Part 4 (2/2)
Breakfast was served from seven to ten every morning, but Ted always keeps free coffee, juice, mineral water, and m.u.f.fins available for the guests all day long. That's just the kind of guy he is.
”It's awful,” he said, pulling his chair close to me. ”I still can't believe it happened right upstairs,” he added, shaking his head. ”I've been fielding questions from reporters all morning, and we've already had a few guests cancel their reservations.”
”Really?” I kept my tone neutral, but my pulse skittered.
”It's very upsetting for them, you know. To think that someone died under suspicious circ.u.mstances, right here at the Seabreeze. I tried to rea.s.sure them, but what could I say? No one really knows what happened to Guru Sanjay. I guess they're considering the possibility of foul play, but they're not giving out much information. His team is going ahead with the conference, but they're all pretty sh.e.l.l-shocked. They're upstairs right now in the Magnolia Ballroom. A pretty good turnout.”
”Is that so? I'm surprised they didn't just cancel it.” So Team Sanjay was still here. In the Magnolia Ballroom. That gave me an idea. I could start my investigation immediately.
”Miriam Dobosh--she seems to be in charge now--said it's what the guru would have wanted. They're going to head back to South Beach to arrange for the funeral right after the closing ceremony tomorrow morning. Of course, there's always the possibility they'll have to return to Cypress Grove for questioning. I guess it all depends on what the police decide to do. They haven't even released the body yet.”
”I'm sure it's very unsettling for everyone,” I said demurely, wondering how I could find out what else he knew. He'd mentioned suspicious circ.u.mstances and foul play. Was that an educated guess, or had he heard something? I needed to find out exactly what he knew--fast.
”Of course, he could have died from natural causes,” he said, breaking into my thoughts.
”Oh, absolutely.” I smiled brightly at him, hoping he would say more.
”I heard your interview with him yesterday,” he said, resting his hand lightly on mine. ”You did an excellent job, as usual. It made me want to run out and buy his book, and I'm usually not into that self-help stuff.” He gave a little self-deprecating smile.
I nodded. Ted listens to my show every single day. Just like my mother, I thought wearily, and then realized that Freud would have a field day with that one.
”I'm not into all that cosmic stuff, either,” I admitted, slathering a blueberry m.u.f.fin with honey b.u.t.ter. I'm into calories and cholesterol, I thought, resisting the urge to slide a cheese Danish onto my plate. And those tiny banana-nut minim.u.f.fins at the Seabreeze--they're the best. I poured two Splendas into my coffee to even out the calorie count.
”I suppose it was very hard for you to get the news,” he went on. ”You know, I've been worried about you, Maggie. I'm glad you stopped by today. I was going to call and see how you were doing.” (See what I mean? He's not only kind and good-looking; he's sensitive and worried about my feelings. Maybe I aminsane not to take our relations.h.i.+p to the next level!) I nodded, trying to look properly somber. ”It was certainly a shock.” I toyed with my teaspoon, wondering how to broach the subject. ”Do the police have any leads?” I asked innocently.
”I'm not sure,” Ted said, his tone grave. ”They were here late last night interviewing the staff, and the lead detective was back again this morning. He's sort of an annoying guy,” he said, his face clouding.
”Really?” My heart rate bounced up a notch. Annoying, irritating, and impossibly s.e.xy.
”Yeah.” His blue eyes glinted and his smile was sardonic. ”He came on pretty strong and tried to steamroll his way over everyone. I guess he was only doing his job, but I'm not looking forward to seeing him again. And I have the feeling he'll be back.”
”Detective Martino?” I blurted out without thinking.
Ted looked surprised. ”Yes, how did you know?”
”I think I may have heard his name mentioned at the station,” I said glibly, not wanting to explain the early-morning visit. ”You know, Big Jim Wilc.o.x usually covers the crime beat. But he was tied up this morning, and I think I saw Martino's name on a news report Jim had filed.”
”Well, he certainly grilled Carmela, who was working the front desk last night.” Ted frowned. ”She's not completely fluent in English, and I think she was intimidated by him. If I'd been thinking straight, I would have insisted on having an interpreter there for her. He can be something of a bully, and I don't appreciate him manhandling my staff.”
”He can have that effect on people.” I allowed myself a small, derisive snort.
”So you know him?”
”No, of course not. But that's what I've heard. You know, around the station,” I said, backpedaling quickly as Ted's eyebrows shot up. ”So, what did she tell him?”
”He wouldn't let anyone sit in on the interview,” Ted said morosely. ”But I know that Carmela told him a young woman visited the guru in his room last night. Someone slim and blond who was carrying a big tote bag. I guess it was a purse, but Carmela said it was so big, she thought it might be an overnight bag.”
Lark and her yellow Coach bag! That clinched it. Lark was at the Seabreeze, but when? And why? She hadn't paid a surprise visit to her idol, had she? My thoughts were scrambling like a gerbil on steroids. But Carmela must have been mistaken. Maybe Lark had just left a note for the guru at the front desk, I decided. There was no way she would go up to his room, was there?
”Did Carmela know the girl's name?” I asked, trying to keep my voice bland.
”I don't think so, but I know that Martino took down a description and Carmela said she's seen her in the neighborhood. Very slim, s.h.a.ggy short blond hair, about five-two. Funny, but if I didn't know better, I'd say she could be Lark's twin.”
Lark's twin. My spirits sank like a stone, but I managed a wan smile. ”Hey, wouldn't that be something?” I said, joining in the fun. ”Maybe Lark has a long-lost twin who has a thing for gurus, but I guess that only happens in detective novels.” I bit back a nervous laugh that ended in an embarra.s.sing squeak.
”I guess,” Ted said, looking puzzled.
”So,” I said, clearing my throat, ”it sounds like Martino may have a lead. But did anyone else visit the guru last night? Did Carmela mention any other suspects? I mean guests?” I corrected myself quickly.
”Carmela didn't see anyone else.”
I glanced out into the lobby. ”Yes, but someone could have slipped by the front desk if things were busy. See how easy it would be? All they had to do was follow that hallway toward the garden, and then they could take the back stairs and walk right up to his room.”
”I guess it's possible.”
”Or maybe it was someone in the guru's own party; you know, one of his staff members. He could have had some sort of confrontation with him, and maybe he accidentally killed him.” I paused, thinking it over. ”I bet lots of people had access to his room. He was on the second floor, right?”
”How did you know that?”
”Well, he told me he hated elevators. He said he refused to use one. We were talking about claustrophobia during the commercial break yesterday, and I just couldn't picture him hoofing it up several flights of stairs. So I figured he'd ask you for a room on the lowest floor.”
”Maggie Walsh, ace detective,” Ted teased me. ”You know, you sound like you're conducting a homicide investigation. For all I know, you could be working undercover as Martino's partner.”
”No chance of that.”
He grinned and gave me a searching look while I busied myself pouring more coffee for us. ”Is there something you're not telling me, Maggie? You're not here on a.s.signment, are you? Covering the story for WYME?”
”Oh, no, nothing like that,” I rushed on. ”It's just that . . . well, you know, I interviewed Guru Sanjay, and I feel terrible that he died. Or was murdered. Right here. In this hotel.”
I felt my face flus.h.i.+ng, and I could feel a trickle of flop sweat crawling down my spine. I knew I had said too much. Was Ted suspicious? My mental 8-Ball said: ”Signs point to no.” He was slipping his arm around me, big-brother style.
”Hey, Maggie, honey, you can't let this get to you.” He pulled me close to him for a moment, his voice warm with concern. ”Just let the police do their job, and it will all come out right in the end, you'll see. They'll find out who killed Guru Sanjay.”
Manuel, the busboy, suddenly materialized next to us. ”Senor Rollins,” he said softly. He pointed to the front desk, where Carmela was pantomiming that Ted had to take an important phone call.
”Oops, that's a call from Corporate I've been expecting. I've got to skedaddle.” He smiled into my eyes before sliding back his chair and standing up. ”I don't want you worrying over this anymore, Maggie. The police will get to the bottom of it; they're the professionals, you know.”
”I know.”
He playfully touched the end of my nose, his deeply tanned face breaking into a wide grin. ”So I want you to promise me you won't give it another thought.”
”I promise.” I fake-smiled back at him and for the first time in my life raised three fingers in the Girl Scout sign, even though the closest I've ever gotten to the world of Scouting is scarfing down an entire box of Samoas at one sitting.
Somehow I knew he would like the three-finger salute, though, and sure enough, he gave me a big thumbs-up. I made a show of leaning back and reaching for that luscious cheese Danish, the one that had been sitting on the plate all that time, calling my name. I did it just to show Ted how relaxed and worry free I was (even if mildly carbohydrate addicted and maybe even insulin resistant).
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