“Yeah, after they left.”
“Did you run into either of them after that? Around the hotel somewhere?”
“The next day—the morning of the murder. I came to the room again, at my usual time. You know, if you folks don’t want me knocking on your door, then put out the do not disturb sign. That’s what it’s there for. It’s not as if—”
Gil interrupted her tirade. “So you knocked again?”
“Yes. This time, the man opened the door and told me real snotty like to come back later. Actually, his wife said it. She was standing behind him and said, ‘Tell the bitch to come back later.’”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘You heard my wife. Later!’ and slammed the door right in my face.”
Gil wondered what Donovan would have asked next. “So that was it? You didn’t see either of them again after that until you found Mr. Westerly dead?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you see anything strange in the room when you found him?” he asked. “Something that might help the police?”
She hesitated and something shifted in her eyes, something that made him feel she was lying when she answered. “No. I didn’t have time to notice nuthin’. That’s when you came in.”
Gil looked at Wendell and received the same shrug as before. “Gracie, do you want to tell this to the police?”
“Wendell thinks I should.”
“What do you think?”
“I think they’ll arrest me,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because it’ll be easy. I’m not from this country.”
“That’s not enough of a reason for them to arrest anyone.”
“No?” Her eyes flashed. “Have you dealt with the police before?”
“Well,” he admitted, “I haven’t had much reason to—”
“Well, I have!” she said. “As a woman, especially as an immigrant, I have no reason to put much confidence in your police.”
“Gracie, let me take you to Detective Donovan; he’s the man in charge. He seems fair; I know he’ll listen to you.”
Grace hesitated, then said sullenly, “I don’t know. I have to think about it.”
“All right,” Gil said, “I can understand that. But can you at least tell me where you’re staying?”
“No. I don’t trust you . . . not yet.”
“Grace—” Wendell began, but this time it was Gil who quieted him by holding up his hand.
“That’s all right. I understand.” Gil wondered if Grace would have been more comfortable with another woman. “Can we meet here again tomorrow night? It’ll give you time to think about things. You can decide if you’re ready to talk to the police. Okay?”
Sunday was the last day of the convention—by Sunday night, most of the attendees would be gone. Gil thought about Donovan and what he would do concerning the people leaving before his case had been solved.
“Gracie, baby, he’s only tryin’ to help you,” Wendell said.
Gil braced himself for another biting remark from the woman, but it didn’t come.
“All right. Yes, I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”
“Good,” Gil said.
It got awkward again as he waited for one of them to make a move.
“Good,” Wendell said finally, clapping his hands together, “that’s settled, then. Come on, Mr. Hunt, I’ll drive you back to the hotel.”
“I’ll see you here at the same time, Gracie,” Gil said. “I hope you’ll decide to trust me and let me try to do more to help you.”
When she didn’t reply, Gil looked at Wendell, who led him out of the office.
When they reached the van, Wendell stopped before getting in.
“Thanks for cornin’ to see her, Mr. Hunt.”
Gil didn’t point out that he hadn’t really been given much choice.
“Do you think she’ll agree to go to the police?” he asked.
“I sure hope so.”
“Do you think she’ll do anything foolish, Wendell, like running away?”
Wendell hesitated, then said, “I don’t think so. See, we’re together. I don’t think she’d go anywhere without me.”
“I hope you’re right.”
It was starting to get chilly, and as Gil zipped up his jacket, he said, “I was thinking she might respond better to another woman. She doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of men . . . or of the police, for that matter.”
“That might work,” Wendell said, unlocking the doors. “But who would you bring?”
Gil was thinking of Claire, but he didn’t know if he’d dare ask her. By the time he got back to the hotel, she might not even be speaking to him anymore.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Why don’t we get back to the hotel so I can work on it.”
“Right.”
They both got into the van, but before Wendell could start the engine, Gil asked, “Does Graciella have her own transportation?”
He nodded. “She has a car.”
There were several cars in the lot, which Gil assumed belonged to the business, or the owner. “Do you know where she’s staying?”
“Yes, sir, but I don’t think it would be right for me to tell you.”
“I understand,” Gil said. “So I guess we’re done here for today.”
“Yes, sir,” Wendell said, “I guess we are.”
Chapter 39
Gil found out later that after Donovan left the dealers’ room, he went to the lobby to question the bell captain, Frank Winston, about Wendell. In Donovan’s mind, Wendell had stepped up to become a major suspect, and if he had kidnapped Gil Hunt, there might be another murder in the offing.
“Wendell’s real reliable,” Frank said, “or at least he used to be.”
“What happened?”
“Graciella happened,” Frank said. “As soon as the hotel hired her, Wendell changed. He got one sniff of that Spanish snatch—pardon my French—and that was all she wrote. He started chasin’ her right away.”
“And did he catch her?”
“Sure did,” the gray-haired older man said. “They’re a couple, even got a place together.”
“Did Wendell come to work today?”
“That guy never misses a day—which makes what he did this morning sorta strange.”
“And what did he do?” Donovan asked.
“He disappeared on me.” Frank was a black man with sad eyes, which were even sadder at the moment. “That boy was headed for my job. I’m due to retire shortly, and he was next in line. But after this—”
“What do you mean he disappeared?”
“Just what I said. One of the other boys, Hank, told Wendell I needed him, but Wendell said he had something important to do and asked Hank to cover for him. Fact is, I saw Wendell a few minutes after that, rushin’ through the lobby with another fella, a white fella I think is a guest. I started to call him, but they run out the door too fast. I ain’t seen him since.”
“Okay,” Donovan said, “thanks.”
He moved away from the bell captain’s station, took out his cell phone, and keyed in the number of his partner’s phone.
“Jerry? Yeah. I got a situation, here. That maid we’re looking for? Looks like her boyfriend may have grabbed Gil Hunt.”
“Hunt?” Jerry Lyle asked. “That the book dealer you’ve been working with?”
“That’s him. The guy we’re looking for is Wendell Payne. Left here with Hunt less than an hour ago.”
“Did Payne take him against his will?”
“Not sure. I got a witness who says no, but I don’t know how reliable she is. Take some uniforms back out to that house. Turns out he and the maid are shacked up together. Have them canvass the area, see if anyone’s spotted him.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’ll stay here. If he happens to come back here, I’m gonna collar Payne and have a little chat with him. Maybe being cuffed will persuade him to talk.”
; “May not be the first time for him, partner.”
“I know,” Donovan said, “but we’ll see. Anyway, send me some backup. This dude’s a big guy, and if he resists arrest, I’m gonna need help to take him down.”
“You got it. Be careful.”
“Aren’t I always?”
Donovan killed the connection, turned around, and saw Claire Duncan coming across the lobby toward him. She did not look happy.
Chapter 40
It took ten minutes for Claire to mull over her conversation with Detective Donovan and get good and frustrated. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed Donovan hadn’t reacted properly to the information she’d given him. Granted, she was not a cop, or even a mystery writer, but she was a very logical person. Her logic and good common sense had always gotten her through the rough spots. And now it seemed obvious to her that Wendell taking Gil away from the hotel the way he had should have set off some sort of cop alarm in Donovan’s head. It was logical to her that if Wendell was involved with the maid and now she was missing, and then he had become involved with Gil, who was missing, too, that made Wendell Payne a very suspicious character—no matter how many nice things Gil had to say about him.
She waited as long as she could, but then her frustration started calling the shots. She had to find Donovan and make sure he understood what was happening and did something about it—now. And this thing that was going on between her and Gil Hunt, whether it was romantic or platonic, she certainly wanted to find out about it. And she couldn’t do that if he was . . . dead.
She turned to the dealer nearest her and asked, “Could you please tell me what you have to do to close out a table?”
Claire saw Donovan in the lobby of the hotel; he was talking on his cell phone. She crossed the floor just as he was breaking the connection. When he saw her, he looked surprised.
“Mrs. Duncan—”
“What are you doing about finding Gil?” she demanded.
“Well, ma’am, I’m—”
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, detective. And don’t patronize me and tell me you’ll handle everything. I gave you a critical piece of information. Gil has been taken away—maybe kidnapped—by someone who should be your number-one suspect, and you act as if all you can do is stand here and wait until he walks back through the front door . . . all by himself.”
“Mrs.—”
“And just for the record, I am not Mrs. Hunt. Please make sure in the future that you get my name right. I hope you’re not this careless with details when you write up your reports.” She felt she’d gone too far as soon as the words had left her mouth, but she stood her ground, glaring up at him.
“May I speak now?”
“Go ahead,” she said, folding her arms.
“As soon as you told me about Wendell and Mr. Hunt leaving the hotel together, I came out here to talk to Wendell’s boss. I also called my partner and started a search for both of them. In addition, I’ve had backup dispatched to assist me, just in case there’s trouble when Wendell returns.”
“Assist you to do what?”
“Arrest Wendell Payne.”
“You’re going to arrest him?”
“As soon as I see him. I’m going to take him into custody, so we’ll be able to question him thoroughly.”
“And what about Mr. Hunt?”
“I’m hoping we’ll find he’s safe,” Donovan said.
“Well ... if he’s not safe, I’m holding you responsible. If you’d taken that man into custody in the first place . . .”
“We really didn’t have any reason to before now,” Donovan said. “But kidnapping, now that’s something we can act on.”
“You’re also thinking Gil might have been kidnapped?”
“Yes I am. And we have you as our witness if it turns out that way.”
Claire’s anger slowly deflated. “You’re going to arrest a man for kidnapping, based on my say-so?”
“You’re the one who saw him push Mr. Hunt into a van.”
“I never said ‘pushed,’” she protested. “I said I saw them get into the van together.”
“Well, we’ll learn the truth soon enough,” Donovan said. “We know where Wendell lives, and if he comes back to work, we’ll have him.”
“What if he never comes back?” she asked. “What if you can’t find him or that maid?”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Duncan. We’ll find them.” And then with somewhat less confidence, he added, “The only question is, Will we find them soon enough?”
“Soon enough . . . for what?”
He reached out as if to give her a comforting pat but then drew his hand back quickly. “Not to placate you, but just let us do our job. Things usually turn out okay when we’re left alone to do what we’ve been trained to do.”
At that moment, the front doors opened and two uniformed officers entered the lobby.
“Here are my boys,” he said. “Excuse me.”
While Donovan went to talk to the cops, Claire stood there with her arms still folded, wondering what she was supposed to do next. Had she just made a complete fool of herself in front of the detective? What if Gil had simply gone with Wendell for some reason that was none of her business? Was she way out of line here? And would he be angry with her because she had closed down his table? He was here to do business, after all.
No, that had been the right thing to do. His safety was much more important than selling a few more books. When she saw him and told him how concerned she had been, he’d understand. He’d probably have done the same thing if she’d left like that.
Now all she wanted to do was see him again.
Chapter 41
Gil and Wendell talked more during the ride back to the hotel.
“When you first started coming to Omaha a couple of years ago for your conventions,” Wendell said, “Gracie wasn’t working at the hotel yet. She only started there earlier this year. Man, when I first saw her, I knew she was the woman for me.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Wendell, she’s a lovely woman, but she does seem to have a lot of issues.”
“‘Issues’? What do you mean?”
“There’s a lot of bitterness inside her. Especially toward, uh, men. And about the way she feels she’s been treated so unfairly since coming to this country.”
“She had a real bad time of it in her own country,” Wendell said. “She came here expecting things to be different . . . better, you know?”
“Ah, that old American dream—it gets ’em every time. Unfortunately, things don’t always turn out the way people want them to.”
“Well, I’m sure gonna try to make it turn out right for her,” Wendell said. “We just gotta get past this. She shouldn’t be punished because she panicked and ran. That ain’t right.”
“Once the police hear her story, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Gil said, hoping he was right.
As they pulled into the hotel parking lot, they saw the police car out front.
“Oh Lord,” Wendell said, “Now what?”
“Take it easy, Wendell. There’s still a murder investigation going on, remember? They’re probably just here to work on that.”
Wendell swung the van into a parking spot. The men got out and walked to the front of the hotel. As they entered, Gil saw Detective Donovan in the lobby with two uniformed officers. When Donovan and the cops saw Gil and Wendell, they rushed them. Gil was pushed aside as the three men tackled Wendell to the ground and handcuffed him.
“Wendell Payne,” Gil heard Donovan announce, “you’re under arrest. Officer, read him his rights.”
Donovan backed away, bumping into Gil as the two officers brought Wendell back to his feet and began reading to him from a printed card. Wendell looked totally confused, his eyes rolling about wildly.
“What the hell—” Gil began, but Donovan cut him off abruptly.
“Take it easy, Mr. Hunt. We’ll need a statement from you, so don’t go anywhere.”
�
�Wait,” Gil said loudly. “What are you—”
“I’m doing my job,” Donovan said, putting his hand against Gil’s chest. “Just stand back now.”
“But you don’t understand,” Gil said, looking at Wendell. “We just—” He was brought up short by the look on Wendell’s face, and the frantic way the big man was shaking his head. It was obvious Wendell didn’t want Gil giving away the fact that they had just been to see Graciella.
“We’re taking him in,” Donovan said, “I’ll come back to get your statement.”
“What are you charging him with?” Gil asked. “Certainly not murder.”
“No,” Donovan said, “for now it’s just kidnapping.”
“What?” Gil asked, but he was speaking to no one as the three policemen dragged Wendell out to the squad car. Helplessly, Gil said aloud, “But who did he kidnap?”
Claire had decided to go into the bar. She needed a drink, and she could watch the lobby from there. She was sitting at one of the high bar tables when she heard the ruckus in the lobby. She saw the police push Gil aside and take Wendell down to the floor. She watched, as stunned as everyone else, then hurriedly left her seat and rushed out into the lobby. She reached Gil in time to hear him ask his question out loud.
“I’m afraid,” she said, “that was all my fault.”
Gil turned to face her, confused. “Claire, w—what just happened?”
She touched his arm. “I saw you leave with Wendell, and when Detective Donovan came by your table, I told him about it.”
“And that was reason enough for them to arrest the man? Jesus,” Gil said, putting his hand to his forehead. “What a mess.”
“Where did you go? What were you doing with Wendell? I was so scared.”
“Didn’t you get my message?”
“Well, yes, but it hardly explained—”
“Who’s watching my table?” he asked suddenly.
“I, uh, closed it,” she said. “The man at the next table helped me cover it and—”
“Closed it?” he said, raising his voice.
“Well, I was worried about you! You call me, practically begging for help, and then disappear for the whole—”
Same Time, Same Murder: A Gil and Claire Hunt Mystery Page 13
