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Beverly Hills Hotel
Vivian pulled into the parking lot at the Beverly Hills Hotel, the ritzy pink stucco building that was surrounded by acres of beautiful gardens on Sunset Boulevard. She turned her car off and sat there, debating what to do.
The woman on the telephone didn’t give her any reason at all to think that the information she had pertained to George’s murder. She made that assumption all on her own since it was all she thought about these days. Yet, she couldn’t imagine what else would be so secretive that the woman insisted upon meeting in person.
Vivian snatched her handbag and got out of the car. After she walked across the parking lot, an elderly man in uniform greeted her and opened the front door for her. Inside the beautiful, spacious lobby, a handful of people were sitting on the sofa and others relaxed in the wingback chairs, reading the newspaper or waiting for their companions.
That’s when Vivian caught sight of Preston Stone and cursed under her breath. He was leaning over the front desk, flirting with the pretty redheaded clerk. She wanted to avoid him like the plague, and thankfully, the mysterious woman on the phone had given her the room number. So, she walked over to the far wall, making a wide half-circle around the front desk until she stood in front of the elevator down a short corridor.
Vivian pressed the ‘up’ button and tapped her foot impatiently while sneaking a few peeks to make sure Preston didn’t spot her. He was still busy sweet-talking the poor young lady behind the counter. Finally, the elevator doors opened. Two people got off, and she stepped inside. She pushed the fourth-floor button. It was a good minute before the doors began closing, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
But just before the doors touched, a large hand slid in between, stopping them. The doors slowly opened again, and Preston Stone stood there with an annoying twinkle in his dark eyes and his lips curled up into a pompous grin.
“Hello, Vivian. You’re looking well.”
She nodded her head in return and moved to one side of the elevator.
He got on and deliberately stood in the center. “How is business at your fashion boutique?”
She glared at him. “I don’t see any reason for us to make small talk.”
He tipped his head sideways, pretending to look hurt. “I was hoping after all this time we could bury the hatchet. It’s been close to a year now, hasn’t it? I admit I behaved badly.”
Vivian thanked the powers above that the doors finally closed, and the elevator started moving. “If that’s an apology, I’m not the one you should be talking to.”
His grin widened. “Does Patricia still work at your shop?”
“No, after you broke my sister’s heart, she moved to the east coast.”
“Aw, poor kid. Well, in my defense, I told her straight up that I wasn’t the type to settle down.”
Ooh, he really got under her skin. “Don’t worry your swelled head about it, Preston. You didn’t scar her for life. She’s already engaged to a wealthy stockbroker.”
“Good for her! See? Sounds like she let bygones be bygones. I think you should, too, Vivian. After all, I didn’t break your heart...did I?”
If she were a man, he’d be lying on the floor right now with a black eye.
Luckily, the elevator slowed to a stop on the fourth floor. The bell rang once, and Vivian impatiently waited for the doors to open just far enough for her to slip through them. Once done, she saw the small sign hanging on the wall that gave the direction of the room numbers, and she quickly headed down the hall to her left.
She heard someone walking behind her and glanced around. Preston had gotten off the elevator, too, and he was trailing her. She picked up her pace. “Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me?”
He chuckled. “As much as I enjoy sparring with you, it just so happens that I’m meeting someone who is staying on this floor.”
Vivian reached room Forty-Four and waited for Preston to pass by her before she knocked on the door. Instead, he ended up standing beside her. She let out an exasperated groan. “What are you doing, Preston?”
“Okay, now I have to agree with you that this is a little awkward. The person I’m meeting is staying in room Forty-Four.”
Vivian flashed her eyes at him. “You’re kidding me?”
“I wish I was,” he said. “I’ll let you have the honor of knocking on the door.”
She had half a mind to walk away and forget about all this, but she was even more curious than before. She lifted her hand and knocked.
The door fell open.
They both stood there silently. Vivian was hoping Preston would call to the woman since she had no idea what her name was, but he looked at her as though waiting for her to make the first move.
“Hello?” she finally said.
Dead silence.
Vivian stepped away from the door. “Apparently, she’s not home.”
“Hold on.” Preston pushed the door all the way open and walked into the foyer. “Stay here, Vivian. I’m going to take a look around.”
She resented him telling her what to do, so she followed him inside. They made their way down a short hall, and Vivian could see the living area that was elegantly furnished with twin Queen Anne wingback chairs and a matching velvet sofa.
Preston suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. “Son of a gun...”
Vivian gasped when she noticed the blonde woman sprawled on the floor in front of the wooden coffee table with blood saturating her white blouse.
Preston hurried over, got on one knee, and pressed his fingers against the woman’s neck. “She’s dead. Looks like a gunshot to her chest.”
It took Vivian a second to grasp what he’d said. During that moment, she spotted a framed photograph propped on the coffee table. Frowning, she moved closer to get a better look, and her heart sank. It was a picture of George and the dead woman on a boat, arm-in-arm, like lovers.
Her vision darted to the woman lying on the floor again, and she groaned out loud.
“Are you okay, Vivian?” Preston asked.
She covered her mouth and nodded her head almost frantically, glad that he thought it was seeing the dead woman that upset her. But she just noticed the woman’s shoes. They were silver Ghillie lace sandals, exactly like the pair she thought George had bought for her as an anniversary gift. It never occurred to her that she never found those shoes among his things after his death.
“Well, this poses a bit of a problem,” Preston said. “Did you know her very well?”
Vivian hesitated, trying to find her voice as well as an excuse for being here. “She...she was a potential client and wanted to meet this afternoon to hear more about my services. I just spoke with her no more than twenty minutes ago. What about you?”
He didn’t answer her right away, either. “I met her at a party over the weekend, and we had a dinner date tonight.”
Vivian had the feeling that he didn’t believe her any more than she believed him, but right now, she was more interested in distracting him so she could take the photograph. “Really? What was her name, Preston?”
“Okay, now you’re being childish, Vivian. Neither one of us had anything to do with her death.”
“I know I didn’t,” she told him.
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we go our separate ways and let the hotel take care of this? Otherwise, we’ll both be stuck for hours in red tape. The police will take us down to the station, and we’ll spend the night answering a lot of ridiculous questions until they exhaust the issue.”
As he spoke, he walked over to look out the window. Vivian snatched the photograph and hid it behind her back. “I hate to say it, but I agree with you.”
“There’s a stairway at the end of the hall. Why don’t you take that down to the first floor instead of the elevator? It leads to the back lot outside.”
“All right.” Vivian looked at the woman again. Under different circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of just leaving without calling the police or, at the very least, alerting the hotel manager. Normally, she would feel far more grief and compassion for the woman lying there and question why Preston was so quick to suggest they sneak away.
Instead, she headed straight for the door without another word while slipping the photograph into her handbag.
“See you around, Vivian!”
She ignored him and walked down the hall to the stairway. When she was outside, she headed to the parking lot and got into her car. She sat there for a moment, staring at her handbag before driving back to the boutique.
Nora was waiting for her with the sandwiches she’d ordered. Vivian didn’t know how she managed it, but after she assured Nora that everything was fine, the two of them sat at the table in the back room, chatting and eating their meal. Another hour passed before Nora finally headed home.
As soon as she left, Vivian locked the front door, and she and Bella went upstairs to her apartment. Vivian set her handbag down on the kitchen counter and immediately took the photograph out. Her stomach turned when she glimpsed the photo again. She flipped it over and using the seam ripper from the sewing pouch in her purse, she bent the four picture points that held the cardboard in place. She removed the photo and looked at the back of it.
As she suspected, it was dated the last weekend in September of last year when George had supposedly traveled to San Diego on business. Without hesitation, she grabbed the telephone receiver on the counter and dialed zero.
“Hello, operator, could you give me the number for the Sacramento branch of the Bank of America, please?” She opened the drawer and pulled out a piece of paper and pen to write the information down. “Excuse me? Are you sure? Okay, thank you.” She slammed the receiver down.
The bank didn’t have a branch in Sacramento. George had lied to her again and intended to spend their first anniversary with his mistress.
Dazed by it all, she went into the living room and sat on the sofa, petting Bella lying beside her and glaring at her wedding picture on the end table.
She’d thought the day she married George was the best day of her life. For years, she swore she would never get married or have children. She also had good reason for not trusting too many people, but when she met George, it felt good to let her guard down and not worry about the past anymore. She only wanted to look to the future with him and even hoped after they bought the house in Glendale, they might talk about starting a family of their own.
George had lied to her from the start. She didn’t know him at all, but she sure as heck was going to find out all she could about his mistress, and why someone murdered her, too.
