The Hotel

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “Have you eaten?” I asked since Ava and I had already had our dinner.

  “Yes, Roger ordered a pizza, and I had a couple of beers.”

  “Come in the living room for a moment,” I said. “I have something odd to show you.” I glanced at Ava. “Honey you keep putting the greens together. We’ll be right back.” Once we were standing over the box, I said, “Earlier today I reached out to Molly. She hoped I rotted in hell. Then a few hours later she came by and apologized, leaving this and saying Paul would want you to have it.”

  Greg rummaged through the box. “Heck yeah, I’ll take it. With the watch and money clip, it’ll just about cover the money Paul swindled. And this is a top-notch racquet.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange though? One minute she was jumping down my throat and the next she’s bearing gifts?”

  He shrugged. “When you thought it was my dead body in that hotel room, how would you have treated Molly if you thought she killed me? And let’s not forget, she has the Feds crawling down her throat. Her life is a living hell right now. Let’s just believe she was apologizing for her behavior and this was a peace offering.”

  “I suppose so,” I conceded. “So, what was Roger’s story?”

  “Hey guys, come help me,” Ava pleaded from the dining room. “I’ll never get this finished by myself.”

  “Let’s go help the munchkin,” Greg suggested. On the way, he told me, “Roger’s story matched Little Roger’s and there wasn’t anything added, except he said there wasn’t any transfer of funds because no one could complete the contract.”

  In other words, Paul was dead before he could make it to the bank to pay the hush money to Roger and Darlene.

  I frowned. “What about Darlene? What did she have to say?”

  “She wasn’t there. Roger claimed she’d taken the brood over to her mother’s house.”

  My frown lingered. One of them knew something. If it wasn’t Roger, then it was Darlene. And since she worked at that shoddy motel, my bet was on her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  (Tuesday)

  Today was my day at the bank and I had to force myself into work. Everyone would be looking at me, knowing that I’d been charged with murdering Paul Jensen. If I hadn’t needed the money so badly, I would’ve called in sick. Then again, I’d probably already used up my favors with Jordan and President Jenkins.

  Sure enough, Dianne and Bailey both glared at me when I walked in, causing an uncomfortableness to spread throughout my nervous system. Both nodded and I said hello and that was it. The morning crawled by. My mind was distracted by my pending charges, the real murder weapon and the real killer. Taking in deposits, cashing checks and answering customer questions was an annoyance.

  Around noon, Mr. Jenkins called me aside and I thought for sure he was going to fire me. “Emily, have a seat.” I braced myself as I drooped into one of two burgundy, faux leather chairs in front of his big oak desk. He rolled his chair forward and looked at me with pale blue eyes. “No one around here believes for one minute that you killed Paul Jensen. I’m sure the police will figure this out and your good name will be cleared. I wanted you to know, this is your second family and we’re all behind you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jenkins,” I said humbly, so embarrassed I was barely able to make eye contact with him.

  “You have friends here. We’re all willing to help you through this.”

  “Thank you again.” Tears welled in my eyes and I couldn’t keep from jumping up, rounding his desk and hugging him.

  “Well, okay then,” he said, peeling me off. “I’m going to lunch.”

  “Thank you again, Mr. Jenkins,” I said as he scooted awkwardly past me and hurried for the door. While Mr. Jenkins was a comradery boss, he wasn’t the huggy-cuddly type. He paused at the doorway. “Well okay then. I’m glad that’s settled.” Then surprising the heck out of me, he pulled me into a hug and told me everything would be perfectly fine.

  As he headed out to his favorite diner a couple blocks down the street, I checked the time and realized it was my lunch turn. After making sure Diane and Bailey had things under control, I went into the breakroom and pulled out my ham and cheese sandwich and a bag of chips.

  A few moments later, Dianne poked her head in the room. “Guess what?” she whispered, edging up close to me and glancing back to make sure no one was following behind her.

  “What?” I asked, readying myself for office gossip that hopefully wasn’t about me, but in all probability was.

  “Look, to start with, I know you didn’t kill Paul Jensen. You’re not that type of person.”

  “Thank you,” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich. “I really appreciate that. And you’re right, I didn’t kill him.”

  “Of course, you didn’t,” she said firmly. “I wanted to tell you about Rhonda Payne. She came in the bank yesterday. She’d heard about what happened to Paul ... you know, in that motel. She said it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving asshole. She didn’t have a single good word to say about him. She went on and on about how he conned her and her husband into plunking money into his investment business and then Paul claimed it went belly-up. She’d been following her investments and didn’t buy that the company suddenly tanked. When she confronted Paul about it, he told her that her investments were in a subsidiary company and that’s the one that shutdown. She didn’t like that answer either, so she threatened to have him investigated by a cousin of hers who works for the Feds. She said Paul suddenly became nervous and offered to pay her back on some of her losses through his personal funds. She said he pulled out a logbook, looked down a list of names and then started writing her out a check. During this time, he received a phone call and, to keep her from overhearing, he nonchalantly walked across the room as if only to look out a window and then he talked in a low voice. While he was distracted, she read where he made a little side note on the logbook and noticed that the amount of the check that he was writing to her corresponded to an investment made by Gregory Mills. In other words, he was robbing Peter to pay Paul.” She stopped and giggled because Paul’s name was Paul in this instance. “Anyway, she wrote Greg’s name on the memo and then cashed it through this bank because Paul’s account was here, and she wanted to make sure it was a good check. But, until she came through the drive-thru, she’d forgotten you worked here. She said she got all nervous about having put Greg’s name on that memo and wanted to drive off.”

  “I remember wondering why Greg’s name was on the memo. Greg had invested with Paul in the hopes of a big return on the money. Instead, Paul told Greg the company went bust.”

  “Oh, I see,” Dianne said and fell quiet for a moment.

  “It wasn’t enough to kill Paul over,” I said, wondering if she suddenly thought I had a reason to kill Paul. Of course, she didn’t know about Paul’s bathroom encounter with Ava.

  “Oh no, I wasn’t thinking that. It’s just shocking that someone we all thought was so successful was really just stealing everyone else’s hard-earned money.”

  “I didn’t know about the investment until after Paul was killed,” I added.

  “I’m not suspecting you,” she assured me. “But, back to Rhonda. She spoke with her cousin and he told her the FBI and the SEC had received several complaints and they were already on a witch hunt and that it was just a matter of time before Paul went down.” She paused for a moment. “As soon as they realized something looked fishy, they froze all of his bank accounts until they could put a trace on everything.”

  “Oh wow,” I said. “Looks like Molly’s the one who’s going to have to pay the price, especially if they seize her house, expensive jewelry, fine furnishings and her bank accounts.” In the back of my mind, I thought about that account she had recently established for Sarah. I wondered if the authorities knew about it.

  Dianne took her lunch as soon as I was finished with mine. When Bailey took a quick restroom break, while I had the chance, I couldn’t keep from looking at
Molly’s account. My eyes bugged out of my head when I noticed Sarah’s six-million-dollar account had been closed and the funds had all been transferred to a bank in the Caymans ... all but one million dollars, which had been transferred to a different institution to be deposited into Darlene Blanton’s name.

  How could that be? Roger confronted Paul in the middle of the night about being with his minor daughter. Paul was dead before the banks opened. How could Molly have possibly known to complete the transaction? Besides, why bother? Paul was dead. She’d already found out about Felicia Winslow and I’d already filed a report about Ava and the bathtub incident. Paul was going to be labeled a pedophile. The FBI and SEC were already breathing down his neck. What would her incentive have been to transfer the money?

  ◆◆◆

  As I was leaving work, I took my phone off mute and noticed that P.I. Marshall had left me several messages. After returning his call, he answered, “Emily, the police had a warrant, and they searched your house today.”

  “What! Without me knowing?” Of course, they didn’t have to let me know. But even so, I felt violated to find out they’d scoured through my personal things without my knowledge.

  “They had the warrant yesterday and purposely waited until they knew you’d be at work to conduct it.”

  I sighed. “Well, I didn’t have anything to hide.”

  “Well, they think you do.” He sighed through the phone lines. “They found something. Possibly the murder weapon. They think you took it from your house and used it to kill Paul. Then you tried to throw them off by putting the tire iron under the bed. They think you cleaned up the real murder weapon and put it back in its place.”

  “What are you talking about? What did they find?” I asked, completely bewildered.

  “They wouldn’t tell me. But I know they’re going to add the charge of premeditated murder.”

  “My God,” I gasped.

  “Yeah, I know,” P.I. Marshall agreed. “We need to figure this out fast because of a potential bond increase. Even if you’re innocent, notoriety can ruin a person’s good reputation.” He sighed. “I spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Winslow. They had their suspicions about Paul and their daughter, but neither bothered to delve into the situation. Unfortunately, they came across as rich elites who’d rather be out spending money, as opposed to keeping watch on their offspring. It was like Felicia said, they didn’t seem to be able to find the time for her.”

  “How sad,” I noted. “Do you think they were telling the truth? What about the golf club?”

  “They claimed to be out of town the night of the murder. I’ll do some research to make sure their alibi checks out, but it doesn’t look like they had anything to do with Paul’s murder.” He paused. “Of course, I’ve been hoodwinked before. Still, there wasn’t anything to suggest either found out about Paul and Felicia's relationship that would’ve prompted them to take matters into their own hands.”

  “Well thank you for trying.” After telling him what I’d found out about Rhonda Payne, I informed him about Molly transferring Sarah’s account to the Cayman’s, except for the million dollars to Darlene Blanton. “I’m on my way to Darlene’s house. I’m going to make her talk to me.”

  “Emily, you can never tell about people. Darlene may have rethought her rolling-in-the-dough plan. She may have used her own hotel key, gone into that room and killed Paul because he was having sex with her minor daughter. It could be dangerous. You shouldn’t go there alone,” he warned. “Let me come with you.”

  “No, I’ll call Greg and have him accompany me. She’ll be more willing to talk to him, than you or me.”

  “Okay. But keep me informed. In the meantime, I’ll alert the authorities about the fund transfers.”

  ◆◆◆

  Because the police department still had Greg’s car and my mother needed hers back, he had Ubered to work this morning. After calling him to let him know my plan, I swung by the DA’s office and picked him up. Momma agreed to keep Ava, having already picked her up from school since it was my workday. Bless her heart. I was going to owe her big time when all of this was over, assuming I wasn’t in jail, of course.

  Parked in my car and down the street from Roger and Darlene’s, Greg called Roger. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you for talking to me yesterday. I appreciate you being open and honest.”

  “Anytime buddy,” Roger replied. “It was good to sit around guy-to-guy chomping a pizza and chugging some beers.”

  “Listen, Emily’s not satisfied that I didn’t talk to Darlene, too. Can I swing by and chat with her ... you know, just to get Emily off my back?”

  I frowned at Greg, wondering if this was the way he carried on when I wasn’t around. He grinned at me and mouthed I love you.

  “Well, she ain’t here right now. It’d be a waste of your time to drive all the way over here.”

  “Well, I’ll swing by anyway. Maybe she’ll be home by the time I get across town. I’ll be there in a few.” Then Greg hung up and we waited.

  Sure enough, moments later their front door thrust open, and a frantic Darlene appeared, practically running to her car. Greg cranked the car and pulled up behind her to block her exit.

  “Oh good, you are here,” I shouted out my rolled-down window.

  “I was just leaving,” she said. “I’m running super late. Please pull forward so I can get out of my driveway.”

  Greg climbed out of his car. “We need to talk Darlene. Either we can talk here, or I’ll have you brought down to the police station.”

  At once, Darlene started crying. Roger came out. “What’s wrong, honey?” he asked, going to her and pulling her to his chest.

  “I did something terrible,” she wailed. “Please forgive me,” she begged of him.

  “Honey, what did you do?”

  “Let’s go inside,” Greg suggested.

  Back at their dining table, we listened to Darlene spilling out what else went on. And when she was finished, I sat stunned into silence and Greg’s mouth was hanging open.

  “I didn’t know anything about this part,” Roger said, looking at Darlene with a bewildered look. “Darlene, you didn’t say anything to me.”

  Darlene shrugged. “It was either going to be a backup plan, or a way to double our take. I had to go for it.”

  Roger nodded and moved his thoughts forward. “Will we get to keep the money?” he asked recovering quickly.

  “You mean blackmail money?” Greg pointed out, putting it into perspective. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “We’ll split it with you, if you’ll keep your mouth shut,” Roger offered.

  Greg shook his head. “I have to keep Emily out of jail. Surely you understand that.”

  ‘So that’s it then? You’re just going to open up this whole can of worms?” Darlene asked.

  ‘Yes, Darlene, I’m afraid so.”

  ◆◆◆

  As soon as we left Roger and Darlene’s, we called P.I. Marshall and told him everything Darlene said.

  “Holy shit!” he exclaimed.

  “I know,” I agreed. “We’re on our way over there right now.”

  “No, there’s no reason for you to go. Let me get in touch with the detectives and we’ll get an arrest warrant issued.”

  “That takes time,” Greg reasoned. “Darlene could call and let her know she’s spilled the beans. She might try to escape. We can be there in a matter of minutes.”

  “Fine, I’ll meet you there and we can stall until the police arrive.”

  “Sounds good,” Greg agreed.

  Across town in the glitzy neighborhood, where everyone had everything, we spoke with the guard and told him we needed entry. He was kind enough to let us proceed forward without alerting the homeowner. However, there was the final gate that needed to be opened. After Greg mashed the intercom button, we waited for a response.

  “Molly, it’s me, Greg. I wanted to thank you personally for the items you left from Paul. Can I come in?”

 
A moment later, the gates parted.

  “Okay,” I said hesitantly, glancing at Greg.

  “Here goes nothing,” he said, pulling down the driveway and turning into the circular entrance.

  Before we were out of the car, Molly opened her front door and stepped outside. “It really wasn’t necessary for you two to come all the way over here to thank me. Paul would’ve wanted you to have that stuff.” She looked at Greg and sighed. “I’ve already apologized to Emily for accusing her of ... well, isn’t it just awful what happened to Paul? Can you believe it?”

  “Yes, it’s terrible,” Greg consoled. “Who would’ve done such a thing?”

  “I have no idea. But after I’ve had time to fully process what happened, I know it just couldn’t have been Emily. Not sweet little Emily.” She frowned at me, giving her best sad face.

  Clearly Darlene had not forewarned Molly.

  Still standing in the Jensen’s driveway, I turned to face her. “A funny thing happened at the bank yesterday.”

  “Oh, what was that?”

  “Rhonda Payne came in and complained about Paul trying to swindle some money from her and her husband. It seems Paul paid her back by giving her Greg’s money. Then Paul told Greg his money went south.”

  “Yes, yes, we all know that Paul was scamming money. The Feds are all over it. Sorry, Greg. I didn’t know. That’s why I gave you that box. Some of those items are worth quite a bit of money. I’m trying to make things right by you.”

  “Thank you,” Greg said. “For that I am appreciative.”

  “But Molly,” I continued, “I think you did know about Paul’s scam. The bank records show you transferred a large amount of your holdings into an account for Sarah and then subsequently transferred the funds to the Caymans ... all but a million to Darlene Blanton.” I paused and waited for her reaction. “Did you really think you weren’t leaving a paper trail?”