Three-Day Weekends are Murder

by Rayna Morgan

  Lea was picking gingerly through the lingerie when she heard a faint scraping sound. Turning toward the source, she held her breath as a piece of rolled plastic slipped through the crack between the door and the frame. Her body froze as though someone hit a pause button controlling her moving parts.

  Like a lizard, the plastic intruder inched its way up until it struck the latch. A cutaway section on the rolled sheet latched onto the knob and pulled it, releasing the lock. The plastic fell to the floor.

  A hairy hand reached through the door and opened it wide enough for a wiry figure in black to slip inside. The uninvited visitor closed the door and leaned over to recover the plastic. As he straightened, his eyes landed on Lea. “What the—”

  Lea’s pulse throbbed in her neck, cutting off her air.

  He pulled something out of his pocket which fit in his hand like a glove. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Lea pressed her fingernails into the palm of her hand to keep herself from screaming. Intuition told her being aggressive might be her best move. “You’re asking me, considering the way you entered the room?”

  A metallic click indicated she may have misjudged how to handle the situation. Her eyes jumped from his face to the point of the switchblade he held. “Hold on, mister. What’s your problem?”

  “Who are you?” he demanded, advancing toward her. “What are you doing in this room?”

  She took a step back. The back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. She fell backwards, catching herself on outstretched arms.

  As she struggled to sit up, she pulled the phone out of her back pocket, hit the first digit, and pushed the speaker button. She coughed to cover the answering voice on the other end of the call. Dropping the phone on the bed, she stood up, spreading her arms to block the intruder’s view of the device.

  “What’s the idea of pulling a knife on me!” she yelled. “If anyone has a right to be here, it’s a police consultant. I suppose you’re going to tell me you didn’t know this room is next to a crime scene?”

  His drooping eyes scanned her, making her feel like reptile prey. A spasm near his right eye made his face twitch, a turtle snapping its jaws. “You don’t look like nobody who works for the cops.”

  “And you don’t look like anyone with a good reason to be here.”

  The chirping sound of her phone made both of them jump. She spun around to grab it from the bed and turn off the speaker.

  “Don’t answer that!” he shouted.

  A message from Maddy. She wished desperately her sister were here to help.

  “What’s that phone doin’ on the—”

  It chirped again, this time a call from Amber. If only she could answer…

  “Is someone looking for you?”

  She reminded herself to breathe as she watched him decide how to respond. Sunlight glared off the blade he held. “Put that thing away,” Lea begged.

  “Who did you tell?” He took two steps toward her. “Who knows you’re here?”

  “No one,” she swore. “But those calls you didn’t let me answer, it’s the front desk. They want me to return the key I borrowed. Since I didn’t respond, they’ll send security.”

  Lea raised her arms to defend herself as he advanced.

  * * *

  Pat Fisher drove to the Surf and Sand alone, dispatched to the hotel to relinquish the crime scene. She thought about the morning squad session where the assignments were handed out.

  “The coroner’s finished his post-mortem exam,” Cranston told the team. “I’m satisfied that all potential evidence has been collected. Fisher, go to the hotel and take down the crime scene tape. Turn the keys over to the manager and tell him it’s all his.”

  She knew the assignment was less a matter of procedure with Cranston and more the fact that he was fed up with receiving calls from the hotel manager complaining about the room not being available during the busy weekend.

  “You could threaten to release the room number to the press unless the manager stops bugging you,” Pat suggested. “If that room is identified as the scene of a violent crime, renting it could become a problem.”

  Cranston shook his head, making no attempt to hide his opinion of her suggestion. “You haven’t been around long enough, Rookie,” he sneered. “I’m cynical enough to believe the opposite is more likely. The room could become a hot spot for people to book.”

  Pat knew better than to play into his condescending manner, but she wanted to hear what he had to say. “Why do you think that?”

  “People recoil in shock and horror, but they’re fascinated by murder. It’s a form of voyeurism. Trying to understand how someone could do an act where someone else loses a life is beyond people’s comprehension. Seeing where it happened helps them visualize how it was done. They imagine the unthinkable, that it could happen to them. They wonder if they would have noticed the murderer at the pool or in the restaurant.”

  Recalling those comments, she reflected on the difference between Tom and his temporary replacement. Cranston saw only the dark side of human nature. Tom looked for redeeming qualities.

  She parked in a restricted zone at the hotel and made her way through the entrance, weaving her way around a toddler walking backwards with a thumb in his mouth. Her first stop was the reception desk to alert the manager of her mission.

  She waited while the woman at the front desk dealt with a customer. Watching the hotel employee gave her pause. Something was different, maybe the hair or glasses, but the young woman looked familiar. She sensed they had met before under far different circumstances.

  A nervous glance from the employee helped Pat recognize the signature brown eyes, and the pieces fell in place. Pat sized up the situation with an empathy her male counterparts sometimes lacked. If the witness whose testimony had put a thug behind bars was trying to reinvent herself, Pat would put their acquaintance in an acceptable context.

  She stepped to the counter and smiled in a friendly manner. “Good to see you. Hope you haven’t had any more fender benders.”

  Amber’s jaw relaxed. She mouthed the words ‘thank you’ before saying aloud, “Don’t worry, Officer, I’m keeping my eyes on the road. How may I help you?”

  Pat kept her comments informal for the benefit of listening ears. “You can let the manager know our business here is finished. I’ll pick up our things and drop off the key on my way out.”

  Amber leaned over the counter. “In case you run into Lea,” she whispered, “she’s in the room next door.”

  Pat’s face remained blank, but an elevated tone expressed her surprise. “What’s she up to?”

  Amber hesitated to say more. “It’s complicated,” she replied.

  “Try me,” Pat insisted. “Better yet, I’ll get an explanation from her. Call her. Tell her I’m on my way up.”

  She watched Amber dial a number. “There’s no answer. That can’t be right. I told her to listen for my call.”

  The look of concern on the young woman’s face was contagious.

  “What’s the room number?” Pat demanded. “Give me the second key.”

  “Room 618,” Amber stammered. “Lea’s got the second key which means I’m in trouble.”

  Pat understood the young woman’s anxiety since the original card was at police headquarters. The police had assumed the room key in the victim’s possession was a duplicate given to her by the suspect. Failing to verify that with Eric during his interrogation meant failure to realize that the victim had a room of her own.

  Pat rattled off instructions. “Page housekeeping. Have someone meet me at 618 immediately.”

  She pulled out her phone to let the station know her change in plans and alert them she might need backup. Before her call was answered, Amber flagged her.

  “Someone else called housekeeping to Room 618. The maid is letting a man in the room as we speak.”

  Pat slammed her phone shut and ran toward the elevator.

  * * *

  Tom w
aved the maid back and entered the room. His eyes moved swiftly between Lea and a man holding a knife. He spread his arms to his sides to show he wasn’t armed, and walked forward slowly. “Is there a problem?” he asked. His voice was low and controlled.

  “Take another step and she gets sliced,” the voice warned.

  “Take it easy, mister. No one needs to get hurt.”

  Emboldened by Tom’s presence, Lea stepped in front of the man. “We know who you are and why you’re here.”

  The man’s eyes raced back and forth like a lizard trapped in a jar.

  “If you’re looking for ways out,” Tom told him, “they don’t exist.”

  The detective paced himself, moving step by step until he stood behind Lea. He heard a familiar voice, but didn’t take his eyes from the target.

  “Tom…Lea…What the heck is going on?” Pat shouted from the doorway.

  “Back off, Officer,” Tom warned. “This gentleman doesn’t want more company. Move down the hall.”

  With a quick movement, he pulled Lea behind him placing himself between her and the intruder. “Let’s make this between the two of us, man to man.”

  Red blotches appeared on the small man’s face. He switched the knife from one hand to the other.

  Holding the man’s eyes and inching sideways like a crab, Tom forced the man closer toward the door to the adjoining suite. He held up a finger to focus his adversary’s attention. “I’ll give you one more chance to put away that weapon.”

  The door behind the little man jerked open and Fisher body slammed him from behind. They crashed to the floor, and the switchblade slid across the carpet.

  Pat pulled the man’s arm behind his back and cuffed him as Tom retrieved the knife.

  “You okay, Lea?” he asked.

  Lea sat on the bed, sucking air into her lungs. “Thank heavens, you got my call.”

  “I told you I’d be close. I was in the lobby when you cut me into your conversation with our friend here.”

  Everyone looked at the prisoner. Pat hoisted him off the floor and pulled a wallet from his pocket.

  “Gus Murphy, that you?” she asked, reading the license.

  The turtle withdrew to his shell, refusing to answer.

  “Where did you come from, Rookie?” Tom asked, handing the knife to Pat.

  “I was assigned the task of releasing the crime scene.” She looked at Lea. “Imagine my surprise when I found Amber working the front desk. I figured you or Maddy weren’t far away. You’re lucky Amber had the sense to clue me in. When you didn’t answer her call, we knew something was wrong.”

  She stopped her explanation and glanced nervously at Tom. “Not that you couldn’t have handled the situation without me, boss.”

  “I was glad to see you,” Tom assured her. “You got my hint about coming through the adjoining suite.”

  “We make a good team,” Pat said.

  She moved the prisoner toward the door. “Cranston will be anxious to talk to Gus.”

  “I’d love to be a fly on that wall,” Tom said.

  “There ain’t going to be nothin’ to hear,” Gus snarled.

  Tom looked at Pat and jerked his head toward the captive. “He obviously never had a run-in with Cranston.”

  The officers laughed, noting the twitch on the right side of the prisoner’s face.

  Pat bagged the switchblade. “What are you doing here anyway, Lieutenant? You’re on sus—”

  “Leave,” Tom said.

  “Yeah, whatever,” Pat said.

  “I was following the Captain’s orders. Enjoying the rest of my vacation, checking out the babes at the pool.”

  Pat looked skeptical. “That’s something you’d never do. The other single guys in the squad, yeah. You, never. I need to get a statement from you on how you happen to be here.”

  She looked over her shoulder as she steered the prisoner out the door. “Whatever edited version you care to provide.”

  “Maybe while I’m there…”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll figure a way to sneak you into the viewing room while Cranston’s grilling the guy.”

  “Another good read,” Tom told the Rookie. “See you at the station.”

  * * *

  Tom and Lea were conferring about Gus when Maddy rushed into the room and grabbed Lea.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, distraught. “Amber said you were in trouble. You didn’t answer when I—”

  “I’m fine,” Lea said, freeing herself from her sister’s grasp. “Kim’s partner showed up, but Tom came to my rescue as promised. Pat’s taken him away.”

  “I was with Eric. He—”

  “Relax,” Tom said. “You can tell Eric his reputation is intact. We’ve got our hands on the real murderer.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Maddy said, wringing her hands.

  “What do you mean?” Tom asked sharply.

  “That’s what I called to tell you, Sis.” She raised one thumb to her mouth and started to bite her nail. “We’ve got another suspect.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lea asked, clutching her sister’s elbow. “Are you suggesting someone else wanted Kim dead?”

  Maddy stopped biting her nail and fanned her face. “It might have had nothing to do with Kim.”

  “Then how did she end up dead?” Tom frowned.

  “Because,” Maddy said, “she got in someone’s way.”

  Tom waved his hand dismissively. “What’s this, a stupid ploy you and Eric cooked up to prove his innocence?”

  “It’s not, I swear,” Maddy promised. “You need to hear what Eric has to say.”

  A buzzing sound from the phone hooked to his belt caught Tom’s attention. “Pat wants me to follow her to the station.”

  He texted a message and turned to leave. “Take Lea to hear Eric’s story,” he told Maddy. “Besides, he and I don’t do well in the same room together.”

  “Actually,” Maddy said, “he feels better about you now.”

  “What changed his opinion?” Tom asked.

  “After being put through the wringer by that jerk—”

  “I get it. Compared to Cranston, I look pretty good. Is that it?”

  “What I meant—”

  “That’s not saying much. Anybody looks good compared to Cranston.”

  “It’s more than that. Eric thinks—”

  “Forget it. I’ve got to go. If you two can stay out of trouble for a few hours, I’ll meet you later. You can fill me in then.”

  * * *

  After Tom left, Lea voiced her annoyance. “I’ll be glad when Eric leaves town so I won’t have to listen to any more of this bickering.”

  “You and me both,” Maddy agreed. “Let’s go talk to Eric.”

  Lea stopped her. “Not so fast, we’re not through here. Whether Kim’s partner killed her or not, he came to find the necklace. The room is empty except for the bag, and I searched that before he broke in. Where could it be if it’s not in this room?”

  “Why do we care?” Maddy asked, plopping into a chair.

  “The million dollar question is…” Lea mused, walking around the room.

  Maddy tapped her nail on the table. “I’m waiting. Give. The million dollar question is what?”

  “Was Kim’s move to join Eric for a drink accidental or calculated?”

  “As in done for a reason?” Maddy asked.

  Lea walked to the balcony and stared through the screen door. “I vote for calculated. She planned to hit on Eric from the moment she saw him walk out of the room next to hers.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “She wanted access to the adjoining suite,” Lea replied. She turned and looked at her sister. “Now, ask yourself why.”

  Maddy clapped her hands. “To hide something someone would find in her room if they came looking,” she guessed.

  “Bingo! She hooked up with Eric waiting for an opportunity to hide the necklace in his room. The perfect time came when Eric was called to the b
ar. Kim was hiding the necklace when someone knocked on the door. That’s why she was so upset about anyone entering the room.”

  Both women looked at the door to the adjoining suite.

  “But the police went over every inch of that room," Maddy objected. “The necklace isn’t there.”

  “Which means the killer must have taken it,” Lea concluded. She could hardly contain her excitement. “We find the necklace, we find the killer.”

  “Or we find the killer, we find the necklace. Either way, it doesn’t help,” Maddy complained, “since we don’t know who the killer is.”

  “We don’t know the killer’s identity, but we may be able to track him down. Put yourself in his shoes. What would you do with the necklace?”

  “If I needed money,” Maddy said, “I’d hock it.”

  “Right. So we’re looking for someone who needs money. It’s stolen merchandise. He’ll need a fence to do that.”

  “Besides not knowing who the killer is,” Maddy reminded her, “we don’t know any fences.”

  “The police keep track of all the fences in town. I’ll talk to Tom.”

  “All right, but we need to go see Eric first,” Maddy reminded her.

  As they closed the door, Lea thought about the fact that the woman with the necklace had been murdered.

  “Could this be part of the curse of Consuela?” she wondered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  By the time Tom gave his statement and Pat snuck him in to watch the interrogation, Gus and Cranston had reached a stand-off. The cop was trying to hang a murder charge on the little guy with no evidence. With Lea as a witness, Gus could hardly deny breaking and entering Room 618 but with no link between him and Kim, he couldn’t be charged with her murder.

  “Get Cranston to read my statement,” Tom suggested to Pat. “It provides the link he needs.”

  “Won’t he figure out you’re working with Lea?”

  “Don’t worry. My statement is carefully worded. He may read between the lines, but he won’t be able to prove I intended to intervene in the case.”

  “The Chief can read between the lines, too, you know,” Pat warned.

  “Yeah, but he won’t care. In fact, he’ll be glad. He dislikes Cranston as much as I do. The sooner the Chief can send him back north, the happier he’ll be.”