by anna snow
The parking lot was more than half full of cars, which didn't surprise me at all. From the information I'd found on the Trinity Grove website, although summer was winding down, families were still flocking to the cottages and the lake beyond to relax and cool down for the remainder of the season. Those who couldn't get a cabin stayed at the motel until one opened up, or they found a place to set up camp by the lake.
I stepped out of the car and climbed the five steps leading up to the office door.
A small bell jangled overhead as I entered, and I was greeted with sunny yellow walls and sky-blue trim that matched the exterior. The rubber soles of my tennis shoes squeaked against the tile floor as I approached the check-in desk. I reached to ring the service bell, but before I had the chance a portly woman of about sixty (and I'm being kind here) met me on the other side of the counter. Her eyes were the same shade of blue as the room's trim, and her hair sat in a halo of tight, salt-and-pepper curls atop her head.
Her pink flowered muumuu was a fashion statement all its own.
"Welcome to Trinity Grove. I'm Melba. Are you checking in?" she asked in a voice that sounded like she'd smoked two packs a day since she was twelve.
I decided to take the direct approach. I hadn't been getting much sleep, and I wanted to at least try for a few hours tonight, which meant getting home before dawn.
"This is a lovely motel that you have here, but no, I'm not checking in. My name is Barb Jackson, and I'm a private investigator with Jackson Investigations."
"A private eye? Lordy, what's happened that a private eye has to come all the way out here?" she said with a strong southern accent that I suspected was as fake as her mile-long, ruby-red fingernails.
She fanned herself with her hand, and those same fake nails glinted in the overhead light.
I had the image of an ancient, plump, cigarette-stained Scarlet O'Hara flit through my mind and did my best to suppress a shudder.
"I'm looking into the death of Lydia Hatchett," I said. "She was murdered about two weeks ago in her home in the city."
"I heard about that on the news. Sad stuff that was." She shook her head and looked the proper amount distressed, but it seemed so rehearsed. Stiff, as though she'd practiced the speech in the mirror a dozen times before.
I immediately didn't trust her. There was something about Melba the Night Manager that set me on edge.
She was fake, but I decided to play along just to see what she had to say.
"Yes, very sad. What's even sadder is that the police may be accusing the wrong person of her murder."
"Why, that's terrible." She pressed her hand to her chest.
What a drama queen. I fought against rolling my eyes.
I nodded. "But I have reason to believe you can help."
"Me? What on earth can I do?"
"Motel receipts were found that put Lydia Hatchett right here at your motel at least once a week over the past few months."
"No, that's not possible. I would certainly remember her."
"Are you sure?" I pressed. I reached into my purse and pulled out a small picture of Lydia that Mandy had printed out along with one of the receipts that I'd nabbed from Lydia's nightstand and held them up to show them to her.
"You see?" I slid the receipt across the counter toward her and pointed to the address along the top of the paper. "This receipt is proof that Lydia Hatchett was, in fact, here. The room was paid for with cash. Take a look at the pic and think about it again."
The aloof expression Melba wore quickly became guarded as she peered at the picture and motel receipt.
"N-now that you mention it," she stuttered. "I recognize her. Her hair was different when she came in here, I think. That must be what threw me off.
Sure. Whatever you say, geriatric Scarlet.
"Mm-hmm. How often did she come in, and was she alone when she did?"
Melba hesitated a second then sighed. "She was always alone. She'd come in once a week, sometimes more."
Now that I'd provided proof that I knew about Lydia visiting the motel, Melba was a veritable fountain of information.
"How long did she stay during those visits?"
Melba bit her lip. "She'd rent the rooms for anywhere from one to three nights."
"Rooms? You mean she rented more than one at a time?"
Why would she need to rent out more than one room?
Melba looked like she'd just swallowed an entire lemon but nodded her head anyway. "Yes. Sometimes she'd rent three rooms. All kings. Never doubles unless that's all we had available."
"That didn't strike you as odd?" I asked. This certainly didn't fit the criteria of your average run-of-the-mill affair. Why would Lydia rent out more than one room? What was she doing?
"It wasn't my business, so I never asked." Melba sniffed indelicately.
"Did you ever notice anyone coming or going from those rooms except Mrs. Hatchett?"
"No," she answered a little too quickly. "I don't watch the customers coming and going. What they do in those rooms is none of my business."
"That's understandable," I agreed. "When was the last time she came in?"
"About two months ago."
"Two months?"
Melba nodded. "She said she enjoyed our rooms, but it was time to move on to a cabin. I saw her talking to Melvin Harris in the parking lot the last night she was here."
"Who's Melvin Harris?" I asked.
Melba waved a hand toward the front window. "He's a contractor who owns a bunch of cabins out on the lake. He's always selling existing cabins or building new ones to out-of-towners to use as their summer homes."
"Do you happen to know if he had any cabins available at the time he talked to her?"
Melba's frown deepened, and I knew I'd just about worn out my welcome. She huffed. "I only know of one that was still empty at the time, but I'm not sure she'd have been interested in it."
"Why is that?"
"It sits a lot farther back along the lake than the other cottages. The place is nice, but it's not exactly lakefront, which is what everyone is looking for. You have to walk a little ways to get to the lake from the cabin."
"Do you have a number for Mr. Harris available?" I looked on the counter for a stack of business cards but didn't see any. If this Melvin Harris built cabins, one would think he'd be advertising to the tourists, but then again maybe Melba didn't allow his business cards in the motel to keep from losing business when tourists decided to buy or rent his cabins instead of staying at the motel.
She narrowed her eyes at me then reached under the counter and pulled out a mammoth purse. She plopped it down on the countertop and fished around inside for a few minutes. "I'm sorry, but I must've misplaced it."
I wanted to call bullfunky but controlled myself. She was hiding something. I just didn't know what.
"No matter," I said with a big, toothy smile. "I'm a private investigator. Finding information about people is what I do."
Her already-sour expression darkened even further.
The bell above the door jangled, and the sounds of footsteps and whining kids sounded behind me, signaling that it was time for me to go.
"Thanks for your help. If you can think of anything else, please give me a call." I slid my business card across the counter. Melba picked it up and shoved it into her bag. I didn't expect to hear from her again. I was actually surprised that I'd gotten as much out of her as I had.
I skirted past a set of parents and their three wiggling, squealing kids and hurried through the well-lit parking lot to my car. As soon as I started the ignition, I pulled out of the motel parking lot with zeal.
I didn't get the answers I'd wanted. Instead, I'd walked away with a buttload more questions than when I'd started. Lydia Hatchett was shaping up to be a mystery all her own.
Why in the heck had Lydia rented more than one room at a time, and why so frequently? Why, all of a sudden, was she interested in buying a cabin? Jason said she was a city girl. Buying a cabin defini
tely wasn't like her if he was telling the truth.
The only reason I could come up with as to why she was out in the Grove was maybe she was afraid if she did whatever she was up to in the city, someone would recognize her or become suspicious of her actions, but again, what was she doing to cause suspicion? Taking out more than one room was something more than a simple affair.
I sped through the darkness down the road back toward the city with a million new questions rolling through my mind.
But the big question was, would I find the answers in time to save Jason?
* * *
I had gotten very little sleep and was up at the butt crack of dawn. The case was weighing heavily on my mind. Lydia Hatchett was turning out to be quite the mystery. I'd never been able to let go of a puzzle before I'd solved it, so my brain had been running nonstop since I took on the case.
I brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair, and slid on my favorite pair of tennis shoes.
I had a ton of things to do, starting with tracking down Melvin Harris. I needed to know if Lydia bought a cabin and, if so, check the place out. With any luck, I'd make it in and out of the cabin with less drama than when I'd investigated the Hatchett residence.
Mickey twined himself around my feet as I gave him some fresh food and water. I gave him a quick pat as he shoved his face into his bowl. I grabbed my purse and hurried out the door.
It was a long shot, but if Lydia had in fact purchased a cabin from Melvin, then there was a chance, a small chance but still a chance, that he might possibly know how often Lydia had visited the cabin and what she might have used it for. As far as I was concerned, she wasn't using it as a vacation house.
I got into my car and pulled out onto the street.
I didn't bother going in to the office. I wanted to get as much out of the day as possible, so I called to check in instead.
Mandy answered on the third ring.
"It's Barb. How's everything?"
"All is quiet here. How'd questioning the night manager go?" Mandy asked in her usual cheerful voice.
"She was sketchy to say the least," I answered. "But she did give me a lead. Tell me what you make of this," I said and then repeated what I'd learned from Melba as I turned off onto Main Street and pointed my car in the direction of the nearest donut shop.
"Why would she need more than one room?" Mandy asked. "It's easy to assume that if she was meeting someone at the motel, then the manager didn't have to see the person she was meeting. He could've been waiting in the car or something. But more than one room? I don't get it. That situation doesn't sound like an affair to me."
"It doesn't sound like that to me, either," I admitted. "The manager, Melba, told me that the last time she saw Lydia, she was talking to a local contractor who's known to sell lakeside cabins. She said Lydia told her that it was time to move on."
"Why would she need a cabin out in the Grove?" Mandy asked.
"I don't know, but I need a favor."
"Sure. What do you need?" Mandy asked. I heard the shuffle of papers in the background. Mandy was one hell of a multitasker, and I admired her for it.
"I need to know of any property that Lydia might have purchased in the last two months. Especially anything out in Trinity Grove or the surrounding areas."
"I'm on it, boss," she said, and I heard the clickety-clack of the keyboard as Mandy went to work.
I stopped at the red light and tapped the fingertips of one hand against the steering wheel. Once the light changed to green I pulled into the drive-thru of the Happy Day Donut and Coffee Shop and ordered a bear claw and iced coffee while Mandy clacked away on the keyboard in search of answers.
I put the call on speakerphone and sat the cell phone in my empty cup holder, paid for my order, and pulled over into the parking lot where I parked my car in one of the only empty spots left.
I'd just bitten into my bear claw and swallowed when Mandy's voice came over the line.
"Lydia purchased a cabin in Trinity Grove two months ago."
"Well, that fits the timeline." I wiped my mouth on a pink napkin. "The motel receipts stop around that time, and that's when the night manager said she'd seen Lydia last. What else did you find?"
"Public records say that the cabin was built by Harris Construction. Melvin Harris is listed as the business owner. From what I can find, it looks like he's an upstanding business man," Mandy informed me. I heard more clicking in the background.
"His construction business is based out of Trinity Grove, and from the looks of it, is quite successful. He builds mostly summer homes and cabins around the area and some in the neighboring summer towns. He's married, has two teenage sons, and the most trouble he's ever been in is a few parking tickets when he was younger. Other than that, Melvin seems to be an ordinary guy and not much of a threat. I'll text you the cabin's address."
I wasn't about to ask how Mandy had gotten all of that information. Some things were better left unsaid.
"Great. Thanks, Mandy. You're a lifesaver."
"Hey, Barb," Kelly called out.
"Am I on speakerphone?" I asked.
"Yeah, Kelly just walked in and wanted to hear what was going on today."
"I'm heading back out to Trinity Grove right now to check out Lydia's cabin," I said.
"Why would Lydia want to buy a cabin out in the middle of nowhere when she and Robert have more vacation homes than they could ever use?" Kelly asked.
"I don't know. That's what has me stumped. I think that whatever she was doing or had going on inside those motel rooms and the reason she was interested in that cabin are the keys to why she was killed and who pulled the trigger."
"If you're headed back out to the Grove, why didn't you ask me to come along? I know you can take care of yourself, but we worry," Kelly said.
"I appreciate that, really, I do, but I need you two to stay at the office and do some work there. Call in some of the other clients whose cases we've wrapped up and give them the news. I'll be in as soon as I can."
"All right." Kelly sighed playfully. "But be sure you check in. I'm not going to relax unless I know you're safe."
"Will do, Mom," I joked. "I'll call you later."
I disconnected the call, slid the phone back into my purse, and finished off my bear claw. If two weeks ago you'd asked me what I saw myself doing today, I never would have said tracking down a killer to save my ex-fiancé's butt.
But, it is what it is.
I sat my coffee in the cup holder, backed out of the parking spot, and then pulled out onto the highway. I had another thirty-minute drive back out to the Grove. Even if I couldn't talk to Melvin today, I still had the address to the cabin, and I fully intended to see what that place was all about.
The drive to the Grove was surprisingly uneventful.
The speed limit lowered considerably as I rolled into the small town of Trinity Grove. I was amazed at how different it looked in the bright light of day. Family cars and SUV's were parked randomly in the parking lots of the mom-and-pop grocery store, drugstore, and even along the sides of the road. Some of the cars had kids and dogs hanging out of the windows like you'd see in an old summer movie, while others were topped with canoes and kayaks or pulled boats and Jet Skis behind them.
The town looked like a scene from a postcard straight out of the fifties. It was actually nice, peaceful even, with all the smiling faces and laughter everywhere I looked. I wondered for a second what it was like growing up in such a Hallmark-greeting-card type of scene as I drove through the town. Not that I hadn't enjoyed growing up with my mom. We'd lived in the city for as far back as I could remember, and even though I'd never known my dad, I didn't long for him to come find me.
My mom, my Aunt Hannah, and Aunt Mona were always there for me. Their influence was the reason I grew to be the person I was. They were my rocks.
Mona still was.
I pushed aside my moment of reminiscing, pulled up next to a small park, and then turned down my radio. I fish
ed out the paper I'd scribbled Melvin's number on and dialed.
On the fifth ring I was beginning to wonder if anyone was going to pick up but then a friendly male voice answered. "Harris Construction, this is Melvin."
"Melvin, my name is Tina," I lied. "I was told that you had a secluded cabin you might be interested in selling."
"Well, I only had one cabin that I'd consider secluded here in Trinity Grove. If that's the one you're talking about, I'm sorry, but that property sold already. About two months ago, actually."
"Oh, that's too bad." I faked disappointment. "I understand that it was quite secluded, and that's exactly what I'm looking for. Something quiet and away from the city."
"I'm sorry, ma'am. If you're interested, I have other cabins around the Grove, but none are both secluded and lakefront as is the one you're interested in. I also build cabins if that's something that you'd be interested in?"
"It might be," I said. "Is there any way we can meet and discuss your properties?"
I knew the cabin had sold, but I needed a topic that would get him talking about that specific cabin and Lydia. Maybe he knew something about what she was doing out there.
"Sure," he said happily. "With the exceptions of a couple of meetings late this afternoon, I'm free until then. If you're close by I can meet you at Larry's Sandwich Shop for a late lunch. Is ten minutes good for you?"
"Sure. That sounds great. I'll meet you there."
We hung up, and I tossed my phone in my purse in the passenger seat. I pulled away from the park and back out onto the main street. Trinity Grove was about the size of a postage stamp, so instead of stopping and asking for directions, I just drove through town. The sandwich shop wasn't too difficult to find. I'd driven all of three minutes before I'd located Larry's.
The cute, little redbrick shop sat on the corner of Main Street and Broadway across from Manny's Sporting Goods.
While I waited for Melvin to arrive, I decided to call the office to check in.
Kelly answered on the second ring.
"How's it going?"
"Melvin agreed to meet me in about ten minutes. After I talk to him, I'm going to try to find the cabin. Mandy texted me the address, but I'm using Google Maps on my phone, and I don't know exactly where I'll have service out here. If I lose signal I'll just have to wing it."
