Dangerous Secrets (22 page)

‶
Blood loss, trauma. Need I say
more?″

‶
I suppose you guys are going to
take off?″ she said, sounding grumpy

‶
Just to give you some peace and
quiet.″

‶
I guess you′re right. But
I feel like I′m missing out on all the fun.″

‶
Believe me, there′s been
a serious lack of so far on this trip,″ Richard said. That, at least,
made Maggie smile.

Richard grabbed his jacket and headed for the
door.

‶
Give me a minute, will you,
bro?″

He smiled.
‶
Sure. See you later,
Maggie.″ He closed the door behind him.

‶
Are you coming back
tonight?″ she asked.

‶
I don′t know, Maggs.
I′d like to find out who killed Eileen before we leave. If I can,
I′ll be back to spend the night with you.″

‶
Jeff, let the police handle it.
It′s what they get paid for.″

I put the envelope on the bedside table.
‶
I
know.″

‶
And don′t take any stupid
chances.″

‶
You worry too much.″

‶
After all that′s
happened, I think it′s justified.″

I opened my wallet, disappointed to find only
eleven dollars. I took out the two bills and crushed them into Maggie′s
palm.
‶
In
case we miss you for dinner, there′s a diner on the other side of the
office. It′s open
‵
til eight. If they′ve got room service, use
it.″

‶
What about tomorrow
morning?″ she reminded me.
‶
Are we really going to
leave?″

‶
Yes.”

She studied my face, looking skeptical.
‶
Why
don′t I believe you?″

‶
We will.″ I gave her a
quick kiss.
‶
I
gotta go.″

‶
If you′re going to be too
late, at least call me.″

‶
I will.″ I kissed her
again, longer, more intensely. When I pulled back, her expression was still
unhappy.
‶
Get
some rest,″ I ordered, and headed for the door.

Her voice stopped me.
‶
I love you.″

‶
I love you, too, Maggie.″
I shut the door behind me, feeling like a jerk—knowing she′d be crying
before I got to the car.

Chapter 22

The clouds grew darker, reflecting my mood.
That attitude wasn′t going to win me any popularity contests with Richard
or anyone else I came in contact with. I got in the Buick, buckled my seat
belt, and avoided my brother′s gaze.

‶
Is everything okay?″ he
asked.

‶
No.″

He exhaled loudly.
‶
Should I change the
plane reservations?″

‶
Not yet.″

‶
What does that mean?″

‶
I don′t know.″

‶
But you′re getting a
funny feeling we′re not going home tomorrow, right?″ he persisted.

‶
I
don′t
know.″

He glared at me, his voice tight.
‶
Are
we going back to the inn?″

I nodded, preoccupied with thoughts of Maggie
and worried about what awaited me.

He started the car, and then headed for the
lot′s exit.
‶
Here′s something you haven′t thought to
do: revisit the scene of the crime.″

‶
The hot tub?″ I asked.

‶
I haven′t seen you go
near it. Is there a reason?″

‶
I don′t think so. Except,
Brenda told me it′s a breeding ground for germs.″

‶
It is,″ he said.
‶
But
nobody′s been in it since Eileen died, right?″

‶
Not as far as I know.″

‶
Then it′s probably all
right. There′re health codes the inn has to follow. It′s probably
pumped full of chlorine every day. Maybe you can soak up some residual vibes.″
He tore his gaze momentarily from the road and looked at me meaningfully.

‶
I suppose I could have a
look.″ Not exactly an enthusiastic response, but I wasn′t really
worried about germs. My insight tends to warn me about unpleasant experiences.
I had a feeling visiting the hot tub might be one.

Richard braked as we approached the inn.
Unfamiliar cars lined the driveway—new guests?—as well as Ashley Samuels′
junky-looking van. The vacancy sign was down, another indication Susan′s
balance sheet would improve. Despite the cluster of cars, the place was devoid
of people.

We bypassed the front door, skirted the garage
and headed for the back gardens. Like the rest of the place, the pool was
deserted. Because of cool temperatures, there weren′t even any towels
laid out—or perhaps the deputies′ presence earlier had disrupted the
inn′s routine. Still, steam from the hot tub curled into the clammy air.
I stared at the crystal clear water and wondered what Zack′s utility
bills were like.

Richard gestured toward the tub.
‶
Okay,
peel off.″

I looked up at him.
‶
Peel off?″

‶
Yeah.″

I took in all the windows that overlooked the
pool and hot tub. Until that moment I′d never considered myself a bona
fide prude.

‶
I don′t think so.″

‶
You haven′t got anything
I haven′t seen before,″ Richard said.

‶
Give me a break.″

‶
Did you bring swim
trunks?″

I nodded.

‶
Put them on. I′ll ask
Susan for a couple of those big towels and meet you back here,″ Richard
said.

The weather, or perhaps just my mood, really
wasn′t conducive to hot tubbing, but he had a point. And, if nothing
else, it would probably be my last shot at learning anything else about the
murder.

When I returned a few minutes later, he was
waiting by the hot tub in one of the chairs he′d pulled up. As promised,
two large fluffy towels sat on the empty chair and he′d set the
tub′s timer for fifteen minutes.

Without a word I kicked off my sneakers, peeled
off my jacket and stuck one foot into the water.
‶
Jesus, it′s hot!″

‶
You′ll get used to
it.″

Richard′s supposedly helpful comments
bugged me. There he sat, fully clothed and dry, unmindful of the chill air.

Easing myself into the steaming water, I
realized I was a couple of inches shorter than its last occupant. The water
came up to my chin as I positioned myself where I′d last seen Eileen
alive. Richard watched, fists jammed into his jacket pockets.

‶
I can′t help remembering
what Brenda told me about germs.″

‶
Don′t be paranoid.
Besides, these things have filters. They′ve probably already strained off
her finger- and toenails, and all her sloughed-off skin cells.″

‶
What?″

‶
What do you think happens to a
body in water?″

I stared at him.

‶
I′m joking,″
Richard said.
‶
Eileen
wasn′t in there long enough.″

My mouth hung open. Realizing it, I shut it.

He gestured at the water.
‶
Concentrate.″

Pondering the final minutes of Eileen′s
life was the last thing I wanted to do, but the faster I got it over with, the
faster I could get out of the hot tub and back into dry clothes.

The churning water mesmerized me, making it
easier to clear my mind. My eyes slid shut and I thought back to Friday
night—the night of the murder.

My breathing slowed and deepened. The stench of
chlorine actually helped revive my memories. The warm evening breeze. The hum
of an air conditioner somewhere in the background. A mosquito buzzed my ear.
Maggie′s voice was an echo, teasing me. And then there was Eileen. It was
all too easy to slip into her melancholy memories. The absolute hopelessness
she′d felt sucked at my soul like a yawning abyss.

‶
Everything was ... falling apart.″

‶
How?″ Richard asked.

Numbness.

‶
She was ... so damned drunk.”

I thought about what Kay Andolina had said to
me when I was unconscious: Look within. Looking within brought back the image
of the mountains. What the hell did that have to do with anything? I was
definitely on the wrong track.

I replayed my mental video of Eileen in the hot
tub. Poor unhealthy, unhappy Eileen. Drunk, alone, and unloved.

Something inside me twisted, and a familiar
pain snaked through my skull.

‶
She .. .wondered if she should
just....″ I gestured with my hands, letting them sink beneath the surface
of the swirling waters.

‶
Suicide?″

I squinted up at him.
‶
You were right.
Eileen wanted to die.″

‶
And someone hit her with a
blunt object, granting her wish.″

‶
Yeah. If they′d been a
little patient, they wouldn′t have had to resort to murder.″

Someone had stood over Eileen and delivered the
fatal blow. She′d been hit hard enough to knock her out and then
she′d drowned. Beach had said something about blood loss, too. Had Eileen
argued with her killer first? If so, no one had heard them. Yet the blow had
been delivered in anger, I knew it—felt it.

I closed my eyes, dove under the water and let
myself float. Bobbing for long moments, I listened to the muffled hum of the
tub′s motor, the sound of rushing water in my ears. Nothing else came to
mind. Once Eileen lost consciousness she was gone.

I stood up, pushing the hair from my eyes.

‶
Is that it?″ Richard
asked.

‶
Yeah. The last thing I want
right now is a skull-pounding headache from all this crap.″ He handed me
a towel.
‶
I′ll
be glad to get home. I don′t want to do this any more.″

‶
But you said your funny
feelings would follow you if you didn′t put them to rest here.″

‶
Yeah ... I did.″ But I
also had a feeling I was close to discovering the truth.
‶
Can
I use your shower again? I hate the smell of chlorine.″

‶
Sure. Give me your key and
I′ll go get your clothes.”

I finished toweling off in the chill air,
stuffed my feet back into my Nikes and clomped back into the inn, wondering why
I felt so ill at ease, not wanting to discover the reason.

Richard′s bathroom was spotless. I was
impressed with the amenities included with the best room in the inn, things
I′d been too out of it to notice on other occasions. Two large, thick
bath towels hung over a brass warming rail. A small wicker basket on the vanity
offered shampoo, lotion, a comb, toothbrush and a disposable razor. Yesiree,
paying customers were treated like royalty—whereas the hired help were of no
consequence. My irritation with Susan flared anew and I stepped into the shower
to douse it.

Richard tossed my clothes on the vanity and
shut the door.

As I showered, I thought about Susan′s
standards of cleanliness, not a speck of dust marred any flat surface or the
thousands of knickknacks that decorated the place. With such a small staff, it
meant Susan had to be doing as much of the dirty work as Adam and Nadine.

I thought about all the extra touches: the
sherry on the bar at night; the bath sheets laid out by the Jacuzzi; the
sumptuous breakfasts; the fresh cookies, and the bottomless coffee pot in the
dining room.

Though more than my budget could handle,
Susan′s prices weren’t exorbitant for the accommodations she offered her
guests. And the little extras, like the toiletry baskets in each of the guest
bathrooms, were nicer than what I′d seen in higher priced hotel chains.
No doubt they′d helped her earn the coveted AAA three-diamond rating.

I felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for her.
Much as I disliked the woman, I was pretty sure Susan wasn′t a murderer.

Minutes later I emerged from the bathroom,
dropped my socks and sneakers and stopped before the mirror to use
Susan′s complimentary comb. Richard watched in silence from the loveseat.

Pocketing the comb, I picked up my shoes and
took the chair nearest him, and put on my socks.
‶
I keep thinking about what you
said—that I know something that′ll nail the killer.″

‶
Did you figure it out?″

I stuffed my feet into my shoes.
‶
On
the night of the murder, the ice bucket behind the bar was empty, so I had to
get some from the freezer. I stopped at the sink and a funny feeling came over
me. I thought I should touch the dirty glasses, but I didn′t want to
because I didn′t want to know.″

‶
Know what?″ Richard
asked.

‶
That′s it. I don′t
know. It′s just ... I′d shaken so many hands and learned so much
crap about the people here, things I wasn′t prepared for and didn′t
want to know, that I couldn′t face anyone else′s emotional garbage.
If I had, I probably couldn′t have prevented the murder, but maybe I
could′ve prevented all that′s happened since.″

‶
Jeff, you can′t take on
that kind of responsibility.″

‶
That sounds very logical—very
sane. Meanwhile my gut′s telling me to keep asking questions, keep
looking.”

‶
Okay, let′s try and
unlock that memory you can′t get at with a little word association.
I′ll say a name and you say the first thing comes to mind.″

It sounded stupid, but I was game. I sat back
in the chair.
‶
Shoot.″

‶
Eileen.″

‶
Sick and unhappy. But
there′s so much more.″

‶
Just the first thing you
get,″ he scolded.
‶
Zack.″

‶
Anger.″

‶
Ted.″

‶
Conceit.″

‶
Why?″

‶
Because he thinks he′s
God′s gift to women. Are we still playing?″

‶
Laura?″

‶
Aloof.″

‶
Susan?″

‶
Bitch.″

‶
Adam?″

‶
Liar.″

‶
Why?″

‶
Because he lied. He lied about
when he found the body. He lied about being at the inn on Friday night.″

‶
Wait a minute. You said he lied
about being there on Saturday, the night he tried to plant the scotch bottle in
your room. Was he there Friday—the night of the murder—too?″

I thought about it for a moment.
‶
I
think that′s when he sold Doug the pot.″

Richard stared at the carpet, thoughtful.
‶
Could
it be that with so much going on with the most obvious suspects, you′ve
completely ignored someone who directly threatened you?″

‶
Adam? Why would he want to kill
Eileen?″

‶
You tell me.″

I thought about it for a moment.
‶
Okay,
he admitted he pushed me down the stairs, but we don′t know that he can
hot wire a car.″

‶
And we don′t know he
can′t, either.”

That made sense. More than I wanted to admit.
That all-too-familiar queasiness invaded my gut.

‶
Do you think he could be
protecting Susan like he claimed?″ Richard asked.

‶
I don′t know what to
think.″

‶
Maybe we′d better have a
little chat with Susan.”

I grabbed my jacket and followed him to the
living room. As expected, we found Susan in the hole in the wall she called an
office, tapping on her computer keyboard.

‶
Susan? Do you have a
minute?″

She turned, looked at me over the top of her
half glasses.
‶
A
minute.″

‶
I want to ask you about
Adam.″

Something in her expression flickered—anger,
annoyance?—then was gone. She looked at me suspiciously.
‶
What
about him?″