Weave of Absence (13 page)

“Ah, that explains why he wasn't worried about coming out here. He probably didn't realize Sybille even took pictures of him.” He thought for a second, then added, “But people change over the years. How can she be so sure it was him?”

“She recognized his voice. He used to call Sybille at the apartment, and Nancy and he talked lots of times.”

His interest seemed to sharpen. “Now, that's a detail that sounds convincing.” He put his fork down. “How long ago did Sybille disappear?”

“I'm not exactly sure, but I think it's been twenty years or so.”

“People often change physically over time. After twenty years, most of us are hardly recognizable. But a person's voice, the inflections and accents, those are things that don't change.”

“So you think there's something to Nancy's story?”

“Enough to make it worth looking into,” he said.

“If it's true, that would explain the argument
between Bruce and Helen at the party. She must have recognized him and confronted him. And it gives him a hell of a motive for wanting her out of the way.”

“Hold on a second. Helen was living out here. And she never met, and probably never even spoke to the man. So how could she have recognized him?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. “I don't know. Maybe Sybille took another, clearer picture of her boyfriend and sent it to Helen. Or maybe she sent her an enlarged copy of the one she showed Nancy. The point is, this theory makes sense.”

“Without proof, any theory makes sense.”

I hated it when he talked like a defense attorney. “You're supposed to be helping, not hindering.”

“The problem is, only two people could answer that question and they're both dead.”

I drummed my fingers on the table. “I wonder if he made Sybille take out a life insurance policy too.”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “Sorry, kiddo. I know how much you want to be right, but you said Sybille disappeared, right?” I nodded. “And they never found her body?”

I knew what he was about to say. I had already come to the same conclusion. “I know. I know.”

“It's impossible to get an insurance company to fork over the face amount without proof of death. And that, my dear, is hard to do without a body.”

“I said I know.”

“All right,” Matthew said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Let me add this: I agree with you that the man could potentially be very dangerous. You may be right and he could be a killer. One thing for sure, Marnie has to stay away from him.”

“I sure hope she does. I had the impression she was wavering when I spoke to her earlier today. She wants to give him back his engagement ring. I'm afraid she wants to use that as an excuse to contact him.”

“What? That is just plain crazy. Under no circumstances is she to go anywhere near that man.”

“I promised to pick her up. If I'm with her, I don't see how—”

“Are you crazy? No way. I won't let you.”

I looked at my watch. “But I'm supposed to be there in an hour.”

He was still shaking his head. “Didn't you hear a word I just said? Call her right now. Tell her you can't make it and that she's absolutely not to go by herself.”

I picked up the phone. After four rings, the answering machine came on.

“Hi, Marnie. It's me. Pick up.” I waited until the dial tone. “I know she's screening her calls,” I said to Matthew. I hung up and punched in her number again. Still no answer. “Now I'm getting really worried.”

One look into Matthew's eyes told me he felt much the same. He pushed back his chair. “Let's
go.” Winston jumped to his feet and galloped to the door. “No, Winston. You stay.” He slunk off with his head low.

I grabbed my sweater and scratched Winnie behind the ears. “Don't worry. We'll be back.” I locked the door and raced down the stairs to keep up with Matthew's long legs. “We'll take my car,” I said. “It'll be faster.” Minutes later, we came to a screeching halt in front of Marnie's house. I scrambled out of the driver's seat, and got to the door just as Matthew was pressing the bell.

“Try again,” I said. “She's got to be home.”

“I've already tried three times. I don't care how sore she is, if she's home, she would have made it to the door by now.”

“Unless she's . . .” I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. “What if he came by? She's in love with him. He could have sweet-talked her into letting him in.”

“Do you know if she keeps an emergency key anywhere?”

“I have no idea,” I said, picking up one rock from the border of the flower bed. Soon Matthew and I had turned over all the rocks. We'd checked the mailbox and under the doormat.

“I found it,” he said, slipping the key into the lock. “It was above the doorframe.”

The door swung open and we ran inside. I raced to the bedroom. It was empty, the bed neatly made. “She's not here.” I hurried back out and knocked on the bathroom door. “Marnie? Are you
in there?” No answer. I pushed it open. Empty. My heart was pounding harder with every passing minute. I ran to the kitchen, and then to the professional kitchen. My eyes fell on the walk-in freezer and my heart almost stopped.
Oh, dear God, no.
I tore open the door, and almost collapsed with relief. The only thing in the freezer was food.

Marnie was not at home. I trudged back to the living room and let myself collapse onto the red-lips sofa.

“Where do you think she is? Actually, don't answer that.” I dropped my face into my hands. “I should have stayed with her. If anything's happened to her, I'll never forgive myself.”

Matthew sat down next to me, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “She's probably just gone to the store or something. It's way too soon to worry.”

“No. She knew I was coming here at eight thirty. If she needed anything, she would have asked me to pick it up.”

Matthew looked at his watch. “It's only a quarter to eight. You said she was expecting you at eight thirty? I bet she'll be back by then.”

I wanted to believe him. “I don't know. I have a really bad feeling.” His forehead furrowed. “What is it?” I asked.

“I have an idea where she might be. Come with me.”

I
started the car and looked at him.

“Where, exactly are we going?”

“The Longview.”

“I was afraid you'd say that.” I put the car in gear and we took off.

The hotel was just a few blocks down Main Street, and it came into sight all lit up against the evening sky. I drove into the parking lot behind the hotel, pulled to a stop, and opened the door.

“Wait here,” Matthew told me. “I don't think you should come with me.” I didn't argue, but if he thought I was going to wait in the car, he had another think coming. I stepped out.

“Della,” he said sharply, “this is something I want to do by myself.”

“Fine. You do whatever it is you want to do. I'll watch.” I threw up my hands. “No harm.”

He shook his head in frustration. “You drive me crazy.”

“Oh yeah? Well, it's a short drive,” I said,
grinning. He'd once said this to me, and it gave me tremendous satisfaction to give it back to him.

He walked to the hotel lobby, while I scampered to keep up. By the time I joined him at the front desk, Bunny had one ear pressed to a phone. “There's no answer,” she said, putting the phone down. “Are you sure about this? What if he's in the shower?”

“Knock a couple of times, and if there's still no answer open the door. If he's inside, all you do is apologize and ask him if he wants the turndown service.”

She grimaced. “It'll sound a bit weird, since he's been here for weeks and I've never offered him the turndown service till now.” She disappeared behind a door, reappearing a moment later with a key card in hand. “He'll probably think I'm there to seduce him,” she mumbled as she led the way.

“You don't think—” I started to ask, and then swallowed hard. I'd been worrying about this since Matthew had told me where we were going. “You think Bruce hurt Marnie?” I was near tears.

Ahead of us, Bunny paused at a door and knocked. She waited a second and then slipped in the card and pushed it open. “Management,” she called out. No answer. She stepped aside, letting Matthew in first. She and I followed.

Matthew came to a sharp stop and gasped. As I reached him, the bloody scene came into view just as a sweet, metallic smell hit me. I reeled from the gruesome sight.

Next to me, Bunny shrieked. She looked as if she would faint.

“You ladies get out of here,” Matthew ordered.

“That's okay,” she said, and took a deep breath. “I'm fine. I'll go call the police.” She turned and ran down the hall.

I turned my attention to the body on the floor. I felt faint from relief. It wasn't Marnie. It was Bruce Doherty, lying on his back next to the bed, with a deep and bloody gash along his forehead. Behind him, the wall was splattered with blood. Matthew took a step closer, leaning over him.

“Is he . . .”

“Dead as a doornail,” he said. “Let's get out of here. We don't want to contaminate the crime scene.”

He closed the door, making sure it was locked, and we walked back to the reception area, where Bunny was just putting the phone down. She was still pale, but when she spoke her voice was less shaky.

“The police are on their way.” She brushed a hand through her blond hair. “This is going to be terrible for business. Damn it. First somebody breaks into my hotel and steals my most expensive painting, and then one of the guests gets murdered. How to drive customers away.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a hiccup. “I invested a lot of money in this place. I can't afford it to go under.” She gave us an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry. That was rather callous of me. That
poor man is dead, and meanwhile here I am worrying about my business.”

“It's a normal reaction,” Matthew said.

“Do me a favor,” she said. “Could you ask the cops to be discreet? Maybe they could use the back entrance and keep their cruisers farther away in the parking lot.”

“I'll do what I can,” he said.

He looked around and, spotting a couple of armchairs, he said, “We might as well sit while we wait.”

“Yes, of course. In the meantime, can I get you something to drink?” Bunny asked.

“A glass of water, please,” I said. My mouth had gone bone dry.

“Same here,” he said. Bunny disappeared in the direction of the dining room. As soon as she was out of sight, I leaned over to him.

“You won't tell the police about Marnie, will you?” He took my hand, squeezing it gently. That simple gesture calmed my racing heart. It occurred to me again that lately Matthew had been openly affectionate with me—a shoulder hug here, an arm squeeze there. It wasn't much, but it gave me a warm feeling, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to . . . well . . . like me more.

“I'm sorry, Della. I know she's a friend of yours, but I can't withhold information from the police.”

“What information? You don't know anything. You're only guessing. And I promise you, you're wrong. Marnie would never hurt a soul.”

He gave me a lopsided smile. “Your loyalty to your friends is one of the things I like best about you. But let me point out one thing. The fact that you're asking me not to tell the police about Marnie proves that you jumped to the same conclusion I did.” My eyes watered, and by the time the cop car arrived, tears were running down my cheeks. Next to me, Matthew said, “Damn it, Della. Don't use tears to try to control me. It's not fair.”

I wiped my cheeks with my sleeve. “I'm not trying to make you do anything.”

Two policemen walked in. The first one was Officer Lombard, and the second was her partner, Harrison. She nodded to Matthew, and then took one look at me and raised her eyebrows. “Della? Della Wright? I can't believe it. Are you the one who called in a dead body?”

Bunny returned with the water in time to hear the question. “No, Officer. That was me.” She handed Matthew and me the glasses.

Relief washed over Officer Harrison's face. He took off his cap, brushed his dark hair back, and plopped the cap back on his head. “That would have been quite the coincidence,” he said. “Two bodies in less than a week.”

“Della and Matthew were with me,” Bunny added. “Matthew thought we should check on the deceased because he was worried about his state of mind.”

The officer turned to Matthew. “Did you already suspect he might be dead?”

“No. All I knew was that his fiancée had decided to end their relationship, and I worried he might be taking it badly.”

“Does this deceased have a name?”

“Bruce Doherty,” Bunny said. “He's been a guest at the hotel for about a month and a half.”

The policewoman scribbled the name down and then slipped her notebook back into her shirt pocket. “All rightee, now. Can somebody here direct us to the body?”

“His room is down the hall, second from the end,” Bunny said, looking nervous. “Officer, would you mind taking the back entrance? I would like to deal with all this as discreetly as possible.” She waved vaguely toward the dining room. “You know—the guests.”

“I'll go around with you,” Matthew said, already heading to the door. “Della, you wait for me.”

“No problem.” This was one time I was more than happy not to be included.

“Should I come?” Bunny asked. “I don't have anybody to work reception.”

“We can speak with you later,” the policeman said, and the two officers and Matthew left.

A second later, a group of people walked through the lobby on their way out, and Bunny glanced nervously toward the door. Luckily the officers were already halfway through the parking lot. The guests stopped and congratulated Bunny on the delicious food and the quality of the service.

“Thank you. I hope you come again,” she replied, just as another group walked through. Suddenly, I recognized one of them.

“Melinda? Is that you?”

The beautiful blonde had looked at me, then quickly glanced away, pretending not to see me. Now she feigned surprise.

“Why, Della. Fancy running into you here. I just had dinner in the restaurant. After hearing so many wonderful things about it, I simply had to experience the food.” The rest of the people who were walking through with her, continued out, and I realized that she wasn't part of their group.

“All by yourself?” I asked.

She shrugged. “If a girl waits for invitations, she ends up never going anywhere.” She opened her bag and pulled out a novel. “A good book is all the company I need.”

“I hope you enjoyed the food,” Bunny said.

“Oh, I did. It was wonderful,” she gushed. She dropped the book back in her bag and made a big show of looking at her watch, her eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, it's getting late. I'd better run. I have some baking to do for tomorrow.” And she was off like a shot.

Time went by. No more than ten or so minutes, but each one felt like hours. I startled every time the door opened, only to see more restaurant customers walk by. At long last, Matthew reappeared with Officer Lombard.

“We contacted the coroner,” she told Bunny.
“He should be here momentarily. And don't worry. I told him to take the back entrance. My partner is waiting for him there.” She looked around. “Is there any place private where I can ask you a few questions?”

“My office is in the back. We can go there.”

“That will be perfect.”

“Della, in the meantime, if anybody asks for me, can you tell them I won't be long?” They left the reception area. I waited until they had closed the door. I turned to Matthew.

“Did you find out anything?” I whispered.

“You mean, as in who killed him? I'm afraid not. There was a heavy glass vase on the bedside table, just a few feet away from where he was lying. It had a big crack along one side, and it was smudged with bloody fingerprints. I think that was the murder weapon.”

My heart almost stopped. Bloody fingerprints. I prayed they weren't Marnie's. I hated myself for asking, but I needed to know.

“Did you see anything there that could tie Marnie to the murder?”

“There was one thing. When the police combed the room, they found an engagement ring near the entrance. It was deep in the pile of the carpet. They wouldn't have seen it if Lombard hadn't gotten on her hands and knees and felt around.” My spirits took a nosedive.

“Maybe it wasn't Marnie's,” I said, hearing the desperation in my voice.

“And maybe I'll be elected president of the United States,” he said, giving me an incredulous look.

“What did you tell them?” I asked.

“I couldn't lie. You know that, don't you?” I nodded, and he continued. “I told them everything I'd found out about the man—including his being engaged to Marnie and his using an alias. I also mentioned that I stopped by her place this morning to show her the picture of the real Bruce Doherty and that I advised her to break off her engagement.”

That wasn't so bad,
I thought, exhaling.

“But,” Matthew went on, “I'm afraid I let it slip that he'd talked Marnie into purchasing life insurance with a payout of one million bucks. And as soon as I mentioned that it was a joint life policy, they pounced on it as a possible motive for murder.”

“Oh, no. I completely forgot about that. Now that he's dead, she gets to collect the face amount.”

“Well, that's not guaranteed. Some companies have a waiting period before benefits can begin. I expect they'll be picking Marnie up for questioning.” His eyes sought out mine and he held my gaze. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault. I know how bad it looks for Marnie right now, but even if that ring turns out to be hers, there'll be a logical explanation. You'll see.” He didn't say anything. “You believe she's innocent, don't you?” I insisted.

“Della, I understand how much you want her to be innocent. But we aren't sure of anything right now.”

Before I had a chance to say anything, Bunny stepped out of the office. “Your turn,” she said, waving me in. “Have fun.”

I pulled myself to my feet. Matthew followed suit and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “Don't worry. I'll wait for you.” He gave me a peck on the forehead.

I walked into a tiny room, barely large enough to contain a desk, a file cabinet, and two chairs. Officer Lombard asked me to sit and then spoke. “Could you tell me, in your own words, what you witnessed when you walked into Mr. Doherty's room?”

“Matthew probably saw more than I did. I followed him in and I barely got a glimpse of the body before I left. He was lying on his back near the bed. He had a gash on his forehead, and there was some blood.” I glanced nervously at the pad in which she was writing. “That's all. I didn't notice anything else.”

“Did you see anybody touch anything?”

“You mean Bunny or Matthew? No. Actually, Matthew made a point of making us all leave the room right away so we wouldn't contaminate the crime scene. And he closed and locked the door behind us.”

“How did you know Mr. Doherty was dead?”

“It was pretty obvious. First of all, we knocked
a few times before Bunny unlocked the door. When I saw him, his coloring was so pasty, and the way he lay there, with one arm twisted under him, not to mention all the blood. It was obvious he was dead.”

She took notes. “Is there anything else you think the police should know?”

“I can't think of a thing.”

And that was that. Officer Lombard thanked me and I left. Though I'd been so nervous about being interviewed, the entire thing had taken no more than a few minutes. No more sting than a mosquito bite.

“How was it?” Matthew asked when I returned to the reception area.

“Short and sweet.”

“Listen,” he said, looking at his watch, “it's getting late. How about I let Winston stay over at your place tonight?” I welcomed that idea. Spending the night alone after seeing a dead body was not something I'd been looking forward to.