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CHAPTER THREE

Jack and I left Lily and Sheldon and the crime-scene techs and made our way back to the main resort. As we wound our way through the golf cart path in Jack’s truck, I noticed other villas hidden in the trees.

“These other villas are pretty far away from where our victims were found,” I said. “If they’re even occupied I’m not sure they’d have heard anything. The waterfalls would probably muffle the sound.”

“It’d be a slim chance anyone heard anything,” Jack agreed. “Maybe if the wind was blowing just right and carried the sound.”

“This property is huge,” I said. “Hard to contain since it backs up to a national forest on one side and the Potomac on the other. You can’t fence nature. The killer could have come in from anywhere.

“Yes,” Jack said. “I can send a few units out to drive the perimeter and see if there was an obvious breach. Maybe an abandoned car or something. But it would make more sense for the killer to have been on the property as a guest. They’d have had to walk miles through some pretty rough terrain to come in the back way, and then they’d have to go back out the same way once they’d finished taking out the targets.”

“You think the manager will give us the guest list?” I asked.

“I’ve already requested a warrant for it,” Jack said. “It should come through signed at any moment. Are you sure you’re doing okay?” Concern etched his face as he glanced at me. “I was really worried about you back there.”

“Worried about me or worried I’d contaminate the crime scene?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack grinned and squeezed my shoulder. “Both. How long do you think we’ll be able to keep this a secret?”

“As long as we can stop having early morning murder calls I figure we can keep it a secret until it’s time to give birth. You know people get all weird when they find out someone is pregnant. I don’t want to be treated any differently.”

“If you think my mother is going to wait until you’re giving birth you’re out of your mind,” he said. “You’re carrying her first grandbaby. Expect to be treated differently.”

I knew he wasn’t kidding. Mrs. Lawson was going to be over the moon once we broke the news, and as selfish as I wanted to be about keeping the baby our little secret, I knew it couldn’t last forever.

“We’ll keep it secret for just a little while longer,” I said. “I just need to plan better in the mornings so I’ve got time to let it pass.”

Jack parked his Tahoe under the covered portico of The Mad King Resort. It was all glass and natural stone and looked like a mountain retreat framed between centuries-old trees that edged along the Potomac. The crisp scent of pine mixed with the earthy aroma of the river created both a serene and overwhelming atmosphere.

“Give me a second,” I told Jack, looking down at my bloodstained coveralls and boots. “I don’t want to give anyone a heart attack. These don’t look like the kinds of people who talk about death over their morning coffee.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing out on,” Jack said. “The way I see it, if you start the day talking about death then things can only get better from there.”

I grunted in agreement and hurriedly stripped down to the black leggings and oversized cashmere sweater the color of raspberries I’d put on that morning. Then I dug for the black ballet flats I’d packed in the bottom of my bag.

“Do I look like I’ve spent the morning trying not to throw up?” I asked, pulling the band out of my hair and running my fingers through it, hoping it looked artfully tossed instead of crime-scene chic.

“You look beautiful in that sweater,” Jack said. “Really puts some color in your cheeks.”

“Yet still not a direct answer to my question,” I said, eyes narrowed.

Jack grinned as the doormen opened the polished glass doors for us and we walked into a lobby that smelled of luxury. There was a large fireplace that dominated almost the entire right-side wall, and several rocking chairs were placed in front of it. The fireplace had been laid with fresh wood. Nights were still chilly well into April, so I imagined happy hour would be quite cozy later that afternoon.

On the left side was an indoor grotto with a cascading waterfall, and several seating arrangements were placed around it. The entire back wall was windows that looked out over spectacular grounds, where guests were already outside participating in whatever activities the resort had on the schedule for the day. There was a large square bar in the center of the room that already had several patrons despite the early hour.

“It’s a good thing I can’t keep my hands off you,” I muttered. “Otherwise you’d be insufferable.”

Jack leaned down and said, “It’s because you can’t keep your hands off me that you look like death warmed over right now.”

I elbowed him in the ribs as we made our way to the check-in area. It was tucked away in a glassed-in partition, and Jack held up his badge discreetly to the smiling woman behind the desk.

“We’re here to see Oliver Harris,” Jack said.

“Of course,” she said, without missing a beat. “He’s expecting you. Let me show you to his office.”

She took us across the lobby and carded herself through a side door that led into a long hallway. It was utilitarian, with gray carpet and ivory walls. There were several wooden plaques on the left side, announcing awards the resort had won.

The woman knocked on the first door on the right and waited for a response.

“It’s open,” a voice said.

She opened it and said, “Mr. Harris, you said to bring the police straight back to your office if they had more questions.”

“Of course,” Oliver said, standing behind his desk. “Would you please have some coffee sent in? I’m sure we could all use some after the morning we’ve had.”

“My pleasure,” she said, and shut the door discreetly behind her.

Now that the morning sickness had passed, coffee sounded amazing. And I wouldn’t have turned her down if she’d returned with some fancy Danishes either. I was trying to limit my coffee intake. I practically lived on coffee, so I had a complete understanding of what addicts must feel like being weaned off the hard stuff. I’d been drinking my first and only cup of the day as soon as the morning sickness passed each day. It was safest for everyone that I start out the day with a shot of caffeine.

Oliver Harris was a tall, thin man with skin the color of the foam on top of the espresso I liked to get at Lady Jane’s Donuts. He wore gray slacks and a matching four-button vest with a pale blue shirt and navy-and-silver-striped tie. His head was shaved bald and his teeth were blindingly white.

“Please, come in and sit down,” he said.

“We appreciate your time,” Jack said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Sheriff Lawson. This is Dr. Graves. She’s the coroner for King George.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand next. “Such a tragedy that has brought you here. We’re all in shock. And it’s upset many of our staff and guests. Understandably so. No one wants to think they’re in the vicinity of a murderer.”

Jack and I took our seats in the white leather chairs that faced his desk.

“We appreciate your time, Mr. Harris,” Jack said. “I know you gave Detective Cole a brief statement earlier. But would you mind running it through again for us?”

There was a soft knock at the door, and it opened again with the front desk woman pushing in a rolling cart decked out with a full coffee service and scones. I couldn’t even pretend to hide my relief. I was always ravenous after the morning sickness passed.

We paused briefly while the woman asked each of us how we liked our coffee, and then she passed them out very properly in fine china cups before letting herself out quietly.

“Please, help yourself to the scones,” Harris said, looking directly at me. “How far along are you?”

My head jerked up in surprise and he laughed.

“I’ve got six myself,” he said. “I can recognize the signs by now. My wife starts getting that look in her eye like you’ve got right now, and I know I’m in for it.”

“Six,” I said, not even able to imagine one, much less six. I helped myself and put one of the scones on the thin china plate, adding a dab of clotted cream and strawberry jam.

“A large family is something special,” he said. “My wife and I are outnumbered, but we wouldn’t change a thing. Our oldest daughter is about the same age as that girl I saw this morning. I can’t imagine what her family will go through. And I can’t imagine I’ll ever forget it. Images like that tend to stick with a man his whole life.”

“How long have you been the manager here?” Jack asked casually.

“Since we opened last year,” he said. “I was the manager at one of Mr. Riverdale’s properties up in the Poconos. When he asked me if I wanted this property five years ago I jumped at the chance. I was able to get in on the design and planning from the ground up. There were times I didn’t think we’d ever open the doors, but we did it. My family had to uproot and move states, but it was worth it.

“I’ve been in hospitality for twenty-five years,” he continued. “So I’ve seen an unusual thing or two. A few suicides and several deaths by natural causes. But I’ve never seen anything like what I saw this morning. And I hope to never see anything like it again.”

“Was anyone hanging around the lobby last night when Mr. and Mrs. Vasilios arrived?” Jack asked. “Anyone follow them in inside?”

“The lobby was crowded as usual on a Friday night, even as late as they arrived,” he said. “We have live music near the bar until two o’clock, and s’mores available at the fire pits on the lawn until midnight. I don’t normally work the night shift, but my night manager was rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy yesterday morning, so we were short staffed last night. And then two of my front desk staff are out with the flu. It seems to be making the rounds.”

He paused to take a sip of his coffee and then said, “I came out on the floor to help wherever I was needed. We had several late check-ins last night. It’s wedding season. So we were busier than usual from about eight to midnight. I knew Mr. and Mrs. Vasilios were scheduled to arrive after their wedding, and I wanted to be there to personally welcome them. They were considered to be VIP guests. No one came in with them.”

“How was their behavior?”

Oliver smiled sadly and said, “How do you think? Mr. Vasilios looked like he couldn’t wait to get to that room.”

“Not Mrs. Vasilios?” I asked.

“She looked exhausted,” he said. “And nervous. She was more than a little tipsy. So was he, but Mr. Vasilios said they’d come straight from the reception. Mrs. Vasilios was holding on to him for dear life. She was a little unsteady on her feet.

“When my daughter got married she spent most of the day throwing up,” he said, smiling fondly at the memory. “She’d worried herself sick, trying to make everything perfect. It’s a very stressful day for the bride, and I could tell that Mrs. Vasilios was at that point. I wanted to get them to the room quickly. I drove them on one of the guest golf carts to the honeymoon villa. One of the bellmen followed behind us with their luggage.”

“Tell me how you found the villa when you arrived with them,” Jack said.

“What do you mean?”

“Were the lights on or off? Was the door unlocked? That kind of thing.”

“Oh,” Oliver said, nodding. “All the lights were on, but that’s not unusual. The villa had been prepped for their arrival. But the front door was locked as it was supposed to be. I unlocked it for them myself, and I let them know we’d prepared a light snack and champagne out on the deck for them. Roger brought in the luggage behind me and placed it by the door. Mr. and Mrs. Vasilios didn’t seem too interested in the champagne and they turned down my offer to show them through the villa. Mr. Vasilios tipped both Roger and me very generously, and he closed the door behind us.”

“Who prepared the room for their arrival?” I asked.

“I’ll have to check with housekeeping and food services, but that shouldn’t be difficult to get you that information.”

“What about the other villas?” Jack asked. “Were those occupied last night?”

“We’re at full capacity for the next eight months,” Oliver said. “All of the villas are occupied.”

“We don’t want to disturb your guests,” Jack said.

“I’d greatly appreciate that,” Oliver said sincerely. “We’ve had several guests already notice the police presence, even though you’ve been working on the far edges of the property.”

“I’m going to need a list of anyone on the property last night,” Jack said. “All staff and guests.”

Mr. Harris winced apologetically. “Unfortunately, I can’t do that without a warrant. Many of our guests are well known in one capacity or another, and we assure them of their privacy.”

“I understand,” Jack said. “And I thought that might be the case. You should have an electronic warrant waiting in your email.”

Mr. Harris’s brows rose appreciatively and he turned to his computer, his fingers clicking on the keyboard.

“Very efficient,” he said. Then he typed some more and said, “Do you want me to send this list to you via your personal email?”

“Please,” Jack said, handing him a card with his information on it. “I appreciate it.”

“I want to help,” Mr. Harris said. “Believe it or not, this is one of the few instances where paperwork makes things easier.”

“Did you have any guests call in a noise complaint last night?” Jack asked. “We’re talking half a dozen gunshots that were fired into the victims. Maybe someone overheard.”

“All of our villas and estate rooms are fully soundproofed,” he said. “The only way sound would have carried is if they’d had the doors open. Even then…” Mr. Harris shrugged apologetically.

“And no cameras that observe the farthest perimeters of the property?” Jack asked.

“We have cameras on the golf cart paths and the areas where activities are held,” he said. “Also in the parking lot. We promise our more prominent guests privacy, and the truth is we’re sitting on several hundred acres of forest and cliffs. It would be impossible to put cameras in enough places to encompass it all. Though I have a feeling Mr. Riverdale is going to want to beef up perimeter security after this. Whoever killed Mr. and Mrs. Vasilios would’ve had to check in with identification at the front gate with the guard if they came in the proper way. Even staff has their own entrance and has to show ID.”

Jack moved to stand, and I followed suit, subtly brushing crumbs from my sweater. “There could have been any number of points of entry, and that’s one of the things we hope to find out soon. We appreciate your cooperation. I’m sure you’re ready to go home and get some sleep.”

Oliver stood behind his desk and looked at the gold watch on his wrist. “I’ll catch a couple of hours in one of the staff rooms. I’ve got to be back on duty at noon.”

“I hope your night manager recovers quickly,” Jack said, shaking his hand.

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” he said, smiling. “I’ll have Margaret direct you to the housekeeper and kitchen staff that prepped the room. Take one of those scones with you, Dr. Graves. You never know when you’re going to need a snack.”

“I’m more than full,” I said, slightly embarrassed because I’d been wishing I had pockets I could sneak one into. “They were delicious. This is a beautiful property. You should be very proud.”

He let out a sad sigh. “Unfortunately, I don’t feel that way right now. Not after what happened to that couple. Their deaths fall on me. I’m responsible for the safety of everyone here. And that’s something I’ve got to live with.”