Page 8 of Dirty Liars

Mr. Harris winced apologetically. “Unfortunately, I can’t do that without a warrant. Many of our guests are well known in one capacity or another, and we assure them of their privacy.”

“I understand,” Jack said. “And I thought that might be the case. You should have an electronic warrant waiting in your email.”

Mr. Harris’s brows rose appreciatively and he turned to his computer, his fingers clicking on the keyboard.

“Very efficient,” he said. Then he typed some more and said, “Do you want me to send this list to you via your personal email?”

“Please,” Jack said, handing him a card with his information on it. “I appreciate it.”

“I want to help,” Mr. Harris said. “Believe it or not, this is one of the few instances where paperwork makes things easier.”

“Did you have any guests call in a noise complaint last night?” Jack asked. “We’re talking half a dozen gunshots that were fired into the victims. Maybe someone overheard.”

“All of our villas and estate rooms are fully soundproofed,” he said. “The only way sound would have carried is if they’d had the doors open. Even then…” Mr. Harris shrugged apologetically.

“And no cameras that observe the farthest perimeters of the property?” Jack asked.

“We have cameras on the golf cart paths and the areas where activities are held,” he said. “Also in the parking lot. We promise our more prominent guests privacy, and the truth is we’re sitting on several hundred acres of forest and cliffs. It would be impossible to put cameras in enough places to encompass it all. Though I have a feeling Mr. Riverdale is going to want to beef up perimeter security after this. Whoever killed Mr. and Mrs. Vasilios would’ve had to check in with identification at the front gate with the guard if they came in the proper way. Even staff has their own entrance and has to show ID.”

Jack moved to stand, and I followed suit, subtly brushing crumbs from my sweater. “There could have been any number of points of entry, and that’s one of the things we hope to find out soon. We appreciate your cooperation. I’m sure you’re ready to go home and get some sleep.”

Oliver stood behind his desk and looked at the gold watch on his wrist. “I’ll catch a couple of hours in one of the staff rooms. I’ve got to be back on duty at noon.”

“I hope your night manager recovers quickly,” Jack said, shaking his hand.

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” he said, smiling. “I’ll have Margaret direct you to the housekeeper and kitchen staff that prepped the room. Take one of those scones with you, Dr. Graves. You never know when you’re going to need a snack.”

“I’m more than full,” I said, slightly embarrassed because I’d been wishing I had pockets I could sneak one into. “They were delicious. This is a beautiful property. You should be very proud.”

He let out a sad sigh. “Unfortunately, I don’t feel that way right now. Not after what happened to that couple. Their deaths fall on me. I’m responsible for the safety of everyone here. And that’s something I’ve got to live with.”

CHAPTERFOUR

“I liked him,”I said while we searched for room 314. That’s where Dorinda Lake, the housekeeper who’d done turndown service on the honeymoon villa, was supposedly located.

“Oliver Harris?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sometimes you meet people and you know they’re a really good person. Just deep down. He’d be a good friend.”

Jack’s mouth quirked at the corner, but he didn’t say anything. It was probably best I couldn’t read his mind.

We found Dorinda Lake in room 314. She was a short, plump woman with skin so pale it was almost translucent and shockingly dark corkscrew curls that were pulled back from her round face with a headband.

“Thank you for speaking with us,” Jack said. “We won’t take up much of your time.”

“Not a problem,” she said, giving us a sweet smile and stripping the sheets off the bed. “As long as I can talk while I work. I’m working this floor by myself today.”

“You were on shift last night?” Jack asked.

“I was,” she said, making the bed with shocking speed and snapping the covers so they were crisp. “I filled in for Linda so she could go to her daughter’s dance recital. I normally work the eight-to-four shift.”

She moved over and emptied the trash cans and gathered dirty dishes. “Would you look at that?” She showed us a plate filled with ashes and cigarette butts. “They know this is a no-smoking property, yet they do it anyway. Drives me mad. So disgusting. I always make a note so they get fined on their credit card, but most of the people who stay here have enough money that they don’t care. They’re used to doing what they want.”

She muttered to herself as she finished cleaning trash and clutter and then wiped down the surfaces.

“What time did you do turndown service for the honeymoon villa?” Jack asked.

“About eight thirty or so,” she said. “I saved it for last for turndown because I knew the guests weren’t scheduled to arrive until later.”

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