Rachel Alexander 03 - A Hell of a Dog

“You’re dropping like flies.”
    We landed on three, and Jimmy opened the door. The hall was empty as far as I could see, all the way to the bend.
    “How’d that feller get up on the roof this morning? That’s what I want to know. It’s locked up tight.”
    “Was that what the police said, that he jumped off the roof?“
    “Insurance,” he said, sounding just like his dad. “Got to keep it locked.”
    “Is it possible someone left the door unlocked?” I asked him. “You know, last time they were up there, checking the exhaust fans or whatever.”
    “Door self-locks. Just like the rooms. Closes and locks without a key.”
    “Anyone missing a passkey?”
    He stuck his skinny neck out of the cage, checking out the empty hallway. Then he stood straight as a lamppost in his little corner, chin in, hands on the wheel. “I wouldn’t know about that, missus,” he said.
    Yeah, right.
    “I thought maybe your dad might have mentioned something,” I said, sticking my hand in my pocket, pulling out a twenty, folding it in half, then in half again. Money talks, they say. I wanted to see if it was so.
    Jimmy cleared his throat. “Didn’t,” he said. “The mean old coot I hardly talk to him, if I can avoid it.”
    “Well, thank the good Lord you’re an adult. At least you don’t have to live with him.”
    “But I do. It’s my duty, he says, as his son. What kind of a man would leave his old da alone? he asks me, any damn time I even think about moving out. He can read my mind, that one. And he’s mean. Always has been. He’s not going to change now.”
    “Guess not,” I said. “Well, thanks for the ride. And for trying to answer my question. I know you would have if you could have.” I handed him the twenty and walked off the elevator. But then I stopped, because I didn’t hear the gate closing.
    “Maid said one was missing,” he told my back.
    I turned around.
    “Is that a fact?”
    “Mercedes.The redhead? One that found the body in the bathtub,” he whispered. He stepped out of the elevator now, stood next to me in the hallway. “Asked me what to do. Was afraid she’d get fired.”
    “How’d she lose it?”
    “Didn’t lose it,” he said. “Someone swiped it off her cart. Happens from time to time. A guest forgets to pick up the key at the front desk and doesn’t want the bother of going all the way back downstairs again, so he picks up the maid’s key. Wouldn’t be so bad if he were decent enough to put it back. I told her it happens, told her just like I told you, but don’t tell the manager, I said. He might not be so understanding. She said the door was propped open—you don’t prop it, it locks. Always leaves it open when she’s cleaning. Feels safer that way. Cart was right in front of the doorway. Someone would have had to move it to get in the room. Didn’t see anyone near the cart. Doesn’t know how it could have happened. I said, Don’t you worry. I’ll get you another one. Told Pop to go get hisself a coffee, I’d watch the front. She’s supporting a little girl and her mum. Can’t have her losing her job.” We heard the buzzer ring inside the cage.
    “Thanks, Jimmy. ”
    “Now, don’t go telling nobody what I told you, get Mercedes fired.”
    “You can trust me,” I told him, heading for my room to go snooping around in other people’s business.
    I got back downstairs in time to hear the end of Chip’s talk. Sam was sitting in the back now.
    “There you are,” she said. “I looked around for you in the break, but I didn’t see you.”
    “Headache,” I said. “I went upstairs for a while.”
    She nodded. “Do you need an aspirin?”
    “No, I’m better now. Any news?”
    “Detective DeAndrea came by. He said they’re going to handle Martyn’s death as a homicide. I’m not sure what their thinking is. It’s possible they’re doing this because of the children. Martyn’s wife can’t collect on his insurance if his death goes on the books as a suicide.”
    “They know about his children?”
    "They asked about his family,” Sam said, “where they were, if he got along with them, if he’d had any phone calls in the last twenty-four hours, something that might have upset him, if he seemed depressed, all of that.”
    “And you said?”
    “That he was a devoted husband and father, that he didn’t seem in the least bit depressed. What did you find in the phone records?”
    “I haven’t had the chance to look at them yet,” I