Booked For Murder

by CeeCee James

  I gave up. “Okay, what was it?”

  “It was a protein snack. Issued in about twenty-five percent of MREs.” She filed the stack of papers in a drawer and set to fixing the pens in the marble pen jar.

  “An MRE?”

  “Meal, Ready-To-Eat. They use them in the military, but you can also get them over the counter. My dad used to take one with him whenever he went fishing.”

  “How do you know this?”

  She shrugged. “I overheard one of the detectives talking about it the day they came through to investigate the pool.”

  I felt my forehead wrinkle. Something about this information stuck in my head as important. My frown quickly fell off as my face took on a professional look. Mr. Phillips and Jake, his brother, had entered the lobby.

  “Looky, looky. Here comes cookie,” Sierra whispered under her breath. She turned on her radiant smile. “Mr. Phillips and Mr. Phillips,” she said, greeting them before me.

  Not allowing her to stomp all over my authority, I walked up to meet them. “Good morning, Mr. Phillips. Sir.”

  My boss was dressed in a three-piece suit, his hair slicked down to the side. Jake was dressed slightly more casually in a business jacket and slacks, with an amused glint in his eye.

  “Ms. Swenson,” my boss said. He glanced around the lobby, noting the early morning checkouts arriving at the front desk. “How is everything going?”

  “Everything’s running smoothly, sir. Despite last night.”

  He raised an eyebrow as if doubting that statement.

  Jake spoke up. “I heard about last night. How’d everything work out with the police? Did they keep you long?”

  “No, they wrapped it up while I was still on the phone with Mr. Phillips.”

  “And how about you. Do you feel safe?” His eyes darkened sympathetically with those words.

  I felt touched at his concern. “Yes, I’m doing okay.”

  “Mr. Phillips,” Sierra interrupted. “I organized all the insurance papers from the fire yesterday.”

  Oh, my heavens. Was it only yesterday?

  “Ah, thank you.” Mr. Phillips walked over while I bit back a groan. Again, Jake’s eyes took on a humorous glint.

  “It’s not your fault, you know,” Jake said. “These things happen. One of the biggest reasons why I didn’t want to be in the business. All sorts of crazy things happen at hotels.” He raised his eyebrows to punctuate that thought and then strode forward to join his brother.

  My phone vibrated then in the pocket next to my hip. I turned and peeked at the text as unobtrusively as possible.

  It was a text from Ruby - Join us for lunch at Applebacks?

  Who’s us? I wondered, texting back. Sounds great.

  Chapter 18

  Applebacks was busy with a colorful forest of tourists in Hawaiian floral shirts and kids wearing mouse-ear hats. I saw Ruby sitting with her sister in the back and headed over there. Ruby gave me a sympathetic look as I sank into the booth.

  “Rough night?” she asked.

  I tugged at the skin under my eyes to emphasize the bags.

  “Well, I’m glad you could meet us,” she said. Kristi was next to her and nodded in agreement.

  “I’m glad you could come, too. I shouldn't be enabling you.” Kristi sipped her iced tea, and she shook her head at me. “But I also can't deny that having someone who has access to all these people is beneficial to me in solving this case.”

  Ruby smiled at me. It was funny to see the differences between the sisters. Ruby was the laxer of the two, goofy and friendly. Kristi was more professional and serious.

  “Technically, you aren’t.” Ruby pointed out, literally, with her finger swiveling between the two of us. “She's giving you information, and you’re just playing the ‘hot or cold’ game.”

  “You know I’m game,” I smiled. “I want this figured out as fast as you do. It affects my job, not to mention my safety. And even worse, my Momma’s safety.” My eyes started to burn, and I fought back the worry.

  “Is it bad that I hope the murderer is there? I want to bring him down,” Kristi announced. Her fist banged against the tabletop.

  I cringed at Kristi’s outburst, wanting the bad guys to be as far away as possible. Slowly, I responded, “Yeah. I mean, I want him caught, too. I guess if he disappears, it could mean he’ll never be apprehended for it.” I held back my own suspicion that he wasn’t that far away. Specifically, the Palisades.

  “You sure you're not secretly an agent? ‘Apprehended?’” Kristi smirked, arching a brow at me.

  “Shh, it's a secret.” Ruby laughed. “Maisie doesn’t want anyone to know that she has ulterior motives for running around fetching special pastries for one guest or having another's clothing taken to a dry cleaner.”

  “She’s really dedicated to her cover,” Kristi chuckled.

  “I wish that were the case.” For a moment, I could almost dream. “Nah, I live out my detective dreams vicariously through my writing.”

  “Oh yeah! You're writing a mystery, right?” Ruby asked, sipping her Coke.

  “I forgot you’d mentioned that before. So, this stuff is more like homework?” Kristi narrowed her eyes.

  “I have to use it for some good,” I murmured. I didn’t like how they were looking at me.

  “Does that sound as hard-hearted to you as it does me?” Ruby raised her eyebrows at her sister, who shrugged but made no response.

  Something in my gut tightened. I had purposefully kept my writing quiet, and situations like this were one of many reasons why. Did they really think I enjoyed the murder? Yeah, it inspired me, but I had no intention of acknowledging that out loud.

  “Oh, my stars. Maisie! We’re just teasing you,” Ruby said after looking at my face.

  I relaxed and exhaled. “This whole thing is making me a little sensitive,” I admitted.

  “Of course,” she reached over and patted my arm. “It’s going to be okay. Isn’t it, Kristi?”

  Kristi nodded. “I can tell you right now that we are getting very close.”

  The air suddenly felt electrified. Close? Does she mean this is all going to end soon? I hardly dared to hope.

  “Here’s some of what we have now.” She held up a finger. “Completely off the record. If any of this leaks, I’ll deny saying anything.”

  “Of course.” I nodded.

  The waitress came then, breaking the suspenseful tension. “Can I get you gals anything?”

  “I’ll take a Coke for me,” I said. “And a chicken wrap.”

  The other two put their orders in.

  As the waitress walked away, Kristi leaned in again. “We’ve narrowed down our suspect list.”

  “You’ve had a few?” I asked.

  Kristi nodded. Ruby pushed her arm. “For crying out loud, Sis! Spill the tea already!”

  “The widow Olsen’s alibi has so far checked out.” Kristi smiled wisely.

  “What was her alibi?” I asked.

  The waitress returned carrying a tray, and we sat up again. With a smile, she set down a frosted glass in front of me along with our plates of food.

  “Ya’ll think you need anything else?”

  The three of us shook our heads. Ruby’s mouth was already full.

  “Okay, then. Ya’ll holler if you need anything.” She tucked the tray under her arm and headed away. Immediately, the three of us leaned in again.

  “She was at the nail salon. The shop vouched for her, as well as her appointment time. The effects of the insulin would have been rather quick. So, unless she darted to the pool, stuck the victim, pushed him out into the water on a float, and then hurried back to the salon, she isn't the murderer. It doesn't rule out that she could have had someone else do it.”

  I nodded. That alibi seemed pretty solid. I bit into my chicken wrap. Mmm, the barbecue sauce danced on my tongue, both sweet and spicy.

  “And Norman Olsen definitely died of an insulin overdose,” Kristi continued, picking at her
food. She pulled a tomato out from her sandwich and placed it at the edge of her plate. Her nose wrinkled like she’d found a bug.

  “Seems like there still could be a juicy storyline here. 'Lady hires the side guy to knock off the husband.’ Clichéd, but could work.” Ruby nodded to herself.

  I took a long drink of my soda, considering that scenario. It didn't feel right to me, and not because it seemed like the easiest or most prominent answer.

  “I don't know,” I finally admitted. “It seems too obvious. Has anyone come forth with any gossip about her and another man?”

  Kristi shook her head. “Not yet, but we’re digging. We’re going to crack somebody. And soon.”

  “And we would hear, right? The small-town thing?” My gaze flicked towards Ruby, who nodded. “Are there any other suspects?” I asked, dipping a fry in some ketchup.

  Kristi spun her glass in front of her. “There are a plethora of former employees and current disgruntled employees, as well as other companies that he was either working with or working against. The man had a lot of friends, but he also had a lot of people who wanted him gone. Or at least ruined. But, so far, there are none that we’re considering seriously.”

  “What about people running his booth? Any suspects there?” Ruby butted in.

  I nodded, adding, “And, was there anyone close to him that was a diabetic?” I reached for my napkin, only to discover my hands had been fiddling with it on my lap. Embarrassed, I tried to flatten out the ball before wiping my mouth.

  “We're still trying to find out. Unless they tell us, we need a warrant for that kind of medical information. Going through the list has been very time-consuming. One thing that we’ve found that’s interesting—Caleb James went to pharmacy school.”

  “Interesting, how?” Ruby asked.

  “Just trying to put all the pieces together,” Kristi said mysteriously.

  “Oh, for crying out loud.” Ruby rolled her eyes when she saw Kristi wasn’t going to be more forthcoming. She turned to me. “Is the convention going to be over soon?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “Today’s the last day. The big companies are going to do their presentations and job recruitment.”

  “Job recruitment?”

  I nodded. “I actually think I’d have liked to have attended it. One of my favorite authors was there giving some advice. But, between the fire and a migraine, I was knocked out for the count.”

  Ruby made a sad face at me.

  Kristi dipped another French fry. “Well, our hope is that by the time this convention wraps up, we’ll have our case wrapped up too.”

  “How are you planning on doing that?” I asked. I glanced down. My napkin was balled up again. It was a lost cause.

  “Time’s running out for somebody. And there’s only one person left without an alibi who was at the scene of the crime. The same person who had the most to gain,” Kristi said.

  “Who?” I asked. I didn’t need to. I knew exactly who.

  Caleb.

  Chapter 19

  As I left the restaurant, something didn’t sit right with me about Caleb being the main suspect. But, because I’d been so onboard with the idea before, this feeling was taking me by surprise.

  I didn’t understand why the police were ruling out Andy Davis, the kid that got fired from Olsen Studios. And what about Mark Everett, the tennis coach? He spent a lot of time with Caleb.

  I took the long way back to the hotel. I’ll admit it; I really wanted to check out Mrs. Olsen’s house one more time. The sign with the sword drawn through it kept spinning in my mind, and I wanted to see it again. Maybe take a picture of it this time. I could just kick myself for not doing it the last time I saw it. But, at the time, I was shaking from nerves and felt lucky just to get out of there without knocking down a mailbox or two.

  Some Nancy Drew I was.

  It wasn’t long before the Palisades sign came into view. Gorgeous red Canna Lilies bloomed around it. Living this close to the ocean made me appreciate flowers even more. Not all plants could tolerate the soil, especially the closer you got to the salty water. I punched in the code and waited for the steel gates to swing open, breathing in the warm air. The day was gorgeous, and the sun shone in a clear, bluer-than-blue sky. We hadn’t even hit the hottest part of the day yet. The temperature was 95 degrees and still rising at one p.m. Normally, I’d have the car’s top down and a hat tied on my head. But since I was trying to do a bit of reconnaissance—emphasis on trying—I had on my darkest sunglasses instead.

  My inner voice had scolded me on the entire drive. What on earth did I expect to find at the Olsen’s? Maybe Caleb’s car in the driveway? And how exactly would that be weird?

  The neighborhood was just as quiet as the last few times I’d been there, so I hoped I’d continue to go unnoticed. Hey, everyone, I’m a nobody, just a housekeeper going to work. Just a chef’s assistant. A gardener. Not someone snooping around, I promise.

  I took my foot off the gas as I approached the Olsen house. There was a car in the driveway—several to be exact. I crept forward, peeking out the window at the side of the house. A groan slipped out, unintentionally, when I saw that the trash was gone, including the sign. Caleb’s car wasn’t in sight.

  As I drove past the house, I caught a glimpse into the backyard. It was incredible—flowers, meticulously kept hedges, brilliantly green rolling lawn. But what else I saw nearly made me slam on my brakes.

  In the center of a garden, straight out of a magazine, sat a private tennis court. Mrs. Olsen was out there wearing a short white skirt.

  The one playing opposite her was Mark Everett.

  My mouth dropped open. I knew it! This is the second time I’ve caught them together. And he has access to making room keys, and the ability to roam the hotel unnoticed.

  Even more amazing, he wasn’t even on the police’s radar.

  The two were focused on their game, so I stopped to watch. Mrs. Olsen swung and missed, then tipped her head back to laugh. Mark laughed too and called to her encouragingly. He sent a soft serve over the net. Mrs. Olsen’s tan legs flashed as she raced for the serve and sent it back.

  Not exactly like a grieving widow. Another thought struck me. What if Momma was right? What if Mrs. Olsen had been seeing the tennis coach all along? Was that enough motive to have killed her husband?

  Chapter 20

  I drove through the neighborhood and back out through the gate, feeling very unsatisfied. I needed some more internet time, this time maybe a thorough search on Mark Everett.

  Momma wouldn’t be home when I showed up. I knew she was spending time at the salon refreshing her strawberry blonde. I slid my new specially-made key into the lock, and the door clicked open. Bingo ran out of the kitchen with a guilty look on his face.

  “Oh, my stars. What have you been into?”

  He licked his chops and rolled over to expose his belly. Great. I wandered into the kitchen and looked over it carefully. Nothing seemed out of place. The floor was clean, dishes done, counters wiped. I glanced at the table. Just a chair pulled out, and the butter container left out.

  Butter …

  I walked over to the table and glanced at the tub. The smears inside made it undeniable that Bingo had somehow managed to scramble up onto the chair and maybe even on the table. The butter had teeth marks and hair buried deep into the container.

  “Bingo!” I exclaimed. Trying not to gag, I grabbed the container and tossed it into the garbage. I guess that means I’ll be spending even more time than usual in the Park for Pups.

  I wandered out into the hall to scold the basset hound. Bingo was nowhere to be found. That dog is smart. Finally, I located him in Momma’s room. Not in his luxury fleece and cedar bed. No, the animal had managed to squeeze himself into the narrow space between Momma’s king-sized bed and the night stand.

  “Come on out, Bingo,” I coaxed. The dog didn’t move, but his tail thumped against the floor. “It’s okay. I can’t believe it isn’t butter m
yself.” I scratched his back with a smile. When he stubbornly stayed in the corner, I got up to leave. Poor thing was ashamed of himself.

  Back in my room, I lifted the screen of my laptop. The battery was low, so I plugged it in and then went for a glass of sweet tea while the thing booted up. The carpet was soft against my bare feet. I brought my drink back and sat with a contented sigh at my desk. This was my true happy place.

  My fingers flew over the keyboard and brought up a search engine. I typed in Mark Everett and took a sip of tea.

  It was no surprise that the most recent news came up first, his place of employment at Oceanside Hotel. There was a tennis forum as the next choice. I clicked it and scrolled through mundane posts that he’d made about his thoughts on different tennis equipment. The white pages stated his address as twelve miles from the hotel.

  There was an ad for his coaching services and another forum that reviewed tennis coaches. I clicked on that and saw he ranked pretty highly. Review after review praised him, and he seemed booked out for a while.

  It was no wonder the Oceanside contracted with him.

  Other than that, everything seemed pretty boring. I searched out colleges and saw that he’d graduated from the Nova Southeastern University College five years prior.

  The news sent a zing of excitement through me.

  That’s the same one Caleb attended. Mark graduated a little bit earlier, but they’d been there at the same time.

  But what does this mean? Just that they’re long-time friends?

  I staved off the growing frustration with another drink from my tea. Without even thinking about it, my hand wandered around the desk until it located a rubber band—one I always left there. I rolled it over my hand and onto my wrist like a bracelet, and ran a finger under it, spinning it.

  I took a deep breath and slowly felt better.

  Okay. Mrs. Olsen is next.

  I typed in her name, and the search engine came up with a ridiculous number of Olsens. Backtracking, I searched out Norman Olsen and found his wife’s first name.