Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) (7 page)

‘Speaking of interviews,’ I said, managing to sound composed, ‘when will you start looking for a new concierge?’

Stan looked at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘I really hadn’t thought that far ahead, AJ. I guess I just assumed that you’d want the job. You know. Move up a notch in the world.’ His smile was magnanimous as though he’d just offered me the
crème de la crème
of jobs.

Oh, sure: who wouldn’t want to work at a resort that could boast a resident killer? And you know what they say about assuming things. I’m not going to write it here, this being a family-friendly narrative. But you get the general idea. And I didn’t want to be anything other than what I’d been hired for. I’d been able to tell from Emmy’s stress levels that ‘concierge’ was just a fancy word that meant ‘it’s all on your back’.

I was saved from what might have been a regrettable retort by the appearance of my cousin. She looked more awake than she had when I’d left her earlier. In fact, she was practically emitting bursts of static electricity, and by the look on her face, she had Big News. The next order of business was to shoo Stan on his merry way and let Ellie spill the beans.

I managed to get rid of the jumpy resort manager by reassuring him that I wasn’t going anywhere and that I would be able to handle two groups of guests arriving later that morning.

‘I’d appreciate it if I had some help, though,’ I said sweetly. My voice was as thick with honey as a beehive, and I hooked my arm through Ellie’s, pulling her in close. ‘My cousin just happened to be visiting the resort. She would be happy to assist me, if you’d OK it.’ I could feel Ellie’s arm stiffen but I held firm, that syrupy smile plastered on my face.

Stan gave Ellie the briefest of glances, nodding as he began walking away. ‘Have her fill out the necessary papers, AJ, and make sure that HR gets them by the end of the day. Now, if that’s all?’

I didn’t have time to answer, even if I had wanted to. Stan was already strolling off to the next task, leaving me and an astounded Ellie to fend for ourselves. Whether we liked it or not, we’d just become a two-headed concierge for the Miramar.

‘Well.’ Ellie plopped down in to the chair I normally occupied, arms crossed and a stunned look on her face. Laser-like glare would probably be more accurate (as in ‘stun gun’); I’d managed to enlist her help at the desk before she’d known what had hit her. Chalk one up for the ol’ AJ, I thought with a grin. I hadn’t lost my touch.

I checked the bookings for the day, noting that the two large tour parties were due to arrive before ten. Glancing at my wristwatch, I saw that we would have time to call out for the morning’s cookies. I decided to have the kitchen put them into a napkin-lined basket instead of on the usual glass plate; Ellie was notoriously butter-fingered and I wasn’t taking a chance.

The stock of brochures and area maps looked good, so I suggested to Ellie that we take a quick jaunt around the Miramar, making sure all was well with our guests. Besides, it didn’t hurt to hobnob with the paying customers, as I had learned at the casino. The ones who felt noticed and loved were usually those who became repeat visitors. I didn’t have Emmy’s solicitous approach down yet, but I did know how to carry on a conversation without making a fool of myself. I figured that Ellie could tag along and feel for auras or whatever it was that she did. The sooner the Miramar Murderer was caught, the better.

Outside, the sky was a clear blue, something my pilot father would call a ‘high sky’, perfect for flying, birdwatching, and sunbathing. Standing in the sunshine and feeling the halcyon breezes blowing, it was difficult to imagine that this had been the scene of three deaths, all of which appeared suspicious. I glanced sideways at Ellie and saw she was staring off toward the beach. Not good, I thought, so I gave her a little poke in the ribcage.

‘Hey, girl. None of that this morning.’ I draped an arm across her shoulders and began walking, guiding her along the path.

Ellie remained quiet. Not a tense quiet, but ‘lost in thought’ type of quiet, contemplative. She’d give when she was ready, so I didn’t push it. Besides, I needed to get the feel of my newly appointed position. I began to concentrate on the scene around me, nodding and smiling at the guests who sat with juice and coffee, enjoying the weather and the newspaper. I could get use to this, I thought. I was just beginning to feel like visiting royalty when I heard someone calling my name, and not in a casual, friendly voice, either. In fact, whoever it was sounded downright upset.

‘Ms Burnette! Ms Burnette!’ I turned to see Fernando and Maria running toward me, she waving something at me and him trying to keep up with the much younger and much quicker girl.

Ellie and I stopped in our tracks, opting to wait for the two to catch up. I knew what some of the guests were peeking surreptitiously around newspapers and from behind sunglasses, so I fixed what I hoped was a look of competence on my face and waited to hear whatever new disaster had just occurred.

Chapter Twelve

‘Ms Burnette!’ Maria was panting a bit as she reached Ellie and me, stopping mere inches before she mowed us down. ‘Please take this.’ She thrust something into my hands then turned to Ellie. ‘Oh, Miss Ellie. There is so much trouble, just like you said to us. I have never seen so much trouble before.’ And with that, she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

I left Ellie and Fernando to comfort Maria. I walked off a few paces, looking down at what Maria had handed to me. It was an envelope, crumpled from handling, and the name on the front was mine. Abrupt shivers marched up and down my spine like a holiday parade, sending my mind into a tailspin: I recognized the handwriting of Esmeralda Ruiz. The late Esmeralda Ruiz.

I turned around in time to see Ellie and Fernando walking back toward the Palmetto Room, Maria being led between them like a little child. I hesitated. Whatever was in the envelope, I wanted Ellie to see it as well, and I was just chicken enough not to open it until I was surrounded with the living. I made up my mind and followed them.

Ellie had commandeered a table near the back of the dining room, nearest the French doors and the sunlight. Fernando was up at the buffet table, getting coffee and a plateful of breakfast items. I watched approvingly as he spooned large amounts of sugar into one of the mugs and then carried it over to Maria. She still looked upset but took the coffee obediently, a good sign. I decided to follow Fernando’s example and get my own mug-o’-sugar with a little coffee in it for color.

I slid into the empty chair next to Ellie. A few of the nosier guests were trying to watch us out of the corner of their eyes but gave up when I purposely leaned toward Maria, all but blocking their view. What is it about folks and their need for the salacious in life? We’ve grown into a society where everything is fodder for a reality show.

We sat quietly, sipping the hot drinks and letting the warmth fill us. Stress makes me shiver, and I could see that Maria was trembling slightly as well, the mug held tightly in two hands so she wouldn’t drop it.

I fished the envelope from my pants pocket where I had shoved it unceremoniously. The others watched me with curiosity, Ellie because she had no idea what I was holding and the other two because they did. Holding my breath, I slipped my index finger under the flap and gently teased it open. I didn’t need a nasty paper cut in addition to everything else.

It was a short letter, addressed to me – no surprise there, since it was my name on the envelope – and written in Emmy’s careful, looping handwriting. I read it once, then again. What she said made no sense to me. Then again, I’d never had a letter from the dead before.

Ellie’s eyebrows had ridden so far up her forehead that I almost couldn’t see them. It was obvious she wanted to know what the letter said, so I handed it to her without comment, waiting for her to read it and make her own sense of it. And if she didn’t get those eyebrows down quickly, they might become permanently attached to her hairline.

‘Well.’ Ellie slowly handed the letter back over, her eyes locked on mine. I took the missive, tucking it back into its envelope as carefully as if it had been a defused bomb. I guess it was, in its own way; the words Emmy had penned were as explosive as dynamite.

I nodded. ‘I know. Crazy, isn’t it?’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and I certainly wasn’t going to let Maria and Fernando know what it said. I did have a question for them, though.

‘Where did you get this, Maria?’ I waggled the letter in her direction. It might have more made sense to me if Emmy had left it at the front desk with directions to deliver it to me, but I had a sneaking suspicion that the front desk was not where Maria had gotten it.

Maria flushed, her eyes shifting from me to the letter and back again. It was if she needed to verify that yes, indeed, I had meant that particular letter.

‘I got it from her room,’ Maria finally whispered, her eyes now on the table. ‘Please do not tell on me, Ms Burnette. I cannot lose my job.’

With that, tears began sliding from her eyes and falling onto the table. Fernando reached over and put a comforting arm around her, giving me a look that said something along the lines of ‘you’d better not tell a soul’. I got the message loud and clear, and nodded briefly at him to show that I had. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the sobbing girl.

Ellie and I looked at each other. We’d need to show this to the police, that was for sure, but first I wanted to do some checking on my own. What Emmy had said flipped this entire thing on its ugly head, and I needed to see for myself if what she’d alleged was true. Call it a death wish, call it the Saddler gene for curiosity, call it whatever you will: I had a burning need to know the truth.

‘Maria,’ I began gently, reaching over to pat her hand. ‘It’s OK. I won’t tell anyone where this came from. Promise.’
Unless I have to
, I added silently, mentally crossing my fingers for good measure.

She looked up at me, her large brown eyes rimmed in red, lashes clumped together with tears. ‘Oh,
gracias
, Ms Burnette. Thank you. I know that I shouldn’t have gone in there, but …’ A fresh wave of sobs began to shake her thin shoulders, and she leaned into Fernando for support.

I looked at Ellie, trying to bombard her with my best ESP attempt. Actually, I’d never tried anything like that before, so any attempt was my best. And by the way Ellie stared back at me, she had no earthly idea what I was trying to transmit to her. Dang. I’d just have to say it out loud.

‘Uh, Ellie, dear cuz. I think we need to check out the concierge desk, make sure that all’s quiet on the Western Front.’ My little shot at humor fell flat on its face. Ellie simply looked at me as though I’d lost the last of my marbles, and Maria kept crying, a little quieter now. Only Fernando seemed to have gotten my drift. He nodded at me.

‘I will take Maria back to the kitchen, Ms Burnette,’ he offered. ‘She will be safe with me.’ Tugging gently on Maria’s arm, Fernando lifted her to her feet and they left the dining room together, Fernando’s arm protectively holding her close.

Unlike Ellie, I certainly don’t lay any claim to reading the future or anything, but I didn’t need a crystal ball to tell me which way the wind was blowing in that scenario. At least someone would be happy. And Maria certainly deserved some happiness in her life.

Ellie and I walked back to the main lobby, taking the scenic route behind the Palmetto and across the large grassy lawn that encircled the resort like a green shawl. All
was
quiet on the Western Front, and I breathed a deep sigh of relief; I was just plain tired of dealing with drama every day.

Of course, that thought set off the built-in guilt alarm that my mother had honed at an early age. This ‘so-called’ drama was the result of three murders, and probably not high on the victims’ lists of ‘Things to Do While at the Miramar.’ If I wasn’t careful, I’d become as cavalier as Stan West.

The concierge desk, tucked back from the main portion of the lobby, provided some privacy and was as good a place as any to go over Emmy’s letter before I had to make the call to Detective Baird (as if
that
would be a chore). I still couldn’t quite get my head around her words, but she must’ve known what she was talking about. What really troubled me was that she could sense danger enough to cause her to write her thoughts down, and with my name on the envelope, this was a recent development. I shivered. Who at the Miramar could hate enough to kill three seemingly unrelated folks?

Emmy’s information could have come from the day’s headlines. Someone – or a group of someones – had been using the Miramar as a meeting place, somewhere to pass on faked identity cards and to collect the money when they sold. My guess was that Emmy had seen something she shouldn’t have and was frightened enough to write it down. She hadn’t actually mentioned any names, but her suspicions did make sense; with San Blanco being as close to the international border as it was, it made a perfect rendezvous for this type of business.

Ellie was silent, a small miracle as far as I was concerned, but I could see that she was mulling over the letter quite seriously. I was tempted to shout ‘Boo!’ as I used to do when we were younger, but that probably would have been a bad idea: Ellie loves to get revenge. Besides, our first gaggle of guests had arrived, and I needed to put on my Professional Concierge face.

Once the hubbub had died down and all had been given maps and directions to the area’s attractions, Ellie and I sat back in our chairs in recovery mode. This was a bigger deal than I had suspected. I suppose it was because Emmy made it appear effortless. But another group was on its way and there were brochures to fold and more copies of area maps to be made. ‘And time,’ I said to Ellie, ‘is a-wastin’.’

Leaving Ellie to guard the fort, I made my way to the back office area that housed hotel information such as room bookings and staff rosters, as well as an industrial-size copy machine and other typical office supplies. I quickly ran copies of the map that we handed out to guests, staring at the wall above without actually seeing anything. My mind was still trying to get a handle on the newest wrinkle at the Miramar, and I knew I needed to put in a call to the police department. That thought made my heartbeat pick up the pace. At least I had that to look forward to, I told myself with a smile. And maybe I’d get to hand Emmy’s letter directly to Detective Baird.

I was deep in a world of my own, picturing Detective Baird cracking the case wide open because of the letter, and me the proud recipient of a commendation – and a kiss from the grateful detective – when the door behind me slowly opened. As I turned around to see who it was, the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. The door slammed shut and I could hear the sound of footsteps pounding down the corridor.

As I groped my way blindly across the office, feeling for the light switch, I had an awful thought: this was not an accident. Someone – maybe even the Miramar Murderer – had known I was in there. Why follow me? Was it to do with Emmy’s letter? Anyway, if the message they’d tried to deliver was to keep my nose out, it had been received, very loud and very clear.

I all but fell into my chair behind the concierge’s desk, the copies I’d just made sliding from my grasp and spilling across the floor. Ellie took one look at me and came around the desk to hug me, her hair a perfumed curtain over my face. I told her what had just happened, speaking through jaws that felt like they’d been wired shut. In a word, I was stunned. Not since Edmond had locked me in a closet, leaving me to scream and cry and pound on the door for five minutes before Aunt Amie had come to my rescue, had I felt like this. My stomach was in knots and the idea of even
touching
a cookie, much less eating one, made me feel like
losing
my cookies, in a manner of speaking.

I leaned into Ellie’s embrace, willing my tense muscles and nerves to relax. Apparently Edmond’s idea of a childhood joke had messed with my psyche a bit more than I’d realized.

‘I think,’ I began, looking up at Ellie, ‘we need to call Detective Baird now. As in RIGHT NOW. I am not going to have something like that happen again, to me or to anyone else. Not to mention that next time it might be
sayonara
for yours truly.’ I shuddered. That was definitely not on my job description.

‘What I want to know is who had the bright idea to do that in the first place?’ Ellie’s question echoed my sentiments exactly. Who would even know that I had an inkling of what might be going on at the Miramar?

I opened the top desk drawer, fishing around until I found the card that Detective Baird had handed me that first night. I’d only kept it because I thought he was a cutie, and not because I intended to use it. That went to show how little
I
could predict the future.

I stopped short, my fingers frozen in mid-search. Predicting the future might just be the way to go with this one, and I just happened to have my own human crystal ball sitting right next to me. It couldn’t hurt, and it might even help. Detective Baird, dimpled smile and all, would just have to wait a bit longer.