Cozy Up to Mystery (#8) - paperback

Chapter 1

Asher Reed strode through the main lobby, his shiny shoes landed heavily on the tile floor. The inside of his forearm brushed the little radio clipped to his belt.

Overhead, a crooner belted out “That’s Life” from hidden speakers. Ash adjusted his course to the reception desk by giving a wide berth to the hotel’s fountain, an oddly prominent feature for this establishment.

In the center of the fountain stood a glazed ceramic baby with wings, a trumpet pressed against his lips. Chlorine-treated water sputtered from the instrument’s bell, creating an uneven pitter-patter as droplets hit the pool below. The whole setup gave the unintended impression the cherub was blowing drool.

The fountain had the regrettable ability to attract unsupervised children. Five stood around the feature now, splashing their hands on top of the water and gleefully babbling some adolescent nonsense. Ash usually ignored all kids, a practice he found essential for a happy life. Today was no different, thus he widened his path to avoid them.

In front of the reception desk, a short woman in blue polyester slacks and a bright yellow T-shirt waited. Her silver hair was cut short in an almost military manner. A large red suitcase stood near her leg. Four bungee cords crisscrossed the bag, two along its width, the others encompassed its height.

Behind the registering woman, a line of impatient guests waited. They were dressed in various forms of attire. Several wore T-shirts, many wore jeans, and a couple wore polyester slacks. The majority were women and all but one carried an expression of frustration.

An attractive woman in her late-thirties wore a tight red dress that hugged every curve before stopping mid-thigh. Long blond hair fell to the middle of her back. She spun a large antique magnifying glass in her hand while a bulky art portfolio bag was slung over her shoulder. The woman waved discreetly toward the hotel’s concierge, and he politely returned the gesture.

The desk clerk glanced at Ash, then shifted his attention to his computer. Finley Hester was a slender white man, prone to twitching and nervous giggles. Ash learned this about the clerk while working the past six weeks at Coastal Haven, the most prominent hotel in Marlowe Bay. The small city on the Georgia coast was an hour drive south of Savannah and about the same distance north of Jacksonville, Florida. Guests on the hotel’s east side were treated to a view of the Atlantic Ocean, which was just across the boardwalk.

Finley cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t see a registration.”

“It’s gotta be in there.” The woman in the bright yellow shirt put her hands on the counter and stood on her tiptoes to better see the clerk’s computer. “Estelle,” she said. “Estelle Enderby.” She spelled out her last name.

“I’ve been here many times.”

“I can see you’ve been a guest previously, however, there’s no active reservation.” Finley motioned helplessly toward the computer. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said once again, this time with a panicky chuckle.

“Not sure why you find this funny.” Estelle dropped to her normal height, her chin barely above the counter.

She noticed Ash and stepped back, revealing the words splashed across her shirt—Mystery Mavens. “You must be the muscle.”

Ash ran his hand down his burgundy vest, smoothing it in place. He thought it made a striking statement along with his black slacks and black long-sleeved shirt. “I’m the porter.” Ash reached for her suitcase.

“Nope.” Estelle rolled her bag closer, clutching its handle with both hands. “You don’t look like any bellhop I’ve ever seen.” She considered the ball of fire tattooed on the back of Ash’s hand. “Work release?”

“Ma’am?” Ash asked.

Finley cleared his throat again and followed it with an anxious cough. “We do have one room available, Ms. Enderby.”

Estelle abruptly turned to the clerk. Her hands remained clutched on the suitcase handle, causing it to swirl around her and bang noisily onto the counter. “I’ll take it.”

“It’s a double.”

“I said I’d take it, and don’t even think about up-charging me because of the second bed.”

“No, ma’am.” Finley squeaked, froze momentarily at the sound, then laughed self-consciously. “Don’t know what that was.”

Estelle cast a suspicious glance at Ash. “Still here?”

“It’s my job,” he said.

“Not with my bag.”

Several other guests joined the registration line. A tall, older woman stood at the rear. She wore a yellow T-shirt like Estelle’s, but her silver hair fell to her shoulders.

“It’s the last available room in the whole hotel,” Finley announced, obviously pleased by this discovery. He tapped a button with unnecessary flair. “Today is your lucky day.”

“If I was lucky,” Estelle said with narrowing eyes, “you wouldn’t have lost my reservation.”

“Right. Totally right.” His gaze lowered to her driver’s license, which sat next to his keyboard. “Still in California? How’s the weather this time of year?”

“Enough chitchat.” Estelle impatiently tapped the counter. “Just get me that room. I caught the red eye to get here on time, so I don’t have the energy to deal with this nonsense.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The desk clerk now worked the keyboard with controlled enthusiasm.

Estelle looked over her shoulder at the tall woman in the matching T-shirt at the back of the line. “What took you so long?” she hollered.

“I stopped to talk with—”

“Never mind that.” Estelle held up a hand, cutting off her friend. “They don’t have my registration.”

“What about mine?” the woman called across the lobby.

“Let me check.” Estelle looked at the clerk. “What about Maxine’s?”

“Who?”

“Maxine Coleman.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “My friend.”

Finley smiled at Maxine, then turned back to Estelle. “I’ll verify her registration as soon as we’re done.”

“If you got hers and not mine, we’re gonna have some trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am. Of course.”

Estelle glanced over her shoulder at the growing line of guests waiting to check in. She waved at the woman in the tight red dress who playfully looked back through her square head magnifying glass. Estelle smiled, then faced Finley again. “You need more help.”

The desk clerk’s nervous laugh worsened. It came out in staccato bursts, like giggling gunfire. Ha. Haha. Ha. Beads of sweat formed on the clerk’s forehead. “We’ve had an outbreak.”

“Outbreak?”

The guests standing immediately behind Estelle echoed her one-word question.

Finley grimaced, then smiled apologetically toward the waiting line. “The flu. It’s fine to stay here. Perfectly fine, I promise.” He looked at Estelle. “We sent the affected employees home yesterday.”

“What about the manager?”

“She’s sick, too,” the desk clerk said.

“Who’s in charge?”

Finley stopped typing. “I guess I am.”

“Lord help us,” Estelle muttered. She gestured toward Ash. “What about this one? Can’t he help with the computers?”

“He’s a porter, ma’am.”

“So he said.” She studied Ash. “You look familiar. Where do I know you from?”

“I have one of those faces,” Ash said.

“No, you don’t.” Estelle waggled her finger. “I swear I’ve seen you somewhere. Maybe the post office wall?”

“They don’t do that anymore,” Ash said.

“You answered that quickly. Ever done any modeling?”
Something occurred to Estelle, and she spun toward Finley. She impatiently pointed over the counter at his computer. “Don’t forget my discount.”

The desk clerk lifted his hands from the keyboard. “Discount?”

“For the conference.” She pulled at the edges of her shirt to highlight its text. “We’re here for Mystery Readers of America, only the best biblio-event in the entire world.”

“Yes, of course.” Finley cleared his throat.

“Unfortunately—”

“No,” Estelle said. “Don’t say it.”

“—I can’t give you the room discount.”

“You will. You can bet your bippy on that.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. We give those concessions to early registrants.”

“You owe me the discount.” Estelle stood on her tiptoes again and glared at Finley. “I registered long before the deadline.”

“Well,” the desk clerk said, now waving helplessly at the monitor. “The computer says otherwise.”

Estelle’s face widened with anger. She huffed once, then shook her head in disbelief. “You think I’m lying?”

Finley sputtered, “I’m just saying—”

“The computer is not always right.” Estelle dropped onto her heels and glanced back. She motioned toward her friend. “Maxie! Come up here. This joker thinks I’m lying! He’s not giving me the discount!”

The other waiting guests oohed as they turned to Estelle’s friend.

Finley raised his hands in surrender. “I said nothing of the sort.” He looked down at Estelle. “Please, tell them I didn’t say you were lying.”

Maxine dragged a blue suitcase behind her as she hurried to meet her friend. The plastic wheels clacked across the floor tiles. Maxine waved and smiled at the woman in the red dress as she passed. When she arrived at the front desk, Maxine asked Estelle, “Isn’t it great that Vivienne Hart is this year’s featured speaker?”

“Not now, Maxie. I’ve got a situation brewing. This joker isn’t giving me the discount.”

“What about my reservation?” Maxine asked. “Was it in there? If so, maybe you can get a rollaway bed and stay with me.”

Estelle’s lip curled. “You snore.”

“Me? You snored all the way from California. Sounded like a delivery truck stuck in low gear.”

“Well,” Estelle said, “that’s why we should have our own rooms.” She faced Finley. “Stop what you’re doing and find her reservation.”

“We’re almost done with your check-in,” the clerk said with an uneasy smile. “We should just finish.”

“No.” Estelle jammed her finger repeatedly onto the counter. “Look for my friend’s registration right now. Maxine Coleman. We registered at the same time. If she’s in the system with a discount, you’re going to have a major problem.”

Finley’s left eye twitched.

Maxine stepped forward. “Good afternoon.”

The clerk flashed a practiced smile. “Name?”

“I just told you,” Estelle said. “Pay attention.”

“Yes,” Finley tensed. “Right.” His fingers settled on the keyboard, and he stared blankly at the screen.
Maxine leaned in and slipped her driver’s license across the counter.

Relief flooded the desk clerk’s face. “Thank you.”

“Can you believe this?” Estelle asked.

Maxine eyed her friend. “It happens. Everything will work out fine.”

“Stop with the sunshine, Pollyanna.” Estelle’s gaze shifted to Ash. “What’re you still doing here?”

“I thought your friend might need help.”

“Who are you?” Maxine asked.

“The porter.” Ash ran his hand down his burgundy vest and smiled.

“The? As in, the only one?”

“For today,” Ash said. “We’re shorthanded.”

Estelle harrumphed. “The outbreak.”

“Outbreak?” Maxine’s face contorted with disbelief. “What outbreak?”

“The flu. That’s why these jokers are short-staffed.”

Finley mumbled to himself, “I should never have said ‘outbreak’.” He flashed an apologetic smile at the guests standing behind Estelle. “It’s not an outbreak.”

“That’s a relief,” Maxine said.

Estelle frowned. “This’ll be the worst conference ever.”

“Maybe not.”

“Mark my words, Maxie. Worst. Conference. Ever.”

“You always say that.”

“I do not.”

“Every year,” Maxine said. “Usually during check-in.”

Estelle’s expression pickled. “I call it like I see it.”

“When it’s over, you always say it was the best conference ever.”

“Not this year.”

“I don’t care what you say, I’m going to have fun.”

Maxine nodded once. “I can’t wait for tomorrow’s murder mystery.”

“We better win this year,” Estelle said. “I’m tired of losing.”

“We’ll win. Have faith.” Maxine looked back at the woman wearing the tight red dress. “Maybe we should ask Vivienne Hart to join our team. She’s so smart.”

“The others will accuse us of bringing on a ringer.”
Estelle looked surreptitiously over her shoulder. “Besides, the authors never take part in the murder mystery. They’re always too busy to have fun.”

Ash glanced at the woman in the red dress, the one he assumed was Vivienne Hart. She cocked her head as she studied Ash, a bemused look on her face. Vivienne lifted the large magnifying glass and peered through it. Her head titled and her mouth slowly opened. Ash dismissed her peculiarities since he imagined most artists were that way. How else could they come up with so many stories? He turned away from her.

“Any word about Saturday’s auction?” Estelle asked.

Maxine shrugged. “No one else knows anything about the final offering. Wonder why they’re keeping it a secret.”

“Probably because it’s going to be a big letdown.”
Maxine rolled her eyes. “You’re acting like Eeyore.”

“Realism isn’t pessimism.”

“Says you.” Maxine pushed her blue suitcase toward Ash.

“What’re you doing?” Estelle asked.

“He’s a porter. They take our bags up to our room.”

Estelle grabbed Maxine’s elbow and pulled her down so they could have a private conversation. “Doesn’t he look familiar?” It was supposed to be a whisper, much the way a dog barking in a junkyard is meant to be a friendly greeting.

“Now that you say it.” Maxine squinted. “Who does he remind us of?”

“I don’t know, and it’s bugging me. I was thinking maybe we saw him on an episode of Cops or something.”

Estelle’s lip curled. “Then I thought he might have been a model. I don’t know.”

“A model?” Maxine’s eyes widened, and she glanced over her shoulder. She pointed at the author in the red dress. “What about Vivienne’s new—?”

Estelle tugged on her friend’s arm. “Until we figure it out, don’t let him touch your bags.”

“Okay,” Maxine said, “but I’m thinking he’s—”

“Uh,” Finley interrupted.

“Use your words,” Estelle snapped. She stood on her tiptoes again. “You don’t have Maxie’s reservation, either.”

Finley clasped his hands together. “This never happens.”

“It’s happened twice.” Estelle slapped the counter two times—bang, bang.

Maxine touched her friend’s arm. “Maybe Phyllis forgot to send in our forms.”

Estelle settled back on her heels. “I bet you’re right. Is she here yet?”

“I thought so. Didn’t she arrive yesterday?”

“Already got her room, I bet.” Estelle glanced around. Not finding what she was looking for, she eyed Maxine. “We should get Phyllis down here to clear up this mess.”

“Don’t despair.” Finley smiled at Maxine. “We’ve got one room available.”

“I’ll take it,” Maxine said. To Estelle, she added, “See? I told you everything would work out.”

“Wait.” Estelle studied the desk clerk. “Are you giving her the room you promised me?”

“You passed on it.”

“I did no such thing.”

Finley’s left eye twitched worse than before. “You didn’t complete the check-in, Ms. Enderby.”

Estelle huffed. “You’re not suggesting we share a room?”

“No,” Finley said. “Not at all.”

“That’s good.” Estelle nodded, pleased with herself.

“Because it’s Ms. Coleman’s room now.”

Maxine’s eyes filled with delight. “You are such a wonderful young man.”

“Hey.” Estelle tapped her friend on the arm. “That’s my room.”

“He said you passed on it.”

“Think about it, Maxie. Why would I give up my room?”

“You make a lot of choices I don’t understand.”

Estelle pointed at Finley. “I wanted him to check your reservation, so I’d get the discount, too.”

The clerk’s eye twitching sped up, and a panicky titter squeaked out. “Discounts are for early registrants.”

“Okay, fine,” Maxine said. “What should we do about it?”

“Share it, I suppose.” Estelle chopped the air with her hand. “Fifty/fifty. Right down the line.”

“You said I snore.”

“Probably won’t hear it over my own.”

“You got that right.” Maxine held out her hand. “So be it. We’ll split the room. That’s like a fifty percent discount.”

The two women shook on their agreement.

“Excellent,” Finley said. “I’ll put both your names on the account.” His fingers ran wildly about the keyboard.
“Whose credit card will this be on?”

Estelle thumbed at Maxine. “Hers.”

“Mine?”

“I’ll pay you back.”

Maxine sighed. “You still owe me for breakfast and the cab.”

“I’m good for it.”

“Since you’re going to the same room,” Ash said as he reached for Estelle’s bag, “I’ll take yours as well.”

She smacked his hand. “Not today, you won’t.”