Cinderella and the Cyanide Read online

  Cinderella and the Cyanide

  Amorette Anderson

  Published by Amorette Anderson, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  CINDERELLA AND THE CYANIDE

  First edition. March 21, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Amorette Anderson.

  Written by Amorette Anderson.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  Epilogue

  1

  Cinda Rella took one last look at her planner before closing it and placing it in her purse. Three dress orders to complete by next Friday, she thought, as she gathered up a few more items from her desk and stuffed them into her bag.

  How am I going to get them done?

  I’m going to have to stay up late, that’s how.

  Starting Monday. Not ‘til then—I need this weekend. I need to rest.

  She yawned.

  Burning the candle at both ends like this isn’t good for me, she realized. I’ll give myself a little extra TLC this weekend.

  Thoughts of her fur-lined slippers, her new paperback novel, and long snuggle sessions with her cat, Mr. Buttons, blossomed in her mind.

  She stood from her office chair and reached for her cardigan. As she put it on, she noted that the office was eerily quiet. The hum of a distant vacuum cleaner greeted her ears rather than the buzz of conversation that filled the Dayton City Newspaper cubicles during the day.

  I must have stayed late again, she realized, as she finished donning her sweater and reached for her phone. She hated staying late; the way the office lights dimmed at seven, elongating the shadows between cubicles, bothered her.

  Eager to get out of the vacant building and home to her cozy, well-lit condo, she packed up her phone, shouldered her bag, and turned toward her cubicle exit.

  The ringing of her phone disrupted the quiet before she made it very far, and she paused to dig it out, check the caller ID, and answer.

  “Lonnie?” she said, greeting her stepmother in the usual way.

  When her father had married the woman ten years prior, Cinda had tried out “Mom.” Since Cinda’s mother had died during childbirth, she wanted to know what it was like to say the word. She enjoyed the feel of it on her lips, for a little while. But then she realized that Lonnie was not her mother. She was her stepmother, and for the two of them, that made a big difference.

  Lonnie did not treat Cinda with the same affection that she gave her own flesh and blood, a boy and a girl several years older than Cinda named Lucas and Gretta. So, Cinda stopped using the term “Mom” and stuck with Lonnie instead.

  It felt right.

  “What’s going on?” Cinda added.

  “I need your help,” Lonnie said.

  Cinda rolled her eyes. Of course! It seemed Lonnie only called when she needed something. Cinda waited silently for Lonnie to go on.

  “I just got off the phone with a new customer,” Lonnie said. “A big customer. You’ve heard about the new hotel going in down by Glassman Park?”

  “I think so...” Cinda said.

  Rather than walking through the semi-dark office on her phone, she chose to stay put. She slid back into her office chair as she said, “It’s a new chain, is that right?”

  “Yes. They’re already successful over in Europe, but this is their first appearance in the states. Very high class... The Palace, it’s called, and it has over one hundred rooms, a large ballroom, a five-star restaurant, an indoor pool, and a gym. You know what that means.”

  “Plenty to clean,” Cinda said with a sigh.

  Just saying the word “clean” made her imagine the scent of bleachy cleaning chemicals in the air, and the claustrophobic feel of scrubbing a white porcelain shower stall with the glass doors closed. For five years in her late teens and early twenties, she’d worked for Lonnie’s Little Helpers, a cleaning company that serviced residential and commercial properties alike.

  Going to college for her journalism degree was supposed to put an end to that, but somehow, she still found herself picking up odd jobs from her stepmother.

  The last time, when Cinda had agreed to help clean a restaurant on Fifth Street and ended up on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor of a grimy, food-splashed walk-in cooler until her fingers ached and she was chilled to the bone, she vowed never to accept work from her stepmother again.

  After all, she had a full-time job at the paper, and her own side hustle of selling dresses online.

  “Congratulations, Lonnie,” Cinda said politely. “They want to hire the Little Helpers to clean the place?”

  “Yes!” Lonnie said, excitement apparent in her voice. “It’s a big break for us, Cinda. For all of us. This is our family business, after all.”

  The emphasis on family made a pang of guilt travel from Cinda’s gut to her throat. Ever since her father had died two years ago, she’d been pulling away from Lonnie and her children, and it was clear to Cinda that Lonnie sensed it. Lonnie took every opportunity she could to try to rope Cinda back in, and not in a healthy way.

  Cinda felt that the term “toxic relationship” fit what she had going on with Lonnie, Gretta, and Lucas like a glove, so she tried to limit contact with them.

  The knot in Cinda’s throat dissipated as Cinda realized that perhaps that was just the effect Lonnie was hoping to have. The woman was a master of manipulation and often used guilt trips to get what she wanted.

  “That’s why I’m calling,” Lonnie continued. “We’re short staffed. Manuella is out on maternity leave, and I had to let Jess go last week because she stole cash right out of my purse. Two hundred-dollar bills. Can you believe that? That leaves Gretta and Lucas, of course, and myself. The woman I just spoke to from The Palace staffing said they’d like to give us a test run this weekend. We’d be in charge of cleaning the place Saturday and Sunday.”

  “All hundred plus rooms?” Cinda asked.

  “No, no,” Lonnie said. “Just the ones that will be occupied. They’re having a grand opening party, and invited guests will stay overnight Friday and Saturday. They’ll check out on Sunday by eleven. The woman from The Palace estimates twenty-five rooms will be occupied by VIP party guests.”

  Cinda sighed. She felt herself getting roped into the weekend’s work, despite her resistance to it.

  No.

  I can’t let this happen.

  I need to take care of myself this weekend, she thought.

  “You know how hard Gretta and Lucas work,” Lonnie went on.

  In fact, Cinda did know how hard her stepsister and stepbrother worked, and that was not very. Instead of voicing her opinion on that matter, however, Cinda bit her lip.

  Lonnie continued. “And I’ve been stuck to administrative duties since I threw my back out two weeks ago. Oh! The pain’s been wicked. I’m doing my best to soldier through it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Cinda said, her voice soft.

  “Yes, well, thank you.” Lonnie said in a clipped tone. “So, you can see we’re in need of some extra hands this weekend. Just for the weekend. Since it’s a family business, I thought for sure you would be willing to help.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cinda said. “I really do wish you well. It sounds like working with The Palace is a great opportunity for the Little Helpers. But I really can’t this weekend. I have a really busy stretch coming up next week, what with my work here at the paper, plus
three dress orders. I need the weekend to myself, to get some rest.”

  Lonnie was quiet.

  Despite her instincts to get off the phone, Cinda found herself filling the silence with more apologetic statements. “If I had the time, I would help you out,” she said. “Really. And I hope your back feels better soon. I know it will.”

  “It’s getting worse every day,” Lonnie said. “The minute I wake up and get out of bed it starts aching.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Cinda said again.

  “I’ll pay you twenty-one an hour,” Lonnie said. “It will be worth your time.”

  “I can’t,” Cinda said.

  “I know you need the money,” Lonnie countered.

  “I’m doing okay, actually,” Cinda said. “Working long hours, but it’s all things I love. I had three dress orders come in through my online shop, like I said.” She couldn’t help but smile as she voiced this small win.

  Lonnie groaned. “Not those silly dresses again. Cinda, you’re never going to make real money with that operation. It’s impossible. If you came to work for me, I’d put you in as a manager, and you’d be making twice what you make with that awful go-nowhere business of yours—if you can really call it a business.”

  “Lonnie, I’ve got to go,” Cinda said. “It’s been a long day, and—”

  “Just think about it,” Lonnie said. “I’d need you at The Palace by nine tomorrow morning. I’ll pay you overtime wages—how about that? Time and a half—thirty-two bucks an hour.”

  “Bye, Lonnie,” Cinda said.

  She hung up, rubbed her temples, and stood.

  Something nagged at her though, preventing her from crossing the little cubicle and finally leaving for the evening.

  It was the hotel’s name: The Palace.

  The name rang through her mind, bouncing off the tired edges of her skull, until it finally triggered a concrete memory.

  She’d just gotten an email from the paper editor, Ed, about The Palace. Leaning forward, she pushed the power button on her PC. Once it came to life, she opened her email and scanned through her inbox until she found what she was looking for. Yes! As the head of the real estate pages for the Dayton City Newspaper, she was in charge of weekly write-ups about new residential properties for sale in the city. Ed wanted her to do a piece about the three residential units in The Palace. The angle was to be educational—informing the public about the zoning laws that required The Palace to include residencies.

  The piece was due on Wednesday.

  If I take this gig with the Little Helpers, it will give me a jump start on my article, she realized. When I’m not cleaning, I could draft my write-up. That way, I’ll be able to leave work early next week to sew, and I won’t have to stay up late. Plus, I have to admit the extra paycheck would be nice.

  She sat back in her chair, and then reluctantly picked up her phone.

  Well, there goes my weekend, she thought glumly as she composed a text to her stepmother.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” she wrote.

  Her phone buzzed with a response from Lonnie. “Bring clothes so that you can stay the night. They’re letting us use three rooms, so you can have your own. And I know I said nine on the phone, but actually seven would be much better. See you in the morning!”

  Cinda frowned. It was just like Lonnie to pull a move like that. This is why I vowed never to work for her again, Cinda thought as she once again powered down her PC, shouldered her purse, and stood. This is the last time, she promised herself as she made her way out. I know I thought that after the walk-in cooler fiasco, but this time, I really mean it.

  Oh, who am I kidding.

  As long as I keep succumbing to her guilt trips, she’s going to keep roping me into these gigs.

  I have to change.

  But how?

  2

  The next morning, Cinda packed an overnight bag with faded jeans and old tee shirts—the clothes she always wore when she worked for the Little Helpers—as well as some PJs, her laptop, her sewing kit (because she liked to have it on hand should there be a rip in need of repair), and a few toiletries. She also tossed in her paperback novel, just in case she found time to sneak in a few minutes of reading. After making sure that her neighbor could care for Mr. Buttons for the weekend, she left her little condo. An hour of walking and riding the subway later, she found herself at The Palace.

  It was a new hotel, set at the edge of a picturesque Glassman Park, which was located in the heart of Dayton City. As she watched a bright white swan swim in circles on one of the park’s ponds, a few phrases of the article she had to write for her real estate pages started popping into mind.

  Imagine having Glassman Park as your front yard. This will be a reality for those who move into the permanent residencies being offered up by The Palace, this city’s newest hotel.

  Yes! That was good. She pulled a little notepad from her purse and jotted it down.

  More phrases and descriptive words came to her as she was greeted by a friendly doorman, and then stepped through the golden-framed glass doors.

  The lobby had an air of understated luxury—polished black granite floors, silver-hued desks, and a wall made entirely of fish tanks gave the room a modern, exotic feel. Silver chandeliers hanging from the ceiling dripped with glittering crystals, adding an opulent twist to the otherwise modern decor.

  Cinda set her suitcase down beside her and turned in a slow circle in the middle of the lobby, taking it all in.

  “Intriguing elegance,” a voice said.

  Cinda gasped with surprise, and as she finished turning in her circle she saw a plump, sixty-ish woman standing next to her. The woman had silver hair that was cut in a bob and stylish thick-rimmed glasses, and she was wearing a white pants suit with a chunky statement necklace featuring big black beads around her neck.

  “Oh!” Cinda said, placing a hand on her chest. “I didn’t see you there. I was distracted by all of this....”

  “The lobby is designed to sweep you off of your feet,” the woman said.

  “Intriguing elegance... is that what you said?” Cinda asked.

  The woman nodded. “That’s the look we’re going for. You must be with one of our VIP guests. I’m Trixie Trent. Head of PR here at The Palace of Dayton City.”

  Trixie held out her hand.

  Cinda shook it. “No, I’m not a VIP guest, actually,” she said. “I’m here to clean.”

  Trixie dropped Cinda’s hand like a hot potato.

  Before Cinda could add that she also worked for the city paper, Trixie spoke again.

  “Cleaning staff? Oh.” She gave Cinda a condescending once-over, and then looked over Cinda’s shoulder toward the double doors.

  Her grimace turned to a bright smile as she waved. “There’s Juniper with the Luxury Resorts magazine—a true VIP.” She lifted her chin and waved again. “Juniper! So glad you could make it. Intriguing elegance is what we’re going for. Can you feel it in the air?”

  Trixie hurried over to Juniper, leaving Cinda once again alone.

  After taking in her surroundings quietly for several more moments, Cinda pulled out her phone. It was twenty after seven. She was late; the commute had taken her longer than she expected. As usual, her stepmother and stepsiblings were even later.

  At a quarter of eight, they finally arrived. Lonnie checked in with the front desk staff, and then handed out room keys. “Go drop off your stuff,” she instructed, “and then meet me back here.”

  Cinda was pleased with the accommodations. The bed looked comfortable and she had to admit to herself that maybe staying overnight wouldn’t be so bad after all. She deposited her suitcase, used the bathroom, and then returned to the lobby. There, Lonnie handed out three walkie talkies and gave Cinda a clipboard that listed the rooms that would be checked in to that evening, and those that were occupied and needed to be refreshed. Cinda saw that only five rooms on the list had been occupied the night before.

  “We’ll start with the che
ck-ins on the first floor,” Lonnie said, “and we’ll finish with the rooms that were occupied last night. The concierge told me that some very important guests were here last night, including three models and one of the models’ agents, Evian Larouche. We have to do our best work in those rooms. I told the staff we’d be done at two. Don’t worry, I’m going to help with some of the light-weight stuff.” She placed a hand on her lower back to remind them all of her aches, and then continued. “With the four of us working, this shouldn’t take too long.”

  Cinda pinched her lips together. Lonnie always promised to work right alongside her crew, but she never did. She always made one excuse or another. She’s not going to lift a finger today, Cinda thought as Lonnie led the way to a cleaning closet on the first floor.

  Just as Cinda predicted, it wasn’t long before Lonnie took her leave. “I’ve got to go call my accountant,” she said. “I just remembered that some important paperwork is due today. You guys will be fine without me, right? And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Cinda knew that they wouldn’t see Lonnie for the rest of the day.

  She tried not to let it bother her as she pushed the cleaning cart into the first room and looked around. Gretta and Lucas entered the room right behind her.

  “This place is fabulous,” Gretta said as she stretched out on the already-made bed. “I mean, the design is breathtaking. I’m sure that soon there’s going to be a Palace in every city in the states.”

  “And we’ll grow right along with them,” Lucas said as he flopped down into an armchair by one of the expansive windows. He pulled out his phone as well. “If we get in on the ground floor with this company, they might contract Lonnie’s Little Helpers for all their new hotels here in the US. We’d need to negotiate the right terms, though.”

  Cinda parked the cleaning cart and eyed the room, assessing what needed to be done. Apparently, the hotel rooms that would be checked in to that afternoon just needed a quick sprucing up. They’d been untouched since the interior decorators had finished installing the decor, so a fine layer of dust had accumulated over everything. Pillows needed to be fluffed, and the bathrooms needed a quick polish so that the chrome and white marble really sparkled.