Murder in D Minor Boxed Set

by Virginia Smith

  “What was going on here last Friday and Saturday, anyway?” Jazzy asked.

  “Nothing Friday. All day Saturday the Waynesboro Fish & Game Association had a tournament out on the river. They held the registration and kickoff in the International Ballroom. We had about seventy-five people in there Saturday for coffee and donuts at six in the morning.”

  Derrick nodded. “I was there. Just a regular meeting, nothing unusual.”

  “We have meetings like that fairly often,” Bradley said, then went on with a touch of acid. “Nobody actually stays in this hotel, but they like to meet here.”

  “Well, something unusual must have happened that night, or the security disk wouldn’t have been taken.” Jazzy’s toe tapped against the floor as she thought about those missing security disks. And the office key. And the extra cards encoded to room 4057.

  She spoke slowly, organizing her thoughts as the words rolled off her tongue. “Okay, let’s think about this. The killer would have to know how to use the card machine. That points to an employee of this hotel.”

  “Or maybe someone who is observant,” Derrick said. “All he’d have to do is stand there and watch a couple of times to figure it out.”

  Jazzy conceded the point with a nod and went on to the next. “He knows where the key to the manager’s office is kept, and again, hotel employees know that.”

  Bradley winced, but nodded.

  Jazzy continued. “He has access to the key, which means he can get behind the counter without being noticed. Again, an employee.” She looked at Bradley. “Unless there’s ever a time when the front desk is left unattended?”

  Bradley started to shake his head, then stopped. “They’re not supposed to ever leave the front desk unattended, but at night there’s only one clerk on duty. The poor guy has to go to the bathroom sometime, doesn’t he? But that’s why we have the security camera running all night.”

  A slow smile spread across Derrick’s face. “This is starting to makes sense. The killer comes in here late Friday night, waits until the clerk goes to the bathroom, swipes a couple of keys for a room that he knows is going to be empty all week and takes the key to the manager’s office out of the drawer.”

  Jazzy shook her head. “No, that’s not right. Why take the key then? He couldn’t have gotten Friday night’s security disk until it was out of the machine or Bradley would have noticed the next morning, right?”

  Bradley nodded, but Derrick raised a hand.

  “I’m not through yet. During the day on Saturday the guy makes a copy of the office key, and then Saturday night he again waits until the clerk goes to the bathroom to put the original back.”

  Understanding dawned for Jazzy. “So he had a spare key to get into this office—” she punched the desk with a finger “—any time he wanted all last week.”

  “That’s right.” Derrick switched his gaze to Bradley. “But that scenario still points to an employee.”

  Bradley sat with his eyes fixed on the desk in front of him. Slowly the creases cleared from his forehead. He sucked in a noisy breath. “Wait a minute. I know somebody else who was here last Friday night.”

  “Who?” Jazzy demanded.

  The hotel manager stared at her with unseeing eyes for a long moment. Then his gaze focused and he shook his head. “No, I’m wrong. It doesn’t make sense. I’m trying too hard to come up with someone who isn’t an employee.” He shot a pleading look first toward Derrick and then toward Jazzy. “I just can’t believe any of my employees would commit such a terrible act.”

  The hard stare Derrick fixed on Bradley made Jazzy glad she wasn’t the recipient. “If you know something, or even suspect someone, you need to tell the sheriff.” His voice held more than a hint of warning.

  But Bradley shook his head. “I’m not going to set the sheriff on …” He snapped his lips shut on whatever he was about to say, then went on. “On an innocent and unsuspecting person who doesn’t deserve to be questioned by the police.”

  The phone on his desk beeped once. He punched a button, and Emmy’s voice filled the small room.

  “Mr. Goggins, a guest out here is asking to see you. She says there’s not enough light in her bathroom—”

  “Not nearly enough,” insisted an obstinate female voice in the background. “How anyone can be expected to get ready for a pageant in that flat light is beyond me.”

  Bradley’s eyelids flickered shut as he inhaled a long, slow breath through his nose. “Please tell the guest I’ll be right with her.” Hands flat on the desk, he pushed himself out of the chair. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.”

  “But if you—”

  He thrust a palm toward Jazzy to silence her protest. Frustrated, she jumped to her feet and preceded him out of the office.

  Back in the hotel lobby, Jazzy made for the back hallway, but Derrick stopped her.

  “I’ll walk you back to your room, but first I’d like to check on Old Sue. She’s been out there quite a while.”

  Jazzy gasped. “Poor Old Sue! I totally forgot about her.”

  They headed for the entrance and passed two giggling girls with their hair in curlers. Probably contestants for the Little Princess pageant. Jazzy followed Derrick, but when the doors swished open, Jazzy stopped dead in her tracks. She brought a hand to her mouth to cover a laugh.

  Old Sue, well-trained and faithful, sat vigil in the exact spot Derrick had left her. But apparently some of the pageant kids, presumably the girls they’d just passed, had noticed the docile animal and decided to pretty her up. Someone had fastened a gigantic yellow hair bow with red polka dots onto her collar, and a smaller violet one at the base of her tail. A red plastic barrette clasped the longish hair above each ear, and glitter sparkled on the spotted white fur down the length of her back.

  Openmouthed horror stole over Derrick’s features as he stared down at his hunting dog. “What happened to you, girl?”

  The dog’s tail went into action at the sight of her master, sending a shower of glitter onto the sidewalk. At the look on Derrick’s face, Jazzy couldn’t contain her mirth. She doubled over, resting her arms on her thighs as laughter overtook her.

  “Surely you don’t think this is funny.” Derrick gave her a pained look. “How can you laugh at her humiliation?”

  He started to remove the bow, but Jazzy stopped him.

  “Wait! I’ve got to get a picture first.”

  Still giggling, she reached into her jeans pocket and dug out her cell phone. She flipped the lid open and pressed the button to activate the camera.

  “Smile, Old Sue.”

  The phone chuck-chucked as it snapped a picture. The sound triggered a memory, and Jazzy froze. A white-hot thread of alarm wove its way through the fabric of her mind.

  She whirled toward Derrick, eyes wide.

  “What?” he asked. “Is something wrong with your phone?”

  She shook her head, her breath coming quick. “I totally forgot something really important.”

  She punched the buttons on her cell phone to bring up the pictures stored in memory. The last shot she’d taken was in the hotel lobby when they were checking in.

  “There.” She studied the tiny screen. Hard to be sure, but a familiar if blurry figure stood behind Caitlin’s frowning face. Jazzy shoved the phone toward Derrick. “I took that picture yesterday.”

  Her icy fingers trembled, and Derrick steadied her hand with his warm one. “It’s not a very attractive shot of Caitlin, is it?”

  “Not that! Look in the background. Do you know who that is?”

  Derrick shook his head.

  “Well, I do. We’ve got to call Sheriff Maguire.” The blood seeped from Jazzy’s brain as realization set in, leaving her cold and light-headed. “I don’t think that intruder was after Liz last night. I think the intended victim was me.”

  SIXTEEN

  “That is Irene Baldwin.” Jazzy plastered on her most stubborn glare and directed it toward Sheriff Maguire. “I think she’s the kill
er.”

  The sheriff stood in the center of their suite and sucked his cheeks in as he stared at the tiny screen on her cell phone. His mouth took on the shape of goldfish lips. “It’s not a very clear picture. And what’s that in the other corner?”

  The others stayed back, unwilling to come between Jazzy and Sheriff Maguire. Liz sat on one end of the sofa while Derrick perched on the arm at the other end. He had brought Old Sue inside through the back entrance, and Caitlin knelt on the floor beside the dog, plucking glitter out of her fur.

  “It’s one of those big potted plants or something. The screen is too small to see well. But that’s Irene.” Jazzy wanted to stomp her foot, but instead of a blatant display of temper she settled for tapping the screen with an urgent finger. “I recognize her. And right about the time I snapped that photo was when she barged through the line to go up to the front and complain about her room. She’d probably been upstairs killing Mr. Kirkland minutes before then.”

  “With her daughter in tow?” Liz sounded skeptical.

  Jazzy whirled to level a glare on her friend. “Maybe she told her daughter to wait in the lobby while she checked out the room. Or maybe Heidi did see something. You saw how upset she looked. She was all flushed.”

  “But how would Irene get Mr. Kirkland up to that room?” Caitlin asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s his job to figure out.” Jazzy pointed at the sheriff, whose expression remained stoic.

  Liz spoke with more restraint than she normally used. “Tell me again why she would kill him.”

  Jazzy was about to answer when Derrick spoke up. “When I saw her this morning she had Jazzy cornered.” He looked at the sheriff. “She did seem awfully determined that her daughter win this pageant.”

  Jazzy shot him a smile, then continued to plead her case with Sheriff Maguire. “Maybe she saw me snap this picture and she broke in here looking for my cell phone instead of Caitlin’s camera. Liz and I both have dark hair—maybe she thought she was attacking me instead of Liz. When Liz woke up and started struggling, she saw she had the wrong girl and left.”

  Sheriff Maguire continued to stare at the phone, but his expression became thoughtful. Encouraged, Jazzy plowed on with her theory. “If the desk clerk checked her into room 4057 first and gave her two key cards, she had access to the room. Has anybody told you how long it was between the time she first checked in and when she came back down and demanded that they change her room?”

  Caitlin didn’t give him a chance to answer. “If she just checked in yesterday, how come the desk clerk said two of those key cards were made last week?”

  Sheriff Maguire’s eyebrows arched expectantly, waiting for Jazzy to answer. Thoughts shuffled through her brain as she tried to come up with a plausible explanation. “Okay, what about this? Irene came to the hotel last Friday night and made the keys.” As another puzzle piece fit into place, she snapped her fingers toward Derrick. “Bradley must have seen her here Friday. That’s why he was reluctant to tell us who he suspected. He wouldn’t want to accuse a hotel guest unless he was really sure. Then, when she actually checked in yesterday, she was shocked to be put in the same room she’d just committed a murder in. Or maybe—”

  Sheriff Maguire cut her off with a scowl. “I understand your concern, Miss Delaney, but there is no compelling reason to believe this woman killed Kirkland. Nor does it seem she had the opportunity or the motive. No matter what you and Derrick say, I can’t believe a little girl’s beauty pageant is a strong enough inducement to commit murder.”

  “Parents will do all kinds of unreasonable things to see their children succeed,” Jazzy insisted. “Don’t you remember that case about the cheerleader a few years ago? A mother killed another mother because she thought it would upset the woman’s daughter so much she would drop out of the tryouts. Then her daughter would have a better chance of getting on the squad.”

  Sheriff Maguire stood firm. “That was a unique situation, and that woman was obviously deranged. You’re grasping, Miss Delaney.”

  Jazzy opened her mouth to protest, but then she closed it again. She was grasping. She realized it. But every time she closed her eyes, the gruesome image of Josh Kirkland’s body sent a shudder rippling down her spine. A voice kept whispering in her head that Irene Baldwin was the murderer.

  And that Jazzy might be the next victim.

  She just needed to figure out how the woman had accomplished the act. If she could come up with a plausible scenario, the sheriff would have to take her seriously.

  Sheriff Maguire snapped the cover of her cell phone shut. “Regardless, I’m going to have to confiscate your phone. We’ll let the experts have a go at that picture and see what they can come up with. Deputy Farmer will give you a receipt.”

  “But I don’t have a land line at my apartment,” Jazzy protested. “How long will it be before I get it back?”

  The sheriff pocketed the phone and lifted a shoulder. “Shouldn’t be more than a week or two. Same as Miss Saylor’s camera.”

  She opened her mouth to complain, but closed it again in the face of the sheriff’s stony expression.

  “Fine,” she mumbled.

  She only hoped Irene found out that Sheriff Maguire had her cell phone with the picture on it. If Irene knew that, she just might let Jazzy make it through the next twenty-four hours—alive.

  SEVENTEEN

  The sheriff announced his intention to question Bradley, and left the suite. Derrick closed and latched the door behind Sheriff Maguire and Matt, who would relieve the other deputy at the end of the hotel corridor. He turned to find three anxious pairs of eyes fixed on him.

  His obligation to these girls weighed heavily on his conscience. If he hadn’t been so determined to find a classical music group to lend a touch of elegance to his little sister’s wedding, they would be safe in their homes up in Lexington. He’d dragged them down here and plunged them into the middle of a dangerous situation that had already hurt one of them and had scared all of them nearly to death.

  Misgiving wormed through his gut, leaving an aftermath of fear in the trail it furrowed. He wasn’t at all sure this ordeal was over with. If only he could stick around … but this was his sister’s wedding day. He’d already missed most of it, and he had duties to perform. He needed to get over to the house and be the big brother.

  Lord, I feel responsible for them. What can I do to keep them safe?

  An idea sprouted to full bloom in his mind. Whether from a divine source or his own need to protect these three, he didn’t know. But he decided to go with it.

  “Okay, listen up,” he announced. “I’ve got to go play chauffeur for a bride and a whole passel of bridesmaids. But I’m going to leave Old Sue here. I’ll come back at five o’clock to pick you up and take you to the church. Until then, I want you to stay together.”

  “Old Sue is a guard dog?” Jazzy eyed the animal, skepticism painted across her face. Aware that she was being talked about, Old Sue swept the floor with her tail, looking like anything but a fierce guard dog.

  “She’s never had to be,” Derrick admitted. “But I think if she saw someone being attacked, especially someone she knows I like, she’d defend them. I really think it’s best if she stays here with you.”

  Two heads nodded obediently, but Jazzy’s spine stiffened and her eyes flashed across the room in his direction.

  Honestly, that woman was as obstinate as they came.

  “You don’t have to leave your dog to guard us,” she snapped. “We’re surrounded by deputies. We have plenty of protection without Old Sue.”

  Worry drew lines across Caitlin’s forehead. “What about when you go down to the pageant, Jazzy? If a deputy goes with you, that leaves us with one door not guarded. And if we all go, that leaves the suite unguarded. Someone could sneak in here and wait for us to return.”

  “Old Sue will wait here while you’re gone,” Derrick said.

  Jazzy ignored him and whirled on Caitlin. “Now who’s being
paranoid? Go ahead, Liz. Tell her we don’t need the dog.”

  Derrick hid a smile when Liz gave Jazzy an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, Jazz. Too much weird stuff is happening. I’d feel better with the mutt here.”

  Derrick watched the struggle on Jazzy’s face. He had never met someone so all-fired eager to reject an offer of help. Maybe her determination to remain self-reliant came from being an only child. Wherever it came from, it was time she let go of it and accept what little protection he could give her.

  He stepped forward and tried to place a hand on her arm, but she twisted away. His limp hand fell to his side. “Would you listen to me for one minute, please? I’ve been thinking about something that apparently hasn’t occurred to you.”

  The hard line of her jaw slackened as a wary shadow darkened her eyes. “What?”

  “All that stuff about the key cards and knowing which rooms would be empty and all that? I don’t care what Bradley Goggins says, it all points to a hotel employee.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So what if Bradley is right? What if the killer isn’t one of his employees?” Derrick lowered his voice. “What if it’s him?”

  “No!” Jazzy shook her head so violently her short hair whipped around her ears. “That’s ridiculous. Why would he want to kill Josh Kirkland?”

  Derrick lifted a shoulder. “Kirkland had a pretty strong voice on the festival committee, and you heard Bradley. He’s obviously gone up against the committee a time or two, and he’s bitter about it. Maybe the two of them had words and things got out of hand.”

  Liz spoke up. “And then he dumped barbecue sauce on the body to throw suspicion onto one of the competitors, just like the sheriff said.”

  “Could be.” He faced Jazzy squarely. “He definitely had access to the room, the keys, the security disks. Everything. Personally, I think he’s a more likely suspect than that pageant mother.”

  Jazzy wrapped her arms around her middle. Her knuckles whitened as they gripped her arms. “I don’t believe it.” But her voice sounded less certain than it had a moment before.