The Abandoned Hotel

By Darryl Matter

Who killed the young couple in their sleep at the Fairfield Brother's Hotel 30 years ago? Detective Nikki Hamilton is determined to investigate such unsolved cases in her retirement. As she and her friend, Greg Browning, work to solve this cold case, they discover other mysteries in the seemingly abandoned hotel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darryl Matter
• Release date: Feb 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463031353

Darryl Matter

Hello,I'm an ancient, long-retired college professor who likes to write stories. My educational background is somewhat varied. I first earned a B.S. Degree in Mechanical Engineering with a Management Option. The industrial management and psychology classes interested me in human behavior, and I eventually earned a Ph.D. in Human Development. In addition to writing stories, my interests include reading and stamp collecting.I grew up in a rural Kansas community, and I now live with my wife in a retirement community. I appreciate each of my readers, and I thank you for reading my stories. Furthermore, I encourage each of you to write something of interest to you and then publish it--to share with the world.Being the antique person that I am, the tech-side of publishing doesn't come easily to me and I appreciate the support staff at Smashwords.Again thank you for your interest in my stories.Sincerely,Darryl Matter

Book preview

The Abandoned Hotel

A Nikki Hamilton Mystery

By Darryl Matter

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2020 by Darryl Matter

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

The Abandoned Hotel

A Nikki Hamilton Mystery

This is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

* * * * *

Prologue

30 years ago:

It was just before eight o'clock in the evening when the young couple pulled into the parking lot of the Fairfield Brother's Hotel. Theirs was only the third vehicle to occupy the guest parking area so far that night. Perhaps others would arrive later, but that wasn't too likely. In fact, the small, three-story hotel, established in 1885, as noted by a faded sign over the main entrance, appeared to be badly weather-beaten and ill-maintained--unlikely to attract many modern-day customers. Few guests would be staying at the hotel that night--or ever again. Not with the many modern motels and hotels now available in the area.

Moments later, the young man retrieved a small overnight bag and a briefcase from the trunk of their car. The young woman took the briefcase and, together, hand-in-hand, the young couple walked up the well-worn steps to the hotel's entrance, and into the sparsely furnished hotel lobby.

We'd like a room for three nights, the young man told the man at the counter.

The desk clerk studied the registration book. Okay.

Moments later, after paying the room charge, the young couple climbed the stairs to the room to which they'd been assigned, room number 312.

* * * * *

The man seated in the car across the street from the hotel entrance watched as the young couple entered the hotel. He'd shadowed them ever since they'd left their apartment earlier that afternoon, shadowed them for almost 100 miles as they arrived in town and then made several stops around the city. Now that he knew where they were staying that night, all he had to do was to determine which room they'd occupy and wait until they were sound asleep.

He drove slowly around the building and watched the lights come on in the far back corner of the hotel. Third floor. Corner room. That light told him exactly which room the young couple would occupy that night. He waited patiently and watched until the lights in room 312 went out about an hour later. Waited until he was sure they were asleep.

Once he was certain that the people were asleep, the man parked in the alley and walked quietly to the back door of the hotel. He was wearing dark clothing and he kept to the shadows, making sure that no one saw him as he did so. Having been relatively certain that the young couple would stay at that particular hotel, he'd cautiously studied the layout of the building on two separate occasions, both late at night when no one else was around. Practiced climbing that back stairs to the second and third floors. Walked up and down the halls, alert to any floor boards that might creak under his step. Checked to see how the hall lights worked.

Once inside the hotel building that night, he climbed the back stairs to the third floor, then cautiously and quietly made his way to room number 312. The pass-key he'd acquired a few days ago in anticipation of his assignment that night worked smoothly in the lock. Before he eased open the door, however, he removed the light bulb from the hall light fixture. Its light would not now awaken the sleeping couple. Moments later, he was inside that room. Silently closed the door. He'd worn gloves to insure that he'd leave no fingerprints.

Very little light came in through the windows, but there was enough for the intruder to see that the young man and woman were sound asleep in bed. Moments later, he had the silenced Colt pistol in his hand.

WHUMP! WHUMP!

There was almost no sound from the pistol as the intruder shot each of the occupants in the head. No one outside of that room could have heard the shots. He smiled at the ease with which he'd completed his assignment.

After making certain that they both were dead, the intruder picked up the briefcase and silently let himself out of the room, locking the door behind him. He then replaced the bulb in the hall light. He'd deliver the briefcase to the man who'd paid him to do the job, and then catch a flight out of town yet that night. Establish himself as having been out of town when the murders took place.

* * * * *

One of the maids discovered the bodies in room number 312 when she came to work at the hotel the following morning. She immediately alerted the hotel manager. He immediately called the police.

It was easy for the police to identify the victims. Documents in the man's wallet and the woman's purse identified them as Ross and Crystal Becker, both 30 years old.

Ross was a high school science teacher in a near-by community. Crystal worked as a nurse in the local hospital.

Robbery was apparently not a motive for the double-murders. Neither the man's wallet, containing about $200 in cash and several credit cards, or the woman's purse, containing $60 in cash and several credit cards, had been taken. Watches and the woman's jewelry were found on the bed-side table. In fact, nothing seemed to have been taken from the room.

Exactly what the couple was doing in town was unknown, although their friends told the police that Ross and Crystal enjoyed traveling and visiting different communities. They both had an interest in local history, and their friends said they were not surprised to learn that they'd selected a 100-year-old hotel as their destination.

They've stayed in older hotels before, one of Crystal's friends confided, and they seemed to enjoy those visits.

They especially were interested in older buildings with sordid histories, one of Ross's friends told the police. When asked what he meant by 'sordid' histories, he replied that the Beckers had stayed at one old hotel that had been a brothel back in the 1920s and another hotel that had housed a disreputable bar during the prohibition era. Still another had been a reputed hangout for gangsters during the 1920s and 1930s. They'd read up on the history of those hotels in the library archives and then go spend a few nights there, just looking around the place to see what remained of those events, he'd said. What sordid history the Fairfield Brother's Hotel possessed that might have interested Ross and Crystal--nobody seemed to know.

Did the young couple have any enemies? Not that their friends could identify. Certainly none that wished them dead. In fact, the Beckers were well respected and liked by their co-workers.

The police appealed to the public for help with the murder investigation--but to no avail. No one came forward with any helpful information. Several months after the murders, having completely exhausted the few leads that they had, the police reluctantly turned their attention to other criminal activity in the area.

Chapter 1

The present:

Detective Nikki Hamilton had almost finished cleaning out her desk. It was a Thursday afternoon, and Friday would be her last day at work. She'd put in 30 years as a cop after graduating from college and a stint in the service as an intelligence officer.

Being a cop had been her life's work. It hadn't been an 8 to 5 job either. Rather, as a detective, she'd often worked around the clock--24 hours a day, seven days a week--or so it seemed. It was time for her to have some fun, she told herself, and at 60 years of age, looking at least 10 years younger, her friends said, and in good health, she could and would have some fun on her terms. Make some new friends. Reconnect with some old ones. Enjoy life.

Still, she knew she'd miss working as a detective. She had enjoyed her work. It was going to be hard to give it up. But then, while she was considering what she might do after she retired, she'd read an article in the local newspaper about how a retired cop in New York City had solved a murder that had been committed 40-some years ago, had solved it and sent the killer, by now a well-placed politician, to prison for the rest of his life. Yes! That story resonated with her. No! Nikki wasn't through being a cop. She'd work on some of the unsolved cases in her own city.

Nikki had expected her boss, Police Chief Ryan Denison, to be pleased with her decision to investigate unsolved cases in her retirement. Not so! He'd scowled when she told him of her plans, and only reluctantly agreed to support her doing so. Finally, however, he did agree to her using resources within the police department as necessary to aid her investigations. As long as she didn't interfere with on-going investigations, he emphasized.

Maybe that reaction shouldn't have surprised her, Nikki reasoned later. She'd brought heat on Chief Denison several times, most recently when she'd arrested the mayor's son for a string of arson fires--including one in which two people died. When the mayor tried a cover-up, with the apparent cooperation of Chief Denison, and the news media found out about it, the bad publicity had cost the mayor his re-election bid.

In fact, it was early in her career when Nikki had discovered that Chief Denison was not quite the squeaky-clean cop he wanted people to think he was. After determining that he played favorites with his staff, promoting those he liked and making life hard for those he didn't, she'd gathered some information on her boss that he'd be very unhappy to have brought to light. In fact, he'd probably have lost his job had Nikki shared what she knew with Internal Affairs and the Police Commissioner. Instead, she'd secreted that information away in a safe-deposit box at one of the local banks. Hinted to Denison about what she knew. Considered it as an insurance policy.

Later on, she'd caught Denison in the evidence room, about to destroy some evidence on a case she was working on that involved a friend of his--a woman who ran a call-girl ring. Nikki had let him know that she had copies of the evidence stashed away where he'd never find them. From then on, Denison was quite cool to her, most likely very happy with the understanding that she was going to retire.

No, Nikki told herself, she should not have expected the Chief to be pleased when she told him of her plans to look into some of the unsolved mysteries within the community.

Still, despite the problems with Chief Denison, she'd had a good record as a detective, and had a number of commendations to prove it. Now she could and would turn her attention to some of the unsolved cases. Those cases would provide the challenge she needed to enjoy her new life as a retired cop.

Nikki's friend, Gail Frost, the policewoman who headed up Internal Affairs within the Police Department, had been delighted when Nikki told her of her plans to work on unsolved crime cases. I'll give you all the help I can, she'd told Nikki, so keep me informed about what you're working on and how I can help you.

One of the unsolved cases that had intrigued Nikki for several years was the murder of a young couple, Ross and Crystal Becker, that took place about 30 years ago, not all that long after she became a cop. With the possibility of investigating that double-murder in her retirement, Nikki photocopied all of the information she could find in the Cold Case file related to that case.

Well, tomorrow would be her last official day at work. The next day, Saturday, she'd take a careful look at the file on the Ross and Crystal Becker murders. See what direction her investigation might take. Tonight, though, she'd have some fun--the kind of fun she hadn't had much of in the past.

Chapter 2

Nikki Hamilton expertly maneuvered her big Harley-Davidson through the parking lot of Barefoot Tom's Bar and parked in the part of the lot reserved for bikers. Although the evening was still young, there already were six motorcycles parked there. Vehicles of all kinds were starting to fill up the rest of the parking lot. Barefoot Tom's Bar would be lively tonight.

She'd ridden a motorcycle since she'd been eighteen, and was looking forward to having even more time to ride now that she was retired. And that was something else that Chief Denison hadn't appreciated about her lifestyle; he'd said the way she rode a bike was not becoming to a lady detective. Those were his words.

But for Nikki there wasn't much that could top the thrill of riding a big ol' Harley-Davidson. Settle back into that comfortable leather seat, hit the starter, feel the rumble of the engine throughout her entire body--and then twist the throttle open! Feel the wind in her face. That was the most exhilaration to be found on this planet!

Red and black neon signs welcomed Nikki to Barefoot Tom's Bar. She'd been there several times in the past few evenings, getting acquainted with the place and with its patrons. The place was lively, with her favorite country music, sometimes live and sometimes from the jukebox.

There could be no doubt about something else. Nikki had particularly enjoyed the attention she'd received from several of the men who frequented Barefoot Tom's, especially Greg Browning.

Greg Browning was about Nikki's age, she judged, around 60 years of age. Maybe a year or two older. Because she stood almost six feet tall, a lot of guys seemed insecure around her, but not Greg. He was a good two or three inches taller than she was. He'd invited her to dance with him a few nights ago, and then to play pool. She couldn't recall when, if ever, she'd had such a good time.

Nikki had enjoyed getting acquainted with Greg Browning. He was a retired marine, having served in a variety of trouble spots around the world. Not that he bragged about his service record, nor did he try to impress her with his exploits. No. They'd hit it off well together, and neither found it necessary to show off to the other.

Of course, a number of the guys in Barefoot Tom's Bar had looked her over. That was okay with Nikki. She had the figure to turn heads, and she knew it--and she dressed accordingly. She also knew that she hadn't had much time for guys since she began working as a detective. That was going to change in her retirement. She'd have time for guys in her life now.

A live band playing country music welcomed Nikki as she walked in to the bar that Thursday night. About half of the tables were occupied, but the one she favored was vacant and she took her time looking over the people gathered there so far in the bar as she made her way to that table. Waved at a couple of them. Moments later, she slipped off her jacket and hung it over the back of her chair.

One of the bar maids, a girl named Janet came right over. What can I get for you, Nikki? she asked.

Nikki studied the menu written on a chalk board behind the bar, and then ordered her usual bacon-burger, fries, and a Coke. People might think she was strange for avoiding alcoholic beverages, but that was her choice. Let people think what they wanted. She didn't like what alcohol did to her, and she also knew that it was easy to poison or dope alcoholic beverages. No. Coke in the bottle was what she wanted that night--and likely would want every night she was there.

* * * * *

Of all the men in Barefoot Tom's Bar who looked over Nikki that night, none was more interested in her presence there than Chad Jackson. He and his friend, Jeff Miller, were seated on stools at the far side of the bar, looking over the women, when Nikki walked in.

Wow! Take a look at that babe, Miller whispered as he eyed Nikki, nudging Jackson with his elbow as he spoke.

Yeah, I see her, Jackson growled, ducking his head slightly. Let's you an' me get the hell out of here.

What . . . What's going on?

Jackson didn't answer. He reached into his pocket and retrieved two twenty dollar bills. Tossed them on the counter. Nodded to the bartender. The cash would more than cover both of the men's bar tabs.

Come on, let's go, Jeff, Jackson whispered again.

Both men slipped away from the bar and silently made their way to the back door. Once they were in the alley behind the bar, Miller turned to Jackson. What's going on that made you want to leave in such a hurry, Chad? he asked.

You saw that tall bitch come in, right? The one you pointed out to me? Know who I mean?

Yeah. Damned good looker. I wouldn't mind gettin' acquainted with her.

You don't know who she is, do you?

No. Who is she?

That's Nikki Hamilton.

Nikki Hamilton? Yeah? So, who is Nikki Hamilton, or what's the big deal with us leaving the bar in a toot when she comes in?

Jackson scowled. She's the bitch who put me away for seventeen years.

She's a cop?

Yeah, she's a damned detective. It's because of her that I spent the last seventeen years in the pen.

You think she'd recognize you now?

Jackson grinned, but his eyes were hard. I hope not, but I don't want to take the chance, 'cause I've got plans for her.

Plans for her? You've got plans for her?

Damned right, I do. That sexy bitch was in Barefoot Tom's two nights ago. Last night, too. I saw her both nights, but I made sure she didn't see me. Right then I got some new ideas about how she's gonna pay for what she did to me.

Miller grinned. He had a good idea of the kind of plans his friend had for the lady cop. It's too early to call it a night, Chad. Whatdaya say we head on over to Whisky Joe's? Have another drink? Tell me what you know about this gal?

Yeah.

The two men climbed into Jeff Miller's Ford Mustang, which was parked behind the bar. He drove them around to where Chad Jackson had parked his Toyota Camry. I'll follow you over to Whisky Joe's, Miller told his friend.

Once they were seated at an out-of-the-way table in Whisky Joe's Bar, beer mugs in hand, Miller turned to Jackson. You say you saw this gal in Barefoot Tom's two nights ago?

Yeah. Saw her there last night, too. Actually, it was damned nice of her to show up that way. Saved me some trouble.

Saved you some trouble? How so?

Jackson laughed. I followed her home. Found out where she lived.

Miller nodded. She go home alone?

Both nights she did. I doubt she will after she gets to know some of the guys that hang out there. Barefoot Tom's is pretty much a hang out for older guys and gals. Good lookin' as she is, she won't leave by herself after she gets acquainted.

What's she drive?

The first time I followed her home she was riding a big ol' Harley-Davidson.

Girl on a motorcycle, eh? That's a little different.

Yeah. It's a big bike, too. Probably the biggest one Harley-Davidson makes. From what I know about riding bikes, she's a damned good rider, too. Not a reckless type, but she moves on out.

You said you saw her on a bike the first time you followed her home. How about the second time? What's she drivin' then?

Jackson grinned. She was drivin' a blue Ford Escape.

A Harley-Davidson and a Ford Escape. Now those are two different kinds of rides.

Yeah.

How's the parking where she lives?

Good--for the residents. She's got secured underground parking for both her bike and the Escape. Keeps 'em both out of the weather.

So you got plans for her, eh?

Jackson scowled. Damned right, I do. I had seventeen years to plan what I was going to do to her when I got out, and one of the first things I had to do was find out where she lived. Now I know. He laughed. When I get through with her, ain't nobody ever gonna find her.

She's pretty hot!

Yeah, Jackson agreed, "but she won't be so hot when I