Read Online Murder With Reservations by Elaine Viets - Free Book Online Page B

“Probably a little ankle biter, but I’m not going in there. I’m a maid, not a postal worker. I’ll tell the front desk. The guests sneaked in that animal to avoid the twenty-five-dollar pet fee.”
    Any other day, Helen would have laughed. But the growling dog made her more jittery. It was something else she didn’t expect when she wanted no surprises. Helen was so rattled, she pulled the sheets off a bed she’d already made.
    Every time Cheryl’s walkie-talkie squawked, Helen jumped or dropped something. Denise, the head housekeeper, kept her alerted to Rob’s progress. She called Cheryl’s walkie-talkie every half hour. Rob was in his room at nine, nine thirty and ten that morning. Ditto for ten, ten thirty and eleven. At noon he finally emerged from 210, looking freshly showered and shaved. Denise called upstairs, and Helen hid in an empty guest room until she gave the all-clear.
    When Rob’s car was gone for twenty minutes, Denise searched his room. She came upstairs to deliver her report. “Your ex wears expensive clothes, throws his socks on the floor, leaves beer cans by the bed and has a woman’s phone number on the dresser.”
    “Nothing has changed,” Helen said. “He’s still skirt chasing. At least he’s single now.”
    “He’s taking Rogaine, too. He’s losing his hair.”
    “Good.” Helen felt a small, secret satisfaction. Rob was proud of his thick blond hair.
    “What’s the unlucky woman’s name?” Helen said.
    “Juliana,” Denise said. “I wrote down her phone number.”
    That was the dress shop where Helen used to work. She felt dizzy with relief. The former boutique was now a coal-fired-pizza place. “Thank God,” Helen said. “Juliana isn’t a woman. It’s where I worked four or five jobs ago. There’s no way Rob can trace me from that number. The dress shop is out of business.”
    “Oh, that Juliana,” Denise said. “I remember reading about it in the newspapers. Or maybe I saw it on TV. Wasn’t there a murder there?”
    A murder. And a trial. Helen’s testimony didn’t make the paper, but some of her coworkers’ did. Her ex could find the details in the old newspapers at the library. He could track down the shop’s staff and find Helen. She frantically ran through her mental files. Who had testified? The owner was in Canada. One coworker was dead. But there was Tara. Right. Helen had to call Tara and warn her. She would be an easy target for Rob’s greasy charm.
    “Quick! I need to use the pay phone in the lobby,” Helen said. “Will you stand guard for me? There’s someone I have to warn, a woman from my old job. Rob may be able to find her.”
    “Use my cell,” Cheryl said.
    Helen looked up Tara’s home number in a guest room phone book and punched it in with fear-clumsy fingers. There was no answer. Good, she thought. If I can’t reach her, neither can Rob.
    She didn’t leave Tara a message. Helen didn’t want the former saleswoman to know her current job. Rob might be a flirtatious old white guy, but Tara was susceptible to old white guys, especially if they looked rich. Rob would look rich even when he was down to his last dime.
    “No luck,” Helen said, and handed the phone back to Cheryl.
    She tried to work, but she was useless. In room 317 Helen knocked over a half-full can of Pepsi. The sticky liquid ran over the edge of the dresser and dripped onto the carpet. Helen tried to wipe it up, and smeared it further.
    “Good thing this room is a checkout,” Cheryl said, scrubbing the stained carpet. “There would be hell to pay if you spilled soda on a guest’s belongings.”
    When she finished rescuing the dresser and the carpet, Cheryl gave Helen her cell phone. “Try again,” she said. “You won’t be any good until you reach that woman.”
    Helen called. Still no answer. She didn’t have Tara’s cell phone number. She imagined a hundred disastrous scenarios, each one a horror movie starring Rob. In The Great Giveaway, she saw Tara