Positively Morbid, page 6
She should be happy. Time to recover. Time to center herself before Jess intruded into her life. But the weekend stretched in front of her like a void, filled with unseen threats. If Jess didn’t conveniently become lost or change his mind about stopping by, if the cops examined the background of random people at the hotel, if ambushes from the past were around every corner…
“Marta?” Parker asked.
“What?” She was already looking at her monitor.
“Does housekeeping sometimes leave extra flowers in the staff suites?”
Marta frowned and gave Parker a funny look. “I wouldn’t think so. We’re not made of money, you know. Christ, I have no idea what this murder is going to do to our bookings…” She trailed off, fingers twitching on her keyboard, a line deepening between her eyes.
“Right. Silly question,” Parker said, and waited ten more seconds to see if Marta would say anything else. Belatedly remembering that she was supposed to embody wellness and peace of spirit, to her boss more than anyone, Parker attempted to come up with a piece of wisdom that would cover murder, the loss of thousands of dollars in revenue, and parenting stress.
No calming aphorism came to her lips, so she retreated instead. Thank God for Mouse; without her Parker would be entirely unmoored, but since she still had to feed the dog, water her, take her outside, and keep her company, Parker had at least some structure. Today could be a good time to get away from the beach and try hiking inland. They could drive to Cape Perpetua, hike through the forest.
As she drew closer to her room, her steps slowed and her stomach tightened. Despite what Marta had said, housekeeping must have left the flowers. And she hadn’t sounded certain, just disgusted. Maybe housekeeping went rogue sometimes.
Making up her mind, Parker retraced her steps and headed to the basement office that was housekeeping headquarters, trying to remember the name of the guy in charge. She’d met him a couple of times: in the blur of unfamiliar names and faces at the meet and greet when she first arrived, and at a baby shower for one of the nutritionists a couple weeks ago. Both times, he’d been wearing a wireless earbud which flashed a tiny blue light, which made Parker wonder if housekeeping in this place was really so urgent and stressful that he needed minute by minute updates, like air traffic controllers or the Secret Service. At the time, it struck her as pretentious, but for all she knew, he could have been listening to a football game or studying for the bar exam. She still couldn’t recall his name, though.
The office was in a warren of rooms in a part of the basement which reminded her of high school, because of the painted cinderblock walls plastered with public service announcements: employee info about minimum wage laws and family leave, and an Employee of the Month display that showed that Rita P., Cleaner III, had demonstrated “Extraordinary Diligence” in September. A woman with graying red hair smiled brightly from the frame, holding up a fifty-dollar gift certificate.
The corridor was empty, but as Parker approached, the door to housekeeping opened and the balding ear-budded manager strode out, brushing past. He was stout and short, only reaching Parker’s shoulder, and she could glance down at the top of his head like a giantess. Just in time, she spotted his name on a little plate next to the door. Kim Hesp. Just as she said, “Excuse me, Mr. Hesp?” the name clicked, and she remembered Krista had called him a creep. Unless there was another Kim.
He turned, tapping at his earbud. “Yeah? That’s me.”
“I’m Parker James. We met a couple of times. I’m the new Meditation Guide.”
He nodded slowly. “Sure, sure.”
“I have a quick question for you, if that’s okay.”
He glanced down the corridor. “I was just heading off for a break—”
“Seriously quick. Like, one sentence.” She smiled her best charming smile.
“Okay, shoot.”
“Do you guys, I mean, does housekeeping put flowers in the staff apartments?”
He raised his eyebrows like she might be making a joke, the punch line yet to come. “You want us to put flowers in your room? What, like weekly?”
She flushed, feeling accused of something. Thinking she was at the Ritz? “No! Not at all. I found flowers in my room, and I was wondering if housekeeping put them there.”
He shook his head. “You mean, someone sent you a bouquet, you’re not sure who delivered them? What, like, housekeeping found them in your doorway and put them inside? Sure, yeah, maybe. I can see that. That a problem?”
She grimaced. “I wasn’t thinking it was a delivery. No note, no card, no plastic wrap. It was in the bedroom, on my dresser. I thought it could be an extra decoration from the wedding…?” She trailed off, as he was already shaking his head.
“Never happen,” he said, smiling, his finger poised to tap at his earbud again. “Nah. All that stuff costs money. The clients pay for everything, and the boss lady watches the bottom line like a hawk. No extras. Sorry.”
“But—”
“Listen, I really gotta go,” he said, already moving down the hall. “Let me know if you have any more questions.” He waved a hand perfunctorily, pushed through a swinging door on the left, and disappeared. Parker started to follow but was stopped by the sign on the door: Restroom.
She stood in the corridor, biting her lip, wondering whether to wait and try again. He’d been in a hurry and very dismissive. And he was talking about rules, not reality. She could see Marta being obsessive about ordering and using just exactly what the guests paid for, but surely there were margins of error. Accidental overages that weren’t returnable or re-usable, like dried flowers that would fall apart when they got too old.
Parker realized she was answering her own question. The only person who would really know whether the cleaner had put some extra flowers in her room, and why, was the cleaner. Parker should wait and leave a note next Friday, like she’d planned.
Reluctantly, she headed for the stairs.
****
Parker trudged to her rooms and greeted Mouse, who was waiting at the door and seemed her usual self. Even though no one could hide in the suite without disturbing her, Parker checked every space where someone could fit. In the small apartment, it came down to the coat closet—barely large enough for an ironing board—the bedroom closet, or crammed under the kitchen sink, assuming the intruder was a small child. The bed was a platform bed, so on second thought she heaved up the mattress to see if someone could hide inside, but all the pieces were secured tightly together.
“Okay, Mouse, what do you think is going on?” Parker said, settling on the loveseat and giving the dog a serious look. Mouse sighed and rested her head between her paws. She’d observed the entire process with an air of perplexity and now reclined near the balcony, monitoring the seagulls. It was only ten in the morning and Parker wanted to go back to bed. She texted Krista instead.
—Are you busy?—
Krista—Just heading out to meet friends for coffee. what’s up?—
Parker—Is it nice there—?
Krista—Bright sunshiny day :)—
Parker—Here too—
Krista—What’s up?—
Parker hesitated.
—Trying to decide whether to tell police something—
Krista—About the murder?—
Parker—Maybe? Someone left something in my room—
Krista—Sounds mysterious. When? What? Why?—
Parker hesitated again.
Krista—???—
Parker—Did you ever get flowers in your room?—
Krista—Sometimes. That guy Tom was big on flowers—
Parker—Not a delivery. Just, in your room—
Krista—Not unless I put them there. I don’t get what you mean—
Parker—Someone left a vase on my dresser. No card, no note, no wrapping.—
Krista—A decoration? Housekeeping?—
Parker—They were crumbly and old. And lavender—
Krista—You hate lavender!—
Parker—Yeah—
Krista—Oh. OH. hang on, I’m gonna call—
A second later, she did. “What the heck?” she demanded. “Someone literally left this gross lavender in your bedroom? That is so weird!”
“It’s worse than weird, considering my history. Am I being paranoid?” Parker told her about the duct tape on Ryan’s face.
“Jeez,” Krista said slowly. “But I guess duct tape is pretty common for tying people up, right?”
“Common probably isn’t the right word. But, I guess?”
“Well. I’m just saying. Just because you found a body that also had duct tape on it doesn’t mean that it has anything to do with you. Duct tape is…duct tape. It’s good for everything.”
Krista was saying the same things Parker had told herself last night. Somehow, Parker still couldn’t tell if they were good points or desperate denial.
Parker said, “But now that there’s lavender, too…”
“Now you feel like you have to talk to the cops, because it seems even more connected, and it’s going to make you look bad,” Krista replied. “Oh, dammit, Parker. Don’t do that. It’s a weird coincidence, but that’s all. Stop making everything about you.” This last had become a joke between them, considering how often they said it to each other.
“Someone duct-taped that poor guy in almost the same way my mother’s face was taped, and the same day, someone put lavender in my room for no reason,” Parker insisted.
“But no one knows about your mother. I mean, details. At this point, it’s in your head and in police files, that’s it. And the lavender part. Who would know about that?”
“My dad…” she responded slowly, but she was stymied. Krista was right. The newspapers hadn’t had details about Mom’s defacement, only that she’d been strangled and left in a closet for her five-year-old daughter to find. And Parker’s fragrant hiding place. Had that been in any articles? She’d gone through a phase in her teens of reading everything she could find about the murder, but she burned out after Dad showed her the letters from Danny. At fifteen, she turned down two ‘ten years later’ interviews, even when they offered serious money. Had a friend or cousin or neighbor shared personal details of Parker’s story for a few bucks, and she never found out because she was avoiding the media rehash like the plague?
Krista waited quietly.
“I don’t know what to think,” Parker said finally. “I stopped reading news articles at some point. My uncle’s locked up and what more is there to say about it? As far as I know, anybody could know anything.”
Krista was silent for a couple more moments and then did a typical Krista one-eighty. “Listen, Parker. I know you’re upset, and you have a right to be. Hell, you should take some time off, you’re probably all traumatized and shit. But listen to me. This is not all about you, okay? Even if you have to tell the friggin’ cops your real name, even if you have to explain why duct tape freaks you out, it’s all about that poor guy that got dead, right? And if someone’s messing with you, leaving you creepy flowers—well, just tell the cops. Get it over with. Then you can stop sweating about it and it’s off your plate.”
Krista had majored in hospitality services in college and added yoga and massage and meditation certification later, but despite her seeming focus on welcoming and wellness, she was a true cynic. Her career was designed to pull in good money doing easy work while living at vacation resorts, meeting rich marriage prospects, and staying in shape. End goal until Mr. Right came along—a position at a ritzy resort in the tropics, or possibly on an elite cruise ship.
Parker’s foul-mouthed but practical friend was often good at cutting through bullshit, and it helped.
“You’re right,” Parker said. “Thanks. I’ll stop by the station later.”
“Okay, bud, love you, got to go!” Krista said, and hung up.
Shaking her head, Parker smiled.
Chapter Six
Parker’s stomach tied itself in knots and bile roiled around threateningly in her stomach. Maybe she’d contracted some terrible disease, Ebola possibly, and she’d die here wracked with nausea before she had to follow through with her decision to speak with the police. Wouldn’t that be a relief? Or maybe the killer playing games with her had her phone tapped, now knew she was going to the cops, and would finish her off before she ruined their fun. Almost as likely as the Ebola scenario.
She groaned and forced herself to stand up before she spiraled further down into dark imaginings. With one hand on the cool glass of the sliding door, she drank in the sight of the ocean under the robin’s egg sky, and acknowledged her thoughts were fueled by panic and fear. But the emotions would pass, and the ocean would still be there. She breathed deeply and reminded herself what rock bottom felt like. This was not that, not even close.
“Mouse, car!” she called, and Mouse jumped to her feet and fetched her leash from the basket as if Parker might change her mind if she wasn’t quick enough.
“Good girl,” Parker said, giving her a scratch as she clipped it to her collar. Talk about remembering to feel grateful. How could she ever forget when she shared her life with Mouse’s kind and hopeful soul? “We’re going to run an errand, and then we are going on a beautiful hike in the woods. You won’t believe your nose.”
Parker tossed hiking shoes and a water-resistant jacket into a bag, along with nut bars and dog biscuits and her stainless-steel water bottle. Her little canister of pepper spray got zipped into the jacket’s pocket. In the car, there was a backup jug of water, along with a travel bowl for Mouse and a stash of doggy waste bags. They were set. If only Parker could prepare so thoroughly for her errand.
They trotted down the stairs, and though they passed several rooms belonging to staff, everything felt deserted. Word must have spread about having the weekend off. Mouse and Parker exited onto the street to walk to the parking lot, and she spotted a few coworkers through the lobby windows. Plus Calli, who jumped up and waved.
Parker smiled and waved back, not wanting to get derailed by a chat right now, but a moment later, Calli called, “Hey!” from the open lobby door. When Parker paused, Calli jogged up the sidewalk toward her. She wore a crocheted black tunic over black leggings, and her face looked pale and washed out under her sea-green hair.
“Morning,” Parker said.
“Hi.” Calli tried a smile, but it collapsed back into an anxious look.
“You okay?” Parker didn’t want to get sucked into teenage girl drama, but Calli looked pretty upset. “Are you grounded again?”
“My mom told you?” Color infused her face. “Yeah. Sorry I got you in trouble. I didn’t think it through.”
“No worries. I was sixteen once. I know it’s hard to deal with parents.”
Calli stared at her feet, then looked up. “Are you taking Mouse for a run? Can I go with you?”
“I’m going to talk to the police. No big deal, just a quick follow up from last night,” Parker added quickly when Calli’s face paled further. “But I should head out. You go back inside, okay? You look cold.”
Calli hugged herself, goose-fleshed shoulders visible through the lacy fabric. “Um, wait. I know this is weird, but I do really need to talk to you before you go. Because I did something stupid. And it has to do with you.”
Parker snorted. “What do you mean, with me? What are you talking about?”
“Can we sit down?”
There was a stone bench in the landscaping next to the sidewalk, and they sat just a few feet from the front doors. Mouse leaned against their knees, graciously allowing Calli to scratch behind her ears.
Calli glanced sideways at Parker, who noticed freckles showing under the layers of powder on Calli’s nose and cheeks.
“Go ahead,” Parker prodded.
“This is going to sound worse than it is…” Calli started. “I mean, it sounds worse than I thought it was, but I thought it was just, like, a surprise.”
“Okay…”
In a rush, the girl said, “I got a note that said to sneak into your apartment and leave you some flowers.”
“Ahh.”
“I thought, like, maybe someone had a crush on you. I thought it would be mysterious and romantic. And you would guess who it was from, and it would be really sweet, and I would be part of it too.”
Parker’s heart pounded as her brain reeled, trying to untangle the lavender from what happened when she was a kid and what happened to Ryan. Was it really just a prank, after all? A surprise from a crush? But that should be a nice bright bouquet, not a dried out little vase, her mind argued.
Calli stared down at the green-painted toenails showing through her gladiator sandals.
Parker finally made her mouth work. “But then you figured out it might not be so harmless?”
Calli shot her a look, face flushing, then talked to her shoes. “When I snuck in, I felt like a stalker. Like, I’d never been in your place before and I wasn’t invited, and there I was, going into your bedroom. I could have been anyone. I could have been a bad guy.”
She sounded so full of shame that it undermined Parker’s anger. Calli was gullible and inexperienced. It had probably sounded no worse than sticking a candy bar in someone’s locker at school. “Whose idea was it?” Parker said, trying for stern.
“I don’t even know,” she said with a sob in her voice. “I really don’t know. I found the note in my coat pocket last week. God, you must think I’m an idiot!”
“Last week?” Parker’s voice rose.
Calli nodded.
“So, you found the note last week, and then you waited until someone was murdered to sneak into my room? Plus, you do whatever anonymous notes tell you to do?!” Parker could hear the anger in her own voice now, but no longer cared.
“No! I just…I assumed it was one of the staff. I know it was stupid. But I thought it was sweet.”
“Calli. Jeez. If someone thought it was such a great idea, why wouldn’t they do it themselves?”
“I already admitted I’m a freaking moron, okay?” Her shouted words seemed to echo up and down the street.
