Methods of Malice, page 9
“Isn’t your friend Quinton an investment banker?” Earl asked.
“Yes, why?”
“Your mama is serious about this catering business, you know. Up until now, Magnolia’s Marvels has been a small home business, but if we’re going to invest our life’s savings into this, seems like we need professional advice.”
“Daddy, you are so right. I’d trust Quinton Enderly with my life and my money. He’s a good friend.” A lightbulb went off as they spoke. “Oh, my. What a brilliant idea. I need to talk to him too.” She reached up and hugged her father. “Thank you so much.”
“Happy to help.” He looked around the greenhouse once more. This time he grimaced. “Quite a mess you have here. Do you want help cleaning up? We’ve got a little time before your mama calls and asks why I’m not washing up for supper and bringing you with me.”
“I’ve got it. You go ahead. I’ll be along shortly.”
He turned to leave. “Okay, but you better put a hurry in your step. We’re having chicken and rice, and your grandmother is already complaining that she’s faint from hunger.”
Cooper spared one more look at her birdhouses before she put the lids on the paint cans and set brushes to soak. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.
Closing the door to the greenhouse, she stood listening to the sounds of the evening. Grammy Lee’s rescue hawk, Columbus, rustled his feathers as he settled in his aviary. In the distance, a dove cooed.
With her eyes on the night sky, Cooper stepped on the smooth flagstones that led to her parents’ house. She could walk the path with her eyes closed. What had Jon said? Stepping out of her comfort zone and relying on faith was like a walk in the dark.
Yet again, it occurred to her that she was standing on the threshold of change.
“Change is hard,” Cooper murmured.
Chapter Seven
“That’s her,” Cooper said. “The front desk clerk on the right. The friendly-looking one with the curly blonde hair.”
Cooper and Trish stood behind a massive pillar in the lobby of the Richmond Grand Hotel, scoping out the reception desk.
“Hospitality professional,” Trish said. “That’s the appropriate title these days.”
“Good to know.” Cooper glanced around. “Things are quiet right now. Should we talk to her?”
Trish glanced at her watch and then turned to Cooper. “Yes. I think I have a plan.”
“I’m glad one of us does.”
Trish straightened and quickly checked her houndstooth blazer and wool skirt before she strode confidently across the lobby. Her leather knee-high boots echoed a staccato beat as she crossed the marble floor.
Cooper followed, purposely lagging by a few steps. This was Trish’s show. After all, she was an experienced actress.
“Hi there.” Trish glanced at the young woman’s name tag. “Madison. I’m Trish Tyler with Tyler Fine Properties. Is there someone I can speak to about conference planning?”
“Oh, yes, of course. But it’s after hours, and our events coordinator has left for the day.” She opened a drawer. “Here’s her card.”
“That’s too bad.” Trish took the card and frowned. “I’d love to book our event at the Grand, but it’s imperative that I get preliminary information to the conference team tomorrow. Would it be possible for you to at least show me around, so I can assure them that the Grand should be in the running for the conference bid?”
Madison frowned as though debating.
“I’m talking about a quick peek,” Trish said with a bright smile. “Fifteen minutes to see the ballroom and the Concierge Level, and then we’ll save the rest for . . .” She glanced at the card. “Suzie.”
“Okay, sure. I can do that.” Madison turned from the counter. “Would you excuse me while I find an associate to cover for me?”
“Absolutely.”
Cooper stepped up to the desk shaking her head. She could learn a lot from Trish about confidence.
Madison returned and eyed Cooper with curiosity.
Trish smiled. “This is my friend, Cooper Lee.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cooper said.
“May we see the Concierge Level first?” Trish asked.
“Sure. Right this way, ladies.” Madison swiped her key card at the elevator, and they all stepped in.
Cooper couldn’t help but catch her own reflection in the brass panels of the elevator. Dowdy. That was her reaction. Even the hospitality professional wearing a navy-blue polyester suit looked better than she did. Maybe it was time to upgrade her wardrobe. The possible future manager of Bits & Pieces ought to look at least as nice as her customers.
Maybe she’d ask Ashley for advice. She frowned. Maybe not.
Madison cocked her head and looked at Cooper. “You look familiar. Didn’t we chat last week?”
“Yes. You delivered the flowers for me. To Jasmine Ryan.”
“Oh, yes. I remember. There was a problem with . . .” She sniffed. “With Ms. McAllister.” Her chin trembled. “I’m sure you’ve heard. It’s been all over the news.”
“Yes,” Cooper said. “A terrible tragedy.”
“Nothing like this has ever happened at the hotel. And on my shift too.” She wiped away a tear.
“Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about what happened?” Trish asked.
Madison blinked and looked from Trish to Cooper. “I thought you were here for conference planning?”
“We are.” Trish nodded. “But we worked with Ms. McAllister at the Hope Street Community Theater, and as you can imagine, this whole situation has left us with unanswered questions.”
“Wait a minute.” Madison frowned. “You’re actors?”
“Volunteers. The winter production is a community event to raise money for the senior center,” Cooper explained.
“Oh, yeah. I read that in the paper.” Madison frowned. “I don’t know how I can help you. I’ve already told the police everything I know, which isn’t much.”
“You never know what might help.”
The elevator stopped at the Concierge Level, and Madison held the door while Trish and Cooper stepped out.
“Yes. I remember this floor,” Cooper said. “Regina was in that room. Fifteen forty-seven.”
“It’s been closed to reservations until further notice. We aren’t supposed to talk about what happened.” Madison shot a surreptitious glance up and down the hall. “I can tell you, it was quite a day. I thought I would be sacked when my supervisor found out the medical examiner had taken the body through the lobby. How was I supposed to know they should have used the service elevator?” She clutched her hands together tightly. “It’s not like this has ever happened to me before.”
“I’m sure you did your best in a difficult situation.” Cooper offered a sympathetic nod. “Are all of Simon Doyle’s crew staying on this floor?”
“I’m really not allowed to share that information, but you already know that Jasmine Ryan and Regina McAllister were.”
“I can confirm Laura is on this floor as well,” Trish said. “She told me.”
“What about Michael Ospina?” Cooper asked.
Madison bit her lip and glanced around, then gave a quick nod. “That detective wanted to know if they had rooms near each other. I guess he thought that would be helpful.”
“Did they?” Cooper asked.
“Not at all. They were far from each other. We’ve been really busy with a Mary Kay Cosmetics convention and had limited availability last week.”
“I was told that Simon Doyle is in the penthouse,” Trish said. “How do you get to the penthouse?”
“There’s only one elevator with access.” Madison strode down the hall and turned left. “This is the penthouse elevator. It has its own passkey.”
“The penthouse occupants can come down to this level easily enough,” Trish said.
“Correct.”
“Are there cameras in the elevators?” Cooper asked.
“All but the penthouse elevator. Our guests request privacy, and for what they’re paying, we give it to them.”
Cooper noted the stairwell sign. “What about stairs to the penthouse?”
“Access is from this level. Passkey-protected as well.”
“Are all the stairwells passkey-protected?” Trish asked.
“Yes. In the event of a fire, all the stairwells unlock when the elevators shut down.”
“Madison, do you know who found the body?” Cooper asked.
The young woman’s face crumpled. “Housekeeping staff. Ms. McAllister insisted on a full room cleaning each day. Our staff accessed the room around noon and then called down to the front desk. My supervisor was off on Friday, so it fell to me.” She sniffed. “I called 9-1-1 and then took the elevator to the room.”
“She was already gone?” Cooper asked gently.
Madison nodded. “At first, I thought it was a mistake. That she’d been in the sun. Her skin was so pink.” She swallowed. “They make us take first aid here. I checked for a pulse and everything.”
Trish patted her arm. “There was nothing else you could do.”
“I hope they figure out what happened to that woman. She wasn’t pleasant, but no one should die alone like that.”
Cooper agreed. It seemed more and more likely that Regina’s death was murder, and even a cranky assistant director deserved better. “Can you tell us about the room?” Cooper worked to keep her tone casual before Madison had a complete meltdown.
“You’re not going to talk to the press, are you? That redheaded detective told me not to talk to the press.”
“No.” Trish shook her head. “I told you. We worked with Regina at the theater. We want to know what happened too.” She put a hand on Madison’s arm. “Maybe you could show us an empty room? One that’s like Regina’s.”
“Sure. I can do that.”
She unlocked the room next to fifteen forty-seven. “Ms. McAllister wanted a room with a view. This one was occupied at that time. Ms. Ryan was kind enough to switch.” She looked at Cooper. “That’s why you delivered the flowers to the wrong room.”
“Yes. I remember.” Cooper nodded. She also remembered leaving the hotel and thinking that trouble was brewing. Little did she know how much trouble.
Trish walked around the suite. “Does Regina’s room look just like this one?”
“Uh-huh. Exactly the same. Ms. McAllister was on the couch, slumped over. She looked like she was sleeping.” Madison quickly averted her gaze.
“Anything else you remember?” Cooper asked.
“Chocolates. There was a box of Délicieux French Chocolates. Ganache, truffles and pralines. An open three-pound box was next to her on the couch, and several pieces were missing. Oh, and the television was on.” She paused. “I heard the medical examiner tell that detective she’d been dead for twelve hours.”
“How did you know it was a three-pound box?” Cooper asked.
“It’s my mother’s favorite. The three-pound box is silver. I buy her one just like it every year for her birthday. Eighty-four pieces.”
“Was there anything else in the room?” Cooper asked.
“Like what?”
“A room service meal or maybe a pizza box?”
“No. Nothing.” She looked at them and then at the door. “Do you want to see the ballroom now?”
Trish once again put a hand on Madison’s arm. “No, that’s all for now. I know this has been very difficult for you. When I talk to your events coordinator, I’ll let her know how helpful you’ve been.”
“Thank you.”
The ride down in the elevator was silent, and Cooper avoided looking at her reflection this time.
As Trish and Cooper headed to the revolving glass doors, Trish turned to Cooper. “What happened when you were here delivering flowers?”
Cooper explained. “Regina slammed that door so hard that it rattled.”
“Interesting that she changed rooms.”
“Interesting how?” Clearly, Trish was on to something.
“If the chocolates were tainted, they could have been delivered to Regina by someone who thought they were delivering them to Jasmine, right?”
“Yes. Murder by mistake. That’s what Jessica Fletcher calls it on Murder, She Wrote.”
“I don’t suppose Jessica can solve our mystery for us?” Trish said.
“I wish. Jessica doesn’t have a Detective Olson breathing down her neck. All the law enforcement officers on the show love Jessica Fletcher.”
“That’s how you can tell it’s fiction.” Trish laughed. “So, what’s next?”
“Speaking of Detective Olson, I should talk to him. He needs to have the piece of the puzzle about the room change. Although I’m probably going to get another lecture on keeping my nose out of police business.”
“If he’d solve this case in a timely manner, we wouldn’t have to.” Trish raised her brows.
“I wish I had your way with words, Trish. I’m terrible at quick comebacks.” Cooper paused. “All that talk about booking a conference? Did you make that up on the fly?”
“Not at all. I’m the head of my local small business networking group. We do have a conference every year.”
“Do you have your finger in every pie?”
“I guess I do.” She laughed. “I like being involved in my community.”
That sounded like her sister, Ashley. Except Ashley delegated, she never got her hands dirty like Trish did. “What does your group do?” Cooper asked.
“We meet once a month in the evening. Discussions focus on how to generate leads and our small business needs. Sometimes we have a speaker. Other times we brainstorm.”
“That’s interesting. Who’s in your group?”
“Many of the downtown Richmond small businesses.”
“Oh? Have you ever heard of Bits & Pieces?”
“Of course, that adorable gift shop. Didn’t you say your birdhouses are consigned there?”
“You have a good memory.”
“In my business, it pays to have a mind for details. It makes my clients feel special if I remember their favorite colors or how many children they have.” She smiled. “Why did you ask about Bits & Pieces?”
“I . . .” Cooper looked across the lobby. She did a double take when she spotted a familiar figure. “Trish, look. Over there by that giant potted ficus, by the entrance to the hotel bar.”
“Is that Quinton?” Trish scrunched up her eyes.
“Yes,” Cooper said. “Quinton Enderly in a trench coat and sunglasses.” She laughed. “I think he’s undercover.”
“Oh my goodness. Let’s go chat with our favorite spy,” Trish said.
Quinton pulled down his sunglasses as they approached. “Fancy meeting you two here.”
“What are you up to, Quinton?” Cooper asked.
“I’m following Simon Doyle.”
“I thought he was in California,” she said.
“He’s back, and right now he’s in the hotel restaurant with Jasmine.” He looked around. “Come on. Let’s go across the street. There’s a coffee shop. I’ve got intel to share.”
Cooper picked up her double espresso from the barista and slid into a booth across from Quinton. “Tell all, 007.”
He grinned. “Simon took Jasmine shopping. She practically cleared out half a dozen boutiques and had everything sent to the hotel.”
“She told me he was her advisor,” Cooper said. “Nothing more.”
Quinton laughed. “Well, he’s advising her to spend his money.”
“Being a gold digger isn’t illegal,” Trish said. “If it were, my brother’s ex-wife would be in jail for life.”
“It’s all very strange. A woman dies, and they go shopping,” Quinton said.
Cooper wrapped her hands around her cup. “As far as I can tell, Simon and his entire entourage are like a daytime soap opera. There are so many subplots I can barely keep up.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting with the group on Friday,” Quinton said. “And not just because I love Casa Grande’s menu. I want to start connecting the dots on this case.”
“Me too,” Cooper said. “Me too.” Cooper was more than ready to close this case and move on.
• • •
“Over here, Quinton.” Cooper stood and waved across Casa Grande restaurant. He waved back while weaving his way toward the table where the rest of the Bible study sat. The restaurant was busier than usual today with hurried servers moving between tables. The noise level was louder as well, nearly drowning out the piped-in mariachi music.
“We thought you weren’t going to make it,” Savannah said.
“I miss a lot of things,” Quinton said. “But never meals.”
Jake and Savannah scooted their chairs down, and Quinton sat down next to Savannah.
“Pass Quinton a bowl of chips,” Jake said.
Cooper grabbed the chip bowl nearest to her and passed it along to her friend, followed by a small bowl of salsa. “Here you go.”
“Do you want a menu?” Bryant asked.
“I have the menu memorized. It’s Enchilada Acapulco for me, every time.”
Once their server came by with water for everyone and took their orders, Quinton leaned forward in his chair and glanced around the table. “I have news,” he said quietly.
“Spill,” Cooper said.
“I talked to Jasmine’s best friend back in New York City.”
“How on earth did you find her bestie?” Trish asked.
“I should start at the beginning,” he said. “I overheard Jasmine talking to Laura at the mixer about a French bakery on Broad Street. What else could I do except hang out there a few mornings this week. On Tuesday, Jasmine came in. I said hello and we chatted about the play. That’s when she mentioned her best friend, Amelia, in New York, was opening in an off-Broadway production of The King and I.”
“Nice investigative work,” Bryant said. “Maybe you should come to work for Channel 6.”
“Thank you.” Quinton chuckled. “Now, I won’t bore you with the details, but I researched online and reached out to the bestie through her talent agent. Amelia was only too happy to dish. It seems she hasn’t heard much from her former BFF since she became Simon’s protégée. There was some bitterness in her voice when she let slip that Jasmine has stepped on quite a few friends while climbing to the top.”
