CHAPTER NINE
May sat in the passenger seat of Owen’s car as Owen turned off the main road and approached the marble-fronted facade of the Mount Amethyst five-star hotel and golf resort. The hotel was in an exquisitely beautiful, mountainous area that was about twenty miles out of Tamarack County.
“Bert Reed sure does stay in style,” May said, as they drove down the paved driveway, lined with stone pillars twined with vines. “He owns this place?”
“Yes. From the research I’ve done, he’s very wealthy. As in, extremely,” Owen explained. “He owns about five different luxury hotels here in Minnesota, and a few others in New York State. Then he also has interests in a few other businesses, which from the description I think are probably strip clubs. So far, those are only in New York State.”
“Interesting,” May said, filing this away.
The resort itself was a fabulous building of white stone, with ornate columns. The whole complex was surrounded by verdant gardens and manicured lawns, and a golf course stretched beyond the perimeter of the building.
They parked in the main lot and got out. The car lot was filled with expensive vehicles: BMWs, Mercedes, Audis, and a Porsche. Valets in black and white uniforms were polishing the cars. Owen and May parked and walked up the stairway into the hotel lobby. It was a large, beautiful room, with a glass ceiling that let in the sunlight from above.
They headed to the reception desk—a massive marble console on the far side of this exquisite space.
“Good morning. Welcome to the Mount Amethyst Hotel and Golf Resort,” the dark-haired receptionist said, smiling.
“Good morning.” May showed her badge. “We understand Mr. Bert Reed is residing at your hotel. We’d like to speak to him.”
Now the receptionist’s warm smile disappeared and she looked taken aback.
“Mr. Reed? Is he expecting you? He’s got back-to-back meetings here all day.”
“No. It’s in connection with a murder investigation. He’ll know about the murder, as it involves his new hotel. But he’s not aware we’re here now.”
“Oh! Let me call him.”
The receptionist quickly dialed. She spoke in a low voice, paused, listened, and then turned to May and Owen.
“He’ll see you,” she said. She gestured to an elevator on the right-hand side of the reception console. “That goes straight up to the penthouse suite.”
May saw, to her surprise, that a black-uniformed security guard was standing outside the elevator. He checked them out with a suspicious glare as they approached.
“Police,” May said, showing her badge again, and the man glanced over at the receptionist. Only when she nodded did he step reluctantly aside.
When they were in the elevator and riding up, Owen murmured, “It seems like that’s his personal guard? Not the hotel’s guard?”
“Yes, I got that impression too,” May whispered back as the elevator whooshed upward.
When it stopped, the doors opened and a second black-uniformed security guard strode over to meet them. This, May assumed, was more of Bert Reed’s personal security. He needed a lot of security!
What was so threatening to him? she wondered, as the guard led them down a short, wide corridor. When they reached the end, he knocked on a high, white-painted door.
“Come in,” a male voice said.
The guard opened the door and May and Owen stepped into the reception room of the penthouse suite.
The walls were white. The floors were white marble. In the corner of the room was a leather lounge suite and coffee table, and in the center of the room was a circular white conference table. Chairs were arranged around it.
There were three people in the room.
Bert Reed, the hotel tycoon, was sitting at the head of the table. A strong-jawed man in his forties, he occupied the chair with the best view out of the windows onto the gardens and the golf course beyond. May’s gaze was instantly drawn to his perfectly coiffed dark hair, which looked as sleek as if it had been oiled. He was casually dressed in a golf shirt and chinos.
Across from him was a strikingly beautiful woman in her thirties. She was wearing a black business suit with a crisp white shirt.
The third person was yet another security guard, standing to attention against the back wall.
The woman jumped up as they walked in.
“Good afternoon, Officers. Please have a seat. Mr. Reed, of Reed Leisure, welcomes you.”
“Deputy May Moore,” May said politely.
“Deputy Owen Lovell,” Owen introduced himself.