15th Affair (Women's Murder Club #15)(5)

I stopped the video. She was on her phone. Between her haircut, her glasses, and her holding the phone close to her mouth, I couldn’t see much of her face. Her overall appearance was stylish, and she seemed self-assured. I started up the video and we watched the woman walk down the hallway and knock on the door of room 1420. The door opened and she went inside.

I kept the video rolling, looking for bad guys to appear, to put a gun to the housekeeper’s head, to go into the room next door and take out the PIs.

Then, when the time code read 6:23—something happened. The screen went gray. The picture was just—gone.

We ran the tape all the way to the end, hoping the video would resume, but there was nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

All we had were four dead people and no clue as to who had killed them, how they’d done it, or why.

I didn’t like this.

I didn’t like it at all.





CHAPTER 7


BY THE TIME I got home, it was three in the morning and I had a headache the size of a mushroom cloud.

Martha, our border collie and best furry friend forever, greeted me at the door. She woke up Mrs. Rose, who was sleeping on the couch, but thankfully, Julie slept on. I hugged our lovely sitter, and after she’d gone home, I checked the caller ID log.

Still no call from Joe.

It wasn’t the first time I hadn’t heard from Joe over the course of a day. He had a consulting job with airport security. He could be in a series of meetings or lost in the details of keeping outbound planes secure.

It was a great job and he loved it—but it was after three. He hadn’t texted me a single line since noon.

Of course, I was worried. Was Joe OK?

I checked on our little Sleeping Beauty and threw a sigh that relaxed my whole body. I watched her breathe. I rested my hand on her back. I made sure there was no draft, that she was dry and sleeping soundly. I pulled up her blanket, then softly closed her door.

I took an Advil and followed it with the shower I’d been longing for. After putting on PJs and checking on Julie again, I got into bed and fell asleep, instantly.

Maybe an hour later, my eyes flashed open.

Joe still wasn’t home.

I patted the bed and Martha jumped up, circled, and plopped down beside me. I hugged her and thought about the victims at the hotel. I reviewed each of the crime scenes in my mind’s eye and hoped that while I slept, answers would come to me.

When I woke up, it was morning.

I had not solved the crimes in my sleep, but Joe was in bed, snoring beside me.





CHAPTER 8


I KISSED MY husband.

He opened his blue eyes and asked, “What day is it?”

I told him and he fell back asleep.

I woke him up.

“What day is it?” he asked. Again.

“Hey. It’s Tuesday, six forty-five a.m. Did you get any phone calls from me, like about six of them?”

“Oh, geez. I’m sorry,” he said. “My phone was off.”

“You’re in the doghouse, buddy.”

I swung my legs over the bed. Joe’s arm snaked out and he grabbed me and pulled me down next to him.

“Some people on the watch list came up on our passenger manifest,” he said. “And that’s all I can tell you.”

“Fine.”

I made another break for the side of the bed, but he didn’t let me get up.

“I’m sorry.”

“OK. But I worry when I don’t hear from you, Joe.”

“I know. Same here.”

We nuzzled and wrestled around and I relented a little. Then I relented a lot. I shut down the hideous pictures in my mind of dead people, and I even tried to keep from listening for Julie. Martha hung her muzzle on the edge of the bed, and Joe pushed her away without losing a beat.

It was glorious lovemaking. Not fancy, but good wholesome friskiness when I hadn’t even thought kisses were in order.

I collapsed with my arm over Joe’s chest and my head under his chin.

“That was nice,” I said.

“Nice? At my age? With no sleep? I’m wondering how I pulled that off at all.”

He got me laughing. I said, “It was the best ever, Joe. God. You’re amazing.”

“Want to go another round?”

“Save something for tonight,” I said, laughing again.

I dressed, took Martha for a run along Lake Street, stretched my legs, and watched sunrise and early-morning traffic and other people out for a run with their dogs.

When doggy and I returned, Julie was in her high chair and I smelled pancakes. I went to my sweet girl and kissed and squeezed her a little bit.

“You’re sooo cute,” I told her. “Did you tell Daddy thank you for the pancakes?”

“Nooooo,” she said, slapping her hands on the tray.

“Oh, you like that word too much,” I said. So she said it again, laughing and burbling at the same time.

“OK, I’ll tell him,” I said.

I put my arms around my husband’s waist and hugged him tight. “I love you so much,” I said. “And thank you for making breakfast.”

“Uh-huh. Please, sit yourself down.”

I pulled up a seat at the table, which was positioned to get a nice bright beam of morning light. Joe dished up the pancakes and crispy bacon, and between bites, I fed cereal to Julie.