by Sara Rosett
I put my nearly empty mug of hot chocolate down. “I’ll be sure she makes it up the stairs,” I said in an undertone to Alex.
I caught Melissa’s arm as she wavered on the third step and helped her up the tight spiral to the rooms on the upper floors. “That Cyrus—he was awful,” she said. “Paul told me all about it. Did you hear how awful Cyrus was?”
“Some of it, yes. What did Paul tell you?”
“That Cyrus was awful.”
“In what way?” I asked, curious if he’d told Melissa the same thing that he’d told me.
She paused on a step and pushed her finger into my shoulder to emphasize her point. “Just awful.”
“Yes, you said that. Did he say what happened?”
“I’m so glad I don’t work for him. He’s awful.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said and gave up trying to get information out of Melissa and instead concentrated on getting her up the stairs.
Melissa was more coherent in the morning. I came out of the bathroom and found her sitting up in bed rubbing her hand across her face. Fuchsia and blond strands of her short hair stood out around her head. Her black eyeliner was smeared under her eyes and across one cheek.
“Hey. Need an aspirin?”
She groaned and flopped back onto the bed then groaned again.
I found an aspirin, poured her a glass of water and took them to her. “Here. Take these. You have very important mannequins to clothe today.”
“Do I?” The pillow muffled her reply.
“That’s what you said last night.”
“Oh.” She turned her head slightly so that I could see one black-smudged eye. “What else did I say?”
“Not much actually. You said Cyrus was awful.”
“Nothing about Paul?”
“Only that Cyrus was awful to Paul.”
“Thank goodness.”
I tilted my head. “What are you worried about?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” A blush tinged her cheeks.
I wondered…was Melissa into Paul? She’d never talked about him before, not in that way. But for all her openness, she played certain things close to the vest.
“What did Paul say about Cyrus?”
She struggled up on an elbow. “What about Paul?” She focused on the aspirin. “What are those for?”
“Your hangover.”
“I’m not hungover. I’m always like this in the morning,” she said but downed them anyway.
“What did Paul tell you about Cyrus?”
“That he made sure Paul didn’t get hired at Criminal Actions. Can you believe it? The ego of that man. Cyrus, I mean.”
“Paul mentioned it yesterday. It’s horrible, I know, but the upside is that Paul is still on the crew and here in Bath.”
Her cheeks flushed a brighter pink. “Um, yeah. Right. Whatever. Are you done in the shower?”
“All yours. I’m going down to breakfast.”
She threw back the covers, put a hand to her forehead, and headed for the bathroom.
I went down the stairs, through the kitchen area where Dominic, Annie, and Mia were working, and into the dining room. All of the tables were empty except for one, but several customers, who appeared to be locals, were waiting for their coffees and lattes then leaving as they were handed out. I touched the chair across from Felix, and he waved a hand. “Please, join me. If you can stand my crabbiness before I’ve had a second cup of coffee.”
“I haven’t had one cup, so I’m probably more crabby than you.”
“I doubt that.”
My back was to the door to the kitchen, but Felix raised his hand, and Mia in her hotel apron over a polo shirt and jeans, popped over to our table, coffeepot in hand. “Good morning. Would you like to see a menu?” she asked.
“Just coffee for now,” I said.
“There’s a buffet to start.” Her chestnut hair was caught back in a ponytail, but her two signature strands of curls shifted on either side of her animated face as she nodded at a wooden dresser in the far corner with a spread of cereals and pastries.
“Thank you. I’ll wait a bit.”
Mia said, “Fine. Fine. Just let me know when you’re ready to order. We do a full English breakfast that’s quite good.”
She left, and Felix muttered, “Can’t stand all that jolliness so early in the morning. Makes me testy. Alex will be down soon.”
I nodded and sipped my coffee. After half a cup I felt more like my normal self and ordered pancakes. “I’ll have the same,” Felix said to Mia.
Mia brought our food, and Felix ate quickly. Alex showed up, ordered eggs, and went to examine the buffet.
Felix angled his silverware across his plate. Before he could push away from the table, I asked, “With all the commotion yesterday, I never got to hear your answer about Octavia.”
He’d been dabbing his mouth with his napkin when I spoke. He froze, the linen pressed to his lips. “Octavia?” He put the napkin down slowly.
“Yes, what did you think of the relationship between Octavia and Cyrus? She told the inspector they lived separate lives.”
He fussed with the napkin, tucking it carefully under the edge of his plate. “I’ve never understood why she married him,” he said quietly without a trace of his usual bluster. “It doesn’t surprise me that they were living apart. Who could live with Cyrus?” His chair screeched over the hardwood floor as he stood. “Don’t know how anyone could stand the arrogant fool.”
“What’s his problem?” asked Paul, who had just arrived, after stepping aside to let Felix pass him.
“I asked him about Octavia and Cyrus,” I said.
Alex returned to the table with two glasses of orange juice. “Fresh squeezed.” He put one in front of me before he took a seat beside me.
“Thanks.”
Alex tilted his head toward the doorway where Felix had left. “Still his usual irritable self, I see.”
“Yes. He didn’t want to talk about Cyrus and Octavia.”
Annie arrived, balanced on a single crutch, with Alex’s plate of eggs in her free hand. She deposited it in front of Alex, and took Paul’s order.
“Poor lamb,” Annie said, looking after Felix as he disappeared around the corner on his way to the stairs. “He’s always been sensitive about Octavia. At least, that’s what I’ve heard, and it seems to be true. I’d never met Felix until yesterday. I’d heard about him, from Cyrus. Felix and Cyrus used to work together quite often,” She looked over her shoulder as if checking to make sure Felix hadn’t returned. “I always thought it was a shame—”
The ring of a landline phone sounded in the distance. Annie listened for a second then sighed. “That digital answering service is always going wonky. Excuse me, I’ll have to answer it in the office.”
I speared a bite of pancake after she left. “Interesting how the theater keeps popping—”
A scream cut through the air.
Chapter 13
ALEX, PAUL, AND I WERE paralyzed for a second. There was something primitive and raw about that scream that sent a cold shock of fear through me. The scream tapered off, then in the complete silence that followed, I could faintly hear someone breathing in a labored way, gulping in air.
We all moved at once. Silverware dropped. Chairs scraped. We surged to the doorway and through the empty kitchen area, with Alex in the lead. He pushed by Elise, who was stepping off the staircase. “What was that horrible noise?”
I was a pace behind him, and ignored her, too, my attention focused on the parlor, which was the direction the scream had come from, but it was empty.
Beyond it, in the entry, I could see Annie’s crutch on the floor. We moved into the small square of space between the hotel’s door and the little office alcove with the reception desk.
Annie sagged against the doorframe of the office, the muscles of her back working with her strained breathing.
Alex said, “Annie, is something wrong? Can we do—”
He stopp
ed dead for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder at me. “Call an ambulance. Quickly.” His voice was strained, and his face had gone pale.
I patted my pockets. “My phone. It’s in my room.”
I turned to get it, but Paul, who was right behind me said, “I’ve got mine. I’ll do it.”
Alex stepped around Annie and went into the small room.
I followed and had intended to put my hand on Annie’s shoulder and ask what was wrong, but one glance inside the door brought me to a complete standstill.
Graffiti was my first thought as I took in the red spatters on the walls and the floor, then almost the next second a coppery smell hit me, and the thought flashed through my mind that it wasn’t paint. It was blood.
I felt a roaring in my ears as I looked at the pools of blood on the floor, thick and shiny. It was too much blood. The sight of it spreading slowly across the wooden planks of the floor was shocking. My mind couldn’t seem to process anything clearly. Fragmented thoughts skittered through my brain. Too much. Horrible. A crumpled form lay on the floor. I recognized the hotel apron, the jeans, and the long chestnut ponytail. Mia. Her back was to the door, and her arms and legs were sprawled at awkward angles.
The room was barely big enough for Alex to go inside. He stepped carefully across Mia, pushing in the rolling desk chair, which was positioned a few inches away from the desk. As he pushed the chair back into the kneehole of the desk, it closed the middle lap drawer of the desk, which had been pulled out. Alex kneeled beside Mia and put out a hand, then drew it back quickly.
“Is she—” I broke off as Alex looked toward me and gave a small shake of his head.
Annie sucked in another shuddering breath, and I said, “Annie. Here, let me help you. You should sit down.”
She gripped the doorframe, clinging to it, leaving a red print on the white trim. She turned her face toward me, but her gaze was vacant.
“Paul, help me,” I said as I took Annie by the shoulders and edged her away from the office.
Annie swung around obediently, smearing a streak of blood on my sleeve. Paul grabbed her other side. The cast and her befuddled state made movement awkward, but we got her into the parlor area and into a chair.
Paul got a quick glance at the office before we moved away and muttered something under his breath then looked at me over Annie’s head after she was seated. “What happened?”
I shook my head, too upset to speak.
Annie sat completely still, her gaze fixed on her hands. Only one hand, her left one, was red, I realized. “I switched on the light and there she was.” Annie breathed heavily for a moment. “We never turn the light off during the day. Who would have turned the light off?” She flexed her hands, which were resting palm up on her knees. The blood on her hand was drying, cracking in the creases of her skin on her fingers and palm.
Elise, who must have looked into the office area once Paul and I maneuvered Annie away, returned to the parlor, her skin an ashy color. “Someone called for an ambulance?” she asked.
“I did. On the way,” Paul said. “In fact, I think I hear it. I’ll go meet it.” Paul left through the front door.
Felix came down the stairs and into the parlor. “What’s all the fuss—” He frowned at Annie’s bright red hand. “Has there been an accident?”
“Something like that,” Elise said.
Melissa, freshly showered and with her hair still damp, breezed down the stairs and made for the hotel door. She saw me and said, “I’m off. See you later…” her words tapered off like a clock winding down as her gaze traveled from me to Annie to the other still people in the room, finally coming to rest on Alex who had just emerged from the office. The knees of his jeans were soaked with blood.
Elise said to Melissa, “You can’t leave. I’m sure the police will want to speak to you. To all of us, in fact.”
Melissa blinked.
Elise waved a hand at Melissa and Felix, “Best have a seat.” She looked at Annie critically. “She needs a brandy,” she said and went into the bar.
Elise was right, I realized. The hotel was a crime scene. Someone had killed Mia. I lowered myself into a club chair, my thoughts whirling. Another murder.
The clatter of glassware sounded as Alex came over and sat down beside me. He reached out a hand, and I gripped it tightly, noticing that his hands were clear of any blood. “What happened?”
Alex’s face looked even more washed out than it had before. “Someone cut her throat,” he said quietly. “I was going to check for a pulse, but I…couldn’t.”
I closed my eyes. It was incredible…unbelievable.
I squeezed Alex’s hand tighter.
Elise returned with a glass and told Annie to drink it. “It’s brandy,” Elise said, but Annie only stared at the glass.
“Go on, drink up,” Elise said. Annie automatically took a sip, then sputtered. “One more,” Elise ordered. “Good. Now, I think you need this.” Elise pulled off her black cape that had been fluttering around her as she moved. She draped it over Annie’s shoulders and nodded. She scanned Alex’s face. “You could do with a drink as well,” she said and was off to the bar again.
The alternating high-low pitch of the ambulance siren grew much louder then cut off. Paul escorted the emergency crew inside and showed them the office alcove.
They came out almost immediately.
“She couldn’t have been more than twenty,” I said, thinking of Mia’s bright, eager face.
“Nineteen,” Annie said suddenly. She held the brandy close to her chest with her clean hand, her gaze focused on the empty fireplace. “She was a good worker. Except for that spot of bother with Mr. Gaston’s watch. She settled down after that and gave us no problems.” No one said anything to her, but Annie kept talking, addressing the fireplace in a singsong voice. “It was a few weeks after she started. His watch went missing. Mrs. Gaston insisted that she saw Mia poking about their belongings when she came in the room unexpectedly, but Mia turned out her pockets immediately and let them search her bag.” Annie lifted a shoulder. “What could they do then?” Annie looked toward me. “There’s always a guest or two who try to take advantage.”
“I’m sure there are,” I said while thinking she’s in shock.
Elise brought a brandy for Alex. As he thanked her for it, Dominic came in the open front door with a plastic bag in one hand. “What’s happened? Is someone hurt? I saw the ambulance—”
Annie shifted toward him, her gaze seeming to come into focus for the first time. “Oh, Dominic,” she said in her normal voice. “It’s so awful. Someone’s cut Mia’s throat.”
“What?” he moved across the room to her, his gaze quickly running around our faces.
She nodded. “It’s true. There’s blood,” she stopped and swallowed thickly, “all over the office. Someone cut her throat.”
Dominic looked back to the entry where the emergency crew now stood in front of the door. “Surely…an accident…”
Annie shook her head. “No,” she said. “I saw it all. All the blood. Someone cut her throat with the little Swiss army knife, the one we keep in the desk. I saw it there on the floor, right beside her. It was bloody, too. Absolutely coated.”
Chapter 14
SOON ANOTHER SIREN SOUNDED AND then the police arrived, uniformed men. I knew they were only the first wave. Eventually, after much activity, we were all escorted into the dining room and told to wait without talking to each other or using our phones. Alex was allowed to change into a new pair of jeans, but the police kept his blood-soaked ones, depositing them in an evidence bag. I caught a few glimpses of the investigating officers and spotted Inspector Byron.
The minutes dragged by. There was nothing to do but think, and my mind was humming, wondering why someone would kill Mia and if—how?—it was related to Cyrus’s death. Because the two deaths must be related, surely? I didn’t know much about the crime statistics in Bath, but I doubted that homicide was that common.
One by one, our group was called for individual interviews. Annie, who was still huddled in Elise’s cape, was first, then Dominic. Alex was called next, and I was after him. I passed Alex on his way out of the bar area of the hotel. “I’ll wait for you in the dining room,” he said, and I nodded as I followed Sergeant Gadd.
Byron was waiting in the back of the bar area as far away from the commotion at the entry of the hotel as possible. People were still moving around the entry and the parlor, as well as in and out of the hotel. The front door was propped open, letting in a cold draft. A camera flash illuminated a wall as I walked by.
I settled onto the chair across the table from Byron. I supposed this was the only place left in the hotel for him to speak to people. We’d filled all the rooms upstairs. The ground floor was taken up with our group waiting in the dining room and the police investigators had spilled over from the entry into the parlor area.
“You were the third person to arrive on the scene?” Byron asked. He wore another unremarkable dark suit, but he looked tired. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his glasses had a smudge on the corner. The table in front of him was blank. No notebook or phone or computer tablet in sight.
“Yes. I came in with Alex. He went into the office to check on Mia.”
“But you did not?”
“No. It was too crowded.”
“Tell me what happened.”
I summarized the awful sight and how I had first mistaken it for graffiti. When I finished, he nodded.
“And before this, when did you see Ms. Warren last?”
It took me a second to work out that he meant Mia. “Only a few moments before. She was our waitress this morning, for Felix and me. We ate, then Alex arrived. Mia took his order, but when his food came, it was Annie who brought it, not Mia.” I’d had plenty of time to go over everything in my mind while we waited.
“So it was just you and Mr. Norcutt in the dining room after that?”
“No, Paul arrived when Felix left.”
“How long would you say it was between the time when you saw Ms. Warren in the dining room and you heard Mrs. Bell scream?”
