Coming Unclued (34 page)

“Ma’am?”

“What?” I snapped. Couldn’t he see I was in pain?

“Do you need help? Should I get someone?”

“I’m fine.”

Why did I say that? I’d never been less fine. Why must I always be so brave? I took a couple of steps so that I was inside the lodge. At least it was warm, though it was probably too late to save my extremities.

“You sure I can’t help you?”

“Uhh,” I grunted and waved the man away.

Perhaps I could remain in the entranceway until Julie or Rose wandered by, bloated from their delicious dinner.

Without the doorframe to lean against, however, I didn’t have the fortitude to remain standing. I slumped over and sank to my hands and knees. In this position my back didn’t hurt quite so much. I crawled forward a few inches. Painful, but workable. Maybe I could do this. I would crawl through the lobby back to our room.

I inched my way across the shockingly dirty floor. There were cheery sounds of a piano and people singing
Deck The Halls
coming from somewhere close by. The hoi polloi making merry.

“Excuse me,” the voice said, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Well obviously I wasn’t all right. “I’m fine,” I gasped. “Do you happen to know where the elevator is?”

“It’s over there by front desk. Do you need some help?”

“I’m fine,” I repeated. “My back went out. Nothing to worry about.” It hurt too much to lift my head. “Am I going in the right direction?”

“Just head due north,” said the voice.

Did he think I was carrying a compass?

“I’ll walk beside you so you don’t get off course. Does this happen often?” the man asked.

Constantly. I’m constantly found on my hands and knees in hotel lobbies.

“No,” I gasped.

“A little to the left. There you go.”

Peering through my orange bangs I could see the elevator doors.

“Could you press the button for me? The down button.”

“Sure,” he said, jovial as all get out. “Bet you’ll be glad to get back to your room.”

Truer words were never spoken.

“Hell of a cold snap out there,” he said, “though I don’t mind. It’s cheerful.”

Just what I was thinking. Cheerful.

“Hmmm. Very Christmassy.”

The elevator doors opened, and a family dressed in bathing suits and towels appeared.

“Could you hold the doors?” I asked the man. “And thank you,” I said. “I’ve got it from here.” I crawled into the elevator and the family scrunched against the walls, desperate to get away from the crazy lady. “Basement?” I grunted. “Are we going to the basement?”

“We’re going to the pool,” said one of the kids.

“Gabby,” admonished her mother, in a ‘don’t talk to the crazy lady voice.’

“Is it in the basement?”

“Yes,” said the father.

Okay. Good. No one said anything as the elevator sank into the basement. There was a conspicuous silence permeating the space.

The elevator doors creaked open and the family huddled in silence as I crawled out. “It’s my back,” I yelled. Honestly, had they never encountered the disabled before? I crooked my neck and managed to see an arrow pointing in the direction of the guest rooms.

I crawled past the ice machine and the laundry room and a staff room, where a chambermaid sitting on a beige couch gave me a bored look before going back to her book. It was exhausting, crawling was.

Room 111. That was us. Our home away from home. Bracing myself against my knees and one arm, I knocked on the door. “Open up,” I called.

After an interminable amount of time Julie finally opened the door.

“Where were you?” she asked. “We were so worried when we got back and you weren’t here.”

“Move,” I snarled, and inched past her.

“Why are you crawling? Should I even ask why you’re crawling?”

I didn’t answer her, nor did I have to crawl far. I crept to the middle of the room, which was about a five second crawl from the door, and carefully eased myself down onto the worn carpet.

“Careful,” said Rose, “There’s some unidentified stain right there by your nose. I can’t believe there’s people who pay good money to spend Christmas in a little room like this.”

I was past caring about stains.

“Probably semen,” continued Rose. “I saw a program about it on one of those news shows. All over the walls too. Hotels are terrible for semen.”

Julie stepped away from the wall she was leaning against. “How would semen get on the walls?”

“Tell her Val,” said Rose, clicking off Jeopardy.

Julie bent down beside me. “Are you okay? Where were you? We were so worried.”

“Not worried enough. You were watching Jeopardy. Why weren’t you out looking for me?”

“We were just saying,” said Rose, “That as soon as the final Jeopardy question was over we’d come find you, and then you knocked on the door and crawled on home. Perfect timing.”

“Did you bring me any dinner?” I bleated.

“We did,” said Julie, in a cheerful voice. “A nice omelet.”

An omelet? I’d almost frozen to death and they bring me an omelet. “I smelled meat when I was crawling through the lobby. Where’s my meat? Where’s my pork loin?”

“Oh it was so good,” said Rose. “They didn’t have enough left to make up a plate for you but the cook fried up a nice omelet when we told him you couldn’t make it down to dinner.”

“Where have you been?” asked Julie, in an insistent voice. “And why are you lying on the floor?”

“Where’s my damn omelet? I’m starving. Douglas and Sophie didn’t kill him.” I eased myself over on my back, and bent my knees. “They tried to kill him but they’re so stupid they messed it up, so someone else beat them to it.”

“That’s a shame,” said Rose. “Bad luck all around.”

“How’d you find this out?” asked Julie.

“Detective work,” I said. “Expert detective work. I put my life at risk.”

“Well here’s your dinner,” said Julie, sitting down beside me with a plate. “This will make you feel better.”

I opened my mouth. “Stick some in. I don’t have the strength to lift a fork.”

Julie forked off a piece of omelet and placed it in my open mouth. “Isn’t that good?” she asked.

“It’s all right,” I grumbled. “Not what I’d pick for my last meal as a free woman. I was dreaming about that pork. How was it?”

“Hmm. So tender, and with the best gravy,” said Rose. “And tiny, crispy roast potatoes. I don’t know how they got them so crispy on the outside and so soft inside.”

Julie fed me another bite. “What else did you bring me?” I asked. “What’s for dessert?”

“Jello,” said Julie, in a soft voice.

“Jello? I could be incarcerated tomorrow and you bring me hospital food!”

“The chef thought you were sick and that’s why you couldn’t come to the dining room. He wanted to send food that was easy to digest. We were hardly going to tell him the truth.”

Blah blah blah. Whatever. I turned my head to the side and eyed a tiny mushroom growing out of the carpet.

“Are you okay to eat on your own yet?” asked Julie.

“No.”

I opened my mouth wide so Julie could shovel in some more of the cold omelet.

“Enough of this,” said Julie. “Feed yourself.”

“Dessert!” I croaked.

Julie glared down at me.

“I’m in pain. Possibly permanently maimed.”

Grumbling, Julie reached over to the table and grabbed the bowl of bright red Jello. As she fed me, I stared blankly at the greenish water stain decorating the ceiling.

“We have to call the police,” I said. “We have to report Douglas and Sophie. I’d pay to see them handcuffed and marched out of here. Maybe they’ll hogtie them.

“Good plan,” said Rose. “And the police can swing by and pick you up at the same time.”

“They might as well,” I said, slurping down the last bite of Jello. “My work is done. Nobody much liked Mr. Potter, except for Annette, but nobody disliked him enough to bother killing him. Well, Douglas and Sophie wanted him dead but they were incompetent. This is an unsolvable crime.”

“Just because we can’t solve it doesn’t mean it’s unsolvable,” said Julie.

“Can you run me a bath?” I asked her. “Maybe a good long soak will help my back and then I’m going to call Walter and turn myself in.”

“Oh Val,” said Julie.

“You’re right — I’ll wait until tomorrow,” I said with a sniff. “We should appreciate these last moments we have together. The next time you see me I’ll be in shackles. Look after Evan. Try to talk him out of dentistry and don’t let him marry Mikel.”

“What’s wrong with marrying that Mikel?” asked Rose. “Better than him mooning around Bambi. At least Mikel would let him have a cheeseburger now and then.”

I rolled back over on my side in preparation for the ordeal of standing up. My back hadn’t been the same since that night on the loveseat, and this latest torment seemed to have pushed me over the edge.

The loveseat. There was something about Heather and the loveseat. I couldn’t focus, I was in too much pain.

I forced myself to my feet and slightly hunched over staggered over to a faded green wing chair. “How’s the bath coming?” I called to Julie.

“Don’t be hogging the bathroom,” Rose said. “I might need it once that dinner gets moving.”

“What do you mean mooning over Bambi?” I asked Rose, her words finally twigging through my pain-fogged brain.

“Oh last summer, you know.”

“No I don’t know.”

“Last summer when he was living with you he was mooning around her like a bear after a honey pot. I told you he likes the old ones. It was a sad sight to see, let me tell you.”

“If Evan was mooning over Heather I certainly would have noticed. And how come this is the first time you mentioned it?”

“I’m not a gossip,” said Rose, who had commenced poking around in her mouth with a toothpick.

Not a gossip. That’s rich.

“That’s ridiculous.” Evan and Heather. She’s practically old enough to be his mother.

“I know mooning when I see it,” said Rose. “God knows I’ve had enough men chasing after me to know the signs. Would you look at these toothpicks they had in the dining room? Mint. Very classy.”

“I’m taking a bath,” I said. “A nice hot bath. Do they have baths in prison?”

“Of course they do,” said Julie in a reassuring voice.

“I don’t think so,” said Rose. “I think they just spray you down with disinfectant every now and then.” She had a thoughtful look on her face as she picked at one of her back molars. “For the lice,” she added helpfully.

I stepped into the bath which Julie had kindly scented with the lodge’s vanilla bubble bath. She’d even lit a candle and dimmed the lights. Such a good friend. I would miss her so much. I wondered if I would make any new friends in prison, someone I could have a good laugh with, share the good times and the bad, gossip about the Warden and gripe about the food. I was welling up again. It was so hard to be strong. I wiggled around, trying to find a comfortable position for my back. No luck. What had I been missing out there? Evan and Heather. I couldn’t think about that. Impossible. Heather was practically as old as me and Evan was …

My back. What was it about Heather and the loveseat? What had she said that was nagging at me? I tried to picture her that morning in the hall. Perfectly blown out hair, trim figure, beautiful skin. Skin. Don’t go to bed without washing your face. Yeah yeah. Good rule. I told her I passed out on the loveseat. She had looked appalled. What had she said? “Who slept over?” Why did she think someone slept over? I mulled this over for a while. Was she wondering if Evan was there? Hoping that he’d moved back in.

“The phone,” I yelled. “Get me a phone.”

Evan picked up on the first ring.

“Hi,” I said. “I’ll make this fast in case they’re tracing your phone calls.”

“Are you okay Mom? Where are you?” asked Evan, in a voice that sounded so panicked it tugged at my heart.

“Fine. Just fine. I’m having a nice hot bath. Things couldn’t be better.” I hated for him to worry. “Evan, you need to tell me the truth. Was there ever anything going on between you and Heather?”

“Heather?”

“My neighbor Heather. The middle-aged woman who lives next door to me.”

“She’s not middle aged.”

“She’s forty-one. That’s the middle.”

“Where are you Mom?”

“I’m out of town following up on a few things, tying up some loose ends. One of the loose ends is a rumor that you may have been romantically involved with Heather. You care to comment on that?”

“We were — friendly,” said Evan. “Mom, you need to turn yourself in. Now. Please. I’m begging you. Everything is really heating up.”

“How friendly?”

“Very.”

“Evan! How could you? She’s almost as old as me.”

“Well she doesn’t seem it — I mean, you know, because she’s not a mother she doesn’t seem matronly. Not matronly, maternal.”

I was in shock. Heather, my friend, was a pervert. The bath water felt lukewarm. And there was a very annoying drip. I scrunched down a little and stuck my big toe in the faucet. Okay. No drip. Now I needed a towel.

“Towel please,” I called. Why not act like a spoiled brat?

“Mom, are you still there?”

“I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow,” I said. “But just so you know, I am very disappointed in this whole Heather thing.” Disappointed and disgusted. “When did it end?”

“Here,” said Julie, putting a towel on the side of the bathtub. “Who are you talking to?”

“Evan.”

“Give him my love.”

“Julie sends her love.”

“I knew Julie was involved,” said Evan.

“Of course she’s involved. I can trust her. She’s not running around having sex with middle- aged women. It is over right? Tell me it’s over.”

“Evan had a fling, an affair with Heather,” I said to Julie.

“Of course it’s over,” said Evan. “I’m with Mikel. I love Mikel. The thing with Heather was just a … blip.”

“Well that’s a hell of a blip, but okay. Look — I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry about me. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything is not fine Mom.”

He wasn’t kidding. I couldn’t get my toe out of the faucet.

“I’m turning myself in tomorrow. Don’t worry. This is all going to work out. Love you. And hello to Mikel.” What the hell, compared to Heather, Mikel was a prize, a mother’s dream. Why did Evan have such terrible taste in girlfriends? Was it something I’d done?