EMBELLISHED TO DEATH (16 page)

TWELVE

  

I raised my head and looked around, trying to gauge where the shooter was hiding. An inky blackness coated the sky. Not one star shimmered. Humidity laced the night air. Screams floated from the hotel as the door opened. I glanced back. Bob ran out and slid to a halt beside me.

“You all right?” Bob crouched beside me and placed a hand on my back.

“Yeah.” I tried pushing myself up but Bob's firm hand kept me kissing the ground.

“Faith!” Steve skidded to a halt at my side.

“What did I tell you?” Bob spoke in a harsh whisper. He rose, standing in a hunched over position.

“I wasn't staying in there if Faith was out here injured,” Steve said.

“Trying to keep two people from getting shot is a lot harder than one.” Bob grabbed the waistband of my jeans and gave me a tug. “I need the two of you back inside the building.”

“We can't,” Steve said. “I told Gussie to barricade the door in case Morgan tried getting back in. Darlene's keeping an eye on Garrison.”

A strange sound reached my ears. I grabbed Steve's arm. “What was that?”

We all grew quiet and listened. Our breathing echoed back at us. I didn't like this one bit. I clutched Steve's hand, comforted by the fact he managed to make his way outside.

He squeezed my hand.

A moan interrupted our self-imposed silence.

“Here's the plan,” Bob whispered. “We're going to make our way to the front of the hotel.”

“Someone's hurt down there,” I said. I knew a few yards in front of us the ground turned from a flat surface into a steep hill. Morgan might not have known that the hill was steep. He might be down there with a broken leg or neck. Or shot.

“Once you're both in the hotel, I'll look for him,” Bob said.

Lights from rooms filtered out, giving just enough brightness that I could make my way down the grassy patch without tripping over a garden hose or running into the large air-conditioning unit.

“I think it's coming from down there.” I pointed toward the barely detectable sharp incline at the back of the hotel. I scrambled to my feet and edged as close to the drop-off as I dared.

“What are you doing?” Steve hissed. “Get back here.”

All I saw was a dark nothingness. “Someone's hurt. We have to help them.”

“If you're going to lean further out, give me your hand,” Steve said.

“Go into the building,” Bob said.

“Faith's right,” Steve said. “We have to help.”

The weird sound from below, a cross between a wheezing rattle and a hacking cough filled the night.

“He's down there.” I sat on the ground.

“Faith, wait—” Steve's fingertips skimmed my skin.

I slid down the hill on my derrière, using the flashlight app on my phone to show me the way. Of course, in a sitting position I wouldn't have much opportunity to get out of the way of any rocks or other debris unless I rolled to the side. It was still the safest way to the bottom on the hill. Even dry, the angle of the descent made it hard to walk down.

I reached the bottom and felt my way along the dry grass. Twigs poked my palms. I stopped moving and listened. Hard. For a while, all I heard was my own breathing. The strangled gasp came again.

I crawled toward the sound. Small rocks and clumps of dirt pelted me.

“Faith, it could be a trap,” Bob yelled. “I'm coming down.”

Like making a loud announcement was going to help us sneak up on Morgan. I heard a lot of skidding coming from the hill. It sounded like Steve followed after Bob.

Regardless of the fact that Morgan was a vile person, I needed to check on him. I roved my phone back and forth over the area. A lump was on the ground a few feet from me.

“I see him.” I pushed into a standing position and ran toward the fallen figure.

“Hold up.”

“No time.” I dropped to my knees, using my cell phone to take a look at the person. Morgan. A dark patch spread across his chest. He sucked in a loud, wet sounding breath then his chest collapsed. I felt for a pulse. None.

“He's not breathing.” I pushed down the panic building. I tried blocking my mind from processing the image of his unblinking eyes, the wetness on my hands as I began compressions. I needed my composure. Tears wouldn't help me now. I needed all my breaths and energy focused on saving this man's life.

“I'm here.” Bob placed a hand on my back. “Let me take over.”

Shaking my head, I continued. Compressions. Breaths. Compressions. Breaths. I'd wait for the paramedics. Switching twice might leave Morgan without help long enough that he'd die.

“Faith, it's too late. He's gone.” Bob gently squeezed my shoulder and tried to draw me back.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Steve wrapped an arm around my waist and drew me toward him.

I elbowed him away and continued CPR.

Voices echoed from above. Lights shone down on us. Bob spoke but my mind refused to process the words.

“Ma'am, let me take over.” A paramedic gently nudged me out of the way.

I watched the paramedic work on Morgan for a few minutes before he shook his head. I averted my gaze.

Steve peeled off his shirt and scrubbed my stained, trembling hands with it. If it wasn't for Steve gripping my hands, I'd have crumpled to the ground in a heap. As it was, my legs barely held me up.

Steve eased us both to a sitting position on the grass.

Morgan was dead. And out there in the nothingness of the dark was the person who killed him.

“We have to find who did this.” I tried standing but my legs refused to listen. My voice sounded different. Odd. Flat. Emotionless, even though anger, fear, sadness, and relief all rolled through me. I was a muddled mess.

Steve stood and scooped me into his arms. “The police will. We're going inside. There's no reason for you to get involved.”

He was right. Morgan threatened me and tried to force me to leave the hotel with him. He hurt Steve and Garrison.

An officer shined a light on Morgan and then swiveled it to take in each one of us. “Get Detective Bell down here. Stat.”

We waited. A slight breeze whispered through the air. I shivered and leaned into Steve. He tightened his arms around me.

Another person slid to the bottom of the hill. A flashlight shone on us. “Why am I not surprised the three of you are here?”

I blinked and shielded my eyes. “He attacked me and wanted to make me leave with him. Steve overpowered him. Morgan ran out of the hotel. I followed him out here. I heard shots.”

Bell crouched down and trained the light onto Morgan's body. “Get the bystanders inside. Have Miss Hunter and her entourage stay down here.”

The hotel staff switched on the back lights and police cars positioned themselves so the headlights flooded the area.

“Let's go talk, Miss Hunter.” Bell stood and ushered me away from Bob and Steve. “Make sure they're interviewed separately.”

Uniform officers separated Bob and Steve.

“When did you first meet Morgan?”

“This morning when he told me he was an FBI agent,” I said.

“Why would he tell you that?”

“To scare me.”

Bell tilted his head to side and tapped a pen to his chin. “There are two things I'm wondering right now, why would knowing someone works for the FBI scare you, and why would Morgan pick you to threaten?”

“He knew about my past exploits in solving murders. He said he planned on proving that I killed that woman this morning.”

“Didn't Detective Roget solve those cases?”

I nodded.

“Detective Bell,” an officer shouted. “I think we might have the shooter.”

I spun around. My heart went into my throat. Bell shifted so I was behind him. I leaned slightly and peered around him.

An officer had yanked Bob's arms behind his back. “We've confiscated his weapon.”

“He didn't do it.” I gripped Bell's arm. The look he settled on my hand had enough heat I jerked my hand away. “Bob exited the building right after I did. If he had fired his weapon, he'd have shot me.”

“He's taller than you so he could've shot right over your head.”

True. But, then how would Morgan have been hit in the chest? Morgan wasn't a giant. “The bullet would've hit Morgan in the head not—”

Bell yanked out his notebook from his jacket pocket. “Fine. We'll finish our interview now. Did you see Morgan when you ran out of the building?”

“No. I heard a loud pop and dropped to the ground.”

“So, you have no idea where Morgan was standing?”

“I don't know where he was.”

“You couldn't see him?”

“It was dark out here. There are no stars and the lights weren't on.”

“Which means you couldn't have seen Bob Roget either. You have no idea if he stood right behind you, or reached around you and fired.”

I rummaged through my memory. “That didn't happen. I know that.”

“You're making guesses on what you think happened because of what you want the truth to be.”

I glared at him. “No. That's what you're doing.”

Bell stood toe-to-toe with me, his chest almost pressed into my face. “Listen carefully, Miss Hunter, I don't coddle meddling citizens the way Detective Roget does. If you interfere in my investigation, I will arrest you. If you accuse me of framing someone, I will sue you. I will not have my reputation tarnished because you want to play private investigator. Am I making myself clear?”

I nodded. I knew Bob didn't kill Morgan and I'd prove it with a little help from my friends and maybe even another possible suspect. Something weird, besides identity-stealing, was going on and Violet would tell me or find herself being hauled to jail herself.

“Let's take the suspect to the station.” Detective Bell walked over to the officer detaining Bob.

THIRTEEN

  

When we reached the third floor, the hallway was crowded with women crying. Some huddled together, others tugged suitcases behind them, as they made a break for the elevator.

“Everyone please remain calm.” Gussie led a shaken woman down the hallway. “The staff and police have everything under control.”

Relief swept over Darlene's face when she spotted me. “You're all right.”

“Of course.” I smiled and hoped it looked natural.

Garrison's gaze moved from the stairwell to the elevator.

I stood on my toes, braced my hands on Steve's shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Can you talk to Garrison? I'm going to call Ted. His brother and Garrison will need him. I don't know how long it'll be before Bob gets his one phone call.”

“Tell Marsha I'm expecting a refund.” A woman in purple pajamas, decorated with lambs jumping over fences, headed to the elevator. She tugged a hastily packed suitcase behind her. Straps from camisoles peeked out from the zipper. “I want the crop room reopened. I want to leave tonight.”

It was just after midnight. The manager must have locked the doors. Besides picking the lock, I didn't know how to get back in there before the staff opened it back up at six, and there was a more important matter to handle. Collecting scrapping supplies could wait until morning.

“Everything is fine,” I said. “There's no reason to leave.”

“A woman got run over in the parking lot. Someone attacked a woman in her room.”

“That man won't be bothering anyone again,” I said.

“I heard a shot outside.” A woman wearing pink-and-brown camouflage yoga wear clutched a cell phone to her chest.

“My friend and I had just got back from a late dinner and saw a coroner's van outside.”

“As I said, the man who attacked the woman tonight won't hurt anyone again.” The flat tone returned to my voice.

Steve drew me to his side. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Go talk to Garrison in his room.”

“His room?” Steve's lifted my chin with his finger and studied me.

“His room is right next to yours. Ours.” I held out my hand. “Can I—”

“You can go through the connecting door.” Steve placed his other arm around Garrison and walked us to the room. “We need to talk.”

Garrison halted Steve. “Where's Bob?”

Worried women exchanged glances. I sent a pleading look to Darlene. I didn't want to announce Bob's arrest to an audience.

Darlene wiggled between the two men and threw a worried glance in my direction. “Come on croppers, let's go find Lydia, Marsha, or the manager. Since we're awake and won't be able to fall back asleep, might as get some cropping done. Faith, how about ten percent off any sales from midnight until three a.m.?”

“Sounds good,” I said.

Darlene shooed croppers toward two different spots in the hallway. “Everyone near the elevator, go with Gussie. Everyone closer to the stairs, follow me.”

Darlene's group trailed after her like ducklings after their momma.

The woman in the lamb pajamas stood her ground. “I want to leave now.”

“Pick a group. If neither Gussie nor Darlene can talk the manager into opening up the crop area, no one can,” I said.

“I'll take the elevator.” The woman brought her suitcase on the scouting expedition.

I wished them luck in finding Lydia or Marsha. Those two could make themselves as scarce as Bigfoot. If the sirens didn't draw them from their rooms, or wherever they were, someone wanting to leave early wouldn't make them appear either.

“No!” Garrison knocked into me as he ran from the room.

“Wait!” Steve steadied me then snagged Garrison's arm. “Charging in there isn't going to help.”

“You don't get it.” Garrison yanked away.

“Yes, I do.” Steve kept hold of Garrison.

“Let's go talk in the room,” I said.

“No.” Garrison yanked away. “I won't let them ruin Bob.”

“They won't,” Steve insisted.

A woman holding a cell phone to her ear huddled near the vending machines.

“You don't know anything about our lives. What it's like—”

I took hold of Garrison. “In the room. He wouldn't want everyone hearing this.”

Garrison looked down the hallway. The woman slid into the shadows. “Okay. But in the end doing nothing is not an option.”

“I don't do nothing,” I said.

“If that isn't the understatement of the year,” Steve said.

Since it received a small smile from Garrison, I'd let the quip go. I took out my phone and sent Ted a text. I didn't have time for a long conversation, and we needed a plan. The sooner Ted got here the better. I clicked on his work cell number.
Morgan dead. Bob arrested. Need you here. ASAP.
I deleted the last four letters. I didn't think I needed to tell Ted to hurry. The brothers were close. Ted was also fond of Garrison. There was no way Ted would stay in Eden with his brother in jail.

“Bob will get hurt.” Garrison paced around the room. The pillow I threw at Morgan lay on the floor. Garrison kicked it.

“He'll be okay,” I said, adding a smile I didn't quite feel to the end of my sentence. “It won't hurt his business.”

Pain flickered in Garrison's eyes. “I don't care about his damn job. I love him. I'm worried about his physical safety. Not everyone is accepting of our relationship.”

“The police won't let anyone harm him,” Steve said. “He'll be safe. Soon, Bell will realize that Bob didn't commit the crime. The police will do a gun residue test. Bob will be clean.”

“Before or after they put him in a jail cell with a few other guys?” Garrison faced the window. The light from the room allowed his reflection to show in the window. The disappointment he felt was clear on his face.

“Before.” I wanted to say what I could to make him feel better. I had a feeling the only thing that would take away Garrison's worry was Bob walking through the hotel room door.

Garrison shook his head.

“Detective Bell wants to find the murderer. He won't delay conducting any test that will help him prove the case. Bob will be safe. I promise,” Steve said.

Garrison whirled and glared at Steve. “You can't promise anything to me. Who you are, an assistant prosecutor, gives you protection. Who Bob is, gay, makes him a target. You can't understand that.”

“I do.” Steve stood near the connecting door. “A criminal gets needed reputation points if they hurt or kill a cop or a prosecutor. It helps a criminal build up a good reputation for prison.”

“I'm not talking about the criminals.” Intensity burned in Garrison's blue eyes. “I'm talking about the police. There are still some officers who'll turn the other way if they see a gay inmate being harassed by others. Hell, there are some who will encourage the behavior.”

“You know for certain that's the truth with the Morgantown police force?” Steve stared at Garrison.

Garrison shoved shaking hands through his blond hair. “No. I don't know that. But, it's not out of the realm of possibility that there's one officer who will. Detective Bell doesn't like Bob or Ted. I don't see him making sure Bob is protected.”

“That's a serious charge,” Steve said.

“I'm not stating what the future will be. I'm stating what has happened in the past.” Tears glittered in Garrison's eyes. “I hate not trusting people, especially those I should trust, like law enforcement, clergy, and parents.”

Steve wrapped his hand around the doorknob to our connecting room.

Garrison gripped Steve's shoulder. “This is why things don't change. People walk away because the truth is ugly. It's hard to deal with it.”

Steve grasped Garrison's hand, squeezed it then removed it from his shoulder. “I'm not running away. I'm going to make a phone call. I made a promise that Bob will stay safe. I'm going to ensure it.”

Garrison went back to the window and looked out into the dark. “We have to do something.”

“We will once a plan is figured out.” I stood beside him. “If the killer is still around it means they think one of us can identify them. The murderer has the advantage as he or she knows who we are. We can't even pinpoint the gender.”

“We have to figure out why they'd want to kill Morgan.”

“Unfortunately, I think Morgan himself is a reason. The man didn't endear anyone to himself.”

“He liked making enemies as much as he did money,” Garrison said.

“Our best bet is waiting until Ted gets here. He'll be able to get us the information we need.” Or at least I hoped when he did, he'd share it.

“Ted?”

“I texted him. He hasn't responded back but I'm sure he's on his way.”

A half-smile tugged at Garrison's mouth. “I'm sure he is. We'll wait until he gets here before we do anything. I don't want anyone getting hurt and neither would Bob.”

“Want me to wait with you until Ted shows up?” I asked.

“No. I prefer to be alone.” Garrison continued looking out the window.

“I have faith that it'll work out.” I wanted to promise Garrison it would work out, but knew it was not in my control. The word promise held a lot of expectation for Garrison, and past hurts.

“I hope you're right. Because I don't.”