Two guys came out of my office stripping off rubber gloves. “We’re through for now. It’s all yours.”
Detective Delgado said, “Thanks. Ms. Peterson, I’d like you to take a look and see if you can tell if anything’s missing.”
A wave of odor assailed me as I walked in the door. Although I’d never smelled death before, this was more than just the smell of blood, coppery yet rancid, and something else I chose not to identify. My stomach roiled. Trying not to breathe, I concentrated on details to keep the queasiness under control.
The contents of my inbox and glass from broken picture frames lay strewn in front of the desk. One of the chairs that usually sat against the wall had been overturned on top of the mess. The other was shoved in the corner. A large puddle of blood congealed on the carpet. Blood and what looked to me like brain matter spattered the top and side of my computer, as well as the wall behind it. I couldn’t help picturing how she must have fallen and hit her head on the edge of the desk. I quickly looked away, and resisted the urge to vomit by sucking air through my teeth.
My chair sat against the back wall. The middle desk drawer with pencils and pens stood open, but the deeper side drawers remained locked. I handed my keys to a gloved police officer, who unlocked the right hand drawer.
“I don’t see anything missing. All the files look undisturbed. That’s her file.” I pointed to the one with Monica’s name on it. When the police officer took it from the drawer and gave it to Delgado, I bolted from the office. I kept my eyes averted from the puddle of blood. Leaning against Charlene’s desk, several deep breaths failed to clear the smell or settle my stomach.
Detective Long who followed me out asked, “Are you all right?”
I nodded.
“Would you print out a list of the names and addresses of all the HR staff for me?”
Since they already had my address, he was probably just giving me something to do. Still, I was grateful for the distraction.
Detective Delgado came out and said, “You can go, but I don’t want you talking to anyone about this.”
“What about my staff? I’ll need to notify them.”
“No. I want to interview them as they come to work. I’d rather they didn’t know until then.”
Alan said, “I’ve arranged for an area in security for the police interviews and I notified Tony.”
Tony Augustino was our general manager and our boss. It didn’t surprise me that Tony wasn’t there. While he insisted on being kept informed, he trusted his executives to be able to do their jobs while he did his. He would be on the phone notifying the corporate office we’d had a murder. Fortunately, the HR office was located as far away from any guest areas as possible. Even if the guests had noticed the cop cars, they may not have realized it had happened on hotel property.
It was almost two a.m. when Alan walked me out to the elevator once again. I asked him the questions the detective refused to answer. “When did this happen?”
“Security called me at ten saying they found Monica lying on the floor of your office when they let in the night cleaners. The door to your office was open and the lights were on. I got here before the police arrived. It looked to me like she fell, hitting her head on the side of your desk. Those were the only injuries that I could see from the doorway. However, once the coroner examined her, I heard him tell the detectives that from the force of the blow, it couldn’t have been an accident. Someone pushed her.”
Chapter Two
I drove home and crawled into bed for a few hours of sleep, hoping I wouldn’t have nightmares. They weren’t nightmares exactly, just vague images of blood dripping. I slept fitfully, and woke groggy and out of sorts after only a few hours. Normally, I select one of my power suits to attend a corporate meeting. However, since my best power suit was red and that reminded me of all the blood the night before, I settled for the navy suit with a gold silk shell. It had the advantage of a short skirt with a slit up the side, just in case I met up with the handsome detective again. I don’t do cleavage. Even if I had any, it wouldn’t be appropriate for the work place. In addition, at a casino, with all the competition from half-naked, enhanced, pushed-up cocktail waitresses roaming the property in skimpy costumes, it’s pointless. I shook my head. Talk about vain, here I was thinking about what I looked like when one of my employees had just been murdered.
I coaxed my shoulder-length blond locks into a French twist, and slapped on a minimum of makeup. Great, glancing at my watch, I noticed I was already running late. If they hadn’t canceled the corporate meeting, it was due to start at nine. I’d wanted to get to the office by eight to meet up with my staff, and get an update on the investigation from Alan. We’d posted “closed” notices on the doors last night, directing everyone to report to Security, so that was my first stop.
Unlike HR, the security offices have to be close to the action, while still remaining out of sight. I parked in the garage and walked through the casino. Even at this early hour, bleary-eyed patrons sat on stools in front of slot machines and repeatedly punched the buttons. I waved to a few of the regulars, usually late shift employees from other hotels who came to play awhile before going home to bed. I ducked into an inconspicuous door, walked down a dim hallway and took the stairs to the basement to get to Alan’s office.
Alan looked like he had been there all night. His eyes were red. He kept running his hand over his face. It looked like he’d gone home at some point to shower and change, because he had on different clothes, and he had a tiny piece of tissue stuck to his face where he must have nicked himself shaving. He told me, “Corporate decided to postpone the meeting, but Tony’s expecting us to brief our property executives at nine.”
Most of my staff sat outside the security conference room the police were using. We all hugged. I reassured them that the company would pay them whatever hours they missed, due to the closing of the office. The clerks only made a little over minimum wage. The loss of even a few hours of pay could be devastating. Everyone looked a little apprehensive about talking to the police. They fidgeted, looked around, and talked in whispers, but no tears. From what I could see, no one seemed unduly upset about the death of Monica. Charlene sat talking to the others. I drew her aside.
Frowning she said, “Why didn’t you call me last night? The police called me early this morning to ask about my key to your office.”
“I’m sorry. They wouldn’t let me call anyone.” Once she indicated she forgave me, I said quietly, “I expected everyone to be in tears. I know Monica wasn’t here long, but surely someone felt close to her.”
Charlene rolled her eyes. “Most of them hated her.”
That shocked me, definitely not what I wanted to hear. “Why? How come I didn’t know?”
“Sweetie, you’ve been up to your ears in union negotiations for the last month. It’s only these last few weeks that she let the claws out.”
Before I could ask her any more questions, the door to the conference room opened. Detective Delgado came out looking even better than the night before. Still dressed in the same suit, he sported a darker five o’clock shadow. However, nothing about him suggested tired. He didn’t look the least bit rumpled. Minus his jacket, the baby blue shirt he’d worn underneath looked freshly laundered. Instead of buttons, his cuffs sported monogrammed gold cuff links. Charlene caught me staring at him, and poked me in the ribs a second before he looked in my direction.
Rose Lopez, the employment supervisor, came out next, crying and twisting a sodden handkerchief in her hands. I hurried over to comfort her, giving her a hug. In my arms, she shook like a leaf. Why was she so upset? What had he said to upset her so badly? I glared at the detective.
He nodded to Alan and me and asked to speak to us. I followed Alan into the conference room, leaving Rose in Charlene’s care. Delgado sat down at the head of the table looking through his notes. He glanced up at me and said, “Stop looking at me like I just kicked your puppy. I didn’t even talk to her. Detective Long
interviewed her and he was very gentle.”
Detective Long sitting next to him, nodded. He looked so kind and fatherly that I found it hard to imagine him being harsh with anyone.
However, since my anger remained the only barrier between me and the magnetism Delgado radiated, I wasn’t ready to let it go. “Then why was she so upset?”
Looking back down he said, “You’ll have to ask her.” His brow furrowed. When he looked up again, his eyes were hard. “All the information you gave me last night on the deceased is wrong.”
Alan and I looked at each other. “What do you mean wrong?”
Flipping through his notes, he said, “The Social Security number you gave me belonged to a woman who died five years ago. The address for her mother in St. Louis is a department store. The driver’s license and the sheriff’s card we found in the purse in her office are fakes. She’s never been to our office. We don’t have her fingerprints on file. Monica Smith doesn’t exist.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. Clearly angry, he turned on Alan. “Don’t you people do background checks?”
Before Alan had a chance, I answered. “She transferred in to us from St. Louis two months ago. All that information came from St. Louis. Corporate security should have done all the background checks five years ago when she was originally hired. They told me she needed to transfer for personal reasons, hiding from an abusive spouse.”
Grabbing the phone on the table before he could stop me, I dialed the number of the Human Resources Director of our hotel in St. Louis. Dee and I were old friends. We’d hit it off at the very first corporate meeting we’d both attended. “Dee, it's Valerie, did you hear about Monica?” The grapevine sent information faster than any other known form of communication, so I wasn’t surprised when she said yes.
Delgado tried to take the phone from me. Twisting away from him, I punched the speaker button so he could hear the conversation. “We’re having trouble notifying her next of kin. I know you told me she was hiding from her abusive husband, was Smith her married name?”
“No, I think it was Sullivan,” said Dee. “She said Smith was her maiden name.”
“Do you remember the husband’s first name or anything about him?”
“No, I never met him. I got the impression she hadn’t lived with him for a long time, but that he suddenly showed up. She came into my office one day, saying he found her. She sounded scared, so I put her in for a transfer.”
“Did corporate security do a background check on her? Maybe I can get some more information from them.”
“I don’t think they did.” A long pause told me she was hedging. It was standard procedure to do background checks on everyone, especially anyone in management.
Instantly, I knew what had happened. “I see. Who did she know? Who told you to hire her?”
Again the hesitation. “Gee Val; I’m not sure I should tell you.”
“Dee, this is a murder investigation. I just told the police that we always do background checks. They’re going to be in your office asking the same questions. I can let them think Monica told me.” I winked at Delgado, who was glaring at me.
After about a minute of silence, she must have realized telling me would give her a way to cover her own butt, because she blew out a breath and said, “Okay, Darryl recommended her to me. He said, since he had known her a long time, it wouldn’t be necessary to do the background check. Of course, he probably won‘t admit that now, so thanks.”
When I got off the phone, Delgado sat with his arms folded, looking thunderous. I saw I needed to explain. “She would never have told you anything. She has too much loyalty to the company. Face it. You needed me.”
“And you aren’t loyal?” he asked, raising both eyebrows.
“I am loyal, but I won’t protect a liar, much less a killer. I have an overdeveloped sense of right and wrong that sometimes overrides loyalty. You can ask anyone.” I turned to Alan for confirmation. He rolled his eyes, but nodded. “So thanks to me, you now have another name—Sullivan—and a lead.”
I explained to Delgado that Darryl was Darryl Collins, the Vice President of Human Resources at the corporate level. While I and the HR Directors at the other properties reported directly to each hotel General Manager, we all had a dotted line responsibility to the Corporate Vice President of Human Resources. Darryl held quarterly meetings to exchange information on common problems and inform us of revisions on employee policies. What I didn’t tell him was that Darryl was probably sleeping with Monica, and didn’t want a background check that would show that fact on the official records. Rumor control had it that Darryl, a known player, had cornered every eligible female in the company at one time or another. Intimidated by my height and my threats to do serious harm to his anatomy, he kept his hands off me, but that didn’t stop the verbal innuendos about what I was missing whenever he got close enough. A recommendation from Darryl almost certainly came with a price. However, Delgado would be lucky if Darryl remembered where he picked her up, let alone anything about her. It was unlikely he’d known her long, being more the one-night-stand kind of guy.
Alan and I asked if Delgado had any other suspects or information that we could pass on to Tony. His eyes narrowed and he said, “It’s a little hard to figure out who killed her when I don’t even know who’s dead.” We took that as our cue to leave.
We briefed Tony first. I told him about Monica and Darryl, and my theory about why corporate hadn’t done a background check. Tony pursed his lips, drummed his fingers on the desk, but kept his thoughts to himself. While he and Alan discussed how to keep a lid on publicity, I thought about calling and giving Darryl a heads up the police would be talking to him, for about a second. The moment passed. The man not only ran around on his wife, but he would walk over his own grandmother to get ahead. Part of me really hoped that Delgado would arrest him for the murder, so I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. Except I couldn’t think of any reason why Darryl would care enough to dirty his hands, after all this time that Monica probably wasn’t even a blip on his radar.
At nine, Tony briefed the other directors, telling them only that Monica had been killed, and so far, the police had no suspects. Alan left me to go back to security. I called Charlene to meet me for lunch. I wanted to hear more about Monica. Although I can comp a meal in any of the restaurants on property, I asked her to meet me at a nearby off-property one. I wanted privacy.
I was sitting in a booth at the back when Charlene arrived. She’s petite, even with the five-inch heels she always wears, and can’t weigh more than 100 pounds. Next to her, I always feel like an Amazon. Today she wore dark gray slacks topped with a lighter gray silk blouse, and strappy red high heel sandals. Her dark red hair was short and spiked on top as usual. A good thing her husband, Evan, made lots of money as a divorce lawyer, because she could never afford the expensive clothes she always wore on the salary I paid her. Charlene was smart, funny, and extremely organized. I felt lucky to have her as both a secretary and a friend.
Our waiter, suspiciously absent until now, followed her over to the table.
She gave me a hug and then plopped down across from me, leaning back, her dark eyes studying me. I waited for the lecture about letting myself get too tired or stressed out, but apparently, I passed the eyeball test, because she just nodded and opened her menu. On the other hand, maybe she felt pressured by the waiter who never took his eyes off her and hovered over her right shoulder. “I’ll have the Cobb salad and a diet soda,” she told the waiter flashing him a brilliant smile.
Famished, I ordered a pastrami and Swiss on rye, with a side of potato salad and, of course, a diet cola. Since this would probably be my only decent meal today, I refused to waste it on a salad. Once the waiter delivered the food and Charlene rewarded him with another smile, I got down to the inquisition. “Why does . . . did, everyone hate Monica?”
“Because she was a bitch,” she said while spooning the dressing over her salad.
When she looked at me, I r
aised my eyebrows but didn’t say anything, having just taken a big bite of my sandwich.
She went on. “Monica acted really nice in the beginning, but it was all an act. Before long, she started treating everyone like her personal servant. She'd asked them to pull a file for her and would they mind bringing her coffee as well. She’d ask anyone going out for lunch to bring her something back. Then conveniently, she’d be in the bathroom or out of the office when they returned, so that she wouldn’t be there to pay them for it. Whenever she left the office, she wouldn’t tell anyone where she was going, just said we could reach her on her cell. Lately she’s spent more time out of the office than in it. Even when she was in the office, she kept her door closed, and asked not to be disturbed. Two weeks ago, when she started putting her filing on my desk, I informed her that I was your secretary, not hers. She hadn’t spoken to me since.” Charlene had pushed the food around on the plate, but hadn’t eaten much.
I, on the other hand, had consumed half a sandwich and all the potato salad. I tried waving my hand to signal the waiter for a refill on the diet cola, but he ignored me until Charlene looked up, and then he hurried over. Wiping my mouth on a napkin, I said, “Okay, I can see why they didn’t like her, but you said they hated her. That seems a bit extreme. Also, it doesn’t explain why Rose was so upset this morning.”
Charlene, still toying with her salad, hesitated before answering. Finally, she took a deep breath and plunged in. “Rose knows that sooner or later Detective Stud Muffin is going to find out that she had good reason to want Monica dead. Monica slept with Rose’s husband.”
Practically choking on my sandwich, I said, “What? Why didn’t she tell me?”
She waved one beautifully manicured hand at me, “You haven’t been in the office hardly at all the last two weeks what with all the union negotiations. Even when you were there, you’ve had corporate exes or lawyers with you. It’s not like there’s been an opportunity for any of us to talk to you in private. The only reason I know is that I walked into the Ladies room and found Rose crying right after she found out. She made me promise not to tell you until she decided how she wanted to handle it.”
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