Deadly Dram

by Melinda Mullet

  Keenan shook my hand, never once lifting his eyes above my chin. He couldn’t have testified to the color of my eyes if his life depended on it. I shivered slightly in spite of the heating. I recognized him immediately from the first night in the Aerie Bar. He was the loud drunk who had been escorted out by security. I recalled Richard and Archie physically turning away from the scene. I’d presumed it was disgust at a gentleman who couldn’t hold his liquor, but now I wondered if they were merely trying to avoid being seen and approached.

  Keenan looked to be somewhere in his mid-fifties. His hair was the lifeless brown color of a bottle dye job. His beard and mustache were equally flat, but his nose was a robust shade of crimson. He was wearing a black tie and a pair of green plaid trousers with a navy jacket that appeared to have been a bit of an afterthought.

  The green plaid trousers were certainly popular. They were the second pair I’d seen today, or, more likely, I suddenly realized, the second time I’d seen this pair. Keenan must have been the man talking to Joey in the lobby this afternoon. I hadn’t seen his face, but surely there weren’t two pairs of gauche, green plaid trousers in a place like this.

  I bent my knees slightly and managed to catch Keenan’s eyes. When they met mine, I could see his thoughts were not on whisky or lost jobs at the moment. Cam was right, he did have a somewhat single-minded focus. Still, there was something earthy about him that many women would find attractive.

  He smiled roguishly. “Nice to see the Glen being run by a beautiful young woman and not just sold off to one of the big buggers.”

  “It’s what Ben would’ve wanted,” I replied, ignoring the tacky come-on. “Too many of the best small distilleries are being bought up, but I suppose it’s not surprising. It’s an expensive business.”

  “Aye, costs a lot, but there’s plenty to be made as well, especially for the big guys.”

  “Cam says you used to work for Edenburn before you joined Marchbanks.” I saw a cloud pass over Keenan’s face. “Edenburn was a lovely distillery,” I prompted, and, based on the pictures I’d looked at earlier, it was.

  “Magical a’right, till MacInnes sold out, God rest ’is soul.” Keenan made a halfhearted attempt to cross himself.

  “Didn’t think you were all that fond of him, from what I’ve heard.”

  “Respect for the dead,” Keenan muttered. “Mind you, if he were still alive I’d tell you he was a right bastard. Sold Edenburn to Central without a thought for the rest of us. He and his cronies made a bloody killing on it, they did. I’d worked for him for more ’n twenty years. Most of the others who sold out made provisions for their best employees, but not Archie. He just threw us to the wolves.”

  “Must have made a lot of people angry.”

  “Too right it did. I sued, but got nowt for my time and money. Central has them big-city solicitors. They eat men like us for lunch.” Keenan took a healthy swig of the drink in his hand. “Hadn’t a chance.”

  I put on my best sympathetic face. “That must have been frustrating.”

  “Aye, but you have to put food on table for the bairns, so you move on.”

  Cam rejoined us, handing us each a fresh drink. “Glad you stayed for dinner tonight, Bruce. You should’ve stayed yesterday.”

  Keenan shrugged. “Wasn’t invited.”

  “But you were here the first night, weren’t you?” I said.

  “That was quite a day,” Keenan confessed. “There were some lovely whiskies out for the tasting. Liked a lot of them, but had to go back to some I wasn’t sure about an’ try ’em a couple more times.” He winked broadly to accentuate the humor of his remark. “After a whole day and night of boozin’, I couldn’t afford another run-in with the constabulary on the way home. Ended up sleeping on the floor in Cam’s room.”

  “You were a mess,” Cam said with a chuckle. “Had to go get him at the golf club bar and half carry him back.”

  So that’s where he ended up. “Shame you missed last night,” I circled back.

  Keenan cocked his head and gave me a questioning look. “Aye, well, I had a wee event of my own to attend.”

  Was that event in Archie’s room around midnight? Keenan’s words surfaced in my mind like bubbles in a glass of champagne: fiery, flamboyant, and intractable. A man who was not afraid to speak his mind or draw attention to himself. A stubborn man, but loyal, I sensed.

  Only MacInnes hadn’t returned that loyalty. Now all three of the men he must despise were judging a whisky competition on his doorstep. Had Keenan decided it was time for payback? He would certainly have read about the young man who poisoned his father in the paper. According to Michaelson, it was the lead story in every paper in the country. I’d missed it, but I was likely out of the country. Not only that, Patrick said the list of judges was made public a month ago. If Keenan saw that Richard, Archie, and Hugh would all be here this week, he could well have been planning his revenge since before Christmas.

  Cam had an alibi for him overnight the night Richard died, but there was plenty of time earlier in the evening for Keenan to have found his way into Richard’s room if he had one of the brass keys. Michaelson would think of Sophie immediately, but I wondered about Joey. Keenan was talking to him in the lobby earlier this evening. And I’d swear Joey was waiting to meet someone when I saw him underneath Archie’s window. Was it Keenan? If Joey managed to grab Richard and Archie’s brass keys from the manager’s office, he and Keenan would have complete freedom to come and go without detection. I thought of the dog whistle under my bed. Had Joey been in our room? It was a frightening thought, but I suddenly felt as if I’d made more headway in the last two minutes than in the last two days.

  The gong rang for dinner, and Cam and Bruce drifted off to a table in the back of the room. I was at the table with Grant and Hugh, and Hugh managed to arrange things so that he sat between Brenna and me, with Grant on the far side of Brenna. Hugh was quite fit for a man of his age. It wouldn’t be as easy to poison him as it had been with Richard and Archie.

  In many ways Hugh still reminded me of a footballer. Cocky, a bit flamboyant, and headstrong, but quick to turn on the charm when it served his purpose. He was oozing charm in Brenna’s direction, but I felt the pressure of his hand on my leg under the tablecloth. I dug my nails into his wrist sharply as I removed his paw from my knee. He grimaced but never looked my way. Grant looked confused, but Brenna seemed to get the picture.

  I kept turning to look over my shoulder, reassuring myself that Keenan hadn’t left the room. He stayed with Cam all through dinner, and when another brief meeting for all the judges was convened, he and Cam retired to the lobby bar together.

  Patrick took over watching Hugh during the meeting, and I knew this was my opportunity to try to get into his room when I could be sure he wouldn’t be there. I followed the guests from our table into the bar and ordered a drink before excusing myself to the powder room. Everyone was busy talking, and I felt confident that my departure had gone unnoticed.

  I’d looked up Hugh’s room number in the guest book before we left for dinner. He was in 243. If I played my cards right, I should be able to steal his key from the office and use it to get in and search his room. I approached the front desk but wasn’t lucky enough to find it unmanned. I’d have to improvise. The clerk’s name tag said Norman, and I was pleased to see he was not someone I recognized.

  “I’d like to put something in the safe, if I may.”

  “Certainly, Ms. Logan.”

  I might not have known him, but as a well-trained member of the Lodge staff, he certainly knew me. He was impeccably turned out, as were all the staff, but his nose bothered me. It was annoyingly crooked, as if it had been broken at some point and not properly set. It was the kind of lack of symmetry that I always found unsettling, and I couldn’t seem to shake the image from my mind.

  Norman the Nose led me ba
ck through the door behind the guest check-in and into the manager’s office. When I’d stepped in earlier, I’d noticed that the safe, an old-fashioned affair with a huge copper and steel wheel on the front, was located on the far side of the room behind Larson’s ornate mahogany desk.

  I removed the pearl choker from my neck and waited while Norman opened the safe, his back turned to me. At his request I extended the necklace, which he placed carefully in a box before sealing it with tape and asking me to sign. As he replaced the box in the safe and meticulously relocked it, I backed toward the key cubbies and reached my hand into the slot for room 243, relieved to feel cool metal beneath my fingers. I silently withdrew the brass key, never taking my eyes off the Nose. I tucked the oversized key into the waistband of my skirt. Thanks to Patrick, I didn’t have much room to conceal anything.

  I got a receipt for my pearls, thanked the Nose, and made my way up the stairs as quickly as I could without looking obvious. Turndown service would be over by now, and most of the guests were either in the dining room or in the bar. I saw no one as I hustled down the hall, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting, but I knew I had to hustle. The judges’ meeting was supposed to be short, and I had no idea how long I had before Hugh returned to his room. I pulled the key out and tried it in the lock, but it refused to turn. I pulled it back out and studied it again more closely.

  Damn, damn, damn.

  I’d grabbed the wrong key.

  Chapter 15

  The key in my hand had 334 etched in tiny print into the back. It was the key to our room on the floor above. Someone had put it back in the wrong slot.

  How the hell was I going to get back into the manager’s office without arousing suspicion? I’d only just put the choker in the safe. I could hardly take it right back out again. Norman the Nose would think I was mad. I stood for a minute wracking my brain before raising a hand to tug on my earlobe. I’d worn earrings for the first time in years, hoping to draw attention away from my cleavage, and they were giving me a headache.

  For all of my years of injury and depravation in the field, I’d always been ridiculously squeamish about poking holes through my ears. For once I was glad. I pulled the clip-on earring off my left ear and rubbed the aching skin. I concealed the key and the earring and scooted back to the front desk with a plan.

  “So sorry to disturb you, but I seem to have lost one of my earrings,” I said, gesturing to the now-naked lobe.

  Norman looked up from his computer screen, his face a studied mask of concern.

  “I know I had it after dinner, and the only other place I’ve been was here.”

  “Of course, miss. I’ll be happy to take a look.”

  “Oh, no, don’t trouble yourself. I can do it,” I insisted.

  “It won’t take me a moment,” the Nose intoned.

  I stood pacing by the desk, trying to figure out what to do next.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t see anything,” he said as he returned to his place behind the front desk. “Perhaps it is in your room?”

  “I didn’t get that far. It must be here.”

  “I can ask our staff to give the bar and dining room a thorough going-over.”

  This was not working out at all as planned. I’d have to pull out all the stops. “That earring was a cherished gift from my recently departed uncle,” I moaned. “I just can’t believe I’ve lost it.” I leaned heavily on the counter, pretending to sway on my feet.

  “Please don’t distress yourself, miss. Come away and sit down in here. I’m sure we’ll find it.”

  I leaned on the Nose and allowed him to lead me back to the office, where he settled me in a chair.

  I gave a weak smile. “Thank you so much. If I could just have a glass of water?”

  The Nose hustled out to get the water, and I jumped to my feet. I had to be quick. I slipped our key back into the correct slot and began to rummage through the boxes, starting with the ones on either side of the empty 243. But within moments I could hear footsteps approaching down the hall. I was already out of time. I had to grab a key or lose my chance. I snatched the key from the slot directly above 243 and concealed it in my waistband. I could only hope that was where the key I needed had landed. As I hastened back to the chair, I dropped the earring from my hand to the floor, kicking it under the desk in front of me.

  I took the water glass Norman offered gratefully and continued to play the part of the flustered guest, nervously twisting a tissue around in my fingers until I dropped it on the floor. I bent to retrieve it and exclaimed excitedly that I had spotted the lost earring.

  “I can’t imagine how I missed that,” the Nose said, bemused. “I looked under the desk most carefully.”

  “Never mind. All’s well,” I said, suddenly revived. I hastened away with profuse thanks and a promise to send a note of commendation to Mr. Larson tomorrow.

  As I reached the first-floor landing, I pulled the key out and squinted at the tiny engraving. My gamble had paid off. It was the right key. I heaved a sigh of relief. Now, if only I still had enough time to get in, look around, and get back out undetected.

  No one was around as I approached the door. I popped the key into the lock and almost jumped out of my skin when Grant appeared from out of the nearby stairwell.

  “I knew you were up to something,” he whispered.

  “You nearly scared me to death,” I hissed. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Trying to keep you out of trouble.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Grant raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Come on. Get the door open and let’s see what’s going on in there.”

  “One of us breaking in is bad enough,” I said. “We can’t have both of us getting caught.”

  “Fine, you stand guard and I’ll go in.”

  I looked at him wide-eyed. “No way. I’m the one who got the key,” I said, turning the key in the lock. This time there was a soft clicking noise.

  “Looks like we’re both in,” Grant said as he pushed me through the door, closing it behind us.

  I glared at him silently in the dark.

  “Well, we couldn’t just stand there in the hall and argue, could we?” he insisted. “Now, let’s see if anything looks suspicious.”

  I reached for the light switch and looked around the room in the muted light. Sophie had been in to do the turndown service. The towels had been refreshed and the toilet paper folded into the obligatory triangle. Never could understand why that was a thing. Why would you want someone touching your toilet paper? The bed had been turned down and a schedule of activities left on the pillow along with a chocolate mint. I picked the mint up with a tissue and sniffed it.

  “Probably should take this just to be on the safe side,” I said. There was no other food or drink in the room that I could see, other than the sealed minibar provisions.

  I picked up the two glasses by the ice bucket and sniffed at both of them. They smelled of dish soap.

  “Maybe we should wash them out again, just in case,” Grant suggested.

  “We’d be washing away evidence,” I pointed out.

  “We could be saving a life,” Grant countered.

  “I guess it’ll be a good chance to see if anyone looks surprised or disappointed that Hugh’s still well in the morning,” I said. Grant took the glasses to the bathroom and I heard him turn on the sink.

  Hugh Ashworth-Jones had abandoned several file folders on the desk along with a pile of phone messages. The majority were from Jude MacNamara, three of them as recent as this afternoon. I flipped through the file folders. The first was a prospectus from an investment adviser; the second contained a list of the Quaich nominees by category. Numbers were written in pen next to each. A quick glance was enough to show that Oliver was right. The foreign entries were being assigned an odd number along with s
ome of the smaller distilleries. All of the even-numbered distilleries were Scottish, including Abbey Glen. I’d lay odds that Hugh was the other part of the “we” MacNamara had mentioned to Oliver. Tigers age and even mellow, but they don’t often change their stripes. Hugh the match rigger was now Hugh the whisky rigger.

  There didn’t seem to be anything else to see, so once Grant had dried and replaced the glasses, I wrapped the mint in the tissue inside the towel he’d used to dry the glasses and followed him toward the door, flipping off the lights as we went. Suddenly we both froze as the sound of voices in the hall and a card being inserted in the key slot echoed through the room. We looked around frantically as the tumblers rotated. Grant pointed to the closet. I shook my head, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the thick brocade drapes covering the window. We yanked them across in front of us and froze just as the door swung open. Grant pulled me hard against him, and we both twisted our feet sideways to ensure our shoes were obscured by the heavy fabric.

  The overhead light switched on and I peeped through the split in the curtain. It was Hugh, closely followed by Patrick. The judges’ meeting was over.

  “Really, Patrick, old chap,” Hugh was saying. “I don’t think the view from my window is any different from yours. You’re only one floor up, aren’t you?”

  “I like to keep track of these things,” Patrick replied, rather lamely. “That way when you book, you know which room to ask for.”

  “Well, help yourself,” Hugh said. “I’m just going to change.”

  Hugh hummed softly to himself as he removed his jacket and went to hang it in the closet.

  Patrick was moving toward the window. He grabbed the curtains and threw them back. The three of us stood there looking at each other in varying degrees of shock and surprise. Patrick’s eyes got wide and he quickly threw the drapes across again. “You’re quite right,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “View’s much better from upstairs.”