by Amber Crewes
“Miss Truman?”
“Yes?”
“This is Belinda, the night time receptionist. You have someone waiting for you down here in the lobby. They would like you to come right down.”
She glanced at her watch. It was three in the morning. Who could possibly be waiting for her?” She rose from the bed, hurriedly tying back her hair. She was going to find out.
9
S he anxiously walked downstairs, unsure of what was waiting for her at such a late hour in the night. Was Jack here to surprise her? Had he come to Vegas? She hoped it was him, and she felt her lips turned upward into a smile as she imagined running into his arms.
Instead, she saw that the lobby was empty except for a middle-aged woman. She was sitting alone in a shabby yellow armchair, her face drawn and her arms crossed over her chest.
Meghan approached the woman. “Hi there. I’m Meghan. They called and said you wanted to see me?”
The woman glared at Meghan, her green eyes bright with rage. She tucked her chin-length black bob behind her ears and stood up. “You killed my husband.”
Meghan was taken aback. “What? Excuse me?”
The woman pointed a finger in Meghan’s face. “You heard me! You killed my husband, Jeremiah Wilson.”
“You’re his wife?”
She nodded. “Of twenty-seven years. I’m Louise Wilson, and I’m here to find out why you did what you did.”
Meghan felt her heart beating furiously in her chest. Louise looked angry, and Meghan didn’t want to cross an angry stranger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she stammered. “I didn’t even know your husband.”
Louise smiled creepily. “Of course you did,” she insisted. “You were on stage with him when he died. You fed him the Rhubarb pie! I know in my gut that that’s how you poisoned him. What did he ever do to you? Did he look at you the wrong way? Did he flirt with you? Is that why you decided to kill him?”
Meghan’s jaw dropped. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. She looked over to the reception desk where Belinda was reading a fashion magazine. “Belinda, can you have her removed? I’m going back to bed.”
Louise winked at her. “I paid Belinda good money so that she would turn a blind eye to this visit,” she informed her. “It’s just you and me down here, and you are going to tell me what happened to my husband and why you killed him.”
Louise pulled a dagger out of her purse and held it in front of Meghan’s nose. “Sit down,” she ordered, and Meghan obeyed.
“What do you want?” Meghan asked nervously as she eyed the end of the dagger.
“I want to know why you killed him,” Louise repeated. “What did he ever do to you?”
Meghan shook her head. “I didn’t have anything to do with it,” she insisted. “I was on stage, and then he collapsed.”
“Because of your pie.”
“No,” Meghan corrected. “I ate the pie too! I don’t know where you got that idea, but it’s ridiculous. All of my friends ate it too.”
Louise’s eyes widened. “They did?”
“Yes,” Meghan told her. “They did. My pie couldn’t have killed him since we ALL ate it. Your theory is impossible.”
“I see,” she murmured backing away from Meghan. She collected herself and placed her hands on her hips. “I’m warning you, Meghan,” she began again. “Stay out of my way, or else.”
Louise turned on her heel and stormed out of the hotel. Meghan marched over to the desk. “Thanks a lot, Belinda,” she said sarcastically as Belinda continued to eye her magazine. “You let a stranger off the street harass one of your guests, all because she paid you off? I hope you know that I’m leaving this hotel a terrible review when I leave.”
Belinda said nothing and continued to snap her gum. Meghan stomped out of the lobby and into the night. She was livid, and she needed to take a walk to clear her head. The lights on the strip were bright as she made her way down the block, and she marveled at the replica of the Eiffel Tower, the beautiful ferris wheel, and the magnificent fountains lining both sides of the street. “It sure is different than Sandy Bay,” she thought to herself as she walked down the block.
She looked at her watch. It was nearly five in the morning, and she knew Jack would be awake for work. She pulled out her phone and gave him a call. “Babe?”
“Hi, honey,” he answered sweetly. “How is my lovely fiancé? You’re up early!”
She told him what had happened with Louise, and he laughed. “You sure are getting into a lot of trouble out there,” he remarked.
She was flabbergasted. “Did you not hear me?” she asked. “A stranger came into the hotel lobby and threatened me with a dagger, Jack! Aren’t you worried about me?”
“I know you can always hold your own, babe,” he assured her. “I don’t worry about you. You’re tough as nails.”
Meghan was annoyed. She wanted Jack to share in her rage and fear, and he was dismissing her negative experiences in Las Vegas as though they were minor.
“How was your night?” he asked.
“Besides being cornered by a stranger in the lobby, it was good,” she informed him. “We had a great sushi dinner and went out.”
“See?” he cried. “You had a good time! Just keep up the fun and everything will be okay. You’ll be home soon, and we’ll be laughing about this before you know it.”
She felt her stomach churn, and she felt tears brim in her eyes. She would not be home soon, at least not until the police gave her permission to leave, and all she wanted to do was return to her normal life with her job, her dogs, and Jack.
“Just hang in there, babe,” he told her. “Things will work out. They always do!”
She said goodbye to her fiancé, feeling annoyed. The sun was beginning to rise, and she decided to return to the hotel.
She walked with her head hung, staring at her feet as she trudged along The Strip. She had a dull ache in her head from exhaustion, and her eyes were swollen from crying. Meghan had never felt so miserable, and as she walked, she cursed herself for agreeing to come on a surprise trip thrown by Jackie. She should have known things would get out of control.
As she passed the large lighted fountains outside of Caesar’s Palace, a famous hotel and casino, she noticed two animals running toward her. “Are there wild animals in Las Vegas?” she worried to herself as they approached.
She sighed in relief when she realized the two animals were friendly dogs, both wagging their tails and licking Meghan’s hands.
“Hi, babies,” she murmured as she knelt down to stroke their faces. The two dogs looked to be a mixed breed, but their fur was the same texture as Fiesta and Siesta, Meghan’s beloved twin dogs. “What are you doing out here?”
She reached for their necks and read their collars. “There’s no phone number here,” she muttered. “But your names are on your collars. Sunny and Rainy. What adorable names!”
Sunny sniffed Meghan’s legs and licked her on the cheek. Rainy tried to crawl into her lap. She laughed, happy to have found some friendly residents of Las Vegas at last. The trip had been difficult, but at the moment, finding friendly dogs made it all feel better.
“Sunny, Rainy, you are too cute,” she laughed as Rainy wagged her tail back and forth. “Your collars don’t have any contact information on them, and I don’t want to take you to the shelter. I think you might have to come back to the hotel with me.”
She wondered if they would follow her, and she stood from the ground. “Come on, girls!”
The dogs did not move. “Come on,” she repeated. “I can’t leave you out here on the streets.”
“SUNNY! RAINY!”
Meghan turned to find a bald man sprinting toward them. “Oh, my sweet girls!” he exclaimed as he dashed to the dogs. “Thank goodness you are alright.”
The two dogs jumped up and down, excited to see their master. “I found them wandering around,” Meghan explained. “I checked their collars, but they didn’t have any co
ntact information.”
He shook his head. “My wife and I have been meaning to update their collars for months,” he told her. “But we never got around to it. Clearly, we need to! I was taking them out for a walk before I went to my office, but when I bent over to tie my shoes, they got away from me. I’m glad they were safe with you.”
She smiled at him. “I love dogs,” she said. “I have two sweet little dogs at home. I’ve been missing them a lot, so running into your fur babies has been a treat.”
Sunny turned to Meghan and licked her on the knee. “They’ve really taken to you,” the man laughed. “You really have a way with dogs. What kind do you have?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I kind of inherited them from a friend. They’re precious, though, and I’m glad they are mine.”
The man nodded. “What brings you into town? Are you visiting the city?”
“Bachelorette party,” she explained, the smile on her face disappearing.
“Yikes,” he replied. “Not going well? Is the bride being difficult?”
“It’s the opposite,” she grumbled. “I am the bride. My friends are being difficult.”
“Wow! A bride-to-be. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Meghan responded, trying her best to be polite. “I’m excited to get married, but not so excited to be here.”
He nodded. “I get that. Las Vegas is not for the faint of heart. Where are you from?”
“The Pacific Northwest,” she answered. “A small town. It’s quaint and quirky, but I love it. The sea air is unbeatable, and the people are genuine.”
“That sounds incredible!”
“It is,” she replied. “And you? Are you a Vegas native?”
“My wife and I are both from the East Coast and are really aching to get out of here. We’re both doctors, so we’re working on getting a transfer to a hospital in Florida… hopefully somewhere near the sea.”
“That sounds amazing,” she remarked. “Florida sounds much better than Vegas.”
“It is,” he agreed. “My wife actually did her bachelorette weekend on Anna Maria Island, a small island off Florida’s west coast. She had a low-key weekend with yoga, massages, and dolphin watching.”
“That sounds perfect,” Meghan sighed. “Maybe I’ll have to have another bachelorette party someday… maybe after I’ve been married a while.”
“I’m sure that would be nice,” he told her. “The dogs and I need to get going, but it was nice to meet you!”
“You as well,” she said as she waved goodbye. “If you and your wife ever find yourselves in Sandy Bay, you should stop by my bakery. It’s called Truly Sweet. I own it and run it, and I could get you some yummy treats.”
He grinned. “That would be truly sweet! See you later. Take care!”
Her spirits lifted; it was amazing how the kindness of a stranger could improve her mood, and Meghan smiled as she continued her walk back to the hotel. “Maybe this city isn’t that bad after all,” she thought as she rounded the corner and saw the hotel in the distance.
When she arrived, she noticed a commotion around the entrance, and her heart sank.
“What is going on?” she wondered as she approached the front door. “What could possibly be going wrong now?”
10
M eghan peered ahead to see what was going on, and she felt a lump in her throat as she observed a large news crew stationed in front of the hotel.
A petite blonde anchor was talking to the camera, and Meghan could hear her loud voice projecting over the crowd. “WE now know WHO killed Elvis and just how he died! Stay tuned to find out MORE!”
Meghan put a hand over her face, hoping she could escape the attention of the news crew, but the reporter spotted her and waved her over. “Hey! Are you staying in this hotel?”
The cameraman looked into Meghan’s eyes. “Aren’t you the girl who was on stage with him?”
“That’s her!” the anchor shrieked. “That’s Meghan Truman. She was there when he died!”
The crowd rushed over to her, and Meghan could hardly breathe. “Miss Truman, how well did you know Elvis?”
Meghan awkwardly shifted as someone shoved a microphone in front of her. “Not well,” she said. “He was here at the hotel once…”
“He was here with you? At the hotel? You had him over to your hotel room? Were you having an affair with him at the hotel?” the anchor pressed.
“No!” Meghan cried. “Of course not!”
The anchor raised an eyebrow. “You were having an affair with him somewhere other than the hotel? Is that what you are trying to say?”
“No!” she insisted. “I barely knew him.”
“So, you were having an affair with a man you barely knew?”
She couldn’t take it any longer. Meghan pushed past the crowd and barreled into the hotel to find her friends and sister sitting in the lobby. “What is going on?” she wailed. “Why is the press here?”
“How are you? And where were you?” Myrtle asked as she raced to her sister’s side. “We were worried about you, Meghan!”
“You can’t just take off in the middle of the night in Las Vegas,” Karen chastised her. “Anything could have happened to you.”
Jackie placed her hands on her hips. She was dressed in an obnoxiously bright orange t-shirt. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “We were worried about you!”
Meghan raised an eyebrow as she studied Jackie’s shirt. Her jaw dropped as she realized the image on the front was her face.
“What are you wearing?” she shrieked as she read the words clumsily printed above her picture on the shirt. The shirt read “I Know What Elvis’ Killer Did Last Night”.
“Jackie! What are you wearing? Where did you get that shirt?”
“I had it made,” Jackie informed her. “I ran down to a printer earlier and had it done. What do you think?”
Meghan placed her hands on her face in exasperation. “It’s terrible!” she yelled. “What were you thinking? You can’t walk around like that?”
“Meghan, it’s a great idea,” she insisted. “My cousin brought it up to me while we were waiting in the jail cell. She thought it would be a good idea and an easy way to make money.”
Meghan narrowed her eyes at Jackie. “You think wearing a shirt that slanders my name and reputation is a good idea?”
Jackie laughed. “I don’t just want to wear it,” she explained. “I want to sell these shirts! We could make so much money off of these babies right now while the story is hot. Talk about an easy way to make some money. We won’t even have to gamble!”
Myrtle placed her hands on her hips. “You need to march upstairs and take off that shirt now,” she growled at Jackie.
“Or what?”
“Or you are going to be sleeping outside tonight,” Karen finished. “I don’t care if you want to make a quick buck, but you aren’t going to ruin Meghan’s reputation while you do it.”
Jackie scowled. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Oh yes, I can,” Meghan said. “It’s my party. I am the bachelorette. You’ve done enough damage, Jackie, and you aren’t going to add this to your list of disasters.”
“Just do what she says,” Trudy ordered as everyone glared at Jackie. “Go on.”
Jackie turned on her heels and stomped away from the group.
“That girl,” Karen muttered.
“She is something else,” Trudy confirmed.
Myrtle stared at Meghan. “Now that we’ve finished that conversation,” she said. “Talk to us, Meghan. Where did you go? Where have you been?”
Meghan shrugged. “I needed to clear my head,” she explained. “I needed some air. I just didn’t expect to come back and find a news team at the hotel. What is going on?”
“You know what’s going on,” a shaky voice insisted. Meghan saw Mrs. Sheridan emerge from a corner. “You know what happened.”
The group gasped. Mrs. Sheridan hadn’t joined them for their
night out, and they hadn’t really seen her in almost a full day. She looked terrible; her face was gaunt, her hair was messy, and her eyes were red. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Sheridan?” Karen asked. “Are you okay?”
Mrs. Sheridan pointed to Meghan. “She killed the King,” she said in a sinister voice.
“What?” Meghan screeched. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I am talking about!” Mrs. Sheridan insisted. “You killed the King! You killed him, and we all saw you do it.”
Myrtle got in front of Meghan and stared into Mrs. Sheridan’s face. “Take that back,” she ordered. “Take back the nasty things you’re saying about my sister.”
Mrs. Sheridan shook her head. “No,” she told Myrtle. “I can’t. Everything I said is true, and I won’t rest until justice is served. She killed Elvis, and we all know it!”
Meghan glared at Mrs. Sheridan. “I can’t believe you would say something like that to me,” she told her. “I thought you were my friend.”
Mrs. Sheridan spat on the ground beside Meghan. “I’m not friends with killers,” she glowered. “You killed the King, and I am going to get my revenge on you if it’s the last thing I do!”
11
M rs. Sheridan stormed away, and Meghan buried her face in her hands. “What was that all about?” Myrtle asked as Meghan cried.
“I have no idea!” she told her sister as Myrtle patted her back. “Mrs. Sheridan has lost her mind. You know I had nothing to do with that guy dying, right?”
“Of course, we know that,” Karen assured her. “Mrs. Sheridan is off her rocker. Don’t listen to a word she says.”
“I just don’t get why she believes I had something to do with Jeremiah dropping dead,” Meghan lamented. “He seems like the typical Vegas type… you know, the kind of guy who drinks and smokes and parties all night long. Of course, he dropped dead on stage... he was probably long overdue to drop dead!”
Myrtle hushed her sister. “You might want to keep those comments to yourself,” she hissed as she stroked Meghan’s hair. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep? You’ve been up most of the night, and I think some shut-eye could help you.”
