Murder With Reservations by Elaine Viets Page A

in no mood to flirt. “Listen, there’s a problem,” she said. “There’s been an accident. We found a dead woman in the Dumpster.”
    “You’re kidding,” he said.
    “I’m not. It’s the maid you replaced, Rhonda. The police don’t want us to leave the hotel. You can wait with us downstairs.”
    “Why do I have to stay?” he said. “I didn’t know her.”
    “It’s what the cops want,” she said. “Denise sent me to get you.”
    “OK,” he said, and shrugged. He trotted alongside her like a puppy. But now Helen had no thoughts for her cute companion. Rhonda’s death—no, murder— had finally sunk in. The police were on their way to the Full Moon. They’d be Seafield Village cops. Would they know the Lauderdale police? She’d had bad luck finding bodies. She didn’t want the homicide detectives getting too interested in her.
    In the sun-flooded lobby, a gaunt older man was violently shaking the hotel’s front door.
    “Why is this door locked?” he demanded. He had bird legs, Bermuda shorts and an angry red complexion. “I demand an explanation.”
    Denise came hurrying in, making soothing sounds. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s been a problem. The police have requested that all staff and guests remain in the hotel for a short time.”
    “What? I’m a prisoner? What kind of problem? I’m not here for problems. I’m on vacation.”
    “One of our maids was found dead, sir,” Denise said. “The police are on their way.”
    “What does that have to do with me?” he said.
    “I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Denise began.
    “Inconvenience! I have dinner plans at the country club. This isn’t my problem. I don’t talk to the help.”
    You’re talking to the help right now, you old creep, Helen thought.
    “I’m sorry, sir, but our instructions are—”
    “I’ll make sure this hotel loses its stars and AAA rating, young lady,” he said. “This is an outrage. I can’t believe I’m delayed for a maid.” He spit out the last word, then stalked over to the elevators, leaving behind an ugly silence.
    “I’d better stay at the front desk in case more guests show up,” Denise said. “Sondra’s guarding the Dumpster and talking to the 911 operator on her cell phone. She has to stay on the line until the police arrive. Helen, will you and Craig go into the laundry room and fix Cheryl a cup of tea?”
    Tea. Denise’s remedy for everything from man trouble to murder. Rhonda had been the last person dosed with hot tea, after she found the body in room 323. Now we’ve found her body. It was a sickening thought.
    Cheryl was sitting on a pile of unfolded sheets, still sniffling. Craig threw himself down on a wide laundry table.
    “Don’t get too comfortable.” Helen filled a cup with tap water and handed it to him. “Go find a tea bag in the breakfast room and nuke this.”
    Craig did not look pleased to be an errand boy, but Helen was not going out in the hall. She couldn’t risk running into Rob.
    Cheryl’s eyelids were swollen and puffy, and her cheeks were wet with tears. Helen patted her back, like a mother soothing a sick baby. Cheryl is a kind person, she thought. She must feel really guilty about the mean things she said about Rhonda. But we all said them. I blurted something far worse in the Dumpster.
    Craig returned with the tea, then went back to sprawling on the laundry table. Helen added three packs of sugar to the cup and took it to Cheryl.
    “Here,” she said.”Drink this.You’ll feel better. Cheryl, don’t blame yourself. We all said things we wish we hadn’t about Rhonda. We didn’t know she was dead.”
    Cheryl took a sip of tea, wiped her eyes, and said, “I feel bad about Rhonda, but that’s not why I’m crying. When the police get here, they’re going to find out about my record.”
    “What record?” Helen said. She looked at Cheryl’s curly brown head and innocent eyes and wondered what kind of trouble the little maid could get into.
    “I