Bad Hair Day 7 - Dead Roots (12 page)

“Do you really expect to find anything?”

“Personally, I think Andrew’s secret is tied to his death.” Cynthia scratched her arm. “Rumor says the condemned wing is haunted by those two men who visited him the day he died. I think we should concentrate on locations that are supposed to be spooked.”

“I’ll bet you’re right. Dalton and I will take the top tower floors.” Andrew’s stash might not exist, but Marla still hoped to find Polly’s letters and maybe a copy of her aunt’s will. Drifting toward Bruce, she meant to ask him about his real estate interests when her cell phone rang. With a twinge of guilt, she remembered her intention to call Nicole to make sure everything was all right at the salon, and to phone Tally to wish her friend a Happy Thanksgiving. She should check on Spooks in the kennel, too.

Barry Gold’s cheerful voice greeted her. “Hey, Marla. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

Marla gulped and glanced over her shoulder at Vail. She didn’t want him to catch her talking to the optometrist, who happened to be the highly eligible son of Anita’s boyfriend. “I’m great, thanks. How are things with you and your dad?” Barry had gone north to help settle the estate of his great aunt.

“We should be back by next Wednesday. Any chance we can attend services together on Friday night?”

Marla’s heart lurched as Vail turned in her direction. “I don’t think Dalton would like it if we went out together, even for religious reasons.”

“I’ll call you when I’m back,” he persisted. “We’ll talk about it then. I picked up two more films for my John Wayne collection. You still have to come over and watch one with me.”

“Have a safe flight,” she said before hanging up.

“Who was that?” Vail said when he reached her side.

“One of my friends. Did you learn anything new? I noticed you were working the crowd.”

“Not a whole lot, unfortunately. You?”

“Cynthia and my cousins divided up their search field. They’re looking for Andrew’s loot. I said we’d take the top floors in the tower.”

“Sounds like a plan. I want to get back there today.”

“Me too. We should have some time after lunch.”

Wanda brought the group to a halt after they climbed to an elevated walkway overlooking a grassy marsh. Something slithered past in the water.

“We have an interesting vista from this savannah,” their guide’s voice boomed. This grass is called hairy gramma. It’s a short midwestern prairie species, rarely grown in Florida. Look carefully and you might spot some alligators.”

So? It’s not as though I haven’t seen them before
. Marla glanced at her younger cousins’ scared faces and smirked.
Be grateful it isn’t summer. You’d be eaten alive by the mosquitoes.

Swarms of bugs flew close to the water, making her scurry ahead to the mangrove swamp, where tannin colored the shallow depths. Wanda halted the group to point out an anhinga sunning on a branch. Skirting an egret in her path, Marla approached Cynthia’s husband.

“Hey, Bruce, you said this park is part of the same parcel as the hotel. What do think about the plans to turn the whole thing into a theme park?” she asked him with a playful note.

His face reddened, and he glanced away. “My opinion doesn’t matter. It isn’t my decision.”

“What if our family still had a stake in the resort’s ownership? Would you recommend selling the property, knowing the hotel would be torn down?”

“If the living-history museum gets the green light, the outlying structures could be restored to their original appearance. The sugar mill, slave cabins.” He couldn’t conceal the zeal in his eyes. “Think in terms of Sturbridge Village, or the historical recreation in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.”

“What about the barn and the stable? They’ve already been converted into a theater and restaurant.” Marla tilted her head. “And don’t forget the conservatory, with its delightful tearoom overlooking the garden. Would you destroy those also? I thought you favored preservation. The old hotel, if properly restored, would showcase Florida in its 1920s heyday.”

“You must have been talking to George Butler. He’s adamant about reconstruction. He has his repair crews working overtime just to put the place in a better light. It won’t sway the city council. Donna and the others have already voted in favor of the property sale.”

She grabbed his arm. “How do you know this?”

“I, er, ran into her.” Scowling, he pulled back.

“Just what is your interest in this place, Bruce? Have you been attending those council meetings?”

“What if I have? They’re not closed-door sessions. Anyone can attend.”

“Are you aware there might be stipulations about the terms of sale dating from when Ruth signed over the property? Have you examined the legal documents?”

“We haven’t gotten that far—” He cut himself off, casting her an angry glare.

“So you
are
one of the potential investors.”

“If I am, that’s my business.”

She planted a hand on her hip, aware the others in the group were crossing into the dune community while she hung back along with Bruce. A harsh bird cry filled the air, followed by an ominous snorting noise. Glancing down, she shifted her feet away from the edge of the boardwalk that ran from the mangrove swamp to the shore. No need to tempt the gators.

“It may be my family’s business, too.” She met his gaze squarely. “This is one case where I support the resort staff. I think the hotel would be magnificent if it were restored, ghosts and all.”

“You haven’t seen the condition of Oleander Hall. It’s deplorable. There have been too many accidents that show just how rundown the place is.”

“You’ve been inside the condemned wing?”

“Yep. It’s full of rotted beams, peeling paint, mold. There’s even garbage strewn across threadbare carpets that are a tripping hazard in themselves. Empty food wrappers, soda cans, you name it. The rats probably outnumber the dust mites in that hellhole.”

Soda cans? Who’d left those, the work crews? To her knowledge, they weren’t allowed inside Oleander Hall until restorations were approved. External repairs were merely cosmetic in nature. She’d have to speak to Dr. Spector to see if his crew had been snacking on the job.

So much for asking Bruce about Ruth’s legacy to their family. Either he wasn’t aware of any obstacles that might deter a sale, or he wasn’t letting on that he knew of any.

Dismissing her, her cousin’s husband trudged off. Marla hurried to catch up to the group. She paused on the walkway that bridged shifting sand dunes. Sea oats, railroad vines, and dune sunflowers inhabited this fragile ecosystem. Marla spotted a great blue heron along with a roseate spoonbill, excitedly pointed out by Wanda Beake. Terns trotted along the beach while pelicans graced the skies.

If only her thoughts were as dear as the blue sky overhead. Musing over her conversation with Bruce, she considered the implications of his involvement. If he had an interest in the proposed theme park, how far would he go to achieve his aims?

“When do the police expect the autopsy report to be ready?” she asked Vail as they stood on a bluff overlooking the beach. She spoke in a low voice so no one could hear them. Her neck itched, and she ran a finger around the inside of her collar. She’d rather be lying out in a swimsuit than wearing a pants outfit in the rising heat.

“It could take a few days. What did Bruce say? I saw you talking to him.”

“I know this sounds terrible, but I’m wondering if he had a reason to want Aunt Polly out of the way.” She repeated the gist of their conversation.

“No fair. He told you more than he told me,” Vail said with a teasing gleam in his eyes.

She gave him an affectionate punch. “That’s because I’m less intimidating than you, even when you’re not officially on the job. Do you think Cynthia knows about his interest in developing the re-sort?”

“She made the arrangements for this weekend.” Vail regarded Marla with a thoughtful expression. “It’s possible Bruce mentioned the city council meeting, but Polly is the one who selected this place.”

“I think Cynthia would have said something before now if she knew. She’s likely to oppose him.”

“And if Polly turns out to have met an unsavory end?” Vail asked.

Shrugging, Marla tilted her head. “We still don’t know what Butler meant about my aunt having rights to the top floors. If legal terms were really in her favor, and Bruce knows about it, he’d have a motive to get rid of her.”

“Have you seen my floss?” Vail said later that morning, when they were back in their room. He shuffled through his toiletries in the lavatory. “I thought I put it next to the toothpaste.”

“You can use mine.” After a refreshing shower, she’d donned a rust-colored short-sleeved sweater and a pair of khakis. Standing in front of the dresser mirror, she brushed her hair.

Just after she put the brush down, the hotel room door burst open. Startled, she glanced up but saw no one in the doorway.

“Who’s there?” Vail called.

“I don’t see anyone.” Striding over, she peaked out. The corridor was empty. Strains of theme music from
The Twilight Zone
sifted through her mind. “I could have sworn I’d locked it when we came in,” she said, shutting the door.

“Must be your spooks again,” Vail said in a jovial tone.

“That’s not funny.” Had she left the door ajar, or did a breeze kick it open? “Look, what’s our plan?” she asked, disregarding the ethereal possibilities.

He emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his neck. “I’ll talk to Butler. You can corner the groundskeeper. We’ll ask them both about the thirteenth floor, and if they know anything about the legal terms of sale. Butler may have a set of blueprints for the hotel. We’ll meet back here afterward to explore Andrew’s suite.”

“We should see where the rest of the passages lead. Did you get your flashlight from the car?”

“Right there.” He pointed to the dresser.

“I want to find Harvey Lyle,” Marla said. “According to Wanda, the steward picked her up at the airport last night. I’d like to confirm her time of arrival. And I still haven’t finished asking Ma questions.”

“Wouldn’t Anita tell you if she knew something important?”

“She may need her memory refreshed. If I bring her to the twelfth floor, where she grew up, it might ring some bells. I have a feeling my family history is involved in whatever’s going on around here. For all we know, we might be sitting on a mountain of wealth, either through Andrew’s legacy or Ruth’s disposition of the property. Will you be able to check the town records today if city offices are open?”

“For you, I’d do anything.” He gave her a slow, sexy grin. “It’s a long time until lunch. Wanna kill a few hours?”

“Don’t get ideas,” she retorted, even while her body responded against her will. “If we get sidetracked, it’ll be dinnertime before we accomplish anything.”

“Is that so bad?” He sauntered closer, his eyes gleaming.

She held up a hand. “Whoa, boy. Save it for later.”

After he left, Marla phoned her mother’s room. When no one responded, she decided to track down Anita later.

Heading outside, she aimed toward the grounds-keeper’s cottage. A troop of laborers clomped by, carrying paint buckets, brushes, and other equipment. They all had a similar look, with their olive green overalls and swarthy complexions. She halted to watch them, wondering where they came from.
No labor shortage here, even on holidays
. When one man carrying a clipboard scowled at her, Marla hastened on her way.

A seagull lent its plaintive cry to the wind as she avoided a gnarled root in her path, then nearly tripped on a trailing vine, causing a lizard to scamper under a nearby rock. A black crow flitted into her path as though daring her to trespass. Watching it take off with a flutter of wings, she skirted past a grayish-white trunk with lichen growing in green splotches on its surface. Sun-warmed frangi-pani spiced the air, filling her nose with fragrance. She passed a cluster of cycads whose fine-combed fronds stretched outward like multiple arms raised in supplication.

Marla’s nape prickled as she approached the front door to Seto’s house and saw that the drapes were pulled tight. When she’d visited Mulch before, sunlight had streamed in through the windows.

Knocking on the door brought forth no response, so she circled around to the back, which faced the woods. Seto’s house couldn’t be too far from the grand entrance to the resort. The drone of traffic reached her ears along with a gurgling sound. Following its source, she discovered a garden hose attached to a faucet on the side of the house. Water trickled from the hose’s mouth. So the precious liquid wouldn’t go to waste, Marla twisted the spigot. It turned easily, making her wonder why someone had not thoroughly shut off the valve.

She followed the stream of water to the rear kitchen door. Putting her hand on the knob, Marla shouted a greeting. As the silence grew longer, she gazed down at the water flowing over a concrete slab and under the transom. Mulch must have had the painters here. The water had a faint pink tinge.

Would the old man paint his house pink?

Pushing the unlocked door open, she peered warily into the darkened kitchen while a strong odor of bleach slammed into her nostrils. Shadows danced on the walls. She fought an urge to retreat, but, calling Mulch’s name, she forced herself to search the house. The groundskeeper wasn’t there, and she noted a strange discoloration on his linoleum floor.

Tearing out the back door, she raced toward the main hotel lobby and its bright, spacious interior. She located Champagne Glass in the social director’s office. The blonde gave her a confectionery smile so sweet it could displace chocolate on the dessert menu. “Hey, Marla, how come you’re not out enjoying this
lovely
day?”

Marla spared a glance at the woman’s desk piled with papers. “I’m worried about Seto Mulch. He’s not in his house. His outdoor hose was leaking water into his kitchen, and it had a reddish tint.”

“Really? That’s odd.” Various emotions flickered across Champagne’s expression before her brow smoothed. “Why, sugar, that could just be rust from the hard water.”

“Don’t you think Seto would have turned off the faucet more securely? Anyway, the trail led into his kitchen. The water shouldn’t be pink in there. And his back door was unlocked.”

“Oh dear.” Champagne chewed her lip. “He might be prepping for the luau tonight,” she suggested. Marla noticed she’d lost her cheery demeanor. “You could find him supervising the gardeners by the pool. What were you doing at his house, Marla?”

“I wanted to ask him some questions about my family history. Do your people carry beepers?”

“I’m afraid not; we use cell phones, but Seto refused to get one. He’s still back in the dark ages in respect to technology.” Champagne’s mouth curved in a wry smile.

“What about a work schedule? He must account for his whereabouts to someone.”

“You can ask George Butler. The manager keeps tabs on his key people. But Seto often wanders off on his own, especially to the sugar mill. I’ve seen him there lots of times when I lead tour groups. I think he’s aiming to keep Alyssa’s ghost company.” Nervous laughter bubbled from her throat.

“Do you really believe in spirits?” Marla said. “People are dying here, but not to join their ancestors. First that man on the ladder, then my aunt, now Seto is missing. I’ve noticed that the resort employs an unusual number of laborers, and construction work continues without any end in sight. What’s going on?”

Champagne cast an anxious glance at the open doorway. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“May I shut the door?” At Champagne’s nod, Marla secured their privacy. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned about these things? I’ve noticed how you assume your cheerful act in front of guests. Is your performance aimed at your audience or your employers?”

“I-I’m sorry. I can’t…Look, Marla, I know you want to help. But that could be dangerous around here.”

“I’m more worried about Seto Mulch right now.”

“He has to be somewhere on the property. You’ll see.”

“I’ll check it out, but I’d appreciate it if you could ask around as well.”

“Of course.” Champagne cast her eyes down.

“What is it?” Marla sensed she wanted to add something.

“If you could get inside Mr. Butler’s office…”

“Yes?”

“You may find many of your answers there.”

Is he involved in something that disturbs you
? Marla wanted to ask. Embezzlement would give the manager a reason for wanting to preserve the hotel. Any sale might prompt an examination of his accounting books. “Go on,” she said instead.

“It’s the theme park. He’s already—”

A knock rattled the door before it banged open. Wanda Beake swooped inside like a bird of prey. “Champagne, dearie, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need to review this schedule with you.” She waved a sheet of paper. “Oh, Marla. You ran off so quickly this morning that I didn’t get a chance to ask if you enjoyed our little tour.” Her mouth widened in a grin, but Marla thought her eyes looked unfriendly.

“It was
wonderful
,” she said, imitating Champagne’s exuberance. “I was just talking to Champagne about the lack of a salon on premises. My cousin had to go into town earlier to get her nails done. It would be highly convenient for guests if you had a beautician on staff.”

Champagne picked up the cue. “You’re right, and we have the facilities at the spa, but we can’t find qualified people willing to do part-time work.”

“I have a salon in Palm Haven,” Marla explained. “Maybe I’ll mention it to your manager later. You could always work out an on-call arrangement with a local establishment.” Taking her leave, she breezed out the door, hoping the naturalist regarded her as nothing more than a fluff-head. A search for Butler led to a dead end. Instead, she ran into Harvey tagging someone’s luggage at the bellboy’s station.

“Have you seen Seto Mulch?” she asked him, the urgency of that errand returning.

The steward leered at her. “I ain’t run into him yet today, ma’am,” he replied, “but I’ll take a look-see with ya as soon as I store these bags.”

“That’s okay.” She shifted her handbag. “By the way, what time did you pick up Wanda Beake from the airport last night?”

Harvey scratched his bristly jaw. “It was pretty late. Didn’t get there until after dark. Ya’d think they’d schedule flight arrivals during the day to these small aero-ports.”

“Were many people getting off the airplane?”

“I waited outside at baggage pickup, but there weren’t no crowd at all.”

Maybe that was because the bird-watcher had come in earlier and hidden out for the day.

“Harvey, why is there no thirteenth floor?” she asked, changing the subject abruptly. “You know, the tower elevator goes from twelve to fourteen. Anyone who can count will realize the top floor is number thirteen. Or is there an actual level in between the two?”

“Impossible. Ya can’t get off nowhere else. Did hear some wild rumors, though.”

Pulling a key ring from his pocket, he unlocked the storage room and stashed the suitcases inside. Returning, he winked at Marla as he pocketed his keys.
Those would be useful to borrow sometime
, she thought. Would they gain her entrance into Oleander Hall?

“What kind of rumors?” she said, anxious to pursue her search for Mulch, but also wanting to hear what Lyle had to say. Harvey signaled for her to follow him into the telephone alcove, where he pulled a flask from his jacket. “Want some? It’s good stuff.”

She wrinkled her nose at the strong whiff of rum when he uncorked the container. Taking a deep swig, he smacked his lips before replacing the flask. “Maybe booze ain’t what yer after.” His loopy smile revealed a broken tooth. “Gals like you go for guys like me, even if ya pretend yer too hoity-toity.” He swaggered toward her, making a lewd gesture. “We could do it quick-like, or go somewhere more private.”

Marla forced herself to remain still. “Tell me what you heard about the thirteenth floor first”

He leaned so close, she could see the jaundiced tint to his eyes. “This hotel was built during Prohibition. Folks used to come here to get their fix, if ya know what I mean. A secret floor would be just the place. No access, though, so I don’t see how it can be true. Keep in mind, this is just hearsay.”

“I would imagine the blueprints display the layout.”

The boss has a set in his office. Keeps them locked up.”

Marla assessed the lecherous gleam in Lyle’s eye and what she would have to do to gain entry into the manager’s office. There had to be another way. Right now, it was more imperative to locate the groundskeeper. Seto Mulch had worked for Andrew and then Ruth. Prohibition? She hadn’t even considered the era, but the more she thought about it, the more the secret passage made sense.

“My boyfriend will get angry if he finds me here,” she warned, ducking Lyle’s outstretched arm.

The steward snickered. “Be waitin’ for ya next time, honey buns.”

“Not if I can help it,” Marla muttered on her way outdoors. The door swung at her, and she nearly collided with Donna Albright.

The councilwoman’s flushed face regarded her warily. “I’m so sorry,” the older woman said. “I forget these doors aren’t automatic and which way they open. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s all right” Marla stepped across the threshold, but Albright’s next words stopped her from going any farther.

“By any chance, have you run into Mr. Mulch? The old guy was supposed to meet me, but he didn’t show.”

“What do you mean?”

“He left a message on my machine that he had something to say regarding the hotel property, and I should meet him by the volleyball court at eleven o’clock. He stood me up.”

Marla glanced at her watch. It was almost lunch hour. Time to exchange news with Vail. “Champagne told me he’s fixing the pool area for tonight’s luau. It’s possible he got delayed.”

Albright’s lips pursed. “I don’t appreciate my time being wasted.”

“How did the vote go on Wednesday?”

“We still have some issues to clear up. There’s a lot of opposition from the hotel staff, and they make some valid points.”

“I thought the council voted in favor of the acquisition.”

“Who told you that?” Albright’s spine stiffened.

“My cousin’s husband, Bruce, a real estate developer,” Marla said. “He admitted he’d like a stake in developing the theme park. Have you done a title search to see if the current owners have the right to sell the property?”

“We haven’t progressed that far. Is there some reason why you’d anticipate a problem?”