Twisted: A Tracy Turner Murder Mystery Novel (The Tracy Turner Mystery Series Book 1) (14 page)

I stepped out from behind the curtain and shone the light inside Katherine’s bag. As my hands rummaged inside, I felt the smooth touch of glossy photographs. I picked them up and examined them under the torch light.

It was hard to imagine that she was that flexible. A wave of nausea rose within me at the sight of a woman old enough to be my mum, who had lost all inhibitions, in her lover’s arms.

The distant sounds of wailing sirens grew louder now. In the same compartment was a crumpled paper, which I unfolded. It was a well-creased letter that was addressed to Doug and signed, Barb. I added it to my collection and now my bag bulged like a puffer fish. I pulled out my glasses and put them on my nose. To hell with Nat, I had no choice.

I went to the cupboard, put the bag back where I had found it, and looked around to see that everything was in order. I straightened the valance and double checked that the wardrobe door was shut. One more look inside my bag to make certain that I had the photos, letters, and key card. It was fine. I was fine. I made my way to the door. A quick check revealed an empty corridor so I sailed outside. It was done. I had what I needed.

I hurried into the elevator and hoped that no one noticed my absence. I wondered what Doug was doing in Katherine’s room. What had he been looking for? Then I remembered the message I had received that had almost given the game away. I snapped on my phone and glanced at the screen.

Oh no, busted! I laughed to myself. I was still basking in the aftermath of my successful conquest.

I walked out of the elevator Brett ran past.

“Did you see?” he asked breathless.

“See what?” I asked as I followed him.

“At the ladies’ room… did you see?”

“No, I used the staff facilities. Force of habit.”

“It’s Katherine, Katherine Walters.” And he disappeared into the crowd.

I tried to keep up the pace, but he was too quick. I pushed past and made my way to the center of the flabbergasted crowd. On the white marble floor of the ladies’ room lay Katherine’s body, twisted and contorted in a pool of blood.

I hated blood. I hated everything about it: the sight of it, the stench, the pain that came with it. Pushing past the people gathered around, I broke free of the crowd and ran outside. I clung to one of the white pillars on the outside verandah and couldn’t hold back the hot tears running down my face.

The cool breeze outside brought with it a wave of tiredness that washed over me. It was Friday night and it had been such a long week. I should be asleep in my bed. Why was I here? I don’t belong here, I don’t belong among all this. I’m a fraud.

I squeezed my bag heavy with the contents that it concealed. I was not just an impostor, I was also a thief. Cocksure that she did it, I still had no right to think of her in that way, and now she was dead. What the heck do I do?

I can’t give up. It’s not just about Ryan anymore. Now I had to put things right. I owed it to her. Sure, she had been nasty to me, but I had not done right by her either. The bottom line was I had suspected an innocent woman, sneaked into her room, and stole her stuff.

I needed to go back inside. At the thought of seeing her body again, I felt a lump rising in my belly and filling my throat, swallowing hard. I had no choice. I had to do what was right and needed to find out what happened.

Heading back in the direction of the banquet room, the crowd was far denser and growing. The hushed whispers and quiet conversations had now turned into full blown cries, yells, and arguments as people stepped on each other’s toes, some trying to get away from what was happening, while others who had heard of the incident rushed toward the scene to catch a piece of the action.

Earlier that day twelve bookings had been canceled based on the news of Frank’s murder, and this second incident had the potential to wreck the resort’s image. This time around there was no getting away from it. Millie would have to make a statement to the media.

The entrance to the ladies’ room was crisscrossed with yellow and black tape that screamed
crime scene
. I spotted a police officer talking to an animated Catalina. She had been doing a double shift and had once again been the one to discover the body. I looked around. Everyone was too busy to notice I had raised the tape and ducked into the room.

In front of the room were startling white sofas and arm chairs arranged in three groupings around circular dark brown leather ottomans. White shaggy rugs and free standing lamps dotted the space and gave the impression that it was more a sitting room than a loo. It was the long vanity at the other end of the room that gave it away.

I was always in and out of the toilet so fast that I wondered why anyone would need such luxuries. Having joined the resort, however, I realized their value. The seating arrangements were a must-have for the women who used them as safe havens to grumble and weep away their less than perfect lives.

One of the wooden pocket doors of the stall receded in a smooth motion and officer Ormand emerged. He shook his head from side to side and muttered, walking to the vanity to wash his hands. I giggled to myself. Had he just contaminated the crime scene?

He walked toward Millie who sat on one of the sofas. He was careful to avoid stepping on the dark gray sticky insulation-like tape that indicated the positioning of Katherine’s body as it was found. A pool of blood and speckles of splatter marred the whiteness of the brilliant marble floor with a bloody sneaker print leading away from it.

A shiver ran down my spine. Was this what her life had come down to? Her smiling face and lilting laugh from an hour ago came to me in a flash. Her partner, Gerald, was talking to Officer Curtis. His face was as white as his hair and his eyes bloodshot and sunken. I wondered where he had been when this happened.

I overheard snippets of Millie’s conversation as she spoke to the officer, who was now back on task.

“The sneaker’s a size ten. A similar print was found in Mr. Walters’ en suite. Both were partial prints, so it’s not conclusive. It seems that we have a serial killer on our hands.” His voice was loud and his chest swelled as he spoke.

She cocked an eyebrow and spoke softly. “That’s a bit premature wouldn’t you say, Officer? You were also quick to arrest Ryan Evans.”

His eyes grew large. “This could be an accomplice. We are looking for anything that might have been stolen. We’ll need to search her room.”

“A serial killer and a thief? A rare combination don’t you think?” Millie raised her eyebrows and slapped her hand to her face. “I think I’ll need to speak to your captain. This is getting us nowhere.”

Then it struck me. Ryan was in custody and he was still not off the hook. I took a deep breath in. The air was heavy with the blend of soap and perfume, but it didn’t mask the odor of fresh blood. My tummy began to churn again.

“Burns, still on our radar?” said a familiar voice. I turned around; it was Brett. “In Mexico? Okay, good, I still want eyes and ears on him…” His voice trailed off when he saw me listening, and he snapped his phone shut.

“Burns. What about Burns?” I asked.

Brett turned around toward me, his eyebrows furrowing. “Where have you been?”

“I told you the rest…”

He placed a giant paw on my upper arm and pulled me over to the side of the room. “What are you doing here?”

My back was to the wall and his hand weighed down on my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

He scanned the room and mumbled, “You are not supposed to be here.”

“What? I told you about Burns.” I nudged his hand off and cocked my head to the side.

The softness in his eyes was replaced by a cold hard stare. “Authorized personnel only,” he said pointing at the yellow tape.

I crossed my arms over my chest and bit down on my lip.

“Look,” he said, lowering his voice, “this is much bigger than what we first thought. You need to go.”

I felt the temperature rise and stared back at him.

His eyes still trained on mine, he drew himself up to his full height. His voice was definite and words deliberate. “You need to leave it to me and the cops to figure this one out. Okay?”

“But why? Th-that’s not fair.”

“This has nothing to do with what is or what is not fair.” He paused, his eyes softening continuing to look into mine. “Tracy, please, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can look after myself. I’m not a child.” I shrugged his arm away. I turned my back to him and fought the tears welling up in my eyes. I felt exhausted and humiliated. He didn’t trust me. I didn’t like being treated like an imbecile.

I turned back toward him. He was talking to Heath Jarvis, the young officer who looked like he’d just stepped out of cop school. He said, “As far as I can see it’s the same type of slug that killed the two.”

“Are you certain? Let me see,” said Brett. They flicked through photos on his mobile phone together. “You’re right, could be.”

The officer shrugged. “Gotta take it downtown to be sure. What about that?” He pointed to a video camera in the room.

“Disabled. A guest complained about it around the time it was installed, so we disabled all the cameras in the restrooms.”

Brett saw me looking at him and his voice was gruff. “Tracy, I need to ask you to leave. This is a crime scene. If you don’t go, I will have to ask Officer Jenkins here to escort you out.”

The shame that I felt threatened to choke me, but I spoke in an even voice. “I was going anyway. There are reporters outside. Millie will probably have to make some kind of statement. I need to work out what we say.”

Men, they are all the same: Either they are big babies or they want to be your daddy. To think I was beginning to like this guy. I felt like stomping out, but that would have proved his point, so I tried to smile instead. The ability to pull off a fake smile was an asset in my line of work. It was one of those things, however, that I had not quite got the hang of. My attempt was weak, but sufficient.

I noticed that Millie had disappeared. As I stooped back under the crime tape, I began to work out in my head what I thought she should say in her speech to the media.

I heard the beep-beep of my phone. My spirits rose. Maybe it was Brett apologizing. Reaching down my leg, I realized that my phone wasn’t in its customary spot in my pocket. I was still in my ball clothes.

Careful not to drop any of my clutch’s contents, I withdrew my phone and looked at the screen. The message was brief and to the point:

My head darted from side to side. Everything looked hazy and moved in slow motion, as if I was in a drunken stupor. So was the person who killed Katherine still in the room? Was he watching me? Was the message some sort of twisted joke?

The officer said that the same type of bullet was used to kill both Frank and Katherine, so they must have been killed by the same person. It couldn’t be a coincidence. All this while I thought that Katherine was the killer. She despised Frank and didn’t try to hide it. He was blackmailing her and the photos I had found proved it. I couldn’t have been wrong on that.