“Um…” I had no idea how to answer, much less how Charlie would want me to answer that question. “Whatever he wants.”
“I already asked him before he started questioning everyone. He said it’s totally up to you.” Savilla smiled. “He’s a true gentleman.”
I swallowed hard, aware of the fact that she’d been talking to him about me. Like we were in middle school. “Sure, yes, then. We likely won’t get much sleep anyway.”
Savilla raised her eyebrows as if I hadn’t meant that we’d be awake to discuss a murder investigation, not to engage in other delights. “I’ll put two toothbrushes along with other toiletries in the bathroom. I’m doing the same for the guest rooms and the cottages out on the green.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Charlie told me which people I should keep in the main house, and I’m pretty sure it’s because they’re the most suspicious. Except for you and me, of course.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell Savilla that to Charlie, everyone was a suspect.
I took the key and turned to leave, then pivoted back to face Savilla. “Actually, I was hoping to ask you one more thing,” I said. “About Joe and Brett. You’ve kept in touch with both of them over the years, right?”
“Mostly.” Savilla traced the edge of one of the room keys with a finger. “I don’t think it’s any secret that Joe was super hurt when Brett got him kicked out of college.”
I leaned closer. I’d suspected this but had never actually heard this part of the story.
Another guest, Miss Most Likely to Drop Out (she didn’t), approached and took a key from Savilla, and I waited until she was out of earshot before continuing our conversation.
“What did Brett do to Joe?”
Savilla took a step closer to me and spoke in low tones. “At Virginia Tech, Joe made the football team but Brett was red-shirted. Halfway into the season, one of the coaches found something in Joe’s locker—something that wasn’t his—and they kicked him out.”
“What did they find?”
“Steroids.” Savilla tisked. “A big no-no.”
I could believe Joe would be dumb enough to use an illicit substance—but maybe weed, not steroids. He had been a natural athlete from the time we were in fifth grade, already tall and broad for his age. He’d always been fast too, a typical dumb jock, a stereotype that he seemed to embrace.
Something about the expression on Savilla’s face told me that she didn’t believe he’d been doping either.
“You think Brett planted the steroids in his locker?” I asked, though it was less a question and more a realization.
I thought of Brett’s short stature, the way he’d bulked up almost immediately after graduating high school, the way he’d been trying extreme health regimens. Could he have been using steroids and planted them in Joe’s locker? If so, what was the purpose? To get Joe kicked off the team? Out of school? Such a tragedy would’ve changed the entire trajectory of Joe’s life. It would’ve kept him stuck in a town where he’d watched his parents—especially his dad, I now knew—struggle.
Wrecking his life would’ve been reason enough for Joe to crave revenge.
I’d found possible motive.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Savilla said, nodding toward a man entering the vestibule from the direction of the ballroom, his sneakered feet not making a sound as he strode into the entryway. It was Joe, and right behind him was Presley Lombardi.
“I came to get my key,” Joe said, putting his hand on the small of Presley’s back before catching my eye and yanking it away.
Savilla first handed Presley a plastic card with a room number written on the paper holder. The plastic card meant she was not in the residential wing, which likely meant Savilla didn’t trust her and Joe to be that close by. Made sense.
Presley, her eyes wide as if she were forcing herself to prop them open, nodded her thanks then turned and loped toward the elevator.
Next was Joe, and Savilla was placing him far from the residential wing as well.
“Can I have a key to Presley’s room too?” Joe asked, his eyes flitting to me as he tapped a hand restlessly against the marble desktop where Savilla’s computer faced her. “I want to check on her.”
Savilla shook her head and kept an even tone. “That’s not our policy.”
I could feel my eyebrows rising even though I told my face not to give anything away.
“Fine, I’ll take a second key to my room. Just in case I lose it.”
Savilla didn’t bat an eye as she handed him another key, and I admired her seeming neutrality. She would make a discreet hotelier if she decided to turn the Rose Palace into such a thing. “And Joe, Dakota had some questions for you.”
Savilla blinked innocently between the two of us, and I realized that she thought she was being helpful: I had suspicions, and I could ask him directly about my concerns. In her mind, this must be the most direct route to get answers, but from my perspective, I’d rather watch from the sidelines and make my own conclusions. Murderers weren’t usually forthcoming, after all.
