Inn Trouble

by Dixie Davis

  Nobody sprang to mind, nobody whose email address she had, anyway. Lori opened another window in the web browser to pull up her personal email. She had plenty of innkeeper contacts, but they were all on her computer, not Howard’s. He might have some of the same contacts, though.

  But the browser window Lori had opened on the computer didn’t load. Oh — she was disconnected from the internet? She clenched her free fist. What was she thinking, trying to use computers to defeat a killer? She couldn’t even hook up her own computer to the internet without a service call to the cable company.

  Lori set the computer down to pace some more. This was taking too long. The longer she sat here, the longer Tom would have to get away. If he just ran, how long would it be before someone found her? She hadn’t seen any workers in the dark hallway before they’d come in. They were all busy setting up the ballroom for the awards.

  She could bang on the door for hours, but it was entirely possible that no one would hear.

  Lori scanned her memory to see if she knew the exact time of the awards ceremony. Was it in the evening? Lunch? She didn’t know. How long did she have?

  The boring gray walls of the room seemed to be slowly closing in on her, as if she wasn’t trapped enough already.

  In her pocket, her phone beeped with a text message. Her phone! Of course — why couldn’t she think of it first in a real emergency? She set down the computer and pulled out her phone, rolling her eyes at herself.

  She dismissed the new text — something about the police talking to the witness, from Andrea — and stared at her phone. She still faced the same conundrum: who could she call to help her before Tom could get away? Even the police would take too long.

  She had Clint’s number. Hopefully he hadn’t gone far. She pulled up the last number that had called her and hit the button to call him back again.

  “Lori?” Clint answered. He sounded out of breath.

  “Clint — where are you?”

  “I’m at the convention center, trying to follow Tom. Did you get away?”

  He was still here. Lori could barely contain the burst of hope in her heart. “No, he trapped me in a little classroom outside the ballroom. Jammed the door with a chair.”

  “He what? Hang on, I’m coming.”

  If Clint was after Tom now, that had to be what he was doing all along. He wasn’t angry at Lori. He wasn’t chasing her. He was trying to stop Tom.

  Could that have been what he was talking with Howard about Thursday before they left?

  “Clint,” Lori said, “I think Howard found out Tom was scamming him and other innkeepers, and I’m afraid that’s why he’s dead. Do you know anything about this?”

  Clint sighed heavily into the phone. “Yes. I found it on Howard’s site. I thought he’d jacked up his prices, and I was practically giddy because I thought — excuse me —” It sounded like Clint was navigating convention traffic. Coming for her, she hoped. “ — I thought I’d be able to undercut him and steal all his business. Then I checked my own rates when I wasn’t logged in and saw that they were wrong, too.”

  “And you told Howard?”

  “Yep.”

  But Howard left Bed and Bookingz a while ago, didn’t he? “When was this?”

  “Earlier this year. Then we both quit the site. Tom tried to hold the cancelation fee over us, but we threatened to go public. He said he’d waive the fee if we were quiet.” He sighed again. “I can’t believe I agreed to that. A discount price tag on integrity.”

  Lori frowned, rocking back on her heels. “You didn’t know how big the problem is.” Even now, Lori only knew of three innkeepers who’d definitely had this problem with Bed and Bookingz.

  “Howard started looking into it. I argued that we’d taken our money and given our word to be quiet. He insisted that we had to do something about it. When we saw Tom here, I knew he was right.”

  But they’d argued that first day — but then Clint had contacted Howard, and Howard had gone back in the convention center. Lori spun around as if she could share her conclusion with a waiting audience in the empty classroom. Instead, she had only Clint to talk to. “So you emailed him after our ‘altercation’ on the way out?”

  “Yeah. He came back and we agreed Howard would call to set up a meeting with Tom in the morning to tell him he needed to stop and come clean, or we would do it for him.”

  The business card. “Seven o’clock at the Riverboat Motel?”

  “Yeah. I figured it’d be a neutral ground, and Howard said he’d contact Tom. I never thought —”

  “Did you go to the meeting?”

  Once again, Clint sighed. “I was late. I got there just in time to see Howard fall, and I turned around and ran away. I didn’t want to be next.”

  She couldn’t really blame him for trying to save his own life, but his actions had let Tom go free until now. “Why didn’t you tell the police or someone? Why hide out and run away?”

  “I just watched him kill a man, and then he came back and killed the guy’s wife, just to keep it quiet. To cover his tracks. If he knew I knew about the meeting and how widespread the fraud was — I was next on the hit list.”

  And where did Lori fall on the list?

  The door handle rattled, and Lori blew out a breath of relief. Clint was here, and they’d go to the police and have them arrest Tom. It was almost over.

  “Wait,” Clint said, “which side of the ballroom are you on?”

  Lori looked to the door again. That wasn’t him?

  The door handle turned and the door swung open.

  Tom stood in the doorway.

  Lori froze, fear howling through her thoughts. Tom crossed the room to her and snatched the phone out of her hand. “Calling for help?” He hit the button to end the call, then tossed the phone across the room.

  Lori’s lungs filled with sand. This wasn’t a rescue at all.

  Clint couldn’t find her. She was on her own. Facing down a murderer. She backed away a few steps. Tom still stood between her and the door.

  “I know what you did,” Lori said. “I know you killed Howard and Vera.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Why would you trap me in this room?” she countered. “You did it because it was the only solution you could think of in that minute. Because you’re not very good at coming up with solutions.”

  Tom scowled at her, taking two steps toward her. “I made a problem go away. Now only one of us has a problem to worry about.”

  Lori backed away, matching her pace to his. “Oh? You’re not worried about me telling someone what I know? About Howard and Vera — about Clint? About Arnie with the Cozy Cottage?”

  Tom’s expression darkened. “You don’t have any evidence. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know that you’ve been overcharging for rooms booked through your site. I’m guessing you’re probably keeping that money, skimming off the top of most of the bed and breakfasts that book with you. You tell them to stay logged in, and they never see the rates you charge. You’ve got the payment processing handled, and they only see what you want them to see.” Lori raised an eyebrow. “Sound about right?”

  Tom snorted, rolling up his sleeve like he was ready to get down to the violent business of finishing this. “Sounds like you’ve been talking to a conspiracy theorist.”

  “Or a witness to what happened at the Riverboat Motel when you met with Howard.”

  He shook his head, still advancing on her. “I don’t know any Riverboat Motel.”

  Lori backed up two more steps, but didn’t back down. “Sure you do. Dusky Cove. Howard set up a meeting between the two of you there for Friday morning. And only one of you left the meeting alive. But someone else was supposed to be meeting with you. And he was running late.”

  He started rolling up the other sleeve, revealing a beige square patch on his skin. A nicotine patch? “You can’t prove anything. You’re just pulling this theory out of thin air. If there
were any credibility to it, they would have already arrested me.”

  She backpedaled further. Part of Lori shouted that he was right. She’d followed harebrained theories too far in this case and that was how she’d gotten into this mess, stuck in this room, confronting a murderer.

  But the louder part of her brain screamed that Tom was a killer. She should have seen the truth all along. Why did she ever listen to Tom?

  Or was listening to Clint the mistake here?

  No. She’d made enough mistakes. She’d talked with Clint enough to tell.

  And that nicotine patch — Tom was a smoker trying to quit. Hadn’t he been smacking away on gum every time she’d stopped by his booth?

  “There was a witness,” Lori tried again, her voice stronger. “Another person was supposed to be in your meeting.”

  Tom shot her a skeptical look. “Inventing a story out of thin air. Again.”

  “Really? Because he saw what happened. How you pushed Howard.” Clint hadn’t said that, not in those words, but Lori could infer it. It was the only theory they had about the exact way Howard had died, the only thing that made sense.

  Tom just shook his head. “There’s no record of any meeting, no way you could prove any of this. Because it didn’t happen.”

  Her mind raced almost as fast as her pulse. There had to be a way to prove this. Clint had said Howard was going to set up the meeting with Tom. Tom might not know Clint was coming to the meeting at all. No wonder he believed there was no witness.

  He must have thought the whole thing would just go away if he killed Howard. Nobody else would know they were meeting — if he took Howard’s phone that held the record of his call.

  The phone that Lori couldn’t find. That the police hadn’t recovered from the scene.

  The police would find that in Tom’s possession. Maybe the business card holder, too.

  “There might not be a record of the meeting, but the police will find Howard’s phone — I’m guessing in your things. Maybe even at your booth.”

  “Do I look that stupid? Don’t you think I’d get rid of something like that?”

  Lori fought through a surge of anxiety. Of course. He must have thrown it away, maybe in the river.

  What good did it do her to make him confess? He was going to make sure she didn’t tell anything that she knew, probably the same way he had done to Howard.

  “Help is coming.” Lori wished she’d called the police instead of just someone convenient. “And there’s still a witness who heard you arguing with Howard.”

  Tom laughed. “You’re not very good at bluffing.”

  “That’s funny, because I’m not.”

  “Whatever. I’m tired of this game.” Tom stalked toward her, and Lori backed away again.

  He’d killed once — twice, hadn’t he? “Before you do anything rash,” Lori said, holding up her hands, “it’s not too late to walk away from this. You can still make a better choice.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, that didn’t work for Vera, either.”

  “What?”

  Tom seemed to startle a little, realizing he’d let his own bluff slip.

  “Vera tried to reason with you, then? Before you drowned her?”

  His jaw clenched. “I’m not admitting anything.”

  “Oh? Even though you’re just going to kill me?”

  “Can’t give you the satisfaction.” Tom took another step toward her.

  Lori was running out of room behind her, so she angled to the left to give her more room to back up. To escape.

  But there was no escape here.

  “How is this going to look?” Lori asked, backing up a little more to the left again. “I’ve talked to two different people today about your scams and then I show up dead? They’ll find the evidence of Howard’s emails to other innkeepers. They’ll figure this out.”

  “Not if I destroy the evidence. Your body will be here until the next conference that uses this room. Your computer will be long gone by then.”

  Terror at that threat screamed in her mind, but Lori focused on her breathing and edging away from Tom. She glanced at the blank, gray walls again as if they could offer any help.

  But then she saw it. As she’d moved to the left, she’d gotten closer to the door. Tom no longer stood between her and freedom.

  Tom seemed to realize it, too. He lunged toward her.

  Putting everything she had into her legs, Lori ran for the door. She had just enough leeway to get past him, but he could still catch up to her.

  Lori reached the door, jammed the handle down, and burst into the hall.

  Tom was behind her.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears. The dark hall offered no help. If he caught her now, Tom could kill her without anyone finding out. Even Clint hadn’t been able to find her with instructions.

  Lori kept running, scanning the hall for somewhere to hide. Definitely not the next classroom over. No more dead ends. She hoped.

  On the other side of the hall, another door beckoned. Barely daring to glance back — Tom was not far behind — Lori barged through the door.

  Into another dark room. Was this a mistake?

  No turning back now, not with Tom still chasing her. Lori steeled herself against the panic pushing into her thoughts and pushed forward past a black curtain in front of her. A bright light shone ahead. Were those voices she heard? Lori ran toward them, up some steps.

  “Help!” she called. “Security! He’s going to kill me!”

  Finally she spotted someone ahead of her — a man in a suit. She ran toward him. “Help!” she called again. She glanced back. Tom was still pursuing her.

  Lori grabbed the man in a suit by the arms. “Help me!”

  The man in the suit swung her around, putting himself between her and Tom. Lori peered around him. Tom stopped short at the man confronting him. “Mr. Peralta,” he gasped.

  Mr. Peralta — the head of InnCon? Lori glanced up at the man protecting her. Tall but stocky, his dark hair and mustache were unmistakable now that she wasn’t driven by one hundred percent pure fear.

  “He’s trying to kill me!” Lori shouted again.

  Tom lurched for her, but Mr. Peralta stepped forward and leveled a hard right hook at Tom’s head.

  Tom dropped like a sack of flour.

  A woman screamed. Lori had to double-check to make sure it wasn’t her.

  Then she turned around. Beyond the bright lights, she could just make out . . . the ballroom.

  She was on stage. In the awards ceremony.

  She’d never dreamed of getting an award at InnCon, but this was worse than a nightmare. Being chased on stage, interrupting the ceremony, having Mr. Peralta deck a man to save her in front of the entire Innkeepers Convention of the Carolinas?

  Lori wished she could slink back through the door she’d come from now.

  “Are you all right?” Mr. Peralta asked her.

  Lori nodded.

  Clint bounded up on stage, a security guard in tow. “That’s him!”

  The security guard — no, wait, that was a real police officer — hauled Tom to his feet. “You’re under arrest for fraud.”

  “And murder,” Lori added, still shouting. “Twice!”

  “And attempted murder,” Mr. Peralta added. “And probably half a dozen other charges we can come up with.”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Tom insisted.

  The police officer cuffed and frisked him anyway, producing a pack of cigarettes and a silver rectangle case from his pocket.

  A business card case. “If that has a house with palmettos on it, it belonged to Howard,” Lori said. “His first victim.”

  Tom opened his mouth to defend himself, but Mr. Peralta took a menacing step forward again. Tom looked away and the cop showed the case to Lori.

  Sure enough, the Brookes House logo was etched on the front. “That’s his.”

  The officer shot Lori, Clint and Mr. Peralta meaningful looks. “Don’t go anywhere.” Once the
y’d each nodded, the officer marched Tom off the stage as quickly as he could.

  That marked twice the Wilmington Police Department had caught a killer for Lori, saving her.

  That was not a trend she wanted to continue.

  As soon as Tom was off the stage, the audience broke out into applause. Mr. Peralta turned to Lori and Clint. “Do the two of you want to explain what just happened here?”

  “Now?” Lori asked.

  “No better time than the present.” Mr. Peralta folded his arms.

  Clint stepped up to the microphone. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I just want to apologize for — for a lot of things. I’m sorry we canceled the prospective innkeeper track this year. I was running scared because I was the only person left who knew about the fraud that drove Tom to murder —” Clint choked up for a moment. “ — murder a very good man, and his wife, neither of whom deserved to die. Howard and Vera Bugh were the best hosts and innkeepers and educators I’ve ever known. They were brave in taking a stand against Bed and Bookingz’s fraud, and if they were here today, they’d be the ones telling you about it. Not me.”

  Lori stared at him. This was not the right place to go around saying all those things, nice though many of them were. The audience seemed to appreciate it, though, based on the applause.

  Mr. Peralta subtly nudged Clint aside. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” he said. “I don’t know if we could have a more fitting tribute for this year’s Lifetime Achievement Award, Howard and Vera Bugh. I only wish we weren’t awarding it posthumously.” While the audience clapped again, Mr. Peralta picked up the box on the table in the middle of the stage and held it out to Clint.

  Clint moved forward, but stopped. He looked to Lori, then gestured for her to step up.

  Lori pointed at herself. “Me?” She was in jeans and a T-shirt. She shouldn’t be on stage at an awards ceremony.

  But then, it was a little late for that. Lori took a deep breath and stepped up to accept the award.

  “Could you also say a few words?” Mr. Peralta asked her.

  “Oh, uh . . . sure.” Lori stepped back to the microphone. “Hello, I’m obviously not Vera.”

  The audience laughed a little.