Double the Lies by Patricia Raybon

Author:Patricia Raybon [Raybon, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / Suspense, FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9781496458452
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers
Published: 2023-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”

SH, THE ADVENTURE OF THE MUSGRAVE RITUAL

THE STANLEY HOTEL WAS A GLORY. Built on a rise before the Lumpy Ridge mountains outside Estes Park, it sprawled out, resort-like, from a center lobby that led guests to 142 richly appointed rooms. Or that’s what the blizzard of postcards, brochures, and printed publicity mailed and passed out on street corners since the hotel’s 1909 opening all declared.

Annalee only knew one thing: She didn’t dare approach the grand porched entrance or step inside the front doors. Standing outside, watching fancy cars come and go, she set her jaw and turned to walk, head held high, beyond the front entryway toward the hotel’s back side—as if she had a reason to be in this setting. She made her way past several small side doors, finally seeing one marked Service.

It opened almost immediately, a tall colored man in black tuxedo pants and white waiter’s jacket stepping out to light a cigarette. He frowned at her but said hello. “Need something, honey?”

“A telephone. I need to call Denver, but I don’t have any change. My pocketbook is gone.”

“Gone? You mean stolen? At the hotel?”

“Well, it’s—”

“You work here?”

She twisted her mouth. What in the world could she say to this man that would make any sense? No, I don’t work here. I just fell out of the sky in a smuggler’s busted-up airplane.

She decided to level with him. “I’m in a jam.”

“I can see that.”

“I need help.”

The man squinted at her. “Do I know you?”

The door opened again. Two more Negro men in waiter’s jackets and tuxedo pants came out, gave a wave to the first waiter, then gave Annalee a curious, quick glance but kept walking. They headed west toward the mountains, talking and smoking.

“The less you know the better,” Annalee whispered to the first waiter. “But is there a telephone, out of the way, where I can make a quick call?”

The waiter shook his head. “I need my job. I got a family.”

“I understand—”

“You Pastor Blake’s lady friend?” He peered at her harder. “That detective?”

“You know Pastor Blake? Have you seen him?”

He shook his head again. “You better leave. You can’t go in here.”

“I won’t get you in trouble, sir. But I need a telephone!”

The man mumbled, “Lord, have mercy.” He glanced around, opened the service door a few inches, stepped back when two more tuxedoed Black men pushed the door open wider and walked out, both carrying sheet music and trumpet cases.

They greeted him with a friendly salute. “Hey there, Johnny.”

“Have a good night,” the waiter called after them, watching them walk away, turn a bend, and disappear into the evening twilight.

Then in a flash, the waiter swung wide the door again, gestured Annalee inside, fast-walked down a long, half-lit hallway, turned back, whispering, “Say nothing.”

She nodded. They were in the bowels of the hotel’s kitchen and service area. An army of waiters, cooks, dishwashers, janitors—everybody in some

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