Elisabeth Crabtree - Pink Flamingo Hotel 01 - Death by Pink Flamingo (15 page)

“What’s this about the ceiling in 303?” I asked while reading the note.

“Oh you remember, I told you about it before Victoria’s party. Sylvia said she was going to take care of it. I guess she didn’t get a chance to.” She sat back in her chair and looked sadly at her feet. “Poor Sylvia. She wasn’t very nice but she didn’t deserve to have her head chopped off.”

“She didn’t have her head chopped off.”

“That’s not what they said on Facebook today.” She hopped off her chair. “Here’s Tim.”

I stepped back as Tim, one of the other hotel employees, put away his things and stepped behind the desk.

“It’s all yours,” Olivia said to Tim. She turned back to me. “Did you still want to call that meeting?”

I glanced down at the note in my hand. “I guess it can wait for now. Do you know where that leak is in 303?” At her nod, I said, “Okay, why don’t you show me. Maybe we can plug it up before it does too much damage.”

I followed her up the stairs as she pumped me for more details about Danielle,
Sylvia and her new hero. Not sure how much the police wanted me to say, I gave her the bare minimum. Luckily, we reached room 303 before she could weasel any more information, such as what Blake was wearing when he made his heroic save.

Olivia opened the door to 303 and walked to the closet. “
So, was he fully dressed when he jumped in or was he in pajamas?”

Didn’t get there soon enough
. “It was all a bit of a blur.”

“Oh,” she said in disappointment
as she slid the closet door open and flipped on the closet light. She stepped inside and pointed to the corner of the closet. “There it is. It’s all moldy now.”

I stepped in behind her and looked up. Sure enough. A horrible blackish green stain ran from the ceiling down the beige wall. I stepped around Olivia and gingerly touched the substance
slowly making its way down to the floor. “It’s probably a busted pipe from upstairs.” I held up my hand, surgeon like, and stepped out of the closet and into the bathroom. I couldn’t wait to get whatever it was on my finger off. I quickly soaped up. “Let’s go upstairs. Maybe we can find the source of the leak. Hopefully, it’s not something major,” I said turning off the faucet.

“Upstairs?” Olivia asked
, her face taking on a peculiar greenish hue.

I couldn’t blame her
. The fourth floor wasn’t the most pleasant of places to be in the hotel, which was the reason I wanted her to accompany me. “Blake looked so handsome in the pool last night.”
Awful, I know, but I didn’t want to go up there alone.

Her eyes lit up as she followed me from the room and up the stairs. I felt a momentary pang of guilt as I gushed about Blake’s finer
attributes, but not guilty enough to tell her to go back downstairs.

“I don’t understand why you won’t tell me what he was wearing,” she complained as I opened up the door to the fourth floor.

We immediately recoiled back as the combined forces of stale air and mustiness greeted us. I shut the door and took a deep breath before opening it back up again. Holding our noses, we ran to the room above 303. As soon as the door shut behind us, I slid the balcony door open and we rushed out to take a deep breath of fresh air.

“I’m so sorry, Olivia, I didn’t realize how bad it was going to smell up here.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve smelled worse.” She coughed delicately. “Do you smell smoke?” she asked, leaning over the balcony railing.

I shook my head as we
both stood on the balcony, staring into the room, neither one of us interested in going back inside. It looked awful and smelled worse.

“How could anyone
have thought this looked good?” I asked staring in at the horrible décor. The shag carpet was a horrible orange shade that had turned slightly yellow where the sun had faded it out over the years. It went from the floor to up one wall, as though it was growing, trying to consume the room. The other walls didn’t fare much better. Faded brown and green wallpaper, ripped and peeling in places, made up the other three walls. Drab green plastic chairs sat in the corner next to a television set with rabbit ears sticking out of the top. A brown bedspread covered the full bed in the center of the room.

“Got me.”
Olivia pointed to the closet with its speckled mirror. “I guess we should look in there.”

“I doubt it
started from there. More than likely the leak is coming from the bathroom.” Taking a deep breath, I said. “Wait here. I’ll go check the bathroom.”

I rushed through the room to the lime
green bathroom. Finding nothing wrong, I walked back out and toward the closet.

Olivia, the brave soul, joined me. “Did you find the leak?”

“No,” I said bending down and examining the floor. A dark substance coated a small section of the shag carpet in the back corner. “It’s got to be coming from the bathroom.” I sat back on my heels as I contemplated what to do next.

“Can we go now?” Olivia asked
looking nervously over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like it up here. Not since Max found that body.”

I stood up.
With all of the activity last night, I had forgotten all about that. “You mean the one that disappeared?” I asked and then paused, when I realized I had to qualify the bodies now. “Did he find it in this room?”

She nodded. “It was horrible.”

“Did you see it?”

“No, Max wouldn’t let anyone in here until the police came. I was here late that night, covering for one of the other employees. You should have seen your uncle. He was as white as a ghost and shaking all over. He told us not to go upstairs and then he went into his office and locked the door.”

“What happened after that?”

“I don’t know. My shift was up and my sister was waiting on me out front, so I left.”

“Are you sure it was this room?”

“Absolutely. The next day, Lizzie told me that the police didn’t find any body.
Max closed up this floor again after that. He was even planning on putting up security cameras all over the hotel and you know how he felt about those. I thought Sylvia was going to have a fit when he called a couple of security companies asking for quotes. Why, your uncle even talked about bringing in a ghost hunter to investigate the fourth floor, just in case it was really a ghost that he saw. He didn’t get a chance to do any of that though, since he died a few days later.”

I shuddered. Things were getting creepier and creepier.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. Maybe we can check the register and see who was staying in here that night.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“
Because according to the computer records, none of the rooms up here were checked out. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone up here.”

“Why was Uncle Max up here?”

“I’m not sure. I think he heard a noise and decided to investigate. Anyway, no one would believe him. Not Sylvia. Not the cops. No one. I was the only one who did.”

“Why did you believe him?”

“Because I think I know who the dead guy was. About three o’clock that afternoon, something strange happened. I remember that whole day so clearly because Danielle made me so mad.”

“How?”

Olivia frowned. “She lied and then accused me of being a spy. I wouldn’t have had to spy if she weren’t such a liar,” she grumbled.

“Okay, okay. What exactly did she lie about?”

“About this room. See, that afternoon she was dusting the lobby and I was at the desk. She was just about to go upstairs when this funny looking man came in. When she saw him, she went completely pale. I thought she was going to faint and fall down. When the guy noticed her he, like, smirked. They just sort of stood there like that for a long time. Really weird.”

“Did they say anything to each
other?”

“Not right then. After they were done with their staring contest, the little man came over to me and said he wanted a room. Before I could check him in, Danielle dashed down the stairs and came around the desk and told me that Max needed me immediately and that she’d finish checking the guest in.” Olivia made a face. “I wanted to ask how she got that
message, since she had been in the lobby for the last fifteen minutes, but I didn’t want to argue in front of the customer, so I said fine and went around the corner and hid.”

“
What did they say to each other?”

“Nothing really.
Just the normal stuff you say when someone comes in. No, the strange part was that Danielle gave him a room up here on the fourth floor. You know Max never let us rent these rooms unless all the other rooms were taken. And the afternoon this guy checked in, we were practically empty. We only had two or three guests.”

“
Huh. I wonder why she wanted him up here.”

“I don’t
know, but I went straight to Max and told him what she had done. Max was so mad. Only, when he went to confront her, you know what Danielle did?”

I shook my head.

“She called me a liar! Me! She was the liar. She told Max that she gave the guy a room on the third floor. Then she showed us the computer record of the check in. According the computer, she supposedly checked out room 310 to Barney Hudson.” Olivia shook her head. “I know what I heard. She didn’t give him 310. She gave him a room up here. I’d swear to it.”

“Could someone else have come in while you were talking to Uncle Max? Another guest. Maybe she did check out room 310 to a Barney Hudson.”

“If she did, he was the neatest guest we ever had. He didn’t sleep in the bed or use the bathroom.” She shook her head. “He must be invisible too, because the computer says that he never checked out. I’m telling you, the 310 record was a fake. She gave that guy a room up here. I tried to tell the cops, but they wouldn’t listen to Max or me. No one ever listens to me. I think Danielle told the cops that I was a liar. They kept giving me strange looks after she spoke to them.”

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

I pressed my back to
one of the pink marble columns in the lobby, carefully sliding around as Beatrix Allen paced the floor in front of the revolving door. She turned around, her eyes roving from one corner of the lobby to the next.

I noticed her hiding in the ice room near my room, where she was lying in wait for me. I had just come down from the fourth floor and was planning on stopping off at my quarters to pick up some tools when I spotted her.
I still get clammy when I think of how close I had come to getting caught. I had my key out and was only a few feet from my door when I caught sight of her reflection in the hallway mirror. Thinking quickly, I backed up and ran up the north side stairs to the third floor. She must have realized that she had been seen, because I could hear her footsteps on the stairs below me. Her heels made a ratta-tat-tat sound against the wood as she chased me, coming faster and faster.

Determined to avoid her, I threw open the third floor staircase door and ran down the corridor to the opposite staircase. I was
fast, but she was faster. She was right behind me, all the way down. Nevertheless, I had the advantage of knowing the hotel like the back of my hand. I took a rarely used corridor to the poolroom, figuring I could lose her outside, only forgetting, until it was too late, that the police had roped off that part of the hotel, which forced me to back up and race down the hallway. I changed tactics and headed to the sunroom, thinking I could use the side door and reach my office that way, but somehow, she must have anticipated that move. She appeared at the door before I did, forcing me to back up into the lobby.

Now, here
I was in my own lobby, hiding behind a column. It didn’t matter which way I went. She’d see me, and I couldn’t have my employees and the few guests that were left see me running away from her. So, I waited. Always keeping the column between her and me, thinking she’d surely give up and leave at some point. I just had to remain quiet and unobtrusive.

“
Anna,” Tim, one of the hotel’s most helpful employees, called out from the desk, “I think Ms. Allen is looking for you.”

I stifled a groan as I stepped out from the column and finally faced my
pursuer. “Oh, Beatrix, I didn’t see you there.”

Beatrix stood a few feet away with her hands planted on her hips.
She pursed her lips together as she reached into the purse that was slung across her body, bringing out a small little notebook. “Now, what do you have to say about the murders that were committed here last night?”

“No comment.” If it was good enough for
Luke, I figured it was good enough for me. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of the other night. I pursed my lips together, determined to give her as little information as I possibly could.

“Oh
, no, don’t give me that,” she snapped. “You must have a statement.”

“Can’t think of one.”

She blinked furiously for a few seconds. “Do you know who attacked you?”

“No idea.”

She screwed up her face as she nervously tapped her pen against her paper. “Now look, I hate this as much as you do. I like covering fancy parties, dog and cat shows, the latest fashions, social issues, and things like that. Nice things. Pleasant things. I do not like covering death and murder, but if I want to make a name for myself and eventually get out of this backwater town, then I’m just going to have to cover every important case that comes my way, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t l
ike it. Bye,” I said, preparing to turn around and leave her to her rant.

She grabbed my wrist
and tugged me toward her. “I’ve had a horrible night, Anna. The only thing that makes this day even slightly bearable is that the cops finally found Sylvia’s body—proving I was right about her being killed—and that one of my co-workers is doing even worse than me right now. I’m sure she’ll bounce back.” She took a deep breath. “So, I need a bigger story than her and I need it right now. Now, you must have something to say. For Heaven’s sake, two people were found dead at your hotel!”

“Yes, and you can report that I’m aware of that.”

She looked down at her pad of paper in frustration. “Fine, I’ll just tell my readers how uncooperative you are.”

Deciding not to rise to the bait, I said, “Good. Bye-bye.”

“Blake was a big hero,” she murmured to herself as she flipped through her notepad. “That’s a shock considering his record. Maybe that will be my angle. Gardener to hotel security in just a day. That girl, Olivia, can talk about nothing else.” She looked around the lobby. “Where is she, by the way?”

“Blake has a criminal record?”

Beatrix nodded. “He’s got a criminal record a mile long.” She tilted her head. “Didn’t you guys run a background check on him before you hired him?”

I opened my mouth to respond that I had no idea when I snapped it shut. I almost forgot whom I was talking to. I could just see the headline in the morning.
Hotel Employs Known Criminal
. That would be great publicity, almost as good as this morning’s headline,
Double Homicide at the Pink Flamingo
. I cleared my throat. “It’s hotel policy to check our employee’s backgrounds before they are hired.”

“Then how did he get hired?”

Good question,
I thought. Unfortunately, I didn’t have an answer. As I stood there internally debating what to say, Beatrix helpfully answered her own question.

“Of course, he works at that temp agency
down the street.” She shook her head. “His uncle runs the agency. They’re supposed to run background checks, but how much do you want to bet his uncle didn’t do it. They probably lied and told you that he didn’t have a record.” She tapped her pen against her mouth. “Hmm. I should talk to his uncle,” she said, making a quick notation in her pad of paper. We stood there in silence as she made a series of notes.

“What exactly has Blake been convicted of?”

“Oh nothing much. Just misdemeanors. Disorderly conduct, assault, criminal trespass, loitering, some speeding tickets.” She bent her head back over her pad of paper. “Nothing too terribly serious. There’s just a lot of it. It’s kind of sad. He had a bright future at one point. Scholarship to a big Ivy League school. Football. Supposedly an all-star. Best quarterback we’ve had in years. He blew out his knee in the last game of the season and there went the scholarship. His step-father threw him out, and he just sort of spiraled down-hill after that.”

“For blowing out his knee?” I asked in disbelief.

“Tough love, I guess. Although, my sources say there was never any love between them. His
stepfather only cared about winning and said he didn’t want a loser hanging around. I think there was some abuse going on.”

“That’s horrible,
” I said, feeling very sorry for the guy.

“Yeah, I know tragic
, right?” she said with a predatory gleam in her eyes. “Maybe there’s a story there.” She made another notation in her notepad before adding, “Mainly, he’s just a trouble maker and a beach bum. He was kicked out of his apartment weeks ago for not paying his rent.”

That at least explain
ed why he needed a room at the Flamingo
. “Where did he go after he was kicked out?”

She wrinkled her nose.
“I think he’s been living on the beach. You know those cabanas on the boardwalk in front of your hotel?” At my nod, she added, “I’m pretty sure he’s been holed up out there.”

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes.
I knew I saw someone in the cabana the night Sylvia died. He had to have seen Jesse and me with the body.

“
Exactly when did you promote him to hotel security?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s kind of a strange promotion.”

“I didn’t really promote him,” I said hesitantly. “To be honest, he wasn’t the gardener anymore.”

She looked up sharply. “Why’s that?”

“Well … it just didn’t work out.”

Beatrix gasped suddenly. Her eyes lost focus as she looked past me to the blank wall. “Oh, that’s good. Down on his luck, just fired from his gardening job at the Pink Flamingo, local
homeless
hero rushes to former employer’s aid, lands plum job as hotel security.” Chuckling, she began writing again. “Readers love personal interest stories.” She looked up and immediately reached into her purse. She pushed me to the side. “Olivia, dear! Smile!” she said lifting the camera to her eye.

I glanced behind me as Olivia descended the staircase. Her eyes widened in surprise.

Beatrix ran up to her. “I’m dying to hear more about Blake.”

Eager to talk about her new obsession, Olivia launched into a gushi
ng litany of Blake’s finer attributes while I made my way to the front desk.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”
Tim asked brightly as I approached the desk.

“Yeah, can you find me a hammer and a
flashlight, please?” I turned and watched in amusement as Olivia grabbed Beatrix by the arm and dragged her to the dining room.

* * *

Whack.

I swung the hammer and struck in the middle of another
ugly green triangle.
It had to be here
, I thought, as I looked into the hole I had made in the wall. I had a pretty good idea that one of our guests had never left and I was bound and determined to find him if I had to tear every wall down on this floor. As soon as Olivia told me about Barney Hudson, I realized what was making that horrible smelly mess on the ceiling. As crazy as it sounded, it had to be. I briefly thought about calling Ryan, but decided against it. I needed proof, not some half-crocked theory.
Uncle Max had called the police and look where that got him
, I thought, bringing the hammer back over my head.

Whack.

I poked my head inside.

Still nothing. I couldn’t understand it. He had to be here.

I wiped the sweat off my brow with my arm and lifted the hammer again. I started to bring it down, but whirled around in surprise when it wouldn’t budge. Jesse was standing behind me with his hand wrapped around the end of the hammer.

Breathing hard, I pointed to the door, and asked,
“How did you get in? I locked the door.”

He looked around the room in
bewilderment; whether from the décor or the pieces of plaster that I had pulled off the walls, I wasn’t sure. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something,” I
said, wrenching the hammer out of his hands.

“Obviously.”

“How did you know I was up here?”

“I saw you standing on the balcony.”

I blew out my breath and wiped some more sweat off my forehead. “Must have been when I took that break a few minutes ago,” I said, falling to the bed. I laid there for a few seconds while Jesse poked around the room. Remembering why he had left me a few hours before, I propped myself on my elbows and asked, “What did you find out from Danielle’s friends?”

He picked up the speckled mirror off the floor and set it against the wall. “Nothing useful.”

I lay back down. “Oh that’s too bad.”

“All they could tell me is that she had a friend she would call when she was in
trouble, but they didn’t know who it was. They suspect that whoever she was seeing was rich though. Whenever she would see him, she’d come back with a bunch of cash.”

“
Could be Gabriel Carrera,” I said laying my arm over my eyes. “They dated for a while. According to him, it ended a few months ago.”

“D
o you want to tell me what you are looking for?”

I chuckled. “A ghost or a dead body. I’m not picky.
”

“
Anna,” he said worriedly. He knelt down next to me and pulled my arm away from my eyes. He pressed his hand against my forehead. Using his thumb, he gently lifted my eyelid up.

I twisted my head around.
“What are you doing?”

“Checki
ng for heat stroke.”

“I’m fine. I’m just looking for a guy named Barney Hudson.”

“Who did you say?” he asked sharply.

“Barney Hudson,” I repeated.
“Why, do you know him?”

He didn’t answer. He turned around and paced the floor a bit before coming back to stand by the bed and star
ing down at me intently. “Why do you think he’s here?”

I slid away from, suddenly needing to put some distance between us. “Do you know him?”
I asked again.

He sat down on the bed and leaned back on his elbows.
With a small smile, he said, “I’m just curious as to why you would think he’s in this room. Unless he’s hiding in the shag carpet, I don’t think he’s here.”