Reservations For Murder Part 12

"What did I say?" Alex asked innocently.

"It's not what you said, it's what you're going to say when I tell you I'm having dinner with Tom tomorrow night. I'm still not sure how it happened."

Alex smiled at her. "I'm just going to say one thing, then I promise I'll shut up."

Shantara's nose crinkled as she said, "Go ahead. I suppose I deserve it."

"I hope you two have a nice time," Alex said as he walked back to the inn alone.

The phone was ringing as Alex hurried back inside. It was late for anyone who knew him to be calling, but Alex hoped there was word about Marilynn's condition.

It took him a second to realize it was Elise on the other end of the phone as she said, "I was about ready to give up on you. I've tried calling three times already this evening."

"I'm sorry, Elise. I've been away from the desk, and I forgot to put the answering machine on with everything that's been going on around here. How's your father doing?"

"He came out of surgery a few hours ago. Everything went better than they expected. The doctor seems to think he'll be out of here in no time."

The relief in her voice was obvious.

"I'm so happy for you," Alex said.

"So, what's been happening there?" she asked.

For a moment Alex considered postponing telling her about Marilynn Baxter's attempted suicide, but he knew Elise would be furious if she found out he'd been holding back on her.

"Elise, I found Marilynn Baxter in her room today. She'd taken an overdose of something."

"Is she ... dead?"

"The last I heard, she's still unconscious, but I admit I haven't spoken with Doc Drake in a while. It was a good thing he was already out at the fair. I think it might have saved her life."

"It sounds to me like it was a good thing for Marilynn that you were there yourself. How did you happen to find her?"

"I was cleaning the rooms," Alex admitted.

"Oh, Alex, isn't Emma helping you at all?"

He said, "Absolutely. You know how crazy things can get around here, even without a fair. We've had our hands full, what with the Lighthouse Lighting tonight."

"I forgot all about that being tonight. How was it, Alex?"

"It was wonderful. I wish you could have seen it yourself."

"Me, too." Her words were followed by a momentary awkward silence on the line.

Alex filled it by gently asking, "When are you coming back?"

Instead of answering his question, Elise said hurriedly, "Alex, I've got to go. The doctor just came out of the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit, and he's talking to Mom."

Alex said, "Good-bye," but the line was already dead.

He couldn't help wondering if the doctor really had shown up or if Elise had just used it as an excuse to sidestep his question. Like it or not, he was going to have to deal with the possibility that Elise might not be coming back to Hatteras West ever again.

It looked like Alex might have to face the fact that Elise wasn't going to be a part of his life anymore.

Chapter 16.

Late the next morning, Alex had just finished dust-mopping the floor when Mor came in. "Hey, Alex, is Emma around?"

"To be honest with you, I forgot she was supposed to be coming back today. I haven't seen her all morning." He smiled at Mor as he added, "I've just about got the inn clean, so your timing's perfect."

Mor smiled. "That's the best news I've heard all day. I didn't want to spend my day off cleaning rooms with you again, not that it wasn't a real treat before." He pointed to a stack of luggage by the front desk. "What are all those bags doing there?"

"Just about everything there belongs to Craig and Marilynn." He pointed to a single black overnight bag. "That one belonged to Jefferson Lee. I'm dropping it off at the police station for the sheriff."

Mor looked around the lobby, and when he saw it was deserted, he asked, "Where's your resident snoop? Evans isn't actually out in the real world, is he?"

Alex laughed. "You're not going to believe this. He's taking a tour of Europe with Ham Roberts. He's over there right now planning it all."

Mor said, "I've seen everything now. Les isn't going to believe me when I tell him tomorrow." Les was the older part of the partners.h.i.+p of Mor or Les. The two handymen kept most of Elkton Falls running while forming a deep friends.h.i.+p, though neither man would admit it under knifepoint.

Mor nudged Jefferson's bag with his toe. "So what did you find in there? Were there any clues?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alex said as innocently as he could manage. "It's just his clothes and toiletries."

"Don't play that game with me, bucko. I know you're not about to let a perfectly good opportunity to snoop get past you."

Alex shrugged in admission. "For all the good it did me. That man barely made an impression on the room. It was almost as if a ghost had stayed there."

Mor said, "Maybe you've got one around here now. Have you given that any thought?"

"What are you jabbering about, Mor?"

The big man had an odd expression on his face. "You know what they say, Alex. Ghosts hang around after a violent death, and getting skewered is about as violent as it gets."

Alex snorted at his friend's serious tone. "Who knows? Maybe a ghost or two will help business. I can put it in my brochures."

Mor laughed. "Alex, you're an innkeeper through and through, aren't you?"

"It's in my blood. Listen, do you have anything pressing planned for today?"

"No, this is the last place on my list to look for Emma. I'm not sure what to do now."

Alex asked, "How would you like to do me a favor, then?"

"What's the matter, does the septic system need to be cleaned out?"

"No, this is easy. Hang around here a couple of hours by the front desk and answer the telephone for me. My guests are all gone now that the crafters have left, and the next group isn't scheduled until tomorrow, but I'm expecting a call from a travel agent who's promised to book the entire inn for a full week this autumn."

"Why can't you put your answering machine on for that?"

"Because she's not going to want to use Hatteras West if she thinks I'm an absentee innkeeper. Listen, if it's a problem, I'll hang around myself."

Mor picked up a magazine and said, "No, I'll take care of it. I need to have a talk with Emma anyway, and she's as likely to show up here as anywhere I could look."

Alex wasn't about to open that hornet's nest if he could help it. "Thanks, man, you're the best. I'll be back in a few hours."

After Alex loaded all of the luggage in the cab of his old gray Ford pickup, he drove toward town, glancing back at the lighthouse as he went. The structure stood there as a constant, a landmark in his life, always watching over him. Somehow its presence made him feel safe. Too bad it hadn't helped Jefferson Lee or Marilynn Baxter.

Alex's first stop was the hospital. He wanted to check on Marilynn's condition, and the luggage he was carrying would give him the perfect excuse to be there.

He asked a volunteer at the front desk wearing a name tag that said Bob about Marilynn. The man tapped a few keys on the computer and directed him to the Intensive Care Unit.

Alex found Craig Monroe there looking a hundred years older than he had the day before. Was it worry or guilt that had aged him overnight?

"How's she doing?" Alex asked.

Craig looked surprised by his presence, lost in his own thoughts. "No change. Alex, I've been meaning to ask you, what were you doing up in our room, anyway? Not that I'm not grateful," he added hastily.

"I was doing my daily cleaning. When no one answered my knock, I used my pa.s.skey."

Craig pushed. "Alex, did she say anything at all the whole time you were there?"

What an odd question! Alex was just about to answer when he saw Sheriff Armstrong strolling down the hallway. "Hey there, Alex. Got a second?"

"Hang on, Sheriff, I'll be right with you." He turned back to Craig. "I've got your bags with me in my truck. Where would you like them?"

The potter said, "Why don't we head over to my house together, and you can help me carry everything inside."

"Don't you need to be here with your wife?" Alex asked pointedly.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Alex, I still need to talk to you later."

"Not a problem," Alex said as he walked down the hall with Armstrong. There had been an edge and an urgency to Monroe's request that Alex didn't like. He promised himself that if he did have another talk with the potter, he was going to make darn sure it was in a well-lit place with lots of other people around.

Alex asked Armstrong, "Are you here investigating what happened to Marilynn Baxter?"

The sheriff shook his head. "Nope. From what I hear, there's nothing to investigate. She tried to kill herself. Whether she succeeds or not is still up in the air. I had to swing by the hospital to check on a drunk driver from NewCon. Some guy got a snoot full, then decided to go joyriding in Elkton Falls. Why he didn't stay there and be Dave Wooster's headache, I'll never know."

"I don't know how to put this, but I'm not so sure Marilynn Baxter tried to kill herself."

Armstrong grabbed Alex's arm and led him to an alcove nearby. "Alex, do you have any facts to back up that wild talk?"

"Nothing for sure." He hesitated telling the sheriff that his gut reacted strongly to Craig Monroe's att.i.tude about his wife.

The sheriff grimaced. "Alex, don't go spreading this around Elkton Falls. I've got enough trouble on my hands without you adding to it. I understand the lady's been depressed lately. It happens more often than you and I would ever imagine."

"Where did you hear that she was depressed?" Alex asked.

"Why, her husband told me himself. He would know if anybody would, don't you think? After all, he lived with the woman."

Not exactly a reliable source at the moment, Alex thought to himself. Before he could voice his suspicions that Craig Monroe might have had something a little more active to do with his wife's current condition, the sheriff said, "Alex, I've seen that look in your eyes before. Drop this, you hear me? If you want something to do, I'll try to find it for you, but leave this one alone."

Alex decided to change tactics. "Have you had any luck solving Jefferson Lee's murder?"

"I'm close to an arrest; that's all I'll say." The smug look on the sheriff's face was too much for Alex. "I'll grant you this, you were right about the postcard. I'm almost positive it was connected to the murder."

"Come on, Sheriff, you've got to tell me more than that. Who do you think did it?"

"You'll find out when the rest of Elkton Falls does, Alex. I'm not about to say anything and have my suspect get wind of it before I can make my arrest." He held up his hands. "Not that I don't trust you, but these walls have ears, if you know what I mean."

Alex suddenly remembered the blacksmith's bag in his truck. "Sheriff, I've got Jefferson Lee's things from the inn. I was going to run them by your office, but you can get them now, if you'd like."

"I've already been through all of it, Alex." The sheriff scratched his chin, then said, "Tell you what. It couldn't hurt to check them out again, so why don't we walk out together, and I'll have another look. Who knows, there might be something that will help my case."

After the sheriff had gone through Jefferson's bag outside, he said, "I just don't get it, Alex. His house is the same way. You can barely find a personal thing in the whole place. I mean it was creepy. There were no photographs, no collections on display, the man barely made a dent in his own home. I just can't imagine living like that."

"So, what happens now?"

"I'll take this bag over to his house." The sheriff suddenly had a thought. "Hey, you have a few minutes to spare?"

Alex knew he shouldn't impose on Mor any more than he had to, but he was intrigued enough to ask, "What did you have in mind?"

"I thought I'd give you a gander at the man's house and see what you thought yourself. Strictly unofficial, if you follow me."

"Let's go," Alex said eagerly. Maybe he could find something the sheriff and his team had missed.

For once Armstrong hadn't exaggerated. Jefferson Lee had barely made an impression on his living s.p.a.ce. It seemed as if the entire set of furnis.h.i.+ngs had been ordered from one catalogue, perfectly matched and coordinated. All the proper shades of color and tone blended together until there wasn't the slightest personal touch or originality in the whole place. Alex wondered if the man's workshop was the same as the house, and he started to ask the sheriff if he could peek inside the outbuilding as well, when a sudden squawk came from the sheriff's beeper.

Armstrong checked the number, then called his dispatcher on Jefferson's telephone.

"Yeah, you just paged me. What's up?"

There was a pause, then he said, "I'll be right there."

"What happened?" Alex asked as the sheriff hung up the phone.

"There's a wreck out on Highway 127. Some joker with a Jet Ski on his trailer was headed for the lake, and it slipped off the back end. Smacked right into a hea.r.s.e, and now n.o.body can get through. I need to head out there p.r.o.nto. Listen Alex, I hate to do this to you, but can you get back to the hospital on your own? It's a good four miles out of my way, and they need me out there right now."