Ms America and the Mayhem in Miami (Beauty Queen Mysteries No. 3) by Dempsey Diana

Author:Dempsey, Diana [Dempsey, Diana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bramerton Press
Published: 2013-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It’s late enough that this beauty queen has to speed to the Hotel Roca to make it there on time for Hector’s noontime extramarital romp. I have no problem keeping my pedal on the metal. The Durango might as well race as fast as my mind, which has rocketed to the conclusion that Jasmine has nary a soul to confirm her lame alibi for Peppi’s murder.

How easy would it have been for her to lock up the boutique, sprint across Miami to strangle Peppi at the pageant venue, and then return? No one would be the wiser.

And now I know Jasmine Dobbs feels no compulsion to toe the legal line. As far as she’s concerned, she’s justified stealing her husband’s belongings, forging his signature, and defrauding his fans. Granted, that trifecta is composed of fairly trifling crimes compared to murder, but still. She’s proved herself a flouter of the law and to me that’s an important revelation about her character.

But now as I approach the Hotel Roca, I must focus not on Jasmine but on Hector. I want to see whether he valets his car, and if so, charm the valet guys into answering my queries about whether he was likewise on the premises Friday.

It also occurs to me that I might accost Hector’s mistress and see what I can get out of her. My plan is to stake out the room in which the tryst occurs and then lie in wait for the female half of the pair to emerge. I’m not always the most patient of individuals but I guess today I’ll have to be.

Happily, the Hotel Roca is a five-star establishment if ever I’ve seen one. It’ll be a joy to pass a few hours there. The lobby is elegantly furnished and dimly lit, with lots of cozy sitting nooks separated by shoji screens, which give it a vaguely Japanese air.

I find myself a position behind a screen but with a view of the valet-parking area. Sure enough, a few minutes after noon a sleek red car screeches to a halt in front of the hotel. Who emerges but Hector. As usual he looks fresh from the spa. He hands the keys to one of the valet guys—whose face I memorize—then strides into the lobby as I duck deeper into my sequestered corner. He conducts a speedy transaction at reception before disappearing into an empty elevator. I scurry close to the elevator bank to see that the car deposits him on the ninth floor before it returns to the lobby level.

Once again I conceal myself behind a screen. I’ll wait a few minutes before I follow Hector upstairs. I don’t want to risk him seeing me in the ninth-floor corridor. That would be a trifle hard to explain.

There’s enough traffic in the lobby to keep me entertained. Most new arrivals make for the chic restaurant but some clearly are guests returning to their rooms. I pay special attention to the attractive females, of whom there are a goodly number.

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