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“STRANGE, ISN’T IT, that Benny hasn’t shown up for work this morning?” Frederick noted. “He’s an odd one, but he seems to care about his job. Looks suspicious if you ask me.”
“I thought you two were convinced Charlotte the maid is behind all this,” Vera retorted with a derisive huff. “She was also supposed to be here, and I don’t see her anywhere.”
Desmond cleared his throat loudly. “Actually, she came in through the back door while you two were busy watching Mr. Wright egg on the surly man who checked out. Perhaps if your attention hadn’t been focused on the wrong suspect, you would have seen her.”
Rosemary stared at him with wide eyes. His tone was harsher than any he’d used with her previously, and she suspected the reason had something to do with Max’s arrival in Cyprus.
“She appeared in quite some distress, actually,” Frederick said smugly. “But we never said we thought she was in it alone. Benny is missing, is he not?”
“You’re telling me you believe Charlotte and Benny are the masterminds behind Cecily’s death and Gloria’s assault?” Rosemary balked, but the lighter in her pocket might be proof that Frederick was right. “Charlotte can’t find a towel in a cupboard full of them, and Benny is practically a child.”
“A child in a very large man’s body. She’d need some muscle to pull this off. Benny could be the perfect tool.”
“Well, I don’t believe it. We found no record of violence in Benny’s file. He seemed to have genuine feelings for Cecily, and he has never even raised his voice in our presence. He’s a gentle soul,” Rosemary insisted.
“Where is he, then?” Desmond retorted.
Vera had watched the exchange between them, could feel the tension rising along with the temperature outside as the sun inched higher in the sky. “Why don’t we just go and find out?” She spat out the challenge without much thought.
Rosemary stood, crossed her arms, and stared Desmond down. “Why don’t we, then?” he retorted.
She turned and marched out the front door of the hotel. Gloria had mentioned that the staff lodging was located on the north side of the beach, so she took a sharp turn and headed in that direction.
“Wait, Rosie. What’s the plan?” Vera asked, speeding her steps to keep up with the pumping of Rosemary’s long legs.
Rosemary flapped her arms in frustration. “We find him, we ask him,” she said. “And then we lay this whole pile of nonsense to rest.”
“Do you think coming right out and asking him if he killed someone is the best way to go about this?” Vera asked with more excitement than trepidation in her voice, despite the question.
Rosemary sidestepped a large rock that had so far been spared the wrath of the sea, had yet to be ground into grit and become part of the beach itself.
“It’s worked well enough for us in the past, hasn’t it? I highly doubt Benny is going to murder us right there in his own quarters. I don’t for one second believe he’s capable of that kind of brutality. Besides, we have two bodyguards in case, for some reason, I’m wrong. When they’ll learn to trust me, I’ll never know.” The last part was muttered under her breath, but Vera caught the gist of it.
“Rosie, we have to be realistic,” Vera said. “Benny was scheduled to work this morning; he was supposed to arrive right around the time Gloria was attacked, but he never showed up. You can’t deny it looks bad for him. He could have come in, bopped her on the head, and then run.”
“I don’t see it,” Rosemary replied. “I simply don’t. I still think Richard Wright is our man. If only he would leave long enough for us to get into his room. He still has the most to gain.”
She couldn’t stop thinking about those threatening letters Cecily had received before she died. They weren’t Benny’s style of speech, nor did she think he had the means to own a typewriter.
What Vera felt was that Rosemary, as much as she might enjoy berating her brother, had one trait in common with him. Both were stubborn to a fault.
Frederick had spent all week focused on little Charlotte as his prime suspect and refused to see the evidence against anyone else. Rosemary was just as quick to defend Benny.
The difference was, now that Frederick had been presented with another option, he’d jumped ship faster than a rat with his tail on fire, while Rosemary wouldn’t be swayed until she had absolute proof.
Fickle Freddie couldn’t commit to a murder suspect any more than he could commit to one woman at a time. A flaw, to be certain, and one that Desmond seemed to share.
For now, the duo trailed behind the women while Frederick’s gaze surveyed the area in a protective gesture. As they approached the area near the staff quarters, the landscape changed from pristine white sand to that of a darker shade. More large rocks and boulders dotted the expanse of seaweed-strewn beach. This was part of the property no guest was supposed to lay eyes on, but the view of the mountains rising out of the sea was just as spectacular as it was from Rosemary’s balcony suite.
“Benny!” Rosemary called out as she approached the cluster of small cabins. Shrewdly, she cast an eye over each building and guessed which one was Benny’s based on the neat and methodical placement of stacked rocks along the walkway. They reminded her of the way Benny piled luggage on his cart.
“Go hide somewhere you can hear us, just in case,” Rosemary demanded of her brother and Desmond. “We’ll have better luck getting him to talk if we’re alone. Less intimidating.”
With the thought that he was to be considered intimidating, Frederick agreed, pulling Desmond into a thicket of bushes near an open window.
Someone was moving around behind the cabin door, and when she rapped on it, the noise abruptly turned to silence. Another rap elicited a brief flurry of movement, and the third an abbreviated oath.
“Who is it?” came Benny’s muffled, irritated voice.
“Benny, it’s Rosemary Lillywhite and Vera Blackburn. From the third floor. Can we talk with you a moment?”
“Off duty. Ask Gloria to hunt down the other porter,” he mumbled.
“We need to talk to you, Benny. It’s rather urgent,” Rosemary pressed. “Can we come inside?” She heard another thump and some shuffling before Benny finally opened the door.
“What do you want?” he asked unceremoniously but allowed them to step across the threshold. “Don’t have any tea or I’d offer you some.”
If Benny really was a murderous psychopath, he was certainly a polite one, though the way his eyes kept darting to the closed bedroom door made Rosemary somewhat uneasy.
“No, thank you,” she and Vera replied in unison.
Rosemary perched on the edge of a well-worn sofa while Vera chose a fluffy-looking chair. When she sat, her rear end sunk so far into the cushion it was unlikely she’d be able to get out without help.
“Why aren’t you at work, Benny?” Starting off with simple questions seemed like the best plan.
“It’s Stan’s first day back after the accident. He works the mornings, and I work the afternoons. Didn’t Miss DeVant—” He trailed off as he remembered Cecily was no longer in charge of the schedule. “Gloria knows.”
“Gloria was attacked this morning, and something of yours was found nearby.” She let the bald statement sink in, watched the realization dawn on Benny’s face, and prepared for him to become angry. “Did you hurt Gloria? Or Miss DeVant?”
When he only frowned, she felt herself release a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. This was not a murderer, and not for the first time, Rosemary vowed to listen to her intuition rather than the mutterings of gossip.
“Gloria was attacked?” Benny looked genuinely confused.
“I found this,” Rosemary said, holding out the brass lighter, “on the floor near the supply cupboard after Gloria was attacked. Then, she said you were supposed to come in for the morning shift, and when you didn’t arrive...well, it looks suspicious,” Rosemary said.
Benny sat down and put his head in his hands. “She must have forgot Stan was supposed to work today. I always show up for my shifts.” There was a long pause while his eyes clouded over. “I lost my lighter two days ago, and I’d never hurt Miss DeVant; she’s the one who gave that to me,” he finally said, swallowing heavily. “I wasn’t even up at the hotel that night. I was here, in my cabin.” His eyes flicked to the closed bedroom door again, and Rosemary’s narrowed on him.
“Tell the truth, Benny,” she said gently.
Vera reached over, gave Benny one of her million-watt smiles, and patted his arm, “Whatever your secret is, you can tell us.”
Benny’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed as though he’d been carrying the weight of the world on them. He walked to the bedroom door, opened it, and bent down. A tiny ball of fur catapulted from inside and into Benny’s arms. The little dog licked his face, which turned up into a smile so heartbreakingly innocent that Rosemary felt her worries melt.
“I’m not supposed to have him here. It’s against the rules.”
Rosemary exchanged a look with Vera, a sudden and disturbing thought occurring to her. “Did Miss DeVant find out about him?” Her voice was filled with trepidation now, and though he lacked certain mental capacities, Benny’s eyebrows quirked at her tone.
“Miss DeVant was also the one who found Alfie and gave him to me. You think I would have killed her over a dog?” It seemed to make him sad again, which in turn made Rosemary feel worse than if she’d kicked the puppy.
“Of course not, Benny,” she said, apologetic now.
Benny picked up the puppy and sat down with the wriggling little bundle in his lap. Alfie turned around twice and lay down, looking up at his companion with love in his canine eyes. It wasn’t hard to see why Cecily might have broken a hotel rule; Rosemary had never seen Benny happier, and she guessed he didn’t have much happiness in his life.
“She was walking one of the trails one day and found him. He was so small he could fit right in my hand. Must have been the runt and got left behind.” It was something Benny seemed to identify with, though how such a hulking man could have started out in life as a runt was difficult to imagine. “She brought him to me, and said as long as Alfie was quiet, I could keep him.”
“That sounds like something Cecily would do,” Rosemary agreed. She hadn’t known the woman long, but she had no doubt she was correct.
Benny looked straight into Rosemary’s eyes. “I was out walking Alfie when Miss DeVant was killed, but I wish I had been there. Maybe I could have helped her.”
“You were not to blame for what happened,” Vera said, continuing her role as the good cop in the scenario, but Benny didn’t seem content.
“Can you tell us where you went and who you saw?” Rosemary asked, grasping at straws for some tidbit of information that might help them move forward and figure out who really did kill Cecily.
His eyes on the dog, Benny took a moment to think. “I went where I always go. To a little spot along the beach where the boulders make a circle.” Rosemary knew exactly the spot he was referring to because it was the same one she and her friends had discovered their first afternoon at the hotel. The dog mess she’d noticed must have been Alfie’s. “We like to go late at night because then Alfie can run around and make noise without bothering anyone. I saw Charlotte pop out of her cabin when I was on my way back, but she went back inside and didn’t wave hello like she usually does.” Benny’s focus returned to Alfie, and it appeared the conversation was over.
“All right then. Thank you, Benny,” Rosemary said and turned to leave.
“I hope you figure out who killed Miss DeVant. If I can help in any way...” were Benny’s final words on the subject.
When Rosemary and Vera finally exited the cabin, Desmond and Frederick were waiting for them. They’d been listening through the window and already knew what had transpired, but that didn’t stop Rosemary from bragging. “See, I told you it wasn’t him.”
“You don’t know that for certain,” Frederick sulked. “He could have been lying.”
Rosemary rolled her eyes, “He’s not, and furthermore, it puts a kink in your theory that Charlotte is the murderer. She was in her cabin, just like she said she was.” With that, she turned her attention to what she considered a bigger problem. “What I can’t understand is what sort of violence Gloria was referring to.” Rosemary paused and thought back. “She said, ‘that Ben fellow was in a right state last night.’ And then Walter said something along the lines of ‘Could be he had another violent episode.’ I assumed the Ben fellow was Benny, but maybe I was wrong.”
“She could have meant Benjamin Marlowe!” Vera exclaimed, finishing Rosemary’s sentence.
“She certainly could have.”
Ignoring the idea of Benjamin Marlowe completely, Frederick muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath, and pulled Desmond ahead, leaving the women trailing behind. “We have some finer points to discuss,” he said as he sailed by, his nose stuck in the air. “See you later.”
