Late Arrival: A Park Hotel Mystery (The Park Hotel Mysteries Book 4)

by Diane Capri

  “I’d say in his forties. Your height and build, brown hair, blue eyes, wearing a black tuxedo.”

  Sheriff Jackson got back on the radio and relayed the pertinent information to Deputy Marshall.

  “Do you want me to pursue?” the deputy asked.

  The sheriff wiped his mouth. “No. Continue with emergency procedures.”

  “Copy that.”

  He clipped his radio back onto his belt. “Looks like it’s just you and me. I can’t ask anybody to come over from the mainland in this weather.”

  I gave him a small smile and grabbed his hand. We left my suite together.

  As we walked toward the lobby, there was another series of lightning flashes and a deafening crack of thunder that shook the glass on the windows. I jumped. Several people in the lobby yelped. Then we were plunged into darkness as all the lights went out. That caused a few more yelps, and I heard some screams coming from the ballroom.

  The sheriff took out his flashlight and turned it on. “Do you know where your emergency kits are?”

  I nodded and pointed toward the corridor to the back offices. I ran up to the front desk. Lane was working it, using the light on his cell phone to find his way.

  “I need the key to the maintenance office,” I said.

  Lane handed me a ring of keys from the desk. “What should we do?”

  “Make sure we get people out of their rooms and in one central location. Bring everyone down to the ballroom. Almost everyone is down there anyway, and there’s food and drink. Lois and Eric will be there.”

  While we rushed forward, the front-desk staff jumped into action as scared, bewildered guests started wandering into the lobby. The spa and other stores were already closed up for the night.

  I directed the sheriff to the maintenance office. I opened the door, and we gathered all the lamps and flashlights we could find. We headed toward the ballroom. As we passed the front desk again, I left a lamp with them.

  When we arrived at the ballroom, I was surprised to find it less chaotic than I’d assumed it would be. It looked like Lois and Eric and other staff had taken control of the situation. I found Lois and handed her a lamp.

  “Thank you.” She lit it up, and then looked around, past me. “Where’s Ginny? Isn’t she with you?”

  I glanced at the sheriff. I wasn’t sure what to tell her.

  “We’re looking for her,” he said.

  She frowned at me. “Andi. What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  I told her everything…from Jeremy’s money laundering, the SIM card he hid in my picture frame, the related break-in, Victor Minsky’s involvement, and finished up with the fact that Ginny went willing with him somewhere.

  She grabbed my hand. “Do you think he’ll hurt her?”

  I wanted to say no, but, honestly, I didn’t know. Ivan had killed Jeremy, but Jeremy had been a direct threat to Minsky and probably had stolen Minsky’s money.

  “I don’t know,” I said, on the verge of tears again.

  “We won’t let that happen,” the sheriff promised. “We’ll find her. It’s a small island. There are only so many places they could be.”

  I was about to say something else to soothe her fears when a huge crash came from the lobby. It sounded like glass breaking. The sheriff, Lois, and I went running toward the sound. Two big trees had fallen through the windows on one side of the lobby. Glass littered the floor, fallen leaves blew around the room, and one of the sofas that had been near the window lay on its side, cushions wet and spotted with debris.

  Everyone in the lobby jumped into action. Gloves and brooms and large trash bins were passed around. I started to sweep some of the smaller glass fragments from the lobby floor when Lois joined me, taking the broom from me.

  “I’ve got this. Go find Ginny. Find my girl.”

  I hugged her and then looked for the sheriff. I found him helping to move the other sofas away from the windows, his boots crunching on shards of glass. Once he was finished, he rushed over to me and took my hand without a word, and we left the hotel and went out into the storm.

  The wind and rain whipped my body as we ran to the sheriff’s jeep. I was drenched instantaneously. He started the vehicle and turned the heater on full blast.

  “We’ll stop at the station. We need better gear for this weather.”

  He drove out of the parking lot and onto the main road that led down the hill to the village. He drove slowly while the wind pummeled the side of the jeep, rocking us back and forth. Trees lining the road bent against the gale, and I clenched the dashboard, anticipating that one of those trees might be ripped out of the ground and smash into us.

  As we drove down Main Street, I could see the damage the storm inflicted on the village. Bicycles lay on their sides on the sidewalk. Garbage from the trash bins blew around the street, making tiny tornadoes with leaves and other debris. When we passed slowly by the wharf, I saw waves lashing at the wooden pier, engulfing the boards with every surge. Water ran along the streets. If the waves got any higher, Main Street and surrounding businesses would certainly flood.

  Before we turned toward the station, Sheriff Jackson stopped in front of the Swan Song bar. He slid the jeep’s transmission into park. “Stay here. I’m going to check on Marshall and the others.”

  He opened the door, and the wind whipped it out of his hand. He jumped out and then pushed the door closed. As he went toward the ferry dock, the wind nearly knocked him on his butt. Bracing against it, he marched on.

  The jeep rocked back and forth as I waited, reminding me a bit of a boat on waves. I put my hands in front of the heater vents. I’d yet to get warm. I’d never seen a storm like this before. Not firsthand, anyway. Only in videos of hurricanes that had battered the east and south coasts.

  Another bright flash of lightning filled the sky, exploding over the water. The show would have been pretty if it wasn’t so frightening. More rumbles of thunder followed, making me jump again. Yet another lightning flash illuminated the street, and that was when I spotted a man trying to board up the windows of his shop. He was having trouble. He couldn’t hold up the wood and pound nails at the same time.

  I jumped out of the jeep and ran across the street to help. I grabbed one of the boards and held it up across the window. The proprietor, an older man, thanked me as he pounded nails into the wood. The roar of the water pulverizing the shore drowned out all of his pounding. I grabbed another board and put it up. It slipped a little on my left, but another man came to help.

  As the board was secured, I glanced briefly at the man in the rain jacket who had rushed to help. When he turned to look at me, I recognized his face under the dark hood.

  “Don’t say anything,” Ivan warned.

  “Where’s Ginny?”

  “She’s safe. For now.”

  “If you hurt her, I swear to God, I will kill you.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and spotted the sheriff working with Marshall and the others to sandbag the shore.

  Ivan saw me looking. “Don’t bother calling out to him. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, anyway.”

  “What do you want?”

  He slipped something into my jacket pocket. “We’ll call you with a time and place.”

  “For what?”

  “A trade. The card for Ginny.”

  “How do I know she’s not already dead?”

  “She’ll be the one calling you.”

  I wanted to reach over and strangle him or punch him or anything to make him hurt, make him bleed. I gritted my teeth. “You are going to regret this. I promise.”

  He smiled again. “You are everything she said you’d be.”

  I frowned, wondering who he meant. Ginny? Had Ginny told them I’d fight tooth and nail for her?

  “Wait for the call. And when it’s time, you come alone. If we even get a whiff of sheriff lover boy around, Ginny will be the next one tossed over the bluff.” Then he turned a
nd disappeared down the road into the wind and rain and darkness.

  Chapter 21

  The sheriff rushed up to my side as I helped put up the last board over the shop window.

  “What are you doing out here?” he shouted over the gale-force wind.

  “I had to help.”

  He looked at the shop owner. “You okay, Nick?”

  Nick nodded and then hustled off to get into his own vehicle parked in front.

  “You’re soaked through.” He put his arm around me, and we ran back to the jeep. Once inside, he pulled away from the curb, and we turned toward the station. He parked in front of the red-brick building, and together we ran inside. Thankfully, the lights were still on.

  Deputy Shawn was manning the station. He whistled when we came in, sopping wet, making puddles on the tiled floor as we both removed our jackets. I was careful to keep the burner phone Ivan had given me hidden in the pocket. The last thing I needed was for it to fall out onto the floor in front of the sheriff.

  “You two look like drowned rats. Especially you, Andi.”

  I really didn’t have the patience to put up with this crap. “Hey, Shawn?” I flipped him a rude gesture.

  He laughed. “Wow, kitty has claws.”

  The sheriff glared at him. “Get on some gear and go out and help Marshall at the docks. There are still lots of sandbags to be filled and stacked up. Then make the rounds in the village. Be sure everyone is securely hunkered down for the night.”

  Shawn was smart to shut his mouth and not make any more comments. Sheriff Jackson’s body language told me he’d probably knock him down if he even made a peep. I figured Shawn could sense that, too, because he went in the back and came out with rain gear and rubber boots.

  Once he was dressed and out the door, the sheriff gestured to me. “C’mon around back. You can get out of those wet clothes and into something warm and dry.”

  I followed him to one of the back rooms, which looked like a storage area. This was where the station kept all the extra uniforms, heavy snow jackets, and other equipment like generators, backpacks, and what appeared to be riot gear with shields and battering rams. I even spotted a couple of tasers. I wanted to ask if he’d ever had to use that stuff but decided it probably wasn’t the best time.

  The sheriff grabbed a gray sweatshirt and pants from one of the shelves and set them on a bench. “They might be a little big, but they’ll do the trick.”

  He grabbed some for himself, and without further conversation, he started to unbutton his shirt.

  I turned around and tried to pull off my sweatshirt, but it got stuck halfway up my arms. I struggled a bit, realizing I probably looked like a fool fighting with my clothes.

  I heard the sheriff chuckle softly. “Do you need some help?”

  I sighed. “Yes, please.”

  I could feel him move in behind me. I was extremely aware of the heat of his body near the cold skin of my back.

  “Lift your arms straight up,” he said.

  I did as he instructed, and he pulled on the sopping fabric of my sweatshirt until he was able to peel it over the tips of my fingers. He laid it down on the bench and handed me the dry gray sweatshirt. I pulled it over my head, feeling instant warmth on my skin from the soft fuzzy inside of the shirt.

  I looked down at my drenched leggings and realized these wouldn’t be easy to pull off, either. So, I moved over to the bench and started rolling the waistband down. The sheriff had quickly turned to face away from me. I continued to roll the fabric until it came over my hips and butt, and then I sat down and peeled the rest down my legs.

  As I pulled the sweatpants on, I glanced over and got a quick peek of the sheriff in his boxers before he pulled his pair of sweatpants up. He glanced over his shoulder at me, and I quickly looked away, embarrassed I’d been caught checking him out. If his roguish grin was any indicator, he didn’t mind one bit.

  “Better?”

  I nodded and ran my hands over my arms. “Much.”

  “Good. I’ll make us some coffee. It ain’t Starbucks quality, but it should do the trick.”

  I followed him into the kitchen. It was fully stocked and, by the looks of it, would probably last a week or more. While he got busy making the coffee, I lowered myself into one of the chairs at the table. What I really felt like doing was curling up into a ball on the floor. I was tired. My body still shook, not only from the cold but from the shock of what we’d just been through. And I was worried about Ginny.

  I believed Ivan’s promise about Ginny being unharmed. He didn’t seem like a man who would hurt a woman unnecessarily. Unnecessarily being the key word. I believed he would hurt her if he felt he needed to. That I didn’t doubt. Victor Minsky, on the other hand, I didn’t know anything about. He was definitely a cold fish, a predator. Would he hurt Ginny? Probably. Given the chance.

  The sheriff returned to the table with two steaming cups of coffee, sugar, and fake creamer.

  “If you want something fancy, I think there’s some toasted-marshmallow mocha creamer in the fridge.”

  I eyed him with a little smile. “Who drinks that? You?”

  He sipped the coffee. “Maybe. I’ll never tell.”

  I took a drink. It burned my tongue a little, but the warmth soon spread down my throat and warmed my belly. I wrapped my hands around the cup and relished the heat.

  “Once the storm dies down a bit, we’ll go out and look for Ginny.”

  I nodded, trying not to give anything away. Ivan had said no sheriff, or Ginny would get hurt. I believed him. I didn’t want to put her life in even more danger than it already was. I just had to get the SIM card back before the sheriff locked it up as evidence.

  “Any ideas about this Victor Minsky? Did he fly in? Or come in on the ferry?” he asked.

  “I’m pretty sure he flew in.”

  “Didn’t you say you saw Ginny in a golf cart?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you get any plate number?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. It’s probably registered under a different name, anyway.”

  “Do you have a computer?” I asked. “We could do some snooping on Victor. Maybe we can figure out where he would go on the island.”

  He nodded and then stood. “I’ll go get my laptop. I’ll be right back.”

  The second he left the room, I was up and out the door and back into the storage room. The sheriff’s jeans were draped over the bench. I grabbed them and rammed my hand into each pocket to find the evidence bag. I got it and shoved it into my bra just as the sheriff called my name.

  “Andi?” He came into the room carrying his laptop. “What are you doing?”

  “I was looking for aspirin. I have a headache. I thought I had some in my jacket.”

  “Your jacket is out front.” He studied me.

  “Right.” I nodded.

  “I’ll get you something for your headache.”

  “Thank you.”

  He waited at the door for me to exit the room, then followed me back into the kitchen. He set the laptop onto the table, then went to the cupboard to get me some pain medicine.

  While he did that, I opened the laptop, went into a browser, and searched for Victor Minsky Michigan. His company page and profile came up, as well as several newspaper articles about his humanitarian and charity work. I kept scrolling, but nothing jumped out.

  The sheriff handed me a couple of pills and some water.

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything?” he asked as he slid a chair over next to me.

  “Nothing important. The usual business stuff.”

  I typed in Ivan Sorokin, just for interest’s sake. I wasn’t expecting anything because I didn’t imagine this guy had a social media footprint. I couldn’t imagine him updating his daily status with skullduggery or sharing photos of his crew. As I suspected, all that came up was a page about some famous Cassock in the 1800s and a Russian figure skater.

/>   The sheriff pulled the laptop toward him and clicked on the portal for a law enforcement network. He logged in. I tried hard not to memorize the keys he typed before he plugged in Victor Minsky. Nothing popped up. No warrants, no rap sheet, no outstanding parking tickets. On the surface, he appeared to be an upstanding, law-abiding citizen.

  There was another loud crack of thunder from outside that made me jump again. The sheriff put his hand on my arm. “Don’t like thunderstorms?”

  “No. Hate them. I used to hide under my bed when I was a kid. I used to fear the sound would cut me in half.”

  “You’re safe in here.”

  As if to contradict that statement, another crack of thunder sliced through the air. We could hear the front doors of the station rattling like chains.

  I jumped again, turned, and grabbed onto the sheriff, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. He put his arm around me and rubbed his hand up and down my back. Like soothing a wild thing.

  It felt good in his arms. Safe. Secure. Comfortable.

  I lifted my head slowly, my cheek rubbing against his chin. I heard his breath catch as I turned my face to his. I stared into his eyes, seeing his pupils dilate, the blue of his irises darkening. Our lips were mere inches apart. I could smell the coffee on his breath, and I wondered what he would taste like.

  He swallowed and licked his lips. I watched the tip of his tongue. Gnawing slightly on my bottom lip, I moved a little closer until we were a whisper apart. I parted my lips in anticipation of feeling his mouth on mine.

  “This is so not the time,” he breathed.

  “I know. It’s a bad idea.”

  “The worst.”

  I gasped as he pressed his lips to mine. The whole world started to spin, and I was spinning with it.

  Then the sound of the front doors smashing open broke us apart.

  We were both up and out of our chairs, running to the lobby to see Marshall come stumbling in. I didn’t think it was possible to be as drenched as he was. He turned and struggled to pull the doors closed. The sheriff helped him. Once they were closed, the sheriff threw the bolt.

  “It’s bad out there, Sheriff. I’ve never seen it this bad,” Marshall said as he peeled off his first layer of clothing and let it slap onto the floor.