Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [516]
Maggie’s first thought was that Joan Begley must do quite well as an artist. She had a suite, and from first glance Maggie guessed that she hadn’t been here for at least the last two days. Three complimentary USA Today’s were stacked on the coffee table. On the desk was a punch card for a week’s worth of complimentary continental breakfasts. Every day was punched except for Sunday. There was also an express checkout bill dated Sunday, September 14, with a revised copy for Monday and another for Tuesday.
Several suits and blouses were hung in the closet by the door. A jacket remained thrown over the back of the bedroom chair. Maggie patted down the jacket pockets and found a leather checkbook. She flipped it open, pleased to find Joan Begley kept track of her transactions. There were few since she had arrived in Connecticut. The first was to Marley and Marley for $1,000, listed as a “funeral down payment.” There was one at the Stop & Shop with the notation, “snacks.” Another at DB Mart, “gas.”
The last entry was on Saturday, September 13. At first she thought nothing of it. The check had been made out to Fellini’s Pizzeria with a notation, “dinner with Marley.” She glanced at the earlier notation. Dinner with one of the funeral directors? Would they meet for dinner to discuss funeral business? Yes, that was possible. If it were something else, a date, perhaps, Mr. Marley probably would have paid.
Saturday, September 13. If Gwen was right, Joan Begley may have disappeared later that night. But obviously she had come back to the room or the checkbook wouldn’t be here. Had she come back to change? Was Marley the man she was meeting again when she called Gwen?
She started to replace the checkbook when she thought about the autopsy. Whoever the poor woman was from barrel number one, she had been murdered shortly after having pizza, maybe at Fellini’s. Maybe shortly after meeting someone, perhaps even the killer for pizza. Maggie slipped the checkbook into her own trouser’s pocket.
She continued to survey the suite. A Pullman was spread open on the valet table. Two pairs of shoes lay tipped underneath where they had been kicked off. In the bathroom, various cosmetics and toiletries were scattered. A nightshirt hung on the back of the bathroom door.
Maggie stood in the middle of the suite, rubbing at her tired eyes. There was no doubt that Joan Begley hadn’t just picked up and escaped to the shore or somewhere. Even if she had run off with some new man in her life, she wouldn’t have left her things. No, it looked as if Joan had intended to come back to her suite. Yet it was obvious that she hadn’t done so for several days. So what happened?
She looked around the two rooms again for any clues, and this time she remembered to check the notepad alongside the phone. Bingo! She could see some indentations on the top page. It was an old trick, but she found a pencil in the drawer and with its side, shaded over the top page of the notepad. Like magic the indentations in the page turned into white lines, forming letters and numbers. Soon she had an address and a time: Hubbard Park, Percival Park Road, West Peak, 11:30 p.m.
Maggie ripped off the page and pocketed it. She stopped at the door for one last look. And before she turned out the light, she said to the empty room, “Where the hell are you, Joan Begley?”
CHAPTER 30
“Tell me about your illness,” he said while sitting on the edge of the bed.
Joan had been asleep. It had to be the middle of the night. But when the light snapped on she woke with a jerk. And there he was. She had to squint to see him, sitting at the foot of the bed, watching her. Staring at her.
She could smell him, a combination of wet dirt and human sweat, as if he had just come in after digging in the woods. Oh, God! Had he been digging her grave?
“What did you say?” She tried to wipe at the sleep from her eyes, only then remembering the leather restraints. Alarm spread through her body. Her muscles ached. She strained to reach her face, to push the strands of hair from