If Ethel was wandering off and leaving the door open, there would have been plenty of opportunity for someone to slip in and plant the vial. Finally, a viable how.
“That actually helps,” I said. “Thanks, Trev. You should get some rest.”
* * *
—
I hurried back down to our room, still clutching Larson’s printout. Liam jumped up on the bed and I joined him, spreading the sheet out and studying it carefully. The key to our room had a master code with a four-digit serial number extension that changed with each key. I could follow Patrick’s movements. Always with the same serial number on the key. I could see my own comings and goings at the right times. Same master code, different serial number. The only other entry was a housekeeping key. The same one each time, so it must have been Sophie’s. She entered once at eleven twelve and once at seven thirty-four. Both the usual cleaning times. No other key card.
Liam’s collar jangled as he jumped from the bed and went to the door. I heard a knock and hesitated, but he wasn’t growling. Looking through the peephole, I saw Michaelson standing in the hall.
I let him in and gestured to the settee, noticing that he was still wearing the same clothes he’d had on when we parted at four in the morning. So much for going home and sorting things out with his daughter.
“Any news?” I asked before he could finish saying hello.
“I got confirmation from the lab just a few minutes ago that your toothpaste had been laced with a small quantity of highly concentrated nicotine.”
“Could it have been lethal?”
“For the wrong person, yes, but both you and Grant are strong and in good health. Normally you would’ve just been dizzy and extremely sick. It looks like Grant was dizzy and fell. He’d probably have been fine by now if he hadn’t hit his head on the side of that tub when he went down.”
“Then the poisoner wasn’t looking to kill me, just make me ill,” I said. I suppose I should be glad Keenan wasn’t actually trying to kill me, but it was little comfort for Grant, who’d taken the fall. “I see you let Trevor Simpson go. Does that mean you’ve given up on him as a suspect?”
“Couldn’t hold him any longer without charging him.” Michaelson sighed. “But I’m still not ready to clear him.”
“Were his fingerprints on the vial under the bed?”
“No. Nor on the broken glass under MacInnes’s window. Whoever handled them used gloves, but both contained nicotine.”
“What about the wrapper from the chocolates?”
“Dozens of prints. Young Arthur’s, the lad who unpacked the shipping boxes in the mailroom, MacInnes’s, and Sophie’s.”
Sophie’s from delivering or Sophie’s from tainting the truffles, I wondered. “Any word on how the truffles were poisoned?”
“The lab found a small needle hole in the bottom of each chocolate. Looks like the killer injected the nicotine into the cream center.”
“Someone who just happened to have a needle on hand,” I noted.
“They’re not hard to get,” Michaelson said. “Any chemist’s will carry diabetic supplies. And with all the geriatric types staying here, wouldn’t be too hard for a maid to find one lying around.”
“And the toothpaste?”
“Wiped clean. Only Patrick’s prints and Grant’s.”
“I ran into Sophie this morning. She said she’d heard about the ambulances at the hotel last night. Wanted to know what happened.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her it was all very strange. One minute Grant was brushing his teeth, the next he was out cold on the floor.”
I saw the edges of Michaelson’s lips twitch upward. “A good reporter’s blind. How did she react?”
“I’d say she was surprised and concerned. She rushed off, supposedly to check on Mrs. Easton, but she might have been looking for Keenan.”
“I’ve already spoken with both the maids,” Michaelson said, checking his notes. “Sophie claims she left the hotel last night at eight o’clock. Went straight home. Her roommates confirmed that. She denies having touched the toothpaste. Night before, she was home and in bed by ten; again confirmed by her roommates.”
I pulled out the room log. “According to this, she was in here at seven thirty to clean up and feed Liam.” I handed the printout to Michaelson. “What about the other maid, Ethel. Was she around?”
“Off last night, according to Mrs. Easton. The first team is back on again as of yesterday.”
“I found out something else this morning that might be relevant. Sophie and Joey from the Gundog Training Academy are an item. Not public knowledge, mind you, as the hotel doesn’t encourage staff fraternization.”
Michaelson made a note on his pad. “Joey was on my list of people to talk to today.”
“He told me that he gave the necklace I found to Sophie as a gift, so you were right, there was nothing sinister about finding it in my room. It must’ve fallen off while Sophie was in here cleaning. But I still think you should talk to Joey. I told you I saw him talking with Keenan in the lobby the other day, and I also caught him hanging around under Archie’s window the morning after the murder.”
Michaelson looked up. “Why didn’t you tell me that last bit?”
“I guess it didn’t resonate at the time. I was more focused on the vial I found.”
“Don’t edit the information you give me,” he said gruffly.
“I didn’t mean to.” I thought about what Trevor had said this morning about Ethel. It was probably worth sharing, it just wasn’t always easy to find a way to work these things into a conversation with Michaelson. “Did you know that Ethel was Trevor’s maid?” I asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Did you also know that she has a habit of leaving the guest room doors propped open while she’s cleaning, even when she goes down the hall for towels?”
“You’re trying to tell me it would be easy to plant a nicotine vial in Trevor’s room to frame him.”
“I’m just saying,”
“I was aware of this. Have you seen Bruce Keenan around this morning?”
“He was down bright and early. Looks like he stayed the night with a lady friend, according to Cam.”
“I spoke to several of the guests in the lobby bar last night. He was definitely there, but no one could swear he was present the entire time. He could have made a detour through your room.”
“Then you agree that he’s a viable suspect.”
“Never said he wasn’t,” Michaelson insisted, without elaborating.
“I lay awake thinking about it last night,” I said, encouraged by Michaelson’s acceptance. “It’s a long shot. Keenan would have to have been prepared, with poison in hand, and lifted the key from the manager’s office at just the right moment. And for what it’s worth, Liam would have barked the place down if a stranger came in the room. Now, if Joey had a brass key and came in, Liam would have welcomed him.”
“Damn those brass keys,” Michaelson said. “They’re a security risk. I don’t know why the management insists on keeping them.”
“I’ve wandered into the manager’s office when the desk was unattended,” I said. “Anyone could steal one if they were determined.”
“It’s time I had another look at those keys,” Michaelson said.
“Can I go with you?”
Michaelson’s phone buzzed. He raised a hand to halt our conversation and went to the far side of the room to answer. I excused myself to the bathroom to brush my hair. I stole one of Patrick’s single-use toothpaste packs and brushed my teeth. When I was done I stood waiting while Michaelson finished talking, his back to me. In our professional dealings he was measured and self-possessed, but this conversation clearly wasn’t going his way. I could hear the tension and strain in his voice.
He
hung up and turned back to the room. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
I’d never really thought of Michaelson as a father figure, but then again, I’d never really thought too much about Michaelson. “Did you get things sorted with your daughter?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It’ll have to wait till I’m finished here.”
“Fourteen’s a tough age,” I offered.
“For all concerned.”
I was dying to ask about the wife, but Michaelson looked as if he regretted having said anything at all last night.
“If you want to come, let’s get going.” He hustled me out the door and down the hall. Liam was left whining in the room.
It was nine thirty and a new shift had started at the front desk. A young woman named Bianca showed us into the back office and pointed out the wall of cubbyholes. “We still use this if someone leaves a handwritten note for a guest. It goes into the cubby to be delivered.”
“Who delivers them?” I asked.
“Usually one of the bellboys, unless it’s urgent. Then one of the desk staff will take it up.”
“And this is the only place the brass keys are kept?” Michaelson asked.
“As far as I know.”
“Any security to prevent someone from just walking in and grabbing one?” I asked.
Bianca shrugged. “There’s usually someone at the front desk.”
“Usually, but not always,” Michaelson clarified. “When you leave the desk, do you lock the office?”
Bianca stood up straight and adjusted her suit jacket. “If we’re going to be gone for any length of time.”
The brass keys seemed so unwieldy. I couldn’t imagine wanting to carry one around in my purse or pocket. “Do guests just hold on to these big keys like they do the plastic cards?” I asked.
“No, they usually drop them at the front desk when they go out and we file them back.”
Michaelson was making notes. “Anyone using the brass keys now?”
“We have a couple of guests at the moment.”
I peered into the cubby for our room, 334. The key lay in the box where I’d left it last night. But the adjacent boxes—332, Richard’s room, and 336, Grant’s—were empty. I took a key out of another box and noticed it was the wrong key, just as Hugh’s had been last night.
“Do the keys often get mixed up?” I asked.
“I suppose they must,” Bianca said. “They all look the same.”
“You want to help?” Michaelson said, turning to me. “Go through all those boxes and see how many of the keys have been misfiled and make a note of the ones that are missing.”
“But…”
“It’ll keep you safe and out of trouble for now.”
Michaelson went off to find Joey, and I could’ve sworn I saw a twinkle in his eye for the first time in days. The front desk bell chimed and Bianca hustled out front, leaving me alone to sort through the keys.
It felt like a waste of time, but I found eight keys that were placed in the wrong cubbies, including the key to Grant’s room. The keys to Richard’s room and Archie’s room were missing. And, of course, the key to Hugh’s room. But the key to Trevor’s room was still there. What I couldn’t tell was how long ago the keys had gone missing, or if any had been taken and replaced.
As I left the office and stepped out from behind the desk, I pulled up a picture of Bruce Keenan on my phone from the Marchbanks website. I held it up for Bianca. “Have you seen this man hanging around the hotel?”
“He’s not a registered guest, but I have seen him around.”
“Can you tell me anything about him?”
Bianca picked up a stack of papers and started to turn away. “You can ask security, but I know nothing about him.”
Clearly Bianca wasn’t going to talk, so I decided to try the maids up on five and six. I had no luck finding Ethel, but the maid on the sixth floor this morning recognized Keenan. According to her name tag, she was Gloria.
“Saw him earlier today,” Gloria admitted. “Bit surprised ’cause he’s not in the guest book. Just an overnight visitor, I guess.”
“Which room was he staying in?”
Gloria pursed her lips. “Can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“Was it a female guest on this floor?”
“Couldn’t confirm or deny that,” she said stiffly. “We’re not allowed to talk about our guests’ private business.”
Gloria was not a chatty soul. I’d have to hope I’d have better luck with the rest of the staff. “Is Ethel around?” I asked.
“She was sent back to the laundry. She only fills in up here when we’re short-staffed.”
I asked for directions to the laundry, but as I walked back through the lobby Bianca called to me from the front desk. “A message for you, miss.”
I opened the envelope and found a note from Joey. “Took Liam for a walk. Can you meet me behind the hotel? Where I saw you before.”
I swung by the room, grabbed my coat, and trotted down the back stairs and out the door. Joey was throwing a ball with Liam, who was on his way back, toward us, ears streaming back in the wind. If a dog could laugh, he was.
Joey turned as Liam shot past him and dropped the ball at my feet. He walked toward me stiffly. “I just got a visit from Inspector Michaelson, and now he’s off to talk to Sophie again.” Joey lashed out at a rock on the ground with his foot and sent it flying. “I suppose we have you to thank for this?”
“I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone at the Lodge. The police are another matter. Besides, Michaelson hasn’t singled you two out. He’s talking to everyone who’s been in contact with the victims or Bruce Keenan.”
“But they seem to be focusing on Sophie.” He fumed. “She hasnae done anything wrong.”
“If she hasn’t done anything wrong, then she’ll be fine.”
Joey paced back and forth. “Why would they suspect her at all?” he said angrily. “I just don’t understand.”
“She does have access to all the guests’ rooms,” I pointed out.
“What of it? It’s her job, for God’s sake. She doesn’t know any of these men. Why would she want to hurt any of them?”
“She could be helping someone,” I suggested.
“Helping them to kill guests?” Joey looked furious. “Never.”
I winced. In my heart of hearts I tended to agree with Joey, but the circumstantial evidence was significant. “How can you be so sure?” I challenged.
“She just wouldn’t.”
From the anguish in Joey’s eyes, I knew that there was a lot I wasn’t being told. “I take it you and Sophie are serious?”
Joey looked totally miserable. “We’re getting married in the summer.”
“Then you know that Sophie came into some money recently?” I asked.
Joey looked taken aback. “Yes, I know, but how do you know?”
“Police check into most everything in a case like this,” I said, being intentionally evasive. “When they see someone who doesn’t usually have cash with a chunk of money to spend, they start asking questions.”
Joey started pacing again. “The money came from her auntie Vi. She passed away at Christmas. They must have seen that. She left Sophie over ten thousand pounds. We’re using it as a down payment on a cottage of our own.”
Well, that answered that question. “She’ll have to tell the police.”
“If they ask, she will, but what if they still think she’s involved in some way? She could lose her job. You have some pull with the police,” Joey said earnestly. “Sophie says you’re in tight with that investigator. Can you help us? Please?”
“I don’t know how much I can do, but I’ll try. First, though, you have to level with me. What were you doing hanging around
out here yesterday morning? I know you weren’t looking for Freya. Those dogs are too well trained to run off.”
Joey flushed. “I was waiting for Sophie. She asked me to come and meet her. She’s been so shaken up by all this, but she can only get away for a moment or two with Mrs. E around. She keeps her hopping.”
“Did you see anyone else out here?”
“No, just you.”
I didn’t know whether to believe him or not.
Joey grabbed my arm. “Please, you’ve got to help her.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Liam nudged my leg and I bent down to retrieve the ball. I sent it winging toward the trees and he skittered away with gusto. “Just out of curiosity, how did you get Liam out of my room?”
Joey looked embarrassed. “I went to the door and you weren’t there. So I told Mrs. E that you wanted me to take him out and she let me in. She knows he’s been coming down to me regular-like. She stayed with me, though,” Joey said, suddenly looking nervous. “She wouldn’t let anyone be alone in a guest’s room.”
“I know she wouldn’t,” I said, but Mrs. Easton was a trusting soul and she might not have seen Joey leaving something behind. Suddenly I wanted to go up and give our room a good going-over.
Liam returned and I handed the ball back to Joey. I watched him stride off toward the kennels. Intense, calculating, and sturdy. Calculating gave me pause. Thoughtful and analytical, or ruthless and scheming. It was a trait that could go either way. Sophie’s money had been explained. It would be easy enough for Michaelson to verify. However, Joey’s explanation of his presence under Archie’s window was less convincing.
Chapter 19
Liam and I returned to the room to thaw out. He immediately sprawled on the hearth rug in front of the fire to let the steam rise off of his damp coat. I looked around the room. Sophie had been in to tidy up, but I couldn’t see anything that looked different or out of place. No new food or drink, no new glassware. The only thing that hadn’t been there before was an envelope propped on my pillow with FROM MATTHEW scrawled across the front in Patrick’s hand. I opened the packet of documents and began picking through the Met’s findings.
Deadly Dram Page 23
