A Fright to the Death

“Can you tell us any more about your cousin? Did you grow up together?” I asked.

 

Jessica snorted. “We never got along, even when we were kids. She was one of those spoiled little kids that was used to having every whim indulged, and she didn’t mind stepping on people to get what she wanted.”

 

“How had you been doing since she moved back here and started working at the hotel?”

 

“Mostly I ran interference between her and the staff. I felt like I was back in high school again, where I had to convince people that, even though we were related, I was nothing like her. The staff started acting scared of all three of us. I suppose because they assumed we were complicit in Clarissa’s management style. Basically, I ran around cleaning up her messes.”

 

“What changes was she trying to make here?” Mac asked.

 

“She had this idea that the hotel could become a destination spa. She wanted to divert money from the restaurant—René had been working on expanding our offerings and trying to get the restaurant Michelin rated—and put it toward the spa,” she said. “René was initially outraged and then . . . I don’t know . . . he just backed off.” She stopped and stared into space for a moment.

 

“Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about our boring business plans.” She stood and gestured toward the door. “Let’s go up and see how she’s doing.”

 

I opened my mouth to ask more about the business plans, but Mac gave a quick shake of his head. He rested his hand on my lower back and I knew he had his reasons for allowing Jessica to deflect further questions.

 

Jessica didn’t notice as she was already shooing us out of the office and quizzing Mac on what he had discovered when he drove out to the road.

 

She didn’t seem surprised that the road was blocked and accepted it without comment.

 

We followed her through the back hallways and up the stairs. Jessica knocked on the door and signaled to us to wait a moment while she checked on her mom. I heard whispering inside and then Jessica returned to the door and ushered us inside.

 

Linda did look like she’d seen better days. The efficient, art-collecting proprietor had been replaced by an old woman with red-rimmed eyes and frizzy hair.

 

“Please excuse my appearance—I just . . .” Her eyes welled up and I stepped forward to touch her arm.

 

“It’s fine, Mrs. Garrett. Detective McKenzie and I just have a couple more questions for you and Jessica. Until the Kalamazoo Police can get here, we’re trying to find out who could have . . . harmed . . . your niece.”

 

She nodded and sat on the couch. Jessica sat next to her and gestured for us to sit as well.

 

Mac cleared his throat. I knew he hated talking to people when they were crying. Unfortunately for him, it was part of his job description. Working in homicide meant he had to give bad news frequently and then make things worse by questioning the grieving family.

 

“Clyde and I examined Clarissa’s room today. We hoped to find some clues in the light of day. What we found was a secret staircase that led to the kitchen.” Mac gazed from one to the other. I knew he was looking for any signs of surprise or concern. “I assume you knew of the existence of the staircase?”

 

Both women nodded.

 

“Is it in regular use?” I asked.

 

Linda dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “No, it had been boarded up for a long time. When Clarissa moved into the turret room, she had Gus open it up again and sweep it out. I’m not sure that she even used it, but she had always been fascinated by it. I thought she just liked the idea of a secret passage.” She looked at Jessica. “When the girls were little, they were so disappointed that I wouldn’t let them play in there, but it hadn’t been opened in years and it’s so steep.”

 

Jessica nodded. “Clarissa and I went through the passageway just after she had it cleaned out. She was so intrigued by the story that Alastair had built the staircase for a wife who was essentially bedbound.”

 

“How many people know that it’s there?” Mac asked.

 

They looked at each other and then Jessica said, “Probably most of the staff. It wasn’t a secret. In fact, it never occurred to me to mention it to you since everyone who works here knows it exists.”

 

Mac nodded. “Well, it does change our questioning a bit. If there were two entrances to the room, it opens up more opportunities for the killer to get to her unseen.”

 

Linda’s mouth dropped open. “Of course. I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. I haven’t been thinking straight since I found her . . . body.” She dabbed at her eyes again and sniffled.

 

I looked at Mac and he gave a slight nod.

 

“Jessica, Linda, we’ve heard during our interviews that you two had a meeting with Clarissa on Wednesday afternoon that became heated. Can you tell us what that meeting was about?”

 

Jessica glanced quickly at her mother. Linda narrowed her eyes and looked much less distraught at Clarissa’s passing.

 

Dawn Eastman's books