Bad Hair Day 7 - Dead Roots (9 page)

A veil slipped over the pastry chef’s expression. “With all these ghost stories, Seto must have seen something. He’s been taking care of this place forever. I think his goal is to join the spooks when his time comes.” Her sultry laughter trailed off as she strode away, leaving Marla staring after her.

How peculiar. Did Brownie know about Andrew’s legacy, including his gems? Was that why she coddled the groundskeeper, to learn what he knew about the lost wealth?

Compressing her lips, Marla emerged from the trees in front of a Bahamian-style cottage painted coral with white shutters. It had a modest porch holding ceiling fans, a couple of patio chairs, and a worn welcome mat. The jalousie windows were open to let in a fresh breeze.

As she climbed the steps, she heard the old man’s voice talking loudly. Either he had another visitor, or he was on the phone. While she stood frozen, debating whether she should ring the bell or leave, she couldn’t help overhearing his words.

“Sending your spy won’t get anything out of me, sonny. You haven’t found what you’re looking for before, and you won’t find it now. A pretty face don’t sway me, even if she is a good cook. I been here so long that I’m a fixture. I seen plenty, but what’s past is best lain to rest.”

He cleared phlegm from his throat. “Of course I agree with Butler. Old bones are better left buried. A bit of plaster, some fresh paint, modern plumbing, and we’re back in business. You tell me whose side you’re on.”

He paused to listen, then his voice rose. “I’m not a fool. I know who you are. It’s stamped on your features as bright as day. The apple don’t fall far from the tree, sonny. If you’re here to cause trouble, be warned that I’ll stop you. Ain’t no doubt about it, yes sirree.”

After Mulch slammed down the receiver, Marla counted to five slowly before punching the doorbell. Tramping footsteps heralded his approach, then the door swung wide to reveal the old man chewing on a celery stick. In the fading sunlight, she noticed the creases in his face had deepened so that he appeared fatigued.

“Sorry to bother you on a holiday,” Marla began, “but I wanted to have a word with you. Do you have a few minutes?”

“I suppose I can listen while my meal is heatin’ in the oven.” Signaling for her to enter, he stood aside for her to pass. Inside, Marla faced a cozy living room with comfortable furnishings, old-fashioned lamps, and a scent of pine and woodsmoke. Her glance lit on the fireplace, its interior blackened from use.

An image popped into her mind of Polly’s room at the hotel. A fireplace adorned one wall. Was that where she’d seen the moving shadow? Marla hadn’t thought twice about it at the time. The recess appeared decorative rather than functional, but that wasn’t unusual in Florida. Fake logs deluded transplanted northerners into believing they still lived in a cold climate. Her room didn’t have a fireplace, nor did Anita’s.

“Something wrong?” the old guy asked her, swallowing a last bite on his stalk.

Sure, let’s start with that conversation you just had on the telephone. Was Brownie the spy you were referring to? Who were you addressing as sonny? What did you mean, old bones were best left buried?

“Oh no, I was just admiring your place,” she said aloud. “How long have you lived here?”

He gave a hearty chuckle. “Ever since I can remember. My daddy worked for Rutfield before Andrew Marks took over. Andrew brought in fresh money and fixed things up. I was so excited when he hired me. Hard to believe I started as a busboy in the main dining room, ain’t it? I was fifteen then, back in 1927. Those were the good ole days.”

Marla did a quick calculation, putting him at ninety-two years old. “Andrew was my grandfather. They say he had some mysterious visitors the night he died.”

“Everyone wants to hear that tale.” Glaring at her with sharp eyes, he seemed in no hurry to elaborate. His handsome features, although sporting the ravages of time, indicated he must have charmed the ladies in his day. White brows rose above a well-defined nose and firm lips. His skin, tanned from years in the sun, held scars that were likely from removed skin cancers, a common occurrence in the sunny South.

“Aunt Polly requested my help,” Marla said. “I understand she’s been returning to the resort every year since her mother, Ruth, sold the property.”

The groundskeeper’s expression softened. “Oh, if Polly sent you…Why don’t you take a seat. What’s your name again?”

“Marla Shore.” She didn’t know if he remembered the manager introducing them.

“Poor gal. My Polly hasn’t had an easy time of it.”

His
Polly? “I imagine you felt close to the family, growing up here as you did.”

“After my daddy passed on, it was up to me to keep the place in shape.” He grinned proudly, showing yellowed teeth.

“Andrew must have relied on you a great deal. My aunt has been searching for something she feels rightfully belongs to us. I’m wondering if you know what she means?”

A look of pain entered his eyes. “Polly will never find her heart’s desire, because Vincent took it from her.”

“Who’s Vincent?” Marla demanded. “Aunt Polly told me about him, but I still don’t know who he is. She wrote some letters that she said Vincent may have taken.”

“Impossible. She wrote them after he’d gone. I’m surprised Polly even mentioned his name after the grief he caused. I’d steer clear of the subject if
I
were you.” Anger laced his tone, arousing Marla’s curiosity even more.

“What’s in those letters?”

“Stuff.”

His guarded look prompted her next comment. “It’s gallant of you to protect her privacy, but she wanted my help,” Marla reminded him. “Is it just the letters she wants me to find, or something more?”

Mulch didn’t seem to hear her, or else he’d gotten lost in daydreams of the past. “Polly was cute as a button when I first laid eyes on her,” he said with a sad wag of his head. “You know how they say familiarity breeds contempt? I was like the big brother she never had. She trailed after me once I finished waitin’ on tables and went to pitch in at the fields. We both loved the land, and Polly liked to get down and dirty with the flowers and such. She was like a fresh bloom herself, all curled up and ready to open to womanhood. But she never saw me as nothin’ more than a hired hand.”

Why, you old sot. You fell in love with Polly. “And Vincent?”

“His name ain’t worthy of discussion.”

“Why would he be interested in Polly’s letters? What was his relation to her?”

Compressing his lips, Mulch shook his head.

“I heard Andrew paid cash to purchase the plantation,” she said, changing tactics. A dry throat made her voice raspy. After the heavy afternoon meal, she needed a drink of water.

“You heard right.”

“If he immigrated to this country a couple of years before, he couldn’t have brought much money with him. I understand he’d been a student at University of Warsaw. How could he have acquired such wealth in so short a time?”

“Where he got the dough wasn’t my concern.”

“Maybe not, but did it interest those strangers who turned up one night in 1943?”

Mulch clasped his gnarled hands. “Those two fellows arrived outta the blue and asked to see the boss. They wore funny hats and spoke with accents. Andrew got upset when I told him two men had come to see him, and they looked like foreigners.”

“Why was that?”

“Appears he was expecting ‘em.
I always knew they’d find me
, that’s what he muttered under his breath. He said he’d speak to them privately in the parlor. They were in there for a while before Andrew sent for his tobacco.”

“Oh yes, the humidor.”

“Next thing we know, the boss heads to his suite, where he takes sick. Three days later, he’s six feet under.”

Marla leaned forward. “And the two men?”

Staring into space, Mulch didn’t answer at first. “Gone.”

“Gone where? Did anyone see them leave?”

“No ma’am.”

“Maybe they’re still here, and their ghosts are haunting the hotel.”

He looked at her through lowered brows. “Are you believing that hogwash Butler spreads around?”

“I’ve felt Andrew’s spirit in the tower elevator.”

“Oh yeah? Mebbe so. Or mebbe ghosts are part of this theme-park mystique.”

“The theme park hasn’t been built yet.”

“No?” They stared at each other while Marla got the feeling she was missing the point.

“How about the accident yesterday? Some say a spook pushed the painter off his ladder.”

“Ain’t no spooks doin’ bad deeds around here. Ruthie would turn over in her grave if she knew what went on.”

“What’s that?” Marla asked, leaning forward.

“It’s best you don’t know. Tell Polly to stop her snooping, too. She may be searchin’ for her letters or the gold at the end of the rainbow, but all she’ll find is trouble.”

Gold? Did he mean that literally or figuratively?

“My aunt took ill last night. When she didn’t show up for Thanksgiving dinner this afternoon, I went to her room to check on her. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it appears she’d died in her sleep.” Sleep induced by an overdose of morphine, perhaps.

The analogy jumped out at her: Polly, taking sick in her room and dying alone.
Just like Andrew
.

A chill wind passed over her, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms. Was history repeating itself for a reason?

Polly…dead!” Mulch leapt to his feet, the stricken look on his face confirming his feelings toward her aunt.

“I’m sorry. I realize you were fond of her.”

“It’s more than that I’ve held my tongue out of respect. Now I can have my say.”

“What do you mean?” Marla rose to face him.

“Never you mind.” Ushering her toward the door, he said, “Make sure you bury your aunt proper. She was a fine lady.”

At the threshold, Marla halted. “I’m surprised the chef didn’t tell you about Polly when she brought your dinner. Then again, I’m also wondering why Brownie delivered your meal. Don’t her duties usually confine her to the kitchen?”
Unless she’s spying for someone. What did she think Mulch knew?

“You’d best ask the woman herself.”

If his glowering look was meant to send her away, Marla ignored it. “My aunt requested a tray brought to her room, and Harvey Lyle served it. Why didn’t he bring yours?”

“Mebbe he just delivers to guests. I’m on staff.”

“Oh, I see.” The notion struck her that Polly may have been dead already when someone called to order her tray. “Did you order a nurse’s aide to care for Polly last night?”

Mulch pushed the door open. “Polly ain’t never needed no help. She may have been a bit drafty in the attic lately, but she managed okay.”

“Last night, a nurse’s aide showed up at her room and said someone had sent her as a gift. None of my relatives claimed responsibility.”

His eyes narrowed. “Describe this woman.”

“She had a fairly large build and blond hair…” Hair that could have been a wig, she realized belatedly.

Mulch’s bony hand gripped her arm. “Polly had no right to get you involved. Leave this to me, young lady. Go now.”

Dismissed, Marla sought Vail at the resort. She found him reclining in their room watching football on television. Not again! A frown of annoyance creased her forehead while she tossed her purse on the dresser and slipped off her shoes.

“Where have you been?” she asked him. “I left you a note. You could have called me on your cell phone.”

Vail’s eyebrows lifted. “I thought it was obvious that I was hanging around the investigation. I convinced the medical examiner to do an autopsy. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

She bit her lower lip. “Don’t tell my mother. She might be upset. I’d just as soon see Polly buried peacefully, but then I’d be left with too many questions. So you did the right thing, Dalton. I’m glad someone listened to your advice this time. Will they share the report with you?”

He nodded. “I reminded them what a scion of the community Andrew had been when he was alive. Then Ruth kept the resort going afterward. This place provided most of the jobs for the townsfolk in earlier days. It’s payback time.”

Swinging his legs off the bed, he leveraged himself to his feet. “What happens now?”

“Ma will need my help packing Polly’s things. I should find her. I would expect she’ll cancel the rest of the weekend to sit shivah at home.”

“I dunno, your family’s planned this reunion for months. Polly would want you to stay together.”

“That’s true.” She closed the distance between them and gave him a quick kiss. He smelled like shampoo and spice aftershave. His hair, soft and fluffy, begged for her touch. A pirate sifting gold coins wouldn’t get as much of a thrill as she did fingering his silken strands.

Vail’s eyes burned with passion as he drew her closer. “Mm, you’re turning me on, sweetcakes.” Nuzzling her neck, he murmured into her ear. “Wanna learn some new routines from your personal trainer? I could show you a few hot moves.”

Her body tingled in all the right places. Maybe it was because she sought a relief from stress, but his offer struck the right chord. In no time, she’d shucked her clothes. Their lovemaking came fast and furious, no doubt providing a release valve for both of them.

“I love you, you know,” Vail said in his seductively low voice when they lazed naked in each other’s arms. “You make my life worthwhile.”

“I love you, too.” She stretched to kiss him on the mouth. “You’ve given me a different perspective on things. I never thought I’d
want
to take care of a man, let alone his child.” Stan had soured her on marriage, and Tammy’s death made her fear losing a child she loved. Now she felt ready to accept those risks. “You and Brie have changed my world to a better place.”

“We still haven’t set a date.”

“There’s no rush. I’m enjoying the slow progression.”

He stroked the swell of her breast. “I want you to be mine. Why put it off?”

“We haven’t decided where we’re going to live.”
Not in your house. I can’t compete with memories of your dead wife
.

“I’ve been thinking about that, and I figured—”

The phone rang. Marla jerked away, reaching for the receiver at the same time he did. What had he been about to say?

“Marla, where did you run off to earlier?” Anita’s voice snapped at her. “Michael called the funeral home and left a message on their machine. We want to arrange a memorial service for Polly.”

“You’ll have to wait until her body is released,” Marla said, always the pragmatist.

“I know, but we can get the ball rolling.”

“Too bad she never got a Pre-Need plan.”

“Polly never thought about doing anything for the sake of others. We’ll get a plot in the same cemetery where your father is buried.”

Hearing the strain in her mother’s voice, Marla said, “I’m sorry this occurred during what should have been a happy occasion. Are you canceling the rest of the weekend?”

“No. I’ve given it some thought and talked it over with Cynthia. Polly had a reason for us to be here. You’ll figure it out.”

I’m not doing too well so far
. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I know you’d rather stay behind closed doors with your beau, but you can’t shirk your duties entirely. I need you to help me go through Polly’s things. Mr. Butler claims she has stuff in the tower.”

Marla’s eyebrows lifted. That meant a return visit to the twelfth floor. “Where do you want to start?” She smiled at Vail as he traced a zigzag down her spine with his finger.

“In Jasmine Hall. That’ll be easier, and you may pick up on a clue the police overlooked. I’m not so sure Polly would have taken an overdose on purpose without concluding her business here this weekend.”

“Why was she taking a painkiller? Did you know she was ill?”

“Did Polly ever confide in me?” Anita countered. ‘That’s why I sent you to look after her. Anyone could see she was getting more frail, not to mention more forgetful. I hope the autopsy will tell us what plagued her.”

Marla’s jaw dropped. “You’re aware of that?”

“I’m not stupid. Your boyfriend spent an awfully long time in her room. He must’ve been convincing the cops that Polly’s death might be more than it seems. At times it’s useful to have a detective in the family.”

Marla’s heart soared. She’d never felt more cared for or more secure than she did right now with Vail beside her. ‘You’re right,” she said softly.

Her mother’s tone sharpened. “I learned something interesting. When I asked Mr. Butler why Polly kept a suite in the tower when she didn’t sleep there, he said it was her right. He murmured something about the terms of sale when Ruth transferred the property. It sounded like she retained partial ownership.”

“No kidding?”

“We should get a copy of the legal documents to see if we’re entitled to anything. Maybe this is why no one can rent rooms on the top two floors.”

“Wow,” Marla said. “Do you know what this means? If our family controls those levels, they can’t tear down the hotel without our permission.” Marla ruminated on the possibilities. That makes this whole theme-park discussion a moot point. The resort would have to be renovated.”

“What if Ruth made Polly her sole beneficiary?”

Marla lurched upright, mindful that Vail was ogling her nude body. ‘That’s an interesting idea. If Polly alone controlled the penthouse suites, she could have presented an obstacle to the sale. The hotel conglomerate couldn’t negotiate with the developers without her consent. Now that she’s gone, they can proceed with the deal. But how can we see if this is true?”

“It’s a holiday weekend, so I presume offices in town will be closed.”

“Cynthia’s husband is in the real estate business. I can ask Bruce to use his connections to get information.”

“I saw him hobnobbing with some of those city council people. Maybe he’s looking to buy property in the area.”

Who had told Marla that one of her relatives was considering investing in the theme park? An unpleasant suspicion germinated in her mind.

“There’s no rush in cleaning out the tower suites,” she said. “I’ve already taken a quick look at the twelfth floor. It smells like mold and has a lot of old furniture. I’d rather start in Polly’s room as you suggested.”

“I’ll meet you there,” her mother agreed.

Marla would rather search through Polly’s things on her own. “I know you’ve been wanting to spend time with Charlene and the kids. Why don’t you give her a call? There isn’t anything else scheduled until the movie tonight, so you have a few hours free. I can deal with Polly’s stuff. If I discover anything important, I’ll let you know.”

“It wouldn’t be right.”

“You need to relax, Ma. Don’t feel guilty.”

“Oh my, there is one thing I forgot.”

Marla felt a twinge of alarm. “What’s that?”

“Polly must have a will. Did you ever get into her safety deposit box at the bank?”

“She let me in once. All I saw were stock certificates, the deed to her condo, and some bond funds.” Vail tickled her side, and she suppressed a giggle. “If no one can find a will, I suppose you and your brothers would inherit. She has substantial cash in her bank accounts.”