Flat White Page 14

  ‘I do. And it is,’ I said, nodding thanks to the doorman.

  ‘Who’s your connection here?’ she asked, following me through the grand entry doors.

  ‘My ex-husband cheated with Rachel Slattery. And then married her.’

  ‘And you and she are friends?’ She stopped. ‘You’re obviously more forgiving than I am.’

  That was up for debate.

  THIRTEEN

  ‘Believe me, I’m not that forgiving,’ I said, stepping into the lobby of the Slattery Arms. ‘Besides, Rachel Slattery is in jail.’

  I held up a hand as Helena Margraves opened her mouth to ask the obvious question. ‘Long story. But I’m still friends with her brother.’

  I stepped up to the desk. ‘Hi. I’m looking for Stephen Slattery?’

  ‘Maggy?’ A tousled blond head appeared from around the corner.

  ‘Stephen,’ I said, giving the six-foot body attached to that head a hug.

  ‘It is so good to see you,’ he said, holding me at arm’s length. ‘Beautiful as always.’

  I was wishing I had changed out of my coffee-scented T-shirt and jeans. I loved Pavlik, but Stephen was drop-dead handsome in a little too high-toned kind of way. And he had a bit of a thing for me.

  I took a moment to bask in it before turning to Helena. ‘Helena Margraves, this is Stephen Slattery. Stephen owns and manages the Slattery Arms.’

  Stephen took Helena’s hand, giving her the full-on Slattery smile. ‘Maggy exaggerates. My family owns the Arms. But she’s right that I manage it.’ He turned back to me. ‘Mom and Dad have taken Mia to Disney World.’

  Mia was Ted and Rachel’s daughter. ‘She’s not quite two yet, is she?’

  ‘Apparently they’re easier to control at that age,’ Stephen said. ‘Mom and Dad have a condo in St Pete, so I suspect Disney is just an excuse to have her to themselves for a while.’

  ‘I’m sure Ted can use the break,’ I said.

  Stephen grimaced. ‘You’d think so, given he’s a single dad right now …’

  ‘Right now,’ being the next twenty to life.

  ‘But there’s this rivalry.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t have to tell you how my mother, especially, can be.’

  ‘Controlling and manipulative?’ I suggested.

  Stephen bowed his head with a laugh. ‘Rachel did come by it honestly. Now I would love to believe you’re here just for me, but knowing you, Maggy—’

  ‘Also controlling and manipulative?’

  Stephen cocked his head. ‘Maybe that’s why I’m crazy about you. You remind me of my mother.’

  A shiver that I didn’t bother to try to control ran down my spine.

  Stephen chuckled again. ‘OK, so out with it. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Really for me,’ Helena piped up, waving her hand. ‘Remember me?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said to her. Then to Stephen: ‘Helena is Barry Margraves’ wife.’

  Widow.

  His face changed. ‘Oh, geez, I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs Margraves. And here we are chattering away.’

  ‘Oh, please. No apologies necessary.’ Even newly widowed Helena responded to the Slattery suave. ‘And call me Helena.’

  ‘Helena needs a room,’ I told him.

  ‘I think I can arrange that,’ he said, waving us toward the counter where one of his desk clerks was waiting. ‘For how many nights?’

  ‘I don’t know, quite honestly,’ she told him, looking helpless.

  ‘Not to worry,’ he assured her. ‘We’ll start with one night at our family-and-friends rate and go from there.’

  Until she got her passport. Assuming the sheriff let her leave. Who knew? The way things were going, she and Christy could be roomies.

  ‘We understand Barry Margraves had a booking here,’ I said, as the desk clerk handed Helena her key.

  ‘Yes.’ Glancing at the line forming behind us, Stephen gestured for us to follow him to his office. He closed the door behind us, rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and sat down at his computer. ‘Reservation for Barry Margraves arriving Monday and leaving on Wednesday,’ he said, glancing up at us. ‘But of course tragedy struck on Tuesday.’

  I frowned and turned to Helena. ‘I didn’t think about it until now, but you and Barry both flew in from Denver on Monday. How did you avoid each other?’

  She flushed. ‘I saw Barry’s flight confirmation for Monday afternoon, so I took the first morning flight out. Told him I was going to see my mother.’ The last words faded away like she couldn’t bear to repeat them.

  ‘Your mother lives in Wisconsin?’ Stephen asked pleasantly.

  ‘Of course not. It was a lie, like everything Barry told me about his trip here.’ She said it defensively.

  ‘Oh,’ was all Stephen said, seeming out of his depth. Though I had to believe a career hotelier had seen more than his share of cheating spouses and room hopping. Don’t ask, don’t tell.

  ‘Barry’s room,’ I said to Stephen. ‘Is it still as he left it?’

  From Tuesday to today, which was Friday? Doubtful.

  ‘Let’s see, that was room three hundred and forty-one.’ He tapped on the computer and sat back. ‘There was an interim cleaning on Tuesday morning, since housekeeping knew it was a two-night booking. When housekeeping went in Wednesday morning to turn the room for the next reservation, they found it had not been vacated. Our day manager waited as long as he was able, but finally gathered Mr Margraves’ belongings and repacked his suitcase so the room could be cleaned. I’m sorry.’

  Helena held up a hand. ‘I’d appreciate having my husband’s things now, if I could.’

  Stephen shook his head ruefully. ‘I’m afraid when we realized that Mr Margraves had been the victim of an accident, I contacted the sheriff’s department. They asked that we hold his bag for their pickup. I’m sure after they’re done—’

  I leaned forward. ‘When?’

  ‘When what?’

  ‘When are they picking up the suitcase?’

  ‘This afternoon, the deputy said. Then—’

  ‘So show it to us.’ I was on my feet.

  ‘I don’t know if—’

  ‘Did anybody tell you not to?’ I asked reasonably. ‘Your manager already handled everything, so fingerprints aren’t an issue. And if it helps’ – I reached into my coat pocket – ‘I’ll wear gloves.’

  ‘Those are mittens,’ Stephen pointed out.

  ‘Wait,’ Helena dug through her purse and pulled out a black cloth pair, much more appropriate than my red and white striped mitties.

  ‘Neither of them is exactly police issue,’ Stephen said, pushing his chair back with a sigh. He opened a drawer as he stood up. ‘These will do.’

  He dangled two pairs of nitrile gloves. Just the ticket.

  Stephen, bless him, brought the suitcase in and set it on his conference table for Helena and me to go through. ‘I’ll stand watch for the coppers outside,’ he said with a grin, closing the door behind him.

  ‘He’s only half-kidding,’ I told Helena as I took off my jacket and laid it on a chair. ‘Stephen looks high-class, but he’s got the soul of a cat burglar.’

  ‘He looks like a politician,’ Helena said. ‘Do we trust him?’

  ‘We do. Besides, all we’re doing is going through your belongings.’

  ‘Barry’s belongings,’ she corrected.

  ‘Same. At least now.’

  Her phone buzzed and she checked a message. ‘Aw, geez, Mom.’

  She held it up. ‘I asked my mother to send my driver’s license and Barry’s computer and she didn’t get around to it until just now. Good thing I didn’t ask her for a kidney.’

  I laughed. ‘I hope you told her to send it overnight or it’ll be on five-day ground. At least that’s what my mom would have done.’

  ‘Oh, it was toooo expensive,’ she said, mimicking her mom’s – or maybe it was my mom’s – voice. She pulled a sheath of folded papers from the front zipper pocket and separ
ated out a blue folder. ‘Of course, his passport is here.’

  ‘Which doesn’t help you much.’ Or him, these days.

  ‘Boarding pass, hotel and flight reservations, directions, receipts.’ Helena was picking through the folded papers. ‘Barry insists on printing things out, when it’s all on his phone anyway. I tell him it’s a waste of pa—’ Her voice broke, as she turned the pile over like she could not bear to see them.

  Christy’s name and address were scribbled on the back.

  I pretended that I didn’t notice. ‘Can you unzip the suitcase? I’m having trouble with these gloves.’

  ‘It’s what I found.’ Her voice was a little hoarse. ‘Why I came here.’

  ‘Barry wrote down Christy’s name and address,’ I said quietly.

  ‘Yes. On the back of the very charge card bill that had the jewelry purchase.’ She laughed, but it was more like a sob. ‘It’s not like I had to be a great detective.’

  I didn’t know what to say. ‘No. I guess not.’

  Helena closed her eyes and took a deep breath, gathering herself. As she did, I snagged the papers and, folding them again, slid them under my coat on the chair. No reason to have them flashing ‘CHEATER, CHEATER, CHEATER’ in front of her.

  We had things to do.

  For Helena’s part, once she opened her eyes, she steeled herself to unzip the suitcase, pretending to be interested in the contents. ‘Jeans, tennies, the T-shirt he sleeps in …’

  She sat back sniffling.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said, patting her arm.

  ‘OK? Nothing in my life is OK now. And nothing here tells us anything we don’t already know.’

  I was lifting out folded boxer shorts and socks, tied into pairs. ‘Maybe what’s not here will tell us more.’

  ‘I don’t see his iPhone, if that’s what you mean.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘He always kept it on him or in the front zipper pocket of this bag. Let me double-check.’ She slipped her hand into the pocket that had held the papers and passport. ‘Nope.’

  ‘It’s possible Barry had both phones on him. I know he had the one, at least, because’ – I was going to say I saw it in his hand when he was hit, but instead said – ‘Detective Anthony got your phone number from it.’

  But Helena seemed fixated. ‘If Barry left his phone on the dresser or nightstand charging, the manager might have just put it inside the bag.’ She was working her way across the suitcase bottom and then up to the side pockets and around.

  ‘Stephen said it was the day manager who did the packing,’ I said, surrendering to her need to know. ‘Which means he should be on duty now. I can ask.’

  I stuck my head out the door and relayed my question.

  ‘Stephen is certain the phone would have been placed in the bag with everything else,’ I told Helena on my return, shutting the door again.

  ‘Of course he is.’ She’d moved away from the bag and was frowning. ‘The alternative is that his manager is careless at best or, at worst, a crook.’

  Returning to the suitcase, I went about replacing the shorts and socks. ‘I asked him to double-check with the manager just in case. And we’ll also talk to Deputy Anthony. See if he had it on him.’

  That seemed to placate Helena a bit. ‘Tell her it’s an old one – three or four generations back. I was always telling him to enable tracking, just in case he lost it, and here we are.’

  The man was cheating. Allowing his wife to track his iPhone was the last thing he’d do. Not that I said that either.

  ‘Barry did stay in touch, though,’ Helena continued, a little misty. ‘Even on an overnight trip. But maybe the calls home were to cover for what he was really do— What?’

  ‘It’s just odd.’ I had stepped back from the suitcase, eyeing it. ‘There are no dressy clothes. No gifts. No indication he was having a …’ I hesitated. Tryst sounded too cutesy, affair too long term. I settled for: ‘… assignation.’

  ‘Besides the paper with his mistress’ name and address,’ Helena said, leaning on the chair back.

  ‘Yes.’ I slid my jacket further over the offending paper.

  ‘Right.’ Rousing herself, Helena opened her husband’s kit bag. ‘Toothpaste, toothbrush, razor. But on the bright side, as you say, no lube, no condoms, no Viag—’

  Stephen’s artfully raised voice from outside the office interrupted. ‘Deputy Anthony is here? Tell her I’ll be right with her.’

  He stuck his head in. ‘Done? The deputy is here.’

  ‘Just a sec,’ I said, piling the clothes and kit bag back neatly.

  ‘Here you go,’ Helena said, handing me the passport. I flipped through it before sliding it into the zipper pocket. Barry had not been quite the world traveler Christy had made out.

  I glanced up as Stephen came in the room. ‘Any luck with Barry’s phone?’

  ‘Sorry. He says no phone, charging or otherwise.’

  ‘Thanks for checking, I said, zipping the suitcase and standing it back up.

  ‘I’ll take that out to her,’ Stephen said, lifting the handle. ‘Do you want to stay here or duck out the back?’

  ‘See what I told you, Helena? Heart of a cat burglar,’ I said.

  Helena actually laughed. ‘If we go out the back, I can come back through the lobby with my suitcase like a proper hotel guest.’ She held out her hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Slattery.’

  ‘Stephen. And anything you need, let me know.’

  They both preceded me out the door – Stephen turning left, Helena right. As I picked up my coat to follow, I saw the papers with Christy’s scribbled information on the chair.

  Stephen had already taken the suitcase to Deputy Anthony. I couldn’t very well chase after her, could I? I eyed the wastebasket for a micro-second, then stuffed the wad in my purse and hurried after Helena.

  Stephen must have had the valet bring the Escape around because Helena was already at the car. Or, more precisely, she was behind it, ducking down.

  ‘Who are you hiding from?’ I whispered as I joined her.

  ‘The deputy.’ She gestured to Kelly Anthony, who was maneuvering Barry’s bag out of the hotel.

  ‘Why? She doesn’t know we just rifled through the contents of that bag.’

  ‘True.’ She straightened but didn’t quite step out of the shadow of the vehicle. ‘Police just make me nervous.’

  I felt my eyebrows shoot up. ‘Any reason for that?’

  ‘No.’ She glanced sideways at me. ‘Authority figures, in general, intimidate me. I find it hard to see them as regular people. Take the sheriff. Good-looking, but I’d sleep next to him with one eye open.’

  ‘I do.’

  Now Helena’s eyes flew open and she did a stutter step, causing Deputy Anthony to glance over her shoulder as she trundled Barry Margrave’s bag toward her squad car.

  ‘You … um.’ Helena kept her voice low, eyes on the deputy’s back. ‘You and the sheriff …’

  ‘Are we a couple? Yes. Actually, we’re getting married.’ Time and date to be determined.

  ‘That’s so nice,’ she said, trying to cover her embarrassment. ‘Did you meet at the coffeehouse?’

  ‘We did. But not the current location. The first one collapsed.’

  ‘Financially?’

  ‘Physically,’ I clarified, shaking my head. ‘Pavlik suspected I’d murdered my partner.’

  ‘When the building collapsed.’

  ‘Oh, no, earlier.’

  She was trying to work it out. ‘Your partner Sarah?’

  ‘Heavens, no,’ I said. ‘Sarah’s still alive.’

  ‘Of course,’ she concurred. ‘This would be your dead partner.’

  ‘Exactly.’ I couldn’t help myself. ‘For what it’s worth, Caron Egan was my partner, too. You know, the woman who owns the Morrison?’

  ‘And is alive.’ She was getting the hang of it.

  ‘But a suspect in Patricia’s murder, as well.’

  ‘Patricia.’

  ‘The dead one.’<
br />
  ‘Right.’ A glimmer of a grin. ‘Small world, Brookhills. Apparently filled with victims, suspects, criminals and coppers.’

  ‘It feels like that sometimes.’ I laughed and opened the back of the Escape to get her bag.

  ‘Anything else you need?’ I asked as I set it on the ground.

  ‘No.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘But thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  As I climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition, I wondered if Helena fully appreciated that she was in the suspect category herself.

  A knock at the window startled me.

  Stephen Slattery made a circular motion with his hand, indicating that he wanted me to roll down the window.

  ‘You know that gesture went out with crank windows,’ I told him once I had lowered it.

  ‘I do,’ he said. ‘But miming pushing a button or just pointing down doesn’t have the panache. Have time for a drink?’

  I glanced at the dashboard clock. Four thirty p.m. Too early to go home, but if I went back to Uncommon Grounds, I would have to help Sarah close. Assuming she had actually opened.

  I turned off the ignition.

  FOURTEEN

  ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere,’ I said, as I slid onto a brass-studded leather stool in the Slattery Arms lobby bar.

  ‘Five thirty-five in New York,’ Stephen said, hitching himself up on the stool next to mine. ‘What will you have?’

  ‘Sauvignon Blanc,’ I said. ‘The drier the better.’

  Stephen cocked his head. ‘Has it been that long? I thought you were a red wine woman.’

  ‘I am. And I like oaky Chardonnays when I drink white. This is to keep me from ordering more than one.’

  ‘Because I’m such a stud you can’t trust yourself.’ When he smiled, a dimple appeared on his right cheek. And he knew it.

  I patted the cheek. ‘Because it’s poor form for the sheriff’s fiancée to get a DUI.’

  ‘Ouch,’ Stephen said, pulling back in mock offense. ‘Way to remind me you’re already taken.’

  ‘You’re only flirting with me because I am.’

  ‘Untrue,’ he said, indicating something to the bartender. ‘I flirted with you before Pavlik. And after Ted.’