Murder With Reservations by Elaine Viets

ominously, and she remembered why they’d been retired.
    “Easy there,” Cheryl said. She held an open bottle of ammonia under Helen’s nose. Helen breathed in and choked.
    “I think she’s awake now,” Denise said. “You can put that away.” The head housekeeper draped a cool washcloth on Helen’s forehead.
    Her head pounded. She felt foolish and angry at herself. Helen hadn’t seen her ex-husband in years. She’d spent hours imagining what she would do if she ever ran into Rob. Chain saws, crowbars and knockout punches were at the top of her list. Fainting was not.
    “Are you OK?” Cheryl said.
    “Sure,” she said. “I didn’t eat anything, that’s all.”
    “Nonsense,” Denise said in a voice that sounded like “liar.” When the head housekeeper folded her arms and frowned, she looked like Sister Mary Justine, one of Helen’s high school teachers. Helen felt sixteen again, explaining that she hadn’t gone drag racing with Tommy McIntyre on her lunch hour.
    “You saw that man in the lobby and passed out,” De-nise said. “What did he do to you?”
    “Uh,” Helen stalled. For years she’d kept quiet about Rob. It was her protection. Now silence couldn’t save her, but talking might. Helen decided to trust the two women with some information. She had no choice.
    “He’s my ex-husband,” she said. “Rob flew here from St. Louis, where I used to live. He’s looking for me. He wants my money.”
    “Don’t they all?” Denise said.
    Helen noticed for the first time that the head housekeeper wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
    “It’s always money with men,” Cheryl said. “Either they want yours or they won’t give you theirs.”
    Helen studied their faces. No one looked away. They believed her. Of course, she was telling the truth, which made convincing them easier.
    “I’ve been hiding from him,” Helen said. “I need to know something: Did he check into this hotel by accident or does he know I work here?”
    “I can find out,” Denise said. “Let me ask Sondra. She’s working the front desk this afternoon. I’ll be back in five minutes. Don’t try to get up. You’ve had a nasty shock.”
    Cheryl slid a stack of sheets under Helen’s head for a pillow. “Close your eyes and relax until Denise returns,” she said.
    But Helen couldn’t. Denise was gone too long. The time stretched into ten and then fifteen minutes. Where was she? What was wrong? Helen saw Rob pounding on the front desk, demanding to see her, searching the staff rooms, calling for Sybil, the owner.
    Twenty minutes later, Denise arrived with a can of 7UP and a pack of graham crackers. “Here,” she said. “Drink this and eat a cracker to settle your stomach.”
    Helen pressed the cold soda against her temple. It helped her headache. Then she popped the top and drank. The sugar rush revived her. The graham cracker helped, too. Its homey taste was comforting.
    “What happened?” Helen said. “You were gone so long, I was worried.”
    “Your ex was hanging around the lobby, picking up a free USA Today and getting a Coke out of the machine,” Denise said. “If he’d stayed any longer, I swear I would have him arrested for loitering. Finally he went to get his luggage out of his rental car and I had a chance to talk to Sondra. She says he paid by credit card and didn’t ask about you by name.
    “He didn’t say he was looking for anyone, either,” Denise said. “He didn’t seem curious about our staff at all.” Like Sister Mary Justine, she seemed to see through Helen. “Sondra said he acted like a normal guest. No odd questions or unusual requests. He also hit on her.”
    “That’s Rob,” Helen said. “I’m sure Sondra had too much sense to say yes.”
    “Sondra isn’t going to throw herself away on some old white guy,” Denise said, then looked embarrassed. “I mean—”
    “I know what you mean,” Helen said. But they knew she’d thrown herself away on him.
    “When I left he was