A Merry Christmas Anniversary Mystery Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #9 (Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Series)

by Anna Celeste Burke

"I'll explain about the 'cat chat hotline,'" Jack told me.

  "I'll take care of the dead body issue on this end," I responded as Frank and Jessica looked at us. "Call me and fill us in when you have more information so I can update Charlie when he gets here."

  "You can count on it," Jack replied.

  "No unnecessary risk-taking from you two either," Jessica chided them.

  "Promise!" They shouted, bolting from the suite.

  "Now, let's settle the rebellions underway. Beasts first, then the kitchen crew," I suggested.

  4 A Christmas Harlequin

  "Cat chat hotline?" Jessica asked as soon as the door closed behind Jack and Frank.

  "Take care of what dead body issue?" Kendra added.

  "The cat chat hotline is what Jack calls the informal network that passes information around in the 'Cat Factory,' which is our nickname for Marley World. There's a chat room for team members, and they refer to it as the cat chat room, but it's more than that. The network spreads news faster than you can ask me if I'm 'fur-real?' Not that it'll necessarily be all that reliable as it gets passed along."

  "Wait until my cat pack hears about this," Jessica mumbled.

  "Your what?" I asked.

  "I'll explain later," Jessica replied as she was immediately interrupted by Kendra.

  "Cat chat hotline. That's so cute. I've got to share it!" Kendra exclaimed.

  Jessica locked eyes with me and nodded as if she understood how fast news spread behind the scenes at Marvelous Marley World.

  "To answer your question, Kendra, before we go downstairs, I want to make sure we keep the news about a dead man to ourselves. Jack assured me it's not Max. If the word gets out about a death anywhere in New Arcadia, the simplest response is to say 'no comment.'"

  "If someone asks me if Max is dead, can I say no?"

  "If the word gets out there's a dead man and someone asks you point-blank if it's Max Marley, it's okay to say no. The other response to questions about what happened today is to say you don't have details, but Charlie Magnum, Marley World Chief Financial Officer, will hold a press conference late this afternoon."

  "Good. Otherwise, I'll keep my mouth shut. Can we go disarm Larry now?" Kendra asked.

  "Let's heck on the menagerie that was tearing up the place minutes ago," I replied.

  "I hope Anastasia's not chewing on your shoes. She doesn't usually do that, but I've never seen her so disobedient or … Aw," Jessica said, switching to a whisper when we spotted the furbabies. Kendra, who'd followed us, cooed softly. Anastasia was sound asleep in the middle of the bed with Miles and Ella napping on either side of her. We quietly slipped out of the room, dashed toward the door, motioning for the two women to follow me.

  "You should come with us, Jessica. I may need legal advice, depending on how rough I have to get with Larry."

  "That's more my speed than herding cats being led astray by a naughty poodle."

  "They're going to be out for hours after all the excitement this morning," I replied. "Just in case… Felix."

  "What can I do for you, Georgie?"

  "Have me paged, please, if you hear bellowing or barking from our furry friends."

  "Or any crashing sounds," Jessica added. "During their rampage, they tilted the lampshades in both bedrooms before I fixed them. One sweep of Anastasia's tail could have done worse than that."

  "Your wish is my command," Felix responded. "I'll make sure the water bowls remain full too. The dog—uh, Anastasia—consumes more water than the two cats combined. I presume you'll return before feeding time."

  "Yes, Felix. Thanks for your help. It's a huge relief that you're watching them."

  "I live to serve…well, I don't actually live, do I? I look forward to your feedback about my babysitting acumen," Felix added, then quit speaking.

  "That's a relief," Jessica added as she opened the door.

  "I agree. I was afraid we were in for one of Felix's standup comic routines."

  "I heard that," Felix responded. "That comment was an insensitive jab at an appendage-less entity who cannot stand up at all."

  "I'm sorry. I was teasing. I'm relieved you're willing to mind the home front while we end the kitchen rebellion below. What would I do without you?"

  "Well, you might stick around to 'cat-ernize' with the felines. Then you couldn't deal with the cat-astrophe that went on this morning, which isn't the least bit a-mew-sing. Furr-rendering to a canine gone wild would be a doggone shame, wouldn't it? After all, there could be a furr-ocious attacker still on the loose, and Max is missing!"

  "You've made your point, Felix. Thank you."

  "Goodbye for now. Don't worry."

  "Let's go," I said, opening the suite with Jessica and Kendra on my heels. As we waited for the elevator, I suddenly worried that I was taking advantage of Jessica or presuming too much about her willingness to stick around.

  "Jessica, I can't imagine what you've put off to be here today. If you have work to do, we can find workspace for you at the Visitor Center until Charlie arrives, and I'm free to go. Jack and I have a car parked underground. If you give me your address, you don't have to wait around."

  "I'd love to see more of the hotel. Frank says it's a marvel—not just because of its architectural beauty, but because of how seamlessly they've integrated eco-friendly technology into the hotel's functioning and services. That includes the kitchen where gardens they use gardens in the hotel and on the resort grounds to grow fresh produce," Jessica replied.

  "That's a perfect topic to bring up around Larry. It might put him in a more cooperative mood. He loves to tell people that the garden resort isn't just about its ornamental beauty," Kendra asserted as we stepped into the elevator. "Indoors, the hanging gardens are part of an aquaculture and hydroponic farm. Most fresh produce, including herbs and a few spices, are grown here at the resort. They even farm seafood by recycling nutrients from the plants to seafood and back to the plants. Right now, we're giving away food since we grow so much and aren't open to the public yet."

  I let Kendra keep the conversation going as we made the short trip to the lobby. Max was excited about how successful the farming project had been almost from the beginning. Some of the biodome habitats are also part of the "farm." More exotic fruits and vegetables are grown in habitats that support them. In others, they raise ducks, hens, and game birds for their eggs and meat.

  Kendra's monologue triggered a memory of Max ranting about "ignorance" and "fear" being almost as big a problem as money when it came to building New Arcadia. Not everyone was happy about his use of cutting-edge innovations. Max called them "Luddites," referring to the textile workers in England who violently opposed the introduction of machine technology in the mills where they worked. They opposed innovation because they feared losing their jobs to the machines, which they smashed to pieces.

  In Max's tirade, the anger and fear he faced came more from those who owned the companies, not their workers. They worried his efforts would hurt their bottom line. I had a hard time imagining anything Max was doing that threatened the titans of industry in energy, agriculture, housing, transportation, or any other arena. Even his city-sized introduction of new technology was more a novelty than a revolution.

  Max was more knowledgeable about the strength of the opposition he faced. Could someone be trying to sabotage Max's dream? I wondered as the elevator came to a halt. Maybe Charlie would have more information about the existence of such threats.

  We stepped out of the elevator into a short corridor. As we exited the hall, the lobby and atrium came into view. A wave of dismay hit me.

  "No. Not Max's beautiful tree!" I cried. It tilted at a forty-five-degree angle. The beautiful star at the top appeared to be dangling as if perilously close to crashing to the floor.

  "Should I have warned you?" Jessica asked. "Frank claims it's stable and maintenance can set it upright, but it's not a priority."

  "That's what I've heard too," Kendra added. "As you can tell, they shut o
ff the holiday music. That's supposed to make it harder to communicate if there's another emergency. It's sad, I know—as if Scrooge walked in here and stole Christmas."

  "You've got that right," I added with my bottom lip poked out, pouting as we shuffled past the tree. That's when I noticed movement. I leaned in more closely to see what was moving. Suddenly, what I thought was a mannequin turned to face us. We all gasped as a masked figure spoke.

  "Why are you three lovely women so glum?" The man asked. He wore a checkered harlequin costume of red, green, and white with a triangular hat. "We're working on it, see? Scrooge can't steal Christmas with the bots around."

  In the wreckage, bots, like those that had carried our luggage, moved among the branches. Another version of a bot was sucking up bits of broken ornaments, glitter, and needles that had fallen from the glorious tree. The bot's top opened, and spindly appendages emerged to pick up and toss a chunk of a broken ornament inside the bin that had appeared. I'd seen an auto-bot cleaner like it before at the Visitor Center, where they're also used to tidy up. There must have been half a dozen of them here, though.

  "This a real team effort, and we have lots of helpers," the harlequin added, pointing upward. When our eyes followed his pointed finger, we expelled another astonished breath. Spider-like creatures were scrambling up nearly invisible wires that must have held the tree upright and kept it stable. As we stared, the tree moved up a few inches. I glanced at the star and could see spiders at work there too. They appeared to be repairing the loosened wires holding onto the delicate ornament. They seemed to be spinning threads to refasten the star atop the tree.

  "I'm amazed," Jessica said with awe in her voice. "Every time I believe I've seen it all, I'm treated to something new."

  "You can say that again about working at Marvelous Marley World," Kendra added.

  As if to underscore Kendra's words, our harlequin friend did a backflip in the proper, slapstick tradition of the harlequin's medieval theatrical roots. As he did that, a tassel fell from one of the points on his hat. A bot zipped toward it, picked it up, and returned it to him.

  "The AI programming in these bots is excellent."

  "By AI, he means artificial intelligence, although I'm not sure how it relates to what we're watching," Kendra added.

  "They taught themselves to retrieve items for the humans around them rather than simply picking it up and throw it away. That's another reason you'll always find something new at Marvelous Marley World from now on—these guys can learn and share what they learn with the other bots."

  "Isn't that right, Tidbit?" the harlequin asked the bot that had retrieved the tassel. The small bot spun around and then touched the harlequin's outstretched palm, giving him five.

  "Have you named this bot, or is that what you call them all?" I asked.

  "They do have individual differences once you get to know them. This bot is Tidbit. That's Two-two, as in the number two twice, not the frilly ballet skirt." Another seemingly identical bot raised a limb when he heard its name called. "Tup, Tip, Tata, and Tit-tat are all here somewhere."

  "Is it the alliteration you love which has all their names starting with a 'T,'" Jessica asked.

  "How did you guess?" the harlequin asked, appearing to be the one caught a little off guard.

  "My OCD loves it," Jessica replied with a broad smile on her face.

  "That's not the only reason. It's also because these are the bots that 'tidy up.' I use 'Ss' to name the spiders, and 'Bs' for the beasts of burden who haul luggage around," he added. "They all seem to respond best to short names. Isn't that true, Solo?"

  One of the spiderlike creatures instantly responded, sliding to the lobby floor and scurrying to the harlequin. There the bot stopped as if awaiting a command. When the harlequin held out his hand with the tassel in it, the bot hopped onto the man's open palm. It took the tassel, climbed up the harlequin's arm, and reattached the tassel to the hat with surprising speed. As we watched, transfixed, the tree rose a few more inches. Who knows how long the three of us might have remained mesmerized by the display put on by the bots if a Miles-worthy bellow hadn't come from the kitchen?

  "We've got to go," Kendra said. "Thank you, Hardy."

  The harlequin responded by removing his hat, extending his foot in front of him, and bowing low. For a moment, I wondered if all the harlequins at Marvelous Marley World had names that began with an "H." As we hustled to the kitchen, I couldn't for the life of me remember ever running into another harlequin in the theme park or anywhere else at Marvelous Marley World.

  As we walked through the doors leading backstage from the hotel lobby, a security officer emerged from the kitchen covered in what I assumed was Larry's special marinara sauce. That wasn't clear to Kendra, who missed swayed as if she were dizzy. Jessica and I grabbed her.

  "It's not blood," I quickly added.

  "You'd better watch your step. It's not blood, but it's still slippery," the guard warned us.

  I'm going to see if I can find backup from my team. Larry having a tantrum is all we need at a time like this. He's gone too far this time!"

  "At a time like this, you don't need to be running around acting like Mayberry's Barney Fife," Larry bellowed. "Go find the nut job who tried to blow us up and leave me alone."

  "Nut job, huh? If that's not the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is," the security guy who, according to his badge, was named Luke. This alliteration thing was beginning to spook me a little.

  "Luke, you can leave Larry to me. I'm Georgie Shaw from the Food and Beverage Division. I've known Larry for years. Let me speak to him before you spend more of your or call your team members away from the work they're doing. I'll send you an alert if I need help, okay?"

  "I'll be happy to get away from Larry the loser looney! Good luck," Luke said.

  "Hang on a second," I added.

  "Larry, it's Georgie. Toss me towels, please. We'll clean up after you out here, but we're coming in there, and we'd better not slip and fall."

  "Who's we?" Larry hollered.

  "Luke is leaving, then Kendra and I are coming in. I have a friend with me too. Jessica Huntington has questions about the status of the gardens after the blast, okay?"

  "Finally!" Larry responded as towels flew from inside the kitchen. "Someone with sense enough to understand can't just abandon the farm and gardens and expect them to be okay. We haven't even finished checking them all to answer your friend's questions. I don't know who decided we're nonessential personnel, but heads are going to roll when I get hold of Max."

  I handed towels to Luke, who wiped the sauce from his face, hair, and arms. Then he proceeded to dab at his clothes.

  "As soon as you're no longer dripping sauce as you walk, go change," I said, speaking quietly. Luke nodded as I tossed another towel onto the floor to cover dribbles he'd already dropped on the floor.

  The towel had barely touched the hall floor when one of the tidying up bots appeared out of nowhere and took over the cleaning task. That wasn't odd. Entrances and exits throughout the hotel and resort account for the bots' sudden appearances and disappearances. As Luke left, I took a step closer to the kitchen entrance. Then I stopped and turned back toward the bot.

  "Tidbit, is that you?" I asked, not sure what made me think so. The tiny bot raised an appendage holding the towel I'd dropped on the floor. Then it waved the towel at me before dropping it into its bin.

  "Thank you," I said, bowing far less dramatically than Hardy had done. The bot blinked its tiny lights and spun around before spritzing the floor and getting back to work.

  "Well, I'll be. You catch on quick, Georgie," Kendra exclaimed.

  "Let's see if we can make Larry as happy," I whispered, which caused Jessica and Kendra to quash giggles.

  "Larry, can we come in without ending up on our backsides. Put away the cleaver too, or I'm going to turn you over to my husband."

  "Your path is clear, M'lady. Stay on the towels, though, and don't make any fas
t moves," Larry instructed me, laughing at his "fast moves" remark.

  Members of the kitchen crew pulled racks filled with trays of what smelled and looked like garbage away from the door. There were red spatters on the wall and doorway behind us when we entered the kitchen. The bots had their work cut out for them, although two were already tackling the mess.

  Kendra had been correct when she told me the entire crew was still on duty. One of them was quickly dumping the foul-smelling contents of the trays into a slot tagged "composting."

  A young woman I'd never met before opened an oven, and the aroma of fresh-baked pastry filled the kitchen, overwhelming the foul odors. She began removing trays of puff paste baskets the kitchen crew members would fill with a delicious mixture once they were cool. As the shelves in the enormous oven rotated, she checked on cakes and pies. When the next oven shelf turned came into view, she lifted sheet pans full of Christmas cookies from it.

  "Did I hear you say we'd arrived just in time for samples?" Jessica asked. Larry, who hadn't taken his eyes off her since she entered the kitchen.

  "Anything you take a fancy to is yours to sample," Larry replied, opening his arms to take in the spread around him and raising both eyebrows at her. "Help yourself."

  "Put your eyes back in your heard, Larry," I ordered. "Frank Fontana is Jessica Huntington's fiancé. I assume you already know who he is, but if I have to call Jack to get you to stop being a crank, Frank will be with him."

  "Shoot! Nothing's going my way today," Larry sighed. Then the huge, muscle-bound man grinned broadly. "Nice to meet you, Jessica. The offer still stands for you to help yourself to the goodies—the ones coming from the oven, that is."

  "Before we were so rudely interrupted by this morning's shakeup, we were baking and cooking for hundreds of guests and employees. Most of the guests seem to have fled like rats from a sinking ship."

  "That's because we were all ordered to evacuate the hotel before a blast could kill anyone. You know that!" Kendra snapped. "We still don't have a good idea about what's gone on this morning. What if there's a bomb set in this hotel, the tunnels below, or in your lovely gardens? All we need is another dead body."