Chapter Two

Across town, in a new subdivision of multi-million-dollar mansions, Sage rang the doorbell at the home of Maybelle Jamison. A maid ushered her into a small sitting room where she waited for Cynthia to arrive. Her cell phone rang. It was Cinnamon.

            “I didn’t have much luck with my search in the hotel kitchen,” she said. “Gordon told me Maybelle has been meeting with the hotel owner and manager. He thinks something big was in the works, but doesn’t know what it was.”

“I’ll ask Cynthia,” offered Sage. “Surely she knows what her mother was planning, if it was that important.”

  “Good,” replied Cinnamon. “Cynthia is probably the only source we have for checking up on Maybelle’s plans. But, Pepper and Curry found out something important. The housekeeping supervisor told them Maybelle had an argument with Glen Durst, the hotel manager, this morning. We need to find out what they were arguing about. He could be a possible murder suspect.”

“We’ll definitely add him to the list,” agreed Sage. “Did the supervisor tell Jason about Maybelle’s argument?”

“Yes, I’m sure he’s following up on that lead, too.”

“I hope so,” replied Sage. “I’m at Maybelle’s house waiting to talk to Cynthia. Let me see what I can find out here, and then I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”           

“Sure. We’ll hang around here and have lunch. Maybe we can pick up some more info. Call me when you leave Maybelle’s house.” 

“Will do,” said Sage, hanging up her phone, as Cynthia entered the room.           

“Thank you for seeing me, Cynthia,” she said, giving her grieving friend a warm hug. “I know how upset you must be over your mother’s death.”

“We’re all still in shock, Sage,” said Cynthia, blotting tears from her red, swollen eyes. “Why would someone want to murder my mother? I know she was overbearing and self-centered, but that’s no reason to kill her.”           

“Do you know why she was at the hotel this morning?”           

“Yes. She was planning to buy the hotel from Clinton Tate. He put the property on the market a couple of months ago, and Mother became absolutely obsessed with the idea of owning it. She needed a new pet project to occupy her time; and when she found out Clinton wanted to sell the hotel, nothing was going to keep her from getting it. She even had the insane idea that she wanted to run it herself.” 

“You mean she didn’t want to have a manager?”

“Exactly. It was a crazy idea. Mother didn’t know the first thing about managing a hotel, not to mention the fact that she would need to give up all her charity projects.”           

“Did she tell Glen Durst about her plans?”           

“Who is Glen Durst?”

“He’s the current manager at the hotel. I just found out that Maybelle had an argument with Glen this morning, but we don’t know what the argument was about.”

“And you think he killed her?”

“Well, most people wouldn’t go that far to keep their jobs, but stranger things have happened. You’re an attorney—I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of weirdoes in court.”

“You’re right about that,” Cynthia said. “What are you going to do now?”

“My sisters are waiting for me at the hotel. I’m going to see what I can do to check out Glen Durst.”

“Aren’t you going to tell the Sheriff?” asked Cynthia.

“You mean you haven’t told him about your mother’s plan to buy the hotel?”

“Not yet. He’s supposed to come by later this afternoon.”

Sage smiled. “Sure, I’ll tell him,” she lied. She really did plan to tell him, just not right away; maybe later, after she had a chance to do a little more sleuthing. “I’m going to try my best to find out who killed Maybelle, Cynthia, for her sake as well as my mother’s.”

“Thank you, Sage. I appreciate anything you can do.”

“No thanks necessary,” Sage said. “You’d do the same thing for me.”

Cynthia smiled bravely, as her puffy eyes began to tear-up again.

“Call me if there’s anything I can do to help you get through this nightmare,” offered Sage, remembering the fact that she had three sisters and two loving parents to help cushion life’s blows; but Cynthia was an only child, whose parents, for the most part, were self-absorbed and totally absent. Even more incentive to catch this killer, she thought, as she returned to her car. She dialed Cinnamon’s cell phone. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

Sage made a beeline for the hotel and met her sisters inside the restaurant, where they were chowing down on Friday’s lunch special—Seafood Bisque with tiny herb biscuits and a side of fresh fruit salad.

“That looks yummy,” remarked Sage.

“It’s scrumptious,” said Cinnamon, scooping up a steamy spoonful of the fragrant soup. “Gordon really knows his way around seafood, and the spices are perfect.”

“Want a bite?” asked Pepper.

“No thanks. I’m stuffed,” replied Sage. While Cinnamon, Pepper and Curry finished off their lunch, Sage told them about Maybelle’s plans to buy the hotel and possibly fire Glen Durst.

“I guess that’s what they were arguing about this morning,” said Cinnamon. “Do you think he would kill her because of that?”

“I have no idea,” admitted Sage. “But right now, he’s our only suspect, and I intend to search his office. If he killed Maybelle, he might have hidden the knife there. The deputies have searched everywhere and didn’t find it.”

“That’s what Gordon said, too,” added Cinnamon. “Let’s check it out.”

“How are you going to search his office without him knowing about it?” asked Pepper.

“We’ll need a diversion,” replied Sage. “You and Curry think up a way to get Glen out of his office for at least thirty minutes. Cinnamon, you can stand guard in the hallway and let me know if anyone is coming, while I search Glen’s office.” 

It never occurred to Sage’s three siblings to question her plans. If she decided they needed to search Glen’s office, then that’s exactly what they would do. As their unofficial leader, they had every confidence that Sage knew what she was doing—most of the time.

Pepper and Curry conferred for a moment over how to accomplish their mission, and then left the restaurant, heading for Glen Durst’s office. Sage and Cinnamon kept their fingers crossed that the twins could entice him from his lair. Glen was in his mid-thirties, average height, and somewhat of a geek; but he was a typical male. He wouldn’t be able to resist the attention of not one, but two tall, shapely brunettes.

Pepper and Curry turned down careers in fashion modeling, choosing instead to open an upscale clothing boutique in Houston, selling expensive designer clothing, as well as their own original designs. The “Grand Opening” for Panache was held last fall to celebrate their 27^th birthdays. They are quite a team, and their sisters didn’t doubt for a minute they would launch their own successful line of clothing in the very near future.

Shortly after the twins left the restaurant, Glen strolled through the lobby with Pepper hanging onto one arm and Curry draped over the other. He was all smiles and basking in their glow. As soon as the trio was safely out of sight, Sage and Cinnamon made a dash for Glen’s office. Cinnamon took up her station outside the office door, while Sage sneaked inside to begin her search. 

She tackled the desk first, opening drawers and rifling through the contents, even checking to make sure nothing was taped to the backs. The only evidence she discovered was not murderous but erotic—a copy of Penthouse Magazine in the bottom drawer. “Shame on you, Glen, and on company time, too.” Next she moved over to the filing cabinet, flipping through all the folders, but found nothing suspicious; just the usual business correspondence, schedules and memos. 

The book cases were last. Sage fanned through each book, hoping to find something inside. Fortunately, Glen wasn’t big on reading, so his library was limited. As she opened one of the books on the last shelf, a folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor. 

She unfolded the elegant stationery and discovered a Chicago newspaper clipping inside. The headline read “Local Man Embezzles $5,000,000 and Disappears”. There beside the headline was a picture of Glen Durst, but the name printed underneath his picture was David Groves. Double shame on you, Glen, she thought. That little geek had managed to pull off a multi-million-dollar heist and get away with it. 

Sage scanned the brief, hand-written letter. It was from Maybelle. “I don’t want any scandal attached to this hotel,” the letter read. “Withdraw your purchase offer and move on quietly, so I won’t be forced to reveal your true identity.”

“Whew,” whistled Sage. “Now there’s a motive for murder. They both wanted to buy this hotel, and Maybelle was using blackmail to gain the upper hand.” Sage had no idea why Maybelle would commit a Federal crime to get what she wanted, but Cynthia was right about her mother being obsessed with the idea of owning this hotel. 

Unfortunately, Maybelle miscalculated the consequences of her actions, and look what that mistake had cost her. But if Glen killed Maybelle, where did he hide the murder weapon? Sage had turned that office inside out and not found it. Frustrated, she plopped down in the desk chair, staring blankly at the serene oil painting hanging on the wall in front of her.

“Oh,” she said, jumping up from the chair. “Of course, why didn’t I think of it before?”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Sheriff Jason Winters and Deputy Sam Davis climbed the main staircase in the hotel lobby in search of Glen Durst. After conducting a lengthy background check on the otherwise mild-mannered hotel manager, the Sheriff had turned up some rather unsavory news. Apparently Mr. Durst had sticky fingers when it came to other people’s money. 

The front desk clerk had directed the two lawmen to the second floor. “He’s in the Magnolia Ballroom,” she said, “assisting two clients plan for an event.”

As they reached the top of the stairs, they spotted the hotel manager chatting amiably with Pepper and Curry McCormick. He was giggling like a chubby little kid on a roller coaster, as the spice twins flirted with him shamelessly.

“I smell a rat!” said Jason. “If Pepper and Curry are here, then Sage and Cinnamon can’t be far behind.”

“Who?” asked the confused deputy.

“I think what we’ve got here is a diversionary tactic. That means Sage must be stalking Glen Durst, and I’ve got a good idea where to find her.”

Jason dashed down the stairs, taking them two at a time, with the puzzled deputy struggling to keep up. He knew he’d find that nosey barrister snooping around in Glen’s office.

Meanwhile, Sage, who was completely unaware of the whirlwind bearing down upon her, ran around the desk and lifted the large oil painting off the wall. She turned it over, and there, taped to the back of the canvas, was a plastic bag holding a large steak knife.

She shuddered at the traces of blood still visible on the blade, thinking how shocked poor Maybelle must have felt when her attacker struck—first pain, then outrage and finally the fear of losing her life as she struggled to reach the staircase.

Outside the office door, she heard Cinnamon’s voice, “Jason. What are you doing here?”

Before Sage could react, Jason burst into the office, glaring at the back of the painting she still held in both hands.

“Your finger prints had better not be on that bag,” he warned.

“Do I look that stupid?” she countered. “I should think you’d be grateful that I discovered the murder weapon and the motive,” she added, nodding at the letter on the desk.

“I was already on my way to arrest David Groves,” he replied. “I can’t just break into people’s offices—I have to go through the proper legal channels and actually take the time to get warrants.”

“I didn’t break in,” argued Sage. “The door was open.”

“And you think that gives you the right—legal or otherwise—to go poking around in someone’s private space?”

“When my mother’s life is at stake, yes, I do!”

David Groves, a.k.a. Glen Durst, stepped into the office, “What are you doing in here? Get out of my office!”

“It’s too late for that,” said Jason, holding up a warrant.  “David Groves, I’m arresting you for embezzlement. Read him his rights, Sam; then take him down to the station.”

Deputy Davis hauled off the confounded Glen Durst, as Cinnamon, Pepper and Curry gathered outside the office door.

“Embezzlement?” asked the equally confounded Sage. “What about murder?”

“Unfortunately, you didn’t do your homework, Counselor. Glen Durst has an airtight alibi for Maybelle Jamison’s murder.  He was in a meeting with a room full of people when she was stabbed,” explained Jason.

“But what about the blackmail letter from Maybelle?” argued Sage, holding up the letter for Jason to scan.           

“He might have had motive,” agreed Jason, “but he didn’t have opportunity.”

“Maybe he hired someone to do it,” offered Sage, in a desperate attempt to make her theory fit.

“I intend to explore that possibility, but, in the mean time, I expect you to keep your nose out of my investigation.”           

Cinnamon, Pepper and Curry, standing outside the office door, stepped back, anticipating the inevitable fireworks from yet another Sage and Jason confrontation.           

Sage’s bright green eyes glittered with anger. Her three sisters gasped and backed up again. Pulling herself up to her full five feet, four inches—in heels—she glared up at Jason—a good ten inches taller.

“Not a chance in hell!” she growled. “Not as long as my mother is a murder suspect!”

“Dammit, Sage,” said the exasperated Sheriff. “You know I don’t believe your mother killed anybody, but this is a murder investigation, and I have to follow all the leads—no matter where that takes me.”           

“Then you can expect me to be following leads, too,” countered Sage. “I know you’re a good investigator, Jason, but this is my mother we’re talking about. I will not stop until this case is solved.”

Jason sighed. He might as well be arguing with a brick wall. “You can’t do much investigating from behind bars, and that’s exactly where you’re going to wind up if you keep breaking into offices and tampering with evidence.”

“Humph,” mumbled Sage, putting her hands on her hips in defiance. But her belligerent stance was just a bluff. She knew he could toss her skinny ass in jail if she didn’t play her cards right.

“Can I count on you not to break any more laws?” he asked.

Sage paused briefly, her knees feeling limp under the gaze of his smoky brown eyes. She wasn’t about to make any promises at this stage of the game, so she gave a quick nod instead. The trick here was not to get caught. She’d just have to be more careful in the future.

“I know asking you to be patient is like asking you not to breathe,” added Jason. “Just give me a chance, and I promise I’ll find this killer.”

Sage relaxed a bit. She knew Jason was doing his best, but it couldn’t hurt to have a backup investigation; and there was no way in hell she could sit around and wait. Once again, she nodded, without making a verbal commitment.

“Truce?” asked Jason, with a guarded smile.

“Truce,” replied Sage, feeling like a tap dancer on a tight rope.

Cinnamon, Pepper and Curry breathed a sigh of relief—another battle with no bloodshed—now that was progress.