“Whoa,” I said. Thinking about the freaky timing, I then asked, “If Faline was killed in Germany, what was Sophie doing here in San Francisco?”
MacDonald ran a hand through his hair. “That’s what was so upsetting to her supervisor. He says that when he found out that Faline had been killed he took Sophie off the case, deciding it was too dangerous for her to continue with the investigation, and to pay the claim for the stolen property instead and let the authorities handle it. Sophie was understandably upset by the ordeal and asked for some time off to visit her sister in Sussex, which was where everyone thought she’d gone.”
“But she continued to work the case and came here on the trail of the mirrors and the knife,” I surmised. “I mean, it
can’t
be a coincidence that she and the stolen artifacts were all in the same place at once.” I was going to tell MacDonald that he needed to talk with Beckworth—and soon—when I heard a shout from across the lobby.
We all turned to see Gilley hurrying toward us. “Who’s your daddy?” he called as he approached, a smile as big as Texas plastered onto his face and some paper in his hand.
“You found something?” I said, very surprised that he’d come up with anything in such a short period of time.
“Wikipedia,” he said, taking a seat on a chair opposite me. “It never fails.”
“So tell us what you’ve got!” I was anxious to put more of the puzzle together.
“Oruç Reis was an Ottoman pirate and lived from 1474 to 1518. He was better known as Baba Oruç, or Father Oruç, which is why M.J. thinks he’s out of a country song.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes.
“Still, that’s a pretty amazing hit,” offered MacDonald, who I swear was quickly becoming my biggest fan.
“Anyhoo,” said Gil, “this Oruç character was a nasty beast of a man. He pretty much terrorized the coast of Portugal for his entire adult life, but there is one thing that I noted of particular interest here, and that is that Oruç had a taste for the occult.”
“He did?” Heath asked.
“Yes,” said Gilley, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm. “It seems that Oruç had spent time along the Barbary Coast and in the company of a particularly powerful witch. Baba became well practiced in dark magic, and it was said that he carried a special dagger to help him conjure up evil spirits to use in battle against his enemies. This dagger was also supposed to give him immortality, and it had a taste for virgins.”
“So the dagger kept its side of the deal,” I said. “The spirit of Oruç lives within the dagger.”
MacDonald said, “And it did kill Odolina—I’m assuming she was a virgin?”
“I’m sure of it,” I said, remembering the girl’s terror about being ravaged by the Turk, and the fact that she was on her way to her betrothed. No way would a young girl of noble birth have been anything less than virginal in those days.
“Tracy clearly wasn’t a virgin,” Heath pointed out. “I wonder why she was killed with the knife.”
“Yes, she was,” said Gopher, and we all turned to him in surprise. He blushed and shrugged his shoulders. “That’s why I moved on from hanging out with her. I could never get past third base.”
I scowled hard at him. “You’re disgusting,” I said.
“I know, I know,” he replied. “I’m a real shit. And I’ve turned over a new leaf since she died, I swear.” We all looked at him skeptically. “Seriously!” he said, holding up his right palm. “I’ve sworn off women.”
“Me too,” said Gilley, bouncing his eyebrows.
I gave him a level look and got us back on track. “Gil, whatever happened to this Oruç character . . . I mean, he’s obviously grounded and very attached to this dagger, so I’m assuming that despite his belief in its protection, he still died violently?”
Gilley’s eyes lit up. “Oh, man!” he said. “I forgot to tell you the best part! In one hell of an ironic twist it turns out that our guy Baba was murdered in his sleep by one of his concubines. He was stabbed in the heart with his own dagger by a woman believed to have the ability to communicate with the spirits of the dead virgins murdered with the knife!”
“No freaking way!” I gasped.
“Way,” he said. “Which is why Baba might have such a strong vendetta against the likes of you.”
“So what about Sophie?” Heath asked. “What does she have to do with all of this?”
I turned to MacDonald. “I think we need to have a lengthy conversation with Mr. Beckworth.”
“We do?”
“Yes,” I insisted.
“Why?”
“Follow my logic here,” I said, standing up to pace the floor again. “Sophie learns that Faline has been murdered and is formally taken off the case. But she doesn’t want to give up; she’s too close to catching up with the stolen artifacts. And say that she discovers that the mirrors and the knife have been fenced; someone with a lot of money has purchased them and taken them out of the country. She follows that trail and it leads her here, to this hotel where the mirrors are displayed in plain view. She also discovers that Beckworth—the owner of this establishment—has purchased them. She has the evidence and prepares to confront him. They meet in her room—which is why there was no sign of forced entry—and argue. He realizes she’s got the goods on him and a struggle takes place. He strangles her, and ransacks her room trying to find the evidence she’s got against him.
“He either locates the evidence or she’s hidden it so well no one can find it, and then Beckworth realizes that Sophie’s waking up. He panics and throws her over the balcony!”
There was silence around the seating area for several long seconds as everyone sorted through my theory. Finally Gilley played devil’s advocate. “But how does an old guy with a cane heave a woman over a balcony railing like that? And why would he leave her room so ransacked? And for that matter, why leave the mirrors in plain sight until you came along and said something? Why wouldn’t he have taken them down immediately?”
“And why would he mount them in the hotel at all?” added Gopher. “I mean, if they’re really worth as much as you say they are, wouldn’t he have hung them in areas less public? Anyone could grab one and run out the door with it. A busy place like this? They’d be gone in a flash.”
I sat back down on the couch and frowned. “Fine,” I said. “So my theory has a few holes. But we’re not going to know for sure unless we talk with Beckworth.”
“Do you have his number?” said MacDonald.
“No, but the assistant manager probably does,” I said, pointing over my shoulder to the depressed guy at the front desk.
“Okay,” said MacDonald. “Sit tight and I’ll see what I can find out.”
Chapter 13
Beckworth turned up about ten minutes later, and he and MacDonald moved off to talk privately in his office. The rest of us went to our rooms to watch television and hang out. None of us had yet decided what to do about the other ghosts on our list, but my thinking was that this bust was a bust.
I wanted nothing more to do with the hotel, the murders, or the ghosts. I really just wanted to go home. Gil and Heath knocked on my door, ready to discuss that very topic, and noticed my suitcase on the bed. “Packing?” said Heath.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m antsy to get this job over with, and I want to be ready to leave the moment we wrap it up.”
“Me too,” said Gilley.
“Me three,” said Heath with a sigh. “That last encounter with Oruç nearly did me in.”
“Imagine it from my side,” I said, then instantly regretted it, especially when I caught Heath wince. “Hey,” I said, setting my packed suitcase on the floor. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
There was an uncomfortable silence until Gilley said, “At least you’ve got luggage to pack.”
“Did you hear from the airline?” I asked, thinking it had been a while since Gilley had complained about his lost sweatshirt.
“Not since they told me it had been rerouted back to Boston,” he moaned. “I’m waiting for them to call and let me know when it should arrive here.”
Just then my room phone rang. I looked at Gilley with raised eyebrows. “Maybe that’s them now.”
“It’s me,” said MacDonald when I picked it up.
“Are you through with Beckworth?”
“Not quite,” he said. “Can you come down here and talk with us for a little while?”
Heath and Gilley were both looking at me expectantly. “Sure,” I said. “But I’m bringing the gang with me.”
“That’s fine,” said MacDonald. “Bring them along. We’re in Beckworth’s office.”
I hung up and told Gil and Heath that we were expected in Beckworth’s office.
“What’s
that
about?” said Gil.
“I don’t have a clue,” I admitted. “But MacDonald sounded serious, so I don’t think we should keep him.”
We took the stairs, crossed the mezzanine, and passed the front desk. The manager on duty wasn’t at his usual post, which made me happy that I didn’t have to explain our business to him as we entered the back hallway leading to Beckworth’s office.
I gave a knock, heard a “Come in,” and we went in.
Beckworth was sitting in his large wing chair looking stately but concerned, and MacDonald was on the sofa with his notebook open, talking on his cell phone. Beckworth nodded for us to be seated, and we sat down and waited to be addressed.
MacDonald clicked off a moment later and looked at Beckworth. “Your alibi checks out, sir. Thank you.”
One of Beckworth’s eyebrows lifted. “Of course it does, Detective. I told you I had nothing to do with the tragedies that have befallen my hotel guests of late.”
MacDonald turned to us. “Mr. Beckworth has provided me with a confirmed alibi during the time of both Sophie’s and Tracy’s murders.”
“Good to know,” said Gilley, flashing Beckworth a smile as though he’d known it all along.
“Mr. Beckworth has also told me that he had absolutely no idea that the mirrors he bought at auction were so valuable.” MacDonald lifted a paper receipt off the coffee table in front of him and handed it to me. “This is the bill of sale for the mirrors,” he said.
I took the receipt and studied it. It appeared Beckworth had purchased all four mirrors for about ten thousand euros. I knew that if I was right and those frames were solid gold, their real value was about a hundred times that, if not more.
When I looked up at MacDonald again, he said, “Mr. Beckworth has also stated that he was never told that the mirrors might be haunted by a woman named Odolina, and that he never gave the order to have them dismantled and/or disposed of.”
My jaw dropped. “But you told Anton earlier that you were going to get rid of them!”
Mr. Beckworth sighed as if he were very tired. “I have had no such discussion with anyone regarding those mirrors,” he said. “Nor would I have ever suggested the idea of getting rid of four beautiful mirrors that I had paid almost fifteen thousand dollars for.”
“Then why would Anton . . . ?” I stopped myself as a dead silence fell upon the room.
“M.J.?” Gil said. “Why would Anton what?”
I stood up and looked at MacDonald. “Ohmigod! It was him all along!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe I missed it! It was Anton, Detective! Of course it was him!” I then swiveled over to Heath and said, “And you even came up with the initial A when you were tuning in on Sophie’s murder! It all makes sense!”
I looked back to MacDonald, who was staring at me as if I’d grown three heads. “I’m not following,” he said.
“Anton comes from Europe! He even speaks with a French accent! He must have been Faline’s partner!
That’s
why Sophie was here in San Francisco! She wasn’t following the mirrors; she was
following Anton
!”
As I looked around at all the wide eyes, I realized I was going to have to explain my theory a little more slowly. “There was no sign of forced entry into Sophie’s room when she was murdered. As a manager, Anton had access to any room in the hotel. He could have easily entered her room when her back was turned. He was also on duty the night Heath and I were first attacked by that serpent
and
when Tracy was killed, and he would have had access to the security cameras! He could have corrupted the tapes before the police had a chance to review them! And I’ll bet you that whole incident with him getting hit on the head and being taken to the hospital was his way of throwing suspicion off himself! I mean, how else could he explain his absence from the front desk for so long?
“If Anton set up the auction for the mirrors to be sold and taken out of Europe, he could easily have followed them here and waited for a time when he could steal them again. I’m sure he thought he was really lucky when he learned you all were looking for a new night manager!
“And when I talked to him yesterday about wanting to inspect the mirrors, he knew he had to fake going in to talk to Mr. Beckworth in order to get me to back off, and while we were out at dinner, he was the one who dismantled them and removed them from their mountings! The only one he didn’t have easy access to was the one in the ladies’ room because it’d been sealed and padlocked!”
MacDonald’s face went ashen. “Oh, shit,” he said quietly.
“What?” Heath said.
“The padlock,” said MacDonald. “I forgot to relock the door!”
There was a collective gasp, and then everyone was in motion as we all scrambled out the door and ran back down the corridor and over to the ladies’ room. MacDonald got there first, and he pushed the door open and flipped on the light. I knew what’d happened before I ever saw inside based solely on the look on his face.
“Damn it!” he yelled. “Son of a bitch! That
son of a bitch
!”
The mirror was gone. Behind us I heard Beckworth’s cane tapping the marble floor. He didn’t look happy.
MacDonald had his hands on the sides of his head. “I’m in so much shit!” he was mumbling. “The lieutenant is going to demote me down to traffic cop.”
“Hold on, now; let’s not panic yet,” I said, feeling really bad about asking him to break the seal so that I could get inside to look at the mirror. “Maybe they’re still on the property.”