Page 40 of Jane's Story
Charles’s eyes opened wide, and I clapped my hands together.
“Can we please see it?”
“Well…” Rose paused for a moment. “Yes, I suppose so.”
Charles helped Rose push her cart to the elevator, and we all boarded together.
“I thought the hotel only had seventeen floors, but I guess it makes sense that there are eighteen if the penthouse suites are two stories each.” Charles smiled at me. “Good work, Jane.”
“Well, it still proves nothing. But at least it gives us some options.” I shrugged.
Rose used her keycard and pushed a button labeled “Service Floor.” The eighteenth floor looked more like a hospital hallway than a lavish hotel.
“Here we have closets to store things like extra linens, little soaps, shampoo, cleaning solutions,and towels. We leave our cleaning carts here at the end of our shifts.” She gestured to the left side of the hallway, which was lined with several industrial-style doors. “Then on the right, we can access the second floor of the penthouse suites. As you know, our hotel has four penthouses.”
“Wait.” Charles stopped and looked at her. “I thought there were only three penthouse suites.”
“No, there are four. It’s been the talk of the hotel that your company booked all of them. I thought you would know that?” Rose looked between me and Charles.
“Rose, you’ve been incredibly helpful. I think we need to go down and speak with the management now.” I tugged on Charles’s arm.
“Well then, good luck.” Rose waved to us as we made our way back to the elevator.
“Charles, you realize what this means, right?” I asked as we descended to the lobby.
“Well, I know what it might mean. Someone booked the fourth penthouse. This enabled them to access our suites through the connected doors, or the doors the housekeepers use, and kill Armond undetected.” His mouth tightened. “I hope they have security footage of the eighteenth floor.”
Chapter 16
WesatinMr.Hedwer’s office, taking turns explaining the current situation and our suspicions.
“But you understand. We still don’t know who booked the extra suite, or how they got a key card to access the eighteenth floor,” I spewed the words at the poor man. His eyes were wider than normal and his glasses slipped halfway down his nose.
“I can’t imagine anyone who works here would share their keycard. But let me think now. We don’t have cameras on the eighteenth floor since it’s mostly a storage area. But I have the photos you requested earlier.” He passed a folder to me, then turned to his computer and rapidly tapped at the keyboard. “Let’s see, Armond Moreau booked the third suite with a Haven Corp credit card. Wait, he's the victim?”
“Yes, which makes me wonder if someone talked him into it.” I stared at Mr. Hedwer’s shiny desk. “Maybe we can force a confession. The gala is this evening, right?”
Charles nodded. “But whoever we’re up against has been playing this game for a while now. I worry they’re more dangerous than we expect.”
“All the more reason to catch them. Maybe we can think of it more as who we’d protect—who’s to say this won’t keep happening?” I shrugged.
“True.” He nodded. “We need to come up with a plan.”
Charles and I had spent much of the afternoon in our suite, trying to devise a way to catch the killer. Our final plan was simple because it had to be flexible enough to allow for adjustments depending on how people reacted. We hoped dropping clues about the connected rooms and the eighteenth floor would elicit a reaction from the guilty party. I’d shoot photos of people’s reactions, and we’d analyze them later to see if we could make any connections.
Despite the circumstances, a slight wave of excitement rushed over me as I slipped into my dress. My gown, with its low back, reached the floor. Silver threads shimmered within the fabric. I did nothing fancy with my hair, but I did have a silver barrette I used to pull a few twisted strands back from my face.
“You look…” Charles stared at me for a minute and shook his head as I descended the spiral staircase. “You look like you deserve to be doing something far better than hunting down a murderer with me. I won’t be able to live with myself if anything happens to you, Jane.”
“Well, good thing I’m hanging out with one of the most talented healers on the planet.” I waved off his concern and tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach as he stood there in his tuxedo. “What could happen in a crowded ballroom with hundreds of witnesses around?”
“Use your imagination,” Charles muttered softly and brushed an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “We’ll need to be careful.”
When we reached the ballroom, fairy lights and chandeliers welcomed us. Circular tables draped with deep plum cloths lined the walls, and the center ofthe room was open for dancing. The elegant soiree put our social events in Austen Heights to shame.
I walked in through the main entrance on Charles’s arm, and a server in a tuxedo descended upon us. He offered drinks and hors d'oeuvres on a platter and directed us to our table.
Within minutes, another couple, who were assigned to share our table, arrived and introduced themselves as Dustin and Cynthia de Bourgh. They were in their early to mid-sixties. Cynthia dripped with jewelry: a set of long gold and sapphire earrings, a statement necklace spread like diamond lace around her throat, a stack of gold bangles with various gemstones, and a ring on nearly every finger. Even without my fae ability, I would’ve sensed her self-content.
