Murder With Reservations by Elaine Viets Page B

got busted for shoplifting right after Angel was born,” Cheryl said.
    “What did you take?” Helen asked.
    “Disposable diapers.”
    Craig burst out laughing. It was a hard, cruel sound. Suddenly Helen didn’t think he was quite so cute.
    “It’s not funny,” Cheryl said. “Diapers are expensive. Angel’s daddy wouldn’t give me any money and I didn’t know what to do. The store prosecuted me and I got probation.”
    “We’re not laughing at you,” Helen said. “But you aren’t exactly Ted Bundy. You were just a mom with money worries. This is murder. The police are going to be looking for someone who did more than boost diapers.”
    Someone like me, she thought, who keeps finding dead people.
    Cheryl took a gulp of tea this time. “You’re right. I feel guilty saying nasty things about Rhonda. Three days ago she offered me a hundred dollars to buy presents for my little girl. I turned her down because I didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. How could I be so mean? She was just trying to be nice.” Her voice wobbled, but this time she didn’t cry.
    Helen wondered where Rhonda got a hundred bucks—and the fifty she flashed with her dinner invitation. Who was paying her, and why? Was it the mysterious boyfriend?
    Or did she find the bank robbery stash? The Full Moon was one giant treasure hunt. Illegal, illicit, ill-gotten money trailed through the hotel, making people crazier than crack. It had sensible Denise looking in the potted-palm pot and Sondra taking apart the air vent. Cheryl admitted she’d searched every room in the hotel. They were all obsessed with finding that money.
    Suppose Rhonda had found it and refused to share the wealth? Would a coworker murder her in a burst of rage?
    Helen thought of plump, solid Denise. Could she kill for cash? She was strong enough to beat Rhonda to death. What about Cheryl, hoping for a better life for her child? Would mother love drive her to murder? Did clever Sondra, working long hours to make it through school, finally snap? A cold cash compress could cure their ills.
    Suddenly Cheryl was crying again. Her loud wails were joined by the sirens. The police had arrived.
     

 

    T o meet the homicide detective, Helen donned her cloak of invisibility. The hotel cleaning smock had amazing powers—it could transform a hot babe into a hag. When Helen put it on, she felt like she’d been cursed by an evil witch. Her shoulders slumped, her waist thickened, and her hips widened. Its mustard color turned her skin the tone of old curry.
    Helen had winced the first time she’d seen herself in a hotel mirror wearing the ugly yellow smock. Rhonda had stood behind her, pouring vitriol in her ear. “You look like hell in that,” Rhonda’d said. “We all do. It’s designed that way, to keep us in our place. Men will still hit on you, but it’s no compliment. They grabbed poor Naomi’s ass, and she looked like your granny. They think we’re one of the hotel freebies. Wash your hair with the free shampoo, plug your computer in the free port and stick your dick in the maid.”
    Helen had laughed then. Now she heard the bitterness in those words.
    Oh, Rhonda, she wondered. What did you do to escape the life you hated? Did it kill you?
    Helen couldn’t ask the homicide detective those questions. He’d interviewed the weeping Cheryl and the cell phone-wielding Sondra first. Denise stayed out by the front desk to handle surly guests, with a police officer standing nearby. Helen and Craig were sent to separate rooms, and Sybil sat in her smoky office. Helen thought the Full Moon’s owner must be cured like a ham, she spent so much time sitting in smoke.
    Helen was glad she had to wait for her interview in the laundry room. She washed her face and hands and cleaned the Dumpster stink off her shoes with a powerful disinfectant. She couldn’t do anything about her stained jeans, but she changed her dirty smock for a fresh one.
    Then she paced for nearly forty-five