An Unconventional Murder (22 page)

Cameron slipped a piece of plastic out of the front compartment. "Robert Johnson," he
read. "The dead man's wallet!"

Upton broke the tense silence. "Folks, we've got a problem here. A big problem."

"I don't get it," Brady muttered. "This is the dead man's wallet? How did it get up here,
in this suite?"

"Someone obviously brought it here," Upton said. "Which is why we have a
problem."

"How do you figure?" said Callahan.

"The honeymoon suite has only been accessible to five people since Johnson was
murdered: You, Rena, GP, Ashley, Royce and me. No one else had a key."

"But other people have been in here," Randy pointed out. "Ms. Ridgeway, for example.
And Detective Cameron and his son."

Thelma Ridgeway glared at Randy. "Are you suggesting that one of us--"

"I'm not suggesting anything," he replied. "I'm just being accurate . Has anyone brought
anyone else up here?"

"Not me," Rena said.

Ashley shook his head. "Nope."

"GP?" Upton said.

"It must admit, it would have made a dandy hideaway for a tryst. But Suzanne's been a
good girl."

"I had my own room," said Royce. "I would have no reason to use this suite, whether for
a tryst or otherwise."

Slowly Upton let his gaze shift from person to person. "Then it's virtually certain that
one of the people in this room has committed two murders today. The implications are
mind-boggling. Brady, where did you find this wallet?"

Brady shifted uneasily. "I guess I was kind of looking through one of the closets."

"Kind of?" Cameron said. "What does that mean?"

"Okay, not kind of," Brady answered. "I was looking through it. When I finished in the
bathroom, I decided to see if I could find a blanket since I figured I might get cold sleeping on
the floor. I noticed the closet in the hall and figured there might be one there."

"Was there?"

"No. But I stuck my hand in and felt around under the pillows. I had to stand on my
tiptoes. All I found was that wallet."

Upton narrowed his eyes Brady's story didn't quite ring true.

Cameron obviously wondered the same thing. "Why were you looking through that
particular closet? And why--"

Brady stepped back and for a moment looked ready to cry.

Upton knew that similar scenes had played out between them before.

"What are you accusing me of?" Brady demanded.

"May I suggest something?" Upton said. Before Cameron could answer, he continued,
"Brady, before entering this room a few minutes ago, have you been in the honeymoon suite
before?"

His eyes staring resentfully into his father's, Brady said, "No."

Upton looked to Cameron. "Has he?"

"Not to my knowledge. What are you getting at?"

"Note your son's Metallica sweatshirt and tight blue jeans. He's the only male in the
room who isn't wearing a sport jacket."

"I know," Brady said with a self-conscious shrug. "I didn't realize everyone else would
be dressed up for the banquet. Sorry."

"That's not my point," Upton said. "You weren't carrying anything in your hands when
you came upstairs with us. Your pants are rather, shall we say, snug?" He turned to Cameron. "So
tell me, where would he have been hiding the wallet?"

GP eyes fell meaningfully upon young man's crotch. "Maybe--"

"Don't go there, GP. I'll concede it's a possibility, but--"

"Besides, you would have noticed something like that, wouldn't you, Suzanne?" Rena
said.

"He's too young for me," was the breezy response. "I'm not a cougar. And I prefer
Sinatra over Metallica. Besides, if he killed Robert Johnson, why would he come prancing out
here with that wallet?"

"A confession?" Ashley suggested. "The guilt became too much to bear?"

GP asked, "Are you confessing to anything, Brady?"

"No. I don't have anything to confess to."

"Pity," she said. She yawned. "For my money, we should all just go to bed and let the
police handle this."

"It doesn't bother you to think there's a murderer in this room?" Rena said. "That you
could be spending the night with--"

"It's all right, Rena," Upton said. He had been watching Cameron. It was obvious from
his intense frown that something was troubling the detective.

And Upton thought he knew what it was.

The weapon used to kill Zachary Tuck still hadn't been found.

If the wallet was hidden in that closet, why couldn't the stiletto be nearby?

"What are you thinking?" he asked Cameron.

"I want everyone out of here."

"That's a heck of a note," Randy complained as they waited in front of the elevators.
"We've been kicked out of our own suite."

"It's pretty bizarre," GP agreed. "So where should we go?"

"Where else?" Ashley said, looking grim. "To the bar."

Rena said, "Suits me. I can't think of anywhere better to kill half an hour. Somehow, I'd
feel safer if we're in a public place."

No one spoke as they rode the elevator down to the main floor of the hotel and headed
toward the bar.

"Where is everyone?" Upton asked the bartender, eyeing the nearly deserted room. "It's
eleven o'clock on a Saturday night."

"They're in their rooms," said the dark-haired bartender. "With their doors bolted shut,
I'd imagine."

Upton raised a brow. "Oh?"

The bartender lowered his voice. "Rumor has it there's some maniac running around the
hotel slitting people's throats. It's like living inside a cheap slasher flick. That's bad for
business."

"I'll bet," Upton sympathized. "I'd like a Coke. No ice."

"Whisky sour," GP said.

The others ordered their drinks. Upton was surprised when Thelma Ridgeway asked for
a gin and tonic. He'd had her pegged as a beer drinker. After placing his order for iced tea, Brady
turned his attention to the TV suspended near their table and seemed to lose interest in the group.
He had been sullen from the moment his father had challenged him about finding the wallet.

Rena commandeered the chair next to Upton's. "Why did he want us out of there?"

"He's looking for something."

"The knife?"

He nodded. "And anything else he can find."

"Do you think he'll find it?"

"I hope so."

Rena raised a brow. "What's wrong?"

He took his time answering. "What's wrong is that there is every indication someone at
this table has killed two people today."

Fontaine said, "Do you really believe that, Arthur?"

"How else did that wallet get into the honeymoon suite?"

"I have no alternate suggestion. Or maybe I do. That facilities manager."

"Jimmy?" Rena said. "How do you figure that?"

"He claims the doors to the Aspen Room were unlocked when we know full well they
were not. As a hotel employee, he could have made himself an entry card and concealed the
wallet in the honeymoon suite."

Upton mulled it over, including the fact that the locked doors had now been explained.
"Why would he want to do that?"

"Some grievance against the CFWA?" Ashley suggested.

"The only person we know of with a grievance against the CFWA is Ms. Ridgeway,"
Upton pointed out.

"Don't look at me," she said. "I admit, I was pretty damned mad at you folks. But not
enough to kill anybody."

"Except maybe Theia Rand?" Rena suggested.

Ridgeway gave Randy Callahan a sheepish smile. "It's possible I've been off base,
thinking you stole my story."

"You certainly were, Ms. Ridgeway," he agreed. "I don't steal other people's
stories."

"Thelma," she said. "You can call me Thelma."

Fontaine said, "What will that policeman do when we get back?"

"It depends on whether he finds the knife," Upton said. "No, come to think of it, it won't.
He'll want to know where each of us was when Tuck was being murdered. He already has a
pretty good idea where we were--or, at least, where we
say
we were--while Robert
Johnson was getting strangled."

"What time was Tuck killed?" Ashley said.

Upton saw no reason not to answer. After all, the person who mattered--the one who
killed Tuck--already knew when it happened. "Between about two o'clock, when he left us after
the fire, and 6:30, when his body was found. Probably, we can narrow it down to about 4:00,
since that was the time of the first agent appointment he didn't keep." He stared, one at a time, at
each of them. "So where was everybody during that time frame?"

"I was listening to the session on electronic publishing," Thelma Ridgeway volunteered.
"I have an alibi."

"The entire time?"

"Well, at least until about 3:45. That's when I left to go keep my agent appointment. I
wanted to be early."

Upton regarded her. "You were his first afternoon appointment?"

"I don't know."

"She was," Rena said. "I checked the schedule when I was looking for her."

"Did you know anyone else who was attending the electronic publishing session?"
Upton said. "Anyone who can vouch for your being there?"

"No. I don't know anyone in the CFWA. Other than you folks, that is. But plenty of
people were there. One of them might remember me."

Upton set down his drink. "What about the rest of you? Where were you between two
o'clock and 4:00?"

Royce gaped. "Arthur, you're serious about this, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Well, I don't believe I care to answer, as a matter of principle."

Upton shrugged. "Suit yourself. Cameron will ask you the same questions. Except that
he won't take 'no' for an answer. Will he, Ash? You're the expert on police procedure."

"He's right, Royce," Ashley said in a grim tone. "He'll insist on knowing where all of us
were."

"This is unspeakable," Royce protested between clenched teeth. "But upon reflection, I
can see that you are correct, and I shall answer your impertinent question. I was in my room,
reading
Dark Decisions
and making notes of my comparison with Ms. Ridgeway's
sample chapters."

"Can anyone corroborate that?" Upton said.

Royce glared at him. "Certainly not! Unlike certain people," he asserted, with a glance at
GP. "I do not invite companions to my room. I had no expectation that I would need an
alibi."

"None of us did," Upton said. "What about you, Randy?"

The romance writer scratched his head. "Between two and four? I don't really know
offhand. Let's see, after lunch the whole bunch of us went upstairs because of what Ms.
Ridgeway was claiming. We--"

"Call me Thelma."

"Right. Thelma. After we broke up, I guess I came down to the bar and had a drink. I
was feeling pretty flat. Ashley joined me."

"How long were the two of you together?"

Ashley looked at Callahan. "What do you think, about an hour?"

"Something like that. I wasn't keeping track."

"And what did the two of you do after that?"

Ashley said, "I went up to my room for a while and switched on the TV, to see what was
going on with the snow and the Heritage Center. Then I came back down and sat in on the
session on publishing contracts. I figured that since Mr. Tuck was going to get my book sold, I'd
better know what to look for in the fine print. I have to say, I was pretty excited about it. I stayed
there until the session ended, then I headed upstairs to change for dinner."

Callahan said, "After the two of us split up, I just hung around in the convention area for
a while, feeling sorry for myself and trying to figure out what I was going to do about Ms.--about
Thelma."

She reached over and patted his hand. "I'm sorry. I guess I was out of line. Way out of
line."

Upton noticed that Randy didn't pull his hand away. "Randy, did anyone see you while
you were hanging around?"

"I don't know. I wasn't paying any attention. I suppose someone could have. But I
couldn't say who."

"Rena?"

"Me?" she said, turning pale. "You think I could have killed those two people?"

Upton smiled benignly. "Actually, I don't." He glanced at his wristwatch. "But we have
at least another half hour to kill, and this is as good a way as any. I'll go next. I promise."

"Well, I met with the board and Ms. Ridgeway. Thelma," she amended as the other
woman stirred in protest. "After that, I worked on reassigning speakers to new rooms, since the
Aspen Room was off limits. Mr. Forrest let me use his computer to print up some new signs.
After that was under control, I went up to my room." For the benefit of the others, she added,
"Art is my alibi as to that." She continued, "Then I came--"

"I beg your pardon?" Royce interrupted. "Did you say that Arthur was your alibi?"

"I did. He came up to my room to change clothes. Since he isn't staying at the hotel, he
needed a place to store his dinner clothes. I told him he could keep them in my room."

"He was carrying no clothing when I first saw him this morning," Royce pointed out
suspiciously.

"That's true," Upton agreed. "I brought them last night."

"Did you?" Royce muttered, his tone dripping with skepticism. "Precisely what is the
nature of your relationship with Ms. Oberhaus?"

Upton felt a vein throbbing in his neck. "Under any other circumstances, I would tell you
it's none of your damn business!"

Amusement flickered in Royce's eyes. "Under any other circumstances, I wouldn't
ask."

The two men stared at each other. Upton realized that he was only getting back what he
had given Fontaine earlier in the day, but he still resented it. In a cold tone, he declared, "There is
no relationship between Ms. Oberhaus
and me. She is the head of this convention, and I
am President of the CFWA. That's the long and short of it."

Ashley said, "That doesn't make sense. You obviously know her well enough to leave
your clothes in her room."

"We're talking about a suit and a necktie," Upton replied hotly. "Not anything personal.
Our relationship is strictly business."