Handbags & Homicide

by Anne Marie Stoddard

  After two hours, Jamie knocked on the door of our room. Though she was an hour earlier than expected, having convinced Aunt Rikki to let her leave work ahead of schedule, I was already dressed and ready to go look for Andrew Ryan. I shared my suspicions with her as we made our way to the main lobby.

  "And a new name enters the suspect pool," she said wearily. "That makes three people who potentially wanted Valentina dead." Her brow furrowed. "It does seem awfully suspicious that this Ryan guy was just outside the spa right after you were trapped," she agreed, frowning. "But if there wasn't a room key in his wallet, how are we going to track him down?"

  "Just follow my lead," I told her, crossing the crowded lobby toward the front desk. I was relieved to see that Summer wasn't working that afternoon. I didn't want her to think I was making a habit of asking for guests' room numbers. In her place sat a plump girl with a childlike face framed by bushy black hair. "Hi," I said warmly, smiling at her. I glanced at her name tag. "I don't believe I've seen you here before, Kara. Are you new?"

  The girl gave me a timid smile. "It's my second day. Summer's been training me, but I'm on my own this afternoon."

  Perfect. I felt my smile widen. "Cool. Welcome to the resort." I held out my hand. "I'm Kaley, and this is Jamie. We work at the Happy Hula Dress Boutique out in the courtyard." I glanced at the computer. "Has Summer taught you how to look up a guest's room number yet?" I asked, my tone polite. "We're trying to find a friend of ours who's visiting from the mainland. Would you mind looking up the room number for an Andrew Ryan?"

  Kara's forehead wrinkled. "I don't think I'm supposed to give out that kind of information," she said, glancing nervously around the lobby as if looking for someone to back her up.

  "Don't worry. It's fine," I assured her. I held up the man's wallet. "We just had lunch with Andy at the Loco Moco a little while ago," I lied, hiking my thumb over my shoulder toward the café entrance. "He left his wallet at the table. I tried calling, but his phone is turned off. We were just hoping to run it up to him. I'd hate for him to think it's been lost or stolen."

  "Typical Andy," Jamie chimed in, chuckling. "He'd lose his head if it wasn't screwed on." She smiled pleasantly at the young woman.

  Kara chewed her lip, glancing from Jamie to me. Finally, she placed her hands on the keyboard in front of her. "What did you say his last name was?" she asked.

  "Ryan," Jamie piped up, grinning at me when the young woman wasn't looking. "Andrew Ryan."

  The girl's fingers clacked over a few keys, and then she scanned the screen. "Mr. Ryan is staying in room 313." She pointed across the lobby to the elevators. "Head up to the third floor and take a left."

  "Thank you so much, Kara. You're the best."

  "Yeah. I'm sure Andy will appreciate it," Jamie added.

  I gave the girl one last smile before motioning for Jamie to follow me to the elevators. We made our way up to the third floor, stopping short just a few rooms down from where Andrew Ryan was staying. His door was open, and a housekeeping cart was sticking halfway out into the hall. The sound of a vacuum could be heard coming from inside.

  My shoulders slumped. "Just our luck," I muttered to Jamie. "I guess we'll have to come back later. At least we know his room number now." I started to turn back toward the elevators, but Jamie grabbed my arm.

  "Are you kidding?" she asked, her voice low. There was a glint of mischief in her aquamarine eyes. "It's actually a good thing he's not in there right now. That means we have time to do a little snooping before we talk to him. We can check for anything suspicious."

  "Like what?" I asked. "A murder weapon?"

  She shrugged. "Who knows what we might find?"

  I frowned. "I don't think that housekeeping is going to take too kindly to us barging in and digging through his stuff."

  She winked. "The maid won't even know what's happening. I've got a plan." Jamie filled me in on her idea, which I had to admit wasn't too shabby. When the whirring sound of the vacuum ceased a few moments later, I moved quickly past the door to room 313 and leaned against the wall just outside it, waiting. The supply cart rolled out into the hall, followed by a middle-aged Polynesian woman with graying hair. Before she could glance in my direction, Jamie walked up to her from the other end of the hall, waving to get her attention.

  "Excuse me, ma'am," she said, coming to a stop next to the cart filled with shampoo, conditioner, and other toiletries. She made a show of rolling her eyes. "My boyfriend used all the conditioner, and I need to wash this ratty mop of mine." She gestured to her short blonde hair, which looked anything but ratty. "Could I trouble you for a few more bottles?"

  I didn't wait to hear the woman's response. While the housekeeper's back was turned, I slipped through the open door into Andrew Ryan's room, quickly ducking around the corner. Seconds later, the door clicked shut. I tiptoed back over to it and leaned forward, listening to Jamie's muffled words on the other side. Her voice moved farther away as she walked down the hall with the woman. When I was sure that I was alone, I turned and surveyed my surroundings.

  The curtains were pulled back, letting natural light illuminate the room. The housekeeper had made the bed and had placed fresh towels on the corner of the comforter, along with a couple of mints wrapped in green aluminum foil. A pile of rumpled clothes sat on the bedside table. I figured the woman had probably picked them up off the floor so she could vacuum.

  I cautiously moved through the room, staying as silent as possible so I could hear if anyone approached from outside in the hall. Andrew's black vinyl suitcase was on the desk. I unzipped it and opened each flap and pocket, unsure exactly what I was looking for. A bludgeoning weapon of some sort? A lock of Valentina's hair? A signed confession? Instead, all I found were several pairs of swim trunks, some white undershirts, a bottle of suntan lotion, and an old Dean Koontz novel. Nothing that screamed I'm a psycho stalker.

  I dropped down to my knees and peeked under the bed, but nothing was there, either. A cursory search of the bathroom also proved fruitless. I was on the brink of giving up and heading back into the hallway when my phone began to buzz. Jamie's name flashed across the screen.

  "This search is a bust," I said as soon as I placed the phone to my ear. "There's nothing in—"

  "Get out now!" she exclaimed in a shrill whisper. "I'm downstairs in the lobby, and Andrew just got on an elevator. He had his room key in his hand. I think he's headed your way."

  Adrenaline zipped through me. "Thanks," I whispered back. "I'll meet you downstairs." I scrambled out of the bathroom and started for the door that led back into the hall. Just as I reached for the handle, I heard footsteps approaching. A man cleared his throat, and the scratching sound of the plastic room key card touching the wood sent my pulse into overdrive. I jerked back around, searching frantically for a place to hide. The closet door was several feet away. The little key card sensor beeped as I lunged for the closet and slipped inside, pulling the door closed as quietly as I could. A fraction of a second later, I heard Andrew Ryan step into the room.

  I was trapped.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Andrew whistled the theme from Hawaii Five-0 as he ambled into the room, walking slowly past my hiding place. My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears that I was pretty sure it could be heard all the way from the elevators. I held my breath until I thought my lungs would burst, waiting for the man who might have murdered Valentina Cruz to fling the closet door open and discover me.

  Instead, the mattress springs squeaked, and I heard twin thuds as two objects hit the floor. I pictured the man resting his portly frame onto the bed and kicking off his shoes. It sounded as if he was settling in for a while. I could be trapped in this closet for hours, assuming he didn't eventually find me.

  Still holding my breath, I was beginning to see stars when I heard the television turn on. My exhale and subsequent gasp for more oxygen were drowned out by the sounds of a game show theme song. At least, I hoped they were. I waited for my breathing to retu
rn to normal and then sent a text to Jamie.

  I'm hiding in the closet. I don't think I can sneak out without him noticing.

  Since it seemed I wasn't going anywhere in the near future, I turned on the flashlight app on my phone to get a better look at my surroundings. A shabby gray sport coat hung from one of the hangers, alongside a pair of equally rumpled pants and a white dress shirt with a coffee stain down the front. A pair of men's dress shoes and two pairs of flip-flops lay at my feet. Just below the pull-down ironing board, I noticed a black leather briefcase.

  I carefully sank into a seated position on the closet floor, pulling my knees close to my chest to fit in the cramped space. As quietly as I could, I reached for the briefcase, slowly undoing the outside clasp. Inside the case were a small laptop and several manila file folders.

  I pulled out the first folder and flipped it open, feeling the hairs prickle on the back of my neck. It contained a stack of printed photos, all of which featured Valentina. There were pictures of the young woman climbing into her car in a dark parking deck and some of her walking through what I recognized as Phipps Plaza in Buckhead, her arms laden with shopping bags. There were even a few photos of Val with Bryan. Their backs were facing the camera as they walked toward the ground floor entrance to the building that housed the condo I'd previously shared with my ex-hubby.

  Busted, I thought, flipping through the rest of the folder and taking in the dozens of photos the creepy man had snapped. Freddy had been right. Andrew Ryan had definitely been stalking Valentina.

  My phone vibrated in my hand, causing me to jump. It slipped from my fingers and landed on the floor beside me with a hard thud. Outside the closet, the TV clicked off. My heart leapt to my throat as the mattress creaked again. I heard Andrew's feet hit the floor and begin padding closer to my hiding spot. It looked like I was about to be busted, too.

  I nearly wilted with relief when, at the last moment, the man's footsteps veered in the direction of the bathroom. The door closed behind him, and after a few moments, the sound of running water reached my ears. He was taking a shower. Now's my chance, I thought, scooping up my fallen phone. I started to slip the folders containing the man's pictures of Valentina back into the bag but hesitated. Pulling up my phone's camera, I snapped a few photos of my own, making copies of his images that I could show Detective Ray. Though I was pretty sure I'd wind up in hot water if I stole the evidence, maybe showing him my digital copies of the pics would be enough to convince him to redirect his investigation toward Andrew Ryan.

  I dropped my phone back into my pocket and returned the folder to the briefcase. Then I opened the closet door just a crack. I cautiously poked my head out to make absolutely sure the coast was clear. The afternoon sunlight spilled into the empty room, and the sound of the running shower filtered out from the bathroom. I climbed out of the closet and dashed toward the door, flinging it open. As I burst into the hallway, I collided with a wall of solid muscle. I skittered back a step and gaped up into the face of a very panicked-looking Noa.

  "Are you all right?" he demanded, pulling me out of the doorway. He frantically looked me over. "Did he try to hurt you? Where is he?" He shot a glance over my shoulder toward Andrew's room, his eyes blazing.

  I eased out of Noa's grasp. "I'm fine. And no, he didn't hurt me—he never even saw me. I was hiding in the closet." I dropped my gaze to the carpet, feeling sheepish. When I looked up again, his expression had darkened.

  "What were you thinking, Kales?" His jaw clenched. "What if you'd been caught?"

  My face felt hot. "What are you even doing here? And how did you know where I was?" I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer. My suspicion was confirmed a moment later when the elevator dinged at the end of the hall. The double doors opened, and Jamie emerged. She took one look at Noa and me, and her expression turned guilty. She did an about-face and marched right back into the elevator, shooting me an apologetic look as the doors closed again.

  Thanks a lot, I thought darkly.

  "I brought my laptop over to the Loco Moco to get some work done out on the patio," Noa said, his expression still hard. "And it's a good thing I did, considering your knack for getting into trouble."

  "Look, I'm sorry," I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the hall, putting distance between us and the stalker's room. "Just save the lecture for after we get out of here."

  Thankfully, Noa didn't argue. He let me lead him toward the elevators, and we waited in sulky silence until the one Jamie had just taken downstairs returned to our floor. When the doors reopened, we stepped inside to join a middle-aged couple. They climbed off on the second floor, and as soon as the doors closed again, Noa rounded on me. His face was tight with anger.

  "You should have told me what you were doing," he said. "I shouldn't have to find out from Jamie that you're trapped in an alleged murderer's hotel room." His expression twisted to a look of pain. "If you got hurt, Kaley, I don't know what I would do."

  My own anger bubbled to the surface. "Oh, so now you care," I snapped, feeling my frustration boil over.

  Noa looked as if I'd slapped him. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, his voice sounding hurt. "What have I ever done to make you think I don't care about you?"

  "It's obvious that you don't want to go to Atlanta and be my date to Emma's wedding," I said sourly. "Though, you'll probably be happy to know that you were right about the police not letting us leave the island—Detective Ray is holding the wedding party here until Valentina's killer is caught. Emma and Dante have decided to get married right here on the island since they're going to miss their ceremony in Georgia, but you know what?" I placed my hands on my hips. "I think I'll just go stag."

  Noa opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't wait to hear his response. The elevator stopped on the first floor, and the doors opened, filling the small space with the sounds of the busy lobby. Tears stinging my eyes, I turned away from Noa and marched off.

  "Kaley, wait," he called, but I pushed my way through the crowd of guests, putting distance between us.

  I walked briskly toward the women's restroom at the edge of the lobby and ducked inside. Guilt soured my stomach as soon as I closed the door behind me. I shouldn't have snapped at him like that, I thought, unable to look my reflection in the eye as I leaned against the counter. I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed at my eyes. Noa was right—I shouldn't have put myself in a potentially dangerous situation without telling him. If our roles had been reversed, I'd have been just as furious with him as he was with me now.

  It's because he cares about me, I scolded myself. I thought back to his strange reluctance when I'd first invited him to be my date to Emma's wedding. I'd gone from worrying that he was thinking we were moving too fast to suddenly pushing him away. Real smooth, Kaley. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I owed Noa an apology and an explanation for my beyond crummy behavior.

  I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, doing my best to compose myself. Then I stepped back out into the hall to find Noa. I retraced my steps and scanned the large atrium but couldn't spot him among the crowd. Sighing, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number, making my way to the courtyard to search for him there. My heart sank as my call was sent straight to voice mail. "Noa, it's Kaley," I said, hearing the quiver in my voice. "Listen, I screwed up. I'm sorry." I hesitated for a moment, feeling more emotional words gather behind my teeth. I stuffed them back down. "Please just call me," I said finally before hanging up.

  Shoulders slumped, I shuffled back inside, heading in the direction of my room. Hope bloomed in my chest as my phone began to ring. I pressed it to my ear without even looking at the Caller ID. "Noa, I'm so glad you called me back," I said breathlessly.

  "Hello, Ms. Kalua." Detective Ray's voice filled my ear. "I received your message. You said you found something that might aid in my investigation into the murder of Miss Cruz?" There was a question in his tone.

  My thoughts snapped to Val's purse, s
till hidden in the drawer of the bedside table in my room. "Yes," I said, perking up. "As a matter of fact, I did. Are you free to meet me at the resort? Or maybe I can get a ride over to the station."

  "I'm nearby," he replied in his deep voice. "I can be there in fifteen minutes."

  Perfect. I gave Detective Ray the number for Emma's and my room and hurried down the hall. My guilt over my spat with Noa was temporarily forgotten, replaced by excitement. Between turning over Val's purse and showing Ray the creepy photos taken by her stalker, surely he'd see that I didn't belong on his suspect list.

  "Emma," I called as I stepped inside the room. "Are you here?" Silence was the only answer. I flipped on the light and felt my body go numb with shock.

  It looked as if a tornado had touched down in our suite. Both Emma's and my suitcases were flipped upside down. Our clothes were strewn about the floor. Each of the comforters lay in crumpled heaps at the foot of the beds, and the flower arrangement I'd ordered for Em had been knocked over, the water from the vase dribbling down one leg of the coffee table and seeping into the carpet.

  A gentle breeze wafted toward me, drawing my attention to the double doors that led to the private lanai. One of the sliding glass panes was ajar, and the curtains billowed as another draft blew in. In a haze of confusion and fear, I took a shaky step further into the room. Someone had trashed the place, but why? What were they looking for?

  The answer struck me like a bolt of lightning, and my gaze flew to the little dresser beside my bed. The bottom drawer was open just a crack. Please no, I thought, rushing over to it. I dropped to my knees and yanked the drawer all the way open, feeling the breath leave my lungs as I stared down at the empty chamber.