Christina Freeburn - Faith Hunter 03 - Embellished to Death

by Christina Freeburn

  “Of course,” the clerk said. “I’ll just need an ID.”

  I nudged Steve. “He’ll give you his. Mine is in the truck. I’ll check into my room later.”

  “Detective,” a young officer rushed inside. “We still haven’t identified the victim. The morg—”

  Bell tilted his head toward me and held up a hand to quiet the officer. “We’ll clear that up soon.”

  “No one knows her,” the officer said

  No one? A knot formed in my throat. I decided to try and help a little. “Some croppers come as a single and not as part of a group. Lydia Clement or Marsha Smith could give you a copy of the registration forms.”

  “The forms indicate who came alone?” Bell asked.

  I nodded. “Groups split room costs. And croppers will write on their forms who they’d like to share a table with and have around them. The organizers do their best to accommodate all requests. They’d know who came as singles.”

  Bell handed the officer back his handcuffs. “Thank you for the information, Miss Hunter. That’ll help us speed up the process.”

  “Your keys.” The clerk held out a white sleeve.

  I felt someone hovering behind me. I glanced over my shoulder.

  Ellie gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to bother you right now, but we still can’t get into the conference center. No one’s seen Lydia or knows where Marsha is.”

  “Go on.” Steve held the card in the air. “I’ll be in the room.”

  I hesitated. Steve suffered a head injury. He shouldn’t be left alone.

  He removed one of the room keys and placed it in my back pocket. He brushed a kiss over my lips. “Come check on me once you help them.”

  “All right.” I hated leaving him, but we did need to get into the room. Hopefully, Gussie Buford and Darlene Johnson would show up soon. They’d get the store ready for me while I cared for Steve.

  “If we split up we might find someone who can let us in sooner,” Ellie said. “Pauline is checking out the fitness center, and I told her I’d run down to the convenience store near the entrance to the interstate. Maybe Lydia or Marsha went there.”

  “Lydia asked me to let the manager know she was running late. He must have a set of keys to let us in.”

  “The bar and grill is down the hall,” the clerk said, pointing the way. “You might find Marsha there.”

  The sneer in the woman’s voice caught my attention. “Did you see her there?”

  “I haven’t.” The clerk pressed her lips together.

  That was all she was going to say about that, but I was smart enough to hear the unsaid drama.

  “Thanks.” I hurried down the hallway, which fortunately was short. We needed to get in the conference center. If the store was opened late, no biggie, but if the scrappers lost cropping time we would never hear the end of it. Plus it might affect the reputation of the Cropportunity events and any extra income opportunities for Scrap This.

  I almost missed the bar as a tiny wooden sign was all that announced the location. The door was the same style and painted the same color as the doors for the restrooms. I tugged it open. One man sat in the corner typing away on a laptop, and another man wearing khakis and a white polo shirt with a logo of an inverted V resembling a mountain range talked to the bartender. I saw the word “manager” on his nametag but couldn’t make out his name.

  “I ain’t switching shifts so I can babysit a bunch of women.” The bartender swiped a cloth across the counter. He used the back of his hand to shove a lock of blond hair from his eyes. “Besides, I’m already here and clocked in.”

  “Abby isn’t physically able to help a woman to her room if it becomes necessary,” the manager said. “We have enough explaining to do to the owner.”

  I kept back and waited for an opportunity to break into the conversation. Should I tell him Detective Bell was looking for him, or let the detective introduce himself?

  The bartender raised his hands and shook his head. “No way am I going to do that. I’m not taking a chance of some woman accusing me of assault or something. Tell Abby to call you if someone needs to be carried up to their room again.”

  “You’ll be doing the late shift on Saturday.” The manager pointed at the bartender and spun around. “I don’t care how it messes up your plans.”

  I hadn’t anticipated the manger making so sudden an escape. I had crept up so close, the man bumped into me. I staggered backwards. Flailing my arms about, I tried to keep myself upright.

  The manager snagged my arm. He smiled at me but it was more of a questioning one than apologetic. “My pardon, ma’am, I didn’t see you behind me.”

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve let you know I was here. I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t.” The manager forced out a smile.

  The bartender snorted and continued cleaning.

  “If you’ll excuse me… ” He started out the door.

  “Lydia asked me to find you. She and Marsha have been detained. We need to get into the conference center to set up for the crop retreat.”

  The manager rummaged around in his pockets. “Detained, that’s a new word for it.”

  “Mr. Anderson, I need to speak with you.” Detective Bell walked over to us. “Are you aware there was a fatal accident in your parking lot?”

  “Yes.” A nerve in the man’s jaw twitched. “I was trying to get some information about one of our guests. I have a feeling she might be the cause of the accident.”

  I shuffled back a few feet. I couldn’t leave until I got the key.

  “Do you mind, Miss Hunter?” Bell fixed a police officer evil-eye on me.

  The manager handed a key ring over to me. “You can open up the conference center. Please return those to the front desk when you’re done.”

  “I will. Thanks.” I jangled the keys.

  “Make sure you do, Miss Hunter. I’d hate to have to conduct a search for missing keys,” Detective Bell said.

  I opted to go through the building to avoid the heat, and stay away from the crime scene out front. A police officer was talking to two women. They both shook their heads.

  I pushed the small lever on the glass door and entered into the long narrow hallway. My gaze rested on the sign. Great. Hotel security locked the door at midnight. Either we’d have to walk outside or else make sure someone was stationed at the door as cropping continued all night long. Usually, a wardrobe change from comfy day clothes to PJs happened sometime after dinner. I’d hate for a cropper to get locked out.

  Dim recessed lights lined the ceiling from one set of doors to the next. The walls were painted a soft gray and the carpet was a deep red with black filigree accents. The place looked dark, matching my mood.

  Hair tingled on the back of my neck. What was it about this hallway that gave me the creeps?

  Maybe it was the design that combined all the what-not-to-do’s women are instructed on from a very young age. Don’t go down dark places. If alone, walk in an area others can spot you. There were no windows in the hallway, just rows of doors. Were those doors leading to offices or storage closets also lacking windows and lights? I swallowed. Stop it. This hotel was filled with women. Croppers. Nothing to fear.

  Except for an identity thief—and a murderer.

  The driver of the hit-and-run vehicle might return to the scene of the crime to root out any witnesses. And if the murderer didn’t kill their correct target, they might come back to get it right. I hoped Bob, or the police, found out the woman’s identity soon. It would be hard enough to shut down an identity thief’s scam; stopping a hired killer seemed out of our league.

  Voices carried from down the hallway.

  Two people huddled in a small alcove area before the other set of doors. Tw
o wooden signs hung from the ceiling. One was a stick man wearing a top hat pointing to the left, and the other a stick woman in a flowing dress pointing to the right.

  A woman with wet, undistinguishable colored hair wearing a shapeless gray tunic paired with gray leggings, waved her arms around, agitated about something. The shadows in the hallway kept her half-hidden.

  “It’ll be fine.” Lydia Clement shifted her grip on a large tote.

  I crept closer, hoping to catch Lydia’s attention.

  Lydia drew as close to the woman as she could without actually joining her in the shift. Her own gray and white outfit, though snazzier and dressier, almost blended right into the other woman’s. “We’ll talk later.”

  I inched as close as I dared.

  Harsh sounding whispers floated back and forth between the women. Both heads tilted toward each other, muscles bunched up. The tension in the other woman could be from the humongous tote tugging down her shoulder.

  A commotion came from the vicinity of the crop registration area. Even the heavy glass doors did little to block out the sound of the irate women.

  Lydia’s head jerked toward the sound. When her gaze came back to her conversation, she spotted me and frowned. The tote she carried plunked to the floor.

  The other woman skedaddled into the bathroom.

  “Can I help you?” Lydia crossed her arms. The dim light and her pale clothes gave her the appearance of an angry poltergeist.

  “A woman got killed in front of the resort. The police don’t know her name yet.”

  With eyes closed, Lydia rubbed her temples, her thin fingers moving in a circular fashion. She slanted her head toward the door. “I heard. What a terrible thing. Poor Marsha witnessed the whole thing and is beside herself. I really hope I can keep her focused on the crop.”

  I stared at Lydia, not knowing what to say. She looked at me oddly. My silence was causing concern.

  She rubbed her left temple with one hand and her stomach with the other. “I’m going to get an ulcer. I know I shouldn’t tell you this but Marsha had a drinking problem in the past. I’m afraid what happened might send her back down that path.”

  “It was a horrible thing to witness. I can find you a helper if Marsha isn’t up to it.” I’d hate to lose Gussie or Darlene’s help this weekend, but Lydia needed them more them me.

  “I appreciate the offer but we’ll manage,” Lydia said. “I think it’s better to keep Marsha’s mind focused on something. It’s thinking that will get her in trouble.”

  I knew that problem all too well.

  A low buzz echoed in the hallway.

  Lydia pulled out a smartphone, swiped her finger across the screen and started typing away. “Great. The manager’s been trying to get a hold of me all morning. So are the vendors.”

  The conference center was still locked. “The manager gave me a set of keys. I’ll go let everyone into the building.”

  The bathroom door crashed open, nearly flattening Lydia to the wall. A flustered Marsha, who smelled like a bottle of mouthwash, rushed out. Her straw colored hair now in a messy ponytail. “The police want to talk to me. Again. But I need to redo the seating chart.”

  Lydia sighed. “You told me you had everything under control. The vendors are stuck outside.”

  Marsha blushed and avoided my gaze. “No, they’re not. I let them in right after— I was late. I’m sorry.”

  “Um hmmm.” Lydia tapped the toe of her high heel on the carpet.

  “I got a text…” Marsha fumbled her hand around in her oversized tote bag then withdrew a smartphone. “Some of the cropping ladies have already arrived and are setting up. I need to make sure they’re at the right tables. If people come later and can’t sit with their friends as promised, I’m afraid there will be trouble.”

  “It’s in the briefcase with all of the registrations, and also on the computer. I made sure only four documents are on the computer. Don’t tell me you left the computer in Ohio.”

  “No. I have it. I just couldn’t get into the computer.”

  “Let me guess, for some reason you couldn’t remember the password.” Lydia narrow-eyed her partner. “You promised there’d be no drink—”

  “You really think this is a good idea now?” Marsha flung a glare at me. “And for the record, I’m not drinking.”

  It sounded like the car accident wasn’t the only thing encouraging Marsha to head for the ledge. Perfect exit time.

  “I need to go set up the store.” I had a particular set up in mind so the attendees had plenty of space to shop and we didn’t encroach into the cropping space. Plus, I didn’t want to be a party to the drama between Marsha and Lydia. I had one potential drama to stop, and listening to them was keeping me from helping Bob find the identity thief.

  The hotel manager walked toward us. “Ms. Clement, I need to speak with you about the retreat account.”

  “Do you mind if we go somewhere private?” Lydia smiled at the man. “Croppers have already arrived. I’d rather not discuss business in front of them.”

  The man bounced the back of a clipboard off his palm. “For now, no. I also need to check on the catering for dinner; we can talk in the kitchen area. The kitchen staff won’t arrive for another two hours.”

  For now? My interested piqued. No. No. No. Sometimes I wished I could turn my questioning brain off. I had a criminal to find and I didn’t need to add Lydia’s financial woes onto my list of items to worry about. Of course, her financial troubles might affect Scrap This and might be the result of the thief having found a victim. I’d let Bob know. He could work on that angle. He had sources and ways to get financial information.

  Lydia elbowed Marsha. “Finalize the seating chart while I talk with the manager.”

  Marsha stepped away and rubbed at her side. She watched her business partner and the hotel manager walk away. “I told her I was. Some people hate letting go of any amount of control.”

  “With this being the first retreat you all are putting on, I can see why she’s a little jumpy.” I glanced up and down the hallway. “I saw your abandoned car…”

  Marsha played with the ends of damp hair. “How do you know it was my car?”

  “A friend looked at the registration. I gathered up a few items that had fallen onto the road.”

  “Thanks. Did you get everything out?”

  I shook my head. “My friend and I were afraid to stay there long. Our trailer was creating some rubbernecking.”

  “Thanks for grabbing what you did. I’ll go get the rest of the stuff right now. I’m sure it’s important.”

  “If you need some help…” I trailed off as Marsha already headed for the door. I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take Marsha to realize she needed a ride to her car. Oh well, if a partner couldn’t loan you a car, who could?

  FOUR

  “Faith, I need a favor. I need your room.” Bob jumped right into his request.

  No finagling. No sweet talk. So, the brothers shared some characteristics. “My room?”

  “Yes. Your room.” Bob glanced around then drew me to his side. “I have strong reasons to believe the woman I’m looking for will be attending this event.”

  “She’s not the accident victim?”

  “Still don’t know. At least that’s what I heard from my sources in the ER. They’ll call me if that changes. I have to operate like they’re separate people.”

  “What does the thief look like?”

  A pained expression crossed Bob’s face. “Not sure exactly as she has as many appearances as she does names.”

  “What makes you think this woman will show up here?”

  “I’ve told you more than I should already. The resort is booked. I need to stay here. Can I have your room?”

  “You s
hould tell Lydia and Marsha what’s going on. I’m sure they can get you in.”

  Bob shook his head. “The less people who know, the better. After three months, it looks like I’ve finally caught up to her. Once I know it’s her, I’ll notify law enforcement. I can’t have her run again.”

  A metal clang caught my attention. I watched a vendor wrestle a large luggage cart through the doors. The boxes had labels of a well-loved stamp company, and clear boxes were filled with patterned paper.

  Croppers used these products to turn their stories into fully embellished pages showcasing their lives for their family, friends, and others scrappers to enjoy. Lives were being displayed this weekend. Names. Hometowns. Families. Anxiety rippled through me. Crop retreats were a time for women to let loose and have a weekend focusing on a hobby they enjoy. We had to find out who this woman was before someone at the retreat had their life snatched away and used.

  Bob touched my elbow, drawing my attention back to him. “Your room?”

  “Where would I stay?”

  “With Steve. You have a room. He has a room. If you guys room together then it frees up a room for me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know Steve and I have separate rooms?”

  Bob shrugged and offered a sheepish smile.

  Ted had a big mouth. And so did I for hinting around the status of my relationship when Ted asked how things were going with Steve. I should’ve stuck with “none of your dang business.” I wanted to get advice, yet didn’t want to get advice from Ted, as it seemed like a betrayal. I had little option for whom to confide in as Ted was the only other person – besides me and Adam – who knew about my previous marriage.

  “From what I know, Steve is a standup guy.” Bob patted my shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll behave himself. All the rooms have two double beds.”

  “How am I going to explain this to him? He’ll need to know what’s going on.” I crossed my arms and tilted my chin up.