Chapter 36
“But Liam died in front of witnesses.” Frances huffed. “There’s no way he was murdered.”
“He could have been poisoned,” Jenn said. She twirled the stem of her wine glass. The brilliant red of her drink swirled in the light.
My entire team sat around the fireplace in the lobby of the McMurphy. Frances and Mr. Devaney each sat in sturdy wing-backed chairs. The thin striped pattern of the new upholstery was carefully researched. The settee where I sat with Jenn was a cabbage-rose pattern.
The fire popped and snapped in the cool of the night. The light from the two standing lamps was a soft yellow through lampshades with pale pink tassels. The chandeliers sparkled above, remaining unlit as I preferred the gentle light in the evening.
“Isn’t poison usually a woman’s way of killing?” Mr. Devaney looked up from the book he read. I think the old man never went anywhere without a book. Between you and me, the only reason he was here now was because Frances was here. They wouldn’t admit it, but I think there was something going on between those two. I’d seen the looks that passed between them when they thought no one was looking.
“Think about it, though,” Jenn pushed. “Everyone believes that cliché. If I were a smart male killer, I’d use poison to off someone. Everyone would be looking for a woman.”
“Who was at the senior center when Papa died?” I asked. “He was playing cards, right?”
“Yes, it was pinochle day. Liam’s team had made the semifinal round.”
“His team?” I sat up.
“Yes, of course, we would play in teams of two. Liam always played with Mabel Showorthy.”
“Why would Mabel kill Liam?” Mr. Devaney said.
“She had no motive.” I curled my jean-clad legs under me. “I’ve known her my whole life. Besides, it wasn’t Mabel who attacked me in the basement and ran off with the wine.”
“It had to be someone in the room,” Jenn insisted. “Someone who could poison his drink or inject him with no one the wiser.”
“My, you are a vicious thinker.” Frances eyed Jenn.
“I like to watch crime shows on TV.” Jenn shrugged. “Who else was at the center that morning?”
“I was at the other semifinalist table.” Mr. Devaney looked up from his book. “It was me and Irene Kiaser against Thaddeus Kozicki and Bill Bogdan.”
“Who were Papa and Mabel playing?” I asked.
“The team that almost always won these tournaments,” Mr. Devaney said. “Eleanor and Henry De Cross.”
“Again, where is the motive? If they win all the time there was no need for them to poison Papa.”
“People come and go from the center,” Frances said. “It was an especially busy day with the card tournament and the March birthday celebrations.”
Mr. Devaney nodded. “It could have been anyone.”
“Was Colin there?” I asked. I had kept Papa’s secret to myself, only telling my friends that Trent suspected Papa was murdered as well as Joe.
Frances pursed her lips. “Colin could have been there,” she said. “He did some work around the center when he was sober. If he was particularly down on his luck, he’d come in for a free meal.”
“It wasn’t unusual to see him there.” Mr. Devaney put down his book. “He’s one of those people that fades into the background. Why do you ask?”
“Colin was one of Papa’s longtime friends,” I said and sipped my wine. “He also had access to the McMurphy.”
“You think he knew about the tunnel?” Jenn asked.
“He worked at the McMurphy for twenty years,” I said.
“The handyman’s workshop is in the basement,” Mr. Devaney said. “He had to know about the tunnel.”
“You are giving him too much credit,” Frances said. “Colin has been a drunk his entire life. I doubt he thought much past where his next bottle would come from.”
“Being the town drunk would be a great cover,” Jenn mused. “Think about it. He could come and go and no one would really see him. People tend to overlook those down on their luck.”
“You got the keys to the McMurphy back when you fired him, right?” Frances asked.
“Actually, I never really fired him. I haven’t seen him since Papa’s funeral.”
“Oh.”
“But I don’t think Papa trusted him with the master key,” I said. “Seriously, Papa would have told me if Colin had one, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes,” Frances said. “He would have.” She patted my hand. “But Colin was here so long it would have been very easy for him to make copies. He could have said he lost the keys and no one would have been the wiser. In fact I can see him making several copies over the years.”
“So he had opportunity and he had means. The man had access to all gardening and household chemicals. No one would think a thing if he ordered extra rodent poison.”
“The McMurphy does not have rodents,” I said.
“You know that,” Jenn pointed out. “But others wouldn’t think twice.”
“The McMurphy is over one hundred years old,” Mr. Devaney added.
“Even if we had Liam exhumed and they discovered he was indeed poisoned by some sort of household poison, what in the world would be the motive?” Frances asked.
“A million dollars’ worth of wine, hidden in the basement,” Mr. Devaney said.
“It’s true,” Jenn said. “Who else would know it was down there?”
“Pete Thompson had access,” I said. “His grandfather could have told him about the tunnel. Or he might have found it when they did the last renovation of the pool house.”
“Pete was not at the senior center when Liam died,” Frances said. “He’s young. He would have stood out.”
“What about his father?” I asked.
“Richard died a few years back. Boating accident.” Frances shivered. “He went out fishing alone. They found his body washed up on shore the next day.”
“Seriously?” Jenn sat up. “Could he have been murdered?”
“Okay, now you are simply seeing murder everywhere,” Mr. Devaney scolded.
“The police ruled it out,” Frances confirmed.
“There is something else,” I said. Everyone looked at me. “I heard that someone saw Colin outside the pool house before Mr. Finley died.”
“What is the connection between Finley’s death and Joe’s murder? Is there even one? Besides the McMurphy?” Mr. Devaney said.
“Wrong place, wrong time?” Frances shrugged.
“So all we have is suspicion.” I sighed. “No real proof of anything.”
“What has Officer Manning discovered? Anything?” Frances asked.
“Trent took Joe’s journals in to the police station, but without any solid evidence we’ve got nothing.”
There was a knock at the front door and Rex stepped into the lobby.
“Speak of the devil,” Jenn muttered. I shot her a look and she winked at me.
“Hi, Rex.” I stood. “Come on in. We were just talking about you.”
“All good I hope.” He took off his hat and stepped up to the fire. “How are you all tonight?”
“We were talking about the lack of concrete evidence in Joe’s murder and the robbery,” Mr. Devaney said. “Anything new on your front?”
“Nothing,” Rex said. “I stopped by to do a check of the McMurphy. Until we have a solid suspect in custody, I’d prefer if you kept the front door locked.”
“This is a hotel, Rex,” I said. “We don’t lock our doors until after nine
PM
, eleven during the season.”
“I understand that,” Rex said. “But until you have a night clerk on duty, I’d rather see you lock the door.”
“Night clerk?” I glanced at Frances.
“We never needed a night clerk,” Frances said. “Liam had a call button put in that runs from the front desk to the apartment. It’s part of the intercom system.”
“You’re going to need a night clerk,” Mr. Devaney said. “Preferably not a young intern, not with the McMurphy the center of these crimes.”
“Right.” I ran my hands over my face. Where was I going to find a responsible night clerk? For that matter how was I going to pay a responsible night clerk? I found myself wishing for one of those bottles of wine to auction off.
It occurred to me that I hadn’t checked the basement for any more wine. Maybe, just maybe those weren’t the last bottles.
“Don’t worry.” Mr. Devaney winked. “I’m sure Frances and I will know someone who’d like to get paid for his insomnia.”
Frances stood and patted my arm. “These things have away of working themselves out.” She grabbed her purple coat from the coat rack and her red fedora from its storage place behind the front desk. “It’s late. If you’re ready to go, Douglas, I could use an escort home.”
“Yes.” Mr. Devaney closed his book and stood. “Manning, take care of the girls.”
The men shook hands. “Will do, sir,” Rex said. “Be careful out there.”
I rolled my eyes at Jenn. I mean, I could take care of myself for goodness’ sake. I’d spent five years in Chicago. This was Mackinac Island. It didn’t get safer than here.
By the time Frances and Mr. Devaney left, Jenn had unfolded her long legs from the settee and headed up the stairs, leaving me alone with Rex.
“You really should get all new locks,” he said. His gorgeous blue gaze was serious.
“I know. I have an appointment with the locksmith tomorrow.”
“Good.” He gave a short nod. The silence between us was awkward. Finally he spit out, “I heard you were seen kissing Trent Jessop at the Beanery this afternoon.”
My cheeks flamed instantly. No slow embarrassment for me. “He wanted to dispel the feud rumors.”
“He certainly did that.” Rex studied me. “Are you seeing him?”
“Why?” I tilted my head. “Is he a suspect?”
Rex’s mouth twitched. “No and neither are you.” His words were thick with meaning.
My heartbeat sped up. “Oh, good to know.”
He stepped into my space, heating it up with all his uniformed-covered muscles. He really had the prettiest eyes.
“You know, I never did search the basement for any more of that wine,” I blurted out. I didn’t want him to ask me again if I was seeing Trent. “If there’s more down there, the thief is sure to come back. We don’t want that, do we?”
Chapter 37
“You need better lighting down here,” Rex muttered as he used his flashlight to look through the boxes Papa had stacked in the dark corners of the McMurphy.
“If you think this is bad, you should go through the attic.” I laughed. We both froze. He looked at me. “No,” I answered the unasked question. “I never looked in the attic.”
We both headed up the stairs.
“When was the last time you were in the attic?” he asked.
“Not since the elevator was inspected. The attic was full of boxes and things covered by sheets. I didn’t have time to do anything but show the inspector the way to the mechanism.”
“Where is the access?” Rex asked.
“There’s a door and pull-down stairs in the hall of the apartment between the bedrooms.” We hurried through the lobby and up to the apartment.
“Is that the only access?”
“The only that I know of,” I said, breathless. “But then, I didn’t know about the tunnel, either.”
“Any access from the second floor? Say the utility closet?”
“You checked that room when you investigated Joe’s death.”
“Yes, but as you said, we didn’t know about the tunnel.”
I stopped on the second-floor landing. “The utility room is beside the elevator. At best there’s access to the elevator shaft. But the elevator doesn’t go up to the third floor.”
Rex stepped in front of me and used his flashlight to illuminate the hallway. “Since we’re here, let’s check it out to be sure.”
I followed him down the hall to the utility room. I hadn’t done anything with the room since I brought in crime-scene cleanup specialists to erase the tragedy from the McMurphy.
The closet was empty except for the set of shelves along the wall. They were made of walnut and built in. I didn’t have the heart to pull them out. A single bulb glared above, throwing the corners into shadow. There was enough room for two people to walk in comfortably.
“I haven’t been in here since that night,” I mentioned as Rex knocked on the walls. “You don’t think the shelves would have the same mechanism . . .” I ran my hands along the bottom of the shelves and discovered a metal lever that matched the one in the basement.
The shelves rotated on a silent pivot, revealing a two-foot opening. A rush of musty attic air blew in. I looked at Rex and he looked at me. “Well . . .”
He stepped into the opening, his flashlight revealing a set of narrow steps going up into the darkness. “Now that’s something,” he said.
“It looks like it was put in when the elevator was put in,” I said. “See how it opens up above the elevator. It must have been there for working access.”
“Why hide it?” he asked and went up the stairs. His flashlight illuminated the well-oiled mechanism at the top of the elevator.
“I don’t know,” I said and pressed a push-button light switch. A light came on above the elevator. “I thought these stairs were only for elevator repairs. It never occurred to me that there might be a door at the bottom.”
“The door was well oiled. Who else would know about this?” Rex asked.
“Colin Ferber, of course. Maybe the elevator inspector, but he didn’t mention the door to me.”
We moved into the attic and I noticed that the attic floor was swept clean. There was no dust to look for prints in. Weird, right? I went around and turned on the lights. The attic ran the full length of the McMurphy and floorboards had been put in with the thought that the space might be used for something other than storage. But no one in the family had done anything more than store things up here.
There was a narrow two-foot walkway. Otherwise the attic was filled to overflowing with boxes, cartons, etc. Who knew what treasures the attic of the McMurphy would hold? Maybe it was worth my time to dig around and find out.
“I bet I could have a giant rummage sale and earn enough to pay a night clerk for a week,” I joked.
Rex made a sound as if he were listening to me, but his attention was on the light from his flashlight and the boxes with the least amount of dust. “Someone’s been squatting up here.”
His words sent a chill down my spine. “What?” Had someone been sleeping above me all these weeks?
He moved a set of two boxes and showed me that someone had indeed been living above me. Behind the boxes on the far side of the attic was what appeared to be a mattress on the floor complete with sheets and blankets. A hot plate rested on the top of a wood box. There was a clean fry pan on it along with a stored pile of dishes.
“They haven’t been here in a couple of days,” he said as he checked out the bed. “There’s a fine layer of dust on the trunk.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” I muttered. Only it wasn’t. Not really. I looked up at the sloping roof of the McMurphy. “Do you think it was Colin? I heard he’d lost everything when his wife died.”
“Hard to tell,” Rex said as he investigated the well-hidden squatter’s nest. “Had to be here when you had the elevator inspected,” he said. “There is more than a week’s worth of dust on these things.”
“Okay, super creepy. There isn’t a lock on the attic door to the apartment,” I said. “I never thought I needed it.”
“There will be one before I leave tonight,” he said gravely.
“Right.” I opened the attic door to the apartment, lowering the stairs. “Jenn?” I called. “Don’t freak, it’s me and Rex in the attic.”
There was no reply. I drew my brows together. “Jenn?”
“Is she in the bathroom?” Rex asked.
“Maybe she came back downstairs,” I said and went down the attic steps to the apartment. It was strangely quiet. “Jenn?”
I checked the bathroom, both bedrooms, and the living area. There was no sign of Jenn. The door to the interior of the hotel was open slightly so I pulled it open. “Jenn?”
“Is she here?” Rex asked as he emerged from the hallway.
“Not in the apartment,” I said. “She did say she was coming up here, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did,” he agreed.
“I’ll check downstairs.” I went to move through the door when Rex gently grabbed hold of my arm.
“Let me.”
I didn’t like the way he was thinking. “Okay, but I’m sure she just went down to the lobby for something.”
“It’s better if I went.” His eyes glittered like a predator who smelled his prey.
“Okay.” I hugged my waist and felt very small. Rex went through the door and moved off into the stairwell. I swear it was creepier to stay in the apartment by myself than it would have been if I had run down the stairs with Rex.
I heard barking in the distance. “Mal?” I checked her crate and she was not in it. Anger surged through me. If that creep hurt my puppy he was going to be a dead man. I’d gladly take the rap for that. “Mal? Here, Mal. Marshmallow?” I tried not to sound desperate as I followed the sound of the barking. The barking grew louder as I went toward the kitchen. “Mal?”
Then I noticed the back door was cracked. “Mal!” She was still a tiny puppy. She could easily fall the three stories and hurt herself. Panic whipped through me. My heart rate sped up and my hands trembled as I opened the door.
Mal stood at the edge of the fire escape with her tiny head between the bars, barking up a storm. I bent down and scooped her up quickly. “Oh, my gosh, baby, you scared the heck out of me. How did you get out?”
Mal licked my cheek, then looked out and barked again. The sound was definitely loud and at a tone that made all the hairs on my skin stand up. “Mal!”
She wouldn’t stop. I looked out to see that Jenn was being dragged down the alley, kicking and what would have been screaming if the perp didn’t have his hands over her face.
“Jenn!” I tucked Mal under my arm and let the fire-escape ladder loose. We scurried down as if my feet were on fire. Mal picked up on my fear and barked her head off. It was as if I had a siren under my arm. I hit the ground as the figure muscling Jenn away glanced back.
It was Colin Ferber. The back door to the McMurphy flew open with a bang and Rex stormed out, gun in hand. Mal and I froze. “Don’t shoot!” I raised my free hand. Mal was silent and I swear she had her puppy paws up as well. The sight of a police-issue gun was enough to scare anyone.