Shadow of Reality (8 page)

“Let’s go downstairs.” The team went into a huddle.

“We should check that hall, maybe they missed something,” someone suggested.

“Isn’t there an attic to this place?”

“Look for trapdoors.”

Elizabeth and Richard walked on until she noticed something in the wainscoting. “Look! They just said trapdoors, and here one is—now I remember noticing it earlier.”

Richard tapped at the section of paneling surrounded by a narrow molding. A hollow sound answered him. “You’re right. It probably goes to a crawl space that leads to heating pipes, wiring, plumbing—whatever servicemen might need to get to.” He took a key out of his pocket and pried at the molding. The panel wrenched loose from the wall.

Elizabeth bent over and peered into the black space. “If this really were a house in England I’d say that was a priest hole. What a perfect place to hide a body.”

“Don’t suppose you packed a flashlight?”

“No. And it’s sure to be filthy in there—with us both wearing white.” She thought for a moment. “Oh, there are candles in those sconces on the wall by the fireplace. I’ll be right back.” She sped down the corridor toward their rooms, then turned and called back, “Don’t leave that spot—we found it, I want the points.”

In a few minutes, she was back. Richard held the flickering flame in the hole. Even with the little they could see from the tiny light, it didn’t take long for their disappointment to register. There was no body curled in the doorway, and the presence of cobwebs hanging from the pipes made clear the futility of crawling behind the walls in either direction.

Richard puffed out the candle and pushed the paneling back into place. “Well, so much for that brilliant idea.”

“But there must be others. I’ll bet every corridor has one of those for repair access.”

“Right, keep watching for them, and we’ll check ‘em out.”

They turned off the main passage into their own, which still was largely unoccupied. Elizabeth looked around thoughtfully. “They said no guests’ rooms, but empty ones ought to be fair game.” She tried a door across the hall just down from hers. “Locked. Do you suppose we could pick it?”

“Why not just ask the desk for a key?”

Elizabeth laughed. “What logic! I would never have thought of anything so simple—my mind was full of bent hairpins, nail files, credit cards—”

“Credit cards?”

“Sure. It’s supposed to be great for getting into rooms—just slide it down the crack between door and casing and trip the lock mechanism.”

Richard shook his head. “What a life of crime you must have led before I met you. Reading thrillers is more degrading than reading catalogs.”

“Wrong. I learned that little gem from a catalog—they were advertising a device you can put on your locks to prevent them being picked that way.”

Richard backed away, holding up his hands. “I don’t want to hear any more. You guard our territory. I’ll be right back with a key.”

In less time than she could have imagined, he was back, displaying a brass key on the palm of his hand. “They said it should do all the doors in this wing. Ours are the only ones occupied.”

“I’m really impressed. You went up and down three flights of stairs in about three minutes, and you’re not even winded.” She took the key from his hand and unlocked the first door.

“Clean living, good conditioning,” Richard said with a note of satisfaction as he followed her into the room.

“Ugh, I’m glad they didn’t put us in here.” Elizabeth held her nose at the musty smell from the long-closed room. She flicked a piece of curling wallpaper. “No wonder they plan to redecorate.”

A careful search behind and under the furniture—which was pushed to the center of the room—in the closet and bathroom, and behind the curtains, revealed no trussed and gagged Millie. Nor did they find her in any of the rooms on that side of the hall.

They crossed the hall and began working back toward their room. “The rooms on this side all have balconies,” Elizabeth noted. “That’s something else to check.” Elizabeth pulled the dusty drapes open to let some light in. “Burr, it’s cold. If they put her in one of these rooms, I hope they put a coat on her.”

They searched carefully, but found nothing. “Oh, phooey! And I thought we had such a clever idea. Someone probably found her an hour ago downstairs while we’re still grubbing around up here.”

“Well, there’s only one room left, then we can go get some tea.” Richard fit the key into the door of the room next to his.

“I thought it was getting close to tea time. I’m hungry. It doesn’t—”

Richard stopped so abruptly Elizabeth banged into him. “Shh, someone is taking a nap in here.” He began backing out of the dark room.

At the door Elizabeth stopped and gave his back a shove forward. “Idiot! That must be Millie! No one’s staying in here.” She sidestepped Richard and crossed the room to open the drapes. “My, but it smells musty in here.”

Elizabeth turned back just as Richard pulled the blankets off the form on the bed. One hand flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp. “It…it’s that actor…the one in my room the first night!”

Elizabeth held her breath while Richard felt the limp wrist, then unbuttoned the man’s shirt and laid a hand on his chest. Finally Richard looked at her, his face grim.

“I’m afraid he’s not acting now.”

Chapter 6

Minutes later

Elizabeth didn’t faint this time, but once back in her sitting room, she huddled in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, and did her best to stop shivering. Dr. Pearsall and the hotel manager, Mr. Hamlin, arrived promptly at Richard’s summons.

“Where is the patient?” Dr. Pearsall was already putting his stethoscope to his ears.

Elizabeth rose to go to the next room with the others, but Richard held out a restraining hand. “Don’t you think you should wait here?”

She shook her head firmly, and Richard gave way. In the room, however, Elizabeth sat where she could watch the men work without being obliged to look at the body.

“I don’t understand this at all.” The manager paced around the small room. “No one is registered for this room, and with our security, it’s not possible for a vagrant to slip in.  At least, I would have said it wasn't possible," he added hurriedly when others registered his words with skeptical looks.

Dr. Pearsall examined the Harris tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. “I don’t think he was a bum; his clothes are good quality.” He put his hand in each pocket. “No ID, nothing—not a coin or a piece of string or anything.”

Elizabeth pushed the blanket back from her shoulders and spoke for the first time since entering the room. “But he must have been staying in here because the room is warm. The unoccupied ones were icy.”

Mr. Hamlin shook his head. “No, the heat in this room is controlled by the thermostat in the room next door. It’s a crazy system, one of the things we plan to fix when we remodel. No two people ever want their rooms the same temperature—somebody always complains.”

The hotel manager began pacing again. “This is most awkward. With the landslide business we could have absolute panic if the guests learn they’re stranded here with a live corpse.”

Elizabeth gave a nervous giggle.

“Oh, I meant a real corpse, of course. This hotel has built a nationwide reputation with our mystery weeks—I don’t want anything to put a damper on it. Do you have any idea yet what he died of, Doc?”

Dr. Pearsall wiped his forehead. “The way he’s lying and all, looks like he just went to sleep and didn’t wake up. I mean, there aren’t any visible signs of any problems. But this is my first time trying to determine such a thing, you know—other than with the cadavers in med school, of course.”

“A man lies down in all his clothes for a nap in an unoccupied room that’s supposed to be locked, and decides not to wake up?” Richard’s voice held more than a hint of scorn.

“I agree it sounds preposterous,” the doctor said, although Mr. Hamlin looked as if he’d be happy to let the matter drop right there. “Of course, what we need are lab facilities. The coroner’s autopsy will tell us everything we need to know.”

“That’s great. And how do you propose to get the…er, body to the coroner?” The manager faced the doctor.

Richard saved the uncomfortable doctor from having to answer the unanswerable. “Do you have any idea how long he’s been dead?”

Dr. Pearsall turned back to his patient, wiggled the man’s slack jaw and bent the fingers on his left hand back and forth. “No sign of rigor mortis setting in yet, so it can’t have been long, two or three hours.” He put his hand on the pale forehead. “Body temp gone, though. Say three hours.”

Everyone looked at their watches. “Right after lunch,” Elizabeth said.

“Yeah, that’s about right. One o’clock or so, in very general terms, you understand. Without actual tests—” the doctor hedged, but Elizabeth wasn’t listening. She and Richard had been on this floor by one-thirty. There had been a few members of other teams poking around, but had she noticed anyone in this hall? Maybe she had seen the man and thought he was another player? She wished she could remember something helpful.

“Best to leave him here until we can get him to the proper facilities?” Dr. Pearsall asked.

“Yes. By all means.” It was clear Mr. Hamlin didn’t want any corpses carried through his hotel in broad daylight. “And we’ll keep this unfortunate event just between those of us in this room—no need to worry the others. Right?”

“Worry us about what?” A jaunty voice made them all turn to the doorway. “I say Elizabeth, have I been stood up for tea?”

“Oh, Gavin, I’m sorry. I forgot. We found this…”

At her gesture toward the bed Gavin came further into the room, putting his glass in his eye just as Hercule Poirot would have done. “You don’t mean he’s really copped it this time?”

“What do you mean ‘this time’?  Do you know him?” The manager showed signs of relief.

“Not exactly what you’d call knowing. We only met once. But he is—was—one of the actors.”

“Get Stark up here!” The manager looked around for a telephone, then realized there wasn’t one in the room.

“Shall we move next door? The parlor is more comfortable,” Richard suggested, then led the way.

“Yes, yes. Glad you find it so. The tower rooms really are quite nice.” Mr. Hamlin spoke like a recording. “That is, they will be when they’re redone.”

Weldon Stark answered his summons promptly, but his comments only added to the confusion. “No, I’ve never seen him before. What made you think he was part of my cast?”

“That’s what he told me,” Gavin said from where he sat on the sofa beside Elizabeth. “A surprise bit that we hadn’t rehearsed. Some brain wave Stark added at the last minute.”

“He told you? When?”

Elizabeth spoke up. “The first night. After the landslide. He was in my bathtub. Scared me to death, but he told Gavin it was just part of the script.”

“That’s right.” Gavin took up her story. “But after the stunt went so awry, scaring Elizabeth so badly, I told him to tell you we’d just have to scrub that bit.”

Weldon Stark pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Well, he was lying. He was definitely not part of my cast. There was nothing like that in the scenario.”

“Quick thinking on his part,” Richard said.

“But if he wasn’t part of the play, what was he doing in my room?” Elizabeth’s hand went to her throat, her dark eyes were wide and round.

“Trying to shelter from the storm?”

“A journalist looking for a backstairs story?”

The suggestions seemed weak, but Elizabeth didn’t like the alternative that occurred to her—he had chosen a woman’s room in an isolated part of the hotel…

But Mr. Hamlin’s mind was working in another direction. “Miss Allerton, do you have anything of value with you? Jewelry, perhaps?”

Elizabeth laughed. “I’ve never owned anything worth stealing. Most of the things I brought this week are rented. Oh, except my grandmother’s pearl brooch, which I wore the first night—” She broke off abruptly, then rushed to her room and yanked open the top dresser drawer. Nothing had been touched.

When she returned, smiling with relief, Gavin was questioning Richard, “Do you have anything someone might want to steal—old books or manuscripts with you? Anything in your research notes?”

Richard made a wry face. “I only wish I did.”

“Well,” Gavin said, “it seems clear that whatever he was up to, it was no good. Why else would he be so careful not to carry any identification?”

“The only thing to do is to leave him right where he is until we can contact the authorities in a day or two. Whatever he was doing, he’s no danger to anyone now.” The manager turned to Stark. “I suggest you go right ahead with your program as if nothing happened. We all agreed before you came that it would be best to say nothing to alarm the other guests.”

They hadn’t exactly agreed earlier, but everyone seemed in agreement now. As the others were leaving, Gavin turned to Elizabeth. “Tea time is over in the lounge, but shall I order you some from the kitchen?”

Elizabeth laughed. “If chicken soup is Jewish penicillin, tea must be British Valium. But it’s not such a bad idea. I’ll take a cup, nice and strong with lots of milk, please.”

“Something stronger for you?” he asked, looking at Richard.

“No. Thanks. Tea for me, too.”

Since the hotel offered no room service, Gavin departed for the kitchen. Richard turned to Elizabeth and put his arms around her comfortingly. “Are you all right?”

She gave a little choked laugh and nodded, her head rubbing against his chest. “Yes, I’m fine. Really. Strange isn’t it, but I was more upset when he was acting than when it was for real.”

“Do you want to move to another room?”

“No, not at all. But thank you for asking, Richard, that’s very thoughtful of you.” Who would have guessed Richard would be so sensitive? She didn’t want to move to another room, and neither did she want to move from the comfort of his arms at the moment. “But I can’t help thinking—There ought to be something we could do for that poor man next door. I mean, it’s too late even for any sort of last rites or anything, but shouldn’t we, er—“ She caught her breath at her own words, “that is—pray or something?  I noticed a Gideon Bible in my room, maybe…I don't know. Maybe I’m being silly, but he probably didn’t have any idea he was going to die—and then suddenly…” She shivered, and Richard held her tighter.