Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) (6 page)

Chapter Ten

When dinner came and went, and still there was no sign of Emmy, I began to get really worried. I didn’t think anything had happened to her; rather, I was beginning to suspect that she was avoiding people in general. Why, I couldn’t say, but it still didn’t look good for the Miramar’s most public of employees.

Ellie and I lingered over our well-filled plates, reminiscing and laughing so hard that others began to stare. A few of the staff still in the Palmetto Room stifled grins of their own whenever they passed our table; the Miramar, after all, had a reputation to uphold.

Our family is a great one for good times and fun for all. Ellie and I have always been the resident gigglers; whenever we two get started, there’s no stopping us, and everything is grounds for merriment. Finally, though, sated with food and laughter, we staggered to our feet and headed out into a perfect balmy evening.

We began to stroll toward the beach, the sound of the waves and the call of the seagulls a beacon, urging a visit to the water’s edge. I have to admit that this was the biggest draw for me when I applied for the job; the idea of living practically beachside intrigued this mountain girl to no end.

We paused by an outcrop of rocks, some of them perfect for sitting and staring at the ocean. I sat on the largest, Ellie on the one just below. We rested silently for a few minutes, taking in the tranquility of our surroundings. The beach was deserted, except for a few seagulls tussling over something buried in the sand, so we had it to ourselves.

‘Ellie,’ I said abruptly, leaning forward. ‘I never asked you about your card reading this morning, the one you did for Maria. You said something about knowing who had done it. What was
that
all about?’

Ellie kept her face forward, the fading light of sunset defining the edges of her silhouette. ‘I saw something that bothered me, AJ,’ she answered quietly.

‘I did, too: I saw my cousin practically turning the Miramar’s kitchen into a carnival sideshow.’ I gave her a friendly poke in the back, but she didn’t take the bait. Ellie must’ve been really rattled, even more than I’d thought.

‘I’m afraid it’s not over yet,’ she said, her voice almost inaudible as she stared out over the waves. ‘Not by a long shot.’

I stayed silent. What could I say to that? Besides, I’d begun to get the heebie-jeebies as well, especially since Emmy seemed to have gone AWOL from the resort.

Eventually we stood to leave, darkness and dampness encouraging us to scoot back to the Miramar. Besides, I needed to do the last check of the night at the desk, making sure that all guests were happy, no one wanting for anything.

As we began to pick our way across the rocks and head toward the path, a loud squawking arose behind us. Ellie and I turned to look, but it was just dark enough to keep us from getting a clear view. I looked at her and shrugged.

‘Do we need to check it out? It’s probably just seagulls fighting over someone’s leftovers.’ I didn’t have any real wish to walk across the wet sand, but Ellie turned and started moving in the direction of the avian fracas.

The closer we got to the large seabirds, the more we could see what it was they were fussing over. Something large and dark lay near the water’s edge, half in the water and moving gently in the current. Apparently someone had left behind one of the Miramar’s large beach blankets; available at the concierge’s desk, these could get quite heavy when wet. I grimaced. I had no desire to cart it all the way back to the resort, dripping and dragging against my legs. It would just have to stay there until I could get someone a little stronger than me to retrieve it.

Ellie began walking more quickly, her presence scattering the birds at the periphery of the feathered mob. They settled back on the sand a few feet away, scolding her as she advanced on the others. With a mad flapping of wings and coarse cries, the remainder of the gulls took flight, wheeling above us and screeching their displeasure. I didn’t blame them: I hate it when someone interferes in my life, too.

I should have known at once that something was amiss by Ellie’s stance. She was completely still, head down and focused on the blanket. As I watched, she bent her knees, leaning in closer for a better look. It’s a good thing I’d moved up behind her – I caught her as she slumped sideways onto the sand, choking and crying at the same time.

We’d found Emmy.

I think I was the one who alerted the resort’s security, stumbling into the main lobby and scaring the few guests who’d congregated in front of the small fire burning in the stone fireplace. Someone guided me to a chair and got me a glass of water, murmuring soothing words as they patted my shoulders and waited for help to arrive. I had no idea where Ellie was; for all I knew, she was still on the beach, keeping a macabre vigil over Emmy’s battered body.

I really shouldn’t have been in the least surprised to see the familiar figures of Detectives Baird and Fischer as they strode up the resort’s front walkway and into the lobby. I was beginning to feel like the resort albatross, courting disaster and bringing bad luck wherever I went. Logically, I knew none of this was my fault, but really! What was a girl to think with this many bodies piling up in such a short amount of time?

I’d sufficiently recovered enough by this time to look around for Ellie, craning my neck to see if she had made it back to the resort. I finally spotted her sitting near the entrance to the main corridor, being comforted by Maria and another gal from the kitchen staff. Bad news sure grew wings at the Miramar, I was discovering.

‘So, Ms Burnette,’ a familiar voice intoned. I looked up to see Detective Fischer bearing down on me, notebook in one hand and pen in the other. I felt a stab of disappointment, expecting Detective Baird to be the one who spoke with me. Oh, well: I didn’t own the man. I sure wanted to, though.

I met the detective’s eyes, a flat blue compared to the dazzling pair of his partner. I was tired, and I wanted to get the questioning over and done with. I took a calming breath in, willing myself to focus.

‘Yes, Detective?’ I answered. I wasn’t going to offer anything this time around; he’d have to pull it out of me piecemeal.

‘I just need a few basics,’ he began. I managed to keep myself from rolling my eyes; wasn’t that what they all said, right before a big interrogation?

‘When did you last see Esmeralda Ruiz?’ He had to check his notes for the name, which surprised me. I figured that by now, he and Detective Baird knew everyone and everything connected to the ill-fated Miramar.

‘I saw her this morning, about 6-ish, in the kitchen,’ I offered, watching him scribble the information into his notebook.

He looked up at me. ‘OK. Did you see her last night?’

‘Well, yes, right before you let us go when …’ My voice trailed off. I really didn’t want to talk to him about Miguel. I could still see his body as it jerked and sparked on the bandstand, and it was not a good memory at all.

He nodded. I guess that jived with his notes.

‘Right, that’s it for now, Ms Burnette. Don’t go anywhere; we may need to ask you a few more questions, OK?’ With that, he strode off in the direction of his partner, who was still leaning over Ellie and talking to her.

As if I had anywhere
to
go, I thought grimly. I was beginning to rethink this whole job-at-a-resort gig, though. Somehow, it hadn’t turned out like I thought it would.

The few guests who’d remained in the lobby started drifting off to various destinations, huddling together and looking warily around as though they expected to see a mad killer running loose. I shuddered. For all I knew, there
was
a killer somewhere nearby. I just prayed that I stayed out of his – or her – crosshairs.

I waited where I was for a while, contemplating a call for my go-to sugar fix and some strong tea. I didn’t have the energy to get up and walk to the nearest phone, though. Everything that had happened since I’d arrived had worn me out. I felt like one of the limp dishrags drying in the kitchen.

The kitchen! I flashed back to the sight of kitchen staff huddled around Ellie in intense silence, waiting to hear what my cousin would say. I glanced over to where Ellie sat, Maria still hovering over her like a concerned mother hen guarding an injured chick. Making up my mind, I rose to my feet and headed in their direction.

Ellie’s eyes were swollen, her face streaked with tears and sand. She must’ve gotten awfully close to Emmy’s body as it lay in the surf, moving gently in the water. I groaned; my aunt was going to hold this over my head for as long as I lived.

‘Hey, Ellie,’ I said gently, reaching over to wipe some of the grit from her cheeks. ‘It’s OK, I promise.’ I had no idea if it would be OK or not but I had to say something. I glanced up at Maria who stood there with wide eyes. ‘Could you get us some hot tea, Maria? And maybe something to munch on? Get enough for the three of us.’ She nodded and left, giving Ellie a final pat on the shoulder.

With Maria off on her errand, I squatted down next to Ellie, looking up into her face. She looked absolutely done in, worse even than when we’d gotten stuck in the middle of a stream that had risen quicker than we’d expected. We’d been about eight years old, stranded on a sandbar and bellowing for our mamas. When at last our fathers found us, huddled together, shivering and crying, we’d both been on the verge of hysterics.

Ellie seemed to have left me, moving somewhere near the polar opposite of her earlier hysteria, sitting in stunned silence and not speaking. I was worried, wondering if I should call for help. It’s safe to say that I was startled when she finally spoke, her voice low and gravelly from weeping.

‘I knew something would happen and it has. I could have prevented this, AJ.’ With that, she began to weep again, large tears slipping from her eyes and sliding down her face. I reached up and held her in my arms, rocking her slightly back and forth, trying to give her comfort. I felt my own eyes begin to sting. Keeping Ellie with me no longer seemed like such a great idea.

As we sat drinking the tea that Maria brought, I turned the events of the day over and over in my head. I knew there had to be a connection between the three deaths, but what it was, for the life of me, I couldn’t see. I prayed with all my heart that this would end soon; I didn’t want to see one more body as long as I lived.

Chapter Eleven

To my great disappointment, Detective Baird never came back. I suppose he went down to the beach, looking for clues and all that other jazz that detectives do whenever a suspicious death occurs. Emmy’s death, in my book, was certainly suspicious. What I couldn’t figure out was why someone would be out to get Emmy, would be so angry that they’d feel the need to get rid of her. It certainly was strange.  But the Miramar was fast becoming a magnet for strange occurrences.

I put Ellie to sleep in my bed, opting to take the couch and be near the phone in case something else happened during the night. I could hear her tossing and muttering occasionally, but she stayed asleep for the most part and awakened me around seven the following morning.

I ordered breakfast for us, not wanting to face the rest of the staff just then. It had occurred to me some time during the night that I was now ‘acting’ concierge. I’d need to double-check with the resort manager – I’d met him briefly on that very first day – and see what he wanted me to do. In the meantime, Ellie and I needed nourishment, and I needed to figure out what I would wear; I hadn’t brought too many formal work clothes with me to San Blanco, having been assured by Emmy that the Miramar leaned toward casual. I’d seen how Emmy dressed, though, and I felt the need to emulate her. Maybe that would help me keep my newly crowned concierge head above water.

Someone new brought our breakfast tray, a young girl who looked about ten. She was probably at least nineteen or so, but her slender build and shy stance gave her that childlike appearance. As quickly as she could, she handed me the tray and scooted down the corridor, heading, I guess, back to the kitchen. I briefly wondered where Maria was, then turned my attention to eating: per usual, I was starving or doing a good imitation of it.

The view from my bedroom window showed an early morning that was bright with just a touch of wispy clouds floating near the horizon, looking like flocks of seagulls floating on the waves. Regrettably, the clouds that reminded me of birds also brought back the memory of Emmy’s body as it lay on the shore, the center of an avian squabble.

I was going to have to wash that visual from my mind if I was going to function.

I drew in a deep breath, leaning my forehead against the cool glass for a moment, corralling my thoughts, organizing the day. A shower was the first step, though, so I shut the blinds and turned to get ready for whatever adventure – hopefully of the happier variety – awaited me.

Ellie was still seated on the couch, sipping hot tea and staring off into space. I hoped she wasn’t revisiting last night’s calamity; even more, I hoped that she wasn’t still blaming herself. Cards or not, she couldn’t have possibly foreseen the tragedy of Emmy’s death. On second thoughts, it might have been better if she had: we might not have had to find Emmy the way we did.

With a promise to join me in the lobby as soon as she’d showered and dressed, Ellie stood to her feet and hugged me. ‘AJ, stay safe out there. This place gives me the creeps, room service or not. I’ll come find you as soon as I can.’ She really did look worried.

I laughed, although it came out sounding a little strangled – which, come to think of it, is not such a good descriptor, considering all the deaths around here. Anyway, it was good to be fussed over, although I would’ve preferred different circumstances. I wasn’t too anxious, though; I highly doubted the Miramar Murderer (as I’d privately dubbed him) would strike in broad daylight.

Stanley West, the resort’s general manager, was waiting at Emmy’s desk. Actually, he was pacing up and down the lobby, stopping every so often to glance out of the window as though expecting something else to happen. He had the appearance of someone whose nerves were on edge, and I couldn’t say that I blamed him one iota. Mine would be, too, if I had to deal with staff, menus, activities,
and
a killer.

‘AJ, there you are! I was just debating whether or not to call your suite. In fact, I wasn’t even sure you’d stick around after all this.’ Stan waved his arms expansively. I guessed that he’d never had to deal with anything more than a miffed guest or a no-show employee before, so this must have been close to pure catastrophe in his book.

This entire situation was probably more of a draw than he knew. I had a hunch that, before long, folks would be clamoring for a room at the Miramar: those who liked an amateur ghost hunt, those who were drawn to the macabre, and those who just enjoyed a good scare. Emmy’s death, as unfortunate and untimely as it was, could serve as a catalyst in reinforcing the Miramar’s reputation as the place to be. That, I was fairly certain, was something she would have been proud of, as weird as it sounded.

‘Hey, Stan,’ I said, aiming for ‘casual happy’ to match my khaki pants and linen shirt. It wouldn’t do to seem rattled; I had a feeling that I would be called upon to play the part of Emmy today. ‘I got here as soon as I could. Just let me know what you need me to do.’ I smiled at him as I headed for Emmy’s desk. Flipping on the computer’s power switch and the little desk lamp, I sat down, folding my hands and trying to project efficiency and control
à la
Esmeralda Ruiz.

Stan ran both hands through his hair, creating little tufts that stood up over his ears. I had to hide a smile; he looked like one of the characters from a children’s puppet show, the kind that look like big fuzzy tennis balls with mouths.

‘I think that if we can just make it through today, we’ll be OK. Detective Bread told me he’d be back later this morning for a few more interviews.’

I smiled, not bothering to camouflage my amusement this time. ‘Do you mean Detective
Baird?’

Stan stopped his pacing and looked at me like I’d sprouted horns. ‘That’s what I just said. Anyway,’ he added, resuming his fidgety movements, ‘We should be fixed for the weekend. Emmy had already lined up a few things that we’ll go on with. Hopefully this will all blow over soon.’