Read Lilies That Fester Online
Authors: Janis Harrison
Lilies That Fester (7 page)
The McDuffys were coming to my room at seven. How long would it take to talk with them? Ten minutes? Half an hour would be better. Gellie agreed to meet me in the hotel café at seven-thirty.
In the hall I decided I was too tired to climb the stairs. I found an elevator marked SERVICE and pushed the button. I wasn't sure where this ride would deposit me, but figured I could find my way. The bell soon dinged, and the doors slid open.
On the balcony I took a minute to get my bearings. The dining room was across the abyss, so I started around the perimeter. As I walked, I glanced down to the fifth tier of rooms and located my doorâseventh from the end. I wished I were in bed and asleep. My stomach was full andâ
I stopped and squinted. Was my door open? Silently I counted from the corner roomâone, two, three, four, five, sixâit
was
my room and there was a light on.
was
my room and there was a light on.
I hung over the railing for a better look. Reality took a swing at my stomach, and I nearly showered those teeny-tiny people in the lobby with chicken chunks. I flung myself away from the chasm and galloped around the balcony and down the four flights of stairs to the fifth floor.
Like a shadow with respiratory problems, I wheezed along the corridor that led to my room. Maybe it was a cleaning lady, I thought to myself as I stopped to catch my breath. I eased the door open and peeked inside. From this angle I couldn't see anything.
I stepped farther into the room and saw my open purse on the floor. On the bed was the key card, its plastic surface covered with something that looked like blood. I stepped closer, seeing droplets on the beige carpet. I thought the room was empty until I heard muffled sobs coming from the bathroom.
I nudged that door open a few inches, and my heart nearly stopped. Bloody fingerprints rimed the sink. A bloodstained towel was wadded on the floor. I pushed the door open wider and saw Delia leaning against the wall. Her eyes were closed, her skin the color of ashes.
“Delia, what happened?”
Her eyes opened slowly as if she were awakening from a bad dream. She licked her lips and mumbled something. I
didn't catch what it was, and repeated, “Delia? What happened? Where did all this blood come from?”
didn't catch what it was, and repeated, “Delia? What happened? Where did all this blood come from?”
“Me,” she said. “I could have bled to death, and it would've been your fault.”
I took a step toward Delia. She came out of her daze with a shriek. “Stop! Don't come any closer. As soon as my head clears, I'm out of here.”
“Why are you in my room?”
“I took your purse from the dining room, and I used the key to get in here. I had to know if you're taking this contest seriously. You surely have a list of the categories written down somewhere. This contest is important to me, but nothing warrants booby-trapping your door.”
“Booby-trapping? What kind of booby trap?”
Delia didn't answer right away. She loosened the towel from her hand. With the palm held toward me, I saw blood trickle from a four-inch cut that crossed three of her fingers. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I'm out of the contest. I can't work with my hand like this.”
“Why did you say my door was booby-trapped?”
“Razor blade taped to the door handle.” She gulped and shuddered. “It was a reprehensible act. What if a maid had come by? What if a child had gotten mixed up on which room was his?”
A razor blade?
I spun on my heel, headed for the door. I jerked it wide
open and stared at the handle. Nothing. I looked at Delia, who'd followed me. “There isn't anything here.”
open and stared at the handle. Nothing. I looked at Delia, who'd followed me. “There isn't anything here.”
“What?” She leaned around me so she could see for herself. “It was there.” She held up her wounded hand. “I have the proof.”
I touched the metal lever and felt a tacky residue that might have come from a piece of tape. “Something was here, but it's gone now.” I looked Delia straight in the eye. “I didn't do this. I wouldn't do anything so horrendous.”
“If you didn't put it there, then who did?”
“I haven't a clue, but if it's someone's idea of a practical joke, that person is in for some serious trouble.”
I went to the phone and called the front desk, explaining that an assault had occurred on the fifth floor. In three minutes flat the night manager was on the scene. Delia told her tale. The young man listened, looked at the handle, made a few notes, and assured us that he'd alert his supervisor. He offered to arrange medical attention for Delia's hand.
Before they left, I took Delia aside. “I'm sorry this happened, but I didn't have anything to do with it.”
“I probably know that, but right now I'm in pain and too upset to think about it.”
She turned to go, but I touched her on the arm. “Please don't tell anyone about this. If that person is to be caught, it might be best if he isn't alerted.”
Delia didn't agree or disagree. She lifted a shoulder, and then cradling her injured hand, followed the manager to the elevators.
I looked up and down the hall. There were low-watt wall lights to guide guests to their rooms, but the bulbs wouldn't have been bright enough to show a sliver of stainless steel. The
thought of someone taping a razor blade to the handle was as Delia had saidâreprehensible.
thought of someone taping a razor blade to the handle was as Delia had saidâreprehensible.
Somehow the use of that blade was as shocking as an outright attack. It ranked right up there with the sadistic pleasure of putting laxatives in brownies and thumbtacks on the seats of chairs. I gulped. Or a knife wedged in a cushion so the blade would slide from its casing and puncture an intended victim.
My door. My room. My name tag. My chair. Knife. Razor blade.
A shudder wracked my body. A gun to my head would have aroused the same reaction, except a gun carried an obvious threat. A razor blade was stock household supplies. My God, I shaved my legs with Carl's old safety razor. I'd handled the pieces of steel since I was twelve years old, and treated them with respect because they sliced tender flesh.
I searched the balcony, wondering if the person responsible was lurking about to see if his sick joke had brought results. No one was in sight, but that didn't mean I wasn't being watched. I went into my room and locked the door, putting the security chain on. For several minutes I stared around me, wondering if I was being unduly suspicious, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd been the target. But why? Outside of irritating the contestants by not revealing the categories, I'd been minding my own business.
Before going to bed, I packed all the paraphernalia back into my loaded handbag. I cleaned the bathroom and took a hot shower to help me sleep, but a good night's rest was in short supply. By six-thirty the next morning, I was dressed in jeans, a rose-pink sweater, and sneakers. The McDuffys' envelope waited on the bed.
As I paced, I eyed it and worried about a number of things. After my breakfast with Gellie, I faced a tough day. First
order would be processing the flowersâstripping foliage from the stems that would be below the waterline in the buckets. Once the flowers had revived from their journey, they had to be separated into five groups since Delia was leaving the contest.
order would be processing the flowersâstripping foliage from the stems that would be below the waterline in the buckets. Once the flowers had revived from their journey, they had to be separated into five groups since Delia was leaving the contest.
This afternoon was the tour of Haversham Hall and Conservatory. I was looking forward to visiting the palatial grounds and glass greenhouse conservatory. Back home I was rejuvenating my own gardens, and I hoped to get some ideas I could whittle down to accommodate my newly acquired acreage.
I checked the time again. It was five after seven. I unlocked my door and stepped into the hall. I saw no one, but something was lying on the carpet. It wasn't until I touched it that I thought of fingerprints. It was an empty cartridge of what had once held Schick razor blades. I turned the case over and over in my hand. Where were the rest of the blades?
I crept across the balcony and peeked over the edge to the lobby below. A few people milled about, but even from this height I could tell none fit the description Lois had given me of the McDuffys. I directed my attention to the café. Gellie was already at one of the tables.
I turned the handle to go into my room and felt the sticky reminder of what had happened last night. I looked across the balcony to the opposite tier of rooms. What kind of sadistic mind would think of razor blades as a warningâa deterrentâa threat to keep me from doing what?
I should check on Delia, but I didn't want to tie up the line in case the McDuffys were trying to reach me. I dropped the cartridge in my purse, then stared at the McDuffys' envelope. Where were they? It was almost a quarter after seven.
I went to the phone, but my call to the McDuffys went
unanswered. Now what was I supposed to do? I was tempted to open the envelope, but Gellie was waiting, and a shipment of flowers would arrive shortly. I grabbed up my purse and wedged the envelope into a side pocket.
unanswered. Now what was I supposed to do? I was tempted to open the envelope, but Gellie was waiting, and a shipment of flowers would arrive shortly. I grabbed up my purse and wedged the envelope into a side pocket.
The calves of my legs ached from all the stairs I'd climbed yesterday. This morning I took the elevator to the lobby. As the cage descended, I kept my gaze on my clenched hands. When the bell dinged and the door opened to the lobby, I lifted my head and locked eyes with Bailey.
He was dressed in the same suit pants he'd had on last night. The jacket was draped over his arm, and the burgundy tie trailed untidily out of a pocket. Whisker stubble darkened his jawline. His eyes were red-rimmed.
I stepped out of the elevator, and Bailey gave me a weary smile. “You're up early,” he said. “Got a fun-filled day of sightseeing planned? I never asked when you got into Branson?”
“Wednesday morning, but no sightseeing. This is a working holiday for me.” I nodded to him. “Looks like you had a busy night. Mounting those butterfly bodies must have been exhausting.”
He shot me a sharp glance. “How about breakfast? Afterward, we can take a drive up into the hills and see the view fromâ”
I looked past Bailey and saw Gellie waving from the café. “Sorry,” I said, and was surprised to find that I meant it. “I'm meeting a friend for breakfast, and I'm keeping her waiting.”
I crossed the lobby and sat down at Gellie's table, but my attention was on the ascending glass box. Bailey stood in the corner, staring at me. As the elevator rose higher and higher, his facial features blurred. But in my mind I continued to see his smile and hear his voice.
Gellie touched my arm. “I had the waiter bring you coffee,
Bretta. I've also ordered a fruit plate.” She nudged the colorful platter closer. “Dig in.”
Bretta. I've also ordered a fruit plate.” She nudged the colorful platter closer. “Dig in.”
Food was the last thing I wanted with my stomach in turmoil. How could a man I'd barely met cause me such confusion? With a deceptive calmness, I popped a strawberry into my mouth. As I chewed, I forced myself to concentrate on Gellie.
She wore jeans, a denim shirt, and just the right touch of makeup. “You look great,” I said. “How'd you do it? How'd you lose so much weight so quickly?”
“It didn't seem fast to me. Dropping one hundred and sixty pounds takes time. At the semifinals I'd lost eighty, but I disguised my loss under those old tent dresses I used to wear. I wanted all the weight off before this Branson trip so I'd get the reaction I got last night.” She chuckled. “It was worth all the pain I've gone through.”
“Pain?”
Gellie lowered her voice and leaned forward. “I don't tell everyone, Bretta, but I had my stomach stapled. Doctors only do the procedure when a person is morbidly obese.” She shook her head dismally. “It makes me sick saying the words and knowing they apply to me. My stomach is only a fraction of its original size.”
I remembered the Butterfinger candy bar wrappers that I'd seen on the tray outside her room. “So you can eat anything and your weight remains stable?”
“No. I wish that were true.” She picked up a bunch of grapes and plucked one. Instead of putting it in her mouth, she rolled it between her thumb and index finger. “My body has changed, but I still have the mind of a fat woman. I can't leave the sweets alone. I don't gorge like I used to, but I can eat candy, milk shakes, and brownies in small doses. Lately I've
gotten into the habit of drinking a milk shake rather than eating a healthy meal.”
gotten into the habit of drinking a milk shake rather than eating a healthy meal.”
Her voice choked. “The result is I'm gaining weight. I've put on eight pounds in the last week.” A lone tear rolled down her cheek. “What am I going to do?”
I stared at Gellie, and Bailey's hurtful words slipped over my lips. “Shut your mouth and get up off your wide behind.”
Gellie blinked in surprise.
I gave a rueful grin. “Sorry, but that's what someone said to me not long ago. I took offense, but maybe he was right. I've been on every fad diet that was ever invented. I've drunk grapefruit juice before each meal. I've cut the fat. I've cut the sugar. I've added more carbohydrates. I've counted calories on one diet, and fat grams on another until the arithmetic made me grab a calculator. I can hardly look at a plate of shredded lettuce with tuna piled on top.”
“I know. Statistics show that dieters regain nearly all their lost weight in the second year. How do you do it, Bretta? I'm afraid I'm going to become another morbidly obese statistic.”
“I try to eat right, but I still fall off the wagon and resort to old habits. There's no magic cure.”
Suddenly Gellie waved her hands as if clearing the air of a foul smell. “Enough of this. I'm tired of talking about it. Tell me how you've been? Are you keeping busy at the shop? How's Lois?”
We talked like old times, covered a lot of ground, but I still had another topic that I hesitated bringing upâEffie's notion that Gellie had lied about her arrival time in Branson. Rather than confront Gellie outright, I tried to be subtle.
“I've missed you,” I said. “I'm glad you're here. I was worried when you had car trouble. I could have come and got you.”
“Thanks. Tow charges are terrible, but I couldn't leave my car on Highway 65.”
I licked my lips uneasily. “Sixty-five? I thought you had trouble on Interstate 44.”
Smooth as custard, Gellie said, “Forty-fourâSixty-five, they both come together in Springfield. My car conked out, but it's fixed and I'm here.”
Her tone implied that the discussion was over, but I couldn't let it drop. “Effie says she saw you on Wednesday. In fact she says you almost hit her car when you pulled out of the hotel parking lot.”
“Nope. Wasn't me. Effie's sweet, but her eyesight isn't what it used to be.”
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