Dead Girl Running (Cape Charade #1)(43)

Sheri Jean thawed a little. “I understand. Do you have someplace else to go?”

Mrs. Kazah said, “I saw a motel in Cape Charade and thought maybe—”

Sheri Jean and Kellen exchanged horrified glances. The Cape Charade Motel was known for drug deals and bedbugs and was no place for a woman and a child.

Sheri Jean leaped into action. “We have an arrangement with Virtue Falls Resort. It’s a beautiful place, an old boutique hotel north of here about three hours. If that interests you, we can call and get you a room.”

Sheri Jean herded the lady to the reception desk and returned to Kellen. “The Kazahs aren’t the only ones to be spooked by Priscilla’s murder. I lost Lewis from the concierge desk and Lena from guest services, and it’s not as if I was overstaffed to start with.”

“What are they afraid of?”

“Rumors are saying Priscilla’s hands were cut off.”

Kellen had told only Mara. But Lloyd and Temo had known. Maybe they’d gossiped. Or maybe the killer had spread the word to sow uneasiness.

Kellen had to discover the truth about the murder before the staff, minimal as it was, panicked. She had promised Annie she would keep the resort running. She had promised herself a home. Murder and smuggling were nothing more than a challenge. She’d faced worse in her life.

Sheri Jean continued, “It’s dark and it’s cold. The hotel is big and empty.” She shrugged as if trying to dislodge a phantom’s cold hand on her neck. “It’s creepy. Have you heard anything specific about Priscilla’s remains?”

Kellen gave a smile that showed too many gleaming white teeth. “I haven’t heard a word from Lloyd Magnuson, and his phone goes right to voice mail.”

Sheri Jean made a disgusted sound. “When Lloyd goes to Virtue Falls, he visits and eats and drinks. When Mike Sun calls with the results of the autopsy, Lloyd will sober up. Eventually, he’ll get around to giving you a call.”

“It’s really too bad I don’t have him here right now. He’d be sober when I was done with him.”

Sheri Jean took a step back. “You, um, don’t suffer fools lightly, do you?”

“Not when we’re dealing with murder.”

“I saw that cloth and that shoe and the ring. But it’s so hard to believe.” Sheri Jean gestured at the lobby, warm, gracious, the epitome of hospitality. “Nobody liked Priscilla, but she wasn’t that bad. She wasn’t worth killing.”

Kellen watched Sheri Jean as she said, “Maybe she got into something she shouldn’t have.”

“That’s possible. She wanted whatever she couldn’t have.” Sheri Jean looked both impatient and sorry.

Kellen couldn’t discern anything from that. “Is there anyone you can call to cover for Lewis and Lena?”

“I need someone to serve at tonight’s Shivering Sherlocks event.” Sheri Jean eyed Kellen. “Carson Lennex is hosting. Have you been up to the penthouse?”

“No. But I’m functioning on three hours of sleep and—”

“I already told Carson you had agreed to do it.”

Kellen could hardly contain her irritation. “You suggested me to Carson Lennex?”

“Actually, he suggested you to me. I believe he likes you.”

Kellen’s heart sank. “Likes me?”

“Don’t worry. He never plays footsie with the staff—Priscilla Carter tried to get him involved in a romp, and that’s one of the things that got her in trouble. But he does have staff he prefers to deal with. I’m one of them.” Sheri Jean settled into smug satisfaction. “Apparently you are likely to be another. It’s a good thing—I promise.”

Kellen was too tired to be diplomatic. “Why?”

“He’s interesting, he’s genuine, he never asks for much in the way of labor, he has great friends and throws fabulous parties.”

And he steals toilet paper. Kellen sealed her lips tightly over that one.

Sheri Jean continued, “Look, this year he’s involved with the Shivering Sherlocks and their little game. He’s paying for the party, he’ll pose for photos with them and Lord knows he’s not getting anything out of it except a chance to chat with a bunch of older women. I swear, the man is almost too good to be true.”

Sheri Jean didn’t often enthuse. In fact, enthusing was the opposite of Sheri Jean’s usual behavior, and that alone increased Kellen’s suspicions.

Kellen said, “All right. I’ll serve.”

Sheri Jean indicated Jasmine, who was making inroads into the finger sandwiches. “You’d better have some lunch.”

Nils Brooks joined Jasmine at the side table and grabbed an apple and a cookie, then with a glance at Kellen and Sheri Jean, he ducked away.

“Authors,” Sheri Jean said in disgust. “I thought he was going into isolation to write a book, but every time I turn around, he’s here talking to somebody who could be doing real work.”

“Writer’s block,” Kellen said.

“I don’t get it. If you want to write a book, just write it.” Sheri Jean shrugged him off. “Now, you—you look like death.”

Kellen winced.

Sheri Jean said, “Sorry. But this is the first time since I’ve been here that we’ve discovered a body.”