Max Collins - Girl Most Likely

David Landry materialized from somewhere, his attire like the lobby, half-modern, half-rustic — a stylish olive jacket, fat-knotted dark green tie, but a V-neck brown nubby sweater, fashionably worn-out jeans, and cowboy boots with (as usual with David) uplifting heels.

The resort manager came over quickly and shook first her hand and then her father’s. David and Booker nodded at each other; they’d already been consulting, about breakfast anyway.

“Now can you tell me,” David said, perhaps a shade of irritation in his voice, “what exactly is going on?”

“Astrid Lund,” Krista said, “was murdered last night. At her parents’ home after the reunion. It was a brutal crime and we’re dealing with an unknown party who is dangerously violent.”

David’s mouth had dropped open and his eyes were almost comically wide; the blood had drained from his face. He was not likely to surprise easily, she supposed, considering the kinds of things he faced in his job. But this was a rather special circumstance, wasn’t it?

“My God,” he said. “Oh my God. She was so...”

“She was a lovely girl,” Krista’s father said. “We thank you for what you’ve already done. But we need more.”

“Any way I can help,” David said, “you’ve got it.”

Krista asked, “You wouldn’t happen to remember when Astrid left the reunion?”

“I do, actually. The band was just starting a break and I glanced at my watch as Astrid was making a few goodbyes near the door. Right around ten thirty.”

Not long after she and her father had left.

Krista gestured toward the connecting hallway to the convention center. “Let’s walk and talk. The sooner I can get in front of our...” She almost said “suspects,” then considered “witnesses,” before finally settling on: “... classmates, the better.”

They walked, David between her and her father, Booker bringing up the rear.

Krista said, “We’ll need access to your security-cam footage.”

“Anything you need,” David said.

Her father asked, “Where are your cameras?”

“We have one that captures perhaps the front third of the parking lot, another on the entrance. All of the halls are monitored. Front desk. Indoor pool.”

“How about the side parking lots?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Anything on the various sides of the building?”

“Just the entrance, I’m afraid.”

Krista said, “What you do have will be helpful. As I recall, your bar closes at one a.m., right?”

“Normally. But with the reunion, we extended to two.”

That was another nice break. Her dad had told her the time of death — though hardly official — was around midnight. And by tomorrow they’d have something more definitive from the coroner.

Krista said, “We’ll need all the bar receipts that were charged to rooms. I assume your generosity didn’t extend to giving everybody free bar tabs?”

David let out a little laugh. “No. We lowered our room rates rock bottom, but we required credit cards at check-in, for incidentals, as usual. We provided food and entertainment last night, and the breakfast buffet today. But as you’ll recall, that was not an open bar last night, and this morning we’ve taken orders for mimosas, Irish coffees, Bloody Marys, and champagne cocktails.”

Behind them, Booker said, “You’re makin’ me thirsty, Mr. Landry.”

Krista smiled back at him. “Too bad you’re on duty.”

David brushed back dark hair that didn’t need it. “How long do you think you’ll be wanting the out-of-town guests to stay around?”

“With luck,” Krista said, “we’ll be able to thin this group considerably by tomorrow some time.”

“So just one night.”

“Yes. Except for any who might become persons of interest.”

“Suspects you mean?”

“Not necessarily. We just have some checking to do before we can clear them.”

Her father said, “And some won’t be completely out of the woods. We’ll have to make sure they know — if they go back to their homes elsewhere in the state, or out of state — that they may still be hearing from us.”

“I can tell you right now,” David said, “that a few people who were here last night did not come to the brunch.”

Krista asked, “Do you know specifically who that might be?”

“Oh, yes. The free brunch was offered only to our GHS 2009 classmates and significant others. For nonclassmates, it was only ten dollars. But the handful who weren’t in our class mostly took a pass — the table of teachers, for instance.”

Her father shrugged and said, “They’re all local. Easy enough to find.”

“As I mentioned,” Krista said, “this is a thinning process.”

David nodded as they walked along the sun-flooded hall with its wall of windows at left. “Is there anything in the city budget to allow for lodging these, uh, persons who may prove to be of interest?”

That locution made Pop smile. “No, Mr. Landry,” he said, “I don’t believe there is. Your out-of-town guests are a captive audience for us and the lodge.”

David was frowning in thought. “Look, we’ll comp them for a few days, if need be. It’s off-season. Maybe that’ll help you out some.”

“That would be great, David,” Krista said.

Behind them, Booker said, “You got a spare whirlpool room I could use? Just so I got somewhere to work out of.”

Krista looked back at him, amused. “We only have your services for today, Sergeant, as I recall. Your court date tomorrow?”

“Earliest I’ll testify is afternoon. Maybe I can help tomorrow morning. Lotta folks to sort through.”

Krista told the resort manager, “Sergeant Jackson will be sleeping at home tonight, David. He’s just kidding.”

On the square.

David’s forehead frowned though his mouth smiled a little. “Well, I’m sincere about the offer — for extending stays and comping anybody you need access to.”

Her father said, “Very generous, Mr. Landry. I think we can move this along quick enough to not wear out our welcome.”

They were just outside the banquet hall now.

David asked, “Anything else I can do?”

Krista said, “Do you know of anyone who checked out early?”

“I don’t think anyone did, but I can look into that.”

“Please.”

“You mean... now?”

Her father gave David a single nod.

“Uh, anything else you need?” The resort manager was just starting to look like maybe they were pushing it.

Her pop said, “Yes. Keep taking drink orders. It’ll help us both.”

David grinned, nodded, and headed back the way they’d come.

When the trio entered the open-beam-ceilinged banquet hall, all eyes went to them, none very friendly. Many attendees were still eating. The tall windows onto the lake were streaming sunshine, but the murmur among the guests was like the rumbling that threatens thunder. Again, tables for six were scattered around the room. Everyone seemed to have dressed for the church services they skipped.

Krista positioned herself before them and said, in a loud, clear voice, the murmuring cutting off as if a switch had been thrown, “Please go on with your breakfast. We’ll be with you shortly. Thank you for your patience, and your cooperation.”

The murmuring switched back on, perhaps a little softer.

Booker was already at the breakfast buffet. She and her father joined him. The big man was piling on the scrambled eggs, French toast slices, hash browns, and sausage links. Krista took a bagel and a dollop of cream cheese, then got a small orange juice and some coffee. Her dad took the same as Booker, only about a fourth of the quantity. He got himself some iced tea.

Booker led them to the only remaining empty table, just inside the door. Krista was happy not to be stuck in that bright sunshine. This might be technically a beautiful day, but not really.