Carol Stinson walked wearily back to her hotel room. She had left George in the lounge, embarrassed by his behavior. Better that she retreated to the room, so that she wasn’t humiliated any further. She knew what the others were thinking - poor Carol, why did she marry such a drunk? Upon entering the room, she threw her key on the desk, catching her reflection in the mirror. She studied her features: mousy brown hair, sallow complexion, rounded shoulders. The sight confirmed her deepest fears: she was ugly and didn’t deserve any better than George. At least he provided a good income. Their kids could attend the best private schools. So what if he cheated on her - could she really fault him for wanting someone more desirable? Sighing, Carol kicked off her black pumps and took off her dress. She grabbed for a thick terrycloth robe hanging on the door and wrapped herself in its warmth. Her mind wandered back to earlier that evening - the sight of Jonathan and Jennifer dancing. Jonathan was so handsome. And Jennifer...Carol rolled her eyes and an angry tear raced down her cheek. Why did some women seem to have it all? It wasn’t fair. And Jennifer’s behavior at breakfast earlier that morning. Carol swore that she was flirting with George - the way she was sitting, that beguiling smile - how dare Jennifer be so rude in front of her? George all but fell over her, she remembered, cringing at the thought.
The music played on, as a handful of couples remained on the dance floor. Jonathan put his arm around Jennifer’s waist and whispered into her ear, "Let’s go take a walk."
Jennifer felt a little light-headed from the champagne and giggled, "All right. But, you better have me back before my poach turns into a cumpkin...I mean my coach turns into a pumpkin." Jonathan grinned at her. "You know, I love it when you’re tipsy...and you can be sure that I’m going to take advantage of you in this condition." Jennifer’s eyes twinkled and she leaned forward to rub noses with him. "Promises, promises!" she crooned.
As they walked down the hallway leading to the library, Jennifer noticed several framed photographs on the wall. She looked closely at one photo in particular - one of a group of dignitaries gathered in front of the Wallingford.
"Jonathan...look at this picture. It was taken in 1944...It says ‘The International Monetary Committee’" Jennifer said, her eyes scanning the many faces in the photograph.
"Oh, yes, I had forgotten about that. Yes, the International Monetary Committee met here that year. They set the standard for gold prices...very important to the financial infrastructure of the world’s economy," Jonathan said.
"Jonathan, don’t you realize that that’s the same year that Gloria Cromwell was murdered?" Jennifer said, wide-eyed.
Jonathan looked at her. "...And?"
"Well, if Gloria was murdered, there were a lot of people staying here that could have been suspects...Maybe she was involved in some lover’s triangle with one of these people," Jennifer said, touching the mahogany frame.
"Darling," Jonathan said, taking her into his arms to steady her, "that’s a lot of speculation for something that happened 54 years ago."
"Well," Jennifer sighed, "someone’s got to speculate. Aren’t you curious about what happened to her? And who she was in love with?...Hmmm, I wonder if there’s anyone still working here that was here in 1944."
"Now, wait a minute. We don’t know if the items we found under the bedframe belonged to her."
"They must have! I just have a very strong feeling about this," Jennifer said, her voice trailing off as she looked out into the distance.
Jonathan pressed himself against her. "And I have a strong feeling too...about something else," he whispered into her ear.
"Ooo," she giggled.
"Tell you what," Jonathan bargained, "let’s ask Katherine Belleveau about Gloria Cromwell. She might have some information. We also need to give her the items we found."
"OK," Jennifer agreed reluctantly.
"And if we do that...will you give me something in return?" he said, backing her into a corner.
She smiled. "It’s a deal."
Katherine shut the door to her office and sat down at her desk, satisfied. The Talbot wedding reception had gone beautifully. Jonathan Hart had to have been impressed. Smiling, she dialed the phone.
"Cal, have the jeep ready for Monday afternoon. I’ll need your assistance. Are you up for some hiking?...Very good...I’ll see you Monday at around noon." Katherine hung up.
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door. It must be Percy, Katherine thought. He was always on time with her evening tea. She swung the door open gingerly, surprised to find the Harts standing there.
Jonathan smiled. "I hope we’re not bothering you. We saw the light on and thought you might be in." Katherine smiled back, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach.
She was annoyed to see Jennifer at his side.
"Of course!" Katherine gushed. "Come in. You’re not bothering me at all...You must be Mrs. Hart," she said, shaking Jennifer’s hand vigorously.
"Please, call me Jennifer."
"Have a seat. Would you like some tea with me?" she asked, smiling demurely at Jonathan.
"Oh, no, thank you. We actually just came by to give you those items we found. You remember, the letter-opener and the ring?" Jonathan said, taking the pouch from his jacket pocket.
"Oh, yes," Katherine said, opening the pouch. "How odd...and they were under your bed?"
Jennifer blushed. "I think they were hidden in the bed frame. They looked quite old."
"Well, we’ve never had any reports of missing items. I’d love to display them in the lobby, if you don’t mind. We have a small display case with memorabilia from the 1930’s and 40’s....you know, postcards, fountain pens, even the guestbook with signatures of some of our famous patrons from that era," Katherine said, examining the items.
"That would be fine," Jonathan said, looking at his wife for approval. Jennifer nodded her head begrudgingly.
"You know," Jennifer said sheepishly, "I had a silly thought about these items. I wondered if maybe they belonged to Gloria Cromwell. The ring has the letters GC engraved in it."
Jonathan furrowed his brow, offering an explanation. "Jennifer has a very active imagination. She thinks there’s a connection between the items and Gloria Cromwell’s murder." Jennifer folded her arms across her chest. "Well, you never know!" she said, giving Jonathan a playful nudge with her elbow. Jonathan grinned at his wife and gave her arm a tender squeeze. Katherine turned and walked to her desk, rolling her eyes.
"Hmmm," Katherine said, laughing politely, "I think that may be a stretch, but you never know. Gloria Cromwell did stay at the Wallingford a long time ago...I’ll have one of our local antique dealers look at them to see how old they are...Cole Jackson, in fact. I believe he was at the wedding reception. Did you meet him?"
Jennifer remembered quite well. "Yes, he and his wife Sandy were sitting at our table."
"He owns an antique shop in town. I’ll have him take a look at them," Katherine said, placing the pouch in her desk.
As the Harts turned to leave, Jennifer asked, "I was wondering...do you have any employees that have been working here since the 1940’s?"
"Why, yes, a handful actually. This is not a big town. Our local staff stays with us for a long time. Some are even second generation employees!" Katherine said.
"Joe Fernald has been here the longest. He was hired in 1938 as a bell boy. He’s now in charge of housekeeping and quite agile for a man of 87 years! Ask for him at the front desk anytime, if you’d like to meet him," she said ushering them to the door.
Jennifer was beginning to feel drowsy. She laced her arm through Jonathan’s. "Thank you. We will."
Katherine nodded and smiled at Jonathan. "Please let me give you a tour of the Wallingford during your stay. Anything to help you make your decision," she said, pointedly.
Jennifer piped up. "Oh, yes, we’d love a tour!"
"You were awfully eager to get a tour of this place," Jonathan said, opening the door to their suite.
"Oh, Jonathan, don’t you see?" she said, stretching out on the bed. "We can get a good look at the layout of the hotel, maybe even get to talk to some of the people who work here that might remember Gloria Cromwell!" Jennifer felt the room begin to spin.
She groaned and clutched her head. Jonathan kicked off his shoes and laid down next to her.
"What decision was Katherine talking about?" Jennifer said sleepily, unable to keep her eyes open any longer.
Jonathan leaned down to kiss her. "About investing in the Wallingford, remember? I’m not sure yet. What do you think?" Jonathan continued to kiss her lips and then brushed her hair back to nibble on her earlobe.
"Oh, I don’t know. There’s something about Katherine that bothers me, but I can’t put my finger on it," Jennifer mumbled.
"Let me help you out of your gown, sleepyhead," he said, hoping that would awaken her. She sat up, her eyelids still drooping. "Oh, Jonathan, I’m so tired. I don’t know what’s come over me."
Jonathan unzipped the back of her gown and traced his finger down the length of her spine. Jennifer sat up straight and gave a throaty giggle. He turned to look at her still sleepy face. "I have a feeling that you’re not going to come through on your end of our bargain," he said, slipping her nightgown over her head.
Jonathan smiled lovingly at his wife, as he tucked her into bed. Within moments, she was sound asleep. "I love you," he whispered into her ear.
George Stinson fumbled at the door to his suite at midnight. He couldn’t remember where he had left his key. He banged at the door. "Carol, open up!"
Carol ran to the door, afraid that George would wake up the floor. He staggered into the room and sank into a chair.
"Well, aren’t you a party pooper?" he grumbled at his wife. Carol looked away and climbed back into bed.
George continued. "Yeah, everyone else’s wife stayed and partied...but not Carol, oh, no. She’s got better things to do!"
"Quiet, George!" Carol scolded, "You’ll wake everyone up."
"Wake everyone up?!! Everyone IS up, Carol! You’re the only loser that’s in bed right now...well," he chuckled meanly, "I suppose some guys ARE in bed with their wives having a good time...but not sleeping!" George laughed heartily. "Why, I bet the Harts have even broken their bed again," he said, laughing even louder. "Did you hear about that, Carol? Gary overheard the bell boy today. Jonathan and Jennifer BROKE THEIR BED screwin’ around! Man, now that’s a good one! Of course, if I was married to Jennifer, I’d..."
Carol bolted out of bed and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. She could not listen to another word. She turned the faucets on. The running water blocked out George’s litany of abuse, and the cold water felt good against her hot cheeks. After almost an hour, Carol opened the door to find George slumped over the chair sound asleep. She hastily put on her clothes and ran down the front steps of the hotel.
The cold autumn air stung Carol’s lungs, as she climbed into her car. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she needed to get away from the Wallingford...from the Harts...from George. Just long enough to clear my head, she thought. She couldn’t wait for the defroster in her rented Explorer to begin working, before she peeled out of the parking lot and onto the winding Kancamagus Highway.
