The Big “E”: A Story From The Dixie Chronicles

By RG

A murder has occurred at a resort in Key West. Officials assigned to solving the case are forced to experience life-threatening attempts against their person. With the backdrop of international intrigue, the case is solved with good detective work, all while thwarting assaults, ultimately revealing one of the two reasons for murder, the common everyday motive of power.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662403194

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The Big ?E?

A Story From The Dixie Chronicles

RG

Copyright © 2021 RG

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2020

ISBN 978-1-6624-0318-7 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-0320-0 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-6624-0319-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

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1

An important discussion involving you will take place today.

She entered the room after several attempts of knocking on the door and saying, in quasi-loud voice, Room service, which had failed with no answer. Gina Valdez had been working in housekeeping for the Best Western of Key West for five years. She reached in her apron pocket for the passkey, which was actually a plastic card. All the staffers that cleaned rooms were assigned a passkey every morning after they clocked in for work.

Gina slid the card into the slot and immediately pulled the card out, waiting for the green light to illuminate signifying the code on the magnetic strip on the back of the card was okay authorizing her entry into the room.

The room was dark when she entered. She flipped the door latching bar to the inside of the entry so that when she let go of the door it would not shut all the way. She then reached with her right hand for the wall, feeling for the entryway light switch. Finding it, she flipped the switch up to the on position. The 40-watt ceiling light turned on and did not put out much light, only just enough to see the bathroom door. She walked across the room to the window. She could see daybreak coming through the edges of the curtain. She noticed the air-conditioning in the room was running at high speed.

It was extremely cold in the room, she thought.

Reaching with her left arm, she ran her left hand along the edge of the curtain in an attempt to find the drawcords so she could open the curtain and let the early morning light brighten the room.

It was 7:00 am in this southernmost city just ninety miles from Cuba. The sun was already heating the air. Air-conditioning was a must for this location. The island, or Key as it is referred to, being surrounded by water made the Keys feel like a french fry in a deep fryer. Gina turned around and was immediately startled by what she saw—a body, a man’s body lying on his back, eyes open staring at the ceiling. She wasn’t certain if he was alive or dead. As if the body was saying how cold it was in the room, the covers were pulled all the way up to his chin. She took two steps closer to the foot of the king-size bed, and with her right hand, she stretched out and touched his right foot, nudging it in hopes of him waking up. Unfortunately, this did not happened. Keeping her cool, she realized that she better not touch anything else because when the police arrived, they would inquire if she had.

Before she contacted the front desk on her two-way pocket radio, she began to look around the room to see what she could notice for she knew she would be asked. His suitcase had been thrown up against the wall on the other side of the bed. All the contents were scattered across the far side of the bed and across the floor. The drawers of the dresser were all open. The telephone had been disconnected with the receiver lying on the floor by the side of the bed where the body was positioned. Then she noticed, sticking out from underneath the bed covers, the phone cord. She approached closer to the head of the bed and bent down, her face about five inches from the head of the body. Looking intently at his neck, she saw the cord had been wrapped around his neck, strangling him.

His face already began to discolor, turning a deep, dark purplish blue, signifying a lack of oxygen. This whole situation was becoming very unsettling for her. Gina reached around to her back and grabbed the two-way radio, unclipping it from her belt. Pressing the speaker button, she called the front desk. A female voice answered, asking how she could be of help.

Gina responded, We have a Code 99 in room 532.

A Code 99 is signifying there is a dead body.

Immediately, the front desk clerk called back. Please repeat!

Gina again stated, We have a Code 99 in room 532.

The call came back. Are you sure?

Gina replied, Oh yes! Please call the police.

The hotel manager, Bob Yates, monitored all hotel communication, and when he heard Gina call out she had a Code 99, he immediately jumped from his chair, grabbed his coat, and left his office. The hotel property consisted of about ten prime acres. On the island, the property was at the southernmost point of the United States. There were five separate buildings that comprised the Best Western property. Depending what building you were in, the guest could have a view of the Gulf of Mexico or a view looking out into the Atlantic Ocean. Palm trees dotted the property and the entire island. Though they didn’t provide any shade from the sweltering sun, they did provide a nice addition to the panoramic coastal scenes.

The hotel in its prior life was a private home owned by a Fernando Hernandez. He was a Spanish immigrant, who made his fortune in sugarcane and built his home on this remote island in the early 1820s as a getaway for him and his family. After the Civil War, the home was almost destroyed by the Union Army that was stationed on the island. It was believed by the Union that Mr. Hernandez was a rebel sympathizer and that he was providing aid to the Confederacy. After the war, reconstruction made him go bust. What the carpetbaggers didn’t steal from him, the Union troops did, sending him into a deep depression leading him to commit suicide and his wife and kids returning to Spain.

The property went through various owners and varying stages of dilapidation until finally in 1935, after twenty years of being vacant, the property was purchased by a prominent Miami businessman, who envisioned this property as a resort. With a renovation here and a renovation there along with several hundreds of thousands of dollars in investments, he turned the property into an extravagant resort for the wealthier in society. It was recognized throughout the East Coast and parts of the Caribbean as one of the finest retreats money could buy.

Unfortunately, this was not to last either. In 1975, through many years of world wars, poor economies, and possible threats of violence with the missile crisis, the family had to sell the resort property. The Best Western chain purchased the property in 1977 and immediately began another renovation project. Now after another twenty-five years, once again, it was noted as one of the primer resorts of the East Coast as well as of the United States. Fortunately, the main house still stands. It had been converted into the main administration building of the property, containing all the business offices. Guest checked in and checked out here. Two main restaurants were located here along with a conference hall suitable to hold two hundred people.

The other four buildings were situated throughout the property, which provided the guest with their sleeping quarters. Room 532 was located in building 5, which so happened to be the only building that was the furthest southern building on the property allowing those guests staying there to have two views—one of the gulf and one of the Atlantic Ocean. Bob Yates came into the open hallway that led to room 532. Seeing the cleaning and catering cart outside the room, he began to prepare himself for what he was about to see.

Room 532 just so happened to be at the end of the hallway. Yates, not immediately seeing Gina, wondered where she was. She had walked to the balcony at the end of the building to smoke a cigarette. When Yates called out her name, she stepped out from around the corner. Seeing her face, Yates realized that this was no joke. There was actually a dead body in the room. In all of the hotels’ varying past, the only dead body ever to be found on the property was that of Fernando Hernandez. Yates walked in the room to see for himself that all this was true. When he came out, two police detectives were there to greet him.

2

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