Chapter 7
I had originally expected to have Maude’s help in delivering the votive candles to each guest’s room, but we were all pitching in today with the Duffys’ absence. Frank had kindly found a cart for me that would allow me to load up my candles and deliver them to all one hundred rooms in one trip. As I rolled the cart to a service elevator off the kitchen, however, I realized that without Maude I had no keys to enter the rooms. I headed out to the lobby to see if Frank could help me out.
In one motion, he handed me a master passkey from a cubby under the reception desk as he picked up a ringing phone. Frank was doing a good job keeping things together. Down two staff members this morning, the concierge looked a little haggard, but I had faith that the Melville would be good to go.
The passkey was attached to a ring that included a couple of larger, old-fashioned keys as well. I knew at least one of them was for our storage room, which was part of the original house that had not been fully upgraded. It took all of one second, but holding the batch of keys in my hand, I decided to visit all of the Sterling-Handler rooms while I had the opportunity to enter them. My cart was waiting for me when I returned, and I took the elevator up to the third floor. Arriving at the inn’s top floor, I headed down the hallway, stopping in each room, one by one. At the end of the hallway, I paused in front of the suite in which Jessica was staying. Her door was right next to that of her mother’s.
I pushed the cart down the hallway, then knocked on Jessica’s door, to be safe. When there was no answer, I unlocked the door and crept inside.
Poor Maude. She must have left before she had tidied the room this morning. It was a mess. Clothes on a chair, bed unmade. Thinking of Maude and Bill upset me, and I looked out of the bedroom window to calm myself. I walked closer and opened the window a smidge to let in a sea breeze from the harbor. The wind, however, caught some papers on an old desk and blew them to the floor. Quickly, I closed the window and gathered the papers.
As I put them back on the desk, something caught my eye. It was a black-and-white photo of a field. On closer inspection, I realized that the trees in the image were in perfect lines, too perfect to be natural, and I decided it was of some sort of farm. I opened a folder that was also on the desk.
I’m no real estate expert, but I could see that Jessica Sterling had brought a mountain of paperwork that looked a lot like the papers I’d heard described of her father’s last deal, his failed attempt to sell his olive groves in Italy. I wondered if perhaps Jessica’s invitation to Simon to walk her down the aisle had been motivated by her desire to finish the deal. I did have to wonder who would get Simon’s share in the land now that he was dead.
My mind was racing in all directions when I heard footsteps in the hallway and a key in the room’s lock. I closed the folder, and ran to the closet so Jessica would at least find me studying her wedding dress rather than snooping through her private papers. I actually did want a look at Jessica’s dress. I had pictures of it that I used to decorate the original unity candle, but I really wanted to make the new unity candles stand out. If there was a certain kind of bead or applique I had missed in the photos, I wanted the opportunity to copy it.
Two steps away from the closet, I realized that finding me admiring her dress was just as odd. Worse, Jessica might decide it was a bad omen, and Emily would be furious. I was wondering if I could fit under the bed in the time that it took to open a door when the key stopped.
“I need my sweater,” Jessica said to someone.
I made a desperate dash toward the curtains, as if the old movie gimmick stood a chance.
“Take my blue one,” said her mother, her voice coming from the threshold of her door. “It’s better for the weather.”
With that, I heard Jessica walk to her mother’s room. I realized, too, that the living quarters connected through interior doors. I hoped that the women had not unlocked these doors in order to enter in and out of each other’s rooms.
Creeping back across the room, I tidied the papers.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Mom,” I heard Jessica say through the closed door. “Your lack of faith in me is hurtful. I’ve got everything covered.”
“You can never be too careful,” said her mother.
“We went over this yesterday,” said Jessica. “We don’t need to again.”
I was dying to know what “this” was, but a floorboard under me squeaked as I took a step back. The women stopped talking. I could not be sure if it was because they had heard me, but I didn’t wait. I tiptoed across the room and out of Jessica’s front door as quickly as Tinker had fled Simon’s room this morning.
Out in the hall, I ran back to my cart. Relieved that Jessica and her mom had not caught me, I resumed my walk back down the hallway to the elevator, disappointed by the fact that I had not been able to enter Mrs. Sterling’s room. Overall, however, I was impressed with myself as I headed downstairs. My first bit of sleuthing had yielded a couple of results. For one, Jessica had been actively thinking about the land deal. Number two, Jessica and her mother were stressed. Given the morning that had passed and the wedding ahead their emotions were understandable, but I wondered what I should make of their words.
I realized that there were secrets in the Melville. Figuring out which ones were important might lead me to Simon’s killer.
When the service elevator opened on the second floor, the first thing I saw was yellow tape over Simon Sterling’s room. I made a mental note to tell Emily. There was no way we were going to have guests focusing on the fact that they were sleeping near a murdered man’s room. Next to Simon’s room was Joe’s. I had not remembered that the two men’s rooms were side by side. I slipped the passkey into Joe’s lock and entered.
Similar to Jessica’s room, the groom’s bed was unmade. His suitcase lay half open. I peeked into Joe’s trash bin. There was a tag for a new pair of socks from H&M, which I thought was a good call on his part after having seen his holey attire this morning. I also spied a note that said: Let’s meet after dinner in the Game Room? I wondered who had written it—Simon or Tony?—and if it mattered to the murder.
On the desk, I noticed the usual stuff one would expect to see from a groom. There was a passport, cufflinks, a lightly scented pink scarf that Jessica had probably given him to think of her before bed. There was a note from a jeweler with a valuation of the ring that was so expensive I can’t even repeat it . . . but there were five zeros after the number two. In my life, I never knew a piece of jewelry could be worth so much. There was no yellow tape in front of the interior door connecting Joe’s room to Simon’s. It was like an open invitation to enter Simon’s room. I slipped the key into the connecting door.
Nothing had changed much since I’d been in Simon’s room earlier. The bed was still made, Simon’s suitcase was meticulously unpacked. There was only one can of cat food that I could see. I made a note of the brand so I could pick some up for Tinker. The only thing out of place was an open desk drawer.
Inside, I saw a passport. I really wanted to open it, but I was afraid of fingerprints. Beside the passport was a bag of tobacco, next to which was a set of cufflinks, a comb, some red ribbon neatly rolled, and a small bottle of hair gel in one of those 2.5ml travel bottles. I knew it was hair gel because of a handwritten sticker across it that advertised it as such. I quickly returned to Joe’s room to look at the handwritten invitation to poker. The handwriting was one and the same. Simon had evidently been the one to think of playing cards last night. I thought about Mrs. Sterling’s comments about Simon and his penchant for messing with people. Her description fit with Joe’s, Tony’s, and Bill’s feeling that the game had not been played fairly. I could see how Tony or Joe might have ended up in an altercation with Simon, but not Bill. Bill had had no skin in the game. He had just been pouring drinks. Yet for some reason, Bill had taken twenty-five hundred dollars from Simon, and had punched him, while mysteriously abandoning his responsibility to take care of the candle.
I noticed that the gift box with my votive candle was shut, but I could tell from the aroma that Simon had at least peeked inside. Silly, but I hoped he’d liked my work.
Deciding that there was nothing else to see, I left his room through Joe’s door and delivered the rest of my candles to the other rooms. Tony Carlson’s room was the last door at the end of the hallway. I had just reached it when I got a text from Emily to meet her.
Big news, her text said.
I wavered at Tony’s door. If something related to the case had been uncovered, I wanted to find out right away. The more information I had, the easier it would be for me to know what I was looking for. I headed downstairs with my empty cart, and parked it in front of our staging room. Inside, I saw Emily’s feet propped against a table.
“Hello!” I said, leaving the cart outside the room. “All done. What’s up?”
“I’ve got good stuff,” said Emily from a chair. “Oh, look at my swollen feet. I’ve barely been working three hours. I don’t know how I’m going to do the Litskys’ wedding next month.”
“I’ll help. What’s your good stuff?”
“Gina Ginelli,” said Emily with full-on jazz hands.
I sat on the edge of the table, wishing I had poked around Tony’s room.
“I saw her,” said Emily. “In the lobby.”
“Why was she here?” I said.
“I don’t know,” she said. “She poked her head in, smiled when I started to wave, and then left. I didn’t get to take a picture. I want a picture!”
I looked at Emily’s tired feet.
“I heard she’s staying down the beach path,” I said. “Are you up for it?”
“Are you kidding?” she said and looked at me like I was a fool to think otherwise.
“That’s why I love you,” I said. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I broke into a lot of rooms.” I shared my discoveries to Emily, room by room.
“I hope no one saw you,” she said after I’d ended with my visit to Simon’s room. “What if there really is a murderer hanging around the Melville, and he saw you? I mean, you could be in danger.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I said. “I was just putting my candles in the rooms, as directed.”
Emily opened her mouth to disagree, but she didn’t have to. Proving her point, the door to our room slammed shut, followed by the sound of the lock turning.