Doc's conversation was short and to the point. “I'd guess your killer strangled her upstairs and dropped her into the bush. It was murder.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“There's a thin wire wrapped twice around her neck.” The doctor shook his head, a silent commentary on the cruelties people inflict. “It's tight enough to dig into her skin.”
CHAPTER TEN
Tony saw Theo from the corner of his eye. She had changed from her pajamas and robe into warmer clothes. Tony knew she had kept her horrible vigil until he waved to her. Now dressed in sweatpants and one of his old sweatshirts, she stood motionless near the outside door, staring at Art Trimble's pajama covered legs and his bare feet. Her expression might have been confusion or surprise. With a shiver, she lifted her face and met Tony's gaze. Her head moved slightly from side to side.
Tony watched both of them. He was concerned about Theo and intensely curious about Art. Whatever the hotel owner was involved in, he had changed clothes since Theo had last seen him. “Well, Art,” said Tony. “I think the best thing for you to do now would be to return to your apartment and stay there with your wife. I'll have some questions for you a bit later.” As he watched the man vanish down the hallway, he knew Art was guilty. The question was: guilty of what? He might have been simply cheating on his wife, but he had definitely done something wrong tonight. Why hadn't he been more persistent about trying to determine what had brought Tony into his hotel at this hour? And with Doc Nash at his heels? Was the man completely devoid of curiosity, which Tony doubted, or did he already know why Tony and Doc were here so early in the morning?
He turned his attention to Theo, who stood so still and looked so forlorn. The lobby lights were dim, and she was almost part of a shadow. Tony stepped toward her, leaving the umbrella in the doctor's care. Only when he opened his arms for her did she finally leave her post and dash into their shelter. Pressing her chilled face into the warmth of his jacket covered chest, she clung to him. After a minute, she finally managed to ask, “Did she fall?” Her voice was a mere whisper and she was shaking all over.
“No. It doesn't look like it to me.” He wondered how much to tell her. “Doc thinks she was dead for some time before she was dropped over the side. That's just his first impression and nothing I want spread around.” Theo nodded her understanding. Her shivers increased, and he pulled her even closer. “While we wait, I need for you to answer a couple of questions.” He led her over to where he could still see the body but kept her face turned away from it. “Wade will be here in a few minutes, and then we can go inside.”
“Okay.” Her shivering lessened a bit.
“Did anything unusual happen last night? What time did everyone go to bed?”
Theo thought for a minute and pulled back so she could look up at Tony's face. “Melissa went to bed first. I'm not sure of the time, but I think it was about ten-thirty. Then Eleanor went to bed about eleven-thirty and Scarlet was right behind her.” Theo's eyes searched his. Hers were glistening with unshed tears as she answered his unspoken question. “As expected, I guess, Eleanor was pretty obnoxious at the start and then, after Martha blew up at her, Eleanor shut up and just sat there quietly working on her quilt. When she went up to bed, she said she was going to read for a while. Do you know she drinks? The big travel mug she always carries was filled with some rum concoction.”
Tony watched as Theo repeatedly ran a hand through her tangled curls until her hair formed a ball around her head like a wad of dandelion fluff. He waited for her to finish her story.
“Most of us went to bed at about midnight, I think. When I went up, Susan and Martha and your mom were the only ones still working. I have no idea what time they called it a night.”
“Do you know what rooms everyone is in?”
“Sure. I have a list Beth gave me when we checked in, but there is also a master list taped onto the counter in the front. Anyone could check it and know where to find the others.”
“Hell's bells, that will certainly help narrow the field, now won't it?” Tony felt something between incredulous and appalled.
“Going back to last night.” Theo ignored his bluster. “The evening was normal for a retreat. We worked. We snacked. We got caught up on current events. We had birthday cake. Scarlet was pretty aloof, but she showed us her embroidery, which is beautiful.” She took a deep breath. “When I went to my room, it was stuffy so I opened the window before I went to bed. I stood there for a while and enjoyed the fresh air, so I know she wasn't down there then. I had on my glasses, and I would have seen her.”
“Did you see or hear anything that seemed to be out of place? At any time?”
“No.” She paused with her fingers still entangled in her hair. “Not then.” She glanced up and Tony waited patiently. “It didn't seem important at the time, but . . .” When she stopped talking and didn't start again, Tony squeezed her side, encouraging her. “I thought I woke up because I was cold. Now I think something else woke me up, and it was only then I realized I was cold. Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely.” He pulled her fingers out of her hair and tried to fix the curls for her. “What woke you?” He managed to keep his tone even, but it was taking all of his self-control to just stand there playing with her hair. Sweet little Theo could have witnessed the killing and become a target herself. What he really wanted to do was to hit something. Hard.
Theo turned away from Tony and faced the corpse. “Give me your flashlight.” He did. When the bright light hit Scarlet's face, Theo's arm jerked, and she quickly moved the beam to illuminate the bushes and small trees growing right up to the stones of the building. Theo appeared to be listening to something. “It wasn't her landing there.” Her focus turned upwards. The light showed a space where a rail was missing from the veranda. “It was a wooden sound, like a board was being scraped against something. I'll bet it was someone moving that rail. We were all warned about there being a temporary barrier on the veranda. Now it's not there.”
Doc Nash ushered Wade into the area.
The deputy was already taking photographs as he came through the hotel. He smiled at Theo but did not speak. Tony pointed up to the area where the rail was missing. “After you finish photographing the scene down here, I want you to be sure and focus on the missing rail, the area all around it and her room. Check for footprints and fingerprints if you can.” The rain began falling again in earnest. “That's not going to help. You'd better snap those as quickly as possible.” Tony pushed Theo back into the hotel. “Show me the list.”
Theo did. As described, the list was posted where anyone could read it. The drawer where the keys were kept was ajar. Tony felt anger surge through him. “I'm going to get Art. You want to stay here or go to your room?” He was already headed for the Trimbles' apartment.
“I'll wait over there.” Theo pointed into the lounge. “I'm still cold, but I can wrap up in my unfinished quilt. There is one more thing I think you should know.” Theo glanced up, looking into Tony's eyes. “Art was dressed in hiking boots and warm clothes when he came in behind me and not in the robe he was wearing just now.”
“Really? How interesting.” Tony's lips lifted into a parody of a smile. “Do you think he saw you?”
“No.” Theo pointed to the plant in the alcove. “I was in my pajamas and ducked down behind that.” She walked away as Tony approached the owners' suite.
Art Trimble was neatly dressed in slacks and a sweater when he answered the knock on his door. “You haven't told me what's going on, Tony. Can I help?”
“Yes.” Fascinated by the man's costume changes, Tony waved toward the lobby. “I need you to come out and answer a couple of questions about the front desk.” He slipped his notebook out of his pocket. “To start with, what time do you lock the doors?”
“Usually, it is eight, but last night we locked them at seven-thirty. We weren't expecting any other guests. The guest keys will unlock the outside doors, you know.”
&nb
sp; “Is this drawer with the keys always open?” Tony hoped not. It would be an open invitation to a building-wide crime wave.
Art shook his head. “It is almost always locked. Beth and I have keys and so does Gavin, her nephew, but that's all.”
Tony nodded. “Don't touch it. It will need to be checked for fingerprints.” He rubbed the side of his nose and cocked his head. “Do you know how many keys should be in there for each room?”
“No. As far as being locked,” Art cleared his throat, “it was left open for the quilters because they all know us and each other. We're going to redo all of the locks and get the magnetic strip keys this winter. We haven't been replacing lost keys for a while, so we don't have as many as we used to and each room is different. I'll have to get into the computer to tell you how many are left for each room.” Stopping his nervous monologue at last, Art took a deep breath and rested his fists on his hips. “Now will you tell me what is going on? If someone was robbed in my hotel, I have a right to know.”
“I guess that's fair,” said Tony. He watched Art carefully. “It looks like Scarlet LaFleur was murdered some time last night or early this morning either in her room or on the veranda. Then the body was dropped or pushed into the shrubbery.”
“Not in my hotel!” A vein on the innkeeper's forehead throbbed, and his complexion went pale, then red and then chalk-white. “I won't have it.”
Tony was impressed. If Art was acting, he was doing a fantastic job. “Well, we are going to have to determine where she was killed for sure, but her corpse is in your flowerbed decorating one of your bushes. I know this is very disturbing, but we have to cordon off the area and question your staff and guests. All of them.” As he spoke, Tony kept wondering where Art had been during the night. Not for a second did he doubt Theo's account of what she had seen.
While Art Trimble was still staring glassy-eyed at him, Doc Nash came inside through the back door. The raincoat he had tented over his head was not enough to keep him dry, and he wasn't carrying the umbrella any longer. He shook the excess water from the coat and held it away from his body as he tipped his head, calling Tony over.
“I'm not going to do this autopsy. I'm just not set up for something like this, but I'm pretty sure the cause of death is a broken neck and a sophisticated autopsy might turn up fibers or skin fragments I could miss.” He started putting his jacket back on. “It was a deliberate homicide.”
“I appreciate you coming out, Doc.” Tony said as he dodged droplets of water flying off the doctor's jacket. “I'll send Wade along to deliver the body.” Doc's basset hound expression stopped him. “Oh, no, don't tell me he's sick again? There isn't even any blood.”
“He's out there with his head in a bush.” The doctor shook his head. “I've got a patient who is bulimic who spends less time barfing than Wade does. Send him along. Maybe a good autopsy is just what he needs.”
“Along with a bag and some smelling salts,” Tony added.
The doctor was halfway down the corridor when he stopped and turned. “I just remembered. I came up on the ambulance. I guess I'll have to wait for them so they can drop me off.” He plopped into a comfortable chair across from the front desk and yawned widely without bothering to cover his mouth. He began to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands and paused to yawn again.
Tony turned back. He wished he hadn't because standing there next to the doctor was Winifred, the newspaper reporter from hell. From the expression on her face, Tony assumed she had heard every word Doc Nash had muttered. Heaven only knew what kind of story she would be able to concoct. At that moment, Tony wasn't too sure the first amendment had been such a good idea. Without another word, he stalked back out into the rain.
Tony watched Wade begin stringing lights and setting out a stack of scene markers, ready to start his photographs and evidence collection. The Tennessee Bureau of Investigation was on its way to lend a hand with the evidence collection and investigation. He'd have some help inside and outside. Without the TBI, he had no idea how he would be able to conduct an investigation of this nature.
“How'd you find her?” said Doc Nash. The doctor reappeared at Tony's side.
Wade shook his head.
“Theo did.” Tony zipped his jacket up, staring at the doctor. “And she called me. I thought you went inside to wait for a ride.”
“I'm hiding from Winifred.” The doctor confessed, paused and then confronted Tony. “Are you saying Theo was outside in this weather? Tonight? When she should have been sleeping?” Doc Nash's voice rose in pitch and volume with each unanswered question. “Where is she?”
Tony nodded toward the lobby and stepped back to let the doctor storm past.
“Oh-oh,” Wade shook his head. “Your little wife's in trouble now.”
“I wish him luck. She won't listen to me.” Tony pointed to Wade's camera. “Start clicking.”
Theo was comfortably ensconced in the chair with her feet on an ottoman. She was covered from nose to toes with unfinished quilts, making her toasty and drowsy when Doc Nash charged into the room and yelled at her.
“What in thunder do you think you're doing, woman?”
“Getting warm and resting, like I'm supposed to.” Theo barely clamped her teeth down before she said something really sassy she was bound to regret.
“Go to bed.” Furious brown eyes stared at her. “Now.”
“I'm fine here.” No way was she going to admit she wasn't sure she could make it back to her room. She was too exhausted to walk or to argue.
Doc Nash picked up the imaginary gauntlet and tossed it back. “Okay, here's my offer.” He rubbed the back of his neck and dragged a chair around and sat on it, facing her.
His obvious fatigue and concern made Theo feel guilty. “I promise to be good. Just let me sit here for a bit longer.”
The doctor pretended he didn't hear her. “I'm getting you a wheelchair and an aide. You are going to bed. When you're not in bed, you'll sit and have your aide push you in a wheelchair. If you're hungry, she'll get you food. If you're sulky, she'll throw water in your face. If you argue with me, I'll put you in the hospital until you deliver those babies.”
Theo glanced up and saw Tony walk in just in time to overhear the doctor's diatribe. He paused in mid step. His frown deepened. “Doc?”
Doc Nash stared at Theo until she nodded her acquiescence.
“I won.” The doctor smiled as he stood and faced her husband. “Theo lost the battle.” He walked away from Theo, telling Tony about his plans for her and what he needed.
Truth to tell, Theo wasn't all that sorry to lose. She was tired constantly, and the weight of the babies seemed to increase on an hourly basis.
Tony studied the floor plan of the hotel printed on one of the little black and white information sheets from the front desk. It was the kind a clerk would give a guest after circling the room number.
Scarlet's room was near the stairs on the upper level. No rooms were in the point of the V, just a large veranda. Unlike the lower level rooms, each upper level room had a sliding door instead of a sash window. The door did not open onto a true balcony, but the ledge was wide enough for someone to stand outside and admire the view. An agile person might be able to climb from the veranda onto a ledge and then onto the next ledge.
According to his notes, Eleanor Liston was assigned the room next to Scarlet's. Tony knew he'd better talk to her. He considered several other options he'd prefer, like a nap, or a root canal. Just then he saw her coming toward him. As he waved for her to join him, there was a spot of hope. She might ignore him.
He would classify her response to his gesture as “reluctant” but reasonably timely. She moved smoothly onto the chair he'd indicated and settled her travel mug on the floor near her feet.Unlike most of the quilters, she had combed her hair and applied makeup. Her clothes were finer than those of the other ladies.
“I didn't kill her.” Eleanor's expression gave no clue to her emotions. “What else can I tell you?”
“Well, for starters, did you hear anything coming from her room?” At Eleanor's silent stare, he continued. “A conversation, noises, a shout or scream?”
“Oh. Let's see.” She took several big gulps from her mug and closed her eyes. “There was a squeak, like a desk chair that needs oiling.”
Tony jotted he comment down and waited.
“No scream. No voices.” Eleanor shook her head. “But I took a shower before I went to bed. Oh, wait. I was awakened by something bumping—at first I thought it was thunder, you know, because it kind of echoed and then it went all quiet.”
It wasn't much, Tony thought, but it was something. “Did you check the time?”
“No.”
“Were you acquainted with Scarlet?”
“Knew her all her life.”
“And?”
“She was always a cold-hearted, small-minded tramp.” Eleanor's lips pinched together. “I try not to speak ill of the dead.”
Eleanor's animosity jiggled a faint memory in his brain. “Rumor once suggested your husband and . . .”
“It's true.” The lines around Eleanor's mouth deepened. “He was faithless. I'm sure she, like all his paramours, thought he'd leave me and my money for her. She was just another name on his list.”
Tony didn't understand why she seemed so pleased to keep the man. Her husband had been lower than a worm, and she put up with it. He was thinking about other couples who continued in the same manner.
“It was your aunt who threatened to kill her. Not me.”
“Did you really threaten to kill her?” Tony waved his Aunt Martha into the alcove where he set up his temporary interview station. He had commandeered a couple of chairs, a supply of cups and coffee and a big box of tissues. Theo was near enough to overhear the conversations, but she appeared to be sleeping. After the hours of questioning the staff, the quilters and what he thought of as “normal guests,” his stomach was killing him. It was definitely time for the emergency bottle of liquid antacid he kept in the Blazer. Should he drink it from the bottle or sip it from a coffee cup?
Barbara Graham - Quilted 03 - Murder by Music Page 9
