Room At The Inn (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) (20 page)

"What happens next?" Maggie asked, and then took a bite of her sub.

"I didn't know you were getting out of the hospital, or we could have gone home today," Richard said. "Those reservations are for a four o'clock flight out of Albany—tomorrow."

"Then I take it Sgt. Beach says we can go."

"Yeah, but we still don't know who killed Eileen," I said.

"What else can we do?" Richard asked.

"I know a lot more about the players in this little drama, but I'm no closer to knowing who did it. And I'm getting really tired," I admitted.

Maggie took a good, hard look at me. "Jeff, you look terrible. What happened?"

"The Great and Powerful Resnick knows all—except his own limits," Richard said. "We ought to hire him out for parties: 'Have your past read.' It might be funny if it didn't cost him so much."

"Would you mind not talking about me like I'm not in the room. I didn't ask for this to happen to me. I feel like a broken radio that only gets an intermittent signal."

"You seemed to have been adjusting your signal just fine last night."

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Like who killed Eileen?" Maggie suggested. "I'm assuming you made progress at the party."

"Ted. It's obvious it was Ted," Richard said.

"So what's his motive?" I asked. "People usually only kill to save their necks or to gain something—like money. If Eileen had money, she wouldn't have been blackmailing Laura. I might believe Ted killed Eileen for Laura, but how would she get him to do it?"

"How did Eileen find out Laura was even with Ted?" Maggie asked. "And what’s the big deal anyway? It’s not a sin for a younger guy to be with an older woman."

She had that right. "It depends on the age of the couple.” I filled her in on our little hypnotism experiment the night before.

"Whoa. Screwing with little boys. That’s just plain nasty."

"It depends on the age of the boy. I imagine quite a few thirteen year olds would be thrilled to have sex with an older woman despite what some shrinks and the law say. But at age ten—that’s really pushing it. "

"I didn’t think a boy that young could even—" She hesitated. "Get it up."

Richard cleared his throat, but said nothing.

"Then how about Susan as a suspect?" Maggie suggested. "Adam thought she qualified."

"And she's a good one," I agreed. "He might have had good reason to suspect her and try and protect her." I told Maggie about my revelation at breakfast. She didn't seem surprised.

"She and Laura sure like them young." She shook her head. "I suppose it's understandable if Zack prefers older women over her. Do you think he knows about her and Adam?"

"Maybe he doesn't care. Then again, Eileen thought Zack wanted to buy her out for a two hundred and fifty grand. The inn is worth a lot more than that. If they can get those remaining rooms finished, they'd make out like bandits during a good ski season."

"Yes, and a decent lawyer would negotiate for better than that for her," Richard pointed out.

"I don't think she'd take a deal. I think she likes being an innkeeper," I said.

"Why do you say that?" Richard asked.

"The inside of the Sugar Maple is Susan's domain—and it's immaculate. Out back there must be five or six different gardens that, until recently, look like they've had a lot of care. I'm assuming that was Zack's interest. Didn't you say he had a landscaping business at one time, Maggie?" She nodded. "Everything was kind of shaggy when we arrived. The shrubs by the sign at the edge of the road are in desperate need of trimming. The outside of the inn is where tourists get their first impression of the place."

"You're right. Susan was so proud of that Triple-A shingle. She said they worked hard to get it."

"Sloppy gardening isn't a motive for murder," Richard pointed out.

"No, but it shows Zack's interest in the place has waned. Maybe he had other interests he wanted to pursue."

"You did say he'd do anything to get the money. Perhaps he'd lie about leaving Susan to get it. What if he had some other purpose in mind that even Eileen didn't know about?"

Something about that rang true. "Maybe he just got sick of playing first mate to Captain Susan. I mean, think about it. He had what amounted to a yacht and he sold it for Susan and the Sugar Maple Inn. What if he just wants to sail away and out of Susan’s life? "

Richard shrugged.

Maggie frowned. "I still think Susan’s the killer. She was livid when she told Eileen to leave. I can tell you from experience, it's humiliating to know your husband is catting around—be it with another woman or another man."

"But is that a motive for murder?"

She shrugged. "Maybe not. I still love Gary. A part of me always will."

"Yeah, but you're not a coldhearted bitch like Susan, either."

"Did she even know Eileen and Zack were lovers?" Richard asked.

"I don't know. Maybe she knew and didn't care, especially if young Adam had been servicing her. But when she argued with Eileen, she didn't know we'd come down to the pool and were listening. If Susan was angry enough to kill Eileen, wouldn't she have hit her then?"

"I suppose she could've gone back to kill her later," Richard suggested. "But it doesn't seem likely." He balled the papers from his lunch and tossed them at the wastebasket across the room. Missed.

"Let's get back to Zack," Maggie said. "Maybe Laura wasn't going to come up with the money and Zack and Eileen argued. Murders often happen in the heat of passion."

"And the passion had definitely cooled between them."

"Another reason for murder," Richard said, retrieving the papers and disposing of them. "Do you think it was Zack who burned those pages in the barbecue?"

"I'd lay odds. He showed up after Susan—just as the police arrived on Saturday morning. That would've given him almost ten minutes to go through Eileen's room and remove anything incriminating."

Maggie frowned. "Did they ever determine what the murder weapon was?"

"Technically Eileen drowned, but I don't think they came up with the blunt instrument that knocked her out first. And it wasn't the plastic scotch bottle, either. Even full of liquid, I’m not so sure it was rigid enough to fracture her skull."

"That would depend on the force of the blow, but I tend to agree with you," Richard said, and Maggie handed him her leftovers for the trash.

She adjusted the pillow under her leg. "They've all got motives for killing the poor woman."

"But there has to be one crucial piece of evidence that's missing. And somehow you know about it," Richard said.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Why else would someone come after you and Maggie? There's no reason—unless you know something incriminating about the killer."

"Well, I don't have a clue what it could be. And it can't be that important or they—he or she—would've tried again."

"They might—tonight," Richard said.

"Why?"

"Because we let it be known we're leaving tomorrow."

That statement troubled me.

I looked down at what was left of my hoagie and sank back in the chair. As Richard had said, I probably did know something so simple it was invisible to me. But what?

I glanced at my lady across the room. She looked weary. I felt weary. "Are you okay, Maggs?"

She nodded. "I guess."

"You both look like sleep refugees," Richard said.

I glanced at my brother. "You don't look that hot, either."

"Okay—it's unanimous. We're all tired. Tomorrow night we'll be home in our own beds."

I gathered up the mess in front of me and stashed it in the brown paper sack our lunch had come in.

Beds.

Bedroom.

Bedroom closet.

The prescription bottle in Zack's closet.

"Here's something I forgot to mention. When I was nosing around in Zack's and Susan's apartment, I found a prescription bottle hidden in some shoes in the closet."

"What was it for?" Richard asked.

I spelled it for him.

Richard looked up sharply. "Are you sure?"

"I think so. What is it?"

He laughed. "It's generic Viagra."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"As sure as I know my own name."

"Then that must mean that without a little blue pill, Zack’s rather useless in bed."

Richard nodded.

"No wonder Susan went looking for greener pastures," Maggie commented

I sipped the last of my coffee. "Or maybe it was the only way he could do it with Eileen. It might be the only way I’d have been able to do the same."

Maggie giggled. “Okay, if Laura wasn't going to pay Eileen, that left Zack without money for a new boat. Do you think that's enough of a motive for him to kill Eileen?"

"I don't think it was Zack," I said.

"I'll second that," Richard said. "It's Ted. It's got to be Ted."

"But if Susan found out about Zack and Eileen—" Maggie started.

"If she was angry about it, she'd be radiating some pretty strong emotions."

"Ah, but as you pointed out to Sergeant Beach," Richard said, "there's the guilt factor. If she didn't feel bad about killing him, she wouldn't be radiating any kind of guilt or remorse. And you don't pick up on everything everyone feels."

I nodded, conceding defeat. "You’re right. Susan’s a blank slate to me. Then, I guess we're back to square one."

"So what's our next move?" Maggie asked.

"Go home. We can't hang around here forever."

"What time shall we leave tomorrow morning?" Richard asked.

"We should be on the road by ten at the latest."

"No problem for me," he said.

"Me, either," Maggie seconded. "I've been waiting to go home almost since we got here."

The quiet lengthened.

Maggie broke the silence. "What's in that envelope?" she asked, pointing to her stuff piled on the dresser.

"Beach handed it to me last night," Richard said.

I grabbed it, tore open the flap, and withdrew the contents: a copy of the accident report on my car, along with a bunch of eight and a half by eleven inch sheets of inkjet images of what I’d taken of the inn, as well as the memory card. "Not bad."

Richard looked over my shoulder and Maggie craned her neck. "I told you they'd come out good. I can't wait to see the rest of them," she said.

"We can look at them tomorrow night on the computer. How's the article coming?"

"Pretty good. I can probably finish it by the weekend and we can email the whole thing off next Monday."

"Your first sale," Richard said to me.

I crossed my fingers. "I hope."

Maggie tried to stifle a yawn.

"I think someone needs her rest," Richard said.

"Why am I so tired?" she asked.

"Blood loss, trauma. Need I say more?"

"I suppose you guys are going to take off?" she said, sounding grumpy

"Just to give you some peace and quiet."

"I guess you're right. But I feel like I'm missing out on all the fun."

"Believe me, there's been a serious lack of so far on this trip," Richard said. That, at least, made Maggie smile.

Richard grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

"Give me a minute, will you, bro?"

He smiled. "Sure. See you later, Maggie." He closed the door behind him.

"Are you coming back tonight?" she asked.

"I don't know, Maggs. I'd like to find out who killed Eileen before we leave. If I can, I'll be back to spend the night with you."

"Jeff, let the police handle it. It's what they get paid for."

I put the envelope on the bedside table. "I know."

"And don't take any stupid chances."

"You worry too much."

"After all that's happened, I think it's justified."

I opened my wallet, disappointed to find only eleven dollars. I took out the two bills and crushed them into Maggie's palm. "In case we miss you for dinner, there's a diner on the other side of the office. It's open 'til eight. If they've got room service, use it."

"What about tomorrow morning?" she reminded me. "Are we really going to leave?"

"Yes.”

She studied my face, looking skeptical. "Why don't I believe you?"

"We will." I gave her a quick kiss. "I gotta go."

"If you're going to be too late, at least call me."

"I will." I kissed her again, longer, more intensely. When I pulled back, her expression was still unhappy. "Get some rest," I ordered, and headed for the door.

Her voice stopped me. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Maggie." I shut the door behind me, feeling like a jerk—knowing she'd be crying before I got to the car.