Chapter 6 Jo #2
But when she pulled up in front of the hotel and saw the crowd of conference attendees milling about on the front lawn, she knew something more than just a medical emergency had happened. This was not an organized gathering but a chaotic one, and she saw frowns and shaking heads.
As she stepped out of her cruiser, she heard Lloyd Slocum call out to her.
“At last! Someone to help control the situation,” he said.
“What situation?”
“You haven’t heard? They think one of the speakers has Ebola. The entire second floor’s been cordoned off, and they sent us outside until the health department can evaluate the situation.” Lloyd shook his head. “It’s a disaster.”
“How the hell would Ebola get here?”
“The speaker was recently working in Uganda. Maggie found him unconscious in his hotel room this morning. They’ve put her in quarantine.”
Jo thought of the ambulance she’d just seen leaving the hotel. Now she understood why Declan had been in pursuit. He was following Maggie to the hospital.
“Is she going to be all right?” Jo asked.
“We certainly hope so.”
“But isn’t there a cure? Can’t they give her something to keep her from getting sick?”
Lloyd shook his head. “From what I gather, it’s a matter of watching and waiting. And we don’t know who else was exposed. Ingrid’s with the manager now, trying to find new accommodations for all the speakers.”
“Where is the manager? I need to talk to him about another matter.”
“In his office, negotiating with Ingrid. Poor fellow doesn’t know what he’s up against.”
Jo certainly wouldn’t want to tangle with the unstoppable Ingrid Slocum.
Jo had first butted heads with the woman last winter, after a murder victim was dumped in Maggie Bird’s driveway.
Ingrid and her circle of friends, who called themselves the Martini Club, had repeatedly inserted themselves into that investigation, turning up at crime scenes, piecing together evidence before the police did.
The group had always been a few steps ahead of Jo, something she didn’t expect from five retirees.
Until she learned which careers they’d retired from.
She climbed the porch steps and entered the lobby, which was eerily empty.
No one was at the reception desk, and the ringing phone went unanswered.
But she could hear voices—Ingrid’s and a man’s—coming from a room behind the desk.
She walked into the back office, where Ingrid, handsomely dressed in a black pantsuit and an elegantly knotted silk scarf, was facing off with a man in a blue blazer.
“It’s not easy to move all the guest speakers to different floors,” the man said. “You’re talking about a dozen guests, some of them with spouses, and we have a limited number of available rooms.”
“What about your seaside cottages? Couldn’t you move them out there?”
“Those cottages have been booked for months. It’s leaf-peeping season, and this is one of the busiest weeks of the year. Where am I supposed to find a dozen extra rooms?”
“Well, no one wants to stay on the second floor,” said Ingrid.
“Look, I have a conference room filled with scared employees to deal with right now. So if we could discuss this later—”
“Excuse me,” said Jo. “Could I have a word?”
The man turned to Jo with a look of abject relief. At last, someone to rescue him from Ingrid, the silver-haired Valkyrie. The name tag on his blazer said Mr. Fishman, Manager, and with his slightly pursed lips, he looked like a fish. A nervous, sweating fish.
“I’m Chief Thibodeau,” said Jo. “I’m following up on your missing employee, Karen O’Brien.”
“Oh, yes. Karen never did show up for work.”
“She’s not at the residence either. Any idea where else she might be?”
He shook his head. “We know she finished her shift last night in the restaurant and clocked out around ten thirty p.m.”
“Her housemate says Karen drives a brown vehicle, but he didn’t know the make or model. Do you have that information?”
“We should. We keep the employees’ vehicle plates on file, so we know who’s authorized to park on the property.” He sat down at his computer and tapped on the keyboard. “Here’s her file. Karen O’Brien. She drives a brown Toyota, Maine license plate.”
Jo jotted down the plate number she saw on the computer screen. “And where do your employees park?”
“They have their own area, back of the building. Right next to the golf course. I guess we should have checked there first, but it’s been crazy here this morning.”
“I may need your CCTV footage. To confirm she made it to her car last night.”
“Oh. We may not have that.”
“Why not?”
“Part of our system went down yesterday evening. I’m waiting for someone to come in and take a look at it.”
“Wait,” interrupted Ingrid, who’d been following the conversation. “When did your security system go down?”
“I noticed it around six p.m. Half the cameras were dark.”
“Which cameras?”
“Second-floor hallway. And the parking lot.”
Jo said, “Can we get back to Karen O’Brien? Does the employee parking lot have a security camera?”
“Oh, that’s way out on the perimeter. We don’t have any coverage there.” Fishman looked at his watch. “Look, I have a hotel to manage, a guest room that could be infected with Ebola, and employees who are freaking out.”
“Or missing,” said Ingrid, frowning. She turned to Jo. “Let’s take a look at the parking lot. See if we can find this woman’s car.”
We had not been part of Jo’s plan, but her past tangles with Ingrid Slocum had taught her that when the woman made up her mind to do something, there was no dissuading her. Ingrid stayed right beside Jo as they walked out the rear entrance of the building and headed toward the employee lot.
“Don’t you have other things you need to do?” asked Jo. “Like, maybe, stop an outbreak of Ebola?”
“Ebola hasn’t been confirmed.”
“What else could have made him sick?”
“Dr. Maslov was working in Uganda, so it could be any number of exotic viruses.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring.”
“Or it could just be a simple case of food poisoning.”