Murder With Reservations Read Free Page A

foul, like something had d—
    Helen put the brakes on that train of thought. She tried to avoid the monstrous sluglike body on the bed, but it seemed to glow and pulse in the dim light like an alien creature.
    Denise put a motherly arm around the shrieking maid. “Rhonda, honey, it’s OK. Go downstairs to the breakfast room and get yourself some hot tea with lots of sugar.” Denise pushed Rhonda toward the door. The maid moved like an extra in Day of the Dead, but at least she’d quit screaming.
    Helen was slightly dazed by the sudden silence.
    “Don’t stand there, Helen,” Denise said. “Call 911 and get that ambulance. It’s hot in here.” She mopped her face with a wad of tissues, then turned on the room’s air conditioner.
    She’s disturbing the crime scene, Helen thought. “We want homicide, right?” she said.
    “What for?” Denise said.
    “For the dead man,” Helen said.
    Denise laughed, loud and hard. The barroom laugh sounded strange coming from this maternal white-haired woman. “He’s not dead. He’s dead drunk.”
    Denise reached under the bedspread and fished out two empty fifths of Jack Daniel’s. “His pal Jack here knocked him out. I’m sending him to the hospital to protect our hotel from liability, in case he’s in an alcoholic coma or had a heart attack. Personally, I think he’s healthy as a horse. But Rhonda’s screaming could wake the dead, and it didn’t make him twitch, so we gotta have him checked. Besides, I want to make sure he’s well enough to cough up the money to repair this room and 223. I hope we got his credit card imprint. Big Boy here will pay for your overtime.”
    There was a ripping sound, as if a giant had torn the bedspread in two. The reek in the room grew worse.
    “You’ll probably want to call from downstairs,” De-nise said. “Hurry, before I kill this gasbag myself.”
    Helen left. She would have laughed if she hadn’t been so scared. She would have danced down the hall if her knees weren’t so wobbly. The body on the bed wasn’t dead. The cops wouldn’t find her. Her ex wouldn’t know where she was. She was safe and snug in South Florida, where everyone was from somewhere else.
    She’d still ask Sondra to call 911 from the front desk, in case the police showed up anyway. The Full Moon was in Seafield Village, a little community that fit into Fort Lauderdale like a puzzle piece. Helen figured the Seafield police must talk to the Lauderdale cops. She didn’t want them comparing notes about her.
    The paramedics turned up twelve minutes later in a shiny red ambulance. No police cars were in its wake. Helen felt her heart flutter when three tanned hunks rolled a stretcher into the lobby.
    “Where is he?” the hunk with the broadest shoulders said.
    “Up on three,” Helen said, leading the hotties to the elevator. It was a tight fit with the strapping men and the stretcher. That was fine with Helen.
    “Naturally,” the hunk with the wavy blond hair said. “They’re always on the top floor. I bet he’s overweight, too.”
    “And naked,” Helen said.
    “How come the good-looking guys are never naked?” the third hunk with the sapphire eyes said. The other two paramedics nodded. Helen’s fantasies were DOA before the elevator doors opened.
    By the time the corpulent, crepitant occupant of room 323 was loaded up and wheeled out, Rhonda had recovered from the shock of seeing his undead body. She was back in the room, pale as old paper and bristling with resentment.
    Denise bustled in with two portable fans. “Run these to dry the carpet around the bathroom door,” she said. “Wipe down all the surfaces, strip the bed to the mattress, send the spread to the laundry, and mop up as much water as you can in the bathroom. At least you won’t have to clean the tub.”
    Denise grinned. Rhonda didn’t laugh. She waited till Denise left, then wielded the mop with vicious swings, slopping more water on the already wet carpet. “This is the