The Hotel

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “What do you think?” I angrily accused. “We need to talk ... privately,” I said, my eyes darting to Neal who was still holding up the wall.

  She licked her lips nervously and shifted her eyes between Neal and me. “Well, okay, come into the kitchen.” She glanced back at Neal. “Honey, we need some girl-time.” Neal bobbed his head and darted into the living room. “Come on back,” Joyce directed.

  I followed her down a long hallway and into the kitchen, watching her silky strands flowing down her back. As soon as we were seated in two chairs in a connecting breakfast nook, my mouth erupted. “I know about you and Greg. I’m calling the police as soon as I leave here. But I wanted to hear it from you first. How long, Joyce? How long have you been carrying on with my husband? And what did you do to him?”

  She looked flabbergasted. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t pretend Joyce. My daughter saw you with Greg. I know it was you. Just answer me!”

  “Honestly, Emily, I don’t know what you’re going on about. There’s nothing between me and Greg. And I haven’t done anything to him. You’re acting crazy. You’ve lost your mind.”

  “Ava saw the two of you in a parking lot and Greg had his arm around you. She said you were all snugged up together.”

  Recognition in her eyes caused her to softly nod at me. “Oh, I know what happened.” She rolled her eyes. “I saw Ava’s class was on a field trip last Friday at the Science Museum. She must’ve missed me when I waved to her.” She leaned into me and lowered her voice. “Neal’s birthday is coming up, his fortieth, and I want to throw him a surprise party. I asked Greg and Lucas to help me ... not Roger,” she added. “I don’t want a drunken brawl ... if you know what I mean.” Then she let out a laugh that died away when I didn’t join her. “Okay then,” she said, realizing she hadn’t diminished my foul mood. “Greg came over to the museum and we had lunch together in the cafeteria and discussed some of the options, possible venues, and who all to invite, you know, things like that. Anyway, I had a box of books on dinosaurs that I needed to return to the library. It was heavy and he offered to carry it out to the car for me. Clumsy me, I managed to twist my heel on a chunk of cement and when I lost my balance, your quick husband grabbed me up while balancing the box in one hand. Damn impressive, I might add. Anyway, he kept an arm around my shoulder until we got to my car. After he placed the box in the trunk, we said goodbye and that was that.” She looked at me squarely in the eyes. “So, you see, Emily, all your ranting was unfounded.”

  Boy, did I have egg on my face. After talking to Joyce, and even Neal, I was convinced she and Greg weren’t involved. I kept my mouth shut about Neal’s surprise party and especially about Greg’s murder. Then I left, apologizing all the way from the kitchen, out the door and to my car, where they waved goodbye and told me they couldn’t wait to get together, hopefully soon.

  Leaving Joyce and Neal’s house, I drove down to the nearest parking lot which turned out to be a Walmart. Pulling into a space, I did the only thing I could think of. I retrieved the private investigator’s business card and gave him a call.

  ◆◆◆

  “Liam Marshall, private investigator. How may I help you?”

  “Hello ... uh, my name is Emily Mills.” My voice was cracking all over the place, unsure about what to say, or not to say. Then my vocals completely shut down.

  “Hello,” he called back. “Is anyone still there?”

  “Yes,” I finally eked out. “You may not remember me, but you gave me your card at The Bliss Motel...”

  “Yes, yes, I definitely remember you. As a matter of fact, I need to talk to you, the sooner the better ... like right now.”

  Oh God, someone must’ve found Greg. “Oh, what about?” I asked innocently.

  “You know what about. Meet me at Zanda’s Diner.”

  He gave me the address and we agreed on a time. My heart was pounding out of my chest and my palms were sweating. Like a scared little girl, I called my mommy.

  “Mom, I called that detective thinking I’d hire him to help me find out who Greg was cheating on me with. He knew right away who I was. They must’ve found Greg’s body because he wants me to meet him.”

  “Oh God, Emily. Oh God. Do you think they’ll arrest you?”

  “They probably will. I just wanted to let you know so if I didn’t come home, you’d know I was in jail. Oh God,” I wailed. “What do you think is going to happen?”

  “Let’s find out what he knows first, and we’ll go from there. But if they’re going to arrest you, let me know and I’ll call Lucas. He’ll know how to bond you out. Oh Jesus,” she cried.

  “Okay, well, I’ll let you know.”

  By the time I pulled into the parking lot at Zanda’s, I was a nervous wreck and bordering on hysteria. I gulped in some deep breaths just to keep from hyperventilating. Dragging my shaky legs from the car, I ambled into the small quiet diner, pleased to see only three other tables occupied and one elderly gentleman at the counter, sipping on a cup of coffee. Mr. Marshall was situated against the wall in a back booth, where no one could sneak up on him and he saw everyone heading in his direction.

  He spotted me entering and stood, awaiting my approach. Nearing him, he stuck out his hand. “I don’t believe I formally introduced myself. I’m Liam Marshall. You can call me Liam.”

  Shaking his hand, I introduced myself, requesting that he call me Emily. He scooted back into the booth and I slid in opposite him. Looking past his untrimmed beard and mustache, I gazed into his soft green eyes and waited for him to make the first move.

  “Would you like something?” he asked when a waitress appeared holding two menus.

  My stomach felt queasy, and I feared being unable to keep anything down. On the other hand, I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and my stomach had intermittently growled at me for the past few hours. “Yes, I’d like a piece of toast and some hot tea,” I told the waitress.

  He ordered a chicken-fried steak, fries, fried okra, and two pieces of chocolate cake, along with a glass of iced tea. “I’m starving,” he told me.

  The waitress scribbled down the order and returned a short bit later with the drinks. We said nothing to each other during the time. He took in a breath and then held a steady gaze on me. My nervousness multiplied and I wrung the napkin in my hands into confetti.

  “You want to talk about what you were doing in a room next to a dead man?” he began without beating around the bush. He hesitated barely a second, then added, “The car parked out front of the room was registered to Gregory and Emily Mills ... Mrs. Mills.”

  Thank goodness I was seated, otherwise I would’ve puddled to the ground. It was all I could do to dig deep into what modicum of strength remained and force away my threatening tears.

  “Well,” he said when I had remained voiceless.

  My lips quivered. “Spying on my husband,” I finally managed.

  “Let’s go back in time. Tell me how you knew he was there.”

  “By happenstance. I was stopped at a red light and saw his car turn left in front of me. After turning around, I followed him to that motel.”

  “Then what happened?”

  I shrugged. “I ... I waited in the parking lot for a while and then I got the bright idea to rent the room next to his and listen through the walls.”

  “Okay, so you checked into the neighboring room, then what?”

  “I didn’t hear anything for a long time. I hadn’t eaten anything and that’s when I went for the snacks and you helped me with the stuck candy bar. And then when I came back for ice, you gave me your business card.”

  “Then what?” he pushed.

  “I heard them.” My eyes closed and a trickle of tears leaked down my cheeks. “After a while, I couldn’t take it and I drank everything in the mini-fridge and passed out. When I came to for the second time, I went out for air. When I did, I noticed the door was cracked open and I went inside. I saw
him like that. It freaked me out and I vomited in the restroom. Then I really freaked out that I was in there and I tried to wipe down the surfaces I had touched and did the same in my room. Later, after noticing a trail of blood between the two rooms, I tried to clean that up too. Then I packed the towels and trash in a bag.” I looked at him. “It’s still in my cargo area. Then I went to my mother’s house.”

  He sat quietly for long time while I fought hard not have a mental breakdown. “What point did you go in and kill him?” he asked in a casual tone.

  Short breaths erupted from my lungs. My chest rose and fell in rising panic. “I ... I didn’t kill him. Surely you must know the girl he was with did it ... don’t you think?” I asked.

  “I was watching, Emily. You came out of your room and wandered out into the parking lot. You were in your car for a while and then you disappeared. Is that when you killed him?”

  My heart had never raced so violently. I was going to have a heart attack. There wasn’t a single shred of my memory recalling having done that. “No, I went for a 3 Musketeers bar and then back to my room.” Dear God, I hoped that’s what I did.

  “I think there wasn’t ever a girl in that room with him. I think you lured your husband there and then went inside and killed him. I think your marriage was in trouble and you’d lost hope. Isn’t that right, ‘Lost Hope?’”

  “No, no, no,” I argued, shaking my head to the point my blonde hair was flailing about. “That’s not at all what happened. I loved Greg. We have a beautiful daughter together and a solid marriage. You’re wrong.”

  “Is that why he was in a sleazy motel with another woman ... because you had a beautiful daughter and a solid marriage?”

  Glaring at him, I refused to respond.

  “Okay, who was the girl?” he asked.

  “You tell me. She was gone when I went in. But surely her DNA will be in the sheets.”

  “Maybe there will be ... if there was a girl in there.”

  “There was,” I screeched. He looked around and nodded at the other patrons as if to apologize for my outburst. “There was,” I said firmly in a much lower voice.

  “Is that why you called me? To get me to track down the female?”

  “Yes, it is. It certainly wasn’t to tell you I had murdered my husband,” I barked. “Because I didn’t,” I added roughly.

  He blew out his cheeks. “Okay, then, who do you think he was with?”

  Feeling defeated, my body frame slumped. “I don’t know.” I went into a long explanation about everyone I had talked to and had seemed to eliminate. “Greg worked at the DA’s office and was a member of a racquetball club. He could’ve met someone at either place ... or anywhere. I just don’t know.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a start. I know where I shouldn’t be wasting my time.”

  “I’m not hiring you now,” I said hatefully. “Not if you think I killed my husband.”

  He gave me a slow smile. “I know you didn’t kill your husband. I just wanted to see how you were going to hold up when the police bring you in for questioning.”

  I wanted to slap his face off, but where was it underneath all that hair? He admitted I left my car, purchased the 3 Musketeers and returned to my room ... without going to Greg’s room. I didn’t recall the event, but possibly I was considering leaving and going home. Thank goodness I didn’t drive drunk. From this day forward, I was going to be ultra-careful about my drinking. We talked dollar figures on hiring him and came to terms. And, for the first time, it felt like I had an ally in law enforcement and maybe his being there that night was a blessing in disguise.

  “Here you go,” the waitress said, placing a mammoth-sized plate of food before him and a small saucer of toast in front of me.

  “We’d like a second plate, please,” he requested.

  “I’m not hungry,” I protested.

  The waitress returned a moment later with an extra plate. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked.

  “Not right now,” he answered. He took the plate from her and sliced off a chunk of the chicken-fried steak and sectioned off some of the fries and okra and placed it in front of me. “Dig in. I know damn-well you’ve probably barely eaten anything in the last two days. You’ll need nourishment if you’re going to be of any help to me.”

  A thin smile formed on my lips. Out of courtesy, I nibbled a few bites and ended up eating most of the chocolate cake, the second slice apparently having been ordered for me. When I pushed my plate away and he let out a loud belch, we declared the meal a success.

  “How come that place is able to stay in business?” I asked. “It’s clearly used for prostitution.”

  He chuckled, wadding his napkin and placing it on the table. “It’s a trap for drug dealers. Glenda Douglas runs the place. The way she sees the world, she’s providing a public service because she will not tolerate drugs. The police turn a blind eye to her ‘escort’ service, as they prefer to think of it. In exchange, she sets up any drug dealers that try to set up operation there. It’s a give and take situation.”

  “The lesser of two evils,” I said. “Who’s better behind bars ... a drug dealer, or a hooker?”

  “Exactly,” he said with a nod.

  “Is that why you were there?” I pried.

  “Yes, the department rotates their undercover officers as much as possible, but every now and then I’m brought in as an unrecognizable figure.”

  He pulled at the unruly hairs on his chin. “I grew myself some facial hair this time. What do you think?”

  I smirked. “You fit right into that place.”

  “Hey now, I think I’m going to take offense to the way you said that.”

  I laughed. “Hey, you asked. I wouldn’t want to give false statements to someone in law enforcement.” He chuckled, causing tiny lines by his green eyes to crinkle.

  The waitress came by, removed the plates and asked if we wanted anything else.

  “The lady would like another cup of hot tea and you can give me a refill too.”

  I liked him, I decided. He had a somewhat bossy personality, yet he came across as very caring. While he had another cup of coffee and I sipped more tea, I worked up my nerve and finally asked, “Is there anything you can tell me about what happened?”

  He bit at his lip, unsure of telling me anything. “The maid smelled something foul and, after knocking, she used her key to go inside and found the scene. Your husband’s body was taken in for identification. The car was processed at the motel, but later removed for intense forensic testing. His wallet and phone weren’t with him, or someone took them. Having his driver’s license would have helped with the ID and I’m sure the recent calls would’ve quickly pointed us in the right direction. As it is, we’ll have to subpoena his phone records. But it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Thank you,” I said when he’d finished.

  Reaching for his wallet, he tossed some money over the ticket the waitress had dropped off. He walked me to my car so I could give him the bag of towels and trash. I had also added a zip-locking bag containing the clothing I was wearing along with my footwear in a separate bag so as not to contaminate any blood onto my clothing. “I don’t think there’s any blood on them, except for the shoes, which is why they’ve been kept separate. If you’ll pull the surveillance cameras, you’ll see it’s the same outfit I had on when I was at the ATM. Hopefully it will be enough to prove I didn’t kill Greg.”

  “Okay, I’ll turn it in,” he agreed.

  “Am I going to be in trouble for not reporting anything?” I croaked out.

  “It’s not my call,” he said. “I was there on an unrelated matter. Once the detectives have more thoroughly processed the evidence, your involvement will be assessed.”

  After parting ways, I remained seated in my car. I watched as he drove away, then I had another meltdown wondering what was going to happen to me ... and to Ava, especially if I had to spend any amount of time in jail.

  �
�◆◆

  It would only be a matter of time before the police would be calling me in for questioning. Tomorrow was a workday for me at the bank. I wondered if I should call in sick and get Jordan to cover my shift, not only for tomorrow, but Saturday was my alternate weekend to work. Money was going to be super tight without Greg’s income and, too, Greg hadn’t even worked at the D.A.’s office for six months. He probably didn’t have any benefits built up that would help me get by. If possible, I needed to keep my job.

  We had eaten at a diner near the motel, so before heading back to Mother’s I did a drive-by, even circling the parking lot and staring at the vacant space where Greg’s car used to be. I didn’t know why, but it felt hollow with it being gone. Crime scene tape was plastered against room 7 ... and room 6, my room. Seeing everything, caused another meltdown and I pulled up near the front office, leaned my head on the steering wheel and cried. I needed to get it all out before going home to Ava. She didn’t need to be worried about any of this stuff. Just knowing her father was dead was too much for her to handle.

  When I pulled my face up, that overweight, pimply guy was standing in the doorway of the office, staring at me. I wondered what he might know. So, I crawled out of my car and headed toward him.

  “I thought it was you,” he said. “How come the police didn’t arrest you yet?”

  “Because I didn’t kill anyone. There wasn’t any need.” He didn’t need to know they hadn’t even talked to me yet. Besides, I didn’t kill anyone. “They said you’d tell me everything you knew.”

  “That sounds strange, considering the room you stayed in is part of the crime scene. Why wouldn’t they tell you themselves?” he asked with a doubtful look on his face.

  “No, not at all, it’s like a test. They want to know if you tell me the same thing you told them,” I lied, hoping he would, not only disclose what he told them, he wouldn’t leave anything out.