Bad Hair Day 7 - Dead Roots (19 page)

“Ow,” she cried, but her pain quickly receded when she heard a familiar clicking noise and the rear panel gave way. “Yes!” she muttered, tumbling into the tunnel. “At last, something is going right.” Releasing the mechanism on the other side, she waited for the portal to close securely before illuminating the passage ahead. “Now, which way to go?”

Murmuring voices led her to a spiral staircase on her left. This wasn’t the route she might have chosen, because her sense of direction told her the main hotel would be to the right. But another instinct told her to follow the sounds. Maybe her ghostly ancestors were drawing her that way, she thought.

Sparing a moment, she retrieved her cell phone from her handbag. Fortunately, it still had service, possibly because she stood near an outside wall. She dialed Vail’s number.

He picked up on the first ring. “Where are you?” he demanded as though he’d been waiting by the phone.

“I’m in Oleander Hall. Do you want to meet me?”

He cursed, then said, “Okay, how do I get inside?”

“Enter the tunnel from our room. Keep going down until you get to the lowest level, then pick a direction that takes you toward the main hotel. I’ll join you around there.”

“You’re adding white hairs to my head, woman.”

“We can fix that,” she said, grinning in the near dark.

Five minutes later, she was creeping along the tunnel following louder, but real, voices on the third floor.
These passages must act like conduits to amplify sound
, she thought, pressing her ear against the wall. Spanish! She couldn’t understand what the men were saying, but it didn’t matter. Now she knew Butler used the condemned hall to house these guys who arrived by boat under cover of darkness.

This train of thought bore a germ of suspicion that erupted into conviction when she saw trailing wires and odd electronic devices.

“I get it,” she murmured, almost tripping in her haste to reach Vail downstairs. She called him again to get a fix on his location. Using their cell phones like directional beacons, they met at an intersection on the ground floor.

“Dalton, there has to be a control room somewhere. I’ll bet it’s near Butler’s office. This whole place is a fake.”

His powerful form crouched in the narrow passage. “What are you talking about? And where’s the exit?”

“Come with me. Remember I said there’s a storeroom behind Butler’s office that used to be where the bootleggers stashed their rum? It has an outside door, and I’ll bet we can reach it from this end. Oleander Hall must have a way out, too, but we don’t want to risk running into Butler’s gang there.”

She told him how she’d ended up in the condemned section.

“Christ, Marla, you’ll be the death of me yet. I can’t leave you alone for one minute before you get into trouble.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t look for it. It kinda finds me. Look at all these wires fixed along the wall. We didn’t notice them before.” She followed the cables until they reached a branch with a stairway curving upward to an apparent dead end.

“Now what?” Vail asked, pressing a hand to the small of her back. “If my guess is right, going straight ahead will take us to the administrative wing.”

“That’ll bring us to the storeroom. I’d hoped we could find Butler’s command station. He must have created the whole show: sound effects, holographic images, and other tricks. Hiring Spector’s team was just a ruse. Don’t you see? He’s already created a theme park.”

“Huh?” Vail looked at her as though she’d loosened a few mental screws.

“The ghost stories, the sightings, even the bell ringing out by the old sugar mill—Butler designed it all.” Never mind the part of her soul that wanted to believe in ghosts. Here was concrete evidence that things were not as they seemed.

Vail touched her arm. “For what purpose? To increase business, because he thinks a haunted hotel would draw more guests?”

“Partially. I also think it’s a way of keeping people away from the old wing. He scares them off with ghoulish tales and warnings that the building is unsafe. Truthfully, it doesn’t look much different than the rest of the place. No wonder he doesn’t want it torn down. That’s the real source of his income, and he needs extra money so he can add to his expensive walking stick collection, along with his retirement funds, I suspect.”

She started up the unfinished staircase, with Vail in her wake. “Explain,” he ordered.

“During the war, Andrew smuggled in Jewish refugees, hid them on the resort property, then dispersed them up north. Assuming Butler knew the history of the place, I figure he converted this scheme to his own purposes. Instead of persecution victims, he boats in illegal aliens across the Gulf of Mexico. I heard the men speak Spanish, so that clinches it in my mind, along with the way they’re treated.”

She paused for a breath. “Butler houses them in Oleander Hall until he can sneak them off the grounds in the guise of construction workers. I’ll bet he uses some of the guys as maintenance men at the resort and sends the others to labor camps. It could be quite a lucrative deal for him.”

Vail’s eyes gleamed. “I think you’re onto something. And if he’s running a smuggling operation, I’ll bet your Aunt Polly found out about it.”

“We need more evidence,” Vail said when they’d returned to their room for a strategy session. Their attempt to locate Butler’s special effects console had ended in defeat. “Did Butler kill Polly, or did that nurse’s aide do the deed?”

“I think the aide was Wanda Beake in disguise,” Marla said, lounging on the bed in her nightshirt. “She and Butler must have had a falling out.”

“Do you think Wanda is in danger?”

“Not if she’s smart and pretends to agree to Butler’s plans. Maybe you can get her to turn witness.”

“That may not be necessary. If we knew when those boats came in, we could set up a surveillance operation.” Pacing the room, Vail plowed a hand through his peppery hair. “Or we can follow Butler when he takes those guys into town.”

“Champagne said he gives the workmen a lift home, but that can’t be true. He must transport them somewhere else. More people have to be involved.”

Vail regarded her thoughtfully. “If you’re right, we wouldn’t want to tip their hand too soon. Approaching Wanda as a possible informant is a good move, but I’d also like to tail Butler when he leaves the next time.”

“Why do you suppose the manager killed Seto? The old man said he’d kept quiet out of respect for Polly. I’m not sure what he meant. Was Polly afraid it would ruin the hotel’s reputation if they exposed Butler’s scheme? Yet she tried to warn me that something was wrong.” Her heart thudded into her throat. ‘You don’t think…Polly was part of it?”

Her companion shook his head. “Nope. Your aunt might have had a loose socket, but I think she was guarding some other secret. We still have to figure that one out. Meanwhile, I’ll notify the local boys about Butler when we have additional proof. All we’ve got at the moment are theories.”

“How many staff members do you think are involved?”

“Could be all of them.”

Marla tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think Champagne understands the scope of things. She may keep herself ignorant on purpose to avoid getting sucked in. Dr. Angus, despite his claims to the contrary, probably gets paid to cover up the construction accidents as natural events.”

She remembered the men who’d tried to run on the beach. They’d been shot down. Was death the punishment for attempting to escape? Or had they been hit by sleep darts like she’d been? But then what about the painter on his ladder?

She felt as though they were in over their heads when they followed George Butler in his van several hours into the morning. He’d loaded a crew of laborers to take into town. Except they didn’t go into town; they headed off on a country road that led through orange groves into the boondocks.

“Where could he be taking them?” Marla asked, gripping her seat cushion as their car bumped over a rocky surface.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Vail grated. He’d missed breakfast after catching only four hours’ sleep. Butler had left at the crack of dawn, and the detective had been keeping watch. Recognizing his foul mood, Marla kept her thoughts to herself.

She had gotten dressed in time to observe the workmen filing into the manager’s vehicle. They didn’t appear to be the same ruffians who’d landed on the beach last night. Instead, she recognized some of the same guys she had seen before on the resort property. They must rotate, giving new arrivals time to get indoctrinated. Or to get their false identity papers ready. No wonder Sugar Crest had so many laborers.

Vail maintained a safe distance from the van in front that kicked up dust in its wake. They were heading east, judging from the sun on their windshield, although the rows of citrus trees on either side of the road blocked any perspective. A truck drove into view, coming straight at them, oranges piled high behind the cab. Vail veered out of its path, edging onto the shoulder, until it rattled past. Large tracts of land devoted to agriculture proved that urban development hadn’t superseded Florida’s rural origins. Plenty of space available for habitation remained. Marla hoped expansion wouldn’t ever run the open range to ground.

“Look, he’s turned into that driveway,” Vail said. Passing by at a slow crawl, they read a sign for Parlay Farms. “This must be where he unloads his crew. I’ve never heard of the place, have you?” Without waiting for her reply, he pulled off the road beside a cluster of cabbage palms and cut the ignition. His stomach growled in the sudden silence.

“You must be hungry,” Marla told him. “Want an apple? I stole one from the buffet yesterday. It’ll give you some energy.” Rummaging in her purse, she withdrew the piece of fruit along with a chocolate-chunk granola bar.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said with a teasing grin as he accepted the snacks.

“Oh, I don’t know. All this excitement turns on my engine.”

“Yeah? I thought that was my job.”

She suppressed a flare of desire. “Let’s wrap up this weekend so we can go home already. What do you suppose Butler is doing? We can’t just parade down there in the open. He’ll spot us, and we don’t have any backup.”

Vail spoke between bites. “We’ll leave the car parked out here, if you don’t mind the hike. I’m not sure how far that driveway goes.” He demolished his quick breakfast, dumping the apple core into the empty wrapper and storing it for later disposal. Reaching into the backseat, he retrieved a 35mm camera. Then he pushed open his car door and got out.

Marla followed suit. “At least it isn’t too hot yet,” she said, listening to birds twittering in the still morning air.

“Don’t talk too loudly out here. Our voices may carry,” Vail warned.

They tramped along the cracked asphalt on the tree-lined drive. The cool temperature made her glad she’d worn a scoop-neck sweater with her jeans and canvas shoes.

As they proceeded toward a cluster of buildings, smells of bacon and toast reached her nostrils. Saliva pooled under her tongue. Their walk had already used up the calories she’d consumed from her nutrient bar earlier that morning. Careful to watch her footing, she trudged along the side of the road, remaining under cover of live oaks laced with Spanish moss. Gray tangles tickled her nose.

“Do you think the workers live here in some kind of dormitory?” she asked, figuring them for a migrant labor force.

“That depends on whether this is just a holding station or their final destination.”

Marla didn’t like that word, final. What happened to these people after the growing season ended? As they neared the farmhouse, her eyes widened. “Are those men holding guns?”

Vail’s arm shot out, bringing her to a halt “Get back.”

She stood frozen, gawking at one of the workmen being dragged from the van, then beaten. Standing nonchalantly nearby, Butler conferred with a mustachioed man who muttered into a cell phone. When the fellow finished his call, the manager said something the other man appeared to dislike, gesturing wildly, spouting words Marla couldn’t hear. Vaguely aware that Vail had extended his telephoto lens and was snapping photos, she craned her neck for a better view.

Butler accepted an envelope that the man thrust at him. More laborers filed from the van, lining up docilely for inspection by gun-toting foremen. All wore hats that shaded their faces, so Marla couldn’t see their expressions, but their grungy clothes over muscular bodies made them look dangerous.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered. “Did you get enough pictures?”

“I think so. In any event, Butler is liable to return soon. He’ll spot us on the road. We’d better cut through that cornfield.”

Sawlike leaves hacked at her clothing as they retreated past the oaks to a dirt-packed trail lined with tall cornstalks. They’d walked for about five minutes when Marla noticed the direction of the sun had changed.

Wiping perspiration from her brow, she shaded her face to scan the path ahead. She couldn’t see beyond the plants. “I don’t think we’re heading back to the road.” Her skin itched, and her parched throat longed for a drink. A dunk in the ocean now would bring welcome relief.

Vail withdrew a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket and plunked them on his nose. “You’re right. Let’s try this way,” he said when they came to an intersection.

They charged ahead, and suddenly the cornfield ended. In front of them were rows of tomato plants that offered no cover. Laborers bent to harvest the green fruits, and mean-looking henchmen ranged among them.

“Uh oh, we don’t want to be here.” Vail tugged Marla back into the cornfield.

“What if Butler finds our car parked by the road?” she said, urgency riddling her voice. She was hot, hungry, and craved a glass of water. Lost in the maze, they might get stuck there for hours. Stumbling over a piece of coral, she yelped when her foot agitated an anthill.

An answering shout came from behind, followed by a crack and a rush of air.

“They’re shooting at us.” Vail grabbed her arm and yanked her forward.

They careened around a corner. After a series of turns, Marla gasped when they reached a dead end. A perpendicular row of stalks faced them without a break in sight.

“Hold on, I know a trick that will help,” Vail said. “Ever use your watch as a compass?” He squinted at his wrist dial. “Point the hour hand at the sun. Midway between that point and twelve o’clock on your watch indicates a south heading. Here, this should be the right direction,” he said, gesturing.

Following his lead, Marla trudged down an alley between towering plants until they finally emerged onto the main road. She breathed a sigh of relief. Vail’s car stood unmolested where they’d left it.

After he unlocked the doors and checked for booby traps, she crumbled into her seat. Her eyes closed when he turned on the ignition and a whoosh of air-conditioning blasted her chest. She barely had the strength to fasten her seat belt. Too exhausted to speak, she sank back against the cushions while Vail made a U-turn and headed west.

She heard him dial a number on his cell phone, ask for Hamilton, and in terse sentences explain what they’d observed. After a brief exchange, he hung up. Marla gave him a questioning glance.

“It’ll take him some time to get warrants. He says to sit tight. In the meantime, we’ll mingle with your relatives. Butler still might not realize how much we know, and there’s always safety in numbers.”

“But he caught me last night, and he’ll realize I’ve escaped. He won’t want me providing information to the cops.”

“He didn’t kill you outright, so he must have some other purpose in mind for you. I’m betting it relates to your family.”

“Why? Because he still hopes to find Grandfather’s loot? Why would he think I know something more than anyone else?”

“Maybe you do.” He tilted his head. “You never finished reading Polly’s letters.”

Marla stiffened. “Oh yeah. Let’s see what they say.” She opened his glove compartment and withdrew the stack they’d put there for safekeeping. Then her phone rang, so she stuffed the packet into her purse to examine later.

“Hi, Ma,” she said upon hearing Anita’s lilting tone.

“Aren’t you going to the outlet mall with us today, angel? I thought you wanted to go shopping.”

“I’m kinda tired, so I think I’ll relax at the resort. What’s scheduled for later?” She didn’t like to be herded, although today was her last day with the family. Everyone would be leaving tomorrow.

“Tonight’s the seafood buffet, followed by dancing under the stars,” Anita said. “Dalton told me he particularly wants to rock-and-roll with you in the moonlight.”

Marla laughed. “You must be kidding. I have to pull him onto the dance floor.”

“Well, you’d better be there,” her mother ordered. “Don’t get into any trouble while we’re gone this afternoon. And save some energy for your honeymoon.” Chuckling, Anita clicked off.

Marla gave Vail a doleful glance. “Ma probably thinks we’re still in our room. She can’t know how unromantic this weekend has been. I’m sorry. Next time we go away together, I promise nothing will interfere.”

His searing gaze boosted her hormones. “I’ll hold you to that, sweetcakes.”

Hamilton was waiting for them when they arrived back at the resort. He commandeered Vail for a tour of the tunnels and posted a couple of his officers to keep a lookout for Butler. The manager hadn’t yet returned. Marla suggested he might have gone home.

“We have someone watching his house,” Hamilton said. His brusque tone indicated his displeasure at spending his weekend on duty. Or maybe he was just frustrated by the lack of evidence surrounding his cases. All he needed was for one witness to crack, Marla thought.

“Do you want me to look for Wanda?” she asked Vail. “She might respond to me better than a police interview, and I’d like to know she’s safe.”

He laid a hand on her arm. “You can either go to our room and make sure all the exits are secure”—he winked meaningfully—“or stay by the pool where people can see you. Don’t wander off by yourself.”

“It’ll be lunchtime soon. You’ve hardly eaten all morning. You need something to fill your stomach. “Playing the nurturer made her feel more in control.

“I’ll worry about what I need, but I don’t want to worry about you. Understand?”

“I could go with you.”

“Why don’t you get cleaned up and have a bite to eat yourself? Let me just show John what we’ve found behind the scenes, and then I’ll join you.”

Marla acquiesced without further argument, because she wanted to read the rest of Polly’s letters. She couldn’t concentrate until she’d showered and ordered a meal from room service, however. She didn’t feel like dining alone in any of the restaurants or at the pool snack bar. One of her relatives might snag her and then she’d never get to Polly’s packet.

She couldn’t stay secluded in her room either, though. It was too beautiful outside. After downing her lunch—a chicken Caesar salad—and changing into black slacks, a turquoise top, and sandals, she packed her valuables into a large straw bag and headed outdoors.

The beach drew her with its fresh sea air, soothing swoosh of the waves, and sunbaked sands. Having doused herself with coconut-scented sunscreen, she settled onto a lounge chair and withdrew the letters. Her spot was isolated enough to give her privacy, yet within screaming distance of other patrons in case a threat materialized. Though she didn’t think it would, not with the police patroling the grounds and rooting out Butler’s associates.