Murder Motel

by Nic Saint

  Vernon came hurrying up. “They’re coming!” he was saying. “Chief Boelk will be here in less than an hour. The storm has blown itself out and the weather is improving fast.”

  “Well, that’s good news at least,” said Dad. Mom had also joined them, and Scott, and they were all staring at Christy, the most likely suspect.

  “Maybe we should lock her up,” Jim suggested, gesturing to Christy. “She’s the guilty one, isn’t she?”

  Vernon nodded. “Looks like. Chief Boelk agrees. And so does Professor Tom, and he’s the expert.”

  Jim quirked an eyebrow at Dad, who had the decency to blush.

  “Before you lead her away,” said Maya, stepping forward, “there’s something you all need to know.”

  She felt a little dizzy, speaking up in front of all of these people, but she knew she had to, before a gross injustice was done.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” asked Mom.

  “I need to say this, Mom,” said Maya, and took the brooch from her pocket.

  All attention snapped to the trinket. “Chef Kwiek gave this to me just now. He said he found it on Donny’s body.” She turned to the chef, who was scowling as usual. “Where did you find this, exactly, chef?”

  “Does it matter?” he gruffly asked.

  “Yes, it does. It matters a great deal.”

  “In the dead man’s right hand.”

  “You took this out of the dead man’s hand?” Vernon cried. “Are you crazy?”

  “I offered it to you but you told me to give it to a woman,” Kwiek snapped. “So I did.”

  “He gave it to me,” said Maya. “There’s an inscription on the back.” She turned the brooch. “‘D-To loves Pookie.’ It didn’t ring a bell at first, not until I remembered something I read on TMZ not so long ago.” She smiled at her brother. “You were right, Scott. I love that site.” She took out her phone. “It’s an article about Donny and his new girlfriend Tracy Hall. Some pap got a shot of Donny leaving a tattoo parlor in Manhattan. And a closeup of the tattoo in question, located on his hand, right between his thumb and his index finger. It’s a little heart with the words, ‘D-To loves Pookie,’ D-To being Donny Towns and Pookie being…” She turned to Tracy, who was staring daggers at her. “Tracy Hall.”

  All eyes turned to Tracy, who stood tapping an annoyed foot, her arms folded across her chest. “So what? Donny had a brooch in his hand he was going to give to me. A present.”

  “I think he gave you that brooch a long time ago,” said Maya, now feeling like a regular Miss Marple giving her final little speech. “And you wore it proudly. The only reason it would be in his hand would be if he grabbed it off you as he was falling from the window after you stabbed him to death.”

  Gasps of shock now rang out all around her, but Maya was going well and not about to stop. Tracy was still looking smug, though. “You’re talking out of your tush, sister. We all know Christy killed Donny. She couldn’t stand it that he left her for me.” She spread her arms. “I mean—why would I kill my fiancé? I loved him. We were getting married next week.”

  “I think Donny was having second thoughts,” said Maya.

  “Oh, please,” said Tracy. “That man adored me. Everybody knows that.”

  “You said you and your father were invited here by Donny so you could meet Christy and her baby and settle this feud, right? Even though you weren’t too happy about it?”

  “That’s right. Donny wanted to do the right thing by Christy and the baby. He was an honorable man.”

  Maya produced the piece of paper she found. “This says otherwise.”

  Tracy stared at the document, the color draining from her face. “What’s that?”

  “This is a printout of an email from a man named Rider Mainwood. It was sent to you the day before yesterday. Marked extremely urgent and for your eyes only.”

  Maya watched as Wilbur Hall looked up, startled. It was obvious Tracy had never shared this particular email with her father.

  “Mr. Mainwood runs a private investigation business out of Arkansas,” Maya went on. “The cleaner must have thrown the printout in the trash—or maybe you did, Tracy—and it ended up in the motel garbage, where I just found it.” She glanced around at her attentive audience, even Scott momentarily stunned into silence. “I’m guessing this is the email you showed to Donny, as proof of his infidelity. Let me read to you what Mr. Mainwood wrote. ‘Suspect in Gateway Lodge Motel meeting ex-wife and kid. Happy reunion. Sharing a room. Photographic proof of infidelity available. Link provided. Password Cheater69.’” She looked up, Tracy’s face a mask of anger. “I checked the ‘photographic proof of infidelity’ and those pictures are pretty steamy, Tracy. Steamy enough to make you fly out here immediately to confront your fiancé.”

  Tracy was exchanging furious glances with her father.

  “You better shut up, Trace,” her father said. “Not another word, you hear?”

  “So what happened, Tracy?” asked Maya. “Did you wait for Christy to leave the room and then you went in to confront Donny and things got out of hand? The knife was nearby, probably lying on the table next to the cheese platter Donny had ordered. So you grabbed it and stabbed him, didn’t you? And then he stumbled out of the open window—only he snatched that brooch from your blouse just before he did. And you couldn’t very well go down there and get it back, could you? So you snuck downstairs last night and into the freezer to get your brooch back—yes, my little brother saw you.”

  “But… I saw Christy,” said Scott, confused.

  “You saw someone go into their room—which you thought was room 24B. But in actual fact you saw Tracy go into her room, which is located right next to Christy’s.”

  Tracy’s eyes snapped to Scott. “You jerk!” she screamed, and launched herself at him. Only before she ever got close, Ralph gave a sharp bark and jumped up at the berserk young heiress, knocking her off her stride and to the floor, then stood barking over her.

  “Get this monster off of me!” Tracy hollered.

  Dad took Ralph’s leash and dragged him off a cowering Tracy, who got up with the help of Mom. “I’m sorry, dear,” said Mom. “He doesn’t bite, you know. But he doesn’t like it when you attack the members of his family.”

  Tracy stood there for a moment, tears now rolling down her cheeks. She glanced over to her dad, who was shaking his head. “Oh, Pookie,” he said softly, looking crushed.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said. “It was an accident, you know. Donny was a big, nasty brute and he slapped me. He-he even tried to strangle me. I had to defend myself, so…”

  That didn’t sound very plausible, Maya thought, but decided to leave well enough alone. The police could take things from here. And as the thought entered her mind, there was a commotion at the entrance to the dining room, and three police officers came hurrying in, led by a burly man with a walrus mustache and jowly cheeks.

  “Chief Boelk,” said Vernon, relief clear in his voice. “Finally. It’s her. She did it.”

  The chief nodded, his hand going to his belt where a pair of shiny handcuffs were dangling. “I know.” He then strode up to Tracy. “Christy Cadanet?”

  “Christy didn’t do it, Chief,” said Vernon. “Tracy did. Tracy Hall.”

  The Chief glanced around for another young woman, then his eyes settled on Christy. He purposely walked up to her. “Tracy Hall, you’re under arrest for—”

  “I’m not Tracy, though,” said Christy. “She’s Tracy.”

  The Chief now scratched his mustache. “I’m confused,” he confessed.

  “It’s been a very confusing two days, Chief,” said Dad. “Tracy Hall just confessed. She killed Donny because he was cheating on her with his ex-wife Christy Cadanet. That’s Tracy over there and this is Christy.”

  “Right,” said the Chief gruffly. “And you’re the brilliant criminologist Thomas Kelly, founder of the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit? The man who wrote the book on profiling?”

  “Um…”r />
  The Chief grimaced. “I didn’t think so. So why don’t we let these nice folks finish their breakfast, and you and me and these two ladies go into Vernon’s office and thresh this thing out once and for all?”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” said Dad, speaking as though he had a frog in his throat.

  Chapter 37

  The Highlander’s engine was ticking over nicely—thanks to the good people of Triple-A who were working overtime these days—and the Kellys were ready to start the final leg of their trip. Jacob was settled into his baby carrier, crowing happily and trying to catch a fat fly who had miraculously survived the snowstorm, and Tom, Dee, Scott and Maya were saying goodbye to their host and to Jim and Eden, the old couple who’d become friends over the course of the past two days.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Professor,” said Vernon, clasping Tom’s hands affectionately.

  Even though Chief Boelk had revealed Tom’s secret, Vernon was still a believer.

  “And I don’t know how to thank you, Vernon,” said Tom. “You’ve been the perfect host.”

  “Oh, one does what one can,” said Vernon modestly.

  “No, you’ve got a great little motel here, Vernon,” said Jim. “And I for one am prepared to give you a star rating on TripAdvisor. Isn’t that right, darling?”

  “I’m surprised you even know about TripAdvisor,” said his wife.

  “My son taught me all about the Interwebs,” Jim fondly told Dee.

  Dee smiled. She was glad this trip was over, but Tom was right. It had been quite the experience, and not all of it as bad as one would imagine, giving the circumstances.

  The storm had finally blown over—a lot sooner than the weather forecasters had predicted, but then weather forecasters usually got it wrong—and it was time to head back to Seattle and pick up the thread of their lives. Scott and Maya and Tom might just make it back in time for school, and Dee had a gallery to run.

  Vikki, who’d also come out, stood wiping away a tear. “You guys are the most wonderful guests,” she was saying. “Please come back next year.”

  “We might,” said Dee. “Usually Tom’s folks visit us in Seattle for Thanksgiving, but this was a nice change of pace.”

  But Maya was throwing her pleading glances, and so was Scott. They clearly weren’t as keen to come back to Middletown, Ohio—or Dayton—as she and Tom were.

  “At least you solved the murder,” said Eden. “Or at least your brilliant daughter did.” She pinched Maya’s cheek, who smiled a little polite smile.

  “Just putting two and two together,” said Maya modestly. “Once I saw that brooch and remembered that TMZ story, and then of course the email, things clicked into place.”

  “They should make TMZ a subject in school,” said Scott. “The things you can learn from reading that site are unbelievable!”

  Maya pinched him on the arm, and this was not a loving pinch either.

  “Ouch!” Scott cried, and tried to pinch his sister right back, but she slapped his hand away. A slapfest followed, and Dee cried, “Cut it out, you guys!”

  “Listen to your mother,” Tom grumbled when the slapping intensified.

  “Oh, just let them be kids together,” said Eden with a maternal smile. “They have their whole lives to behave and be good. You’ll be surprised how quickly the years pass.” She heaved a little sob, and pressed her hand to her face.

  Jim massaged his wife’s back. “Five boys. And gone in the blink of an eye,” he said kindly. “Appreciate what you got, folks, that’s all I can say.”

  They watched Maya chase her brother around the car, slipping and sliding, then start a snowball fight, and Dee shook her head. Maybe Jim and Eden were right. Then again, if Maya killed Scott or the other way around, she’d kill them both. Though she had to admit Maya had surprised her with the clever way she’d solved this murder. And she’d stunned Chief Boelk, too. When the Chief had finally slapped the handcuffs on Tracy, and arrested her for the murder of her fiancé, he’d told Maya it was all thanks to her, and had suggested a career in law enforcement might not be such a bad thing for her to consider.

  As for Tom, the Chief had told him in no uncertain terms that a career in law enforcement was the last thing he should consider. Apparently the Chief was a big fan of the TV show Mindhunter, and had even read the book the show was based on. And unlike Vernon he could count and had immediately deduced there was no way Tom had been old enough to found that particular institution in the year of our Lord 1972.

  “Do you think Tracy Hall will get the punishment she deserves?” asked Vernon.

  “I doubt it,” said Tom. “She’ll insist she acted out of self-defense, and given Donny’s reputation the jury will probably accept it. Plus, she’ll have the best lawyers money can buy.”

  “At least everyone will know what she did,” said Vikki, hugging herself against the cold. “And that’s a punishment all in itself, isn’t it?”

  They all chewed on that for a moment, but then it was time to head on out. And just when Dee had managed to corral both Scott and Maya into the car, after saying goodbye to Jim and Eden and Vernon and Vikki, she noticed they were missing one family member.

  “Where’s Ralph?” she asked, searching around.

  “Probably looking for another dead body,” said Vernon in a dubious display of black humor.

  “Ralph!” Dee yelled, putting her hands to her mouth. “Ralphie!”

  And there he came, bounding up to them from around the back of the motel.

  “He’s got something between his teeth!” said Jim excitedly. “Looks like you were right, Vern. He found himself another stiff!”

  Ralph came running up, and Dee saw they were right: he was carrying something between his teeth. She crouched down. “What you got there, boy? Give it to me.”

  Ralph obediently dropped the object at her feet, then gave a cheerful bark, as if to say, ‘I found this especially for you!’

  Dee picked it up and studied it. It was a piece of cloth, ripped from something.

  “What is it?” asked Vernon.

  “Looks like one of them Christmas sweaters,” said Jim.

  “Them horrible ugly ones,” Vikki added. “With the reindeer.”

  “Oh, God,” said Vernon. “When I said that about another dead body I was only kidding!”

  And then Dee recognized the swath of sweater. It was red and had a piece of antler on it. Her eyes snapped to Scott, who was looking at her with a sheepish and obviously guilty expression on his face.

  “How was I supposed to know he was gonna lose the darn thing!” Scott cried. “I just wanted to make sure he didn’t freeze to death, just like Jim told me!”

  “Oh, so now it’s my fault, is it?” said Jim.

  In spite of herself, Dee had to laugh, and then Jim and Eden did, too, and Vernon and Vikki. Even Tom was laughing, probably because he realized he’d never have to wear that sweater ever again, and Scott, because he was getting off pretty easy.

  The only one who wasn’t laughing was Maya. Instead, she stuck her head out of the car. “Can we get going already? We’re gonna miss our flight, you guys!”

  And then they were finally off, five Kellys and their dog. They’d found a dead body, solved a murder, survived a blizzard, and had made new friends in the unlikeliest of places.

  Time to head on home—where new adventures and mysteries awaited.

  Excerpt from Murder Retreat (Nora Steel Book 1)

  Chapter One

  Bobbi tapped her pencil against the yellow pad, frowning darkly at no one in particular. When the tapping didn’t produce the desired result, and neither did the frowning, she finally threw down both pencil and pad with a groan of frustration and swiftly rose from the couch she’d been lounging on.

  “I can’t do this,” she muttered, and stalked over to the kitchen.

  “Can’t do what?” asked Melody, her blond head popping out from the landing.

  “Plot this sucker,” Bobbi said a
s she yanked open the fridge and checked around for something edible. She was a voluminous woman and it took a lot of food to keep that body in the shape it was accustomed to. She saw a tub of Trader Joe’s Belgian Chocolate Pudding and grabbed it. She grunted in approval. Just what she needed right now.

  Without further ado, she yanked away the cover, grabbed a spoon from the dish rack, plunged it into the chocolaty gooey goodness and stuffed it into her mouth.

  Closing her eyes, she savored the delicacy.

  “Leave some for the rest of us, will ya?” a voice sounded nearby.

  Opening her eyes, she saw that Zita was staring at her.

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she grumbled as she dug in for another spoonful.

  “Do what?” asked Zita.

  “Sneak up on me like that.”

  “I didn’t sneak up on you.”

  “Yes, you did. You sneak up on people and you scare the living bejeesus out of them.”

  Zita rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  Melody, who’d come bounding down the stairs, joined them in the small kitchen. “So what’s the trouble?” she asked.

  “Trouble with what?” asked Zita, now intently studying her fingernails, which were painted a glossy black, her favorite color. She was a wiry young woman with raven hair and a distinctive lip piercing, currently wearing a Lisbeth Salander T-shirt and ragged black jeans.

  “Bobbi’s having trouble plotting out our next book,” said Melody.

  “Oops,” said Zita.

  Oops was right. In this collaboration of theirs, they’d agreed from the first that everything began with plot. Bobbi provided the plot for the books, Melody sprinkled in the romantic sizzle, and Zita added her own brand of dark suspense. But without a plot to start off with they were sunk. It was the foundation upon which the rest had to be carefully built.

  “Maybe we can think up a plot together?” Melody suggested.

  Zita scoffed, “Yeah, right.”