Authors: Camilla Chafer
I crossed the few paces towards the wall and crouched next to him. "The pile of the carpet is ruffled here, and again here," I said, pointing to where the carpet met the baseboards.
"That's consistent with a door opening. I don't see any obvious handles. Maybe the entry mechanism is concealed." Solomon got to his feet, moving toward the lamp on the credenza. "Look for any kind of lever or..."
I leaned against the panel and pushed. The doorway slid backwards on well-oiled hinges.
"...Or feel under the furniture for a button or a trigger of some kind. Maybe there's a... oh! How did you get that open?"
"I pushed." I concealed my smug smile by biting the insides of my cheeks.
"Cool." Solomon stepped through the doorway, turning back to face me. Just as he did, the door began to close. He shifted his shoulder against it and pushed back. Seconds later, a light flickered on. "There's a light switch here," he said, "and the door is on a timer. Must be so housekeeping won't forget to close it behind them."
"So where does it go?" I asked.
"Let's find out." Solomon took my hand and led us forwards as the overhead lights flickered on ahead of us. Behind me, the door closed.
"There's a little hole in the door," I said, stopping to peer at it. "Like a spy hole."
"Must be so housekeeping can check the room is empty before they enter."
"Or so they can spy and hear secrets," I countered.
"If all the blackmail notes arrived here, I would agree with that theory and start looking at hotel employees, but the blackmail started way before the band got here. Look, here's another spy hole. I'm guessing, but I think this is Katya's room. Put your gloves back on." Solomon pulled on a pair of latex gloves before pushing on the door, which slid backwards. We stepped into the room and Solomon pressed something on the electronic panel inside the passage. "There's an option to keep the door open until it's manually canceled," he explained. "I've seen this model before."
I walked around the room, being extra careful not to touch anything. As far as I knew, it was still a crime scene, and having never had any cause to be in Katya's bedroom, I didn't want to add the notion that I was in it. I figured that was why Solomon prepared us with latex gloves. "This is Katya's room. These framed photos are hers and I recognize that leather jacket. And those heels. They aren't even in stores yet."
"How'd Katya get them?"
"Could only have been a gift from the designer."
"Why would they do that?"
"B4U are huge. If they're seen wearing something new, it sells out in hours."
Solomon frowned. "Really?"
"That's celebrity. If B4U wears it, their fans want it. Katya might even have been paid to wear the brand in an endorsement deal."
"How much is that worth?"
"The sky's the limit."
"We're in the wrong business."
"You want to be paid to wear a high heels? There are definitely people who will pay for that," I said, barely holding back my laughter.
"I like those cute ballet pumps you wear sometimes."
"They don't come in your size."
"Would you like another pair? In another color?"
"Yes, in all the colors."
"Show me the ones you want and I'll get them for you. They look comfortable and easy to balance in."
"Said no women ever when picking shoes." I reached for the door handle and pulled the door open only to find myself at eye level with a gun barrel. I slammed the door shut. "Solomon! Gun!"
The door was flung open and the gun poked through. Solomon grabbed his gun and aimed. "Put down your weapon!" he yelled.
"Put your weapon down!" yelled the other man.
"Maddox?" I yelled over them.
"Lexi?" Maddox sighed. "Solomon?" He holstered his weapon and rolled his head back. "I could have shot you."
"Unlikely," said Solomon, lowering his own gun.
"I feel left out. Should I point at something when I stop hyperventilating? Maybe my finger while I shout at you?" I asked Maddox.
He looked chagrined. "Sorry."
"What are you doing here anyway?"
"I just got here and was looking over the crime scene when I heard someone moving around in Katya's room. Since I just left her room, I knew no one was in there. You two spooked me! How did you get in there anyway?"
"Secret tunnel," said Solomon casually, like he used one every day.
"You'd better show me."
Solomon inclined his head as he turned away. "This way."
We trooped after Solomon, the three of us entering the tunnel. "That way is Amelia and Shelley's suite, where we entered," Solomon said, pointing back the way we came.
"What about this way?" asked Maddox.
"We haven't gone that far yet."
"Let's go."
The passageway continued for several meters before we stopped. "Here's another exit," said Solomon, his voice soft. "I can see Joe Carter in his suite and the band."
"Keep going," replied Maddox equally softly.
We continued silently, reaching a dead end. "Let's go all the way back," Solomon said.
Without space to pass each other, we turned around. Now that I was in front, I could see the long tunnel stretching ahead of me. The lights flickered out and my heart pumped faster until I was sure it must have been audible to the two large men behind me. The lights popped back on, revealing no assailants, which was fortunate since I was the only one without a gun. I decided I'd just duck if it came to a shooting match.
"Sorry about the lights. They must be on timer or some kind of sensor too," said Solomon. "Lexi, go all the way to the end, past Katya's suite."
We retraced our steps along the length of the passageway, counting the exits to Joe's suite, Katya's room, past Shelley's, and finally exiting into the housekeeping closet. "This tunnel could conceal anyone who wants to move around this floor unseen," I said.
"And all they have to do is get into that elevator and leave," said Maddox. "Why did no one tell me about this? I spoke to the hotel manager and the security team."
"We only just found out," I told him, deciding to skip over the moment my suspicions started. "I suspected there was a secret door somewhere, but not as extensive as this. That could explain how Katya was killed and no one saw a thing after Lauren left the room."
"It also doesn't rule out any member of the band, or their manager as the blackmailer. Or anyone who could have found out about the passage," said Solomon as he pulled out his cell phone and hit a button. "Delgado, get someone up to the band's floor. I need a guy to monitor a secret door. Yeah, a secret door. Now."
"I'm going to fingerprint," said Maddox, grabbing a kit from his pocket.
"You just happen to keep that on you?" I asked.
"I have all kinds of emergency stuff in my pockets. Penknife, string, notepad and pencil, gum..."
"You're a regular Boy Scout."
"What do you have in your pocket?" he asked.
"A manicure loyalty card."
"Solomon?" Maddox asked.
"Yeah?"
"What do you have in your pocket?"
"Seriously?" Solomon faced Maddox, his face impassive. That, I knew by now, was his version of stony.
"Seriously."
"Get fingerprinting."
Maddox gave me a little eye roll and stepped back into the passageway, reaching for the lights. A moment later, the door slid shut behind him. I ran my hand around the doorway, impressed at how well concealed it was. I couldn't even see the lights that I knew must be on the other side.
"We should get the band's fingerprints for comparison with anything Maddox finds," I said. "Perhaps you could ask him when you're feeling politer?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"The way you just spoke to him!"
"How?"
"He was just making a joke, and you cut him down."
"We're here to solve a blackmailer running into tens of thousands of dollars that ended in a murder."
"That's not Maddox's fault, so there's no need to be an ass."
Solomon raised his eyebrows. "Did you call me an ass?"
"I'm going to step outside for some fresh air," I decided. I knew how easily this could become an argument and I didn't want to participate, so instead I turned towards the hallway, walking right into Amelia as I stepped out of the small room.
"What are you doing in here?" she asked. "Isn't that the housekeeping closet?"
"Following a lead," I told her. "But I'm glad I ran into you. We need to take your fingerprints."
"What for?"
"We're checking the fingerprints in the rooms and on the envelopes and letters," I lied, "and we need to take yours for comparison."
"The police already took them when they found Katya."
"We need some too."
"Well, sure. No problem," Amelia agreed. "Anything I can do to help, but I guess my fingerprints are on everything. I think I touched all the letters."
"There's a kit in the car," Solomon said, stepping behind me. "I'll get them."
"No, it's okay. I was stepping outside anyway. I'll get it and be right back," I told him, stepping around Amelia and heading for the elevator before Solomon could stop me. I needed the fresh air, but I needed the space more. It wasn't just Solomon's rudeness to Maddox that puzzled me; it was his recent behavior towards me. He'd been remarkably attentive and more than a little pissed when guys spoke to me. I understood that. Josh Alvarez objectified me, while Maddox was my ex. Although I thought Solomon's concern about me was sweet, some of his comments confused me. As I stepped out of the elevator, I figured Solomon must be on some weird kind of health kick that he wanted me to participate in. Perhaps it was affecting his mood.
I passed a couple of hotel employees on my way to the parking lot, smiling as one face looked familiar. The maid nodded and looked away quickly, rushing forwards as my step faltered.
"Hey!" I turned, calling. "I know you! You're not a maid!"
The fake maid broke into a faster walk and I doubled my speed until I could grab her by the arm.
"Excuse me!" she squawked, pulling her arm back. "Get off me! I have rooms to make up."
"You're Shayne Winter. The journalist."
"I'm not. I'm..." She peered down at the nametag sewn onto her uniform.
"You are not Juanita," I told her.
"Damn it," Shayne sighed. "It nearly worked. I know who you are too. You're Lexi Graves. Here's the deal. Tell me what you know and I'll print your comments as an anonymous source for my paper."
"I'm not telling you anything!"
"Why not? I put you on the front cover of the
Montgomery Gazette
. I made you famous."
"The
Gazette
does not make you famous."
"Semi famous. In Montgomery."
"I don't want to be famous anywhere. And I'm not letting you break into B4U's floor."
"You don't have to let me. Be my inside source instead." Shayne pulled a small recording device from a pocket and shoved it under my chin. "What are the band doing right now? Are they devastated? Are they planning Katya's funeral? What are they wearing? What was Katya wearing when she died?"
"I'm calling security."
"Just a few words. Who cried the most? Are they going to regroup as a trio? Have the police nailed a suspect yet?"
"Um, let me see..." I waited as Shayne's eyes widened in anticipation. "Oh yeah, not telling," I teased.
"How about I tell you something and you tell me something," Shayne said, playing her trump card.
"What do you know?" I asked.
"Something juicy. What's it worth?"
"Tell me first."
We played standoff for a few minutes, staring at each other, then blinking when it got too hard not to. Shayne gave up first. "Fine. Amelia got married last year and you'll never guess who her husband is. I'm breaking the story in tomorrow's edition."
My mouth dropped open. "Who?"
"Your turn."
"I can't tell you anything."
"Then I'm not telling you who her husband is."
"You've told me enough." I raised a hand to Delgado as he stepped through the glass doors, flanked by two security guards. "Security! Get this journalist out of the hotel and don't let her in again."
"Hey!" Shayne yelled, breaking into a run. The two security guards followed after her.
"How did she get in?" Delgado asked, joining me to watch as Shayne and the guards sprinted along the corridor before veering to the left and out of view.
I handed him the car keys. "No idea. Can you grab the fingerprint kit from the trunk of Solomon's car? Shayne Winter just gave me a huge tip."
"I don't think she gets how to be a maid at all. She's supposed to take the tips," said Delgado and laughed.