.

  When the doors slid open on the fourth floor, they raced down the hallway toward the room number that Gaston had given them. The room service cart was parked in front of the room next to Martha’s. The door opened and two cleaning ladies waved at him as he struggled to catch his breath.

  “Can we help you?” one of the women asked.

  “Have you…have you…” Hank said, his lungs burning with the effort to breathe.

  “He’s not a fan of cardio,” Agatha said, stepping up. “Have y’all cleaned the room next door yet?”

  The women took a step back and their eyes went wide. Hank held up his badge.

  “No, not yet. I’m Marguerite,” she said. “This is Sheila. Is she in some kind of trouble?”

  “Something like that,” Agatha said. “Do you know if she’s awake or if she’s called room service?”

  “We won’t know until we knock on the door,” said Marguerite. “She’s always been up and dressed when we’ve come to service her room each day. She sometimes has room service bring her breakfast and we’ll clear the trays away.”

  “She’s very nice,” Sheila said. “And she tips well.”

  “Would you mind knocking on the door?” Agatha asked.

  “But we’re not ready to clean.”

  “Here’s the thing,” Hank said. “She’s not as nice as you think she is. There’s about to be a whole lot of cops up here. But we could really use your help. If you’ll just knock and announce yourselves like normal, we’ll take it from there.”

  “Sure,” Marguerite said. “We can do that. But then we’ve got to get back to work. If Miss Tabitha knew we’d even stopped to talk to you she’d have our hides.”

  “Tabitha?” Hank asked. “She’s your supervisor? I thought she was the events coordinator.”

  Marguerite rolled her eyes. “What she is, is the owner’s granddaughter, and she’s studying hotel management. So she has her fingers in a lot of pies. And she won’t hesitate to rat us out if we get off schedule. She was up here yesterday afternoon, and I figured she was checking our work and looking for mistakes. She got real nasty when I asked her what she was doing.”

  “We saw that side of her yesterday,” Agatha said. “She said she was pretty stressed.”

  “Pshh,” Shelia said. “She’s not stressed. She’s got man troubles. Everybody knows she’s goo-goo eyed over some guy the past couple of months. The staff gossips about that kind of stuff, especially when it’s management hooking up.”

  “Wow,” Hank said. “Who knew? Can you go ahead and knock on the door? I don’t want y’all to get into trouble.”

  Marguerite knocked on the door and announced herself through the door, and then knocked one more time. Then she put her key card in and opened the door a crack. “Ms. Martha, it’s housekeeping. Can we come in?”

  There was no answer on the other side of the door, and Hank’s spirits deflated. She could have already left and taken the murder weapon with her.

  “I guess she’s already out for the day,” Marguerite said, pushing open the door for them.

  “Are you sure we can go in without the warrant?” Agatha asked.

  “We can go in,” Hank said. “We just can’t start the search. It’s called inevitable discoverability. If we feel there could be destruction of evidence we can go in and secure the scene while we’re waiting for the warrant.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Agatha said.

  “Sorry I didn’t get to bust down the door for you,” Hank told her.

  “Maybe next time, Rambo.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Agatha went in first in case Martha was undressed, and she called out again. But there was still no answer. The suite was huge, and very messy. Martha was a slob. There were clothes and shoes and shopping bags tossed everywhere.

  “Living area is clear,” Agatha called back to Hank, and he followed her in. “I’m going to check the bedroom.”

  “I’ll check the other rooms,” he said. “Good grief. How much space does one woman need?”

  The bedroom door was cracked open, and Agatha pushed it the rest of the way. The blinds and curtains were open, showing off the golf course and fountains, and the bed was a shambles. There were champagne bottles and empty glasses, and some uncomfortable-looking lingerie hung from one of the wall sconces.

  She stepped into the room and heard the muffled giggle from behind the closed bathroom door. Agatha put her ear to the door and heard the shower running.

  “Martha?” she called out.

  “Sorry for the mess, darling,” Martha said. “I promise I’ll give you a giant tip for the inconvenience. I had a little too much to drink last night. Be a doll and change the sheets for me.”

  There was another muffled giggle, and Agatha’s brow furrowed.

  “Martha Magee,” Agatha said. “This is Agatha Harley with the police. We have a warrant to search the premises.”

  Technically, that wasn’t true. Yet. But it was all she could think of to say at the moment.

  “Get out of my room! I’m calling my lawyer. You people are insufferable.”

  “It’s probably a good idea that you do,” Agatha said. “I hope she’s a good criminal attorney. You’re going to need one.”

  Her phone buzzed and she looked down at the text from Hank letting her know the search warrant had been signed and he’d found the rolling pin.

  “Thank God,” Agatha said, and let out a sigh of relief.

  There was no need to keep stringing Martha along. She pushed open the pocket door that led into the bathroom, and a billowing cloud of steam gave her a facial.

  “Martha Magee, you’re under—” Agatha paused when she heard a man’s voice. “What in the world?” she whispered, pulling out her gun just to be on the safe side. Hank was going to be really disappointed if it was Gaston in there with Martha.

  “Martha, I’m giving you until the count of three to come out with your hands up,” Agatha said.

  “Call my lawyer,” Martha said.

  “Sorry, Martha. I’m not your secretary. Come out with your hands up.” Agatha spoke louder. “I also need whoever is in there with you to come out with their hands up.”

  “There’s no one in here but me,” Martha added quickly.

  Hank came in behind her and tapped her on the shoulder to let her know he was there.

  “She’s in the shower with someone,” Agatha whispered.

  “I told Gaston to keep away from her,” he said, furious. “I’m going to throw his butt in jail.”

  “I’m calling the police,” Martha warned, a tinge of hysteria in her voice.

  “We are the police,” Agatha said, losing her patience.

  “Gaston,” Hank yelled. “Come out of that shower right now.”

  “Gaston?” a man said. “Why would he think it was Gaston in here with you, my peach?”

  “Who is that?” Agatha asked Hank. “He sounds familiar.”

  The shower door opened and Kristoff came storming out as naked as a jaybird. “I’ve never felt so used,” he said dramatically. “Gaston, that big Cajun oaf. I want no part of this.”

  “Wait, Kristoff,” Martha screeched, coming out behind him.

  If Agatha didn’t have to keep her gun on them she would’ve covered her eyes. Nobody needed to see that first thing in the morning.

  “Wow, she works fast,” Agatha said. “Gaston hasn’t been gone but a couple of hours.”

  Kristoff’s eyes bugged and he turned to stare Martha down. “You tramp,” he said, yanking a towel from the hook and tying it around his waist. “We are finished. You are finished. We can find
anyone to be a judge. Anyone but you.” He walked past them stiff as a board.

  Hank followed Kristoff out of the room to turn him over to the other officers arriving on scene, but Agatha stayed where she was with her weapon trained on Martha.

  “You’re under arrest, Martha,” Agatha said.

  “For what? For cheating on Gaston with Kristoff?” she asked. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a stallion. I’m wild and free.”

  “Except for that whole marriage thing.”

  “That only counts when I’m home,” she said. “Stop judging me. I’ve done hard time. A woman has needs when she gets out of prison.”

  Agatha tossed her a robe. “Put that on. As good as your plastic surgery is I’m tired of looking at it. You can get dressed before we take you in.”

  “I told you,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to call my lawyer and sue you all. And then I’m going to own this stupid resort and the town it’s in.”

  “Uh-huh,” Agatha said. “I don’t think you understand. You’re not walking away from this one. Now come on before I drag you out by your hair.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Do you know how much these extensions cost?”

  Martha walked past Agatha, and Agatha followed behind her until they were in the main living area. Martha seemed surprised to see it filled with cops. Then her gaze went to the table and she saw her bag with the bloody rolling pin and the A.G. Riddle book, and her legs gave out beneath her.

  “What’s wrong, Martha?” Agatha asked. “The sight of blood bother you?”

  “That’s my bag,” she said.

  “Is that your blood?”

  “No.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Is that the weapon you used to kill Rowdy Mustang?”

  “No,” she said, a sob catching in her throat. “I didn’t kill him. I didn’t. I don’t understand. I just got back to the room last night. I haven’t even seen that bag in a couple of days. I thought I lost it.”

  “How’d it get here?” Agatha asked.

  “You tell me!” Martha screamed, turning around to face Agatha. “Aren’t you the detective?”

  “Okay, let me tell you what I think. I think you killed Rowdy, and then you walked into the café where your book signing was held bold as you please. You had the bag with you then. The murder weapon was inside the whole time because you didn’t have a place to stash it. Then you had the perfect opportunity to go back to the scene of the crime when we asked you to show us the room. Killers like to see their handiwork. Did you know that?”