Murder At The Hotel
CRIME SHORT STORY BY ALYSON HILBOURNE
If Maggie could find the motive, she was sure she could track down the killer…
The wheels of the car crunched on the gravel drive as the taxi pulled up at the entrance to the hotel.
The driver got out and lifted Maggie’s suitcase from the back.
“Thank you,” she said, handing him some notes. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” The driver touched his forehead then got back into the car and drove off.
Maggie dragged the case up the steps and into the reception area of the hotel.
Once on the tiled floor the case behaved and she wheeled it to the counter.
As she reached the desk, Maggie glimpsed a woman’s face staring at her from a doorway behind it.
Although she only saw it for a moment, the face appeared tear-stained and the eyes red-rimmed.
“It’s OK, Jackie. I’ll deal with this.”
The sad face disappeared as a woman’s voice, pleasant but firm, reached Maggie.
A woman in her thirties with clear blue eyes and an open expression emerged from the office and smiled broadly at her.
“Maggie Burns,” she introduced herself. “I have a room booked.”
The woman checked a computer screen.
“Oh, yes, Ms Burns. Here for a week. And a room booked from tomorrow for a Mrs Winchester?”
Maggie smiled.
“Yes. My sister.”
“Oh, that’s nice. A holiday together.”
Maggie looked down, thinking about Rowena.
She expected it would be nice for about five minutes, until Row began the usual lecture about what was wrong with Maggie’s life and what she could do to improve it.
Maggie had heard Rowena’s opinions many times over the years.
“She’s my older sister,” Maggie told the woman.
“Ah,” the woman said. “I have an older sister, too. She wants me to sell the hotel and says it’s too much work. She’s always trying to run my business.”
Maggie nodded.
“She sounds similar to my sister. But I’m sure we’ll be fine. We rub along for a week each year, somewhere neutral, and try not to step on each other’s toes.”
“Good luck!” The woman grinned. “I’m Stephanie, or Steph. Any problems, let me know and we’ll sort it out immediately.
“Now, shall I take your case up?”
Before Maggie could answer, Steph had come round the counter and taken hold of Maggie’s case.
“I’m fine. It’s one of those wheelie ones,” Maggie protested.
“It’s no problem. I’ll show you the room. This way.”
Steph led the way up a grand staircase with brass stair rods.
Large portraits hung from a picture rail above them.
“This used to be a family home, believe it or not,” Steph said, turning to Maggie. “But my father converted it into a hotel.”
“It must have been magnificent,” Maggie remarked.
“It must have taken some upkeep!” Steph replied. “We can barely manage with the staff we have. I could really do with the maids and gardeners the house had in the old days.”
She reached a door at the end of the passage and flung it open to a light airy room with a vase of roses on the table and a small four-poster bed.
“This is lovely!” Maggie exclaimed, walking across to the window. “I can see the sea.”
“It’s one of my favourite rooms,” Steph replied. “You have an en suite here. Be careful, as the water can be extremely hot.
“If you don’t want towels changed every day, can you hang them up, so we know?”
“Of course.” Maggie nodded. “Thank you.”
She smiled at Steph, who gave her a grin, put the key on the table and left.
Maggie unpacked slowly, put on her trainers and went back downstairs.
“Ms Burns?” Steph was back behind the counter in reception.
“Hello. I was going to have a look at the gardens before a cup of tea,” Maggie explained.
“Go out the back way,” Steph told her. “Through the garden room, then come back in that way for tea in the conservatory.”
Maggie spent an hour wandering the gardens.
There was an old walled area that was planted with vegetables and flowers, but the rest was given over to grass and broad cedar trees.
Against one of the walls was a large greenhouse, and along another a stone-built shed without windows and the doors padlocked shut.
At the front, where Maggie had arrived, was a swath of grass that led to the cliff edge.
She walked over and, despite the fence, found the drop made her giddy.
Later, in the dining-room only two other tables were occupied.
Maggie nodded at the other guests and chose a table by the window.
It was a sunny evening and she could see seagulls hovering above the cliff edge.
“Ms Burns?”
Maggie was startled by the voice.
Steph had crept up while she was watching the birds.
“Sorry to make you jump,” Steph apologised. “This is our menu. Lucas is a brilliant chef. If you want anything special, he can do it.
“As you can see, we’re not completely full.”
She gave a wry smile as she handed Maggie the menu.
Maggie read the choices, her mouth watering.
She was dithering between fish pie or poached salmon and asparagus, when she noticed Steph outside, putting out some chairs on the grass.
She disappeared for a few moments and then returned with cushions.
As Steph arranged the cushions a man approached, wearing a white T-shirt and white trousers partly covered by a navy apron.
The man, whom Maggie took to be the chef, Lucas, put his arms around Steph.
The two of them chatted, although Maggie couldn’t hear what was being said.
Then Lucas appeared to have upset Steph, as her hands went to her hips and she leaned forwards to reply.
He threw his hands up in the air and shook his head.
Steph snapped something back, then turned sharply to come back into the hotel.
The next moment, Steph had appeared in the
dining-room.
“Have you decided what you would like, Ms Burns?”
“Yes, please,” Maggie replied. “The salmon.”
Although she enjoyed her meal, for the rest of the evening, Maggie couldn’t get the picture of the argument out of her mind.
Maggie didn’t wake until almost eight thirty a.m. – very late for her.
She got up and went to the window to see what sort of day it was.
But as she pulled the curtains back, it wasn’t the sky she noticed but the police car parked below, by the porch.
She drew back from the window, a sense of foreboding pressing down on her.
Instead of showering, she dressed and went down into the dark reception area.
The woman she’d seen yesterday was standing behind the counter, one hand on her chest, fingers spread like a fan.
She was wearing a black skirt and a white shirt with a silk scarf round her neck.
Lucas stood in the middle of the room, ramrod straight, his fists clenched, shaking his head.
“No!” Maggie heard him cry, his voice rising.
Two uniformed policemen appeared to be trying to calm him down.
No-one noticed Maggie.
She hovered for a moment on the stairs, then slipped through the reception area to the dining-room.
One of the other couples were at the same table as they had been last night.
Their faces were tense.
“It’s Steph,” the man told Maggie. “She was found at the foot of the cliffs this morning by a dog walker.”
“What happened?” Maggie asked.
“We don’t know,” the man said. “The police arrived about ten minutes ago.”
Maggie swallowed and sat at the window where she’d been the previous evening and stared at the lawn.
A policeman was examining a section of fence.
It looked as if perhaps part of it was broken.
Then she noticed the chairs and cushions were still outside.
She frowned.
She felt sure with Steph’s attention to detail that she wouldn’t have left the cushions out overnight.
“Can I get you a drink?”
Maggie jumped at the voice.
Standing beside her was a girl in a checked dress with a white apron, her face streaked with tears.
“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry,” Maggie said.
The girl sniffed.
“I don’t think Lucas is doing breakfast. I can get you tea, coffee and toast?”
Maggie nodded.
“Tea and toast would be fine, thank you.”
Maggie sat in the dining-room until she saw the police car leave, then she went back into reception.
There was no sign of Lucas, but the other girl was behind reception.
“Do they know what happened?” Maggie asked.
“They said it looks like suicide, but there will be a post mortem,” the girl replied.
Maggie nodded.
“My sister is supposed to be arriving today. Are you keeping the hotel open?”
The girl looked like she had been taken by surprise.
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose that’s up to Lucas or Miss Chloe.”
“Miss Chloe?” Maggie put her head on one side.
“Miss Steph’s sister,” the girl explained. “She’s joint owner but she doesn’t run the hotel. Though I suppose she owns it now.”
“Jackie?” Maggie peered at the girl’s name tag.
“Yes?”
“I’ll be out in the garden when my sister arrives, if you can send her out that way, please.”
“Certainly, Ms Burns.”
Maggie was sitting on a bench in the sun in the walled garden when Rowena arrived an hour later.
“Row!” she cried, standing up as Rowena strode across to her.
“How many times, Margaret, do I have to ask you not to call me Row?” she snapped. “It’s not a name. And what are you doing out here?”
“It’s a lovely day and the garden is beautiful,” Maggie replied. “Besides, the hotel had a tragedy overnight. I didn’t want to sit inside.”
She explained to Rowena what she knew and how nice Steph had been.
“Why is it things always go wrong when you are around?” Rowena asked.
“I don’t think that’s fair,” Maggie protested.
Rowena’s expression implied she thought that Maggie had at least some part in it.
Maggie sighed. It was going to be a long week.
After an afternoon exploring the town, Maggie and Rowena returned to the hotel.
Dinner was a quiet affair. A heaviness hung over the hotel and one of the other couples appeared to have left, leaving only Maggie and Rowena and the couple from breakfast.
Rowena managed to chat away throughout the meal.
“Richard has been asked to be on the committee at the golf club, so he spends a lot of time there.”
Maggie bit her lip and wondered if that was Richard’s only reason for spending time at the club.
Then she chided herself for being unkind.
Rowena and Richard had been together for 40 years, although it stretched Maggie’s imagination to know what they had in common.
In the morning, Maggie woke to the sound of a police car on the gravel below her window.
She peeked out between the curtains and saw two plain-clothes officers get out, while a uniformed officer hovered by the car.
She showered and dressed slowly, reluctant to go downstairs.
More police could not be good news.
She was just brushing her hair when there was a sharp knock on the door.
“Margaret? Are you ready? I’m starving.”
She opened the door to Rowena, smartly dressed in matching trousers and sweater with her face made up and every hair in place.
Rowena gave Maggie a quick look up and down, thinned her lips and turned.
“Come on. Breakfast.”
Maggie pulled her door shut and followed Rowena down to the reception area.
“We need to talk to everyone who was here the night before last.” One of the plain-clothes policemen was speaking to Jackie.
Maggie saw Jackie swallow hard and noticed a tremor as she gripped the wooden counter.
“I’ll get the register,” Jackie replied. “One couple left yesterday, I’m afraid.”
“Come on, Margaret. It’s nothing to do with you,” Rowena hissed, marching past the policemen and into the dining-room.
They took the table in the window and Anna, the waitress, handed them a menu.
Rowena ordered a full English breakfast while Maggie opted for scrambled eggs.
But before their order had gone into the kitchen, Jackie came through from reception and whispered something to Anna.
Maggie saw her pale.
“I’ll just be a moment,” Maggie said to Rowena, and stood up.
Rowena made a disapproving sound but said nothing as Maggie slipped from the dining-room into reception.
“Hello,” Maggie said to one of the police officers. “I’ve been staying here for two nights now.”
The policeman turned to her and raised an eyebrow.
“Can you make yourself available this morning, then, please?” the officer asked.
“Of course,” Maggie said.
After breakfast, Maggie followed the officer inside to a small room.
The two plain-clothes officers were seated at a dining table, papers and an iPad in front of them.
“Thank you for coming in, Ms Burns,” one said. “I’m DI Winslade and this is DC Sparks. We’d like to ask you a few questions about anything you might have seen last Thursday evening.”
“I presume there is something you’re not happy with about Steph’s death?” Maggie asked.
The detective regarded her coolly.
“Things are inconclusive, so we’re making enquiries,” he said. “Now, I believe you arrived on Thursday. Can you tell me your movements?”
Maggie went through her arrival and her meeting with Steph, her walk round the garden and nap until dinnertime.
“Steph was putting out the chairs for coffee, I believe,” Maggie was saying, but then she stopped.
Should she tell the detective she’d seen Steph and Lucas arguing?
“Yes, Ms Burns?” the DI prompted her.
“While Steph was putting out cushions on the chairs,” Maggie continued, “the chef came over to her.”
The detective was watching her intently and Maggie felt herself warm.
“He is her fiancé, I believe,” he replied.
“Well, it looked like they might have been arguing,” she said. “Obviously I was inside and couldn’t hear anything.”
“I believe you have the room overlooking the front?” the detective asked.
Maggie nodded.
“You didn’t hear anything later on?” he asked.
Maggie shook her head.
“I was awake till quite late, but I didn’t hear anything.”
The detective made a note on his pad of paper.
“Well, thank you, Ms Burns. That’s very helpful. How long are you staying here?”
“Until next Thursday,” Maggie replied.
“We’ll make sure to find you if we need you.”
DI Winslade stood up and opened the door for her.
Maggie stepped into the gloom of the reception area.
Jackie was behind the desk and Lucas was leaning against the counter, his face strained.
Before anyone could speak, the front door was pushed open and a woman carrying a holdall entered.
“Lucas!” she cried, dropping the bag and rushing to give the chef a hug. “What happened?”
Maggie saw Lucas tense and then relax.
“The police think it was deliberate,” Lucas explained to the woman. “Something about the post mortem has made them suspicious. They are interviewing everyone.”
“That’s ridiculous,” the woman retorted.
As she stepped away from Lucas, Maggie saw a resemblance to Steph.
This must be the older sister, she thought.
“Everybody loved Steph. She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Chloe insisted.
“I know.” Lucas ran a hand through his hair.
“Don’t worry.” Chloe patted Lucas’s arm. “We’ll get this sorted. Now, what’s going on with the hotel? Do we have any guests?”
“It’s under control, Miss Chloe,” Jackie said. “There is one couple, and Ms Burns here with her sister.”
“Not too busy, then,” Chloe replied.
“We have workmen in.” Lucas raised a hand. “Some rooms are not available.”
“I hope there’s somewhere I can stay while we sort this out,” Chloe remarked.
“Oh, yes, Miss Chloe,” Jackie said, snapping to attention. “We have the honeymoon suite, the orchid room and the oak tree room.
“Or there’s Miss Steph’s suite in the attic.” She lowered her voice as she finished the sentence.
“I don’t want Steph’s rooms. I presume you’re still there, Lucas?” Chloe looked at the chef. “And I don’t want the honeymoon suite. I’ll have the smallest room.”
Maggie and Rowena spent the rest of the day at some abbey ruins further along the cliff.
They had lunch at a café and strolled along the beach, and all the while Rowena gave Maggie advice.
“If you grew your hair or had it cut shorter it wouldn’t be so wild,” she stated.
Maggie reached up a hand and hooked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Rowena’s hair, she noticed, hadn’t moved out of place despite the sea breeze.
The walk and the sea air left them hungry and tired, and after dinner they turned in early.
As she dropped off to sleep, Maggie wondered if she should have told the police about Steph’s row with Lucas after all.
Next morning, Maggie was woken by knocking on the door.
“Margaret? It’s me!”
It was Rowena.
Maggie slipped out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and opened the door an inch.
Rowena pushed at it.
“Really, Margaret. No wonder you don’t get anywhere in life if you sleep all day. I thought we could go to Winchham Hall. An early start would be good.”
“You go to breakfast,” Maggie said. “Order me the same as yesterday. I’ll be five minutes.”
When Maggie got downstairs however, there was no sign of breakfast and Rowena was in a state of high excitement.
“Well,” she said, resting a hand on Maggie’s arm. “I’ve just seen them take away the chef in a police car!”
Maggie gasped. Her skin tingled and her heart raced.
“No!” she exclaimed. “But Lucas didn’t do it. I’m sure he didn’t.”
“Well, the police –” Rowena began.
“They’re wrong.”
Rowena shrugged.
“I’m sure they know what they are doing.”
“I’ll go to the station after breakfast,” Maggie said. “And talk to them.”
“Breakfast.” Rowena snorted. “It’s toast and marmalade. And what about Winchham Hall? I thought we were going today?”
“You go,” Maggie replied. “I need to go to the police station.”
Rowena sighed.
“It’s none of your business, Margaret.”
Maggie gave her a quick glance but didn’t say anything.
After breakfast she asked Jackie for directions and set off into town.
She found the police station easily. It still had a blue lantern hanging over the doorway.
Maggie stopped for a moment to admire it, then took a deep breath and climbed the steps.
“I’d like to see DI Winslade, please,” she told the officer on the desk.
“I’ll see if he’s available.”
Maggie waited, peering at the notices on the walls.
After 10 minutes, DI Winslade eventually came through a security door and greeted her.
“Ms Burns? How can I help you?” he asked.
“I heard you’d arrested Lucas.” Maggie’s words came out in a rush. “I’m sure it wasn’t him. I know I saw them arguing, but it wasn’t that sort of an argument.
“And I saw Steph again afterwards, so it wasn’t that that led to her death.”
Maggie rolled forward on her feet as she spoke.
She wanted to grasp the detective by the arm.
His expression didn’t change and she feared he wasn’t taking in what she was saying.
“Mr Caron is helping us with our enquiries,” the inspector said. “I’m afraid I can’t comment on the nature of –”
“But you have to believe me,” Maggie interrupted. “Everyone speaks well of him. I’m sure it wasn’t –”
But before she could finish speaking, the security door opened again and Lucas emerged.
“Oh, Lucas! Thank goodness!” Maggie cried.
“Thank you for coming in, Mr Caron,” DI Winslade said.
Maggie turned and looked at him, but there was no trace of irony in the detective’s expression.
Maggie hooked an arm through Lucas’s and marched him towards the door.
She walked him along the road and round the corner from the police station.
She steered him into the first coffee shop she found.
“Have a seat,” she said. “What would you like?”
“An espresso, please.” Lucas raised his head and met her eye for a moment.
“Don’t move,” Maggie instructed and went to the counter to give the order.
When she got back to the table, Lucas was hunched over, his head in his hands.
“Coffee is coming,” she told him. “Now, what did the police have to say? Have they charged you with anything?”
Lucas looked up with a shocked expression.
“No.”
“What did they want?” Maggie softened the tone of her voice.
“A swab. For DNA, they said.”
“Oh, so they must have some evidence they need to check.”
Maggie sat back as the waitress brought the coffees to the table.
Lucas cupped his hands around his tiny espresso.
He looked tired and cold.
“I didn’t do it,” he said wearily.
“No. I don’t think you did,” Maggie agreed. “But who might have? I assume Steph would never have gone off the cliff in the night accidently. She knew the grounds too well.”
Lucas shrugged.
“It was her childhood home. She was often telling me things that she and Chloe did. Her father ran it as a hotel, but as kids they went everywhere.”
“What will happen to it now?” Maggie put her head on one side. “Who inherits?”
Lucas gave another shrug.
“Chloe, I presume. Steph and Chloe owned it jointly, although Steph and I ran it.
“We are getting – were getting – married next year. Then I suppose I would have had a share. But now I have nothing.
“I didn’t do it. I loved her,” he added with a sniff.
“What about Chloe?” Maggie asked.
“Chloe?” The chef looked surprised. “Chloe can be difficult. She wasn’t happy with the income from the hotel, even though their father stipulated it should remain as a hotel.
“She had plans drawn up to convert the building into luxury flats. Her idea was that she and Steph could have one each and then sell the others as profit.”
“Would that have cost a lot to do? The building work, I mean?” Maggie asked.
Lucas nodded.
“That’s what Steph said. She told Chloe there was no way they had the money to do it. Chloe was keen to borrow but Steph put her whole life into the hotel.
“We spent all the money we have getting the bedrooms right and putting in en suites,” he explained.
“Is that why not all the rooms are available at the moment?” Maggie asked.
“Yes,” Lucas confirmed. “The left wing is still being plumbed. The building work is finished. They are nearly ready for guests.
“Meanwhile we have been busy with the restaurant business. We have lots of people coming in at weekends for meals.”
“Your food is good,” Maggie acknowledged.
“I know,” he said, “but it’s Steph who has promoted the hotel. She is –”
He stopped suddenly.
“She was very popular and knew lots of people in town.”
Maggie looked at her coffee cup and realised she’d finished her drink.
“Do you think I can have a look at the plans? Chloe’s plans?” she asked.
“I guess,” Lucas replied. “I expect Steph kept them somewhere.”
When they got back to reception, Jackie was at the counter rearranging the vase of roses.
Lucas glanced at her and beckoned to Maggie.
“Come to the apartment. I’ll find the plans.”
As Maggie followed him up the stairs, she felt Jackie’s gaze tracking them.
Lucas led the way up two flights of stairs and along a corridor to a door at the end.
Concealed behind it was another set of stairs, this time unpolished and narrow.
“This is where the servants lived,” he said over his shoulder.
It was a small space and Lucas had to bend his head to avoid the slope of the roof.
When the stairs levelled out, they were in a bright open-plan room with dormer windows along one side and views towards the sea.
“This is lovely!” Maggie exclaimed.
“Steph had the bedrooms knocked through so she had her own apartment.”
Lucas gave a tight smile and moved across to a bureau, which was overflowing with papers, and began searching.
Maggie looked out of the windows, enjoying the view as Lucas searched.
“Here we go.” Ten minutes and several opened drawers and cupboards later, Lucas held aloft a cardboard tube. “They are in here, I think.”
He shook out rolls of paper and opened them up to reveal architects’ plans.
Maggie came over and they spread them on the floor, kneeling together to stare at the drawings.
The front elevation of the hotel appeared almost the same, but each floor plan showed how the building had been split into eight individual flats.
On the top floor, in the attic space, was a separate apartment for both Chloe and Steph.
“Doesn’t Chloe have somewhere to live here now?” Maggie asked.
Lucas shook his head.
“No. Her side of the building hasn’t been renovated. She has a caravan she stays in down the hill.”
He pointed out of the window.
“It’s where she lives for the summer. In winter she has an apartment in Spain.”
“So she was here when Steph was killed?”
The words were out of Maggie’s mouth before she considered how insensitive they might sound.
Lucas shrugged.
“I don’t know. But she is usually here in summer, so I expect so.”
Maggie thinned her lips.
So Chloe might have had the opportunity.
Would she want to harm her sister?
Did Chloe want to build the luxury flats enough to kill Steph over it?
Maggie didn’t know, but she could try to find out.
Rowena wasn’t happy with Maggie when they met for dinner.
“Did you have a good day?” she asked tightly.
Maggie nodded.
“And you?”
“It would have been better if I’d had someone with me,” Rowena snapped. “I was expecting to share the experience.”
“Sorry.” Maggie looked down at her menu. “We can do something tomorrow.”
“Mmm.”
“I think I might try the mushroom risotto,” Maggie said, trying to change the subject. “Lucas is cooking tonight.”
“Do you think it’s safe to eat something prepared by a murderer?” Rowena hissed at her.
Maggie looked up in surprise.
“He’s not a murderer,” she hissed back, aware of the other couple in the dining-room watching them. “The police have let him go. I don’t think he did it.”
“Well, that’s all right, then,” Rowena replied sarcastically. “If you’ve made up your mind.”
Maggie shook her head. Why was her sister so infuriating?
“Do you ever feel like killing me?” she asked.
Rowena drew back, her eyes wide.
“No!” she exclaimed. “Why do you ask that? Really, Margaret, you are the most extraordinary person.”
Conversation stopped as Anna came to take their order.
While Rowena was dithering over her choice, Maggie watched Jackie show Chloe into the dining-room.
She saw Chloe smile and thank Jackie, who was fussing about her.
She and Rowena talked about other places they could visit locally, including the nearby town.
“We could pop into M&S and get you some new outfits,” she said to Maggie.
Maggie smiled and took a mouthful of risotto.
“This is delicious,” she said. “Try yours . . .”
As they walked out of the dining-room after dinner, Jackie bounded out from behind reception.
“Would you like to take coffee outside? It’s a nice evening.”
Maggie glanced at Rowena, who shrugged.
“Yes, please. I’d like a latte. Row?”
“Rowena, Margaret,” her sister said. “I’d like an Americano – black. I’m going up to get my pashmina.”
She hurried off up the stairs while Maggie allowed herself to be led outside and settled in a wicker chair.
The evening air was still warm and she could see seagulls hovering on the thermals.
She took a deep breath and relaxed into her chair, enjoying the calm.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?”
A voice behind her made her jump.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Oh, no. I wasn’t startled,” Maggie lied. “I was just miles away. You’re Chloe, aren’t you? Steph’s sister?”
The woman settled into a nearby chair and nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “Poor Steph. She so wanted this place to be a success. I think she and Lucas were on the right track.
“Lucas is a tremendous chef, isn’t he?” Chloe rubbed a hand over her stomach.
“So,” Maggie began, “if you thought they could make a go of it, why did you want to change the place into flats and sell them?”
She noticed a slight frown come over Chloe’s face.
“Where did you hear about that?”
Maggie didn’t answer.
Chloe wriggled in her chair.
“Ah, thank you, Jackie,” she said as a tray of coffee appeared and cups were put in front of them.
“Do you want me to keep this warm for the other lady?” Jackie asked Maggie.
“No. It’s fine. She’ll be back in a moment,” Maggie replied.
Jackie also put down a saucer with petit fours for each of them.
“Lucas made them,” she said, before turning away and going back inside.
“So, the hotel?” Maggie prompted when they were alone again.
“The place has been in the family for years,” Chloe began. “Steph and I used to play as kids on the lawn. It was our house, even though it was a business, too.
“We got away with murder, and were spoilt by the guests.”
She suddenly appeared to realise what she’d said and clamped a hand over her mouth.
Rowena appeared in the doorway and walked over to the chairs just as Maggie asked her next question.
“If it has happy memories, why do you want to sell?”
Rowena flashed her a look.
“Maggie, it’s none of our business,” she hissed.
Chloe wiped a hand across her forehead.
“I was going through a bad patch after my divorce,” she explained. “Part of the reason my husband and I split up was not having enough money.
“Yet a small fortune is tied up in this pile that doesn’t pay me anything.” She waved a hand at the hotel behind her. “But Steph wouldn’t listen to reason.
“Dad’s will stipulated that, unless we were both in agreement, it was to be run as a hotel, so the building plans were a non-starter.”
Maggie nodded, but she wasn’t convinced Chloe had given up the idea completely.
Perhaps money was so tight she’d consider taking matters into her own hands.
Maggie didn’t sleep well.
Rowena, on the other hand, appeared full of life and ready to explore the area when Maggie met her in the dining-room.
“Sleep well?” Rowena asked. “I’ve been looking at where we could go today, and there is an animal sanctuary over the hill . . .”
“An animal sanctuary,” Maggie repeated. “That sounds lovely. But I just have to pop into town to the police station first.”
“Margaret, you’re not still fussing?” Rowena accused. “Let the police get on with their investigations. That’s what they are paid for.”
“I have information that might be useful to them.” Maggie leaned across the table and whispered to Rowena. “I should tell them what I know.”
Rowena threw her hands up in the air.
“Margaret. You work in food hygiene, not CSI.”
“But the police probably don’t know that Chloe was planning on redeveloping the hotel but Steph wouldn’t allow it to happen.
“Chloe was short of money,” Maggie added. “And she was staying in her caravan in the caravan park so she had opportunity, being close by.”
Rowena shook her head.
“Sisters don’t do that sort of thing.”
Maggie looked dubious but Rowena didn’t notice.
“Well, if you’re really set on going into town,” Rowena went on, “at least let me make you an appointment at the hairdresser.
“We’ll get you tidied up a bit and put some colour over those grey streaks.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes.
“I’m still growing out the last hair cut you made me have,” she said. “I’ll only be ten minutes.
“If there’s no appointments today, we could still go and see the animals.”
Rowena nodded and tucked into her bacon and eggs, which Maggie took to be agreement.
Rowena drove to the police station.
“Be as quick as you can,” she called as Maggie slammed the car door shut.
Maggie waved and hurried up the steps into reception.
“I’d like to see Detective Inspector Winslade, please,” she said.
“Can I ask what it concerns?” the PC on the desk asked.
“A murder,” Maggie said quietly.
Then she sat and waited.
Detective Winslade took some 10 minutes to appear.
“Ah, Ms Burns,” he said. “Again.”
“Detective Winslade,” she began. “Did you know that Steph’s sister wanted to renovate the hotel into flats and sell them off? She was short of money.”
Maggie gabbled in order to get the words out before the detective could cut her off.
He listened politely, his head slightly on one side.
“Lucas has a copy of the plans,” she continued.
Maggie fixed her eyes on Detective Winslade and willed him to indicate he agreed with what she was saying.
But his expression didn’t change.
“Don’t you see?” she asked. “It gives her a motive, which Lucas doesn’t have.”
“Ms Burns,” the officer began. “Thank you for coming in. We’ll investigate all lines of enquiry.
“Now, why don’t you go and enjoy your holiday and let us do our job?”
Detective Winslade gave a tight smile and ushered Maggie out of the door.
“I know you are worried, but we can cope,” he said finally, leaving Maggie on the steps as he turned and went back in.
Maggie thinned her lips and hurried back to the car.
“Did he listen?” Rowena asked.
“No,” Maggie admitted.
Rowena shrugged.
“Right,” she said. “Will we go to the hairdresser now?”
Maggie sighed. She knew when she was beaten.
After a hair appointment, lunch and visiting several shops, they returned to the hotel.
Rowena was clutching several bags and Maggie was holding a shoe box.
She had grudgingly purchased a pair of red loafers, which she admitted were more elegant than her trainers.
“I’m going for a lie down,” Rowena said. “I’ll be down for a drink before dinner.”
Maggie nodded. She didn’t need a nap.
After the claustrophobia of the hairdresser, she wanted to be outside.
She wandered round to the garden and was surprised to find Lucas in a tracksuit, kneeling at the vegetable bed.
“Hello,” he greeted her. “Nice day?”
“Not really,” Maggie admitted. “Bossed about by my sister. What are you doing?”
“Checking my herbs,” he said. “I need mint for salad this evening, and sage and thyme.”
“I didn’t know you did the gardening, too?”
“We can’t afford to have many staff,” he explained. “We planned to grow much of the vegetables here. Now I don’t know if I have a job or a garden.”
“I’m sure the police don’t think you did it, Lucas,” Maggie said. “I told the inspector this morning about Chloe’s plans for redevelopment. I think they should look at her motives.”
Lucas stared at her.
“It wasn’t Chloe. It couldn’t have been her. Steph and she were very different, but they loved each other in a funny way.”
Maggie frowned.
“Well, unless you have some other ideas, the police will think it is either you or Chloe. No-one else has a motive, do they?”
At that moment, Jackie came through the gateway into the garden.
“Lucas, the delivery has arrived. They’ve put it in the kitchen,” she shouted across to him.
He lifted a hand in acknowledgement and Jackie disappeared again.
“She seems efficient. She’s almost running the place.”
Maggie nodded at Jackie’s retreating figure.
“That isn’t what Steph thought,” Lucas said. “It was her we were arguing about. Steph had just sacked her and told her to leave immediately.
“I said that was unreasonable. She would have nowhere else to live.”
“What?” Maggie gasped. “Jackie’s not supposed to be working here any more?”
Lucas shrugged.
“I don’t know. It’s up to Chloe, I suppose.”
“Does she know that Steph sacked her?” Maggie asked. “Jackie seems to have made herself indispensable.”
She grasped Lucas’s arm.
“Did you say she would have nowhere else to live?”
“Yes,” he replied. “She has a box room at the other end of the corridor from our flat. It is only temporary. The room is supposed to be converted to a bathroom.
“She is the only one of the staff who lives in. It is cheap for her.”
“Lucas!” Maggie exclaimed. “This gives her a motive to kill Steph. Did you tell the police this?”
Lucas shook his head.
“I’ll ring the inspector now,” she said. “You’ve got to tell him immediately.”
Maggie set off across the grass to the gateway.
She turned on to the path and suddenly a pain shot through her head.
She knew nothing else until she woke, hurting all over, in the dark.
She opened her eyes and winced as her head thumped with pain.
She felt her eyes and decided they were open but she was somewhere pitch black.
Beneath her was a concrete floor, cold and damp, and to one side she could feel a wall.
She moved her hand and the surface changed from plaster to wood.
A doorway, maybe?
She dragged herself a couple of feet until she was closer to it.
She tried banging with her fist, but the jolt shot straight up her arm and made her head pound.
She slumped and sighed. Where was she?
She felt around on the floor for her bag and mobile phone.
She’d had it with her when she was in the garden with Lucas.
She was having trouble focusing and her thoughts weren’t making sense.
She frowned, but even that action hurt her head.
She lifted a hand and felt her scalp.
Behind one ear was a painful lump and her hair was tacky.
Her stomach churned and she felt nauseous.
Did she fall?
“Margaret?”
Maggie thought she heard Rowena’s voice calling her in the singsong way she had, emphasising the three syllables in Maggie’s name.
She squinted and moved her head closer to the door.
“Margaret?”
It was Rowena.
Maggie banged as hard as she could on the wood, ignoring the pain in her head.
Rowena’s voice came closer.
“Margaret? What are you doing in there?”
“Get me out!” Maggie croaked, her throat dry.
“Hang on,” Rowena said. “There’s a padlock. I’ll go and see if anyone has a key.”
“Not Jackie!”
Maggie suddenly remembered what she had needed to do, but already Rowena’s footsteps were receding.
Maggie’s pulse raced as she waited.
Would Rowena find Jackie? Did Jackie do this?
Surely it must have been her who pushed Steph off the cliff.
She needed to tell someone right away.
But before she could do anything, the lightning bolt sparked in her head again and the dark closed in.
The next thing Maggie knew was the strange feeling of flying through the air into the gaping doors of an ambulance.
A woman in green overalls climbed in beside her.
“Tell Inspector Winslade it was Jackie,” she croaked, then remembered no more until she awoke in a hospital bed with Rowena at her side.
She blinked several times.
“Hello,” Rowena said. “What a way to spend a holiday.”
Maggie felt her head, which didn’t hurt but felt thick and fuzzy.
“You banged your head,” Rowena said. “They want to keep you in overnight in case of concussion.”
Then Maggie remembered what she needed to tell Inspector Winslade.
“Rowena! You need to tell the police. It was Jackie. At least I think it was her.”
She tried to sit up but Rowena pushed her gently back on to the pillow.
“No,” Maggie tried again. “You need to listen. I think Jackie killed Steph.”
“It’s OK, Margaret,” Rowena said. “The police have it under control. The doctor said not to bother you with anything tonight.
“If they release you in the morning, you can talk to the police.”
Maggie felt panic fluttering in her chest. This information was important.
“I was inside,” Maggie said, frowning. “How did you find me?”
“The loafers,” Rowena explained. “I found one in the garden and the other on the path leading to the gardener’s shed.
“I knew you wouldn’t have dropped them on purpose, not when we chose them so carefully.
“And by the way, you’ve totally messed up that haircut you’ve just had.”
Maggie lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.
She woke early the next morning as the ward got busy and a tea trolley was pushed around, the wheels squeaking on the lino floor.
She now remembered she’d been in the garden talking to Lucas, then someone had hit her.
She had to tell the inspector what she knew.
She was anxious to leave, but had to wait until the doctor had checked her and Rowena had come to collect her.
They drove slowly back to the hotel.
Waiting for them at the hotel were Lucas and Chloe.
“Welcome back!” Lucas cried.
“I can’t tell you how sorry we are that this happened in the hotel.” Chloe rung her hands together.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Maggie said in surprise.
“No,” Chloe agreed. “But come and sit down.”
“I need to talk to the police,” Maggie replied.
“They’re coming. They want to talk to you, too,” Chloe said, leading Maggie across to the shade.
“Coffee?” Lucas asked.
Maggie smiled and he went off.
At that moment a police car arrived and stopped in front of the hotel.
DI Winslade got out.
“How are you feeling, Ms Burns?” he asked.
“Fine. A little shaky,” Maggie admitted.
“I told you to leave the policing to us,” he said with a tight smile.
“I was. I was on the way to tell you something I found out,” Maggie protested. “Did you know that Steph had sacked Jackie?”
“We do,” the inspector said. “Mr Caron told us last night when you were found. We picked Jackie up at the train station before she had a chance to flee.
“We are awaiting DNA results, but are sure the scratch marks on her neck will match the skin samples found under Steph’s nails.
“I’m expecting to charge her later today.”
“What about Margaret?” Rowena asked. “Surely it was Jackie who hit her and locked her in the outhouse?”
Maggie looked up.
“Did you see her, Ms Burns?” the officer asked.
Maggie shook her head.
“I’ve no idea who it was. It was just a sudden pain out of nowhere and then black.”
“We have a weapon,” the inspector said. “Our eagle-eyed constable found the handle of a spade with blood on it. We’re checking it for DNA and fingerprints.”
The next two days passed in a blur.
At some point the inspector returned and told them he had charged Jackie with the murder of Steph and attempted murder of Maggie.
“It appears she has a violent temper and has been cautioned before for aggressive behaviour.”
“But murder is different,” Maggie pointed out.
“She was about to lose her job and her home,” the inspector said. “Perhaps the opportunity just arose . . .
“Who knows? She’s not telling us, so it will have to go to trial.”
After a while, the inspector left and Maggie lay back on the sun lounger.
When the time came for her and Rowena to leave, she was feeling it had been the most relaxing holiday she’d ever had with her sister.
“What a shame we couldn’t explore more,” Rowena muttered.
“We’ll just have to come back,” Maggie replied.
Rowena shuddered.
“I don’t think so.”
But Lucas and Chloe were insistent.
“We’re keeping the hotel going in Steph’s memory,” Chloe said. “Lucas has good ideas and his fine dining has made an impression in town already. It seems a shame to throw that all away.
“Besides, most of the renovations are complete so we’ve more rooms to let out.”
“Please, tell me you’ll come back next year?” Lucas added, taking Maggie’s hand. “I want you to see what Steph had planned.
“Plus, you haven’t tasted my best dishes yet.”
Maggie nodded.
“I’d love to,” she said.
It would be more restful without Rowena around.
“Another visit will give us a chance to get to the animal sanctuary,” Rowena said. “And some of the shops in town were quite good.”
She looked down at her bulging suitcase.
Maggie stiffened and then relaxed. It was only one week a year.
She and Rowena might not always see eye to eye, but Row would always be there for her.
She was lucky. Poor Chloe had no-one now.
“We could book now, Row,” Maggie said. “So we get the nice rooms again.”
“It’s Rowena . . .” her sister said. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
They were very different, Maggie reflected, but they did love each other in a funny way.
Enjoy exclusive short stories every week inside the pages of “The People’s Friend”. On sale every Wednesday.
