“It’s worth looking into,” he said. “Go check out the hotel and show Melanie’s picture to an employee. See if someone can ID her.”
“What are the chances that Melanie and Gregory’s best friend were having an affair?”
“Pretty good,” he said. “And if they were, I’m wondering if Gregory knew about it.”
* * *
The Channing Hotel was a ten story boutique hotel located a block from Harvard Square. There was valet parking, but I opted for a parking garage a few blocks away. As I approached the hotel, I noticed a bellhop leaning against the outer building smoking a cigarette. Not much going on, apparently. I imagined there was a lull in the action from 11:00 (checkout time) and 3:00 (check in time). Since it was almost noon, I figured my timing was perfect.
I casually walked into the hotel lobby and looked around. Small but elegant. No guests in sight. The reception counter was to the left. To the right were elevators and a small waiting area with a few couches. On the far end of the lobby was the bar. No bartender in sight, either.
The concierge behind the counter was probably in his fifties with thinning, grey hair. He had a phone to his ear, a serious, tight-lipped expression on his face, like he was listening to a whiny customer.
I decided to go back outside and approached the bellboy, who appeared to be eighteen or nineteen years old. “Hello,” I said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your break but may I ask you a question?”
He stubbed out his cigarette, straightened his posture, and smiled at me. “Sure, how can I help you?”
I showed him my cell phone, with a picture of Melanie that I’d downloaded from the Amazon website. “Is she a guest of the hotel?”
He appraised the photo with interest. “I see hundreds of people a week but, yeah, she looks familiar. I think she usually has blonde hair, though.”
“Blonde?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t know her name.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“Come to think of it, she hasn’t been around in awhile. A few months at least.”
That’s because she’s dead, I thought.
Maybe Melanie had worn a wig. Made sense if she was sleeping with her husband’s best friend. Incognito was a smart idea.
“Who is she?” the kid asked.
He obviously hadn’t watched the news or read the paper, and probably had no idea that Melanie was a bestselling author and sex expert. I decided to ignore his question. “Did you ever see her here with a man?”
The kid shook his head. “Don’t think so. She was always alone. Never had any suitcases. Come to think of it, she never stayed long, either.”
“Room number?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I have no idea.”
“Do you know a guest by the name of Charlie Cox?” I reached into my bag and showed him the photo.
The kid looked at it. “Sure, I’ve seen him before. He comes here a lot.”
“But you’ve never seen the two together?”
“No, sorry.”
“Thanks a million,” I said, handing him a twenty-dollar bill. “Here’s a tip.”
He looked down and grinned. “Wow, thank you.”
Chapter 18
After leaving the Channing Hotel, I sat in my car, thinking.
I almost called Candice with the news about Charlie and her mother, but I still didn’t have hard proof of an affair.
This made me think of Gregory. He was the one who initially suspected his wife of having an affair, but did he have any clue it was with his best friend?
I sat there and wondered; how had Melanie and Charlie communicated? There were no e-mails on her laptop. No suspicious calls on her phone. If Melanie had used a burner phone, it hadn’t been found, unless the person who gave her the poisoned joint took it on the night she died.
It was almost 4:30 pm by the time I got back to Bridgeport. I spent the next hour cleaning my apartment and anticipating a night out with my son.
Brian showed up at 5:30 and I gave him the longest hug. I noticed he’d gained a little weight around the midsection. He was no longer my scrawny teenager. He was becoming a full-fledged man.
“Jeesh,” I said, squeezing his face in my hands. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in years.”
“It’s only been two months,” he said, smiling with his goofy grin. “I’ve been busy, you know.”
“Busy eating out at fast food joints,” I teased. “Please tell me you have a vegetable once in a while.”
“Sure,” he said. “I always have ketchup with my French fries.”
“Very funny. Maybe instead of pizza tonight, we should go to the salad bar.”
Brian made a face. “Salad? That’s boring.”
“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. We’ll get pizza, but instead of pepperoni, we’ll get veggie. Is that a fair deal?”
He sighed. “Sure, whatever.”
We drove to Flat Dough Pizza in downtown, Bridgeport and ordered the “healthy” pizza.
“Hey, by the way,” I said, smiling at him across the table. “Thanks for referring me to your friend Candice.”
He seemed intrigued. “So she actually hired you?”
“Yeah, I’ve been working on her case for the past few days. How’d you meet her?”
“We had a class together last semester. She seems pretty cool. Sad what happened to her mom, though. I read about it online. Was she really poisoned from smoking a joint?”
I nodded. “The dealer who sold her the joint is in prison. But Candice thinks there’s more to the story.”
Brian perked up. “Really? Like a conspiracy theory?”
“I shouldn’t talk about it. Even though you’re friendly with Candice, I’m not sure she’d want me to share the details.”
“That’s okay.”
“Enough about work,” I said. “I want you to tell me about college.”
He took a sip of his ginger ale and shrugged. “It’s fine. I like my classes.”
So typical, his generic answers for everything. Getting details from Brian was like pulling teeth.
“Are you dating anyone?” I asked.
“Not really. I mean, there’s a girl in one of my classes, she’s pretty cool. I haven’t actually asked her out yet.”
“What’s holding you back?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s smart. Dean’s list all the way. And she’s funny.”
“Smart is good,” I said. “Funny is even better.”
The pizza showed up, and the conversation ended. We devoured the large veggie pizza in ten minutes.
Finally, I decided to tell Brian the big news. “So, it looks like I’m moving to San Francisco.”
Brian laughed. “Good one, mom.”
“No, I’m serious. Max got a job and he wants me to move there with him.”
Brian just blinked at me. “When?”
“September.”
“That’s only a few months,” he said. “What about the lease on your apartment?”
“I’ll figure it out. Should be plenty of time for my landlord to find someone to take it over.”
Brian’s shoulders slumped. “Wow. I guess I thought you’d never leave Bridgeport.”
“Are you upset?”
He remained quiet for a few, long seconds. “I mean, it’s your life. You can do whatever you want.”
“I know that,” I said.
“I’ll miss you.”
Those three little words warmed my heart. I reached across the table and held his hand. “I’ll miss you, too, sweetheart.”
He looked up at me and tried to smile. “You better buy me a round-trip airplane ticket to California for Christmas.”
“You bet I will,” I said. “As long as I can find some jobs when I get out there. It might take me a while to get my PI license in a different state.”
“How does Carter feel about you moving away? He must be bummed.”
I chuckled. “You know how Carter is. He does
n’t seem to care either way.”
Brian leaned back and laughed at me.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You have no idea, do you?”
I crossed arms over my chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Carter might play it cool, but he’s got a thing for you. Everyone can tell.”
“Everyone?” I shook my head. “That’s ridiculous. He’s my partner. And he’s never even hinted at wanting anything more.”
“That’s because he’s a decent guy. He’s not going to hit on you because he knows you’re with Max.”
I hadn’t really thought of that. “Even if you’re right—which you are not— a romantic relationship with Carter would never work out.”
“Whatever, mom.”
“Let’s talk about something else. Have you heard from your dad?”
He gave me a look of incredulity. “You’d rather talk about dad than Carter? Wow, I never thought I’d see the day.”
I lightly slapped his arm. “Where did you learn to be such a smart ass?”
“I learned from the best smart ass of them all,” he said with a wink.
“Touché.”
Brian dropped me off at my apartment around 9:00pm. I gave him another long hug and we made plans to get together soon. He even promised to help me pack when the time came to move.
As soon as he left, my cell phone chimed. It was Carter. He got right down to business.
“How’d it go today at the hotel?” he asked.
“The bellboy was very helpful. I showed him a photo of Melanie, but he said she had blonde hair. Must have been a wig. Thing is, he never saw her and Charlie together.”
“No big surprise. They were just being careful. Are you still planning to see him when he comes to Boston tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“Not necessary,” I said. “I can handle it. Besides, maybe you can keep an eye on Gregory. Find out who his girlfriend is.”
“I can do that,” he said. “Let’s touch base tomorrow.”
I thought about telling him that I’d made a decision to move, but the timing didn’t seem right. “Sure. Goodnight.”
And that was that.
Chapter 19
Thursday, June 25
The next morning around 8:00, I heard my phone chirping as I got out of the shower. I wrapped the towel around me and answered the call.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Sarah Woods?” It was a woman’s voice.
“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”
“My name is Libby Lenore. You left a message for me yesterday.”
The name sounded familiar and then it came to me. “Yes. You’re Melanie’s massage therapist. Thanks for calling me back.” I sat down and reached for my notebook and pen.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I’ve been staying with my dad in Vermont after his hip replacement. He’s almost eighty, and he doesn’t get around too well.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I said. “How long will you be in Vermont?”
“One more day. I’m heading back to Boston tomorrow. So you mentioned on the voicemail that you’re a private detective? What can I help you with?”
“Melanie was a massage client of yours for many years, right?”
“She was one of my best clients.”
“I used to be a massage therapist, too” I said. “So I understand how special that relationship can be. There’s a lot of trust between a client and a massage therapist.”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s true.”
“I know you don’t want to betray a client’s confidence but, in the circumstances, perhaps you can help me out. Did she ever talk about her personal life?”
“Sometimes.”
“What would she talk about?”
“Family, work, stuff like that. She needed to get things off her chest and she knew she could trust me.”
“Did she mention having marital problems?” I asked.
“She complained about her husband from time to time. Trivial stuff. Nothing serious.”
“Did she ever tell you about her affair?”
A long pause. “Affair? I don’t think so. No, she never said anything about it.”
I wondered if she was lying to protect Melanie’s reputation. I decided to move right along. “Did Melanie mention having problems with anyone besides her husband?”
“No,” she said. “Just that drug dealer who killed her.”
“Wait,” I said, my pulse quickening. “Are you talking about Jasmine Thompson?”
“Yeah. She’s the one in prison for poisoning Melanie with that joint, right?”
“Yes. But I wasn’t aware that Melanie had any problems with her.”
“Melanie told me that Jasmine asked her for money. A loan, I guess. She needed fifty grand because her husband was a candidate for this new cancer treatment.”
“And Melanie refused to help her out?”
“Melanie felt awful, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have the cash to give her.”
“Really? I was under the impression that Melanie did very well with her books.”
“Melanie always complained that her husband spent every penny she made. I mean, they had nice houses and nice cars, but no cash in the bank. Melanie even wondered how she was going to continue paying her daughter’s college tuition.”
“Do you remember approximately when Jasmine asked for the loan?”
“I don’t really remember. If I had to guess, probably a few weeks before she killed her.”
My heart sank to my stomach. It appeared as though Jasmine Thompson did have motive to kill Melanie. Not a strong motive, but it was enough.
“Are you there?” Libby asked.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m a bit stunned by this. I talked to Jasmine at the prison yesterday, and she never mentioned anything about asking Melanie for a loan.”
“What did you expect,” she said. “She’s a drug dealer. You can’t trust people like that.”
“I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Not anymore.”
“Sorry to cut this short, but I need to help my dad with something. If you want to talk more when I’m back in town, I’d be happy to.”
“I understand. “I’ll be in touch. Thanks for talking to me.”
Chapter 20
When I got off the phone with Melanie’s massage therapist, I felt utterly deflated. Jasmine had conveniently neglected to tell me about asking Melanie for a loan. Jasmine had probably assumed, as had I, that Melanie had plenty of money in the bank. I could imagine that Jasmine felt enraged when Melanie told her she couldn’t help. After all, a person’s life was at stake. If Raul couldn’t afford to have the new treatment, his chances of survival were slim. But would Jasmine really plot Melanie’s death because she refused to help? I had no idea. People do horrible things out of desperation.
I decided to go back and talk to Raul.
When I arrived at his apartment and knocked on the door, Derek seemed surprised to see me.
“Hello, Derek,” I said, trying to keep my voice even and calm. “Is Raul here?”
He invited me in. “He’s in his room. Let me get him for you.”
A few moments later, Raul appeared wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants. His skin was pale and he looked exhausted as he rubbed his eyes.
“Hope this is a good time,” I said. “How are you feeling today?”
“A little better, thanks. How’s the investigation going?”
“I have a few more questions if you’re feeling up to it.”
Derek headed to the door “I’m going to get some groceries. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Raul looked up at him. “Thanks, bro. Do you mind getting some more of that ice cream. My stomach can’t handle anything else, yet.”
“Sure,” he said, and went out the back door without another word.
“So.” Raul turned his atten
tion to me. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Did Jasmine ever tell you that she asked Melanie for a loan?”
He blinked at me. “What are you talking about?”
“She never told you?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “How do you know this?”
“This morning I talked to Melanie’s massage therapist. Apparently Melanie confided many things to this woman. It happens a lot with massage therapists. I know, because I used to be one. Anyway, a few weeks before Melanie died, Jasmine asked her for a loan, but she refused her.”
Raul scratched his head and squinted at me. “This is the first time I’ve heard about this. I swear.”
“Well, I hate to say it, but this new information does not bode well for Jasmine.”
He glared at me. “What do you mean? Are you saying Jasmine killed Melanie because she wouldn’t lend her money?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“Jasmine was under a lot of stress. Time is running out. She gets desperate and asks the only person she knows with money to help her and then, that person tells her no, sorry, can’t help you. Can you imagine the frustration? The resentment and anger?”
Raul just sat there and shook his head. “I’ve known my wife since we were in high school. She would never intentionally hurt anyone. I’d swear my life on it.”
I wanted to believe him. I truly did. Because the thought that I’d been duped by Jasmine didn’t sit well with me.
“So that’s it?” Raul said, throwing his hands up. “You’ve made up your mind? Jasmine is guilty and that’s that?”
“No,” I said. “I haven’t made up my mind. There are a few other leads we’re working on.”
“Like who?”
“Melanie’s husband. He’s still number one on my list. But if he’s involved then he’s covered his tracks well. So far, we can’t connect him to the murder.”
Raul sighed heavily as he collapsed into a chair. “This whole thing is a complete nightmare. It’s all my fault.”
A Weapon of Choice Page 8
