Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [69]
“Welcome to Hotel Garcia,” the woman said in heavily accented English.
“We’re looking for a man who works here,” Maleah said. “Kyle Richey.”
“Is he here now?” Derek asked.
“Sí, sí. Kyle is here.” She turned and looked at the closed door directly behind her. “In his office.”
Maleah and Derek exchanged glances. “Please tell Mr. Richey that we would like to speak to him.”
She nodded. “Sí.” She knocked on the door, called out “Kyle,” and opened the door.
A tall, slender man with shoulder-length brown hair secured in a ponytail rose from behind an old wooden desk and spoke to the woman in Spanish. They conversed briefly and the man, whom Maleah recognized from old photos, came out into the lobby.
“I’m Kyle Richey,” he said. “I’m the manager here at Hotel Garcia. How may I help you?”
“Mr. Richey, I’m Maleah Perdue and this”—she nodded to Derek—“is my associate, Derek Lawrence. We work for the Powell Private Security and Investigation Agency based in Knoxville, Tennessee.”
Richey grunted. “Did one of my ex-wives hire you to track me down?”
“No, sir,” Maleah replied. “We’re here concerning the recent murders of three actors you worked with when you were a cameraman for Starlight Productions.”
Richey frowned. “Who was murdered? Dare I hope it was that bastard Sonny Deguzman?”
“Mr. Deguzman was not one of the victims,” Derek said, “but considering your past history, I can see why you might want the man dead.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t shed a tear if someone had bumped him off.”
“The victims were Dean Wilson, Hilary Finch, and Charles Wong.” Maleah studied him closely, examining his response.
“Damn! Wilson was okay, I guess, even if he was every bit as much a prima donna as Hilary. Those two were a match made in hell.” He chuckled. “And everybody liked Charlie. What the hell happened to them?”
“I believe I told you that they were murdered,” Maleah said.
“Who killed them?”
“We don’t know. We were hoping you might be able to help us with our investigation.”
“Hey now, you don’t suspect me, do you? The only body I had anything against was Sonny. And he isn’t dead, is he?”
“What about your ex-wife, Charlene Strickland? Considering the fact that you nearly killed her when you discovered she was having an affair with Sonny and wound up spending several years in prison for assault, I would imagine you still harbor some ill will toward her.”
Richey’s face flushed. He glanced at the hotel clerk. She came to him and slipped her arm around his waist.
“Luisa knows about my past.” Richey placed his hand over the woman’s protruding belly. “I’ve made a new life for myself since my release from prison four years ago. Luisa and I got married and we’re expecting our first child in about three weeks. I’ve put the past in the past. I have no reason to want to harm anybody connected to my days as a cameraman with Starlight Productions.”
“I’d like to believe you,” Maleah said. “Can you account for your whereabouts since the first of the year? Have you made any trips across the border, say to Tennessee or Arizona?”
Luisa began speaking rapidly in Spanish. Richey hugged her to him and whispered softly. She stopped talking immediately and smiled at him.
“I haven’t left Mexico in well over a year. Hell, I haven’t left San Pedro since before Christmas when I took Luisa to Mexico City to visit her folks.”
“Let’s say that we believe you.” Derek looked directly at Richey. “We can eliminate you as a suspect, but not necessarily as a potential victim. Have you received any threatening letters recently?”
“Threatening letters?” Richey looked genuinely puzzled by the question.
“Our three victims all received letters telling them that they were going to die,” Maleah said. “As have other actors who were in Midnight Masquerade.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. No, I haven’t gotten any threatening letters. Maybe whoever is doing the killing is just after the actors.”
“Possibly,” Derek said. “Any chance you’d know someone from your past who would have a reason to want to kill the actors from that particular movie?”
Richey shook his head. “Not