EMBELLISHED TO DEATH (24 page)

  

Bob and I stepped off the elevator. The smell of smoke tickled my nose.

A door opened and a woman stuck her head out. She pointed a finger toward us. “This area is no smoking.”

“We're not.” I held my hands out, showing I wasn't holding anything.

“Someone is. I'm notifying the front desk.” She slammed the door closed.

“Or burning something,” I said.

Bob and I tore off for Marsha's room. The closer we got, the more intense the smell. Marsha was gearing up to run.

Bob stood off to the side and motioned for me to knock.

I wasn't sure how skilled Bob was on breaking down doors and knew mine was non-existent. I rapped. “It's Faith. Something's burning on this floor. I wanted to check on you.”

Bob glared at me.

I rolled my eyes. It was obvious there was smoke in the air and white plumes were coming from under Marsha's door. “If you don't open up, I'm going to call security. I'm worried.”

“I'm fine,” Marsha's muffled voice came through the door.

“Are you smoking? Quick, open up and I'll help you get the evidence out of the room.”

Marsha flung the door open. “What did you—”

Bob and I pushed our way inside. Water was running in the bathroom.

“No!” Marsha raced for the bathroom. Her hand reached for the flusher. Bits of singed paper floated in toilet.

I grabbed her around the waist and pressed her into the only spot of vacant wall in the room, right between the sink and the commode. “It's over. We know who you are. Well, who you aren't.”

“I am Marsha.” She tried doing a pushup against the wall.

“No, you're not.” I leaned my entire weight onto her.

“Yes, I am.”

Maybe she was Marsha…or Marcia…but not the Marsha Smith who was Lydia Clement's business partner. “You are not
the
Marsha Smith who works with Lydia.”

“Yes, I am.”

Bob turned off the bathtub faucet. “The police got a hold of someone who has positively identified the Marsha Smith in the morgue as the one involved with Cropportunity.”

Marsha wiggled and squirmed. “Lydia will tell them that I am her partner Marsha Smith.”

I put more pressure on her back.

“Well, her mother says otherwise and has enough documents and pictures to back up her claim. What do have?” Bob asked.

“Oh.” The sound coming from Marsha sounded like a surrender. Marsha stopped struggling and flattened herself against the wall. “I was just borrowing her job for the weekend.”

“And her name.”

“No, I am Marsha Smith.” She spelled her name. “I was changing it to Marcia Smyth because of my ex-husband. Like I told you. Just not the one who owns this business with Lydia Clement. And for the record, I didn't kill her.”

“Like we can believe that.” I wondered how long I'd have to keep her against the wall, and how long she'd be compliant. I didn't trust her I-give-up attitude.

“Then who?” Bob asked.

“I'm not talking.” Marsha plastered her face to the wall.

Bob drew out some long pieces of paper and draped them over the edge of the tub. A paper shredder was located on the other side of the toilet near the shared wall with the neighboring hotel room.

“You don't have to tell us anything,” I said. “We'll be able to figure it out.”

“No, you won't.”

I decided to test one of my theories. “Well, my guess is Lydia. She had to have known you weren't her partner Marsha Smith.”

Before I knew it, Marsha tossed me off her. I let out a screech as my derrière smacked the bathroom floor, and I barely avoided knocking my elbow onto the toilet. I reached for her foot as she ran for the door. The bruise to my rear was worth it. I got my answer. Lydia knew.

Bob caught her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.

She wiggled and squirmed, lashing out with her hands and feet. The most surprising thing was Marsha remained silent. She didn't scream. She wanted to escape but had no intention of asking for help.

If she screamed, it was over for Lydia. Marsha didn't threaten Lydia to put on this charade. Lydia did it of her own free-will.

But why?

I grabbed Marsha's feet before she kicked Bob in a very painful place. “Lydia killed her. She knew you were pretending to be Marsha Smith, co-owner of Cropportunity.”

Marsha Smith, the identity thief in our custody, pressed her lips together.

“Did she also shoot Morgan to keep your secret?” Bob asked.

Tears flashed in Marsha's eyes.

None of this made sense. Why would Lydia risk her freedom and life for a pretend business partner? She wouldn't. But, she'd risk it for someone more important to her. The image on the membership card flashed in my eye. I had wondered if the woman in the picture was the Marsha or Lydia as the facial structure was similar. Lydia knew about Marsha's drinking problem. She had been concerned and angry about it.

An image flicked in my mind…Lydia at the jewelry consultant table looking at the necklaces. Something for her sister. “How long have you and Lydia known each other?”

The fight went out of Marsha. She went limp. Her arms and legs hung straight down, even her neck drooped forward.

“Sisters?” I asked. I couldn't think of another person, besides a child, a woman would be willing to kill someone for.

“You don't have to say anything to us,” Bob said. “The police will be here soon.”

Marsha refused to look at me. “Lydia told me it was time to go. I figured the manager wasn't accepting any more excuses about the delay of payment so we had to leave now. I didn't want any documents on me or left in the room that the police could use to tie us to Marsha Smith.”

“Like taking off before the retreat ended wouldn't have been suspicious,” I said.

“I had to do whatever I could. I never thought this would happen,” Marsha said.

Bob lifted her and placed her on the edge of the bed. He kept a firm hand on her shoulder.

“I never should've told Lydia about the threats. She gave me the retreat's money to pay off the last person who I borrowed an identity from,” Marsha said.

“Stole,” Bob corrected.

“I thought the reason Lydia wanted to leave was because the manager refused to accept any more excuses about the money.” Marsha sniffed. “I guess there were other reasons.”

Bob twisted so his left side faced me. “Faith, get my phone. Text Ted to come up here ASAP.”

“I can use mine.” I removed it from my pocket.

“He'll question you. He won't me,” Bob said.

He made a good point. I reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. I sent a quick message. Lydia wasn't in the parking lot when the real Marsha Smith got run over and also wasn't in the crop room for a while. “Lydia killed her real partner.”

Marsha nodded.

“And Morgan,” I said.

Again, Marsha nodded. “I knew a PI was after me. When I told Lydia, she said she'd take care of it. I didn't think she meant killing someone.”

“The police will keep looking for you and her,” Bob said. “Murder is something they won't give up on like some of your identity crimes.”

Small sobs erupted from Marsha. “I started new lives to get away from him. But I missed my sister. She missed me. We had no one but each other. I became me again for her. She said everything would work out. The police would have a better suspect than her. She said this was all your fault. You're the one who called Marsha.”

I knew Lydia's victim in the plan—me. “Where did Lydia go?”

“To your room.”

Steve was there! Lydia had a gun.

I tore out of the room.

“Faith—” Bob yelled out.

A curse followed my name. I couldn't wait for Ted to get there. I couldn't let Lydia hurt Steve. I had to make sure he was okay.

My phone vibrated. I ignored it, not wanting to hear about the risky decision I was making. I knew it wasn't smart but I had to help Steve. The phone hummed again, the movement an insistent pulse in my hand.

I ran up a flight of stairs. My ragged breathing echoed down the halls. The frantic pace coming more from my growing fear than the run. I hoped the last words I spoke to Steve weren't my harsh and angry ones. Tears burned my eyes. The door was opened a crack.

Kneeling down, I pressed as close to the door as I could and listened. I fought every urge to slam the door open. I wanted to save Steve if he was in danger, not get him hurt or killed. No sound.

With one finger, I nudged the door open. No one was in there. I stood and walked in, looking for any clue to tell me if Steve left on his own will, or because of someone else.

I saw his key and wallet on the nightstand. The bathroom door was open. He didn't leave on his own.

My phone buzzed again. I looked at it. Text from Steve.

Who are you meeting at the pool?

I prayed Lydia's plan required Steve and I being in the same room alive before she killed us. I had no doubt in my mind she didn't plan for either of us to get out of there alive.

TWENTY-TWO

  

Violet paced up and down the hallway near the pool. She had a gun in her left hand. When she turned around, she spotted me. Her eyes widened for a brief moment. Violet jogged over to me and made a cutting motion through the air and gestured for me to leave.

I shook my head.

Now, she mouthed.

No. I formed the word with my mouth and eyes.

She tried to hustle me back down the hallway. “Let me handle this.”

“She wants me.”

“And that's why you can't go in there.”

“You think she won't spot that gun and shoot you and Steve, or maybe Steve first then you.”

Violet looked back over her shoulder. “I can't let you go in there.”

“I'm not asking your permission. Besides, won't your employer's family give you a bonus if I get killed?” I went to walk around her.

Violet cringed and sidestepped, blocking my path. “They're good people who are hurting. Some truths are hard to face.”

“It's been seven years.”

“It's hard to believe you raised a murderer.”

“It's not easy being labeled one when you never killed anyone.” I wielded a mop someone left in the hallway. “I'm going in there even if it means I have to knock you out.”

Violet laughed. “I don't think you're the type.”

“I will be to save Steve's life. So get out of the way—”

Violet moved out of the way. “I'm going with you.”

“It'll set her off.”

“You distract her, and I'll come in after. You'll need back up. I was hired to throw a wrench in any plans this weekend.”

“What did they think I was going to do?” It didn't matter what Steve's family thought right now. All that mattered was I did everything in my power to get him out of danger. “You hold the door open. Once I'm inside, I'll distract her so you can get inside.”

A “Closed for Disinfecting” sign was taped to the door. Nice way to keep people out, make them think a child...or an adult...used the pool as a restroom. I nodded.

Violet tugged the door open.

I shuffled inside, waiting until my eyes adjusted to the near dark before I ventured further in. The smell of chlorine was almost choking. The resort had coated the windows with a dark film. It made it hard for people to peer at anyone using the indoor pool and hot tub, and also from letting the sun inside. Not the most brilliant choice unless lack of privacy was the most pressing issue. No one would be able to see anything but indistinct forms.

Good place to kill someone and be able to point finger at another person. That's what Lydia needed, a person to take the blame for killing Morgan and also Steve. Or me. I wasn't quite sure how she planned on working all this out, but I was certain one of us would be a murder victim and the other one the shooter who took their own life. I wasn't sure how she'd work in her partner's death, but I'm sure the killer would think one up.

“Come on in a little farther,” Lydia said, her voice coming from a shadowy spot in the back.

“Rather wait. I don't want to take a swim in the pool.” I scanned the room, trying to find Lydia and Steve. “My eyes don't adjust to light changes very well.”

“You shouldn't take a swim yet,” Lydia said. “I need you to get undressed first.”

“What?” I inched toward the forms I made out through the soft orange glow of the small safety lights on the wall.

“Get undressed. I need you in the pool.”

“I'm not wearing a bathing suit,” I said.

“Faith, just do as she says,” Steve's voice emerged from the same shadow area of Lydia's.

“Why would I be in the pool in my underwear?” I asked.

Lydia and Steve stepped out from the dark corner. She pressed a gun into the base of Steve's neck. “You don't have much of a choice as I see it. Strip and get into the pool.”

My mind raced. I needed a way to get us out of this, or prolong the moment. Give Violet enough time to sneak into the pool area or for Bob and Ted to get down here. They'd be able to come up with a plan and we'd have extra fire power.

“Okay. I'm going to sit on the bench near the diving board.” I needed more time to figure out a plan.

“Where you're at is fine.” Lydia pressed a hand to Steve's shoulder. “Kneel down.”

He complied.

Lydia moved the aim of the gun to the back of his head.

Tears burned my eyes. “Please, don't hurt him.”

“Then do what I said. Take off your clothes.”

I leaned down.

“Why won't you listen?” Fury shook Lydia's voice.

“I am. I'm just taking off my shoes first.” My voice shook. “That's what most people do. Shoes at the bottom of the pile.”

“Hurry.”

Remain calm. I was useless if I panicked. I could handle this. I'd been in bad situations before. “I'm trying. You pushing that gun into Steve's skull is freaking me out.”

“If you listen, I'll stop,” Lydia said.

“And if you'd move it back a few inches, I'd hurry.” I untied my sneakers and slipped them off. Still squatting down, I unzipped my yoga jacket.

“Wait. First, I want your phone,” Lydia said. “Put it on the ground and shove it toward me. Don't kick it into the water.”

“Okay.” It was a strange request. I placed my phone on the ground and sent it across the cement to Lydia. It wouldn't do me any good with Lydia, and even less so if it got water-logged. At least if we overpowered Violet, we could use my phone to call for help.

“Get it, Steve.” Lydia prodded him with the gun.

Steve picked up the phone.

“Now, turn on the video recording option.”

“I don't think so.”

“Now!” Lydia slammed the butt of the gun into Steve's shoulder.

Steve's face twisted in pain. “No.”

This time, Lydia struck Steve in the back of the head. He pitched forward.

“No!” I lurched forward.

“Stay there or I'll shoot him now.” Lydia aimed at his head.

Stumbling back to my space, questions swirled in my mind. Where was Violet? Could I knock Lydia down before she shot Steve?

Steve groaned and tried to push himself up.

Lydia placed her right foot into the small of Steve's back. “Either you can follow instructions or I'll just kill her right now. Record her as she takes off her clothes and send the video to Detective Roget.”

Steve had figured out Lydia's plan before I did. She wanted this to look like Ted and I had a little rendezvous and Steve stumbled upon it. Lydia must've been the person eavesdropping in the stairwell. We gave her a perfect suspect and motive to use.

“No one will buy it,” I said.

“Take it off.” Lydia waved the aim of the gun up and down my body. “I don't want your opinion.”

“No one will believe Steve killed me. They know him.”

“They also saw his little tirade earlier and I'm sure your town talks about how chummy you and the detective are. Here your man went and killed Morgan, who was trying to make your life miserable, and how does he get repaid for that grand romantic gesture? He finds you in the pool waiting for your detective.”

Grand romantic gesture? Murder? “He's not my detective.”

“Get on with it, Faith. Start recording, Steve.”

He remained on the ground.

“Please, Steve, do what she wants. It's okay.” I prayed he'd listen. We might not get out of this alive, but she wouldn't get away with it. If Steve's prints were on my phone then her whole jealous lover scenario wouldn't work.

He slowly got to his knees and started filming.

I shrugged off my jacket and laid it on top of my shoes. What was taking everyone so long? I thought I positioned myself in a good place where I was away from the door so they could get in and Lydia couldn't spot them.

“I'm not getting anything,” Steve said. “It's too dark in here.”

“It must have a light. Use it.” With her free hand, Lydia wiggled a finger at me. “Come closer.”

I shuffled forward a few feet, edging toward the pool. I needed Lydia's attention away from the door. I tugged my t-shirt over my head. Taking in a breath to settle my nerves, I hooked my fingers into the waist band of my yoga pants.

Steve's face twisted in pain.

The door opened.

Marsha stepped into the room. I tried not to stare as it looked like there were fingers growing out of Marsha's back. Violet. She was hiding behind her.

Where were Bob and Ted?

Lydia gaped at her sister.

“Don't do this, Lydia.” Marsha shut the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lydia shrieked. “I could've killed you.”

“I can't let you kill them.” Marsha swiped her face with her palms. “I know what you did and why. I even forgive you for putting the cold medicine into my pop.”

Lydia flushed crimson. “I had no choice. I had to protect you. I had to protect myself. My business.”

Marsha held her arms in an “I surrender” position and shuffled forward. “I know that. The only way you'd know I wouldn't be tempted to create a new me was to make sure I was in my room asleep. You knew the police were circling. If they found me, so would my ex. I get that. I'm sorry for involving you in my problems. I never should've asked for the money or pretend to be your partner while she was out of town. This is all my fault. Like always.”

“I promised I'd look out for you,” Lydia said.

I followed Marsha's lead, staying a small distance behind her as I moved forward. I watched as Steve eased his way toward the pool.

Marsha cautiously made her way to her sister. “Mom and Dad had no right to make you promise that. If they couldn't be bothered to take care of me, they shouldn't have placed it on you.”

“I wanted to.”

“I've made myself too much of burden for you to bear. That's not a flaw in you.” Marsha held her hand out. “That's a flaw in me. Please give me the gun.”

“You never listen until it's too late.”

“Then don't be like me. It's not too late.”

“It is too late. And they know it.” Lydia took aim at Steve.

“Dive!” I screamed and flung myself at Steve, hoping to knock him into the pool. With his back facing Lydia, by the time he heard the gunshot it would be too late.

I collided into Steve. A sharp pain stung my arm as we hit the water and went under. I struck the side of the pool. I hoped I didn't knock Steve into the wall. A muffled pop reached my ears. Followed by another one. Holding my breath, I made my way to the bottom of the pool. The dim light and murkiness of the water made it hard to see. Where was Steve? I held my breath and felt along the bottom of the pool.

A hand snagged my arm. I pivoted in the water. Steve. He swam, pulling me toward the other side of the pool.

With my lungs burning, and arm aching, I followed him. We both broke the surface. Pink tinged the water around us. Steve looked pale. I scanned the front of his body. I couldn't see where he got hit. Maybe his shoulder or back.

“Stop!” Marsha gripped Lydia's wrist and held it up.

“Last warning, Lydia,” Violet said. “Put it down or I'll shoot.”

Lydia yanked the gun away and fired at us.

Clutching hands, Steve and I dove down.

The round whizzed past us.

I stayed under water, moving with Steve from one part of the pool to the other until my lungs ached. We resurfaced. I struggled to keep myself on the surface as pain and heat attacked my arm. I clung to Steve. I had to help keep him up. His hold tightened around me.

The barrel aimed back at us.

“Once more, sweetheart,” Steve said.

Together, we drew in a breath and sank toward the bottom. Multiple pops bounced off the cement walls. Something large hit the water near us.

The water turned orange as light filled the room.

Steve wrapped his arms around me, braced his feet on the bottom of the pool and pushed up, propelling us to air.

For some reason, my left arm wouldn't work and my brain felt fuzzy.

“Ted, get her!” Steve struggled to swim us toward the pool steps.

Ted jumped into the shallow end and charged forward. Violet slid into the pool and swam over to us.

“I got her, Steve.” Ted cradled me and lifted me out of the water. “You're going to be okay.”

“Steve's hurt.” I reached back for him. “Help him.”

Detective Bell holstered his gun and handcuffed an unresisting Marsha. She sat with her legs dangling into the pool and stared at the pink water.

“I got him, Faith.” Violet tucked herself under Steve's arm and helped him walk up the steps. “What's a little hit to the head for this guy? He'll be just fine.”

“She shot him,” I tried looking for Lydia but moving caused an intense pain to arc down my arm. It made me dizzy. “I think I broke my arm. Stupid cement.”

Ted exchanged a concerned glance with Steve. “She doesn't know.”

“Put her on the lounge chair.” Garrison patted the seat that had a thick towel covering up the vinyl strips. “Get me a clean cloth.”

“An ambulance is on the way,” Bell said.

Garrison pressed something against my arm. I drew in a sharp breath and looked at my arm. Red stained the cloth.

“She shot me.” So that was why my arm hurt.

Steve knelt beside and held my hand. Tears glittered in his eyes.

For some reason, knowing I'd been shot intensified the pain. I reminded myself to breathe out as the pain made me want me to hold my breath.

He kissed my hand. “You'll be okay. You'll be fine.”

I shivered.

Bob draped a towel over me. “That should keep you warm.”

I blinked a few times. I saw the reddish color in the water. My gaze locked on a form in the pool. Lydia.

Marsha rocked back and forth, attention riveted on Lydia floating face down in the pool. “I killed her. I killed my sister.”