Sunset Beach(49)

The woman was young, in her mid-twenties, Drue guessed, with short reddish-purple hair and sallow skin ravished with angry red acne.

“What about?” she said, instantly wary.

“Weren’t you working here when Jazmin Mayes, one of the other housekeepers, was killed a couple years ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know Jazmin?”

“Not that well,” Lutrisha said. She paused. “I was the one who found her body.”

“Ohhh. Right.” That was why her name had struck a chord, Drue thought. “But I thought you left and took a job someplace else. Publix?”

“How do you know so much?” Lustrisha asked.

“I work for the law firm that Jazmin’s mother hired after she was killed,” Drue said. “I think you talked to our investigator not long after it happened.”

“I can’t talk to you,” Lutrisha said, glancing around. “I gotta get back to work.”

“What time do you get off?”

“Not for another hour.”

“Could I meet you somewhere, so we could talk? I just live a few blocks away.”

“I can’t get involved,” the girl said. “I’m sorry for her kid and all, but this has got nothing to do with me.” She started to push the cart away, but Drue stayed right beside her.

“You know, they still haven’t caught Jazmin’s killer.”

“Yeah, so I heard.”

“Did you know that Jazmin’s mother is raising her daughter? Yvonne only got a settlement of one hundred thirty-five thousand dollars, because the hotel claimed Jazmin was working when she was killed. And all the money is tied up in a trust for Aliyah, so it can’t be touched ’til she’s eighteen.”

The girl stopped in front of the laundry room doors, fumbling for her key card, which she wore on a cord around her wrist. “That’s all?” She looked shocked.

“Aliyah has severe asthma,” Drue said, unabashedly laying it on thick. “Her medical bills are horrendous.”

Lutrisha had the key card poised to swipe. She sighed. “Where do you want to meet? I can’t take long. I been working all day and I’m beat.”

“How about that coffee shop on Gulf Boulevard? Right next to the Thunderbird?” Drue asked. “At eight-thirty?”

The girl nodded. “I’ll be there.”





22


Lutrisha Smallwood’s name was a cruel joke. She was tall and bean-pole thin, with light blue eyes that narrowed as she blew a plume of vapor from her e-cigarette. She’d been leaning up against the outside of the coffee shop, vaping, when Drue pedaled up on the beach bike she’d bought on Craigslist.

The girl smiled crookedly as Drue approached. “Did you get your license yanked for too many DUIs?”

“No. My car’s out of commission.” Drue gestured toward the coffee shop. “Do you want to go in and talk?”

“Waiting on you,” Lutrisha said, following her inside.



* * *



“You know,” Lutrisha said, staring down at her mug of coffee. “Right after that thing with Jazmin, the hotel manager called all of us in housekeeping into a meeting. He said Jazmin’s mom hired some hotshot lawyer who was gonna sue the hotel for, like, ten million dollars. And if she won the case, the hotel would have to close up and all of us would lose our jobs.”

“That’s not true. It never got as far as a lawsuit. And besides, even if she’d filed suit and won, the hotel’s insurance company would pay the claim—not the hotel.”

“So you say.” Lutrisha looked around the coffee shop, which was mostly empty. The only employee was busy wiping down the marble counter. “I can’t afford to lose this job. I tried working at Publix, but they wouldn’t give me full-time hours. I got a kid of my own. That’s why I came back to work at the hotel. Plus, most of the folks there, they’re not so bad.”

“What about the ones who are bad?” Drue asked.

“Most of ’em left.”

“Like H. K. Byars and Mr. Shelnutt?”

“Shelnutt still works there.”

Drue stared at the girl, trying to figure out how much she knew and what she was willing to share. She had a poker face.

“You told our investigator you didn’t know Jazmin all that well. Was that true?”

Lutrisha nibbled at her cuticle. “I don’t need to get dragged back into this mess. I knew her from work, okay? We both had little kids, so it wasn’t like we were going to go out clubbing together every night.”

“Got it,” Drue said. “Did Jazmin ever mention to you that somebody at the hotel was bothering her? Maybe sexually harassing her?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“She told her mother that a white, older man, who was married, was coming on to her. The hotel says they never received any complaints of harassment from Jazmin.”

“Huh. Her too?”

“Was somebody bothering you?” Drue asked.

“He tried.” Lutrisha smiled grimly. “Started brushing up against me in the hallways, trying to corner me in the service elevator, putting his hands where they don’t belong. The second time he did it, I sprayed him in the face with Windex. After that, the son of a bitch steered way clear of me.”