When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(69)

I turn back down the hall, and stumbling over my own dragging leg, continue my search for Hélène.





CHAPTER 28





KIMBERLY





MAYOR HOWARD WAS CLEARLY AGITATED. “You can’t go down there! I am the homeowner. I deny you permission. For God’s sake, my wife is dead. I’m the victim here!”

He tried to rise from his seat. Sheriff Smithers used his massive hand to force the man back down.

“Interfere in our investigation again, and I will arrest you,” Kimberly informed the red-faced mayor. She turned to Sheriff Smithers. “You got him?”

“He’s not going anywhere.”

“Good.”

Kimberly didn’t know where the silent maid was taking D.D., but the look of determination on the young girl’s face had been enough to tell her it wasn’t good. D.D. could handle it, though. Meaning they had another issue that required immediate tending. Martha Counsel’s office.

Kimberly wanted first crack at all the woman’s correspondence, business diaries, and official documents. Especially any related to their “niece” and their other workers.

Here was a fact: Where there was one crime, there were generally dozens more.

Basically, if Martha Counsel was the kind of woman willing to accept an illegal organ, and her husband was the kind of guy willing to turn a blind eye to such a major scam, what else were they involved with?

Kimberly was hoping to find answers in the woman’s office, as apparently Martha Counsel had been the brains of the operation—or at least the head administrator.

First surprise when she entered the space: Someone had been there first. The left-hand drawer of the cherrywood desk had been yanked open and files spilled across the top and down onto the floor. Further inspection revealed the lock had been forced.

Kimberly scowled, snapped on gloves, and kneeled down to survey the damage.

Mayor Howard had been accompanied by Sheriff Smithers at all times, and the sheriff hadn’t mentioned this, meaning it had most likely happened after they were done checking the office’s desktop computer. From that moment on, the mayor had been sequestered in the nook. Which left the cook in the kitchen? It was possible she’d snuck down the hall. Or the maids, Bonita and Hélène. Given Bonita seemed to have a task only D.D. could handle, Kimberly felt it was safe to rule her out.

Unless, of course, there was someone else in the house.

Kimberly got that prickly feeling in the back of her neck. Sure, they’d been treating Martha Counsel’s hanging as a suspicious death. But they hadn’t gotten too serious about considering the inn’s guests as a threat.

Kimberly rose to standing and hurried back to the front room. Keeping her gaze on Mayor Howard, who sat in distressed silence, she pulled aside Sheriff Smithers.

“Where are we with interviewing the guests?”

“Four couples. I sent a deputy up to fetch them. They were getting dressed, given the early morning hour, then coming on down.”

“How long ago?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced at his watch. “Been thirty minutes or so.”

“No one needs thirty minutes to get dressed. Have your deputy escort them down, right now. Verify everyone’s photo ID, take all vitals. The office has been burglarized. Something more is going on here. Or someone else is in this hotel.”

Sheriff Smithers thinned his lips, nodded curtly. He activated the radio clipped to his shoulder, murmured some instructions low enough for the mayor to remain oblivious, then resumed his oversight of the dining room.

Kimberly hightailed it back to the office. Now she noticed a painted door ajar just beyond the office. It produced a draft of cold air. Stairs to the basement, she realized. That’s what Mayor Howard had been talking about. He didn’t want them going “down there.” More power to Bonita and D.D., then. Kimberly hoped the girl was giving D.D. the grand tour—deadly family secret here, evil doings there. That would be perfect.

In the meantime, Kimberly had the office.

Each of the files strewn across the floor bore a name of an employee. The paperwork inside seemed standard: copies of W-2s, photo IDs. Martha Counsel had said her paperwork was in order—and at first blush, she hadn’t been lying.

But then Kimberly noticed what wasn’t present. Hélène’s file. Anything identifiable with their niece. Furthermore, there was an empty folder. Stacey Kasmer was inked across the top. But Kimberly couldn’t find any trace of a photo ID or other paperwork.

Next, she booted up the desktop. Password protected. Meaning she’d have to return to the mayor for info, which she didn’t feel like doing right now, or wait for Keith, who could probably learn more from the machine in ten minutes than she could in ten hours. She wondered what he and Flora were doing for the day. Hopefully keeping out of trouble.

She turned around, noticing one of the volumes was slightly askew on the bookshelf. Kimberly ran her fingers carefully up and down the spines of the old history books. She tugged one. Sure enough, the rest came out to reveal a squat black wall safe tucked behind.

Roughly the size of a hotel safe, the rectangular unit probably didn’t contain large treasures. But important passports, documents, a detailed confession of the kidney operation fifteen years ago—Kimberly could only hope.