Twisted: A Tracy Turner Murder Mystery Novel (The Tracy Turner Mystery Series Book 1) (3 page)

“You mean Frank Walters, as in the golf champion?” I asked. “He was one of our guests, has been for many, many years.” Amanda had made everyone on the team memorize the bios of the VIP guest list, and Frank Walters was one of them.

“Yes, he was murdered in his suite.” Officer Ormond’s voice was still flat, like one of those irritating automated answering systems.

“Oh my,” said Millie, who stood up when the policeman had approached. She slowly sat down back in her chair. Her face was pale, but her voice was firm. “This kind of thing has never happened here before, in all my years.”

“Are you saying Ryan did it? Because we have been together, and he couldn't have possibly done it.” My raised voice made a dozen heads turn, but it didn't bother me. How could anyone accuse someone as gentle as Ryan of something as vile as murder?

Ryan snapped out of his dazed state. “But, but I gave Mr. Walters a massage early this morning. He… he… was fine when I left him.” His eyes moved fast as he recounted the morning’s events.

“Ryan is one of our employees. What evidence do you have to arrest him?” asked Millie, who had watched her fair share of
Law & Order
and knew to ask the right questions.

Officer Ormand spoke to Ryan. “Catalina found Mr. Walter’s body and said that you left his room earlier this morning, around the time that he was shot. You were the last person to see him alive. We searched the spa where you work and found gunshot residue on your uniform. We also found Mr. Walter’s watch and wallet in your personal locker. The case is clear-cut.” He drew a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and threw it in a flat throw to his partner, who caught it with one hand and the enthusiasm of a hungry dog being thrown a juicy steak.

Officer Flint pulled Ryan’s arms and wrung them in one sharp movement behind his back. Ryan winced again when the officer jerked his wrists into the cuffs and snapped them together with a couple of loud clicks.

“I didn’t do it. I don’t know how those things got there. Please, you've got to believe me. Mr. Walters was always good to me. I could never hurt him.” Ryan fought the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Ryan couldn't hurt anyone or anything. He is a PETA member for God’s sake,” I said, hoping this bit of information would make them see the light.

“Tell it to a jury, lady,” said Officer Flint. He shoved Ryan toward the door, his face twisted into a menacing smile. “You’ll have a great time in the slammer, boy. They love your kind there.” The officer’s meaning dawned on Ryan and he moaned like a wounded cat.

“Ryan, stay strong. We’ll get you a lawyer,” said Millie. She pulled my arm to stop me from following the men. I shrugged it off and sped along behind them.

Officer Flint bundled Ryan into the car, his body limp and his head hanging down. Tears began to fall freely and he shook them away, looking up directly at me. His eyes pleaded, but his voice was inaudible behind the glass window. I watched as his mouth said, “Please help me,” and the car sped away.

Making my way back to the café, I couldn't believe how fast everything had changed. My head throbbed with unanswered questions and my mind felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode. I knew only one thing, and of it I was certain: Ryan was innocent. I couldn't bear the thought of him being stuck in that awful place. It would break him; they would break him. I shuddered at the thought.

The crowd in the café had diminished by now, the happy hustle and bustle of the morning replaced by a dark, somber mood. Those who had witnessed the arrest looked at me with accusing eyes as I walked in. They lowered their heads and spoke in hushed tones.

Millie remained where I had left her. She sat with her body erect, a faraway look in her eyes. She bit her lower lip over and over. Not daring to make a sound, I pulled up a chair and sat down. I knew Millie well enough to know not to disturb her when she had that look. She was thinking, and she would share her thoughts when she was ready.

I looked at my second muffin, which looked so scrumptious a few moments ago but now sat there cold, dry, and repulsive. My hunger had vanished, and all I could think about was Ryan’s dismal plea for help.

“There you are Tracy,” said Millie, unaware that I had been in the room for the past ten minutes. “What an awful turn of events. I just spoke to my son, Maxwell, about what had happened. He is away.”

Millie’s pride in her son was evident by the fact that often she prefaced the mention of Maxwell’s name with the words “my son.” It was one of her little quirks that usually made me giggle, but not this time.

“Yes, I did hear that he was at a conference.”

“An IT conference in Maui. He is not due back for three days. I will manage this situation in his absence,” she said. Millie relished the opportunity, as she was doing what she did best: taking charge.

I nodded. “What about Ryan?”

“I promised to get him a lawyer, and I will do that.” After a pause she said, “Tracy, there is something that you have to know about Ryan.”

“What is it, Millie?” Her expression was stern. It made my stomach clench and my throat go dry.

“Ryan was up to his eyeballs in debt. He lived well beyond his means. A few days ago he told me that things had gone from bad to worse, and he asked me for help,” she said.

I knew that Ryan lived a flamboyant lifestyle, but I had no idea about his financial problems. I was the one who poured out my heart to him, but he never let on that he had issues of his own. Was I such a lousy friend that he felt that he couldn't confide in me? What else had he hidden from me? As I learned of his troubles, my resolve to help him only grew stronger.

“Are you saying you think Ryan did it?” The words came out in a rush. I was shocked that Millie even considered he may be guilty. “He is a good person, Millie, I know he is. He can’t possibly have done this.”

“In my position, Tracy, I need to weigh all the options. My gut says that it was not him, but when I think of the things that were stolen…” She interlaced her slim fingers and rested her chin on them, shaking her head from side to side in slow motion. She had that faraway look again, and it was impossible to say what she was thinking.

“I think someone is trying to pin this on him, Millie. I really do,” I said.

“Yes, it is possible that he is being framed. I thought of this too.” She had that look, but this time she vocalized her thoughts. “So it must have been someone who wanted Frank dead and also someone who knew Ryan and his schedule. Maybe another guest or maybe another staff member,” said Millie, who shivered at the thought. “Honestly, Tracy, it could be anyone,” she said with a long sigh.

“So we need to find out who would have hated Frank enough to want him dead,” I said. I was excited that she and I shared the same line of thought. This told me that there was still hope for Ryan.

She nodded her head in agreement.

In my absence, Millie had also set up a meeting with the resort’s Head of Security, Brett Cooper. Brett had agreed to meet us at noon. The thought of Brett made my tummy do a double flip.

For a moment I wondered if this was a part of Millie’s plan to set us up. She had teased me about him ever since he joined the resort a few months ago. If she was up to no good she didn't show it. Anyway, this was a serious breach of security, and it was obvious that Brett should be involved. I thought that I would give her the benefit of the doubt.

As far as I was concerned, getting Ryan out of this mess was my number one priority, and if Brett would help me do that, I would work with him. My involvement with Brett would not go beyond this. It was impossible; there was no time for distractions. The only reason I was doing this was for Ryan.

“I will talk to the lawyer, Tracy. We won’t let Ryan go down without a fight,” she said.

I thanked Millie, knowing she was doing this for me. Her words meant a lot. I felt a little lighter knowing that I had her on my side. She could work out the lawyers while I found out who did this, and why Ryan had to take the fall.

I thought that I should first speak to Catalina. She was the one who found the body, so she must have seen or heard something that would prove Ryan’s innocence.

I handed a box of reprinted menus to F&B and headed off in search of Catalina. A sea of gray-and-white-clad staff gathered in the hallway, blocking the door that led to the Housekeeping department. Sounds of
oohs
and
ahhs
came from them, regularly punctuated with a “
really?”
or “
oh no!”

I twisted my way through the crowd with an occasional polite “Excusi.” Upon realizing I was amongst them, the housekeeping staff scuttled away with brooms and feather dusters in hand. Catalina Sanchez stood in the hallway. At first she looked surprised and then disappointed that she had lost her audience.

It didn't surprise me to find Catalina holding fort. She carried a lot more around the resort than her bucket and mop. Her ears were always wide open and her eyes were sharp and all-seeing. She also had a knack for being at the right place at the right time. So if you wanted to know something about what was happening at the resort, Catalina would be the person to ask.

She saw me and her eyes sparkled. She smiled and revealed large milky-white teeth framed in shocking pink lipstick. She clapped her hands together and began “Santa Maria, Ms. Tracy you won’t believe what happened today. It was a bloodbath. Yah? You see,” she said, thrusting her snow-white pinafore at me.

“What is it?” I asked. My eyes crossed as I tried to focus on what she had to show me.

“It’s blood,” she said in a loud whisper, looking surprised. “Can’t you see? Yah?”

On the floral cotton edging lace of her pinafore was a reddish-brown mark, which was impossible to see had she not raised her pinafore to eye level.

I hesitated but thought I would humor her. “Yes, yes I see what you mean,” I said.

“It was a bloodbath,” she repeated. I was not quite sure what that meant given the tiny speck of who knows what she had shown me.

“Frank Walters was shot. He was killed. He was mu-r-r-rdered.” Her voice rose in volume and pitch with each statement. She grabbed her abdomen. “One shot here. And one shot right here,” she said, clutching her chest. “There was blood everywhere.” Her voice now rose to a hysterical level.

Then she looked from one side of the hallway to the other. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know who did it?” In a deep, husky tone, she answered, “It was Ryan. Our own Ryan from the spa. It was I who saw him. I saw him go into Mr. Walters’ room for a massage. I saw him taking his things into the room. An hour later, I, Catalina went into the room to clean it and he was dead,” she said, her voice almost inaudible.

“Did you hear shots fired, Catalina?”

“No, no, of course I didn't hear anything. I was in room 250, six doors down, cleaning and minding my own business. I was very busy. I don’t have time for anything else, you understand.”

“So you didn't hear actual shots fired?”

“No, but I saw Ryan going into the room and I told the police everything.”

“Did you see what time he came out?”

“I didn't see him after that. I only saw that Mr. Walters was dead. He was lying in a towel after his massage,” she said, her eyes glazed over. “Ryan was arrested this morning. They found Mr. Walters’ stuff. You know, his watch and wallet and things at the spa. I suppose that’s how he buys his fancy clothes. I never thought that he was a thief. I mean Ryan was so nice. He’d always stop for a chat.” She paused for a brief moment. “But he is not just a thief, he is a murderer,” she said with conviction.

“I don’t think he did it, Catalina. I really don’t. Did you see anything else or hear anything?”

“Yes, the room was also very messy. Ryan had even pulled Mr. Walters’ briefcase, maybe to find money. I don’t know, I never thought that he could do such a thing.”

“It wasn’t Ryan, Catalina,” I repeated.

She glared at the intrusion. “Well, the police arrested him. Yah? So it’s got to be him. Yah?” There was no arguing with her. She had made up her mind.

“I also found Katherine Walters’ earring,” she said.

“Katherine Walters? But I thought they were not together anymore.”

“Oh no, they didn't stay in the same room. Katherine Walters’ room was in the east wing. I think she is here to watch the game.”

“Are you sure it was Katherine Walters?”

“Yes, I’m sure. She has been coming here every year with Mr. Walters for the tournaments. I remember her. She liked to give big tips.” Catalina rubbed two fingers on her thumb and smiled.

“How do you know the earring belonged to Katherine?”

“She showed me the other earring this morning. It was a big dangling greenish-blue one with bits of silver. It must have been very expensive,” she said, shaking her head as the large silver-plated hoops in her earlobes jiggled from side to side.

“And you found it in his room?”

“Yes, I found it there this morning.”

“And did you give it to the police?”

“Yes, I did. I saw it shining on the carpet by the bedside when I found Mr. Walters.”