BRONZED BETRAYALS Read online

  She was flipping channels between morning news shows when I entered the lounge.

  “Everyone has covered the murder,” she said.

  “We know,” I replied, moving into the kitchen and refilling my mug. “Lincoln called for a sound bite at six thirty this morning.”

  “I’ve only heard your name mentioned a few times. Usually, they just say Melanie was found by the person checked into the hotel room, or words to that effect. Mostly they’re reporting a dead woman was found in the hotel room of another guest.”

  I looked at my Twitter feed, swiping the screen on my phone to see dozens of tweets that included my Twitter handle. “Well, the news programs may be keeping me incognito for the moment, but that damned blue bird on the internet isn’t.”

  “Another reason you should wait until I can go with you to do the walk through of your hotel suite.” Jack picked up where our arguing had left off. “Too many people know it happened in your lounge, and the space is still a crime scene anyway. You’ll only be allowed in to give your impressions and possibly grab a few things. They don’t need you there first thing.”

  “Except I want to get that part of the day out of the way as soon as possible,” I said. “Cassie has already volunteered to go with me.”

  She hadn’t, of course, but she picked up the cue instantly and nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Jack pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Timms, and see—”

  “No.” I put my hand over the screen. “Please. Let us take care of this while you work on the angles we can’t. I’ve already contacted Thomas Banks and he’ll drive us there.” Thomas was a cabbie we’d met and been impressed with several weeks ago. His observation skills and military experience had made him my go-to driver ever since. “Cassie will be with me the entire time, as well as the police. I’ll text you when we’re ready to leave and we’ll regroup. Besides, you need to go home and change clothes before you head into the office to match wits with Cecil.”

  He sighed and looked down at his wrinkled shirt. “Are you going with me to check out videos with Williams?”

  “Again, I think that might be risking detection. You can get him to skip ahead to the second thief a lot faster if I’m not there to make him think the first one looks familiar.”

  “I get it. But something tells me you need to see the files too.”

  “Can you get Danny to email them to you? Use Dropbox or whatever? We can all watch them together later.”

  He nodded. “Brilliant. I’ll get it sorted with Williams. If not, I’ll schedule time with you and have it set up to begin right at the flight of the second thief.” He scratched his right eyebrow with a thumbnail. “Are you sure you didn’t notice anything distinctive?”

  I shook my head. “Just that she moved gracefully. And the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced she was very young. Early twenties at the most.” I shrugged. “Remember, I didn’t have the best observation post, and my handy-dandy dental mirror offered limited scope.”

  Thomas arrived, and Jack spent a few minutes bringing him up to speed while Cass and I filled to-go cups and armed the alarm. We’d just slid into the backseat when Jack’s cab arrived.

  Morning traffic was stop and go, but Thomas pulled into the traffic circle outside my hotel within half an hour. I didn’t see any unmarked Met police cars I’d noticed the night before, but we were a few minutes early.

  “We’ll wait in the lobby until the inspector arrives,” I said. “Thomas, I’ll give you a call—”

  “Jack already paid me for the morning,” Thomas said, turning to look at us as he spoke. “I’ll find a place to park and be waiting for you.”

  “Good enough. Thank you.”

  Timms stood by the elevator when we walked into the lobby. So much for my arriving ahead.

  “Good morning, Miss Beacham.” He extended his hand and strode closer.

  “Good morning, Inspector.” I took his hand, then said, “This is my associate Cassie Dean. She’s come to help me look things over today and lend a little moral support.”

  “I called for the lift when I saw you come in,” he said, just as the elevator arrived. We stepped into the brass and wood box, and the DI added, “Your room is still a crime scene, I’m afraid. But if you’d like to take some of your personal items, we can work with you on that sort of thing.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I already have luggage packed for the postponed trip. That will likely be enough for me. You’re welcome to look through the bags before I leave.”

  “Very good.” He held out latex gloves. “If you wouldn’t mind…the rooms have been dusted for fingerprints, but we don’t want to add any new ones.”

  Cassie and I nodded, each taking a pair of gloves.

  Two uniformed constables were in the hallway of my floor. The shorter one opened the door to my suite as we neared. I smiled my thanks and led the way, then halted in my tracks.

  “Laurel?”

  I registered Cassie right behind me, and an arm going around my shoulders. “I…” Shaking my head, I came out of my daze. “Sorry.” I offered a light laugh. “Something came over me.”

  “Take your time, miss,” one of the constables said.

  “Yes,” Timms spoke up. “No hurry.”

  Cassie kept her arm around me and we took a slow turn through the first room. A police photographer was packing up equipment, and another crime scene tech was busy with some type of meter, but the room was a huge mess with fingerprint powder everywhere. As I walked, the DI spoke up again, “Take us through what you see, Miss Beacham—”

  “Laurel,” I said.

  “Laurel,” he corrected. Then he followed up with, “We’d like to know what is the same and what looks different. Let us know if there’s anything surprising for any reason.”

  The first surprise wasn’t one I knew they wanted to know. I felt violated. This is the second London hotel I’ve lived in for the last six months and in the near term I’d be changing places again after living here less than three months. I was sure for appearance’s sake that the hotel would be happy to change my room, but coming home to find someone dead on your floor—someone I knew, even if I never really liked her—tended to be a deal breaker for me. And beyond the murder, this was exactly like the first time I had to change hotels because I feared Rollie, or someone equally bad, had found my personal space. Where I lived. No, that’s not completely correct. I knew Rollie could have known where I lived because in late January and early February his grandfather, Moran, stayed in my hotel incognito for several days and I’d only noticed him as the man behind the newspaper in the lobby reading. I wasn’t convinced Moran gave Rollie the information, given the old man’s chivalrous nature toward me. However, finding Melanie in my room was different. On so many levels. Whether it was Rollie or Colle, there was more motive to dig out before we knew what, and who, we were dealing with in this incident.

  I couldn’t know the message for sure, only assumed the murder and leaving the body in my room was a way of showing me I could be gotten to at any time. That was the scariest possible message, and the fact I couldn’t even be sure who the messenger was made the situation more unsettling. One part of me believed Colle had Melanie killed because it made more sense. She’d been with him in January—I knew that even if I didn’t understand it. He would be more likely to know where she was last night. Yet I absolutely couldn’t rule out Rollie and/or any of Moran’s team. I’d been after them for so long, and my information had put so many of the thieves in prison over the last half-dozen years. The problem with this thinking was I still believed Moran had to be the one who hired the second thief last night. Too many angles to consider without real evidence.

  “Relax and look around,” Timms repeated behind me, and I realized I’d let my mind wander too long. He kept his voice at a Zen-like tone. “Look carefully for anything changed, for anything diffe
rent. Obviously, anything missing.”

  What I immediately noticed missing, of course, was the dead body in the middle of the room. The carpet was marked to show where the body had laid. Something told me, though, that wasn’t exactly what Timms had in mind when he said to look for anything different. I scanned this lounge room carefully, but I still didn’t feel like I was concentrating on anything. Lists continued streaming through my brain of everything but what I was supposed to focus on. Silly lists not worth mentioning.

  “I’m...I... Could I get a bottle of water from the refrigerator?” I asked, hugging my Prada closer.

  “Jenkins, would you please,” Timms ordered. The uniformed constable I remembered from last night hurried to the tiny fridge, then brought the cold bottle to me.

  “Just take it easy, Laurel.” Cassie grasped my left arm and moved her right hand from my shoulder to rub up and down my back. “Take your time.”

  I focused on the liquid traveling down my throat, then took a steadying breath. “I’m okay. Let’s do this.”

  Keeping well back from the marked spot on the floor where I’d last seen Melanie, I circled the room. Cassie stayed right beside me.

  The furnishings, of course, were the property of the hotel, and it was kind of embarrassing how small a personal stamp I’d put on the place. A few pens and a notepad were on the table-cum-desk, but my tablet wasn’t where I’d left it on an occasional table near the loveseat, plugged into the charger.

  “A ten-inch tablet was charging here when I left for the party,” I pointed at the table.

  Timms looked at the crime scene tech, who nodded. The DI said, “Anything electronic in the room was taken away for evidence testing. I’ll make sure it’s returned to you when the team is finished.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. There wasn’t much on the tablet. I mostly used it for books and articles, and since I’d had a laptop stolen last fall I hadn’t let the device vault my passwords for email. My searches might be interesting, but nothing damning. Nico usually did all that kind of digital snooping for me.

  I resumed my reconnaissance. The entertainment center wasn’t open, chiefly because I didn’t watch a lot of television. I’d left it closed, and that was how the unit stood now. A couple of magazines, London entertainment issues, peeked out from under the loveseat. I started to pick them up, but Timms stopped me.

  “We’d prefer—”

  “Of course.” I stepped back. “I’m sorry. I don’t need them or anything, but they were on the small table when I left. They apparently fell off, slid underneath, I suppose.”

  “Did you write in them?” Timms asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” I motioned toward Cassie. “We’ve been planning to see a couple of plays and upcoming museum shows. I got those to remind us what restaurants and things were around each venue. Nothing important.”

  Timms looked at the crime scene tech. “Go ahead and bag those, just in case.”

  We moved into the bedroom, and that was when I had a surprise moment. “My luggage is gone.”

  “For your trip?” Timms asked.

  I nodded and pointed to an area along the wall between the dresser and the door. “I packed before the party. I figured we’d be back late, and we had an early flight. I didn’t want to take a chance on forgetting something.”

  “Did you have your passport inside?”

  “No, I carry that in my purse. But I did have my ticket printout in the side pocket of the carryon bag. Otherwise, it was just clothes and shoes.”

  “What about jewelry?” Cassie asked.

  “Nothing important. Some costume pieces I like, but I can live without them. I have some jewelry of my mother’s, but I left those in the room safe.”

  “Why don’t you see if everything is still in the safe,” Timms suggested.

  “Okay.” I walked back to the entertainment center that looked like a standard piece of furniture but was actually unmovable, both bolted to the floor and affixed to the back wall. I opened the double doors, then pressed the point for the tension lock on the smaller door inside, next to the television, revealing the safe hidden behind. I caught myself chewing my lower lip as I punched in the code.

  “Oh good, the box is still there,” Cassie spoke for both of us as the steel door opened.

  I turned to Timms. “I was going to ask to take these anyway. Is that okay?” I opened the big jewelry box. “You’re welcome to catalog anything. And the smaller case just has bracelets.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I don’t see any problem with you taking these. I can’t see where they have any bearing on the investigation. But do check to be sure nothing is missing before proceeding.”

  The jewelry box and the items inside were relatively new treasures to me. Until a few months ago, they had been with Moran since my mother’s death. They were keepsakes my mother had left with Paul-Henrì, jewelry she wore when she was with him. When he died, Moran kept the items, intending to return them to me, he said. These pieces, and the photographs that were enclosed, were my first inkling about the reason for my troubled history with the man I’d been raised to believe was my father—or at least the man who always purported to be my father, despite keeping a distance between us almost as wide as the Atlantic. Something else Jack and I were intending to look into in conjunction with returning to New York to investigate my mother’s death. Though I had no idea how to prove one way or the other since we didn’t have any comparable DNA for either of the two men who could have fathered me. All I knew for sure was that I looked just like my mother.

  Everything inside the big box was untouched, and I opened the clamshell case I used to store the jewel toned bangle bracelets my mother loved to wear. I also made sure the photos were in place, but I moved the large one quickly, so DI Timms couldn’t get a good look at it. The smaller one still held the creases where it had been folded for some time in my mother’s compact, but it was still safely on the bottom of the case where I’d left it.

  “Everything is here.”

  I looked around the room, but nothing stood out as different. Cassie moved to my closet and pulled down one of the large heavy paper shopping bags I saved on the top shelf.

  “Set those in here so you don’t have to worry about dropping anything,” she said.

  “Thank you.” Now that my luggage was gone, it looked like I’d be using the rest of the stored bags to carry away any clothes I had left in my closet. I joined her and opened the doors wide, perusing the meager fare left behind on hangers and a small shelf. “Most of my good things were packed in my suitcases. Should I take the rest of my clothes? Or do I need to wait for the all clear?”

  Timms walked closer, saw how little encompassed my wardrobe, then gave a brisk nod. “I don’t see any reason we’d need your clothing. But if anything else is missing, please let me know immediately.”

  “I’ll pack up these things for you, Laurel, and you can check the bath,” Cassie suggested.

  “Thank you.”

  Naturally, it didn’t take long in the tiny bathroom. I grabbed up what few things I had in there with Timms’s continued approval, and by the time I exited I saw Cassie bagging up the last of my shoes. I was once again carrying my belongings around in shopping bags, exactly like this London adventure started in September. Six months and too much of my life was still transient and unchanged—except back then my belongings were winging their way to Lake Tahoe for a vacation I still hadn’t had time to take. I had no idea where my AWOL luggage would land this time.

  I felt a migraine starting and didn’t know if it was due to not enough sleep, too much stress, or way too many surprises. Probably a combination of all the above. There likely were more items that belonged to me in the suite, but I didn’t feel up to crawling around to look under the bed or checking the narrow crevasses between furniture.

  Since I’d given what little inpu
t I could about the room and retrieved enough of my own things to keep me marginally clothed, I mentally crossed fingers and asked DI Timms, “I can’t see anything else to mention, but I will call if something comes to me later. Do you need us here longer? Or would it be okay for Cassie and me to leave?”

  Timms nodded. “Absolutely. You’ve provided us the information we need. I’ll let you know if we need you to come by again. I spoke to Superintendent Whatley early this morning, and he assured me that yours and Miss Dean’s fingerprints are safely in the system. As long as you stay in London, Miss Beacham, I think we’re finished for the time being.”

  But when we headed for the door, he added, “I do need contact information about where you’ll be staying. I spoke to the hotel manager and she’s eager to help you relocate to another room if you’d like.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be staying with friends for a few days at least, Inspector. When I know a location for sure, I’ll send you a text with all the contact information. In the meantime, feel free to call me at any of the numbers on my card.”

  “Very good. Thank you.”

  I texted Thomas when we were in the elevator and told him we’d be in the lobby momentarily. He texted back he’d be waiting for us.

  “Why do you think they took your luggage?” Cassie asked.

  “Maybe they saw my ticket printout and thought my passport was in there as well.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the inspector, but…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “The locked case you keep in your closet with all your special devices was gone.”

  I shook my head. “That’s the only thing I took after I found Melanie dead on the floor. Well, that case and the Prada. I honestly thought about grabbing my luggage, but figured I needed to travel light. I ducked into my closet, scooped up the purse and case and lit out.”