Murder With Reservations

Praise for the Dead-End Job Mysteries by Elaine Viets, Winner of the Anthony Award and the Agatha Award

“Brave Viets preps by actually working the jobs she describes in loving and hilarious detail, giving her offbeat series a healthy balance between the banal and the bizarre.” —
Kirkus Reviews

“Elaine Viets is fabulous. I fell in love with her dead-on funny Dead-End Job mysteries, and so will you.” —Jerrilyn Farmer, author of
Desperately Seeking Sushi

“Laugh-out-loud comedy with enough twists and turns to make it to the top of the mystery bestseller charts.”

—Florida Today

“Fans of Janet Evanovich and Parnell Hall will appreciate Viets’s humor.” —
South Florida Sun-Sentinel

“Elaine Viets knows how to turn minimum wage into maximum hilarity.With such a fast-paced story and nonstop wisecracks, never has a dead-end job sounded so downright funny!” —Nancy Martin, author of

Murder Melts in Your Mouth

“Wit, murder, and sunshine … it must be Florida. I love this new series.” —Nancy Pickard, author of

The Virgin of Small Plains

“A heroine with a sense of humor and a gift for snappy dialogue.” —Jane Heller, author of
Some Nerve

“A stubborn and intelligent heroine, a wonderful South Florida setting, and a cast of more-or-less lethal bimbos … I loved this book.” —Charlaine Harris, author of

All Together Dead
and
Grave Surprise

“Fresh, funny, and fiendishly constructed.”

—Parnell Hall, author of the Puzzle Lady Mysteries

Also by Elaine Viets

Dead-End Job Mystery Series

Shop Till You Drop

Murder Between the Covers

Dying to Call You

Just Murdered

Murder Unleashed

Clubbed to Death

Josie Marcus, Mystery Shopper Series

Dying in Style

High Heels Are Murder

Accessory to Murder

OBSIDIAN

Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a New American Library hardcover edition.

ISBN: 1-4295-7203-5

Copyright © Elaine Viets, 2007 All rights reserved

OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

For the hotel maids— the people we don’t see but do need

Special thanks to the staff at the Holiday Inn Express in Highland, Illinois. This hotel has earned its reputation for excellence. Manager Lori Huelsebusch, Julie Genteman and Justin Gibbons at the front desk, and the housekeeping staff of Jan Bryant, Ronie Hanson, Sharon Smith, Cindy Ford, and LeAnne Shoot gave me excellent advice and careful instructions in the arts of dusting, vacuuming, and bed making.

Their hotel in no way resembles the Full Moon, an imaginary hotel in another place and time.

Thanks also to Nancy Genteman, who drove me around Highland and took me to dinner at Farmers Restaurant & Bakery, which has fried chicken and green beans almost as good as my grandmother’s.

I wish I could thank all the booksellers who helped with my books, but there isn’t room. Please know that I am grateful for your help and handselling. Books are sold with love and recommendations, and you’ve given me lots of both.

Thanks to my husband, Don Crinklaw, who uses his English-teacher abilities when he reads the manuscript, and his acting abilities when he says it’s the best yet.

Thanks to my agent, David Hendin, who always takes my calls.

Special thanks to Kara Cesare, one of the last of the real editors. I really appreciate her careful readings and editing. Thanks also to her assistant, Lindsay Nouis, to the NAL copy editor and production staff, and to the folks who do the terrific covers.

Many people helped with this book. I hope I didn’t leave anyone out.

Particular thanks to Detective R. C. White, Fort Lau-derdale Police Department (retired), and to ATF Special Agent Rick McMahan. Any mistakes are mine, not theirs.

Thanks also to Susan Carlson, Valerie Cannata, Colby Cox, Jinny Gender, Karen Grace, Kay Gordy, Jack Klobnak, Bob Levine, and Janet Smith, and to Carole Wantz, who could sell air conditioners in the Arctic.

Once again, thanks to the librarians at the Broward County Library and the St. Louis Public Library who helped with my research. I couldn’t write this without your help.

Special thanks to librarian Anne Watts, who let me borrow her six-toed cat, Thumbs, for this series. Check out his picture on my Web site at
www.elaineviets.com
.

T
he young couple looked like inept burglars sneaking through the lobby of Sybil’s Full Moon Hotel in Fort Lauderdale. They were both dressed in black, which made them stand out against the white marble. At their wedding two days ago, they’d been slim, golden and graceful, trailing ribbons and rose petals through the hotel.

Now they moved with the awkward stiffness of amateur actors trying to look natural. The bride’s black crop top exposed a midsection sliding from sexy to sloppy fat. The groom’s black T-shirt and Bermudas failed the test for cool. They were boxy rather than baggy. He looked like a Grand Rapids priest on vacation.

The honeymooners avoided the brown plastic grocery bag swinging between them, carefully ignoring it as it bumped and scraped their legs. That screamed, “Look at me.” They stashed the bag behind a potted palm while they waited for the elevator.

“Red alert,” Sondra at the front desk said into her walkie-talkie. She was calling Denise, the head housekeeper. “The honeymoon couple just passed with a suspicious grocery bag. They’re getting out on the third floor.”

“I’ll check them out,” Denise said. She was stocking her cleaning cart with sheets and towels in the housekeeping room.

Denise turned to her coworker Helen Hawthorne. “We’ve caught the honeymooners red-handed. I’m going to investigate. You stand by as a witness. I’m rolling.”

Rhonda, the third hotel maid, squawked almost as loud as the walkie-talkie. “I’m coming, too. This affects my life.” Rhonda, stick-thin and excitable, ran around the cart like a dog yapping at a car.

“Quiet, please,” Denise said.

Rhonda shut up at this stately squashing.

A woman of substance, Denise and her cart rolled down the hall with slow deliberation. Helen followed. Rhonda skittered at the rear, skinny body rigid with rage, red hair flying. She looked like an electric floor mop.

As the bridal couple stepped out of the elevator, De-nise moved majestically past them, bumping the groom with her massive cart. The grocery bag slipped to the floor. Cans and bottles clattered on the carpet. The young woman flushed scarlet. The young man stuttered apologies, even though the accident was Denise’s fault.

“Here, let me help,” Denise said, reaching for a bouncing bottle.

“And me.” Helen corralled a rolling can and stuffed it back in the grocery bag. Rhonda folded her skinny frame to pick up a brown plastic container.

Once everything was back in the bag, the young couple ran for their room. Denise waited for the slam of their dead bolt. Then her cart rumbled solemnly back to the housekeeping room.

Rhonda and Helen crowded inside the room. Rhonda’s pale face was set with furious determination. “If you think I’m—” she said.

“Shush,” Denise said. “I have to make my report to the front desk.”

The walkie-talkie squawked like an angry parrot. De-nise talked through the static. “Sondra, I saw two cans of whipped cream, two squeeze bottles of Hershey’s syrup and no evidence of ice cream.”