The thing was, Tommy really was a kindhearted, good-natured guy who believed his wife was as sweet and kind as he was. Tommy was as honest as the day was long, and he wouldn’t think of hurting anyone’s feelings on purpose. He hadn’t changed much since high school when we were dating. Back then he liked surfing, playing football, and me. Probably in that order. These days, I knew that he loved his job and was devoted to his kids and his wife. Probably in that order as well.
And because he was so agreeable, his wife found it pitifully easy to manipulate him. Whatever I said to him would get back to Whitney, so I was always careful when he and I talked. I tried not to abuse his good nature, but right now I was the one who needed information.
“What time is their lunch?” I asked. “Do you know where they’re going? Um, because I would love to send a split of champagne to their table.”
“Hey, that’s a cool idea,” Tommy said, and provided me with the intel I needed.
I gave him a big kiss—because that was how I rolled—and left for my jobsite, where I gleefully pounded nails for two hours straight.
*
It was twelve noon and I was about to take a lunch break and call the restaurant where Jane was meeting Whitney, when Douglas, who was helping me with the nail pounding, got a phone call.
“I’ve gotta take this,” he shouted.
I relaxed my hammering arm so he could talk on the phone. A minute later he disconnected the call, looking puzzled.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You know my brother, Phil, works at the Inn on Main Street.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“He just told me that some guy committed suicide in his hotel room.”
“Oh my God. That’s terrible.”
Douglas looked stunned. “Phil found the body.”
My stomach dipped. “How awful.”
“He said the guy ordered breakfast from room service, and when Phil brought the tray up, he found him slumped over his computer keyboard. There was a suicide note on the screen and a syringe hanging out of his arm.”
“Oh no. That poor man. That’s so upsetting. Is your brother all right? Is he traumatized?”
My mind was already spinning with questions. Namely, why would anyone order room service and then kill himself before the food arrived? I didn’t say that out loud. I figured I was focused on food because I hadn’t gone to lunch yet.
“Phil’s a little shaky, but he’ll be fine.” Douglas lowered his voice to add, “He thinks the guy was having an affair.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Every time he went to the guy’s room, he smelled perfume.”
“Interesting. Did Phil see the woman?”
Douglas shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
“It was probably his wife.”
“Maybe. Phil said the guy was in town for a conference out at the Zen Center.”
“Your brother found out all that?”
“Yeah. He’s pretty chatty sometimes. And he’d been delivering room service stuff to the guy since he arrived a few days ago.”
I smiled. “Phil’s got a future as a detective.”
“I know. He can be sharp when he wants to be.”
I went back to hammering, but a minute later, my phone rang. I checked the screen and saw that it was Jane. My shoulders fell a little. Was she going to yell at me some more for being an idiot or maybe tell me all about her fabulous lunch with Whitney? I sighed. “Hello.”
“Oh my God, Shannon,” she cried. “Did you hear?”
“Hear what?” Was her lunch with Whitney that bad? I checked the time. I’d missed my window of opportunity to send a bottle of champagne to their table.
“Andrew Braxton is dead! He committed suicide in his hotel room!”
*
I met Jane across the street from the Inn on Main Street.
“This never would’ve happened if only I’d kept his room open.”
I wound my arm through hers for support. “Jane, this isn’t your fault. He might’ve killed himself in your Desdemona Suite if you hadn’t sent him off to the Inn.”
She gasped and pressed her hand against her mouth. “Oh my God. I hadn’t considered that. It would have been horrible.”
“Yes.” And the publicity would’ve been awful, too. Nobody wanted to stay in a room where a death had just occurred. I didn’t mention that part out loud.
“Oh no,” she cried. “Shannon, today is Friday. He was supposed to move back to Hennessey House today. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered. Peering through the crowd, I spotted a familiar face. I grabbed her arm. “There’s Tommy. Come on. Let’s try to find out what happened.”
As soon as we reached Tommy, he held up his hand. “I can’t tell you anything, Shannon, so don’t ask.”
I gave Jane a quick look, then said, “I wasn’t going to ask, I swear. But Jane thinks she knows the guy. He was supposed to check into Hennessey House today so she’s pretty upset and wonders if maybe the thought of changing hotels pushed him over the edge.” I was stretching credulity, but I was willing to do whatever it took to get info from Tommy. I leaned in closer and whispered, “We already know the guy committed suicide. And somebody said he was having an affair. Can you tell Jane anything that will help ease her mind?”
“Jeez,” he said, smacking his forehead. “Can’t anyone keep a secret in this town?”
I almost laughed, since I got a lot of my best information from Tommy himself. Then again, this wasn’t a good time to mention that.