What's Done In the Dark(26)

I didn’t want his condolences. I wanted answers. “Thank you”—I shook as I spoke—“but I’m trying to figure out what happened. When did my husband book the hotel room? Was he here with someone? Did you all find anything out of the ordinary in his room?”

The guy looked at me sadly. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you that information.”

“He’s dead!” I snapped. “What do you think he’s going to do? Come back and sue?”

“Ma’am, calm down please.”

I slammed my hand on the counter. “I will not calm down! I need some answers!”

He looked around. Several people had started staring, but I didn’t care. “Hold on,” he said. He began tapping on one of the computers behind the counter. “Your husband didn’t get the room until late Friday night, and it looks like there was nothing out of the ordinary. Housekeeping said that he was just in the bed, like he’d died in his sleep.”

“Was he alone?”

“Like I said, I wasn’t here, but the room is just in his name.” He checked the screen again, then turned to the girl at the end of the counter, who was trying to act like she wasn’t listening to our conversation. “Lori,” he said, then waited for her to approach. “You checked in Mr. Wright, didn’t you, the other night? The guy they found dead?”

Her hand moved to her heart. “Yes. That is so sad.”

Her sympathy looked genuine, so I asked her, “Was he alone?”

Her eyebrows rose in shock, and she looked over at the manager like she didn’t know what to do.

“It’s okay,” he said. “This is his wife, and as you can imagine, she’s obviously upset. But I told her, we show that he checked into the room by himself, right?”

Lori still looked apprehensive, but she nodded her head. “Yes, he was by himself,” she replied. “He looked a little tipsy and said he was going to get a room to sleep it off.”

I don’t know why that didn’t give me the relief I’d thought it would.

“He had been at the bar drinking,” Lori added, trying to help.

“Maybe he got some kind of alcohol poisoning at the bar,” I said. I knew I was grasping at straws, but I needed something to make sense.

The manager tensed up, and all compassion left his face.

“I’m sorry, that’s all the information we can give you. I could lose my job giving you that much.”

“Thank you,” I said as I spun around and headed toward the bar.

I found a lot of people in the bar area: laughing, flirting couples oblivious to my pain. I immediately marched to the bar.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” I called out, waving to get the bartender’s attention.

The male bartender was in the middle of taking an order, and he said, “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

“No!” I said, slamming my palm on the bar counter. “This can’t wait. I need to know something.” I fumbled in my purse and pulled out a picture of my husband. “This man, he was here the other night. Do you recognize him? Were you working?”

He sighed, then excused himself from the customer in front of him and walked over to me. He glanced down at the photo.

“Yeah, I served him. Why?”

“You gave him a lot to drink, and then he died in this hotel. What did you do to him?”

“Whoa, slow down, lady,” the bartender said, holding up his hands in defense. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t do anything but serve drinks.”

“Was he drunk? Did you keep serving him? Did you give him alcohol poisoning?” The words were rushing from my mouth. I’m sure I looked like a madwoman, but I felt like desperation was swallowing me whole.

“Whoa,” he said. “You need to chill out, lady!”

I couldn’t help it. I started losing it, yelling at the bartender, accusing him of killing my husband, until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Paula?” I turned around to see Felise’s old college roommate Sabrina. We’d all hung out when I came back to Texas over the holidays freshman year. I’d seen her a few times over the years. The last time, I was at this hotel for a cheer camp for Tahiry. I’d forgotten that she worked as a bartender here.

“Sabrina!” I said.

“What is going on? What’s wrong?” she asked.

I couldn’t help it. I started crying as I buried my head in my hands.

“Shhh, it’s okay, calm down.” She looked at all the people staring at me, including the bartender, who looked pretty mad. “Hey, Zen, I got it,” she told him. “I’m sorry, she’s upset. Just go on, I’ll handle it.”