“How far does that walking trail go?” Ethan asked, gesturing at the Riverwalk.
For me, one of the best parts of the downtown was the Riverwalk, which ran along the waterfront with all the tall black walnut and elm trees that lined the shore. “The trail begins up by the old warehouses at the point,” I said. “Then runs past the downtown shops and businesses, all the way out beyond the marina.”
If Lewis Wallace made a deal with the city, one of those warehouses would be home to his company.
Derek was waiting out front of the St. James with his guitar. He looked tired, with sooty dark circles under his eyes and lines pulling at the corners of them. There was a tiny bit of stubble on his chin that he’d missed shaving.
“How’s the song coming?” I asked.
“Umm, slowly,” he said.
“You want me to take a look at what you have so far?” Ethan asked.
Derek shook his head. “Give me a little more time to chew on it.”
Ethan shrugged. “No problem.”
Melanie Davis was waiting for us at the front desk. Melanie and I had originally met when I’d had to collect an intoxicated Burtis Chapman—Brady’s dad—and Marcus’s father, Elliot Gordon, from the hotel bar, where, lubricated with a fair amount of alcohol, they had been entertaining the customers with their vocal skills. When she joined the library board I was glad to get to know her in less embarrassing circumstances.
“Melanie, this is my brother, Ethan,” I said, “and you already know Derek Hanson.”
She smiled. “Ethan, it’s good to meet you, and Derek, it’s good to meet you in person.” Melanie was about my height, curvy with smooth brown skin, dark eyes and gorgeous corkscrew curls to her shoulders.
“It’s good to meet you, too,” Ethan said.
Derek simply nodded.
Melanie turned to me. “Kathleen, do you mind me showing Derek and Ethan their meeting room first and then we can go to my office?”
“That’s fine with me,” I said.
She led us across the lobby and down a hallway to the left. Derek had his guitar. Ethan carried his own guitar and a messenger bag I knew was full of papers. We stopped at a door at the end of the hall. I knew the room had big windows that overlooked the garden in the back of the hotel and would fill the space with light. It would be a great place for the workshop.
Melanie pulled out a set of keys. “These are the original doors.” She raised an eyebrow. “They add ‘character,’ so there’s a key as well as a code. Once we check the setup of the room I’ll input a temporary code the two of you can use for the day to secure the room at lunchtime if you want to leave for a while.”
“Thank you,” Ethan said.
“I should warn you that there are no security cameras in this part of the hotel. They’re coming once the renovation work makes it to this floor.”
“You’re upgrading the entire building,” I said.
She nodded. “Right now, they’re working on the floor above us. I actually have a temporary office on this main floor.” She pointed north down another corridor. “My office and several others are getting a face-lift. All the executive offices will be together and we’re getting two renovated washrooms. And eventually all of these old doors will be replaced with a keycard system.”
“You’ll lose a little character,” I said.
“The downside of updates,” she said. She gestured at the meeting room door. “The tables and chairs are set up the way we talked about and there’s a big whiteboard,” Melanie continued. “We can also get you a couple of smaller portable ones if you think you’ll need them.”
“Umm, no, one should be fine,” Ethan said.
“One of the kitchen staff will bring hot water and coffee about fifteen minutes before you start,” Melanie continued as she put the key in the lock. “They’ll bring more hot water and fresh coffee before you begin your afternoon session.” She glanced over her shoulder at us. “In my experience people like to get a cup of coffee or tea before they get started.” She swung the paneled door open and then froze in the open doorway, her breath catching in her throat. I took a couple of steps closer to see what was wrong with the meeting room.
The problem wasn’t the room. The problem was Lewis Wallace slumped at one of the tables. Even from where I was standing it was pretty clear he was dead.
chapter 4
The color had drained from Melanie’s face. “We have to do something,” she said, taking a step forward. I caught her arm and she turned to look at me, clearly confused. “Kathleen, that’s . . . that’s . . .” She stopped and swallowed hard. “I know him. His name . . .” She cleared her throat. “His name is Lewis Wallace.”
“He’s past our help,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s going on?” Ethan asked, a frown creasing his forehead. He leaned sideways a bit and because he was taller he could see Wallace’s body. He swore softly under his breath. “Kathleen, is that . . . ?”
I nodded. “Call nine-one-one,” I said. “Please.”
“Are you positive he’s . . . dead?” Ethan asked. “Someone should make sure.”
“I’ll uh . . . I’ll check.” The way Wallace’s body was slumped over at the table, the mottled color of the skin on the side of his face that was visible told me he’d been dead for a while, but I made my way over to him and felt for a pulse at his neck. As I’d expected, I didn’t find one. This wasn’t my first dead body.
I glanced back over my shoulder at Ethan and shook my head.
He nodded, took a few steps away from us and pulled out his phone.
I took a quick look around the meeting room. There was a box from Sweet Things on the table. A chair was overturned and I saw pieces of a broken glass on the floor next to Wallace’s feet. Had Wallace done that or had there been some sort of struggle with someone else?
Across the room I spotted what looked like an orange-capped pen against the leg of the whiteboard stand. Nothing else seemed to be out of place. I stepped back and pulled the door shut.
Melanie seemed to have regained her composure. She swallowed a couple of times and stood up a little straighter. “I’m sorry, Kathleen,” she said. She cleared her throat and stared at the closed door. “I’ve just never seen a dead body before.”
I gave her arm a squeeze. “It’s okay,” I said. She’d said she knew Lewis Wallace. I wondered what their connection was.
As if she’d read my thoughts, she turned her gaze back to me. “I . . . worked with Lew, briefly, years ago. Before he showed up here at the hotel a few days ago I hadn’t seen him in years.”
Ethan walked back over to us. “The police are on their way.”
“Someone should meet them at the front entrance,” Melanie said. “This is going to be upsetting for some of the guests. I, uh . . . I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to tell them.”
“If anyone asks all you have to say is that a guest was taken ill,” I said. “It’s true as far as any of us know at the moment.”
Melanie nodded. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.” She looked at the door. “I should probably lock that just to be safe.”
“Good idea,” I said.
Melanie relocked the door. She smoothed her black pencil skirt. “I’m going to wait out front,” she said. “If any of the staff show up just send them out to find me.”
Ethan couldn’t seem to stop moving. He’d been pacing back and forth in the hallway, hands going to the cord bracelet around his wrist, to his phone, raking through his hair, picking at his shirt. He looked at me now. “That Wallace guy, he’s dead dead? For real? Are you sure?”
I looked at him without speaking and he seemed to remember who he was talking to. “Never mind. I’m sorry. Forget it,” he said, waving one hand in the air as though he were trying to wave the words away.