The Hotel

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “I’m not taking this shit from you. Get out. Get out of my house right now.” She pointed her finger at the back door. “Go ... NOW!”

  “I’ve filed a report with the police about my daughter. I’m sure they’ll be sending an officer over to question you about your relationship with Paul.”

  She shooed her hand for us to leave. “Go on now, before I have security remove you.”

  “Okay, we will.” Rising to my feet, I took a few steps and then turned back to her. “For what it’s worth, Felicia, I’m really sorry about what Paul did to you.”

  “Don’t be,” she smarted. “He loves me. You’ll see.”

  As I closed the glass door to the solarium, I looked back at her. She was frantically punching her finger at her phone, most likely calling Paul.

  “Well, that went well,” Liam said sarcastically as soon as we were back in my car.

  “Yeah, I shouldn’t have been so harsh. She’s only a child. Fifteen when Paul first got to her. It makes me wonder if he’s had anyone younger and how close he was to getting to my daughter.” Disgusted with Paul and his vile ways, I felt like I needed to go home and take a shower.

  “I’ll get with the detective who took your statement to let her know about what just happened. This Paul Jensen is definitely a piece of work.” He paused briefly. “Tell me about Ellen.”

  After telling him everything I knew, he just shook his head. “Why did you say Felicia’s mom took it to Twice Blessed then?”

  I shrugged. “Because the store clerk was clear about it being donated by Margaret Winslow. I was there when some of the items were dropped off. Felicia was right about this dress. It must’ve belonged to her, or to Paul for any number of his girls to wear.” I glanced at him. “Funny thing about that day though ... guess who was in the store when a furniture delivery was being made.”

  “Molly Jensen,” he answered.

  “Yes, she was. Maybe she just had to gloat about seeing it being dropped off. I thought she was there to buy her daughter a white shirt and it seemed like they were both embarrassed about the possibility of being spotted in such a demeaning place.”

  “She might’ve seen you and wanted to get the hell gone before you noticed her.”

  “No, I don’t think she saw me because I kept low so I could spy on her.” I frowned. “Isn’t that terrible?”

  “Nope, not one bit.” He chuckled. “Maybe I’ll hire you to do my next job.”

  I laughed. “You may have to, just to pay off my bill with you.”

  “I’m going to call the department and see what they can find out about Paul Jensen.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m game for taking him down.”

  ◆◆◆

  As soon as I dropped Liam back at his car, I drove away from the glitzy, rich life filled with zillion dollar homes and headed for my mother’s. On the way I gave her a call to check on Ava and update her. We agreed for me to bring Chinese food home for dinner.

  “I’ll be there soon,” I told her.

  Exiting from the freeway and going down Hulen, I stopped in at Panda Express. The establishment at this location didn’t have a drive-through so I had to go inside to order. I sighed, seeing a long line ahead of me. I audibly groaned when the lady in front of me changed her mind three times before sticking with her order. She looked familiar to me. I thought she was a realtor whose face I’d seen on benches sprinkled throughout town. Yes, she was ... Susan Forester, I think her name was.

  Finally carrying out a big white plastic bag with a panda printed on the side, I climbed into my car and started the engine. Just as I was about to pull out into traffic, my phone rang. The number wasn’t familiar, and I almost ignored it. But using the Bluetooth system, I mashed a button and answered.

  “Hey Emily, it’s me, Liam. I just had a quick report for you on Paul Jensen.” He paused, giving a dramatic flair and I had to urge him to continue. “Okay, Paul’s an investment broker and he’s under investigation. While everything is in the early stages, there have been several complaints filed, each accusing him of convincing people to put money into his suggested investments and then he’s telling them the stock plummeted ... only paying pennies on the dollar. Authorities believe he’s skimming the money.”

  “Interesting,” I mused. “Molly recently moved six million dollars into her daughter’s name. She set it up where Paul doesn’t have access.”

  “Hmm. Thanks, I’ll pass that along.”

  “Let me know if you find out anything else.”

  “I’ll be glad to,” he agreed.

  My mind was focused on that five-thousand-dollar check Rhonda Payne cashed through the drive-thru. It had been a personal check from Paul. At the time, I thought it was odd that the notation on the check’s memo was listed as “From Gregory Mills.” But now, the check seemed even stranger.

  After a break in traffic, I turned left and made it to the first red light before having to stop. Still deep in thought about Rhonda’s check, the trill on my phone shook me back to the present. Thinking Liam was calling me back with more information, I glanced at caller ID to see if it was the same number he’d just called on. When Greg’s name flashed across the screen, it startled me to the point I jumped out of my skin. Checking again and seeing the same result, I thought I had lost my mind. How could it be that Greg was calling me? Unable to bring myself to answer, I waited for the phone to cease its endless ringing. A second later, the pinging sound from a left voice mail crashed into my ears.

  Fear and confusion kept me in a holding pattern and when the light turned green, the car behind me blasted his horn. Shaking like a leaf, I quickly pulled into the nearest parking lot. Trembling hands tried desperately to open the message to listen to the recording. But before I managed, a text message landed on my screen. When I focused in on the sender, I noted it, too, was from Greg. My heart raced at the speed of light and in a surge of panic the phone dropped from my grasp. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

  Then I realized the police must be calling and sending me a text. They must’ve located Greg’s phone after all. Maybe it was in the bedsheets. Or it was in the glove box of the car. Fear gripped me like no other, imagining they were wanting another chat with me, this time to arrest me for murdering my husband. I knew they already suspected me. No doubt once they discovered the phone, they went through his list of favorites or his text messages and spliced together something incriminating. I searched my brain, trying to remember the last text conversation we had. Was I mad at him for working late? No, I thought it was about meeting at that French restaurant ... and then we had the fight to beat all hell.

  My heart pounded and my breath came in spurts as a voice mail registered, along with a notification for receiving a text. My guts wrenched into a tight ball as second notifications signaled at sonic-boom level, screaming for immediate attention. Checking the text first, it simply read:

  We need to talk. Where are you?

  The police must be wanting a second interview. To verify my assumption, I listened to the voice message, expecting to hear someone identifying themselves as being with the local police department. Steeling myself, I waited for the playback.

  Emily, where are you? Have you left me? Please, we need to talk.

  Thank goodness I had pulled over. Otherwise, I would’ve crashed my car. This was too much. It sounded like Greg’s voice. But it couldn’t be. Hitting the callback button, I waited for the disappointment of a non-existent Greg on the other end, or some sicko impersonating him. It wasn’t Greg, I told myself, not allowing for any hope to enter my soul.

  “Emily, where are you?” Greg panted into the phone after one ring was barely completed. “Please don’t still be mad at me. I love you so much and I’ve been worried sick for three days.”

  “Greg, is this you?” I asked still unbelieving.

  “Well, of course it’s me.”

  “You’re alive?” I asked still doubting.

  “Yes, why wouldn’t I be? Unless
you’re planning on killing me for going to that seminar.” When I remained silent, he added, “Are you still mad at me?”

  “You left for three days and never once called me,” I pointed out in a stern tone.

  Silence.

  “Greg, are you still there?”

  “Yes, but when I left, you were extremely mad at me. I wasn’t about to call you and get an earful of your anger. I thought you should be the one to call me. I was giving you time to realize you overreacted and a chance to cool down. Every day I expected to hear from you. And now I’m back and you’re not here. So, are you still mad, or what?”

  “I’m not mad. I’m not mad at all. In fact, I’m the happiest person on the face of this planet and I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Then come home,” he urged. “Where are you?”

  “Mama has Ava, and I was taking Chinese—”

  “Then get Ava and come home. I can’t wait to see my two favorite girls in the whole world.”

  ◆◆◆

  Pressing the speed limits, I couldn’t get to my mother’s fast enough. “Greg’s alive. Greg’s alive,” I shouted the second I walked through the door. “We have to get home. I have to see him for real.”

  “What? How can that be?” My mother asked astonishingly.

  “Daddy’s alive?” Ava asked in a stunned voice. “But you said—”

  “I don’t know any details. But I received a voice mail and a text from Greg. And he answered when I called him back. I just want to get home.”

  My mother decided the reunion should be between me, Greg and Ava. “Just go,” she urged. “Tell me about it later.”

  “Your food, it’s in the car.”

  “Emily, leave. Go home.” My mother shooed me with her hand. “I’ll manage just fine and if Greg hasn’t eaten, it will feed all of you.”

  “I love you Momma,” I told her. With a swift kiss to her check, Ava and I were in the car.

  We both bounced in our seats as I pulled into traffic. “Do you think it’s really Daddy?” Ava asked.

  “I think it is,” I said, hoping beyond all hope.

  “I hope it is,” she squeaked.

  “Me too,” I uttered excitedly.

  “If it is, I’m going to forgive him for everything bad I ever thought about him.”

  “Me too,” I agreed. I really was. If Greg and I had a second chance, I wasn’t squandering it.

  All the way home I was on the edge of my seat, scared to death it wasn’t going to be Greg. My mind played tricks on me to the point I had convinced myself of imagining the whole conversation. When I raised the garage door and drove inside, my heart plummeted. Greg’s car wasn’t there. But then, of course his car wasn’t there. The police had taken it in for forensic testing. How did Greg get home then? Had I imagined Greg calling me?

  “Daddy’s not here,” Ava said staring at the blank spot where Greg’s tan Toyota Camry should be.

  “Let’s go inside and see,” I said, taking in a deep breath. God, please, I prayed, don’t let this be a joke, or my warped mind getting the best of me. If so, I could only imagine how devastated Ava would be and how would I ever explain losing my mind to her?

  Grabbing my purse and the dinners, I cautiously approached through the garage entrance. Ava and I both only dared to poke our heads in the door, mine above hers as we tentatively listened. The TV was on and normally this would be a good sign. But right now, it seemed like an eerie noise coming from another room, even down to ominous suspense music.

  “I can’t look,” Ava said with a frightened expression on her face.

  “Let me go first,” I urged. My steps were light as I crept the way down the short hallway, past the utility room and into the kitchen. Placing the Chinese takeout and my purse on the island, I eased my way into the dining room and then down another short hallway to the living room. Holding my breath, I anxiously peered around the corner and looked inside, half expecting to see nothing, half expecting to see Greg. Ava was clutching my hand and standing behind my back, both of us frightened out of our minds.

  “Is it Daddy?” she whispered so low I barely heard her.

  “It is,” I screamed, startling Greg to the point he dropped the remote and stared at us. “It’s Daddy.”

  Ava shoved me aside with a force not to be reckoned with and ran hard and fast to Greg. He stood from the couch at the sight of her and smiled a mile wide. “There’s my baby girl.”

  “Daddy!” Ava squealed and launched herself into Greg’s arms.

  He scooped her up in the air and swung her around before pulling her close to him. “I missed you so much.”

  As for me, my feet were cemented in place. I simply couldn’t believe my eyes. Greg was alive. Alive! Tears streamed down my face and my heart threatened to burst from my chest. Mesmerized by his presence, the moment hung suspended in time.

  “Honey?” Greg questioned wondering why I wasn’t greeting him with the same zealousness as Ava.

  Then I burst into a giant smile and plunged in his direction. Greg captured me on one side while he held Ava on the other. My face was buried into his chest next to Ava. “Greg. I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe it.” Tears fell down my face and drenched his shirt as I clung to him. I broke out of his hold long enough to examine that he was real. ‘I can’t believe it,” I repeated when he was still in front of me. ‘I’m so glad to see you and I love you so much,” I said breathlessly and then thrust myself back into his arms, feeling his strong grasp tighten on me. “Don’t ever leave us again ... ever.”

  “Now wait a minute ... if I can get this kind of greeting every time I go out of town, then I’m going to do it on a regular basis.”

  “Daddy, I missed you so much. I thought I’d never see you again. I can’t believe you’re here. You’re actually here,” Ava wailed, looking at her dad through teary eyes.

  When he pulled back to get a good look at us and saw how hard we were both crying, his expression changed to worry. “It was only for a few days. Is something wrong?”

  “No, not now, not anymore,” I quickly answered.

  “Good then. I’m glad I was missed. Maybe you’ll both appreciate me more,” he said with a light chuckle.

  “You have no idea,” I said in a serious voice, giving him a peck on the cheek.

  He slid Ava to the floor. “Daddy has a surprise for you.”

  “What? What is it?” she demanded immediately.

  Greg walked to the entry closet and stood in front of the door. “Close your eyes,” Greg taunted. “Or it won’t be a surprise.”

  “What is it?” Ava jumped all around, her excitement completely overwhelming. Instead of closing her eyes, she was bouncing up and down at Greg’s side.

  “Ava, you’re not getting it unless you close your eyes.”

  Ava sighed dramatically. “Daaad,” she groaned, closing her eyes and placing her hands over them.

  “Okay, here you go.” He reached in the closet and pulled out a gift bag, the exterior paper imprinted with dice, cards, slot machines, and the numeral seven throughout the design.

  “Ohhh,” she said getting overly excited as she ripped the blue and white tissue paper from the bag and tossed it to the floor. “I love it,” she shrieked at the top of her lungs, pulling out a giant pair of fuzzy dice in a colorful orange with the numbered dots being a brilliant yellow. “Dad, thank you so much.” Ava’s smile beamed across her face and lit up the room. She hugged Greg, wrapping her arms around his middle. “I really love it and it’ll go perfect in my new room.”

  Greg turned to me and grinned. “Of course, I didn’t forget my lovely wife.”

  He handed me a second sack which I unwrapped to discover a box of chocolates resembling poker chips. “Thank you, I appreciate it very much, but my gift is standing right in front of me.” I gave him a grateful kiss and hugged him tightly. “I’ve never been happier to see you in my whole life.”

  “Thank goodness,” he said. “Because, you know ... wh
en I left.”

  “Yes, I overreacted. But we’ll talk about it later,” I suggested tilting my head at Ava. Mine and Greg’s conversation would include infidelity, pedophilia and murder. None of which were appropriate topics for Ava’s tender ears.

  He nodded in understanding. “Is that food I smell?” he asked sticking his nose up and sniffing the air. “I’m famished.”

  Sitting down to dinner, we each shifted back to what had been our normal homelife. I had a thousand questions for Greg and could tell he had a few of his own. But for now, Ava needed family time with her father. When she was tucked away in bed and out of earshot, Greg and I would talk about my unfounded suspicions of infidelity and who was really murdered in that room. And then we’d talk about Paul Jensen and what that scumbag did to our daughter.

  ◆◆◆

  “Goodnight sweetheart,” we told Ava as we tucked her in bed together. I had begun to think Ava was never going to tire. Realizing her father was alive, her adrenaline had gone into hyper-mode. After dinner, she wanted to play crazy eights, watch a movie together and even insisted on Greg reading her a bedtime story, which she hadn’t wanted in probably two years. While Greg was shocked at her clinginess, I understood it all too well and could hardly wait for it to be my turn with him. Finally, we were downstairs together at the kitchen table.

  “I’m truly sorry for the way I reacted the night you told me about the seminar,” I began.

  “I tried to tell you, but you weren’t in a listening mood,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so upset with me. Honestly, when I arrived home and found the house empty, I thought you’d left me.”

  Swallowing hard, I began. “My anger was based on believing Taylor was a female and that you were flaunting an affair in front of me.”

  His brows became one. “Whatever gave you the idea Taylor was a woman. I’ve always referred to him, as a him.”

  “That night when you picked up that file and Taylor’s wife walked you to the door, I thought she was Taylor.”

  He rolled his whole head. “Chris simply wanted to meet you, but we thought you looked asleep, and she didn’t want to wake you.” He processed the information for a moment. “My God, Emily, did you really think I was staying in the same room with a female at that seminar?”