I hear the words. They register in my head, but I don’t quite believe them. Words without action can be deceiving.
Mr. Preston gives my knee a little pat. “There, there. All’s well that ends well.” It’s exactly what Gran would have said, were she still alive.
“Molly,” Detective Stark says, “I’m here because we’re going to need your help. We received a call from Mr. Snow this afternoon urging us to come to the hotel immediately. He was tipping us off to new developments.”
Juan Manuel emerges from the kitchen, his face pale and drawn. He’s carrying Gran’s tea tray, which he sets on the table. He backs away then, several trolley-lengths from the detective.
Detective Stark doesn’t notice. She eyes the tray and chooses Gran’s cup, which bothers me no end, but never mind.
“Juan Manuel,” I say as I stand up. “Please take my seat.” I wish I had another chair to offer him, but alas, I do not.
“No, no,” he says. “Please, you sit, Molly. I stand.”
“Good idea,” Detective Stark says. “Less chance of her fainting again.”
I sit back down.
The detective adds some sugar to her tea, stirs, then continues. “When we entered the former Black suite today, the bartender of the Social Bar & Grill, Rodney Stiles, and two of his associates, were inside.”
“Two imposing gentlemen with an interesting array of facial tattoos?” I ask.
“Yes, you know them?”
“I thought they were guests of the hotel,” I say. “I was told they were Juan Manuel’s friends.” As soon as I say it, I regret it.
It’s as though Mr. Preston can read my mind, for he immediately says, “Don’t worry, Molly. The detective knows all about Rodney and the blackmailing against Juan Manuel. And the…violent acts against him too.”
Juan Manuel is standing motionless just outside of the kitchen. I know what this feels like—to be discussed as if you’re not even there.
“Molly, can you tell the detective why you cleaned rooms for Rodney whenever he asked? Just tell the detective the truth,” Charlotte says.
I look to Juan Manuel. I won’t say another word without his consent. “It’s okay,” he says. “You can tell them.”
I then proceed to explain everything, how Rodney lied, that he told me Juan Manuel was his friend and that he was homeless, how he had me clean rooms without me realizing what it was I was wiping away, how he deceived me—and how he used Juan Manuel.
“I didn’t know what was actually going on in those rooms every night. I didn’t realize Juan Manuel was being violently assaulted. I thought I was helping a friend.”
“Why did you believe him, though?” Detective Stark asks. “Why did you believe Rodney when it was pretty obvious that drugs were involved?”
“What’s obvious for you, Detective, isn’t always obvious for everyone else. As my gran used to say, ‘We’re all the same in different ways.’ The truth is, I trusted Rodney. I trusted a bad egg.”
Juan Manuel remains statue-still outside of the kitchen.
“Rodney used me and Juan Manuel to make himself invisible,” I say. “I see that now.”
“You’re right,” Detective Stark replies. “We’ve caught him, though. We found large quantities of benzodiazepine and cocaine in that suite. It was literally right in his hands.”
I think of Giselle’s “benz friends” in an unmarked bottle, most likely supplied by Rodney.
“We’ve charged him with several drug-related offenses, possession of an illegal firearm, and threatening an officer.”
“Threatening an officer?” I say.
“He pulled a handgun when the door of the suite opened. Same make and model as the one we found in your vacuum, Molly.”
It’s hard to imagine—Rodney in his white shirt with the sleeves rolled, pulling a gun rather than a pint of beer at the bar.
It’s Juan Manuel who notices what I do not. All eyes turn to him as he speaks. “You mentioned many charges. But you never mentioned murder.”
Detective Stark nods. “We have also charged Rodney with the first-degree murder of Mr. Black. But to be perfectly honest, we’re going to need your help to make that charge stick. There are still a few things we can’t figure out.”
“Such as?” Charlotte prompts.
“When we first went into the Black suite the day you found him dead, Molly, there were no traces of Rodney’s fingerprints anywhere in that whole suite. In fact, there were hardly any prints anywhere. And traces of your cleaning solution were found on Mr. Black’s neck.”