“You listen to me and you listen good.” He pulled her toward him. His face was inches away from hers. His tone was almost scolding. Rashelle stood there helplessly watching the scene unfold. “This is not the time for being a smart ass. I don’t have to tell you what this looks like after the video we watched earlier. There is a murder investigation in progress and your cooperation is imperative.” He loosened his grip and let her pull back slightly but still had her in his control.
“Okay, okay. We just needed a little fresh air…and thought it wouldn’t hurt to see if there was anything unusual going on outside since it seemed like everyone else was inside.” Elizabeth held her breath, hoping her off the cuff explanation would fly. He glared into her eyes for a few seconds longer as if he was considering her excuse, and then slowly released his grip. She fell backwards, but caught herself after taking a couple steps in reverse. She was indignant that he had treated her that way.
“Kurt!” Rashelle didn’t like the way their encounter was deteriorating.
He shot her a look of annoyance. “Oh, give it a rest! We are all under a lot of pressure right now. We don’t need anyone fooling around, sticking their noses where they don’t belong.” He looked from Rashelle to Elizabeth and back again. “Follow me.” His tone was gruff. He sounded tired and angry.
The girls looked at each other and decided to play along and follow Kurt as he headed back to the inn. They were both heaving a sigh of relief. Perhaps they had been able to slip out of the Hutchins’ room without being detected. They got in a single file behind the frustrated tennis pro, like they were back in elementary school heading for gym class. The horizon was getting a little lighter. It was almost daybreak. It was an overcast, Sunday morning with an ominous gray sky; a harbinger of worse weather to come. The dark clouds were…like a blanket of sadness that enrobed the inn.
Chapter 17
The threesome re-entered the inn through the front door where the aroma of fresh brewed coffee greeted them. In the time they were gone, Anthony had put out food for everyone. Instead of the usual elaborate weekend brunch that he and his staff usually prepared, there was a simple breakfast buffet spread out on long narrow tables just inside the entrance to the dining room. It was less a celebration of food and more a basic meal to keep everyone going, nothing fancy, just the basics; scrambled eggs, waffles, buttermilk pancakes, fruit salad, bacon, and sausage. There were urns with coffee and hot water for other beverages. The plates were even sturdy disposables to help keep things simple. A toaster stood by, plugged in, ready to make toast or to crisp a bagel or English muffin. The two friends grabbed fresh coffee from the dining room and headed into the sitting area as directed by Kurt. They felt as though they were being babysat as Mitchell entered the room and took his place in a worn leather chair near the doorway. Elizabeth was starting to feel trapped.
With few words exchanged, they sat in silence and watched as a couple of state troopers entered the lobby of the inn through the front door, disappeared into the dining room, reappeared into the lobby with coffee and food to go, and exited through the front door. At least the troopers were being well fed.
Before long, Amelia appeared at the guest reception window. She appeared to be keeping busy with matters behind the desk. She looked up to see the quiet occupants of the drawing room. “Well, good morning, everyone!” She tried to sound as cheerful as she could manage, looking particularly tired this morning.
“Morning, Nana.”
“Morning.”
“Morning, Amelia.”
“Did you help yourself to breakfast?”
“No, not yet. We’ll get it in a minute, Nana. We thought we would start with coffee.”
Voices at the dining room doorway announced the re-emergence into the lobby of Lt. Perkins, of the distinguished Maine State Police, with Chief Austin right behind him.
“Good morning, Lieutenant. Good morning, Chief.” Amelia decided to come out from behind the reception desk. They mumbled something in response. Instead of lingering with them, she joined the threesome in the sitting room. The two officers remained in the lobby area, talking quietly between themselves for a few minutes before entering the sitting room behind Amelia. Elizabeth started to feel uncomfortable, boxed in. It looked as though they were going to be in for a briefing or an interrogation.
No one heard Renard quietly slink up behind them. His head was heavy, shoulders slumped, arms down at each side, a pistol in his right hand. He looked disheveled; his clothes were wrinkled and dirty. His brown, shoulder-length hair was tossed about his head. You could almost detect a foul odor emanating from him, Pig Pen straight out of the Peanuts comic strip, just sixty years older. When he spoke, everyone spun around in sync toward him. There was an air of precision in the movement as in a military maneuver. Everyone was on edge when they saw who was speaking. Perkins and Austin backed further away from him to give him some space. They looked apprehensive.
“I’ve held the secret in for too long…It’s time I confessed.”
There was a muffled gasp from someone. He had everyone’s undivided attention. He spoke as though he was talking to himself, gesturing with the gun from time to time. He looked anxious, desperate.
“It was an accident. I was only trying to help. I didn’t mean for her to get hurt…” His voice was cracking. He was starting to break down. The lieutenant, who was positioned to Renard’s right, was keeping a close eye on him, on his gun. Renard was becoming distraught as he unfolded the story. He had a captive audience. Suddenly he looked directly at Elizabeth and he became very uncomfortable, shuffling his feet.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Pennington…to your grandmother, too. I wish I could change it all. But I can’t. I’ve ruined everything…” He burst into sobs, which the trooper took as a sign to move in. Renard detected movement and recoiled, pointing his gun at him. “NO! DON’T MOVE! DON’T COME NEAR ME!” he lashed out at the officer, his eyes possessed with terror. The situation was deteriorating quickly. He was a desperate man, seemingly with nothing to lose. They all had to proceed cautiously. Elizabeth tried to look around the room discretely without making much movement. This guy was a ticking time bomb and there had to be a way to calm him down. The trooper wasn’t much help. Now, he was undoubtedly gun shy. She decided to take action.
“Renard,” she spoke as softly and gently as she could, like a mother speaking to a small child, hoping to diffuse his anger. “Renard no one is going to hurt you.” She spoke slowly and deliberately. “Just talk to us. Go on with your story. What happened?”
“Miss Pennington, I’m so sorry.”
“I know you are. You didn’t mean for things to happen the way they did. It was an accident.” Her voice was very calming.
“Yes!” He looked right at her, spoke directly to her. She understood. His face showed recognition. As far as he was concerned, no one else was in the room. He was talking with Elizabeth. Sweet, adorable, little Lizzi who had grown into a beautiful woman. She had always been so kind to him. He had had a wonderful fantasy that someday she would care deeply for him. She would see what a good job he did taking care of her Pennington Point Inn and realize how much he cared for it, how much he cared for her.
“So keep going, Renard. Tell us how it went.”
The room got very quiet. Renard averted his eyes from hers. He seemed to be trying to recall the details, gathering his thoughts. Perhaps he was embarrassed to be confessing to her. He raised his left arm, extended his fingertips to his forehead, and rubbed away the tension. His right arm was limp at his side, the gun dangling from his pudgy hand. He regained his composure. He picked up his head and looked directly at the far wall across the room, avoiding all eye contact. He continued.
“The door to her room was open and I saw she needed help. I don’t remember exactly what she was doing…hanging something at a window or something. She was up on a chair. The
window was open. I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I know I’m not supposed to go in a girl’s room, but I was just trying to help. Girard always told me that. I knew that…he knew I knew….well, lately he kept saying he was going to tell if I didn’t, so I made him be quiet.” He broke down in sobs again.
“Renard, it’s okay.” She glanced at Perkins and Mitchell to confirm that they were holding steady. She—they—needed to hear his story. “What happened?” she implored.
“I must have scared her—I didn’t mean to! I guess she didn’t know I was there. When I asked her if she needed help she spun around quickly on the chair and lost her balance.” His eyes were glossing over as if he were relieving the horror. “She fell backwards through the open window. It was awful. I tried to grab her before she fell but it happened so quickly. I couldn’t get to her in time. I ran outside and she was lying there on the ground all contorted, not moving. I knew she was dead. I’m so sorry…” The weight of his confession was too much for him. He dropped to one knee and his head drooped. As if on cue, Mitchell and Perkins lunged for him from either side and tackled him to the ground. The tennis pro skillfully kicked Renard’s gun well out of his reach while the trooper cuffed him. A well-orchestrated team maneuver. The rest of the room heaved a collective sigh of relief. The two muscle men hoisted Renard to his feet. His shoulders slumped. His hands were shackled behind his back.
Elizabeth felt anger rising up inside of her. How could Renard have let this happen? She decided she wasn’t finished with him yet. She jumped up and lunged toward the trio. She grabbed Kurt’s forearm to impede his progress toward the door. “So, Renard, where is she now?” She spoke directly at him and the tone of her voice was a loosely veiled attempt to hide her anger. She needed the rest of the story. She thought they all deserved to hear it. She got as close to him as she dared to be sure she heard every word.
“I buried her in the woods,” he mumbled, seemingly to himself. Elizabeth could smell his rancid breath. Wrinkling her nose, she turned her head away from him and released her grip on Kurt’s arm. The daring duo escorted the beast out the front door of the inn—a door he had walked through many times over the years, but this may very well be his last. He had changed everything in a horrible split second decision.
His final comment hit everyone hard. How devastating. There had been such hope that this situation would turn out positive, that the girl would be found alive, just in a lot of trouble with her parents for wandering off. One thing was certain. If he had misinterpreted her unconsciousness as absence of life, she was dead now. He had buried her in the woods. Elizabeth was still trying to get her head around Renard’s bombshell. This was just terrible. Terrible for the girl’s parents. Terrible for her grandmother and terrible for the inn. This could very well spell the end for a wonderful seaside inn that had been in the family for generations. No one was going to want to stay here anytime soon. Looks like the real estate attorney was going to get his way after all. Elizabeth was livid, but not yet ready to give up the fight.
Elizabeth glanced at Rashelle, and then at her grandmother. “Nana, I’m so sorry. This couldn’t have turned out worse.” For a passing moment, she wondered who was going to have to tell the girl’s parents.
“Oh, Lizzi, it is awful. These poor parents. That poor little girl…at least it’s over. I hate to say it. I know it sounds terrible. But I don’t know how much more of this I could have taken.” Her voice was barely audible. “It’s so agonizing not knowing…I never even had a chance to meet her. I usually meet all of my guests, at least before they leave…” Her eyes were brimming with tears. The situation was heartbreaking.
Chapter 18
The ceiling fan on the porch was rotating lazily above Elizabeth. She was staring downward at its reflection in the bowl of her spoon. It was hypnotizing. The two friends were sharing a few minutes together trying to eat some breakfast and sort through the surprise confession they had just witnessed. Finally Elizabeth broke the silence. “It just doesn’t make sense …” She was deep in thought, almost not aware she was speaking out loud. “Something that Renard told us in his confession doesn’t jive…” She wrinkled her forehead, rubbing it with the outstretched fingers of her right hand, still gazing at the flickering reflection in the spoon. Suddenly she looked up at Rashelle and came alive. She scooted to the edge of her seat toward her friend. “Rashelle, think about it. He said she fell out the window backwards. The Hutchins’ room is on the first floor.”
Playing along for the sake of argument, Rashelle bantered back, “Well, what if she hit her head the wrong way or snapped her neck?”
“…I suppose that’s possible, but from the first floor window?”
“He did say she was standing on a chair and the side windows are higher up because of the grassy slope next to the building.”
“That’s true…” Elizabeth considered Rashelle’s retort. “But he also said he knows he is not supposed to go in the girl’s room. Did he mean girl apostrophe ‘s’ or girls apostrophe?”
Rashelle gave her a puzzled look.
Elizabeth explained, “In other words, did he mean one girl, like the guest Kelsey Hutchins or many girls—like the girls who were students at the school many years ago?”
Rashelle gasped. “Do you think he was talking about the death of that student years ago?”
“I don’t know. He was certainly around back then. Besides it was a student’s disappearance and presumed death,” she corrected Rashelle’s misstatement. “No body was ever found. That’s why it is referred to as a mystery.” She pressed on. “And didn’t he say she was lying on the ground, not the porch, when he ran outside to see how she was? The porch didn’t exist on that building until renovations were done to convert the school into an inn.”
“Liz! What if you’re right?”
“Well, it would mean we have solved the mystery of the student’s disappearance, but we still have a present day mystery to solve. We may not be finished yet.” She looked directly at Rashelle. “We need to find the chief. This is not over. The Hutchins’ girl may still be alive.”
____________
They found Chief Austin on the phone at the front desk in the lobby. They stood off to the side of the lobby to wait patiently for him to finish. They could overhear part of his conversation even though he was obviously trying to be discreet. “…and you’re sure it was from his boat…no survivors?...okay…alright…thanks… yeah…okay…thanks…” Elizabeth was feeling a little sorry for Chief Austin. He was definitely out of his league and she was sure it was a bit humiliating to have the state police swarm in and take over in his jurisdiction. He finished his conversation, hung up the phone and turned toward Elizabeth and Rashelle, who had made their way across the lobby toward him. They were each resting an elbow on the reception desk counter, like bookends.
The chief beat them to the punch. He looked like he was anxious to change the subject from his phone conversation. “Rashelle…just the person I need to speak with.” He made his way out from behind the counter and into the lobby to confront Elizabeth and Rashelle. They turned to face him when he emerged from the office door.
Elizabeth examined his face and watched for any body language to see if he meant without her, but the chief kept going. “Were you the staff person who was on duty when the Hutchins checked in?”
“Yes…” she answered cautiously. She wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed.
“Did they show you any ID when they registered?”
Rashelle knew she needed to tread carefully here and choose her answer wisely. She didn’t need Chief Austin turning the tables and blaming her for any of this. She was beginning to think he was getting desperate and just needed someone to pin something on. “No, they paid in cash and so I didn’t need any ID. I only need to verify ID if they are paying with a credit card or personal check.”
It w
as clear that the chief was trying to keep his cool. “So you don’t really know if they really were Mr. and Mrs. Hutchins, or anyone else for that matter.” The pace and volume of his voice were escalating.
She took one step closer to him, looked him in the eye, and held her ground. “Until now, we have never had a reason to question the identity of the guests who walk through our doors. We welcome them with open arms and treat them like family. That’s the way we do business here. Amelia wouldn’t have it any other way. And until I have been instructed otherwise, I will continue with this procedure.” She held her gaze for effect.
Elizabeth had goose bumps! She was proud of her friend. Rashelle was a relatively new employee, yet she just demonstrated incredible loyalty to Amelia and the entire Pennington Point Inn family and staff. She held herself back from giving her a hug. Another time, perhaps.
Austin seemed pushed off his stance. He stammered, “Uh…well, it certainly seems that it might have helped in this situation.” He was struggling to regain his composure.
“What do you mean? They aren’t who they said they were? They are not the Hutchins?” Elizabeth chimed in.
“Well, I didn’t say that. We are still trying to confirm their identity in West Hartford, Connecticut, which is where they said they were from. The address they gave when they checked in is coming up as invalid. Of course, it could be a new address. I can’t very well accuse the distressed parents of a missing girl of giving us a fake address. Unfortunately we also haven’t been able to search for a daughter named Kelsey in any schools in the area since it’s the holiday weekend. Seems that the superintendent of the public schools is away for the weekend and there are quite a few private high schools in the surrounding area so it will take some time to contact the administrators of each one. Of course, if we don’t have a valid last name…we will have to keep working on that piece.”
The Precipice Page 15
