Frankly, I was at work to get some rest, and I was fairly certain the double homicide call that Maddox got at five a.m. had nothing to do with the smile plastered all over his face when he kissed me goodbye.
"Don't do anything dangerous," he said as he pulled one shoe on. He was sitting on the side of my bed. His hair had grown quickly and was starting to move in different directions again. It was all I could do not to run my hands through it and drag him back for a quickie. "Even better, take a day off. Avoid the hotel. Go visit your family or go out with Lily."
But as appealing as that sounded, I had a job to do and a missing woman to find. “No can do, sorry,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss the nape of his neck.
“Fine. You’re still my favorite PI.” He kissed me one more time, and left, humming a tune under his breath as his cell phone started to trill.
Working in the office with the pissy message still spray-painted on the wall wasn't much fun, so I took my time wandering around the hotel, talking to the staff on the weekend shift, anything to keep me away from the closet of doom.
Just as I passed the kitchen door, I heard voices, which wasn't unusual. I would have walked right on past if I hadn't heard an angry voice say, "I know who's sabotaging the hotel and it's about time someone said something."
Oh, sweet, heavenly music! That was exactly what I wanted to hear. I skidded to a stop, retreated two steps and pressed my back against the wall, leaning towards the door.
"Who?" asked a female voice.
Who, indeed? I leaned in.
"You won't believe me." Footsteps pacing. "Hell, no one will believe me."
"Why not?"
"’Cause people like that don't do stuff like this!"
Stuff like what? I inched sideways and peeped around the door, just as a person barreled out. The swinging door flashed forwards and smacked right into me. I stumbled backwards and landed on my butt, my legs splayed and what sounded horribly like a heel cracking. I winced, felt a moment of relief I was wearing a pantsuit, and looked up at the hand held out to me.
"Sorry. Lexi. Didn't see you there," said Amanda, who I now realized, was the female voice in the conversation I’d overheard. I took her hand and she pulled me to my feet.
Greg Conlan, the headwaiter of whom Sylvia had been suspicious, banged out of the door. He took one look at me, shook his head at his friend in warning, and shot off.
I dusted myself down, insisting to Amanda I was fine, and after refusing the offer of an icepack, hobbled after Greg, the heel of my shoe feeling more and more unsteady the faster I went.
By the time I caught up with Greg, I was out of breath.
"I need to talk to you," I said. "About what you said back there."
Greg shrugged, his shoulders tight as he jutted his chin up. "What about it?"
"You really know who is behind the sabotage?"
He looked at me, breathing hard through his nose, then looked quickly to the left and right before giving me a short, sharp nod.
"You need to tell someone. This is serious."
"You think I don't know that! I've been working here for two years, and in the past six months, I've missed more than a dozen shifts! And now I'm spending weekends I want to spend with my kid, working doubles because someone told housekeeping they weren't needed this weekend, and there’s no one to clean the rooms, or do the turn-down service."
"I hear you," I said, slipping in a lie. "I wanted to take my niece to the park this afternoon, but instead, I'm here. Why don't you let me help you? If you tell me who it is, I can tell Mr. Killjoy."
"He'd never believe me."
"It won't come back on you, I promise."
"I don't know, it's..."
"Hard, I understand. No one wants to feel like they're ratting on their colleagues, but the sooner this place gets back to normal, the better for all of us." I wobbled my lower lip and laid it on thick. "I need this job."
"Yeah, me too. I guess I should tell you. Maybe you can get Mr. Killjoy to listen. But not here, okay? I'm late and I've got a list as long of my arm of rooms that need to be serviced. Can you meet me upstairs later? We’re taking turns covering for the housekeeping no-shows; and I’m already five minutes late for my shift because I did the breakfast and early lunch shift in the main restaurant too. I'll tell you everything then."
"Okay," I agreed, because I didn't want to scare him off by insisting, especially when his posture showed how he wrestled with his dilemma. I could understand that. I wouldn't want to be in his position either. I pulled out my notepad and scribbled my extension number on it. "Just give me a call and let me know where you are; and I'll come find you."
He took the paper, crumpling it into his pocket and hurried off without a backwards glance. I watched him until he turned the corner towards the service elevators, then retreated.
I hobbled through to the front desk and asked if they had anything to fix my shoe.
Peter waved to his colleague to take over the desk and ushered me into the back room. I sat on one of the hard chairs and eased off my shoe. Peter took one look at the heel and sucked the air through his teeth.
"Is there anything you can do?"
"I hate to break it to you, but I think it's dead."
"No!" My voice came out a pitch higher than intended, making me sound like a wounded animal as I stared at the heel Peter prodded gingerly with his forefinger.
"I'm afraid it's true. Your heel sustained a hairline fracture."
My lip wobbled for real this time. "But I love these shoes."
Peter laid a sympathetic hand on my knee. "Nothing can be done. You've got to let it go. You had good times together, right?"
"Yes." We did. These heels had been on dates, to more offices than I could count, and more than a few bars. We'd strolled, and danced, and on one memorable occasion, escaped a gropey paralegal at a fast clip.
"Then you have to let them go."
"Maybe I could take them to a cobbler?"
"Let them go, honey," Peter sighed.
"But they were perfect."
Peter laid it straight. "And now they're not."
I touched a finger to the crack around the top of the heel where it met the shoe and winced. Goodbye, shoes, I said silently, I'll miss you.
"Do you have any spares with you?"
"Shoot. No." I had sneakers in my car, but they weren't work-suitable.
"Go home and get another pair. I'll tell Killjoy you had a family emergency."
"Thank you."
I hobbled out of the concierge's little room and made my way, half walking, half limping, through the employee areas and out into the rear lot. By the time I got to my car, I was mad at me, mad at my shoes, mad that I'd worked six days straight, and mad at everything. Even my completion percentage couldn't make me focus on the positive side. I wrenched the heels off, tossing them on the passenger seat and pulled on my sneakers, gunning it home so I could change shoes.
One pair of smart, black heels later—slightly too high for the office, but so damn gorgeous, they hurt—I was back at the hotel and it was mid-afternoon. I sighed. It was only fair that I put in an extra couple of hours’ work, seeing as I'd sloped off for no good reason other than a shoe emergency.
I went straight to my office and while I waited for Greg’s call, I worked on my report for Solomon until it was up-to-date; then I emailed it from my personal email address to his.
Just as I got back to the office, my desk phone started to ring, the colored lights on the panel blinking, and I snatched it up.
"Mr. Killjoy's office."
"Is that Lexi?"
"Yes, it is. How can I help you?"
"It's Greg. Greg Conlan. Uh, from earlier. I tried calling you before, but no one answered."
"Right, sorry. I had to go out. Where are you?"
"Third floor. Can you come up? I'm still servicing the rooms for tomorrow's check in."
"Sure. Which room?"
"I'm in three-two now. Three-eight is next."<
br />
"I'll be right there."
"Thanks. I'll be glad to get this off my chest. I've got something to show you as well."
Greg hung up. I grabbed my purse, shuffled my paperwork into a neat pile and locked the door.
Edward poked his head out, just as I was locking my door. "Lexi, can you step inside my office for a moment?"
"I've got somewhere to be," I said, looking around me as Louisa stepped out of her office. She nodded at us and walked in the opposite direction, an empty coffee mug in her hand.
"It'll just take a moment."
I took one last look at the exit and followed Killjoy to his office. "I've been thinking," he said. "About Marissa. I think I know where she might have gone."
"Go on."
"One of her friends’ parents had a house somewhere. Beth, I think her name is. Marissa's been there a few times. Says it's the most peaceful place on earth."
Elisabeth. I thought it over this morning, when I couldn't get back to sleep after Maddox left, leaving a half cold bed. I was now working from the theory that if Marissa was on her own, she might have gone somewhere she felt safe. I now knew she had wheels, after not returning her friend, Ally's, car as agreed.
"Do you know where this place is?" I asked.
Edward shook his head. "No, she just talked about it in passing. She never said where. Can you find this Beth? Perhaps she knows?"
"I think she's the same friend who reported Marissa missing. I'll ask her. In the meantime, keep this between us," I said. "If Marissa was scared off, I don't want her to be found by anyone, but me."
"I won't say a thing," Killjoy assured me. "Just find her and bring her back safe. Please, Lexi. Just make sure she’s safe. She’s… she’s…"
I placed a hand on his arm. “I know.”
He gave me a small, tight smile. I nodded, and bid a hasty retreat, taking the corridor to the rear service exit. I pressed the call button and waited. A couple minutes of quiet later, I pressed it again, but there was no wind and rattle sound, signifying the elevator was working.
I huffed, annoyed, and made my way through to the guest elevators a few minutes away. I rode the elevator with an elderly couple, who got off at the second floor, rolling upwards agonizingly slowly before I arrived at the third floor. I hopped out, scanned the brass plates for the room numbers and followed the arrows to the lower numbers where Greg said he was working, wondering what he wanted to show me.
My stomach fluttered the closer I got to room three-eight. So long as Greg actually had some vital information for me, very soon I could crack the case, and then I wouldn't have to pretend to be a temp anymore. I could go to the gym with Lily. I could have the lie-in I wanted. Buy some new shoes with my bonus. Maybe even take a couple days off.
The idea of that was enough to make me feel pretty pleased with myself when I stepped around the cleaning cart, pushed back the door, which was ajar, and stepped inside.
"Greg?" I said, frowning at the closed curtains that ensconced the room in darkness.
I turned, and tripped. "Not aga—" I started to mutter, my hands shooting out to soften my fall as I tipped forwards, my heel catching on something. On my knees, my hands planted firmly in the carpet, I could just make out the prone form of a body sprawled near the bed.
"What the hell?" I whispered, crawling forwards.
I heard the soft click of the door shut behind me, and started to turn, the breeze touching my face, signifying movement. Then there was only blinding pain as something incredibly heavy smashed into my skull. My knees crumpled and my arms shot out as I crashed heavily to the floor.
My eyelids fluttered, and then there was nothing.
When I came to, there was no one in the room. At least, I didn't think there was at first. I blinked a few times to adjust my eyes to the dark and groaned, pushing myself up. My head hurt like crazy and I raised a hand to it, feeling gingerly for injuries. Aside from a bump the size of a golf ball at the side of my head, I seemed to have escaped injury. I was definitely alive anyway. I felt for my heels. They were too.
"Great!" I muttered. “Come to offer help and get knocked on the head!” I scrabbled around for my purse, found the strap and pulled it towards me. I blinked again, for the first time noticing the sprawled figure of Greg Conlan slumped on the floor. Unlike me, Greg wasn't moving. I suspected it was he whom I’d fallen over, disabling me for the assailant to strike. I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the gloom as my head throbbed. Whoever it was had long gone.
Duck walking towards Greg, I reached two fingers to the pulse point on his neck and grimaced. Greg was cool to the touch and had probably stopped breathing some time ago. Maybe even before someone whacked me over the head.
Sucking in a ragged breath and trying to quell my panic, I had the horrible certainty that being in the same room as a murderer, and a corpse was very, very bad.
I staggered to my feet, feeling my way to the door. I tried the handle and sighed. The door was locked and it wasn't opening without a keycard. I looked around, squinting through the dark. The only other exit was the floor-to-ceiling sliding doors behind the drawn curtains. I crossed over and tugged at the sliding door, opening it a little further, giving me enough room to slip through. I was on the third-floor balcony, with what I guessed was at least a three meter drop to the grass below. A tinny ring echoed somewhere in the building, telling me that an alarm had been activated, but it wasn’t a fire alarm. I had two options. One, I could wait to be discovered; then explain to security or the police what I was doing in a locked room with a head wound and a corpse. The second option was down.
It wasn't much of a choice. I stepped inside. Wrapping my sleeve around my hand, I wiped the back of the room door and the handle, edging around Greg’s prone form.
I vaguely recalled Greg saying he had something to show me. I crawled frantically around him, and gulped, checking his pockets. Nothing but loose change. Whatever it was had disappeared.
The alarm still rang ominously. I took a fortifying breath, and purse in hand, made for the balcony door. Pulling my sleeves over my hands, I wiped my fingerprints off the handle on each side and pulled the sliding door shut behind me, hearing the lock engage, cutting me off from the body.
I estimated I probably had a minute or so before someone came to check in the room, assuming that was why the alarm still rang. I looked on either side of the balcony, but there was nothing to grab onto. No guttering. No trellis. I said a little prayer, hoping someone upstairs could hear me and was feeling generous. Then, leaning over, I dropped my purse to the ground. The sound of its fall was muffled by the grass. I swung first one leg over the railing, then the other, making sure my fingertips were covered the whole time. There would be no way to explain why my fingerprints were found in a guest room with a corpse. I had no reason to be in guest rooms at all.
I kicked off my heels, and watched them land next to my purse.
Then, I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes. And jumped.
The fall seemed to last forever as the evening breeze rushed through my hair and channeled its way under my clothing. Then I was on the ground, trying very hard not to cry as my ankle jarred upon landing as I rolled to a stop. I grabbed my bag, slipped my shoes on, and hobbled along the side of the building, making my way towards the parking lot. Then I stopped. How long had I been out? It was still light, but the lot was half empty. I checked my watch. Gone six. Having my car peel out of here right now would look pretty suspicious.
Wincing as my ankle protested, I did an about-face and hurried back along the side of the building. There weren't any cameras here, given that the area was largely disused, and I scurried along until I reached the front. Straightening up, I tried not to hobble as I walked through the landscaped gardens to the street, and once there, hobbled quickly. At the next intersection, I tapped in the pin code of my cell phone, scrolled through the address book to Lily's name and pressed “call.”
"Hey, you!" Lily said cheerfully when we connecte
d.
"Hey. I need some help!" I gasped.
Immediately, Lily’s tone sharpened. "What's up?"
"I need you to come get me from the hotel, then take me to the hospital."
There was silence, then Lily's worried voice. "What happened?"
"Someone bashed me over the head and knocked me out."
"I knew I shouldn't have asked. I knew I should have just said sure."
"Can you come now? I'm waiting down the street. It’s urgent."
I paused as a police car sped past me and turned into the front drive of the hotel. Yep, someone definitely wanted that body discovered.
"On my way," said Lily.
I stayed in the shadows until I saw Lily's turquoise Mini driving cautiously along the street twenty minutes later. I hobbled out, waving to her and she pulled over just long enough for me to jump in. We took off, Lily pulling a U-turn in the quiet street. A moment later, another cop car sped past us, heading for the hotel.
"Jeez," she said. "What were you doing?"
"Snooping."
Lily shook her head. "That's some dangerous snooping."
"Tell me about it." I pulled the visor down and peered in the mirror while holding my hair back, angling my head. I heard Lily suck in a breath. The bump looked angry, but not bloody, which was a mercy. I wouldn't need to go to the hospital at any rate. My grass stained knees could be treated at home too.
"Tell me what happened."
I glanced across at Lily, heaving a sigh. "I don't want to implicate you."
"Did you do something bad?"
"No. Someone else did something bad."
Lily raised her eyebrows and waited.
"I was supposed to meet someone who had information on the saboteur, but when I got there, he was lying on the floor. Just as I tried to take a look, someone whacked me on the head, knocking me out. When I woke up, he or she was gone, the body was still there, and the alarm was ringing."
"So the police cars we just saw..."
"Someone probably just discovered the body." Or was tipped off. I had the uncomfortable feeling I was supposed to have been discovered at the same time. It would have taken a hell of a lot of persuasion to get me out of that situation, even with nineteen serving family members on the police force, and a cop boyfriend, and a boss with a past in national agencies. As it was, I'd left the scene of the crime; but given that I hadn't killed anyone, I wasn't too worried about that. I was worried that the murderer had probably seen me and set me up to take the fall after snatching the evidence Greg claimed to have. The same person was behind the message on my wall. The same person who cut the lights in the conference center and scared the shit out of the guests. The same person who wanted to see The Montgomery fail. And I was just inches away. I cursed myself silently.
Who Glares Wins (Lexi Graves Mysteries) Page 23
