2 A Dyed Blonde and a Dead Body (4 page)

'Did she say where she was staying?" Bekki asked hopefully.

"Actually, she asked me to deliver her shoes to her motel," he chuckled and shrugged. "With the tip she left me I gladly agreed. She's staying at Harroway Harbor."

"Great, thanks!" Bekki smiled as she clutched the scarf. "I'm sure she'll be glad to get this back."

"No problem," the shop owner nodded and then lowered his voice. "Did you hear anything else about Lydia? Do you think she'll be buried here?"

"I don't know," Bekki frowned as she considered this. "Nick did say her family was contacted, so I guess they will be making the arrangements."

"So sad," the shop owner sighed with a slow shake of his head. "I never would have thought Lydia would do something like that."

"Did you know her well?" Bekki asked curiously.

"Not as well as I thought," he frowned and stared hard at the counter top. "I just don't understand it. She never seemed anything but happy."

"I know," Bekki nodded in agreement. "She certainly didn't seem to be someone who was giving up on life."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as a wry smile reached his lips. "Well, you know what they say, you never truly know everything about anyone."

"I guess so," Bekki gave the back of his hand a gentle pat. "Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome," he smiled as he turned back to the necklaces he was arranging. As Bekki stepped out of the shop it struck her that so many people seemed to be stunned by Lydia's suicide, and yet none of them questioned whether it was true. Just as Nick had pointed out, all of the evidence made it a clear suicide. But what about Lydia herself? Nothing about the woman Bekki had known pointed to her being depressed or upset about life. That had to count for something didn't it?

The Harroway Harbor was right at the edge of the town square. It was a small motel with only twelve rooms, but it did a decent enough business. Travelers would often stop over on their way to somewhere else. Family and friends of those who lived in town would stay there. It had a good reputation for being clean and friendly. But, it was certainly not a place that Bekki would expect a woman to stay who was as well off and used to the finer things of life as Julie seemed to be. On the way to the motel she stopped off at the salon and gathered up a few brochures. She couldn't exactly just walk into the motel with no purpose, she needed an excuse for being there. When she arrived at the motel she paused outside and considered what she was about to do. Nick had made it clear that he wanted her to stay out of it. She didn't think breaking and entering really counted as staying out of it.

She closed her eyes briefly and remembered the kiss they had shared in the bed of his truck. It had been one of the most memorable she had ever experienced. She knew there was so much more to explore between them. If she was caught committing a crime, would that be it for them? As much as she valued her chance to get to know Nick again, that did not stop her from wanting to find out the truth for Lydia. After all, no one else was looking for an explanation, and if Bekki let it go, whatever family Lydia had would spend the rest of their lives believing that their loved one had committed suicide. And a murderer would get away with a terrible crime.

More determined than ever, Bekki pulled open the door of the motel and stepped inside.

***

"Hi," Bekki smiled sweetly at the clerk behind the counter. He looked like he was barely out of his teens and his mind was on the computer game he was playing. "I run the beauty salon in town, and I was wondering if I could just drop a few brochures off, near the elevators and in the common areas. Would that be okay?"

"Sure," he shrugged, barely looking away from the screen.

"Thanks," Bekki hurried off before he could change his mind. Once she was in the hallway that led to some of the rooms, she realized she still had no idea what room the woman was staying in. The rooms had thick doors and no way to peer inside of them. None of them had a big sign outside declaring that a very wealthy woman was staying there. She was starting to lose confidence in her plan when she turned the corner in the hall. She noticed a cleaning cart outside one of the rooms. If anyone knew everything that happened in a motel, it was the maid. Just as she reached the cart, the maid stepped out of the room it was parked in front of and reached for a spray bottle on the top of the cart.

"Hello," Bekki smiled at the young woman. She recognized her from the salon, she was sure of it. "I'm just dropping off some brochures."

"Oh, okay," the woman smiled in return and snatched up a clean rag.

"Crazy everything that's been happening around here, huh?" Bekki asked casually as she lingered by the cart.

"Sure is," the woman agreed with a light shrug. Bekki winced inwardly as she realized the maid wasn't the talkative type. She was young, and seemed to be dedicated to her job, or perhaps she had just learned to stay out of the guests' business. Bekki lowered her voice a little, as if she was sharing a secret as she spoke.

"You know I had a customer today, I could have sworn that she was a celebrity or something. Have no idea what she's doing in Harroway," she said shifting gears into a more gossipy tone. Her clear blue eyes searched the woman's face for any sign of recognition. She didn't have to wait long.

"Oh, you mean the rich lady?" the young girl inquired. "She's staying here. In room nine. I just cleaned it," she grinned, but then her smile faded. "I don't know how it is that someone can have so much money and travel so lightly. I thought there would be lots of suitcases and dresses in the closet, but nothing,” she raised her eyebrows with a surprise. “Just one little bag."

"Really?" Bekki said thoughtfully. "Well maybe she's roughing it," she laughed a little.

"Maybe," the woman grinned. "Anyway, I have to get back to work," she offered another polite smile to Bekki and then ducked back into the room she was cleaning. Bekki noticed the key ring hanging off the end of the cart. It appeared to contain the keys for each of the rooms, as each was labeled with a number. She waited until she heard the squeak of the spray bottle, then swiftly snatched the keys. She held them tightly to keep them from jingling as she walked down the hall to room nine. With a quick glance down the hallway she unlocked the door and stepped inside. She closed the door swiftly behind her. She knew that she wouldn't have much time to look. If the maid found the keys missing, she would be in serious trouble. What the maid had said was true. There was barely any luggage, or anything else for that matter. Nothing in the bathroom, nothing in the trash can, nothing at all to implicate Julie. Bekki was just about to give up when she noticed something on the desk. It was a dark blue notepad. The same color paper that was used for Lydia's suicide note.

“This is it!” Bekki squealed as she snatched up the notepad. She was certain that with this as proof, Nick would have to believe her. She tucked it behind her back under her blouse and hurried out of the room. She was just dropping the keys back onto the cart, when the maid stepped out of the room. She looked at Bekki strangely as if she wondered if she had stood there the entire time.

“Is everything okay?” she asked suspiciously.

“I'm sorry I was so rude earlier,” Bekki said quickly, her heart pounding as she wondered if the maid had seen her with the keys. “I didn't even give you a brochure. Come in any time, I'll give you a free style with a cut or a manicure if you prefer, okay?”

The woman looked a little skeptical at first, but then the offer of a freebie coaxed a smile out of her.

“Great, thanks,” she nodded and accepted the brochure. “I'll be in soon,” she promised. Bekki left the motel as fast as she could, glancing in both directions to make sure that Julie was not on her way back. Now she was certain that the woman whose hair she had just touched up and styled was not just a very wealthy woman, but a cold blooded killer. She didn't want to chance a face to face encounter with Julie just yet. She needed to get Nick on her side first.

Chapter Three

When she returned to the salon she had hoped she would have time to call Nick, but she found a few customers waiting outside.

“Hi ladies,” she managed to smile at them. As the gloom of the day had begun to wear off people wanted their curls freshened or their style primped for the funeral. Bekki knew what they really wanted to do was gossip about Lydia. She unlocked the door and allowed the customers in, her mind still spinning with the evidence she had found.

“I for one saw it coming,” one of the women said to the other. “It was obvious. That bakery was never going to make it. It's clear she was having financial trouble.”

Bekki rolled her eyes and ignored the rumor. She knew that Lydia's business had been doing well. Once she had each of the ladies settled in chairs, she slipped the notepad out of her blouse and into the top drawer of the receptionist desk. She hoped that Nick would still consider it usable evidence even if he wasn't able to lift prints off it. At least it would convince him that she was right, and maybe he would begin a real investigation.

She hurried the customers through their hairstyles. Luckily they were so busy talking that they didn't notice Bekki being a little less friendly than usual. Despite the fact that Bekki was rushing, when she glanced at the clock it was nearly time to close. She took payment from the women and thanked them, but refused to be drawn into a longer conversation. When they still lingered she cleared her throat.

“I'm sorry ladies, but I really need to be closing up,” she attempted to explain.

“Oh, of course,” one of the women said. “It's just feels so eerie walking past the bakery,” she sighed.

“It is,” Bekki nodded. “Maybe you could go around the other way.”

'And miss out on all the drama?” the other woman gasped and winked lightly. “Now Bekki, we couldn't possibly do that.”

Bekki smiled a little, but she didn't want to laugh at Lydia's fate. She didn't want to consider it nothing more than drama. She was a person who had been living the life she wanted, and for some reason, Julie Brentwood had taken that opportunity from her. Bekki was going to find out why.

After she closed up for the night she noticed Morris escorting a man into the bakery. She only caught a glimpse of his face and his expensive suit, but it was enough for her to recognize him. It was Dan Brentwood, Julie's husband! What was he doing going into the bakery? She sneaked up closer to the bakery in time to hear their conversation.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Morris said politely. "Your mother had become a part of our little town, and we're here to help you, with whatever you may need."

"Thank you," Dan replied, his voice trembling as he spoke. Bekki gasped as she heard Morris declare that Dan was Lydia's son. They didn't share a last name, but she was sure there were any number of explanations for that. If Lydia wanted a private life in contrast to her son's very public one, then she might have been using her maiden name. She stepped closer to the bakery and peered through the front window as Morris walked Dan inside. She watched as Dan paused in front of the counter. All evidence of the suicide had been removed, but Dan seemed to instinctively know the last spot where his mother had been.

“How could this happen?” she heard him sob as he leaned on the counter for support. “Why didn't she just call me?”

“I'm so sorry sir,” Morris said nervously, overwhelmed and uncertain as to how to comfort the man. Bekki drew back into the shadows when Dan turned to look out the front window of the bakery.

“If only I had known,” he said sadly, staring through the thick glass.

***

On the way to her house on Rose Hill Drive, she called Nick. After several rings she heard his voice mail message.

“Nick, it's Bekki. Call me please,” she said swiftly. When she drove past Nick’s house she noticed that his car was not in the drive. Bekki’s house was dark when she entered it. The shadowy environment gave her a sudden flashback to walking into the back of the bakery. She tried to ignore the unease she felt in the pit of her stomach and flipped the hall light on. As she walked further into the house she dialed Nick's number again. Once again she got his voice mail. She was getting frustrated. She wanted to prove to him that there was a reason to suspect that Lydia had been murdered. She couldn't do that if he wouldn't answer her calls.

"Nick," she pleaded. "It's really important, please, I need to talk to you. I've got real evidence that Lydia didn't kill herself. It wasn't a suicide Nick, I swear."

She wondered where he could be, what he could be doing that he wasn't answering the phone. Then all at once she remembered. She was supposed to meet Nick for dinner. She glanced down at her watch to see that it was well after seven. The numbers on her watch suddenly blurred as a sharp pain flooded her head from the base of her skull. She was aware that something had struck her very hard from behind, and then her body collapsed to the floor as the pain overtook her. Through barely parted lashes she caught sight of a hand reaching down for the notepad that had landed on the floor beside her, then she was consumed by darkness.

***

When Bekki woke up, the first thing she was aware of was severe pain. She felt as if her entire head was being beaten like a drum from the inside. The more she moved the harder the drumming. Reluctantly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position on the floor. She noticed the notepad was gone. A dazed glance at her watch showed that it was now well after midnight. She had been laying on the floor for hours. Shakily she dialed Nick's phone number. She pressed the phone against her ear and closed her eyes to hold back her tears.

"Please answer," she whispered. As if he had heard her, Nick's voice came on the line.

"Bekki?" he asked sleepily. "Are you okay?"

"Someone attacked me," she murmured breathlessly. Suddenly she was aware that whoever had attacked her was likely Lydia's killer and could easily still be in the house. "Nick please, will you come over?" she asked. "I'm sorry, so sorry, please will you just…”