A/N: Aha, so Smithy strikes again. She is indeed correct about my error of upper state New York. Thanks, Smithy! I think you should proofread these chapters before I post them. :) A big thank you to those who have left a review. It's always nice to read those, even when they prove me wrong. Actually, those are probably the most helpful. :)
Chapter 6
Bess and Nancy jumped out of bed. It was late and they rushed to get ready for their meeting with Mr. Airedale. Clothes were fished out of suitcases, hair dryers blazed, curling irons waited patiently getting hotter by the second, and the gorgeous ocean view went completely unnoticed.
At last, Nancy pulled the room door shut behind them.
Bess looked at her watch and wailed, "Oh my goodness, we don't even have time for breakfast."
Nancy was incredulous. "You didn't think we would, did you?"
"Well, I was hoping we'd have time to grab something. I'm starving."
Nancy glanced at her watch. It was almost nine. "We have to hurry," she warned and sped up. Nancy hated being late. It was very unprofessional and being unprofessional was the last impression she wanted to make on Mr. Airedale.
Unbeknownst to Nancy and Bess a similar conversation was taking place a few floors below. The blond half of another duo was also grumbling about the lack of breakfast.
"Hey," the older, dark-haired brother said, "you had a midnight snack. You have no right to complain."
"Nine hours ago! That snack was nine hours ago," Joe pointed out and his stomach rumbled in agreement. "If we're going diving this morning I have to have something to eat."
"Don't worry," Frank said as the brothers entered the elevator. "We'll eat as soon as we're finished meeting with Mr. Airedale. Dang it. I hate being late."
And I hate missing breakfast, Joe thought as the elevator carried them to the tenth floor.
The hotel management had moved Mr. Airedale to room ten twenty-five. His previous room, ten-eighteen, was officially off-limits. Yellow tape crisscrossed the door. The room was still being processed by a forensics team.
Frank and Joe strode quickly down the hall and passed room ten-eighteen. Black fingerprint dust was visible around the door handle and on the door frame.
Frank shuddered at the thought of what happened behind that door. The pure terror that poor woman must have felt. Why, he wondered, why had Gwen Airedale been murdered? He felt the answer to that question lay in Gwen herself. Frank was certain the more he knew about her, the better chance he, Joe and Nancy had of discovering her murderer.
"We're here," Joe said and tapped on the door of room ten twenty-five.
Melinda Smith opened the door and Joe flinched. Melinda was dressed all in black. Black pumps, a tight black dress with plunging neckline and slits up the sides. The slits revealed her best feature, a stunning pair of legs. Ruby red lipstick and a bright red necklace added a dramatic effect. It also intensified the contrast of her white skin against the black.
"Please come in," Melinda's said, her voice cordial.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee and food – yes food – wafted toward the brothers as they entered the well-appointed suite. Joe and his stomach eagerly followed Melinda into a large kitchen and dining area. A coffee station was set up in one corner of the kitchen's granite countertop. It offered locally grown Kona coffee, an assortment of tea, and freshly squeezed orange juice.
Bess and Nancy stood at the counter stirring their coffees. They greeted Frank and Joe with smiles and nods.
Warming trays of scrambled eggs and sausage were set up near the coffee station. A long dining table boosted platters of cheeses, fresh fruit, breads, butter and jams.
Melinda stood next to the table and said, "Mr. Airedale offers his sincere apologies, but he is running late this morning. Several issues have suddenly come up that he must attend to.
"The police have called with more questions," she sounded as if the police were interfering children, "and then there is the pressing issue of Friday's show. Everyone wants to know if the show is still on, which it is. And of course, condolence calls have been pouring in."
Her speech finished, she motioned at the food and drinks. "Please, help yourselves to refreshments and food while you wait. I'll return shortly." She turned and walked down a long hallway and disappeared into a room.
Joe grabbed a plate and ladled scrambled eggs onto it. "She doesn't have to tell me twice. I'm starving." He moved to the sausage tray.
Bess joined him. "Me, too."
Nancy and Frank followed suit and the group was soon seated at the table enjoying a simple, yet delicious breakfast.
Bess spread apricot flavored butter on a roll and murmured, "I can't imagine what Mr. Airedale is going through. I wonder if there's anything I can do to help?"
Joe lifted a forkful of eggs. "I wonder if we're still doing guard duty for the fashion show?"
Frank took a bite of eggs, swallowed, and said, "That's just one of the many things we need to ask Mr. Airedale this morning. I think we should make a list of questions so we don't forget any."
Nancy retrieved her trusty notepad and pen from her handbag and held them up. "I'll write down our questions. Number one, are we still on guard duty?"
"We need to know the names of the local detectives assigned to the case," Frank said, reaching for the cheese platter.
Nancy wrote while Joe speared a sausage link and said, "We need to ask Mr. Airedale if he knows something he didn't tell the police?" He hitched a thumb toward his brother. "I agree with Frank's theory. I think Mr. Airedale knows something."
Frank popped a cheese cube in his mouth. "Let's break the ice first though by asking him what the police told him. Do they know the type of murder weapon? How'd the killer get in? Was the door locked?"
"Whoa! Slow down a bit." Nancy chuckled and wrote as fast as she could using her own personal shorthand.
A door down the long hall opened and Melinda emerged. "Mr. Airedale will see you in a few minutes," she told the group. "We'll meet in the living room." She went to the coffee station and poured a cup of black coffee; no sugar, no cream.
Joe stuffed one more sausage link and some eggs in his mouth. The others quickly finished their food, patted their mouths, and pushed back their chairs.
Soon, everyone followed Melinda in to the living room. She placed the steaming cup of coffee on the glass coffee table and motioned for everyone to take a seat.
There was plenty of seating. Two long cream-colored sofas faced each other across the coffee table. Two large armchairs completed the seating options. A row of floor to ceiling windows and glass doors flooded the room with light.
Nancy, with her notepad ready, sat next to Frank on one sofa. Bess and Joe chose the armchairs at either end of the coffee table. Melinda remained standing, waiting for her employer. The wait was short. Lance Airedale appeared in the large doorway and Frank, Nancy, Joe, and Bess rose to greet him.
Frank extended a hand. "Mr. Airedale, I'm Frank Hardy."
Mr. Airedale shook Frank's hand. "Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking the case."
Frank did the introductions, "This is my brother, Joe, and this is Nancy Drew."
Mr. Airedale gave each detective a sincere handshake and then said, "Please, sit." He nodded at Bess. "Good morning, Bess."
Bess was stunned by her employer's haggard appearance. Although impeccably dressed, dark circles under his eyes told of a sleepless night. The grief Bess and Nancy had seen yesterday had deepened as if it had seeped into Lance Airedale's very soul.
The once straight and tall, debonair man now slouched. He was a man going through the motions of everyday life, but at the same time trying desperately to find his way out of the darkness that had descended upon him in one cruel, vicious act.
Lance Airedale lowered himself onto the sofa next to Melinda. "You're young," he said to the three detectives.
Melinda pushed the coffee she'd prepared closer to her boss.
"Thank you, Melinda." He took a sip and said, "Melinda checked your resumes and they speak for themselves. I have to say I was very impressed." He paused a beat and his eyes clouded. "I'll be perfectly honest. The police consider me the prime suspect. And I'm telling you right now, I did not kill my wife. I loved my wife. I would never wish her any harm." He studied the young faces around him, reading their reactions.
He saw sincere expressions of belief, or at least the willingness to believe him. Satisfied, he said, "I want you to find my wife's killer and prove my innocence."
Frank leaned forward. "Sir, speaking for the group, I'd like to offer our condolences and assure you that we're going to do everything in our power to find the person, or persons, responsible."
Lance Airedale nodded slowly. He'd responded to so many words of sympathy over the past eighteen hours that he simply had nothing left to say. He couldn't bear to say the words 'thank you' one more time and really, what did he have to be thankful for?
"If you don't mind, sir," Frank said, "we have some questions for you. Your answers could help us in our investigation."
"Oh, yes, of course." Mr. Airedale hadn't expected to be questioned.
"I'm sure the police asked you this same question, but we need to ask it as well. Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your wife?" Frank kept his gaze firmly on the man sitting across from him.
Nancy sat with her notepad perched on her knee and her pen ready. Joe leaned forward anxious to hear Mr. Airedale's answer.
Lance Airedale sighed heavily. "You're right. The police did ask me that and I've racked my brain thinking about it. I've considered all her friends, our friends, my staff … and I … I keep coming up empty."
Frank decided to press to further. "Sir, I was wondering if maybe you had a feeling or perhaps a sense that something wasn't right. You may know something that you're not even aware that you know."
Mr. Airedale's startled expression caught Frank's keen eye.
"You're quite perceptive, young man. I .. I didn't say anything to the police yesterday, or this morning, they seem quite intent on keeping me persona non grata. But, yes, there is something. I hesitate to even mention it. I can't be even sure if it's important or if I'm just imagining things. To be honest, with all that's happened, I'm not sure I can trust my memory of the last two days."
Mr. Airedale was clearly distraught. His emotions swung from one extreme to another; grief, anger, and denial. Acceptance was a still long way off.
Nancy took over. Her gentle voice soothed the man's frayed nerves. "Anything you can tell us, Mr. Airedale, would be helpful, no matter how small or insignificant, or ridiculous you think it might be. Sometimes, it's the smallest clue that solves a case."
Melinda leaned over and whispered in Mr. Airedale's ear. His brow creased as he listened to Melinda. When she was finished, he spoke to the group, "There is something. Actually, it's more a feeling I had. I shared this with Melinda last night and she has just reminded me of it.
"Shortly after Gwen and I arrived at the hotel I sensed something was wrong. She seemed afraid. Maybe afraid is too strong a word. Maybe it was more like she was uneasy about something."
This was a new wrinkle in the mystery, Nancy thought, and asked, "Was there any particular thing your wife did or said that made you feel that way?"
"Yes. For weeks before we left on this trip and on the flight over, all Gwen talked about was what she wanted to do when we got here. She'd created a long to do list. She'd never been to Hawaii before and was, understandably, excited about our trip. This was going to be sort of a second honeymoon for us and to that end, she'd made me promise we would start with a stroll on the beach and a tropical drink in our hands. I gladly promised her we would. As I said, I loved my wife.
"Gwen had done her homework. She'd spent days on the Internet looking up the hotel and planning out which restaurants we'd eat at, what activities she'd wanted to do during our stay. So, I was more than a little surprised when she practically begged me to cancel our dinner plans the first night. When she didn't want to take the stroll on the beach either, I became concerned and started questioning her. She brushed my concerns aside saying she had a headache after the long flight. I accepted that, that made sense, but then when I said I was going to check out the hotel while she rested, she became almost frantic. It was clear she didn't want me to leave the room. That's when I really started questioning her. She was evasive and that made me more concerned. Just as my concerns were growing, she suddenly changed her mind. Suddenly, she wanted a drink and the stroll on the beach."
It was clear to the group that Mr. Airedale was perplexed by his late wife's shifting mood. He continued, "She seemed to relax once we had our drinks and strolling along the beach. However, I remember thinking she seemed to cling to me a little tighter than usual. Of course, I didn't mind. We were together and she seemed happy again. By the time we met Melinda for dinner I'd forgotten all about Gwen's change in mood."
Melinda said, "As Mr. Airedale said, we talked about this last night. I told him I too, had sensed an unease about Gwen. I can't really put my finger on anything specific. The only way I can describe it is that she seemed watchful or on alert. It was as if she were on the lookout for someone. She was very discreet about it though, just quick little glances at the door and at other diners in the restaurant. I asked her if she were looking for someone and she smiled, sort of played it off saying that she was keeping an eye out for old friends and acquaintances. This was the first fashion show she'd been to since marrying Mr. Airedale and coming to work for Airedale Fashions, so it made perfect sense that she might be looking for people she'd worked with in the past."
There was a lapse in the conversation as the detectives processed this information.
Finally, Frank said, "Thank you both for sharing that information. It could prove very useful. We have another question. Has robbery been ruled out as a motive?"
"I'm not sure," Mr. Airedale said. "The police have considered that possibility and instructed me to thoroughly check mine and … and Gwen's belongings. I haven't found anything missing. Melinda helped me check."
Mr. Airedale reached for his coffee.
Melinda smoothed her shiny black hair behind an ear. "That's what the police were calling about this morning. They're still checking fingerprints but they didn't sound hopeful. It's a hotel, the detective informed me, there are thousands of fingerprints to sort through. Mr. Airedale and I were fingerprinted last night. The detective did not sound very hopeful that the fingerprints would lead to a suspect."
Some of the team's questions now had answers.
Frank looked at Nancy's notepad and then at Melinda and Mr. Airedale. "Do you know what type of weapon was used? Or how the killer got in the room?"
Mr. Airedale sipped his coffee and shook his head. "No idea. The police haven't shared any information with me."
"We'd like the names of the local detectives assigned to the case," Nancy said. "We'll contact them and see what information they're willing share with us."
"Melinda will get you their names and phone numbers and anything else you need." Mr. Airedale checked his watch. "I'm sorry, I have other business matters to attend to and .. and funeral arrangements to make."
He turned to Bess who'd sat quietly throughout the discussion. "Bess, I'm going to need your help now more than ever. I'm leaving the show in your's and Melinda's capable hands. She'll let you know what you'll be doing."
Bess was stunned. It took a moment for Mr. Airedale's words to sink in. "Of course, Mr. Airedale. Anything I can do to help."
She wouldn't let Mr. Airedale down, not now, not when he needed her the most. It pained Bess to see her boss in such utter despair. His eyes had once shone brightly displaying a zest for life. Now, that light was gone, violently snuffed out. Bess wanted desperately to bring a little of that light back.
Mr. Airedale rose and so did everyone else. He shook each detective's hand, nodded his thanks, and departed. Everyone was left standing around the coffee table.
Joe asked Melinda Smith the one and only question he had, "Are we still on guard duty?"
Joe's boyish demeanor and question amused Melinda. A coltish smile curled the corners of her ruby red lips. "No, I've already hired a team to replace you. Mr. Airedale wants the three of you to focus on finding the killer and clearing his name."