Bad Hair Day 7 - Dead Roots (5 page)

“It’s awfully strange that Andrew died right after those two visitors came. Didn’t anyone question them?” Cynthia queried.

“They vanished, never to be seen again. If you ask me, I think my father’s past came back to haunt him. We never heard much about his childhood or how he got out of Poland. Or where he got the money to buy the plantation. Maybe he stole it, and those two guys traced him to Florida to recover their loot.”

“If Andrew’s spirit inhabits the hotel, he’s guarding his secrets well,” Marla said.

Her attention diverted to Rochelle, who had sashayed to Vail’s side. The young lady wore a rose sweater and short black skirt with outrageously high-heeled strappy sandals. Vail’s mouth quirked into a half-smile as he nodded a greeting to Marla’s second cousin. Or, wait a minute—was Rochelle a second cousin, or a first cousin once removed? She’d have to look up family relationships when she had spare time. What mattered now was reminding her fiancé why he’d come here: to meet her relatives, not be seduced by one of them.

“Did anyone meet those paranormal researchers?” she asked in a loud tone. “The manager hired them to search for spooks. I heard the top floor of the tower has remained uninhabited since Andrew’s death. Maybe no one wants to stay there because it’s haunted. Where did Ruth live while she managed the hotel?”

“Where did I live? Land’s sake, child, I stayed with Mama,” Polly said in a clear, cold voice. Hobbling into the room, the elderly lady, wearing a flowered blouse and a navy skirt, paused to survey their assembly. Her face was flushed, and her hair disheveled. Marla thought she looked as if she’d been outdoors in the wind.

Polly waggled a finger at her brother. “Shame on you, Moishe, spreading rumors about the family. It isn’t ghosts I’d worry about, if I were you. Things here are worth investigating, but they have nothing to do with the spirit world.”

“A painter fell off his ladder today. He’d been outside Oleander Hall,” Marla said, hoping Polly might shed light on the incident.

“Whassat?” Polly’s face scrunched. “Y’all want to go outside to the pool? It’s too breezy.”

“Didn’t you want help looking for something?” Marla asked, moving closer so she could shout into Polly’s ear. She’d rather avoid mentioning details with so many onlookers.

“You’re looking fine, niece. Don’t worry so much about what you wear. It’s what’s in here that matters.” Polly patted her heart. “Who is this?” she said, regarding Vail quizzically from behind her spectacles.

“Aunt Polly, I’d like you to meet Dalton Vail. We’re engaged.”

The older woman caught those words without a problem because her expression brightened. “
Mazel tov
! It’s about time you settled down. Getting long in the tooth, you are, so you should be grateful he’ll take you. Mind you, the fella had better treat you right. Come here, young man.”

Marla grinned. Silver streaks glinted in Vail’s black hair, but she supposed Polly considered them both babes in the woods at her age. Her mother chose that moment to enter, followed by Marla’s brother, Michael, and his wife, Charlene, with their two children. More hugs, kisses, and murmured greetings.

“What do you mean, you never had a bar mitzvah?” Polly said in a rising tone.

Marla whirled around from where she’d been admiring her niece and nephew. Polly’s face looked as though she had sucked a lemon and swallowed the pits. Oh no. Marla strode to her beloved’s side, preparing to defend him. He stood rigid, an impassive mask freezing his features.

“Marla, you’re marrying a
goy
? How could you betray us like this?
Oy gevald
, you’ll ruin the family.” Polly’s voice dissolved into a wail, an unintelligible stream of Yiddish words.

“Aunt Polly, don’t insult my fiancé. He’s a fine man, and we love each other. Isn’t that more important? You’re always saying you want me to be happy.”

“
Gai avek
!” Polly shrieked, backing away.

“Don’t you talk to my daughter like that,” Anita said, grabbing Polly’s arm. “I’m thrilled for her, and you should be, too. Dalton loves her, and that’s all that matters.”

“What’s the matter? You know very well we can’t dilute the bloodline any further.” Shaking herself free from Anita, Polly raked her younger sister with a scornful look.

“Interfaith marriages can work if both people respect each other’s traditions,” Anita insisted. ‘You’re the one who’s disrupted our reunion, just when we’re supposed to be making peace.”

“You’re
meshugeh
if you accept an outsider into our midst, but then what else can I expect from you? You run around with that
fresser
, Roger, flaunting yourself like a tramp. My own sister!
Feh, feh, feh
. To think I considered letting you in on the secret.” Polly swayed like a sapling in a strong wind. ‘You’ve made me ill. I’m going to my room.” Snagging Marla with a rheumy glare, she said, ‘You come up later, Missy. I’ll want a few words with you, and
he
better not be there.”

Polly teetered from the room, leaving stunned silence in her wake. Cynthia was the first to rush forward and grasp Vail’s hand. “Please forgive her outburst. Polly doesn’t reflect what the rest of us feel. We’re very happy to welcome you into the family. Aren’t we, everyone?”

Polite murmurs of agreement followed. Mortified, Marla clung to Vail’s arm as they proceeded to chat individually with each of her relatives. She was conscious of a small cluster from the Colorado contingent gossiping in a corner. Knowing she wasn’t the only cousin who’d married outside her faith, Marla hadn’t thought anyone would care. They’d change their minds once they got to know Dalton, she reassured herself. Meanwhile, she needed to soothe his bruised ego.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him later at dinner in the steakhouse restaurant, where they’d been seated at a quiet table for two. “Polly has her own views about religion. I should have warned you.”

He regarded her from across the table, looking more handsome than ever. Her heart ached that he’d undergone such humiliation.

“Don’t blame yourself; you did warn me that Polly was a character. Coming here, I realized we might have some hurdles to overcome. That’s another reason why I thought it best not to bring Brianna.” He spoke in a subdued tone, but then his intense gray eyes softened. “Besides, I’m marrying you, not your family.”

Wrong
. When you wed someone, you joined their whole
mishpocheh
. People didn’t live in isolation, although she supposed family feuds had begun for less. What about Ruth and her siblings? Why had her grandmother sectioned herself off from them after Andrew died? She’d hoped to ask Polly about the interrelationships, but now she might not get the chance. She’d go to her aunt later to smooth over their disagreement and learn what she could, Marla resolved.

“You’re so wonderful,” Marla said to Vail, meaning it. That he could bypass his discomfort to focus on her meant a lot.

He swirled the cabernet in his wineglass, studying her from beneath bushy brows. “And you’re so hot in that dress that maybe we should skip our meal and go upstairs.”

“Nonsense. You have the appetite of a horse. Two appetizers, plus a salad and entree? I guess you didn’t eat much at the cocktail party after Polly raked you over the coals.”

“I lost my appetite,” he agreed, “but I’ve regained it now…for other things.” The hunger in his eyes told her exactly what he referred to, and her body responded.

Thank goodness he could overlook the foibles of her family. She only hoped when it came her turn to meet his side that she could behave with as much grace. From hints he’d let drop, it appeared his parents might have difficulty accepting a Jewish bride into the fold. Marla decided she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. For now, dealing with her own family problems took precedence.

On their way upstairs, Marla halted by the tower elevator. “If you don’t mind,” she said to Vail, “I’d like to have a word with Aunt Polly about her behavior tonight. I won’t tolerate her treating you so rudely.”

“I expect we all have folks like her in our families. Don’t worry about it, sweetcakes. As long as we face things together, we’ll be fine.” Lifting a strand of her hair, Vail tucked it behind her ear.

She smiled at his tender gesture. “You’re so special, you know that?” Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him. “Come on, let’s go to our room. I’ll prove how much I enjoy being with you.”

“Wait. Maybe you
should
go see Polly. The old lady knows more about this place than anyone else in your family. She might have an idea why people are dying. They may be poor laborers, but that’s no reason for the local boys to look the other way. Something is fishy here.”

Marla nodded. “I get the feeling that if I just understood what happened in the past, it would clarify the present. I’d like to ask Polly about Andrew.”

“What about him?” The elevator arrived, and Vail opened the inner grating for her. She didn’t step inside right away.

“Andrew requested his humidor when those two strangers visited him. I’m wondering what happened to his possessions after he died. Did Ruth store them on-site, divide them among her children, or sell them?”

Vail tilted his head. “Good luck getting your aunt to talk. And take your time,” he said with a wry twist to his lips. “I’ll catch the latest scores on TV while you’re gone.”

Just like a man to be more eager to watch sports than to be romantic
. “Aren’t you coming with me? You can get off on the fourth floor.”

Closing the gate after she’d entered, he regarded her through the ironwork. “Are you kidding? This thing is haunted. Ask the ghost what he wants. Maybe he’ll reveal the hotel’s secrets.”

Shuddering as the outer door sealed shut, Marla pushed the button for the twelfth floor. At least this time, she didn’t feel a chill or smell anything strange. Nonetheless, she gripped the inner rail as the car made its rattling ascent.

The door opened onto a carpeted hallway just as Marla recalled Polly saying she kept a suite here but didn’t sleep in the tower. She wondered why Polly felt the need to revisit these rooms but didn’t feel comfortable enough to stay overnight. Her skin crawled as she proceeded through a series of dimly lit chambers consisting of formal parlors, a private dining area, a smoking room or library, depending on who inhabited it, and a master bedroom with separate his and her dressing rooms and baths. Most of the furniture, characteristic of the 1920s, remained in fairly decent condition, and the rooms were clean. Despite their vacancy, Marla didn’t notice any cobwebs or dust. Someone must be coming in regularly to clean.

Wondering where to find Polly, Marla paused by a woman’s dressing table, inhaling a fragrance of lilacs in the small space while she admired a silver hand mirror and hairbrush set. Something flashed in the glass, making her turn quickly, but no one stood behind her.

The lamps dimmed briefly, then brightened. Footsteps, faint at first, sounded overhead before passing to the right.
Polly must be upstairs
, she thought with some relief, starting for the elevator shaft. Perhaps her aunt kept these rooms so she could explore Andrew’s suite on the top floor without interference.

Glad to retrace her route, Marla had just pushed the button to call the lift when she heard a murmur of voices. Whipping around, she saw nothing but the empty corridor stretching into the distance. Portraits lined the silk-covered walls. Her ancestors? She felt their energy expanding, surrounding her.

That elevator was taking too damn long. Marla turned back to push the button again when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She nearly leapt out of her skin. “Who’s there?” she cried, afraid to get an answer. A quick look affirmed her isolation. Still skeptical about the existence of spirits, she nevertheless had to admit the possibility of otherworldly phenomena. They weren’t something she cared to encounter, however.

When the elevator arrived, she decided not to explore the tower penthouse until she ascertained Polly’s location. At the lobby desk, she got directions to the room where Polly spent her nights. Her aunt stayed in Jasmine Hall on the fourth floor, facing Oleander across an expanse of shrubbery. Sure enough, Polly was in her room when Marla showed up.

“Marla, it’s about time.” Polly let her in, then shut the door. “You’re late.” She still wore the same skirt and blouse from earlier, although Marla noted she’d exchanged her shoes for scruffy slippers. It looked as though she’d kicked off her dress shoes under the luggage rack. A trail of sand marked their path. Sand?

“I didn’t realize you were expecting me at a specific time,” Marla said.

“I told you there was something you have to do for me.” It appeared Polly had forgotten her disapproval over Marla’s choice of a mate. “I need you to help me find it.”

Marla glanced at the clothes flung over the queen-size bed. Her aunt, in her confused state, had likely misplaced an article of clothing. Here she’d been hoping Polly would tell her the story of Andrew’s treasure, while Polly just needed her services as a maid.

Marla’s gaze swept the bottles containing an unfamiliar liquid and tablets by the nightstand. She hadn’t been aware Polly took prescription medicines, but, then, she’d just recently convinced Polly to add her name to the checking account so Marla could pay her bills. These things took time, especially when her elderly aunt didn’t recognize that she needed assistance. So why did she insist on Marla’s presence now?

“What can I do to help you?” she asked. “Get you ready for bed? Give you a shower?” Marla’s concerned glance surveyed the older woman’s frail body. If she’d worked undercover as a nurse’s aide for Miriam Pearl, she could certainly assist her own aunt with personal hygiene. Although if Polly needed that level of care, she had no business living alone.

“No, child, sit down.” Polly sank onto the bed and indicated a space by her side. “I need you to help me find the stones.”

Oh no. Was Polly losing it again? “What stones?”

“Daddy’s stash. I know he didn’t spend it all. He hid them from those interlopers.”

Her heartbeat accelerated. Now they were getting somewhere. “Go on.”

“When you read my letters, you’ll understand.” Polly’s rheumy eyes looked at Marla in bewilderment. “I can’t remember where I put them. Oh dear. I wouldn’t want the wrong people to get hold of them.”

“What letters do you mean?”

“The ones I wrote to Vincent. Listen to me, child. If you find the gems, you can use them to fix things in the family. It’s our chance to make up for Mama’s mistakes.”

Marla felt hopelessly lost. “Who is Vincent?”

“Whassat? I don’t smell any mint scent. What’s the matter with you? Did you have too much to drink tonight?”

“Tell me more about Andrew’s stones.” Raising her voice, Marla carefully enunciated each word.

“Be careful when you’re searching for them. Others smell the scent. But that’s not the real trouble here.” Polly’s eyes narrowed. “They’re terribly wrong in what they’re doing. Greedy bloodsuckers.
Ain foiler epel farfoilt di ander
. One rotten apple spoils the bunch. Mark my words.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’ve lost sight of what this place is about. When you find the gems, you’ll buy back what’s ours and spread the rest among the family. If only I could remember where I put my letters.” Her hands, blue veins prominent under paper-thin skin, grasped Marla’s dress. “Find them, child.”

Flabbergasted, Marla stared at her aunt. She had no idea what Polly meant. Letters? Gemstones? How did these things relate to what was happening today?

“Can you explain more about Vincent perhaps? I need to understand better in order to help you.”

Scrunching her face, Polly peered at her. “Don’t coddle me, young lady. My time has come, so it’s your responsibility now.”

Before Marla could ask more questions, a knock sounded at the door. Sliding off the bed, she strode over to see who was calling at this late hour. A large woman wearing surgical scrubs met her gaze. Marla got a quick glimpse of ash blond hair in short curls, crystal blue eyes, and a wide mouth before the middle-aged woman brushed past her.

“Howdy, ma’am,” she addressed Polly in a chirpy voice. “I’ve been sent to help you get ready for bed.”

“Whassat?”

“I’m from Health Corps Staffing Services. This is a courtesy visit. I guess one of your relatives hired me as a sort of gift. You wouldn’t turn away such a generous gesture, now, would you?”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Marla gushed, noting Polly’s change in expression. “You can use the help, Aunt Polly, just for the one night. Forgive me for being cautious,” she told the nurse, “but may we see some identification?”

“You don’t have to stay,” the woman said to Marla after she’d checked her ID. “I’ll take good care of the dear lady.”

“I can look after myself,” Polly grumbled. “Whoever hired you, give them their money back. Was it Anita?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Ask your mother if she’s up to her old tricks,” Polly shouted at Marla. “If this is her doing…”

Marla didn’t wait to hear the rest. She flew out the door, shutting it behind her so Polly wouldn’t have any choice except to comply. In the hallway, she realized she’d been clenching her teeth. Forcing herself to relax, she called Vail on her cell phone while approaching the elevator.

“I’ve just finished talking to Polly,” she told him, hearing the television in the background. “I’m going to take a brief walk before I come upstairs. Do you mind? I need some fresh air.”

She needed more than that, Marla thought as she pushed open an exit door on the ground floor. Outside, a cool sea breeze ruffled the hairs on her arms and brought a salty taste to her tongue. Crickets sang their nightly chorus as she proceeded over a gravel path, her ears picking up the distant swoosh of waves. Through the ages, this place had seen many tragedies. What secrets did it still hide?

Polly had mentioned Andrew’s stash: stones or gems. Reverse the order, and put them together. Could his source of wealth have been valuable gemstones? She hadn’t gotten the chance to ask Polly about her grandfather’s origins. How had he escaped from Poland and made his way to the United States? Had he been a victim of persecution? Not necessarily, if he’d been a student at the University of Warsaw. He’d graduated as an architect. Those skills would come in handy in his new country, but instead of landing a job, he’d met Ruth, married, and moved to Florida. By then, he had the cash to purchase thirty-five hundred acres of a thriving plantation. If he’d brought jewels from the old country, that could account for his immediate wealth. It could also provide a reason for his leaving Poland if he’d stolen them. And that scenario tied in with the two strangers who spoke with heavy accents. They must have tracked the thief and come to confront him.

What had happened in the midst of their meeting to make them disappear and cause Andrew to flee the room in distress? Could the remainder of the jewels have been hidden in the humidor that Andrew had requested? Maybe he’d offered the remaining gems to the visitors to appease them, in which case there was nothing left to be found. Or had the humidor simply contained tobacco, and something more sinister had befallen Andrew’s guests?

She needed more information on Oleander Hall in terms of its reconstruction. Maybe things were buried there that someone regarded as best left alone. Tearing down the place might expose old bones, for example. But how would ancient history shed light on today’s events? Or was there simply no connection?

Polly had also exhorted Marla to find some letters she’d written. If her aunt couldn’t remember where she put them, how was Marla to find them? Perhaps the letters were what her aunt had been searching for on the fourteenth floor.

Watching her footing around a jagged piece of coral rock, Marla compressed her lips. Like it or not, she’d have to return to the top levels of the tower to conduct her search.

She hoped the home health aide would be able to appease the older woman. Hiring her had been a gesture of kindness, but who had thought of it? Marla’s mother? Uncle Moishe? No matter. Polly could use the help, even if she blustered her denial. Her condition had deteriorated even more than Marla had realized. When they got home, she’d have to see about hiring someone full-time.

Sparse ground lighting made it difficult to discern her location, but when she glanced up, she noted Oleander Hall rose directly in front of her. Her steps had carried her toward the condemned wing. Many of the windows had accumulated a coating of grime and salt deposits from the briny air. Butler had ordered the other side painted to spruce up the building for visitors, but apparently not this end, because it still bore the ravages of time and weather. Those roof tiles looked as though they were about ready to tumble to the ground.

Her gaze caught a light waving in an upper window. Squinting, she tried to define its shape. Maybe if she moved a few paces to the right…Her back collided with something solid, and she cried out. An answering curse made her ears ring.

“Marla, what are you doing here?” said Jeffrey Levine, cousin Lori’s husband.

Marla turned to regard him, about to ask the same question, when she noticed a dark-haired beauty clinging to his arm. They sprang guiltily apart.

“I needed some fresh air,” Marla explained. “And you?” She gave the woman a pointed glare.

“We were discussing the menus for Friday,” Jeff said. “This is Brittany Butterworth. She’s the resort pastry chef.”

“My friends call me Brownie,” the lady said in a syrupy tone.

“Oh, really?”
I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth, Jeff. Was it desserts you were discussing, or a different kind of honey
? The woman certainly exuded feminine appeal, with wide, dark almond-shaped eyes framed by a waterfall of ebony hair that hung to her waist. She wore a sarong that wouldn’t suit well in the kitchen but would work just fine in the bedroom. As her nickname implied, the chef presented a sweet confection that men must feel tempted to sample. Marla’s nose detected a familiar lilac fragrance.