Paint the Town Dead Page 7

  “She’s in the hotel manager’s office. I thought it was the best place for her. He’s plying her with coffee. What are you two doing in here?”

  “Peter wanted me to pack up Jasmine’s things. What’s your excuse?”

  “Just doing my job. Your friend’s death seems a little suspicious to me so I thought I’d take a look around.” Veronica repositioned the two tote bags on her shoulder.

  “How did you get in?” Rory’s eyes narrowed. “How did you even know which room was hers?”

  The reporter nodded at Rory’s left hand. “You told me yourself.”

  Rory looked down at the back of her hand where she’d written the hotel room number in felt-tip pen. She guessed it didn’t take much of an imagination to figure out what the number meant. She frowned. “How did you say you got in? You don’t have a key, do you?”

  Veronica grinned. “I have my ways.”

  Remembering the maid they passed in the hallway, Rory suspected the reporter had charmed her way inside the room.

  “Do you think you could put that bolster down?” Veronica pointed to the pillow Liz was still holding threateningly in the air. “You’re making me nervous.”

  Rory and Liz both returned their pillows to the bed, then Rory said to the snooping reporter, “How much of the room did you search? Did you find anything?”

  “Not really. Maybe you’ll have better luck.” Veronica waggled her fingers in a goodbye gesture and turned toward the exit.

  The woman was almost at the door when Rory spotted an empty five-by-seven picture frame on one of the nightstands. “Wait! Did you steal a photo?”

  Veronica backtracked and drew a picture out of one of the tote bags slung across her shoulder. “It’s just a picture of Jasmine and her husband. I was going to scan it in and post it on my blog. I don’t know what you’re getting all tweaked out about. I was planning on returning it later.”

  Rory grabbed the five-by-seven out of the reporter’s hand. “If you want something like this, don’t just take it, ask her husband. I’m sure he’ll be happy to give you one.”

  Veronica grumbled all the way down the hallway.

  Once the door closed behind the woman, Rory returned the picture to the frame, then surveyed the room. “We should conduct our own search while we pack up Jasmine’s things. Why don’t you take the bathroom, and I’ll look around in here. Maybe Veronica and the police missed something.”

  While Liz explored the bathroom, Rory checked out the bed area. A quick inspection of the nightstand drawers revealed nothing of interest. She opened the closet door, dragged the suitcase and carry-on she found out onto the bed, and checked the pockets in the empty luggage. The only things she uncovered were a small lime green TSA lock and a nail file. Once she was sure the suitcase and carry-on were completely empty, she started putting items into them. She carefully folded Jasmine’s clothes, placing the picture frame on top of them in the suitcase, then checked everywhere she could think of—the floor of the closet, the dresser drawers, between the box spring and mattress, under the bed. When she spotted the in-room safe in the corner of the closet, she thought for a moment she’d struck pay dirt. But, when she went to examine it, the safe’s door swung open, revealing the emptiness within.

  Rory was finishing her sweep of the room when Liz emerged from the bathroom with a makeup bag and bottles of lotion. “Found a bunch of makeup and beauty products. Nothing unusual. Where should I put these?”

  “In the carry-on.” Rory pointed to the purple bag on the bed beside her.

  After Liz packed the bathroom items, she turned to Rory and said, “The bathroom’s clear. Didn’t see anything suspicious.”

  “Did you look everywhere? Even the toilet tank?”

  “First place I looked. That’s where I’d hide something if I didn’t want anyone to find it.”

  “That’s it, then.” Rory surveyed the room one last time. “I think that’s all we can do. I’ll let Peter know everything’s packed and see what he wants me to do with it all.” She exchanged a series of texts with Jasmine’s husband, who thanked her and told her to leave everything in the room for now. After stashing the suitcase and carry-on in the closet, they left, locking the hotel door securely behind them, and parted ways in the lobby.

  Rory headed toward her next class, but when she stepped inside the ballroom and stared at the group patiently waiting for the Rosemaling class to begin, she knew she was too preoccupied to stay. She collected the pattern packet and painting surface and immediately left the ballroom along with two other students who had the same idea.

  After making sure she wasn’t needed on the trade show floor, she drove out of the hotel parking lot and headed toward Peter’s house to check on him, stopping off at a grocery store along the way. When she rang the bell, Peter answered looking more human than he had earlier that day. He still had dark circles under his eyes, but he’d showered, shaved and dressed.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at the convention?” he asked.

  “Doesn’t seem as much fun since...you know.”

  “What’s this?” He nodded toward the grocery bag Rory held in her arms.

  “Brought you a few things. I noticed you didn’t have much food in the refrigerator. I’ve got frozen dinners, a barbecued chicken, and fruit.”

  Peter took the bag from her and motioned Rory inside. “Thanks. We were just on our way out.”

  She followed him into the kitchen where she found Brandy putting away her own groceries.

  “Guess we had the same idea,” Rory said to her friend.

  “Between the two of you, I won’t starve, that’s for sure.” Peter set the grocery bag he was holding down on the kitchen island and gave each of them a grateful smile. “We were just heading out to make some...arrangements.”

  “Have they finished the autopsy, then?” Rory asked in a subdued voice, a little surprised the coroner had finished so quickly.

  Brandy closed the refrigerator door. “No. Peter just wanted to start the process so we’d be ready when they release her. Neither of us have ever done this before.”

  Rory nodded in sympathy. She dreaded the time when she would have to make similar arrangements for someone she loved. “I can go along if you want. Provide moral support.”

  Peter shook his head. “We’re okay. Besides, afterwards, we’re going to run through our routines one last time before tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Rory looked at the two of them, puzzled.

  “The tango competition.”

  “You didn’t drop out?” Rory said in surprise.

  “We were going to,” Brandy said. “But Peter wanted to continue. For Jasmine.”

  “She did enjoy seeing you dance.” Rory cleared her throat. “I talked to Detective Green. He was asking about our class. I thought I’d help him track her movements Tuesday and Wednesday.”

  “Why? I thought it was an accidental overdose,” Brandy said.

  “The police haven’t confirmed that yet. They’re still testing her medicine,” Rory replied.

  “It’s okay. If it helps the police figure out what happened...” Peter stared down at the granite countertop as if collecting his thoughts. “Of course you know about Monday evening. She checked into the hotel that night right before dinner, so I don’t know much about where she was Tuesday or Wednesday. She called me during your class yesterday, told me about the fire alarm. Tuesday evening she worked the trade show floor. You probably saw her there. Before that she had a meeting with Nixie.”

  “About the books for the convention?”

  “That’s right. Nixie wanted to go over a few things. Jasmine called me before the meeting.”

  “Oh?” Rory said. “How was she?”

  “Excited about working in the booth. Did the detective have anything else to say?”

  “Not really. It’s what he didn’t say that bothers me.”

  “What do you mean?” Peter asked, a confused expression on his face.

  “I was su
re he was holding something back. When I asked him about it, he told me to ask you, Peter. Do either of you know what he meant by that?” Rory looked from Peter to Brandy and back again.

  The two of them shared a look that made Rory wonder if they were hiding something. Finally, Brandy said, “You’d better tell her.”

  “Tell me what?”

  With his finger, Peter traced a square on the countertop. “Jaz tried to commit suicide once. Pills.”

  Rory’s legs wobbled, and she braced herself against the kitchen island. “When was this?”

  “A year ago,” he said. “That would make it a couple months after you moved here.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “We didn’t want to bother you. You’d just found out about your birth parents. We figured you had enough to deal with,” Brandy said.

  When Rory learned her birth parents were serial arsonists responsible for numerous fires and a few deaths around Vista Beach, she’d mentioned her discovery to them, but hadn’t expected her childhood friends to keep her out of the loop because of it. “I wish you’d told me.” She looked at Peter. “Jasmine had been dealing with her condition for almost fifteen years. Why, all of a sudden, did she try suicide?”

  Peter stared down at the granite countertop. “We were going through a rough patch. Her condition wasn’t easy to live with for either of us. One day she found it to be too much, I guess.”

  “The doctor in the ER asked about suicide. Why didn’t you say anything?” Rory asked.

  “That was all in the past. It has nothing to do with this. She went into therapy and was doing so much better. Our marriage was good. The new medication was working. Her cataplexy was under better control, and she didn’t nod off as often as she used to. There’s no way she’d try to kill herself again.”

  Rory turned to Brandy. “What do you think?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, the young woman said, “I don’t think she’d do that. She was too excited about the convention and moving here.”

  Peter looked at the two of them. “I wonder how the police found out about her suicide attempt. I never told them.”

  Brandy’s mouth dropped open. “I didn’t tell them because I thought you had. Why didn’t you? That’s something they should know.”

  Peter’s face turned red. “I was protecting her memory. She never wanted anyone to know. She felt so embarrassed about it. Guess that was stupid of me to keep it from the police.”

  Brandy patted his arm. “Understandable under the circumstances. They know now, that’s what’s important.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’d better get going. We have that appointment. Peter, why don’t you put away the rest of the groceries, and I’ll walk Rory out.”

  As soon as they were outside with the front door closed behind them, Brandy turned to her friend, a sad look on her face.

  “I wish Jasmine were still here. I miss her already. You’ve talked with the detective in charge of her case. What do you think happened?”

  “She was too careful about her medication. I can’t believe it was an accidental overdose. There’s something wrong about her death,” Rory said.

  “Maybe the pharmacy screwed up and it was just a horrible accident.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Whatever it is, I hope the police come to a conclusion soon. Not knowing is killing Peter.”

  “What about you? How are you doing? It seems stressful enough taking care of your aunt, and now this.”

  “It’s not easy, but nothing compared to what Peter’s going through.”

  “If you ever need a break and want me to stay with your aunt, let me know.”

  “My mom and I have it covered, but thanks.” Brandy waved goodbye and walked over to where Peter was locking the front door.

  Rory headed to her car. Before she’d talked to her friends, she would have sworn Jasmine would never try to commit suicide. She still wasn’t convinced that’s what happened this time. Jasmine deserved the benefit of the doubt. Rory hadn’t been there for her when she needed her before. She intended to be there now.

  Rory put her car in gear and headed back to the hospital to learn as much as she could about the medication her friend had overdosed on.

  Chapter 10

  As soon as she entered the ER, Rory’s body tensed. She had to fight the urge to run back to her car and drive as far away and as fast as possible. After a few deep breaths, she pushed the bad memories to the back of her mind and stood in line at the reception desk. She relayed her request to talk with the doctor who had treated her friend, then settled down in a chair, flipping through a celebrity magazine to pass the time. She’d almost given up when Dr. Kendrick came through the double doors and walked toward her.

  “You wanted to see me?” The light of recognition dawned in the woman’s eyes. “You were here yesterday, weren’t you? Your friend, Ms....Halliday, was it? I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks. I was wondering if you had time to answer a few questions. I’m trying to understand what happened.”

  The doctor glanced at her watch. “I have a few minutes.” She looked around as if searching for somewhere more private to talk. “Let’s go over here.” She moved over to the side of the room, as close to the wall and as far away from people as possible. “This will have to do. Now, what did you want to know?”

  “I was reading online about this medicine she took, Xyrem. I understand it’s a form of GHB.”

  The doctor gave an almost imperceptible wince at the word “online,” but didn’t chastise Rory for conducting medical research on the internet. “That’s right.”

  “From what I understand, she took her medicine at night. If she took too much the night before she died, could that have caused her collapse the following day? Hours after she had taken it?”

  “As you’re probably aware, absorption of any medication depends on a lot of factors. But, in my opinion, she would have shown problems long before she was brought in. She probably wouldn’t even have woken up. That’s assuming she took it when she was told to, of course. She might have missed a dose and taken it later during the day even though she wasn’t supposed to. People aren’t always smart when it comes to medication. For the one your friend was on, most people fall asleep within five to ten minutes of taking it.”

  That confirmed what she read online, Rory thought. “What about the medicine itself? Could there be something wrong with it?”

  “Doubtful, but it’s a possibility. If that’s what happened, the police will figure it out.” Dr. Kendrick touched Rory on the arm in a sympathetic gesture. “I’m really sorry about your friend. I know you want a definitive answer, but I’m not sure anything I can say will give you the closure you’re looking for. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “I think that’s it. Thanks for your time, Doctor. I appreciate it.”

  The doctor gave Rory a pat on the arm and a reassuring smile, then headed back through the double doors.

  Rory leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, thinking about what Doctor Kendrick had said. If the effects were felt so soon, Jasmine must have taken the medicine during class or right before she returned to the ballroom after the all-clear for the fire alarm was given. Rory couldn’t remember seeing her take anything, but she wasn’t watching her every move. Since they’d found no medication in Jasmine’s shoulder bag, she must have taken it outside of the classroom. Rory added find out where Jasmine was during fire alarm to her mental to-do list.

  She drove back to the hotel, stopping off at the fire station to talk with the paramedics who treated her friend. They willingly answered her questions, but could tell her nothing she didn’t already know. Less than ten minutes after that, she walked into the lobby of the Akaw. Almost as soon as she stepped inside, Ian rushed over to her.

  “Finally! Where have you been?” he said. “I’ve called and texted for the last hour.”

  Rory checked her phone, but didn’t see any texts or mi
ssed calls from his number. “I didn’t get any of them. Sorry. I’m here now, what’s going on?”

  “No one can get to the hotel website. People are complaining.”

  She entered the website address into her phone’s browser, hoping it was a temporary glitch and the site was once again available. But that hope was crushed moments later when she discovered it was still inaccessible. She opened her mouth to explain what she thought the problem was, but he held up his hand and stopped her from talking.

  “Before you start spouting all kinds of technical jargon, let me say that I don’t care what the problem is. Just fix it. All I care about is guests and potential customers being able to access the site.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  Rory spent time on the phone with the website’s hosting provider, dealing with the issue. By the time they resolved the problem, only five minutes remained before the silk painting class she’d signed up for was scheduled to begin. She settled into the seat Liz saved for her, put on her apron and set out her supplies.

  Her friend looked at her inquiringly. “I almost gave up on you. Where have you been?”

  Rory nodded toward the front where the teacher was poised to begin. “I’ll tell you after class,” she whispered.

  As she painted, her mind drifted off so often, she lost track of how many times she needed to ask Liz what they were doing. By the time the teacher had covered every step, Rory’s project was only halfway done, but she didn’t have the patience to stay in the room and finish it.

  “That looks nice.” Rory nodded at the silk scarf covered in poppies and butterflies her friend had painted. “Mine’s a lost cause. Let’s go.”

  The two of them packed up their supplies and headed to the lobby, where they found a quiet corner to talk. Rory quickly brought her friend up to date on the website problems and the information she’d obtained from the emergency room doctor.

  “Ian’s pretty mad at me,” Rory said.

  “The website stuff wasn’t your fault. Didn’t you say it was a, what did you call it, denial of something or other?”