Deviled!: Lake Erie Mysteries Book 2 (5 page)

A
fter taking
our seats at one of the long tables in the fifth-floor conference room, I felt like I could relax again. “How do you do it, June? You just blew that detective off and acted like you weren’t even concerned that we’re going to be questioned for the second time in connection to a murder.”

“Well, we didn’t do it, did we?”

“No, but still. I think we’re under suspicion.”

“If we didn’t do anything wrong, they can’t prove that we did. So what’s the sense of getting all worked up?”

“I guess you’re right. Somehow I always end up feeling guilty even when I have nothing to hide. I suppose we should just try to enjoy ourselves and let the investigators find out who the real killer is. Do you think the person is still here on the island?”

June didn’t have a chance to answer. A short man resembling a ferret in a dreadful Hawaiian shirt barreled into the room. I held my breath waiting for the sleeping rodent on top of his head to spring to life and bite me, but thankfully the faux hair stayed put, and I was not subjected to whatever hid beneath it. I mean, really, as bad as that thing looked, I had no desire to find out the true condition of his scalp. Weasel Guy pulled a chair from the end of the long conference table and dragged it until he managed to maneuver himself into the space right between June and me. We were the only three people in the room and were now crowded together like the proverbial sardines in a tin.

“Hi. I’m Eddie. Eddie Sneed. You’re Francie and June, right?” His beady black eyes darted about, never coming to rest on either of us, which may have been a good thing. “Are you the ones who killed that guy in the stairwell? I heard all about you. You caught that killer on Kelleys Island, right? Are you undercover agents? Man, I can’t believe I got into this lecture with you. Everyone was all hyped up about that theater makeup demonstration, but when I saw the two of you signed up for this session, I just had to sign up. If we do a group activity, can I be in your group? Can I help you catch the killer? What are you doing for lunch? I’m free, if you’re planning to do some sleuthing. I’m really good at blending in.”

“Gooood morning, set designers.” Gabriel swooped into the room with a robust greeting meant for more than three attendees. He missed half a beat in his introduction as he scanned the conference area looking for the rest of the participants, but all he found was two ladies and a weasel-faced man scrunched shoulder-to-shoulder at the center table, surrounded by at least thirty empty chairs. At least Eddie Sneed finally shut his pie hole when Gabriel entered.

“Well, this is a bit more intimate than I had foreseen.” Gabriel pulled up a chair and sat on the opposite side of the table facing us. “To be honest, I’m not surprised. I guess word got out about the theater makeup demonstration. It’s supposed to be pretty entertaining this year.”

June leaned halfway across the table toward Gabriel. “I don’t see how we could complain about getting your undivided personal attention. It’s their loss, right guys?” She was addressing us, but never took her eyes off our instructor.

Gabriel held June’s gaze, and I started to feel like I was intruding on an intimate moment, until I heard the ding of an incoming text message from the pocket of her tan skirt. She reached under the table to retrieve her phone and sneak a peek at the screen. The spell was broken, and June’s cheeks were now blooming sweetheart-rose red. I couldn’t see around Eddie, and he was stretching his neck over her shoulder trying hard to get a look himself. I would just have to wait until we were alone to ask her about it, but I had a suspicion Jack Morgan had something to do with her high color. Geez, she was going to need to whip out her notebook soon to keep track of all the handsome men she was flirting with. Between the dreamy detective from Kelleys Island, and the rich, handsome business mogul, she had better be careful. I felt no jealousy toward my friend, though. My hubby was all I needed or wanted, even after more than twenty years of marriage, and it didn’t hurt that he was still in great shape and looked a lot like George Clooney.

“So what are we going to do today? Are we building a set? Is there going to be time to get a snack? Do we need a pen and paper? Is there going to be a group project?” Eddie Sneed was starting to remind me of a naughty puppy that needed a swift dose of discipline.

Gabriel cleared his throat, trying to conceal a groan. June’s reflexes kicked in. She slapped her hand over Eddie’s mouth to shut him up, and I lowered my forehead to the cherrywood table, contemplating banging it a few times. And that is when Detective Reed walked into the room.

“Excuse me. I hope I’m not interrupting something too important. Are you acting out some sort of scene?” She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “I can wait a minute if you want to finish up. This looks interesting.”

Gabriel regained his composure first. “Hello again, Detective. We were actually just getting acquainted. What can we do for you?”

“I need to speak with Francesca and June, separately, for a few minutes, if you can spare them.”

“Of course. Anything we can do to help out.”

My guilty conscience was trying to rear its ugly head again as Gabriel offered me up to the detective like a sacrificial lamb.

“Ms. Egge, shall we go into the hall to speak?”

I didn’t feel like I had a choice, so I got up and followed her into the empty hallway. As the detective pulled the door closed behind us, I could hear Eddie start in on another round of rapid-fire questions. I was almost relieved to be leaving the room. Almost.

Reed stood with her back to the door and her arms crossed over her chest, presenting an intimidating figure despite her petite proportions. I was left trying to figure out what to do with my hands and whether or not I should make eye contact.

“May I call you Francie? I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Yes, of course, that’s fine, but I don’t have any idea what I could possibly contribute to your investigation.”

“Where were you during the storm and power outage?”

Nothing like getting right to the point
, I thought. I took a deep breath and relayed the details of the previous evening. “I was with June. We got caught in the rain between the marina and the hotel. The power went out just before we entered the lobby, so we took the stairs. Something was blocking the door to the stairwell.” As I retold the story, I realized that the “something” was not an oversize laundry bag, but Bob’s makeshift body bag. I shuddered as I remembered the sound it made as it thumped over onto the floor in front of us and how we hoofed right over it in a hurry to get upstairs.

“Thank you. Now, can you tell me about your scarf?”

“My scarf? What does my scarf have to do with any of this?”

“If you don’t mind, Francie, I’ll ask the questions. Where did you get the scarf?”

“I got it last year at a drama seminar. There are always some props and costume elements that are given out or sold at discounted prices as incentives from various suppliers. I thought it was pretty, and I bought it, simple as that. As a courtesy, the suppliers engrave or embroider the purchaser’s name on the item and keep it till checkout. That way, nothing gets lost or mixed up.”

“To your knowledge, does anyone else own a scarf like that one?”

“How should I know?” I heard the high-pitched tone of my voice and made a mental note to calm down so Reed would not equate my irritation and frustration with her questions to guilt of some kind.

She ignored my reaction and moved on to her next question. “When did notice your scarf was missing? Do you have any idea where you lost it?”

“What? It was never missing. I didn’t lose it. Didn’t Angelina tell you?”

The detective tilted her head and stared at me. “What would Mrs. DeVille have to tell me about your scarf?”

I explained to her about the wine spill in the DeVille’s penthouse and how Angelina insisted on having it laundered.

Reed referred to the notepad she was holding and jotted notes I couldn’t see. She questioned me about who, if anyone, had seen us during the time we were caught in the storm.

“I don’t remember seeing anyone at all while we were out in the rain or when we came back. Let’s face it, no one wanted to be out in that weather, least of all me.”

“Thank you, Francie. That’s all I need for now. You can go back to your session. You’ve been most helpful.”

“Okay, but I still don’t see how any of this can be at all useful.”

The detective kept her gaze fixed on her notebook. “Please send June out, if you would be so kind.”

I re-entered the conference room, slumped into the chair at the end of the table, and relayed Reed’s invitation to June. She had been chitchatting with Gabriel while doing her best to ignore Eddie without being too obvious. The mood was spoiled. She got to her feet and headed out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

T
he mood had definitely been altered
by the visit from Detective Reed. We were all back in the conference room, but the seating arrangement had been purposefully switched up. When June returned from her hallway interrogation, she made sure there was an empty chair between the two of us and our annoying classmate. Eddie started to speak but must have seen the death rays shooting toward his brain from both directions and thought better of it. Gabriel had been pacing in the front of the room, hands deep in his pockets, eyes dark and brooding. After a minute, he approached our table, gathered up a stack of papers, tapped their edges into perfect alignment, and sat back down across from us. He seemed to understand that we were not really in the right mindset to listen to a technical rendering of the ins and outs of theater set design. After putting his notes in his briefcase, he took a deep breath and spoke.

“I have a proposition for the three of you. I am in charge of the final night event. It’s a mystery dinner theater featuring attendees of this conference who have signed up to participate and showcase some of their special skills. Why don’t we wrap up early here and meet later, perhaps after the afternoon lecture. The final night dinner will be in the Crystal Theater where you were last night, but it will be in use this evening, so we can meet in the original Starlight Theater. We don’t use it often anymore, but it’s a real treasure. I’m sure you’ll enjoy a private tour of the facility. Then you can help me orchestrate the lineup, and we can discuss set design in a more hands-on environment. I should have the full list of participants by then.”

I blew out a sigh of relief. I didn’t think I could sit here and concentrate much longer, because I really wanted to hear what Detective Reed had asked June and compare stories. “I think that sounds great. What do you guys think?” I included Eddie in my question even though I was speaking directly to June. “Let’s make it four o’clock then, after the lecture. I have no problem missing the meet-and-greet with the cast of tonight’s mini-performance.”

“Sounds delightful to me.” June was once again feasting her eyes on Gabriel, no doubt glad for another opportunity to spend some quality time with him.

Without waiting for Eddie to add his opinion or launch into his newest round of questions, we grabbed our purses and headed for the door. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the hint. Eddie popped out of his chair and followed close on our heels, resuming his relentless queries about our lunch and investigating plans. When I looked back into the room, searching for an excuse to leave our newfound parasite behind, I saw Gabriel deep in conversation on his cell phone. His voice was hushed and his forehead was creased. He looked at his watch and stormed out through a door on the opposite side of the room. No longer did he appear the least bit concerned about the low attendance of his session or the caliber of his students.

We got off the elevator on the twelfth floor and had to physically stop Eddie from following us out. We promised to meet him at the trade show where lunch was also being served. Once safely inside our room behind the locked door, June and I shot rapid-fire words over one another, sounding more like Eddie than either of us would care to admit.

“Hang on, Francie. Let’s take this one step at a time. I need to get a feel for this situation from the beginning. You go first. What did Detective Reed ask you?”

“Okay, let’s see. She wanted to know where we were during the storm and power outage. Then she asked a bunch of questions about that stupid scarf. She wanted to know where I got it, if I knew of anyone else who had one like it, and exactly when I lost it. I told her it wasn’t lost. I explained about the wine in the DeVille’s penthouse and how we left it there because Angelina insisted on having it laundered. She was adamant to know if anyone had seen us during the time we were caught in the storm. I don’t remember seeing anyone at all while we were out in the rain or when we came back. I don’t think we have an alibi, June. Someone must have killed Bob when the power was out and left him in that stairwell, and we have no proof that it wasn’t us. Add our little scene with Bob earlier in the day and whatever the scarf has to do with things, and it doesn’t look good. I think I should call Hamm. I might need a lawyer.”

“Not yet, Francie. I don’t think you need to worry Hammond. As far as I know, they’ve still got this whole place closed off, and he couldn’t come anyway. Besides, I really don’t want Jack to think we can’t be left unattended for a single weekend without getting ourselves sucked into a murder investigation.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right. We’re not in danger, and the cops must be following up on some other clues besides the ones that involve us. So, what did Reed ask you about?”

“She asked me the same things mostly. I told her I was the one wearing your scarf and that I was the one who pushed Bob into the lake. The one thing that does bother me about this investigation is that she really seemed to be focusing on you for some reason. It almost looks as if you’re being set up. Why wouldn’t Angelina just tell the police about what happened in the suite? What could she possibly have to hide?”

“I have no idea why someone would want to accuse me of murder, and the more I think about it, the more I’m sure that we need to get to the bottom of this before I find myself in a serious situation.”

June was uncharacteristically pensive for a brief moment. Then, like a light switch being flipped on, she went into investigator mode. “Here’s what we’ll do . . .”

A soft knock on the door interrupted June’s synopsis of her plan. She bolted over to the door and swung it open with enough force to make the girl in the hallway squeal like a cat whose tail had been slammed in the pantry door.

“What now?” June was at the end of her patience.

“Um, I have the spa passes you requested.” I could hear the young girl’s accent even though she didn’t speak above a whisper.

“We didn’t request any spa services. Who are they from?” June grabbed the passes from the girl’s hand and scanned the fine print. The girl retreated from the doorway and headed back toward the elevators. “Hang on a minute.” June’s curt command stopped the girl in her tracks. “Aren’t you that girl who was in the DeVille’s suite last night? What’s your name?”

“My name is Sasha.” Between the girl’s accent and the tentative whisper of her voice, I could barely make out what she was saying. “I really need to get back to work. If there was a mix-up with your spa order, you can contact the concierge. I’m sure he can straighten it out. I’m so sorry to interrupt you.”

June wasn’t satisfied. “Not so fast. Come into the room for a minute so I can call the front desk. I’m sure you’ll just have to come back to pick these back up anyway. I’m sorry I yelled at you. It’s not your fault. Please come in.”

Sasha hesitated for a split second, turned on her heals, bolted down the hall to the stairs and disappeared.