CHAPTER FIVE

 

Even as Finn gathered more information, he kept an eye on Zoey across the lobby and noted when an older and decidedly sinister woman joined her. Like most of Oyster Cove’s witches, Esmeralda had gotten wind of the fact that pieces of Lilith Hazelwood had been transplanted in a multitude of commoners. But this was her first encounter with one of the transplant heirs.

“Dibs on room 206. I’ve been waiting forever for it to become vacant. It’s got a much better view than mine. Well, all good things come to she who waits.” She cackled heartlessly. “You’re rather interesting, aren’t you? If you had any more of Lilith Hazelwood in you, my hair would positively stand on end.”

Zoey’s mouth dropped open. “You know. Does that mean that you’re a . . . ”

“A very talented woman? Why, yes, I am. In fact, if I’m in a charitable mood, I may just take you under my wing.”

“That’s very generous.”

“My first bit of advice is to stay away from Fiona and Zelda. They are much like Ms. Hazelwood and may follow in her footsteps if they don’t take care.”

Zoey wondered what that could possibly mean.

Lilith was pretty sure she knew. What else could it be but a thinly veiled confession? Esmeralda had just leapt to the top of a very short list of suspects in Lilith’s own demise. And what was her intention in recruiting Zoey? She was going to have to speak to Delphine immediately to warn Zoey to be on her guard from Esmeralda’s influence.

Esmeralda was getting bored. If they weren’t going to bring the body down, she might as well get some breakfast. She promised Zoey that they would meet again. Or was it a threat?

As officer Cochran continued to make his rounds, Zoey remembered that it was time for her brunch date with Susan Sidwell. She was hoping that she could just run over to the restaurant, explain that the event would have to be postponed, and be back in her seat before Finn even noticed. No such luck.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m supposed to have brunch in the hotel restaurant with Susan Sidwell, and I didn’t want her to think that I was just blowing her off.”

“Yeah? I was going to meet George Clooney myself for coffee, but he can be a little full of himself, so I decided to blow him off.”

“I’m serious.”

Finn raised an impressed eyebrow. “Well, I’m very sorry that this murder has inconvenienced your brunch plans. Marty! Get over here. Marty, could you go into the restaurant, locate Susan Sidwell, and tell her that Zoey Proctor has been detained and will not be able to join her for brunch?”

Marty beamed with excitement. “Susan Sidwell! Heck, yeah, I can deliver that message. Maybe she’ll let me take a selfie. My wife’s a big fan.”

Marty darted away. Finn turned back to Zoey. “You’re staying close to me. Do not move until I say move. Mr. Frost. You’re the man I need to speak with. Please have a seat.”

Zoey was close enough to hear the conversation.

“First, where are the security cameras?”

“There aren’t any.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Mr. Churchill had to weigh the merits of privacy versus security. And in the end, he decided that our guests’ privacy overrode all other considerations. It was a rather unconventional decision, certainly. But there you are. There are no cameras.”

Finn sighed. “Who found the body?”

“This young lady here was the first to identify the crisis situation—the ammonia and bleach outside 206.” Frost gestured in Zoey’s direction. “We’re most grateful for her assistance.”

“I’ll bet. Okay, I want to talk to all the staff, and probably a few of the guests as well.”

“Of course. I only ask that you please try not to disrupt the operations of the hotel any more than they already have been. Hopefully, the lobby will be restored to normalcy in the next hour or so?” Frost asked hopefully.

“That would be nice. Now back to the ammonia and bleach. That sounds like something I need to talk to your housekeeper about. Geez. Who knew those things were so lethal together?”

“I thought it was common knowledge, sir,” Frost said.

Zoey tried to hide a smile. Apparently, officer Cochran hadn’t done a whole lot of housecleaning in his life. Everyone knows about ammonia and bleach.

“If only . . . well, the timing was striking and most unfortunate.”

“What do you mean?” Finn asked.

“Well, that room used to belong to one of our long-term guests, a Mr. Dalton Spitz. It was a two-bedroom suite. But yesterday, just after dinner time, Mr. Spitz moved out of the room and Mr. Churchill moved in.”

“Why did Spitz move out of the room?”

“He no longer had his daughter with him and no longer required such a large space. Or that was my understanding.”

“Please have Mr. Spitz join me.”

“Certainly,” Mr. Frost said, happy to get off the hook.

Dalton and Zoey exchanged hostile glances as he settled down beside Finn Cochran.

“Mr. Spitz. I’m officer Cochran, and I have a few questions for you. Let’s start with what you do for a living.”

Dalton cleared his throat. “I’m a consultant. Marketing consultant. Internet. Branding. You know, digital revolution . . .” he said, his voice trailing off.

Finn wasn’t buying it. “I would love to hear more about that. I’ve been contemplating a career change from law enforcement to digital revolutionary.”

Dalton smiled weakly.

Finn continued. “I see that you’re living on the same floor as Mr. Churchill. Where were you last night?”

“Moving into my new room. Watching the Red Sox.”

“Yeah, what was the score?”

“Oh, I don’t remember the exact score.”

“Do you remember who won?”

“Of course, he doesn’t,” Zoey said scornfully. “He hates baseball. He’s always said it was boring. You’ve never sat down for a game in your life.”

Dalton scowled at her. “Cops like baseball. I was just trying to be sociable.”

Finn deadpanned, “Oh, much appreciated. Maybe after this is over, you can go up and pick me up a bag of doughnuts. So, what was your relationship with Franklin Churchill?”

“We had a lot in common. You know, because we’re both entrepreneurs. There was a lot of mutual respect.”

“He took your room. How did that come about?”

“Oh, my daughter moved out. Temporarily. So I didn’t need such a large room. I mean, why pay for more room than you need?”

“Was that the only reason?”

“Sure. Why? Did you think there was some other reason?”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Spitz. Could you please tell Mr. Frost that I’m ready for the housekeeper?”

“Yeah, great. Fine. Bye.”

As Dalton hurried away, Finn examined Zoey closely. “Lucky guy. If he had moved one day later, things could have turned out very differently.”

“What? How? Someone killed Franklin Churchill.”

“But was Churchill the intended victim? Or did the killer think that Mr. Slick was still in the room?”

“Who would want to kill Dalton?” But Zooey could see the answer in Finn’s eyes.

“I hope you don’t . . . you can’t possibly . . . I didn’t kill this man. I didn’t kill anyone. I wouldn’t. Not even Dalton.”

“When was last time you talked to Mr. Spitz?

“Yesterday afternoon.”

“In room 206?”

“Yes, he was still there. I guess he didn’t move until after dinner.”

“And you didn’t know he was going to move?”

“No. It didn’t really come up.”

“What exactly did come up?”

“I said I would be willing to drop assault charges if he’d agree to joint custody of Camille.”

“Mighty generous to a man who tried to kill you.”

Zoey grimaced. “He caught me by surprise. I wasn’t going to let that happen again.”

Her words and the fierceness in her voice raised Finn’s suspicions. He gestured at her purse. “Could I have a look at that, please?”

Zoey handed it over reluctantly, and Finn opened it and pulled out a sharp sheathed knife.

“After what happened, I needed the protection,” Zoey said defensively.

“Ms. Proctor. How do you disturb me? Let me count the ways. I think I’m going to hang on to this.”

Maybe Zoey had the right to protest, but it was probably for the best. Dalton certainly knew how to test her rage. The housekeeper, Caitlin Murdoch, appeared in front of them. She was a slightly plump woman in her late thirties, dressed in a loose, shapeless housekeeping uniform.

“Ms. Murdoch. Please have a seat,” Finn said.

“I hope this won’t take long. I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Most important meal of the day.”

“Yes. Especially for . . . such a difficult day.”

“Yes, a difficult day. A sad day. What was your relationship with Franklin Churchill?”

“Well, he was the big boss. He’s a really important man. I just clean the rooms. Which is a very important part of service, of course. But I’m just a nobody, really. He would say hello to me, that’s all. King Arthur was the one who ordered me around.”

“Arthur Frost. Do you and he get along?”

“I won’t lie to you. Sometimes, the man has a stick up his you know what. But he cares about this place, and someone’s got to. Especially this past week, with the movie star and all of her people. All their special requests. Clean this. Clean that. The next day, clean this. Why didn’t they mention it yesterday? They’ve got me running up and down like a windup toy.”

“In all this running up and down, did a bottle of bleach and a bottle of ammonia go missing?”

“I think so. But I didn’t notice it until after I found out about Mr. Churchill. Bleach and ammonia. I carry around every possible cleaning product on my cart, and most of it gets left out in the hallway while I’m inside the room cleaning. But those are two that I don’t use very often. I never thought that anyone would touch them except me. And of course, I would never use them together.”

“So . . . bleach and ammonia. Everyone knows that’s a bad combo?”

“Of course. Everyone knows that.”

“We do now,” Finn conceded. “So, you leave the cleaning cart out in the hall, and you go in to clean each room for . . . how long?”

“Change the bed. Clean the bathroom. Empty the garbage. Fifteen minutes. An extra ten if I have to scrub out the tub.”

“So, anyone passing through the hallway could have swiped those bottles.”

“Anyone. But of course, it couldn’t have been just anyone, could it? It had to be someone who hated Mr. Churchill.”

“And who might have hated him?”

“He did have an ex-girlfriend. They broke up over a year ago. But before then, she practically lived here at the hotel with him. Whitney was her name, I recall. Whitney Blair. They parted on pretty nasty terms.”

Finn added that name to his notes. A cute, impish young woman, about thirty years old, came and stood in front of him.

“Officer Cochran, please stop harassing the employees,” she said teasingly.

“Hey, Sis. You taking off?”

“Yes, and Caitlin usually joins me for breakfast. Are you done with her?”

“I suppose so. Glad to see that your boss’s misfortune hasn’t ruined anyone’s appetite.”

“It is pretty horrible. And sad. And yet, I’m starving. You could join us if you’re finished.”

“Far from it, but thanks.” Finn noticed Zoey’s curiosity. “Zoey Proctor, this is my sister-in-law, Bette Bailey. She’s the night manager here. And by the way, I’m going to have a few questions for you later, as well.”

A scruffy young man holding a camera walked nearby, and Bette called out to him.

“Mr. Wyatt. Are you still here? When do you ever sleep?”

“The press never sleeps,” he responded in mock righteousness.

“He’s Susan Sidwell’s paparazzi. Is paparazzi plural or can he be a paparazzi all by himself? Anyway, he has been taking photos of everyone and everything for a whole week. He practically lives in this lobby.”

“Photos of everyone?”

“Everyone. Even the non-celebrities. Everyone who walked through this lobby. Although he’s pretty unobtrusive, I’ll give him that. He’s here every night till like two o’clock in the morning. And he’s the first one up every morning. Mr. Churchill thought he was a nuisance, but Ms. Sidwell said to let him stay. She actually likes the publicity.”

“I may have just found my security camera,” Finn said thoughtfully. “Yeah. I would very much like to see all of that young man’s photos. Especially anything he took in this hotel. You mind getting him back here for me?”

“No problem.” Bette helped Caitlin to her feet, and the two of them headed away.

“And there should be a time stamp on every photo. Sweet.”

“You think those pictures will help you find the killer?” Zoey asked hopefully.

“I think those pictures will probably confirm what I already know,” Finn said ominously.

Zoey bristled. How could he honestly still be thinking that she was the killer?

“Zoey. How on earth did you get caught up in all this mess? You’re not even staying at the hotel.” It was Susan Sidwell, with her entourage standing several feet behind her. Ajax gave Zoey a little wave and a big smile.

“Don’t worry about brunch. But we’ve rented a yacht for tomorrow morning. Say you’ll come with us.”

“Sure. Sounds nice.”

“And who is your handsome friend here?”

“Officer Finn Cochran, ma’am. A real pleasure to meet you. My wife and I watched a couple of your movies just a few weeks ago. She’s a big fan of yours, and she would never forgive me if I didn’t . . . do you mind?”

Finn whipped out his camera phone, and Susan enthusiastically mugged for a few selfies.

“Thank you so much. She’ll get a big kick out of that.”

Zoey pouted. How come Finn was nice to everyone but her? Because she was an ex-con. And so far, she was his primary suspect. Clearly, she was going to have to take it upon herself to open his eyes to other possibilities.