Never Tell, page 6
But she didn’t turn.
She was so arrogant that she had no fear that someone was behind her. After all, she had not heard the killer come in. She was so infatuated with herself, so obsessed with the possessions she’d accumulated. All she cared about was showing off her trinkets and flaunting her status, even though her entire identity and wealth were rooted in suffering and blood.
An electric thrill raced through the killer’s body. This was the long-awaited moment, the time when the planning would be put to the test.
A weapon was needed. There was the perfect item. A quick detour to the fireplace to grab the poker. And then into the bedroom, moving fast now.
The woman looked up, finally sensing a presence. Too little, too late. Sorry for you, you deserved it, the killer thought, jumping forward to smash her over the head with the iron poker.
Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she slumped in the killer’s arms. The killer dragged her out, ready for the next step—the final, killing step.
The music was blaring as if nothing had happened, as if the woman were still staring out at those expansive, private lawns.
A fireplace poker. A full bathtub. A five-dollar bill. It was payback time. The scene had been set and now the conclusion to this cruel, meaningless life would play out.
The killer’s eyes were cold and hard. There was no mercy in them.
There was no mercy in the killer’s heart either.
CHAPTER NINE
May sat in the passenger seat of Owen’s car as Owen turned off the main road and approached the marble-fronted facade of the Mount Amethyst five-star hotel and golf resort. The hotel was in an exquisitely beautiful, mountainous area that was about twenty miles out of Tamarack County.
“Bert Reed sure does stay in style,” May said, as they drove down the paved driveway, lined with stone pillars twined with vines. “He owns this place?”
“Yes. From the research I’ve done, he’s very wealthy. As in, extremely,” Owen explained. “He owns about five different luxury hotels here in Minnesota, and a few others in New York State. Then he also has interests in a few other businesses, which from the description I think are probably strip clubs. So far, those are only in New York State.”
“Interesting,” May said, filing this away.
The resort itself was a fabulous building of white stone, with ornate columns. The whole complex was surrounded by verdant gardens and manicured lawns, and a golf course stretched beyond the perimeter of the building.
They parked in the main lot and got out. The car lot was filled with expensive vehicles: BMWs, Mercedes, Audis, and a Porsche. Valets in black and white uniforms were polishing the cars. Owen and May parked and walked up the stairway into the hotel lobby. It was a large, beautiful room, with a glass ceiling that let in the sunlight from above.
They headed to the reception desk—a massive marble console on the far side of this exquisite space.
“Good morning. Welcome to the Mount Amethyst Hotel and Golf Resort,” the dark-haired receptionist said, smiling.
“Good morning.” May showed her badge. “We understand Mr. Bert Reed is residing at your hotel. We’d like to speak to him.”
Now the receptionist’s warm smile disappeared and she looked taken aback.
“Mr. Reed? Is he expecting you? He’s got back-to-back meetings here all day.”
“No. It’s in connection with a murder investigation. He’ll know about the murder, as it involves his new hotel. But he’s not aware we’re here now.”
“Oh! Let me call him.”
The receptionist quickly dialed. She spoke in a low voice, paused, listened, and then turned to May and Owen.
“He’ll see you,” she said. She gestured to an elevator on the right-hand side of the reception console. “That goes straight up to the penthouse suite.”
May saw, to her surprise, that a black-uniformed security guard was standing outside the elevator. He checked them out with a suspicious glare as they approached.
“Police,” May said, showing her badge again, and the man glanced over at the receptionist. Only when she nodded did he step reluctantly aside.
When they were in the elevator and riding up, Owen murmured, “It seems like that’s his personal guard? Not the hotel’s guard?”
“Yes, I got that impression too,” May whispered back as the elevator whooshed upward.
When it stopped, the doors opened and a second black-uniformed security guard strode over to meet them. This, May assumed, was more of Bert Reed’s personal security. He needed a lot of security!
What was so threatening to him? she wondered, as the guard led them down a short, wide corridor. When they reached the end, he knocked on a high, white-painted door.
“Come in,” a male voice said.
The guard opened the door and May and Owen stepped into the reception room of the penthouse suite.
The walls were white. The floors were white marble. In the corner of the room was a leather lounge suite and coffee table, and in the center of the room was a circular white conference table. Chairs were arranged around it.
There were three people in the room.
Bert Reed, the hotel tycoon, was sitting at the head of the table. A strong-jawed man in his forties, he occupied the chair with the best view out of the windows onto the gardens and the golf course beyond. May’s gaze was instantly drawn to his perfectly coiffed dark hair, which looked as sleek as if it had been oiled. He was casually dressed in a golf shirt and chinos.
Across from him was a strikingly beautiful woman in her thirties. She was wearing a black business suit with a crisp white shirt.
The third person was yet another security guard, standing to attention against the back wall.
The woman jumped up as they walked in.
“Good afternoon, Officers. Please have a seat. Mr. Reed, of Reed Leisure, welcomes you.”
“Deputy May Moore,” May said politely.
“Deputy Owen Lovell,” Owen introduced himself.
“Afternoon,” Reed said in a brusque, deep voice. “I don’t have a lot of time. As I’m sure you’re aware, this has been a very challenging day for us at Reed Leisure, and I’m in between meetings.”
“I’m Taylor Ashby, Mr. Reed’s personal assistant,” the woman said. “Can I get you some tea?”
May was going to say no, but before she could, Owen said, “Yes, please.”
Immediately May realized that was a good idea, as tea might enable them to stay longer. She had the impression that the clock was already ticking and that their police status meant nothing to Reed’s schedule.
The assistant picked up a phone and spoke quickly into it.
“We’re investigating a murder,” May said. “I’m sure you have heard the very sad news that your architect was found dead this morning?”
Reed’s face showed no reaction, but the beautiful assistant’s slender body jerked visibly.
“It’s tragic,” Reed agreed. “I sincerely hope his killer can be found. Obviously, this has nothing to do with Reed Leisure, and must be a random crime. That’s clearly why we need the hotel development to uplift the area. It’s showing distinctive signs of urban blight. That crime is just one example.”
He stared at them. May thought he looked smug. He certainly didn’t look sad, or shocked, or show any normal reaction.
“Do you know of anyone who might have held a grudge against your architect? Someone who would want to kill him?” she asked.
Reed shook his head.
“No one comes to mind at all. He worked for us in a professional capacity. I have no idea what took place in his private life so perhaps you should focus your investigation on that side. I can’t imagine who would want to do this.”
A young platinum-haired woman in her early twenties, in a black and white uniform, appeared in the doorway with a tray. She carefully set the tray down on the table.
“Your tea, Mr. Reed,” she said softly.
“Well, go ahead. Serve us,” he ordered her impatiently.
The woman turned to May.
“Cream? Sugar?” she asked.
Her voice had a faint hint of Eastern Europe. May thought she looked intensely nervous. Her blue eyes looked scared. Her face was pale and tense.
To be fair, she thought she would also look nervous, having to pour tea for a short-tempered tycoon in this overdone setting.
“Cream and sugar, please,” she said.
The maid poured tea for her, then for Owen, then for the assistant, and finally for Reed.
Then she stood up and left.
Glancing after her, May noted that the security guard standing by the wall took time off from his guarding duties to ogle her in a blatant and unpleasant way. Flushing, the maid looked away and hurried out of the room.
May seethed. She was so furious that she took a deep breath, intending to say something, but before she could get the words out, Reed continued smoothly.
“No doubt you are investigating at full speed in order to give us peace of mind on this matter. Have you come here to provide an update? Or do you need information?” He looked at the Rolex on his left wrist in a meaningful way.
It was time to get to the gist of their visit and May knew that even with the tea served, she’d better ask the questions she needed to, fast.
“We’d like to find out details on your insurance policy,” May said.
“Our insurance policy?” Reed repeated, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes. I was told it pays out in the event that there’s a catastrophe or unforeseen event that prevents construction from proceeding,” May said. “I’d like to confirm if that is true. Will you be putting in a claim now that your architect is dead?”
There was a resounding silence in the room. The beautiful assistant looked shocked.
Reed’s face darkened.
“If you believe I would do that, you are clearly not the caliber of investigators that will be able to solve the case,” he said.
Owen drew in a sharp, angry breath. May did her best not to be offended by this derogatory statement, but rather to look past it and think about why Reed was saying this.
He was attacking. Did that mean he had something to hide?
“Take a good look at me,” Reed said. “I don’t need to kill someone to collect on an insurance policy. I am an extremely wealthy individual and a highly successful businessman. I don’t need to murder anyone for money. I won’t be claiming on the insurance as there’s no need.”
“Of course not,” May said smoothly. “But there was that article that appeared recently which mentioned the hotel would never recoup its value.”
Reed sneered.
“If that journalist has such a good understanding of business, why isn’t she in business herself, instead of writing for a small-town gossip rag?”
“Umm,” May said.
“I’m used to protests,” he said. “I’m used to unfair criticism. I’ve heard it all before. I am building a hotel in a small town. Of course there will be a backlash from less successful people and those who can’t adapt to progress. There’s nothing unusual about that. But even so, I will sue that journalist as soon as I get around to it. For defamation.”
“You think it’s inaccurate?” May asked.
“Not just inaccurate. Totally defamatory. I am a respected businessman. I have a reputation to defend. The article paints me as some sort of incompetent with no knowledge of the market.”
“So you think it’s wrong?”
“Exactly,” Reed said. “She’s basing her article on a one-year projection. Within one year we won’t yet break even. That’s on a five-year plan. In five years we will be profitable. That’s a long-term view of the business. We have a lot more in the pipeline. The second wing of the hotel includes the casino. Small-town folk will love that. It will bring excitement and glamour to their lives and give them hope for better prospects than the mundane, gray existence they lead, scraping out a living in their pointless little villages.”
May heard Owen draw in a sharp breath at this scathing criticism. She had to admit, her hackles were rising too.
“Then we have the conferencing facilities set up so that big-city people can break away to experience the upmarket yet rural charms we will create for them. And then there are the other things we’re working on to make sure the resort is top of mind.”
He smiled. May didn’t think it was a nice expression. She wasn’t sure if the locals would like the other things, or even what they were. She remembered again what Owen had said about the strip clubs. That was the sort of smile it was. The smile of someone who was going to open a totally unsuitable venture in a location where it would be cheap to build, and by doing so, destroy the area.
“I see,” she said, refusing to be sidetracked. “But about this policy. Could you explain it to me?”
Now Reed looked seriously angry.
“I do not need to explain my insurance affairs to you! I have others working on the hotel’s design. Danny Charter is not irreplaceable.”
“I need more clarity on the hotel and the financial situation.” May stood firm as Reed raged.
“I am going to sue you! Do you think you can’t be sued because you’re the cops? I can and will. Do you know who Devonshire, Clark and Bissett are?”
“Yes, I do know them,” May began, but he wasn’t listening to her.
“They’re the biggest law firm in Minnesota and I have them on retainer for all my local issues,” he raged. He glanced around at the guard by the wall. The guard moved a step closer. “Leave! Now!”
The environment was beginning to feel decidedly threatening, May realized. She wasn’t going to leave, though. This was even more reason to stay.
But at that moment, Owen’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at it and then said, “I’d better take this.”
“Take it outside! I’ve had enough of the both of you!”
May stood up.
She wanted to protest and stand her ground, but she was now worried that this call was serious news. There was something in Owen’s face that told her it might be important.
“We’ll step outside. But don’t think for a moment that we won’t come back if we need to,” May warned.
“You won’t get in here again. Police or not!” Reed taunted.
May and Owen hustled out, and as soon as the penthouse door had slammed behind them, Owen took the call.
May saw his face go pale as he spoke briefly. Then he turned to May.
“There’s been another body found,” he whispered. “Killed in a very similar way. This time it’s a woman who was staying at a luxury lodge near Misty Hills. They’ve just called it in. We need to head there immediately.”
CHAPTER TEN
Owen thought it was weird, in this case, how they seemed to be shuttling between a bunch of luxury establishments. What was going on? Why were these wealthy people being targeted? Never had he thought that this peaceful community would ever experience such a level of violent crime. Any murder was terrible. But a killer targeting the wealthy, he knew from experience, would bring a whole new level of panic and blame. This serial killing spree would make news headlines, in all the wrong ways.
What had triggered it? he wondered, confused, as they pulled up outside the magnificent entrance of Rushway River Lodge, slotting in between an ambulance and a coroner’s van who he guessed had probably just arrived.
He felt they didn’t know enough yet, and that they were stumbling around in the dark, but he was sure that May would get to the gist of it.
She was as sharp as a tack. She was pretty. She was super-capable. And above all, she was kind. Owen had seen how she cared for the people who were in need, the ones who couldn’t help themselves, those who needed a hand.
That had already earned her all his admiration. He was proud to have her as his investigation partner. It was because of people like May that he’d chosen to quit the field of accounting and move into law enforcement, where there was more chance of helping people and making a difference. So he thought, anyway.
They hurried inside.
The receptionist immediately rushed over. She was young and well-groomed and looked devastated.
“Are you the police? This is so terrible. Let me take you to the room where it happened.”
“Is the victim a guest here?” Owen asked.
“Yes, she is. A guest who arrived yesterday evening. I have all her details here,” the receptionist said, passing over a sheet of paper. “It’s this way, she’s in the Waterlily Suite. I am so upset. I just can’t believe it’s happened to one of our guests. It seems like someone broke in and attacked her. And then left her in the tub with the water running. That’s how housekeeping was alerted. They saw the water overflowing and went in to see.”
Owen paced down the corridor behind her, feeling unsettled by her words. This was extremely disturbing. Was it another serial case? he wondered. If so, why was this killer targeting wealthy people in upmarket hotel locations?
He glanced back at May. She was as cool as a cucumber, but she was clearly studying the scene ahead.
As they approached the luxury room, Owen saw it was already a hive of activity.
It was large and magnificently appointed. A four-poster bed was the centerpiece of the room. It had huge windows overlooking the forested grounds of the estate. And on the far side of the room, an arched doorway led into a bathroom.
There, Owen saw Andy Baker on site, leaning over the bathtub. Sheriff Jack was standing nearby, watching solemnly and making notes.
They stopped inside the door and put on head covers, foot covers, and gloves.
“It looks as if the killer gained access through the sliding door that was open,” a cop from the Misty Hills department told them. “Maybe the victim left it open. It doesn’t show any sign of being forced.”
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