Ellie’s eyes were composed, her face an almost blank surface. Aside from the marks and bruises from her attack, she looked calm. In a voice that betrayed no emotion, she said, ‘I will tell you about only one card. The others … well, they are after the fact. This card,’ she held it toward me so that I could see the picture of a man who stood looking skyward, holding a flower in one hand and a bundle in the other, ‘this is The Fool, the main player in the story. He is not as harmless as he looks, and can change to become whatever it is you want to see. He is very, very dangerous.’
Okaaaay , I thought. That was obviously the bad guy, the killer. But who did we know that could change himself to become something else altogether? It sounded like we should be looking for an overgrown chameleon.
‘Do you mean he can be someone who is nice to one person and mean to someone else?’ Maria timidly asked, her brow furrowed as she tried to understand Ellie’s meaning.
‘Yes and no,’ Ellie replied, replacing the card on her lap, face down. ‘It will be someone we think to be one way who is really another. He will be very good at disguising who he really is.’
Great. According to Ellie, now we were looking for someone who could be anybody, really, since most of us tend to be different people in different situations. And that, I thought, was proof positive why I’d never fall for the cards and their so-called ‘messages from beyond’; they made absolutely no sense to me and just got folks riled up. Besides, we tend to believe what we want to, cards or no cards. I just shook my head.
We three sat there quietly, each of us isolated within our own thoughts. I was contemplating the trip home, already thinking about Ellie and whether or not she’d be able to drive herself back. I’d figured that a two-day trip would be OK, especially if we timed it so we stopped near the vineyard that offered public tasting. We could stay the night somewhere nearby.
The phone rang, startling us all back to the present. Ellie and I looked at each other, not wanting to answer it for fear of what we’d hear. Maria, sensing our hesitation, reached over and picked up the receiver.
‘Hello? Ms Burnette’s room,’ she said, and then a broad smile lit up her face. ‘Of course! I will wait until you get here. Yes, we are fine. That would be very nice. Gracias, Fernando.’
I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. It was only Fernando, the valet and – I suspected – Maria’s ‘special someone’. He was a person I could trust, I felt, especially since he’d shown such concern over Emmy’s letter.
‘That was Fernando,’ Maria announced. ‘He’s on his way to get me, to walk me back to the kitchen. And he’ll bring something for you “as a midnight snack”, he said.’
‘Oh, that wasn’t necessary,’ I protested, but not very vigorously. Snacks at any time of the day or night were fine by me. Living at the Miramar had definitely spoiled me in the cooking department, and I dreaded having to make my own meals again. On the other hand, if I stayed here much longer, I might not be alive to eat any more of the wonderful things that came out of the Miramar kitchen.
Fernando arrived, carrying a tray of goodies that almost boggled the mind. I’d expected a few small pastries, perhaps a bag or two of popcorn for the microwave and the ubiquitous cookies, but what he’d brought surpassed even my imagination: small croissants, some drizzled with chocolate and almonds and some filled with cream cheese; two glass bowls of sliced fruit and small containers of various dipping sauces; and something that looked like miniature burritos, rolled tightly and arranged on a plate around a bowl of guacamole. Good Lord, I thought, if we actually eat all this as a late-night snack, they’ll have to roll the two of us out to our cars. But I was certainly willing to chance it.
‘Thanks, Fernando.’ I smiled at him. He looked embarrassed but pleased, and I could see the way Maria was looking at him. It was obvious that she had it bad.
After the couple left, holding hands and each smiling into the other’s face, I curled up on the couch next to Ellie. We were both exhausted, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to relax enough to fall asleep. We needed to, though, especially if we were driving back home tomorrow. I leaned my head back on the cushions and could feel myself starting to drift off. I must have fallen asleep almost instantly, because the next thing I knew, Ellie’s hand was on my shoulder and her mouth was close to my ear.
‘AJ!’ she hissed. ‘I swear I heard something out in the corridor. Get up and look!’
Me? Get up and look? I was still too groggy from my short nap to move from the couch. Next moment a sound, like breaking glass, sent the two of us flying across the room. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, and I sure as heck wasn’t volunteering to open the door and find out. Instead, I clung to Ellie’s arm, more awake now than I’d ever been before.
We stood, ears straining, listening for more sounds.
‘It’s as if it’s right outside the door,’ Ellie whispered. I had to agree.
Someone was cursing softly, and I could hear a tinkling, like glass being picked up. Taking a breath, I shook myself loose from Ellie’s grip and inched over to the window, cautiously lifting up an edge of the drapery.
I almost laughed aloud in relief. A man in a kitchen staff uniform was kneeling on the carpet, an empty tray near him. A dark slick of something wet covered the carpet, ice cubes tossed around like so many diamonds. The sound we’d heard was just him dropping a full pitcher of iced tea.
I glanced over at Ellie. She looked awful and, I could tell, was all the worse for the lack of sleep. She so desperately needed rest. Come to think of it, so did I. I double-checked the locks on the door, flicked the curtain back into place, and yawned so loudly that I was sure the man in the hall could hear.
‘Come on, Ellie. Let’s get some sleep.’ I walked toward the bedroom, my legs feeling as though they weighed a ton. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad tomorrow, I thought. Correction, I said to myself: hopefully things won’t be as bad tomorrow. I wasn’t sure if I could take anything else.
The light from beyond the bedroom window woke me next morning. I must have slept like the dead – not good phraseology, but apropos here at the Miramar – and Ellie looked as though she hadn’t stirred either. We’d both fallen asleep in the king-size bed, our backs to one another like we used to do when we’d sleep over at each other’s house. Long ago, we’d decided this was the best way to catch any monsters who dared creep in at night and get us, and that logic was never truer. Of course, we’d have to be awake to actually see an intruder, but still we’d both sleep well, conscious that we had each other’s backs.
I lay there a few minutes more, trying to decide what to do about breakfast. That was a good omen, I decided. Being more concerned with what I was going to eat than worrying about a killer on the loose meant that I was far less stressed.
I think if I could have seen what the day held in store for me, I might have just stayed in bed. Too bad I didn’t believe in foretelling the future.
Chapter Eighteen
I sat back on the couch, my feet on the coffee table and hands clasped over a full tummy. I was as close to miserable as I’d been in quite a while. I’d eaten so much my stomach actually hurt, but was it ever worth it!
The kitchen crew had outdone itself this morning: golden brown omelets oozed melted cheese, encasing a mélange of red and green peppers, mushrooms, and onion (I’d had so many of these already at the Miramar, but why stop a good thing?); crispy bacon with just the right amount of succulent fat left on the slices (that is always my favorite part, I have to admit); fresh fruit and yogurt topped with the resort’s homemade granola and toasted almonds; freshly squeezed orange juice; and a steaming carafe of coffee. I was in “hog heaven”, as my dad likes to say after a good meal.
Unfortunately, evil had invaded this hog heaven, this paradise. The Miramar, its appeal lost in a miasma of malevolence, was no longer the dream place to work. As I sat with my eyes closed, resting and waiting for Ellie to get out of the shower, I thought about eve
rything that had happened. If I hadn’t experienced it for myself, I would not have believed it.
I heard the shower water stop, and I maneuvered my feet onto the floor, giving a slight groan. I figured that if I lived on bread and water for the next month or two, I could lose the poundage gained in the week I’d been in San Blanco. And knowing Ellie the way I did, I was sure she’d be back into her crazy exercise regime as soon as she could move without pain. She was my own built-in boot camp fitness instructor.
I walked into the bedroom, ready to begin packing my few belongings. If you believe in destiny, it had certainly been at work in my case. I’d only packed enough for a week’s worth of clean clothes, and that was all I needed, as it turned out. I sighed, remembering Emmy’s elegant style of dress and her delightful laugh, her sweet way of handling even the most difficult guest. What an absolute waste. She’d been one of the few genuine folks I’d ever met, a real what-you-see-is-what-you-get woman, and it was particularly rare, because she was my boss. I’d be lucky to work for someone like her again.
I opened the closet. My new suitcase, bought especially for this little adventure, sat in lonely splendor on the top shelf. As I reached up to grab it and gave it a tug, something white fluttered to the ground. I just stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out where it came from. Presumably it had been on the shelf before I’d placed the suitcase there, and the dragging motion had dislodged it.
I stooped down and picked up the paper from the closet floor. Turning it over, I saw it was Miramar stationery, available in every suite and in the main lobby. I could see nothing written on it though, so I tossed it on the bed. Maybe I’d keep it for a souvenir, or ‘silver ear’, as Ellie and I liked to say. (We also said ‘itch-a-ma-skitch’ in place of ‘mosquito’, so go figure.)
The bathroom door opened, emitting an invigorating scent of lemon grass and mint. Ellie loved her bath products, and she always managed to find a combination that I never would have considered. On her, though, they always smelled awesome. I turned to smile at her, noting that she was moving a bit more easily.
‘It’s all yours,’ Ellie said, rubbing her hair with one of the Miramar’s luxurious towels. ‘If you want, you can use some of my body wash.’
‘I hope you left some hot water,’ I grumbled playfully, giving Ellie’s shoulder a gentle pat as I walked by toward the still steamy bathroom. When we were younger and would spend the night with Grandma Saddler, it was always a fight to see who’d get to take a bath first. The second little girl would be in for a quick cold dip, thanks to the old-fashioned water heater that held just enough for one tub of water.
I chose a bath over a shower; somehow, it always evoked a sense of calm for me in the way a shower couldn’t, no matter how many body washes claimed to be ‘relaxing’. The Miramar sure knew how to pamper its guests, I thought dreamily, splashing my toes in the frothy foam that covered the water like fresh snow. As much as I enjoyed my stay, though, I realized I was still just a small-town girl who enjoyed the simpler things in life. Of course, I was pretty sure my view on the Miramar was tainted by the murder and mayhem I’d experienced first-hand. There’s nothing like finding a dead body or two to put you off a good time.
Finally the water became tepid and the bubbles all but vanished. Reluctantly, I got myself out and dried part-way, throwing my robe over damp skin. Ellie thinks I’m weird, but I’ve never been one for drying off completely. Since she’s never done it herself, I don’t know how she can dismiss it. I say, don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.
Ellie was still in her robe, damp hair trailing over one shoulder. She was sitting on the edge of the bed nearest the window, holding the piece of Miramar stationery up to the light as though trying to decipher a secret code.
‘What’s up with the paper, Ellie?’ I ran a comb through my wet hair, being careful to start at the ends and work my way up, just like my mother had taught me. Actually, I tend to do most of the things she worked so hard to teach me, although to hear her tell it, I’m a lost cause.
‘I can almost see something …’ she said, her eyes examining the paper closely. ‘It’s like when you write something, the paper underneath can show what was written. You know,’ she added, turning to look at me. ‘Like those old detective shows, where someone finds a clue in an empty notebook.’
Huh? How could someone find a clue in an empty notebook? It would seem to me that empty meant just that – nothing there. My face must have betrayed me, because Ellie made the little disgusted noise she does whenever someone irks her. Like I was doing now, apparently.
‘Not empty empty, ding dong.’ Ellie thrust the paper at me. ‘Here, take it. Hold it up to the window and tell me what you see.’ She stood and took the towel from her head, tossing it into the bathroom. Thank goodness housekeeping was scheduled for today. It was beginning to look like my college dorm room in here.
I obediently held the paper up close to the window. There were a few faint markings, but nothing I could decipher. I had no idea what Ellie thought she was seeing. For all I knew, it might have been a list of places that the last guest wanted to visit. It wasn’t anything to write home about.
Ellie was back, looking over my shoulder, staring hard at the stationery. Abruptly she pointed to one spot near the bottom.
‘Look, AJ! You can just make out a name. Can you see it?’ She sounded excited, intense, like she always does whenever something gets her attention.
I squinted, did the whole trombone arm thing folks do when they need bifocals and won’t admit it. There was something there, a very faint outline that might have said ‘Jos’ or maybe ‘Jas’. I couldn’t really tell if there were any other letters, and these made no sense to me at all.
‘I’m not seeing what you’re seeing, Ellie,’ I admitted, handing the paper back. I didn’t need to worry; she’d make sure that I knew what it said. She was predictable that way.
‘Look. Right here. It’s a ‘J’, an ‘O’, and an ‘S’. And I think this could be an ‘A’. Or maybe it’s an ‘E’.’ Ellie did everything except take my chin in her hand and guide my eyes across the paper. Maybe I did see those letters, but it could have just been suggestion. If she said that’s what she saw, though, who was I to argue?
‘What do you think it is? A letter? A list?’ I walked over to the bathroom and dropped my towel on the floor next to Ellie’s. When I got back home, I’d have to learn all over again how to take care of myself. It’s amazing how you can get used to having someone else take care of all the day-to-day things, like cleaning and cooking.
Plus, at the Miramar, someone was taking care of killing.
Ellie stared at me as if I’d just grown a horn in the middle of my forehead, and I almost reached up to see if something was there. Ellie has that effect on me at times.
She held the paper up to the light again, this time moving her finger carefully across the paper.
‘I see it! Absolutely! Yes! AJ, you are a marvel!’ She whirled around and threw her arms around me, then yelped. ‘Ugh, I’m still so sore. But I’m getting better,’ she added hastily as I moved away from her. I’d almost forgotten yesterday’s ugly ordeal. Almost.
I still had no idea what I’d said that was so brilliant, but I trusted Ellie. She’s got great instinct so I waited for her to explain. That, too, is a fairly predictable Ellie reaction: she’s a natural-born teacher.
‘Look,’ she said, moving over to the corner desk and rummaging through the top drawer. Pulling out a pencil, she carefully began to scribble over the paper’s surface. It reminded me of when my mother and her sister, Ellie’s mom, would head out for a day of ‘doing the graves’, as they laughingly called it. They loved finding old and unusual headstones and would produce ‘rubbings’ from them, adding them to the copious bits of paper already in their collections. What Ellie was doing right now looked like the technique they used.
‘Aha!’ Ellie sounded as though she’d made the discovery of the century. I almost expected to hear her sh
out ‘Eureka!’
I crowded close behind her, resting my chin gently on her shoulder. I looked at what she had uncovered, and it did look like a list. A list comprised solely of names.
You know when you have those moments of completely inspired thoughts, the kind that makes you all tingly and almost breathless? That was exactly how I felt in the instant that the light bulb went on: whoever it was that attacked Ellie had not been in here looking for Emmy’s letter. They’d been looking for their list.
Chapter Nineteen
Ellie’s careful rubbing managed to reveal several names: José Ramirez Rascon; Keith McClellan; Richard Olsen; Israel Martinez; Danny Martinez. I couldn’t think what they might mean, but apparently the list was important enough for someone to almost kill Ellie.
‘Is this anything we should call the police about? I mean, I think it’s a lead, but would they?’ I began pacing the room, arms wrapped around my waist and eyes on the ceiling as if the answer would suddenly appear, announced in flashing neon letters and accompanied by a fanfare. I knew Detective Fischer probably thought I was some kind of a nut, and I didn’t want that idea planted anywhere else, i.e. in Detective Baird’s mind.
Thoughts of Detective Baird reminded me that I hadn’t seen him since Emmy’s body had been discovered. I wondered if he’d been reassigned to some other case now the body count had stabilized. After all, we’d managed to downgrade action at the resort to a simple beating.
Wait – the attack on Ellie had been anything but simple. It was vicious and she might have died if we hadn’t gotten to her. I shook my head to loosen the unaccustomed skepticism. That was Ellie’s department. Besides, who could stay pessimistic with a dimpled smile hovering in their head? Not me!
‘Look, AJ. Whether they think it’s important or not, we need to call the police. I think you’re right about what the intruder …’ Here Ellie’s voice shook a bit ‘… was probably looking for. And I think if we tell them that, explain about the list, then they’ll listen. Or at least they’ll pretend to listen.’
Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) Page 11
