Elisabeth Crabtree - Pink Flamingo Hotel 01 - Death by Pink Flamingo

Death

by

Pink

Flaming
o

(A Pink Flamingo Hotel Mystery)

Elisabeth Crabtree

C
opyright © 2014 by Elisabeth Crabtree

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the written permission of the author.

ISBN-13:

ISBN-10:

First Printing,
April 2014

v.
6.7.14

Book cover designed by San at
www.coverkicks.com/

Illustrations: Bigstock.com

Author’s Note

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and situations are completely fictional and a work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For
my mom

Other books by Elisabeth Crabtree

Books in the Grace Holliday Cozy Mystery Series:

Deadly Magic

Deadly Reunion

Death Takes a Holiday

Murder Games

Books in the Hatter’s Cove Mystery Series:

St. Valentine’s Day Cookie Massacre

Books in the Pink Flamingo Hotel Mystery Series:

Death by Pink Flamingo

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

C
HAPTER ONE

Sylvia
Sutton, co-owner of the Pink Flamingo Hotel and my reluctant business partner, stood out on the lawn of the hotel and faced the ocean. She flexed her fingers around the hilt of the hammer in her hands before bringing it up over her head. With a loud grunt, she slammed the hammer down on Felix’s head.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

With each whack, I winced. “You’re going to take his head off.”

“Good,” she said, swinging the hammer toward Felix’s head
once again.

I nervously twisted a section of my long brown hair around my finger as
I glanced out at the beach. A dozen or so beachgoers, sunning themselves in the hot Florida sun, stared in our direction. They had turned away, one by one, from the spectacular ocean view to watch, mouths agape, as Sylvia wound up to deliver another whack to poor Felix.

Sweat poured off
the older woman’s body and I noticed, with a bit of concern that her face was turning as bright red as her hair.

Sylvia
paused in her attack long enough to rub her arm across her sweating forehead and then readjust her pink knit top with the little pink flamingo embroidered above her heart. With a scowl, she looked down at her shirt and then at me. I planted my hands on my hips and lifted my chin in defiance as her scowl deepened.

The
pink shirts with the embroidered flamingo and hotel name were Sylvia’s idea and she, in her usual ham-handed fashion, had insisted that everyone who worked at the hotel wear one, including us.
At all times
, I thought with a tiniest bit of a frown. I had tried to explain to her that a hotel uniform wasn’t exactly practical since I planned on living at the hotel and I wasn’t about to spend every waking moment of the rest of my life in a pink shirt and khaki shorts. And despite the fact that it would cut down on, in her highly inaccurate estimation, my “wildly exorbitant” wardrobe expenditures, I didn’t need to save money that badly.

However,
despite my repeated and vocal protestations, she was convinced that I would do as she ordered. Suffice it to say, she wasn’t too pleased when I came down from my room this morning in white Capri pants and a pink sleeveless top—the color a peace offering of sorts. I smiled in remembrance of the look on Sylvia’s face. Her face turned about as red then as it did now, but there was very little she could say since I owned the other half of the hotel.

Sylvia
wiped her left hand against her khaki walking shorts before planting her feet a shoulder width apart and taking a firmer grip of the hammer.

Poor Felix
, I thought as the older woman brought the hammer above her head.

A crowd had begun to gather on the boardwalk
separating the beach from the hotel’s yard. They stopped and stared as Sylvia, letting out a war cry, swung the hammer back down on Felix’s head.

This can’t be good
for business,
I thought as I rubbed a hand across my neck. I glanced down at Felix’s legs which were slowly disappearing into the ground. “How are you even getting him into the ground? What happened to the pedestal?”

Breathing heavily
, Sylvia gave me an annoyed look as she stopped her swing midway. “The stupid pedestal was broken. You know that. So, I broke off what was left and attached a stake to each leg.” She brought the hammer up above her head and gave the iron pink flamingo another whack. “This stupid flamingo is staying in the ground this time,” she said with a snarl. “I had to walk all the way down to the old pier to retrieve this thing and I have no intention of doing…” She raised the hammer above her head and leaned back as far as she could before bringing it back down with a resounding
whack
. “…THAT…” She reared back once again. “…AGAIN.”

WHACK.

“But you’ve buried him up to his knees,” I protested. I glanced at the battered iron flamingo, a staple of the hotel since its initial opening back in the twenties.

Sylvia
placed her hand against her back and straightened. She pointed the hammer at Felix. “He is staying down this time!”

I lifted my eyebrows as I
pondered, once again when dealing with Sylvia, whether the hotel’s health insurance plan covered anger management.

Sylvia
raised the hammer above her head once more. Having had more than enough and noticing an even larger crowd starting to form, some with their phones out and pointed toward us, I leapt forward and grabbed the end of the hammer. “Let’s give Felix a break for now.”

To my surprise
, Sylvia tugged the hammer back. Her blue eyes narrowed to slits as the corner of her mouth lifted in a snarl. We stood there, glaring at one another for an uncomfortably long time. With every passing moment, Sylvia’s face grew angrier and angrier and just as I was wondering if I was going to end up buried up to my knees in the lawn like Felix, she suddenly let go.

I s
tumbled back in surprise and tripped over the driftwood that lined the crushed shell walkway to the outdoor pool, much to the obvious delight of several of the onlookers. I sat up and glared at the group of teenagers who were laughing and pointing at me.

It’s not the
ir fault
, I thought, as I turned my glare from the teenagers to Sylvia.

“Whatever you say
, Anna. I’m sure you know best,” she said with a sneer before turning on her heel and stalking back to the hotel.

I turned my head toward
the sound of someone clapping, relieved to see my best friend since kindergarten, Victoria Carrera, sitting at a table near the pool. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and gave a big whistle. “Way to go, Anna! Nice effort. I thought for sure you’d win. Maybe you’ll have better luck at your next bout.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.”
I sat up, gently cradling the arm I had used to break my fall and glanced down at my wrist. I grimaced when I saw that my watch was busted.
Luckily, that was the only thing busted
, I thought, gingerly climbing to my feet and making my way to the pool. I sank down into the chair next to Victoria with a groan.

Victoria
chuckled. “And here you were so worried that you and Sylvia wouldn’t be able to get along.”

I dropped the hammer down on the table.
“How could Uncle Max do this to me?” I asked, for what was probably the hundredth time since my uncle had bequeathed his hotel to both Sylvia, his long-time companion and office manager, and me four months ago. “He had to have known this wouldn’t work.”

“
I loved Max dearly, but your uncle wasn’t the wisest of men.” Victoria lifted one slim shoulder. “Maybe things will calm down when the hotel is back in operation.” She bounced up and down on her seat in excitement. “Tomorrow, baby! The Pink Flamingo will finally be open for business again.”

I smiled at her enthusiasm. Sometimes, it seemed
Victoria was more excited than I was about that fact. I glanced over Victoria’s shoulder at the hotel.

It was beautiful. Built in the
1920s, it was four stories tall and covered in pink stucco with large white columns. We had two Olympic-sized pools—an indoor and an outdoor—a magnificent tennis court, a beautiful garden, two giant ballrooms, a first class dining room, and a gorgeous sunroom overlooking the ocean. The rooms were beautifully decorated and included the latest amenities. However, the biggest selling point was the views. Every room had its own private balcony overlooking either the ocean on one side or the inlet on the other. In my humble opinion, the Flamingo’s guest suites could rival any found in a five star hotel.
Well, at least those on the first three floors
, I thought as my eyes travelled to the fourth floor, which hadn’t gone through the renovation process yet. Despite that one flaw, the Flamingo was the grandest hotel on the boardwalk. It was also the only hotel on the boardwalk, but still, it was mine.

My hotel
, I thought with a bit of pride.
Well, half mine
, I amended.

Victoria
lifted her hands above her head. “The Flamingo will rise from the ashes and be reborn like it has many times before.”

“That’s a phoenix
,” I said with amused affection. “Not a flamingo.”

She
shrugged as she adjusted her bikini top. “Whatever. They’re both birds, aren’t they?”

“You’ve got me there.”
I frowned at the dark clouds hovering in the distance.

“Would you relax? You should be jumping for joy. All your—excuse me—
our
hard work is about to pay off. The hotel is beautiful. Guests and money will be pouring in. You’ll see.”

I placed my arm down on the table and picked the broken glass plate out of my watch with my fingernail.
“I just have this horrible feeling that something bad is going to happen.”

“Hey now, none of this doom and gloom. It’s my birthday and I want nothing but happiness from you.”
Her brown eyes clouded. “Anna, everything’s going to be fine.”

“Promise?”

I consciously unclenched my fingers as she patted my hand. “Absolutely.”

I
glanced past Victoria’s shoulder toward the hotel. I could see Sylvia in the dining room. She was standing at the window with her hands on her hips, staring at me. Just staring. “I’m glad you’re confident.”

“
Why shouldn’t I be?” Victoria asked. “Everything will be fine. Besides, even if they aren’t, you have me. I’ll help out in any way I can.”

I snorted
. “You know about as much about running a hotel as I do.”

Victoria tossed her long black hair over her shoulder.
“I beg to differ. I spent many summers with my mother globetrotting and when I wasn’t with her or my father, I was playing here with you.”

“Playing is the ope
rative word. I should have paid more attention when Uncle Max was alive and a little less playing.”

She waved her hand. “Big deal. I can tell you exactly what guests want
, and if you need help designing a room service menu, I’m your girl. Besides, I think you’re selling yourself short. You spent more time behind the front desk than your uncle did.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper as one of my employees walked past. “How did the safety inspection go?”

“Excellent.”

“The stairs where …” She hesitated, apparently not wanting to finish her sentence. It was all right. I knew what she meant. She was referring to the east staircase where Uncle Max fell and broke his neck.

“All fixed.”

“Good! So, what’s next on the renovation schedule?” Her pretty brown eyes lit up as thoughts of renovating the rest of the hotel danced through her head. She had already redecorated the first, second and third floors with the money Uncle Max had left me, but Victoria, a professional decorator by trade, wasn’t going to be satisfied until she had redecorated the hotel top to bottom.

I had relied on her expertise since I was a thousand miles away in graduate school earning my MBA when my uncl
e passed away one late night in February. The safety inspector shut down the hotel the very next day. Once the funeral was over and the will was read, there was very little I could do, except return to school and finish up my degree, while Victoria and Sylvia got the hotel back in working order. Everything on my end had to be done remotely until I graduated. To our surprise, Sylvia had been of very little help. She disappeared shortly after my uncle’s death and barely responded to any of my phone calls. Victoria and I expected Sylvia to hover around, objecting to everything Victoria did, but to our surprise, Sylvia didn’t seem the slightest bit interested. I hadn’t even seen the woman until she breezed into the hotel a day after I arrived back in town and started complaining about everything Victoria and I had done to
her
hotel.

“
We really need to redecorate those rooms on the fourth floor, Anna.” Her face twisted in disgust. “They still have wallpaper from the seventies and that ugly orange, shag carpeting.”

“I can’t afford to renovate anymore until we get the hotel up and running.”

“You’re losing money by keeping the fourth floor closed up.”

“I have no choice.
We can’t rent them out the way they are. They’re filthy, funny smelling, and are just plain ugly. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have enough money to renovate them in the fall. Guests won’t want to stay in there. Heck, Uncle Max couldn’t give those rooms away. He only let people go up there if they were desperate and had nowhere else to go, and even then, people still chose to sleep in their cars once they saw the rooms.”

Victoria
shook her head. “I don’t know why Max let that floor get in that condition. He updated the other floors over the years, so why didn’t he update that one.”