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Authors: Emily Harper

Checking Inn (4 page)

BOOK: Checking Inn
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“She’s going to pass out,” I say, taking in Becky’s stark white face and the weight of her body.  She is  getting heavier and heavier as she slumps against me. 

“No one moves,” he orders and lifts his gaze to the other detective.  “We’re going to need a team.”

At this point I feel like I may pass out.  But I also know what I have to do.  I have to look.  I have to know.

I lift my gaze over the Detective’s shoulder and I think I might be sick.  There, on the bed, is Samantha Manning. 

Her face is pale, her brown eyes open wide, her mouth slightly ajar as though she is attempting to scream but no sound is coming out. 
 
She’s wearing the same red dress she wore to dinner last night and her hands are gripping the bed sheet. 
 
I can see the vivid red color of her nail polish, a stark contrast to the crisp white duvet cover that her body is resting on. 
 
Her throat– oh God, I can’t even talk about it.

Just last night she was at dinner, and now…

Now she’s dead.

The dinner started out fine, and by fine I mean Samantha made jokes at my expense while I laughed nervously.

I felt Vivienne squeeze my hand under the table and I really appreciated her support, especially because Greg was texting and not paying attention. 

And all I can say is, thank God Mom wasn’t able to come last night because she would have leaned across that table and strangled Samantha herself.

Okay, maybe a bad analogy.

Mom could never understand why I didn’t stand up to Samantha in school, but I honestly didn’t think it was worth the effort.  The more you show them it bothers you, the more they will keep on doing it.

Though, apparently with Samantha, that reasoning didn’t really work because she never did stop.  Last night being the shining example.

“And then Kate had those terrible braces,” she smiled and looked at me sadly.  Like she felt sorry for me.  But you know what, no one would have noticed the braces if she didn’t point them out any chance she got.  “It must have been terrible for you getting all that food stuck in them all the time.”

“Hmm,” I smiled, nodding my head.  Two nights.  That’s all I had to do: put up with Samantha for two nights.

“And what’s that name everyone used to call her?” Samantha asked, looking to Tracy, who seemed mortified at the conversation.  I saw the argument on the tip of her tongue and I quickly intervened.

“Brace face,” I offered, subtlety shaking my head at Tracy. 

Two nights, how hard could two nights be?

Samantha shrieked with laughter, her chest inching closer and closer to the edge of her dress with each movement.  It reminded me of a wave at high tide, coming and going just an inch closer every time.  Honestly, I didn’t know how she got those things in there.

Her red dress was skin tight, and without a zipper in sight I’m at a loss for how she got it on.  Her shoes were at least four inches tall and her long blond hair seemed to constantly sway.

I ran my sweaty palms over my blue silk dress (I won’t mention the huge stained caused by Samantha’s drink when it spilled on me) and checked that the silver belt around my waist was still in place.  Getting ready for last night, I had thought I looked pretty nice with my hair straightened, but Greg had just given me a quick smile and a kiss when he walked in.  I thought I would at least get a “you look nice” out of him. 

“Oh, it’s so nice to get away like this,” Samantha said, looking around the room in what I am sure she thought looked like she was reminiscing.  To me it just looked like she was looking for her next prey.  “New York can just wear on you, don’t you think Greggy?”

Greg smiled at Samantha before going back to his phone.  Samantha has always called him that… Greggy.  It makes him sound like a frog.  You would think he would ask her to stop.  He’s probably just trying to be polite, though.  He’s just so great like that.

“I mean, if I get one more desperate person calling me for a review,” she sighed as though her life was plagued with hardship.  “It’s pathetic.”

I attempted a sympathetic smile and swallowed the lump in my throat. 

I desperately called her for a review
.

“And people always think if they put something nice in my room, bring a special gift to the table, it will change my opinion,” she shook her head.  “I write what I want, when I want.”

I had to get that basket of soap out of her room.

“Please,” she put on a high pitched voice, “this means the world to me.  My business depends on you.”

I saw Tracy’s eyes widen while she clenched the tablecloth with her fists.  I looked beside me and Vivienne looked livid too.

“It seems like you have a lot of burdens on your shoulders,” I said to Samantha.  “That’s why we are pleased you could come to relax and get away from it all.”

She looked at me as though she had forgotten I was there and just shrugged.

Let’s just say that was the high point of dinner and leave it at that.

When dessert was served I excused myself and found Becky in the kitchen.

“Oh dear God,” I said, grabbing the young girl by her shoulders.  “You need to go and get Luisa to take that basket out of Samantha Manning’s room, right now!”

“The one I made with the soaps?” she asked, looking puzzled.  “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head.  “I just can’t give it to her.”

“I worked on those soaps all night,” she complained. 

“I know, I know,” I said, peering through the round window on the kitchen door to make sure everyone was still eating and Tracy wasn’t killing anyone.  “I’ll give them to someone else.”

“But you told me to make the lavender ones so it would relax Miss. Manning for the review,” Becky pointed out.

“Becky, I don’t have time to explain.  Just go and get the freaking soaps back!” I said.

Becky’s eyes welled with tears but she nodded.  “Okay, but please don’t tell my mom you don’t like them.  I told her I was starting a new business and she offered to give me some start-up money.”

“I love them!   In fact, I will buy them for every room in the Inn,” I said, desperately trying to get the girl to stop crying.  “Just please go and get them from the room.”

“Okay,” Becky looked joyful at the prospect of so many soap orders.  

“I can’t give you a bulk discount though, unless you give me a deposit.”

“Becky!”

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands.

I got back when everyone was just finishing and Samantha stood up before I could even sit down.

“I’m tired.”

She didn’t even say goodnight.  Just walked away from the table.

Greg and Vivienne left moments later, they both said they had to work early.  Tracy and I sat at the table and neither of us knew what to say.  So we shared a bottle of wine. 

Sometimes wine is all the talking you need.

And I got drunk last night because I wished Samantha was dead, but at the same time I was so desperate for a good review. 
 
And now look where I am. 
 
I am never wishing for anything again.

My breathing starts to come in gasps, and between Becky and myself I am no longer sure who is supporting who.

“Oh Christ,” Detective Gable says and calls the other detective over to help Becky.  I stand in a state of shock, my lungs struggling to open, the oxygen unable to get down my wind pipe, and I start to see black spots appear in my vision.

My shaky hand reaches inside my jacket pocket until I can feel the cold plastic and my fingers wrap around it. I bring out my inhaler, shake it vigorously, and take a long inhale. 
 
My breathing slowly returns to normal and I reach my hand out to lean on the wall but stop before I touch it. 
 
I’m not supposed to touch anything in here.

I’m going to have to keep more inhalers on hand this week.  I’ll have to add it to my list tonight.

“Is everyone in here?” I hear the voice from the hallway, recognize it immediately, and try to block the doorway.  My one arm still clutches my clipboard, my other traps Detective Gable in the room.

“Oh, there you are,” my mother says as she enters the sitting room. 
 
“You never told me the address in Ridgewood.”

My eyes dart to Tracy’s face, but she looks completely dumbfounded.

“What’s going on?” my mother asks, looking at Becky’s limp form held upright by Luisa.

No one answers, and I swallow down the panic.

“What is everyone doing here?” she asks again, and her eyes lock in on the inhaler I have grasped in my hand.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head.  “There’s a fire inspection and–”

“I’m sorry, who’s 
this
?” I hear the Detective’s exasperated voice from behind me.

“I’m Tara Foster, Kate’s mom.  I own the Inn with her.”

The detective moves my arm and steps in front of me, going to the suite’s main door and closing it.

“Okay, everyone listen very carefully.  This is a crime scene. It has already been heavily contaminated.  No one is to move an inch until the team gets here.”

“Crime scene?” my mother laughs, but everyone’s serious faces force her eyes to seek mine.  “Kate?”

“There’s been an accident,” I try and explain.

“That’s not an accident!” Becky finally comes to and yells.  “She’s been murdered!”

Not helping the situation.

“What?  
Who’s
 been murdered?” my mother raises her voice and I wave my arms to try and quiet both of them.

“The other guests will hear you!” I frantically whisper.

“It’s Samantha Manning,” Tracy says.

My mother gasps.

“We really should get the team in now, Ben,” Detective Rice says from beside Luisa.

“Is there absolutely no way to do this without a team?” I ask, pleading with Detective.  “Or, could you maybe ask them to dress in firemen’s costumes?  I could just pop to the party store in the next town–”

“Are you 
serious
?” he asks.

“How long has everyone known she’s dead?” my mother asks, glaring at me.

“Not long,” I say, trying to calm the outburst I see brewing on her face.

“Did you know before asking me to pick up the brochures?” she accuses.

I avoid her eyes and cover my nose again.  “I can’t remember.”

“I want to go home!” Becky wails from besides Luisa.

“Si, I go home now too,” Luisa starts crying.

“I haven’t touched anything, can I go?” Tracy asks.

“When were you going to tell me?” my mother asks.  “You never let me be a part of anything!”

“Quiet!” Detective Gable yells from beside me and I jump as he rubs his forehead in exasperation.  “This is insane.  There is a woman in the next room who has been murdered, you have all contaminated the scene, and you’re asking us to dress up as firemen while figuring everything out!”

I take in his bewildered look and can’t help but frown.  Honestly, if this is the worst he’s seen he needs to work in the hospitality industry for a day.  Last week I had to host the Christian Women’s Alliance on the same weekend as the Adult Toy Tradeshow.  Now 
there’s
 a struggle.

“Okay, I know this is extremely unorthodox, but I am just asking you to see it from my point of view.  You’re obviously not from around here, but if you were, you would know that our town needs this Inn.  It has the potential to be a big source of income, not to mention all the traffic it will bring to the surrounding businesses.  If it gets out that there was a murder here, we are through.  No one will step foot through that door, and everything I have been working for– everything 
we
 have been working for– for the last few years will have been for nothing.”

I look at the hard set of Detective Gable’s face, and shake my head.  “You didn’t know Samantha Manning, but she wasn’t a very nice person–”

“God rest her soul,” my mother interrupts.

“Of course,” I nod. 
 
“But to be honest, I can think of more people that would want her dead than alive. 
 
She terrorized anyone she came in contact with. 
 
Having said that, I know the people in this town, and no one is capable of this, so to punish us all would be unjust. 
 
I’m not asking you not to investigate. 
 
Obviously if there is a murderer out there, I want them caught more than anyone else. 
 
I’m just asking– I’m begging you– that if there is any way to do this without broadcasting it to the world…”

Everyone’s eyes are on the detective’s face.  He studies my face, taking it in with all its utter desperation.  After what feels like an eternity of silence, he mutters something under his breath, calls Detective Rice over to the corner of the room, and lowers his voice so we can’t hear.

“You can’t be serious,” I hear Detective Rice say before shaking his head and letting Detective Gable continue.

“How could you not tell me?” my mother accuses from beside me.  I turn to see her arms crossed and her head tilted up and away from me.

“Mom, I’m sorry.  I didn’t want you to worry,” I say.

“No, you didn’t want me to mess something up,” she says, and although she’s right I can’t help but look annoyed.

“That’s not it at all,” I argue.

“I bet you would have told your precious Vivienne,” my mother says, and it takes everything inside of me not to roll my eyes.

BOOK: Checking Inn
8.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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