Bubble Chum

by Wendy Meadows

  I observe the exchange between them with satisfaction. Sabrina’s finally getting the memo that people in this town understand her and care about her and her business.

  The conversation turns to other matters while I finish the gingerbread houses—or at least get them into a condition where I can leave them for a little while.

  At about two o’clock in the afternoon, I take off my apron and wash my hands and face. Sabrina is still hard at work when Stacy and I leave the Baker’s Dozen and get into Stacy’s car.

  I slam the door and she fires up the heater. We motor through the wintery streets. “Does it seem like there aren’t very many tourists around?” I ask. “What if not very many people come to the Carnival? What if we go to all this trouble and it turns into a dud?”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” she replies. “It’s always like this. Early December goes real quiet and then wham-o! As soon as the Carnival hits, the tourists start coming out of the woodwork. They all land on West End in time for Bonfire at the Beach, and after that, it’s open season until the end of January. The last few years the Police have had to supervise traffic on Main Street because so many tourists crowded the town. We even had community meetings to decide if they should shut down the town to vehicle traffic and make everyone walk because the cars and bikes and stuff were endangering all the pedestrians.”

  “That’s incredible,” I exclaim. “It’s hard to imagine West End getting that busy.”

  “It will happen. You mark my words. It always does. You’re lucky you have Zack and Patty to work your store. If I was you, I would start training them up to prepare for the busier times ahead.”

  “What will they have to do then that’s different from what they do now?” I ask.

  “For a start, you probably want two people working the counter at all times instead of one. One person couldn’t handle all the customers you’re going to get.”

  I study the side of her face. “Are you sure it will get that busy?”

  She nods. “I’m already organizing my extra staff for the holiday period. I suggest you plan accordingly.”

  She drives to the western neighborhood. We put a flyer in every mailbox. Then we do the same thing in the eastern neighborhood.

  Stacy turns the car back toward town, but she doesn’t angle into Main Street. She merges onto the highway. “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “To the Overlook Hotel. Marvin the owner usually lets us pass out flyers there.”

  I say nothing on the trip out to the Overlook. The beach road certainly looks different in the daylight, but I’m not exactly sure if I should go back to the Hotel. That’s David’s special spot—our special spot. Should I go there without him?

  What could be the problem? It’s not like I’m going on a date there with another man. I’m helping Stacy distribute flyers for the Carnival. Hopefully, David will understand. He definitely will. It’s myself I’m not sure about.

  I still haven’t made up my mind what to do when Stacy parks in the parking lot. It’s decision time. Either I can accompany her inside or stay in the car like a fool. I get out, and we breeze into the restaurant where Marvin stands behind a podium.

  He raises his eyebrows at both of us. “Do you ladies have a reservation? I think I would remember seeing you on the guest list for lunch.”

  “We don’t have a reservation, Marvin,” I tell him. “We came to ask you if we can distribute flyers for the Winter Carnival around your Hotel. We wouldn’t dream of intruding without your permission.”

  “But of course!” He puffs out his chest and smooths his pristine white waistcoat down his stomach. “You are welcome to place a stack of flyers on the front desk, and you may put one under each room door, too. You know the routine, Stacy, I trust?”

  “Yes, thank you, Marvin,” Stacy replies. “We really appreciate your generosity.”

  He closes his eyes and bows. “Anything to help West End.”

  We leave the restaurant and Stacy shows me to the Hotel entrance. We find a tall, young man in his twenties behind the front desk. “Ah, Kevin!” Stacy exclaims. “Do you know Margaret Nichols?”

  He gasps. “Not…. the Margaret Nichols? Not the Private Investigator?”

  Before I can reply, Stacy cuts in again. “As big as life, but we’re not here to investigate anything. Marvin told us we could put some Winter Carnival flyers on the desk.”

  “Of course.” Kevin gawks at me. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Nichols. Could I get your autograph?”

  I fidget from one foot to the other.

  “Sure, you can,” Stacy interrupts. “Make it out to Kevin Flue, Margaret.”

  She arranges the flyers on the desk while I scribble my John Hancock on a scrap of paper for the flabbergasted Kevin.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I whisper to her as we walk away.

  “Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s a very nice boy. Now you take these flyers and put them under all the doors in the south wing while I take the north.”

  “Which one’s the south wing?” I ask. “How do you know I won’t get lost in this place?”

  “Just head over that way.” She points behind me. “You can’t get lost. The Hotel isn’t that big, and if you’re not back at the front desk in fifteen minutes, I’ll come and find you.”

  She walks away. I never distributed flyers in a hotel before, so here goes. I slot one sheet under every door. I fall into a rhythm. This is easy. Some of the doors have their Do Not Disturb signs out. I don’t see any guests.

  I work my way to the opposite end of the south wing and begin coming back on the other side. I get halfway down it and bend over to slide a sheet into room 237. My knuckles brush the door and it creaks back.

  I straighten up to pull it closed, but I have to put the flyers back into my left hand to do that. When I finally secure them in a way that they won’t flutter all over the floor, I put out my hand for the doorknob….and freeze.

  A man lies on the bed inside the room. From the threshold, I see his head lolled over the side of the mattress. The skin of his face resembles scoured leather the color of blood. Puffy, blood-filled swelling disfigures his features, and his swollen tongue hangs out of his mouth. His glazed eyes stare at nothing, and one livid hand claws at his shirt collar. The fingers remain hooked under it in desperate futility.

  I stare at him for a second. He’s beyond dead. I can see that without entering the room. I take a moment to consider what to do. Should I call David? What if he finds out I went to the Overlook without him?

  That’s all fiddle-faddle. I’m a grown woman. I can go where I want, and David knows it as well as I do. I yank out my phone and steady my hands to type out a text. There’s a dead body at the Overlook Hotel. It doesn’t look like natural causes to me. Send.

  In a second, a return message comes through. If you found the body, I’d say it almost certainly isn’t natural causes. I’m on my way. Stay put. He ends with a heart emoji. He really knows how to cheer me up.

  6

  I hover in the hall and watch the Forensics Team work over room 237. David mingles among them for a while. After a time, Marvin appears from the restaurant, and the two men talk in low tones.

  Why doesn’t David invite me in to help out? The longer I stand around doing nothing, the more I start to imagine the worst. Is he mad at me for going to the Overlook? Is he upset about something else I did?

  Just then, Stacy strolls up. “Did you pass them all out?” Then she sees what’s going on. “Oh, no.”

  “I’m afraid so,” I murmured. “I put a flyer under the door and it swung open. There he was as big as…..well, as big as death.”

  Her expression clears and she nudges me with her elbow. “I might as well take off, then. You and the Detective will be here working the case for a while, I suppose.”

  Before I can answer, Marvin leaves the room. He walks past us heading downstairs. A few seconds later, David shoulders his way between me and Stacy to follow Marvin.


  I shift from one foot to the other. “It looks like I might be sitting this one out. If you’re leaving, I better go with you.”

  “You can’t sit this one out,” she snaps. “You’re the town investigator. You’re as much a detective as he is.” She waves toward where David disappeared downstairs.

  I shrug. “I’d like to think so, but if he doesn’t want me on the case, there’s not a lot I can do. Just stick around a couple more minutes, Stacy, please, until I figure out what’s going on.”

  “You bet,” she replies. “Just let me know what you want me to do.”

  I ease my way down the corridor. I dread finding out why David is being so standoffish. I come to the landing overlooking the main entrance. About thirty people stand around the foyer downstairs. David moves from one person to the next. He talks to them all, but he keeps his voice low so I can’t make out the words.

  One after another, he finishes with them and they leave until only he, Marvin, and Kevin Flue, the desk clerk, remain. They huddle together all talking in animated whispers.

  If I’m ever going to find out what the dickens is going on, I better do it now. I summon my courage and walk down the stairs. I make sure to stay perfectly calm and composed—on the outside, that is.

  When Marvin sees me coming, he nods to David and leaves. Kevin scuttles behind the desk and pretends I don’t exist. I approach David. “What’s going on? Do you want me to help you investigate?”

  “I’ve got this,” he replies. “You go on home. I’ll get in touch with you later.”

  He starts to turn away. I gape up at him in shock. He did NOT just say that. He did not just dismiss me with a wave of his hand.

  I lunge forward and grab him. “Hey! What’s going on? Why won’t you let me help out with the investigation? You never shut me down like this before.”

  He lowers his voice but it doesn’t soften. His features take on that hard, unyielding character that tells me there’s no budging this man. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you get involved—not yet. I have to preserve the integrity of the investigation. Now, please, go home. When I am able to fill you in, I will.”

  He spins on his heel and marches away. I stand rooted to the spot and blink at his disappearing frame. What just happened? Did he really just shut me out of an investigation?

  My whole world crashes to the ground. Can it really be true that we built our flimsy relationship on the comfort of sharing these cases with each other? Was it all a lie when he said he appreciated discussing his work with someone who understood? Was he just shooting sunshine up my skirt when he said I was a good investigator?

  I stumble sideways in a confused stupor. Stacy appears at my side and grabs my arm. “What was all that about?”

  I can barely get my constricted throat to work. “Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

  She drives me back to town in a daze. I can’t for the life of me figure out what David meant by his comments. I can’t even start to conceptualize this case because I know nothing about it. That’s the worst part. If I could puzzle it out and maybe decipher what happened, I could make sense of it all.

  Stacy pauses at the turn-off to West End. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  “No,” I rasp. “Take me back to the candy store.”

  She parks in front of the Happy-Go-Lucky. I gulp hard. “Thanks for the ride. Sorry it turned out the way it did.”

  She pats my hand. “You let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

  I nod and turn away. I don’t want anybody being nice to me right now. I turn my steps to the candy store, but I veer off to the bakery instead. I get inside and find my unfinished gingerbread houses on the workbench.

  Sabrina’s out front serving customers. I carry the gingerbread houses back to the candy store and set them up on a table in the storeroom. I take one to the front counter to work on it there.

  Zack’s eyes snap open when he sees me. “You’re supposed to be having the day off.”

  “I need to drown my troubles in work. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Patty Matthews comes in from sweeping the back steps. “Ah, Margaret. That is one mansion of a gingerbread house.”

  “Mom’s sulking about something,” Zack informs her. “She’s here to hide from life.”

  I glare at him. “I’m not sulking, Zachary, and I am NOT hiding from life, so I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, young man. I couldn’t hide from life if I wanted to.”

  “Then what’s the trouble you want to drown in work?” he asks. “By all means, share it with the rest of the class.”

  “I found another dead body,” I tell him. “Some tourist turned up dead at the Overlook Hotel, and I found the body. I’ve been up there for the last hour.”

  “That should be right up your alley,” he remarks. “You’re never happier than when you’re chasing some murder. Now you and Detective Graham can un-puzzle the whole thing together. Congratulations.”

  “That’s just the thing. I don’t think David wants me working on it.”

  He looks up at me, and his eyebrows quiver. “What do you mean? You two always work together on these cases.”

  “Up until today, I would have said you were right, but this is different. I’d like nothing better than to work on the case, but he doesn’t seem to want me to. He didn’t invite me to look over the crime scene with him, and he sent me home without telling me anything about what was going on. He completely shut me out.”

  “That’s not like him at all,” Zack mutters. “I wonder why he did it.”

  “I don’t know.” I turn back to the gingerbread house and start sticking candies onto it. I glue them in place with icing. “Either way, I have enough to do without a murder case gumming up the works. I have a lot to do to get ready for the Winter Carnival.”

  Patty waves her index finger around the store. “Are you going to be here for a while, Margaret? If you are, I’ll take off. I have things to do at home.”

  “Sure, you go ahead, Patty. I’ll help Zack.” She heads for the door when I call her back. “Oh, by the way, everybody says traffic will pick up around here during the holidays. Stacy recommends we put two people on every shift instead of one, so in the next week, the three of us need to figure out which of us will be working when.”

  “She’s right,” Patty agrees. “Good plan.”

  She leaves me and Zack alone, and I concentrate on my gingerbread house to try to forget everything that happened at the Hotel. Zack doesn’t say anything to disturb my focus and I almost succeed in shrugging the whole incident off when David shows up.

  He lets himself into the candy store the way he usually does. He stops in front of my gingerbread house and watches me stick the candies into place. “Are you going to have a little miniature Hansel and Gretel in the front yard nibbling the peppermints?”

  I bite back a grin. “I didn’t plan on it. What’s up?”

  He glances back and forth between me and Zack. “I need to talk to you for a second, Margaret—in private.”

  “Okay. Sure.” I wipe the frosting off my hands and lead him into my office. I leave the door open out of habit, but he closes it behind me. When he faces me, I cringe at the look on his face. “What’s this all about?”

  “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Is this about the case?” I ask.

  He holds up his hand. “I said I need to ask you a few questions. Save your own questions for another time. This is important.”

  “Okay. Fire away.”

  “I need to know where you were last night,” he tells me.

  I gape at him. Then I burst out laughing. “Is this a trick question? You know where I was last night.”

  He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even fight back a smile. His brows knit in black, smoldering ferocity. “Just answer the question. Where were you last night?”

  I give a nervous laugh, but this situation grates on my nerves. How can he ask that, after everything that happened? “I wa
s with you, you big dope. I was on a date with you at the Overlook Hotel, or have you forgotten that already?”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” he booms. “I mean after that. Where were you after our date?”

  “I was at home.” My voice quavers. I want to cry, but I fight to hold it all together. I can’t let him see how much this upsets me. “I was home all night after you dropped me off.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  I throw up my hands in mock exasperation. “This is crazy. I don’t have to play these stupid games.”

  I make a bid for the door, but he straightens one arm in front of me to block my way. His expression menaces me with that looming threat that tells me not to mess with him. “Stop right there. Can anyone corroborate that you were home all night after I dropped you off?”

  I open my mouth to make some excuse, but at that moment, my mind flits back to last night. He dropped me off at nine-thirty at night. Zack wasn’t home. He was spending the night with Gilly. I was all by myself until I went to work this morning.

  I let out a heavy sigh. “No. No one can corroborate that I was home all night. I was alone the whole time.” David turns away. “What’s this all about? Is this about the case at the Overlook?”

  “I can’t tell you that yet. I’m sorry. I have to do a little more legwork. Then hopefully I’ll be able to tell you.”

  “If it is about the case,” I offer, “why not let me help you? I thought you liked sharing your cases with me.”

  I say it hoping I’ll get at least some human reaction out of him—maybe an easing of the strain around his eyes or mouth—anything to throw me a lifeline. Instead, he stiffens against me even more—if that’s possible. “I do enjoy sharing cases with you, but I can’t share this one with you. I’m sorry. I have to go.” He opens the office door. “Oh, by the way, have you been back home to your house since you left the Hotel?”

  “No, I came straight here. Why?”

  “I need to search your house,” he tells me. “I need to send the Forensics Team over there, and I need to tell them if you’ve been there since the body was found.”