Cutler 01 - Dawn

was it just me? After a few moments I fell asleep and didn't wake up until I heard shouting in the hall followed by many loud footsteps. A moment later my door was thrown open, and my grandmother burst in, followed by Sissy and Burt Hornbeck, chief of the hotel's security.
    I pulled my blanket around myself and sat up.
    "What is it?" I gasped.
    "All right," my grandmother snapped and tugged Sissy forward by the wrist so she could stand at her side and face me. Burt Hornbeck stepped up on the other side of her and stared at me. "I want you to say it all in her presence with Burt as a witness." Sissy looked down and then looked up at me slowly, her eyes wide and bright with fear. Yet there was a glint of sadness and pity in them, too.
    "Say what?" I asked. "What is this?"
    She turned on Sissy.
    "You alternated rooms, correct?" my grandmother demanded with a prosecutor's clipped, sharp tone of voice. Sissy nodded. "Speak up," my grandmother commanded.
    "Yes, ma'am," Sissy said quickly.
    "You took the odd number and she took the even?"
    "Uh-huh."
    "Then she would have been the one to clean room one-fifty?" she pursued. I looked from her to Burt Hornbeck. He was a stout, forty-year-old man with dark brown hair and small brown eyes. Whenever I had seen him before, he had always smiled warmly at me. Now he looked stern, angry, a moon locked in orbit around my grandmother's blazing face of fury and anger.
    "Yes, ma'am," Sissy said.
    "So we alternated rooms and I did the even numbers. What does this mean?" I asked.
    "Get out of bed," she ordered. I looked at Burt. I was wearing only my bra and panties. He understood and directed his gaze at the window while I rose, keeping the blanket as tightly wrapped around me as I could.
    "Are you naked?" my grandmother asked, as if to be so was a sin in her hotel.
    "No. I'm wearing underwear. What do you want?"
    "I want the return of Mrs. Clairmont's gold necklace, and I want it now," she said, her eyes fixed on me with such fire. She stuck out her palm, her long thin fingers straight.
    "What necklace?" I looked at Burt Hornbeck, but he didn't change expression.
    "There's no point in denying it now. I have managed to keep Mrs. Clairmont, one of my lifelong guests, I might add, quiet about this entire manner, but I have promised her the return of her necklace. She will get it back," she insisted, her shoulders hoisted, her neck so stiff it looked carved out of marble.
    "I didn't take her necklace!" I cried. "I don't steal."
    "Sure you don't steal," she said with ridicule and a birdlike nod. "You lived with thieves all your life and you don't steal."
    "We never stole!" I cried.
    "Never?" She twisted her lips into a cold, sharp mocking smile. My eyes fled before the onslaught of hers. My knees began to click together nervously even though I had nothing to fear. I was innocent. Swallowing first, I repeated my innocence and looked at Sissy. The poor, intimidated girl swung her eyes away quickly.
    "Tear this place apart, Burt," she ordered, "from top to bottom until you locate that necklace." Reluctantly he moved toward the small dresser. "It's not here. I told you . . . I swear . . ."
    "Do you realize," she said slowly, her eyes now like two hot coals in a stove, "how embarrassing this can be for Cutler's Cove? Never, never in the long and prestigious history of this hotel, has a guest had anything stolen out of his or her room. My staff has always consisted of hardworking people who respect other people's property. They know what it is to work here; they think of it as an honor."
    "I didn't steal it," I moaned, the tears now streaming down my cheeks. Mr. Hornbeck had everything out of my drawers and was turning the drawers over. He looked behind them in the dresser, too.
    "Sissy," my grandmother snapped, "take her bed apart. Strip off the sheets and pillowcase and turn that mattress over."
    "Yes, madam," she said and moved instantly to carry out my grandmother's orders. She gazed up at me, her eyes asking my forgiveness as she began to tear off my bed sheet.
    "I won't leave here until I have that necklace back," my grandmother insisted, folding her arms under her small bosom.
    "Then you will sleep here tonight," I said. Mr. Hornbeck turned to me, surprised at my defiance, his eyebrows raised in a question mark. I could see the doubt flash across his brow—perhaps I was innocent. He turned to my grandmother.
    Her puckered, now prune-colored mouth drew up like a drawstring purse. I watched