Dead Roots

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Don’t you think Seto would have turned off the faucet more securely? Anyway, the trail led into his kitchen. The water shouldn’t be pink in there. And his back door was unlocked.”

  “Oh dear.” Champagne chewed her lip. “He might be prepping for the luau tonight,” she suggested. Marla noticed she’d lost her cheery demeanor. “You could find him supervising the gardeners by the pool. What were you doing at his house, Marla?”

  “I wanted to ask him some questions about my family history. Do your people carry beepers?”

  “I’m afraid not; we use cell phones, but Seto refused to get one. He’s still back in the dark ages in respect to technology.” Champagne’s mouth curved in a wry smile.

  “What about a work schedule? He must account for his whereabouts to someone.”

  “You can ask George Butler. The manager keeps tabs on his key people. But Seto often wanders off on his own, especially to the sugar mill. I’ve seen him there lots of times when I lead tour groups. I think he’s aiming to keep Alyssa’s ghost company.” Nervous laughter bubbled from her throat.

  “Do you really believe in spirits?” Marla said. “People are dying here, but not to join their ancestors. First that man on the ladder, then my aunt, now Seto is missing. I’ve noticed that the resort employs an unusual number of laborers, and construction work continues without any end in sight. What’s going on?”

  Champagne cast an anxious glance at the open doorway. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “May I shut the door?” At Champagne’s nod, Marla secured their privacy. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned about these things? I’ve noticed how you assume your cheerful act in front of guests. Is your performance aimed at your audience or your employers?”

  “I-I’m sorry. I can’t…Look, Marla, I know you want to help. But that could be dangerous around here.”

  “I’m more worried about Seto Mulch right now.”

  “He has to be somewhere on the property. You’ll see.”

  “I’ll check it out, but I’d appreciate it if you could ask around as well.”

  “Of course.” Champagne cast her eyes down.

  “What is it?” Marla sensed she wanted to add something.

  “If you could get inside Mr. Butler’s office…”

  “Yes?”

  “You may find many of your answers there.”

  Is he involved in something that disturbs you? Marla wanted to ask. Embezzlement would give the manager a reason for wanting to preserve the hotel. Any sale might prompt an examination of his accounting books. “Go on,” she said instead.

  “It’s the theme park. He’s already—”

  A knock rattled the door before it banged open. Wanda Beake swooped inside like a bird of prey. “Champagne, dearie, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need to review this schedule with you.” She waved a sheet of paper. “Oh, Marla. You ran off so quickly this morning that I didn’t get a chance to ask if you enjoyed our little tour.” Her mouth widened in a grin, but Marla thought her eyes looked unfriendly.

  “It was wonderful,” she said, imitating Champagne’s exuberance. “I was just talking to Champagne about the lack of a salon on premises. My cousin had to go into town earlier to get her nails done. It would be highly convenient for guests if you had a beautician on staff.”

  Champagne picked up the cue. “You’re right, and we have the facilities at the spa, but we can’t find qualified people willing to do part-time work.”

  “I have a salon in Palm Haven,” Marla explained. “Maybe I’ll mention it to your manager later. You could always work out an on-call arrangement with a local establishment.” Taking her leave, she breezed out the door, hoping the naturalist regarded her as nothing more than a fluff-head. A search for Butler led to a dead end. Instead, she ran into Harvey tagging someone’s luggage at the bellboy’s station.

  “Have you seen Seto Mulch?” she asked him, the urgency of that errand returning.

  The steward leered at her. “I ain’t run into him yet today, ma’am,” he replied, “but I’ll take a look-see with ya as soon as I store these bags.”

  “That’s okay.” She shifted her handbag. “By the way, what time did you pick up Wanda Beake from the airport last night?”

  Harvey scratched his bristly jaw. “It was pretty late. Didn’t get there until after dark. Ya’d think they’d schedule flight arrivals during the day to these small aero-ports.”

  “Were many people getting off the airplane?”

  “I waited outside at baggage pickup, but there weren’t no crowd at all.”

  Maybe that was because the bird-watcher had come in earlier and hidden out for the day.

  “Harvey, why is there no thirteenth floor?” she asked, changing the subject abruptly. “You know, the tower elevator goes from twelve to fourteen. Anyone who can count will realize the top floor is number thirteen. Or is there an actual level in between the two?”

  “Impossible. Ya can’t get off nowhere else. Did hear some wild rumors, though.”

  Pulling a key ring from his pocket, he unlocked the storage room and stashed the suitcases inside. Returning, he winked at Marla as he pocketed his keys. Those would be useful to borrow sometime, she thought. Would they gain her entrance into Oleander Hall?

  “What kind of rumors?” she said, anxious to pursue her search for Mulch, but also wanting to hear what Lyle had to say. Harvey signaled for her to follow him into the telephone alcove, where he pulled a flask from his jacket. “Want some? It’s good stuff.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the strong whiff of rum when he uncorked the container. Taking a deep swig, he smacked his lips before replacing the flask. “Maybe booze ain’t what yer after.” His loopy smile revealed a broken tooth. “Gals like you go for guys like me, even if ya pretend yer too hoity-toity.” He swaggered toward her, making a lewd gesture. “We could do it quick-like, or go somewhere more private.”

  Marla forced herself to remain still. “Tell me what you heard about the thirteenth floor first”

  He leaned so close, she could see the jaundiced tint to his eyes. “This hotel was built during Prohibition. Folks used to come here to get their fix, if ya know what I mean. A secret floor would be just the place. No access, though, so I don’t see how it can be true. Keep in mind, this is just hearsay.”

  “I would imagine the blueprints display the layout.”

  The boss has a set in his office. Keeps them locked up.”

  Marla assessed the lecherous gleam in Lyle’s eye and what she would have to do to gain entry into the manager’s office. There had to be another way. Right now, it was more imperative to locate the groundskeeper. Seto Mulch had worked for Andrew and then Ruth. Prohibition? She hadn’t even considered the era, but the more she thought about it, the more the secret passage made sense.

  “My boyfriend will get angry if he finds me here,” she warned, ducking Lyle’s outstretched arm.

  The steward snickered. “Be waitin’ for ya next time, honey buns.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Marla muttered on her way outdoors. The door swung at her, and she nearly collided with Donna Albright.

  The councilwoman’s flushed face regarded her warily. “I’m so sorry,” the older woman said. “I forget these doors aren’t automatic and which way they open. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “That’s all right” Marla stepped across the threshold, but Albright’s next words stopped her from going any farther.

  “By any chance, have you run into Mr. Mulch? The old guy was supposed to meet me, but he didn’t show.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He left a message on my machine that he had something to say regarding the hotel property, and I should meet him by the volleyball court at eleven o’clock. He stood me up.”

  Marla glanced at her watch. It was almost lunch hour. Time to exchange news with Vail. “Champagne told me he’s fixing the pool area for tonight’s luau. It’s possible he got delayed.”

  Albri
ght’s lips pursed. “I don’t appreciate my time being wasted.”

  “How did the vote go on Wednesday?”

  “We still have some issues to clear up. There’s a lot of opposition from the hotel staff, and they make some valid points.”

  “I thought the council voted in favor of the acquisition.”

  “Who told you that?” Albright’s spine stiffened.

  “My cousin’s husband, Bruce, a real estate developer,” Marla said. “He admitted he’d like a stake in developing the theme park. Have you done a title search to see if the current owners have the right to sell the property?”

  “We haven’t progressed that far. Is there some reason why you’d anticipate a problem?”

  Marla shrugged. “I’m wondering who holds the documents, that’s all. This place used to belong to my grandparents.”

  “So I’m aware.” She glanced behind Marla, and an expression of distaste wrinkled her face. “Oh Lord, here comes that ghost-busting gang. I’ll see you later.”

  Marla rushed outside before the paranormal team could intercept her. Locating Vail took some time, but she managed to track him down after he finally answered his cell phone. She caught up to him inside the gym, where he was demonstrating how to lift free weights to Rochelle and her young cousins.

  “What are you doing here?” she said, raising an eyebrow. He wore tan shorts and a dark green polo shirt, an outfit that displayed his sinewy limbs to good advantage. “I thought you planned to speak to the manager and then head into town to the property appraiser’s office. It’s nearly time for the beach picnic.”

  “The city center is closed for the weekend, and I just missed Butler. He was busing a bunch of those workmen back home, or so I presume. I saw him leave with a group in a van.”

  “I can’t find Seto Mulch, and there’s something suspicious in his kitchen. I need you to take a look, if you can tear yourself away from your admirers.” She nodded at Rochelle, who stood in a corner giggling with her bikini-clad pals. Vail’s glance kept drifting in their direction.

  “It’s not what you think,” Vail said from the corner of his mouth. “She reminds me of Brianna. No way I’d ever let my daughter out of die house looking like that.”

  As though you ‘II have a choice. And if she reminds you of your daughter, why are you showing off your muscles? “Have you accomplished anything?” she asked in a tight voice, folding her arms across her chest.

  His appreciative smile at her evaporated her anger. “I saved myself a trip into town,” he said. “Apparently, a fire destroyed all the official records dating before 1970. That’s what one of those city council members told me.”

  “Oh no,” Marla moaned. But then her initial dismay gave way to hope. “Wait, it’s possible Butler keeps copies of the sale agreement and deed in the hotel files. Champagne told me some of the answers to our questions might be found in his office. Harvey said his boss keeps a set of blueprints there, too.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “What are you looking for?” Rochelle’s voice squeaked from behind, giving Marla a start. Her friends likewise crowded around the detective.

  “Things that could help us solve some of the mysteries about this place,” Vail said indulgently.

  “Want us to help?” the girl offered. “We’re going to lay out this afternoon, but we have tonight—there’s not much to do here in the evenings.”

  “You can go to the campfire,” Marla suggested.

  “That’s for little kids. We don’t need to hear ghost stories when the real thing is right around the corner. My mother says you’re going to explore the penthouse suite. Can we come?”

  “Definitely not,” Marla snapped.

  Vail leaned toward the cluster of teens. “I’ll give you an assignment,” he said in a hushed tone. “It’s really important, okay? Watch for Mr. Butler. Let us know when he gets back to the resort.”

  “He could’ve gone home for the weekend after he took those men into town,” Marla said on their way to the groundskeeper’s cottage. “I doubt Butler lives on the property. There isn’t any need, with Mulch serving as caretaker.”

  “So maybe he keeps his secrets hidden elsewhere.”

  “We can worry about him later. I’m more concerned about Seto. I suppose the old coot could still be around the resort. I did a quick search before meeting you, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Do you think he went with Butler?”

  “No, Butler was alone in the front seat,” Vail said.

  Marla glanced at him. “By the way, you handled Rochelle very well. She seems to fancy herself as an apprentice sleuth.”

  “I’m just hoping she stays out of harm’s way.”

  As soon as they arrived at the Bahamian-style house, Vail assumed his professional demeanor. A quick look inside brought a scowl to his face. He rejoined Marla by the exterior faucet and pointed to the rust-colored stains where the water had dried.

  “Someone tried to erase the evidence, but there’s been blood spilled,” he said. “I’d like to talk to the crew by the pool area before we report Mulch as missing.”

  Their hunt turned up gardeners planting pentas by the rear terrace. Speaking barely decipherable English, they didn’t provide much information. One of them spoke angrily in Spanish to the others, and then they all fell silent, concentrating on their work.

  “Marla, where have you been?” Anita summoned her daughter from the pool deck, where she sunned on a lounge chair, wearing a one-piece swimsuit and oversized sunglasses. “Come here and talk to your cousins from out west.” Her gesture included Vail. “Dalton, you and Yosef can talk shop. He’s a prosecuting attorney.”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less,” Dalton muttered in an undertone. Giving a resigned sigh, he marched over and shook the man’s hand after Anita made introductions..

  “This is some great shandeh, isn’t it?” Vail said in a loudly cheerful voice.

  “Shindig,” Marla corrected, nudging him. “Shandeh means shame. Shindig isn’t even a Yiddish word.”

  “Christ, what do I know?”

  Marla’s relatives dissolved into laughter.

  “Oy, az dos hartz iz ful, gai’en di oigen iber” Anita said, wiping tears from her cheeks. When the heart is full, the eyes overflow. Her mother’s glance told Marla that she appreciated Vail’s efforts to fit in.

  Her fiancé looked as though he’d swallowed his tongue. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a prior engagement. Please excuse me,” he said in a choked tone. “I’ll catch you at lunch.” He loped off before Marla could protest.

  “Ma, you embarrassed him,” she chided her mother.

  “I’m just trying to introduce him to the family. Some of your cousins have married goyim. It’s not as though intermarriage is so foreign to us.”

  “I still say you should have stayed with Stanley,” Julia remarked. “He was the perfect husband: a rich Jewish attorney.” As usual, her cousin’s lipstick could have used more precise lining. It made her mouth look too wide.

  “Stan was a jerk,” Marla shot back, feeling the sun heating her shoulders. The temperature must have warmed into the seventies. “By the way, Barry called this morning to wish me a happy Thanksgiving.”

  Anita wagged a finger at her. “Now there’s a good catch. Single, never been married, an optometrist. I’ll admit, he may not be as sexy as Dalton, but he’d be a steady fellow. Lust wears off after twenty years or so.”

  Marla was tired of her family debating her love life. “Have any of you seen Seto Mulch? He’s the old guy who hobbles around the resort, supervising everyone else.”

  “You don’t mean the manager?” said a fresh-faced blonde Marla didn’t recognize.

  “No, Butler has gone into town. I need to find Mr. Mulch.”

  “What’s so urgent?” Anita asked, applying coconut-scented sunscreen to her legs, still shapely for a woman in her sixties.

  “I wanted to question him about the original hotel construction.
You know how the tower elevator goes from twelve to fourteen? I’m wondering what happened to the thirteenth floor.”

  “People are superstitious, bubula. Lots of companies do the same thing in their office buildings.”

  “Have you taken the elevator? It takes longer to go between twelve and fourteen than between any of the other floors.”

  “That’s the creepiest ride I’ve ever been on,” whined Julia. “Alan wanted to tour the penthouse to see what it was like in Andrew’s day, but we’d only gone up a few floors in that rattling death trap when the weirdest thing happened. The lights went out, and I felt something brush against my cheek.”

  She leaned forward, giving a revealing view of her cleavage in a designer swimsuit. “I think it’s haunted by Andrew’s ghost.”

  “You want to see ghosts?” bellowed a voice behind Marla. She spun around to face Dr. Spector’s amused hazel eyes. His stark white hair went along with someone who encountered spooks for a living. “I’m going to take readings in Oleander Hall,” he announced. “Care to join me?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marla smelled the stale odor as soon as she entered Oleander Hall behind Dr. Spector. His stocky frame, laden with equipment dangling from his backpack, provided a bulwark against the wave of negative energy that seemed to emanate from the condemned wing. Marla thought she felt a presence charging the air as she followed him down the silent corridor toward the parlor where Andrew had met the two visitors. Her canvas shoes trod along the faded carpet while she imagined faint whisperings and creaking doors.

  “What’s that?” she asked in a hushed tone, hearing the soft thud of footsteps overhead.

  “We’re not alone in here,” Spector said.

  His insouciant voice offered little reassurance, and as Marla passed a rattling doorknob, she hastened her steps. “Are your people on the floor above us?”

  “Nope. Mr. Butler said this is where we should concentrate our efforts. We’ve caught an orb in the parlor as well as EVPs, so something is definitely here.” Halting in front of a pair of double oak doors, he pushed one open. “Come see for yourself.”