Death in the Primrose Hotel – Chapter 4

Vanessa and I arrived at Timothy’s just as Lyons helped his wife, Marilyn, step from their yellow cab. Once seated in a corner booth, we gave our drink order to Erin O’Connor, the pretty Irish colleen waitress who happened to be a distant cousin of the owner, Timothy. Erin has a pretty face surrounded by shiny black hair, deep blue eyes and a bright white smile. She stood five feet three, about a hundred pounds. Her snug green knit Timothy’s Pub collared golf shirt with an embroidered shamrock superimposed over an Irish harp and the Timothy’s logo embroidered in Gaelic script above her left breast accentuated her full figure. Over our drinks, Vanessa and I told Marilyn and Lyons all we knew about the skeleton in the old speakeasy and the Primrose Hotel.
Haunted houses, spooky ghosts and skeletons grabbed Marilyn’s imagination and bring a light to her eyes almost as brilliant as the light that Lyons brings to her eyes. She was ready to leave right away for Mossville and check things out. Para-normal ghost hunting TV shows on the cable kept Marilyn up late at night. Lyons on the other hand listened quietly and as usual mulled the facts over in his head.
Marilyn St. Clair married Ben Lyons about six months before Vanessa and I tied the knot. She decided to keep her birth name after she married Lyons. She said it would save her the aggravation of having to change a lot of paperwork. Maybe Marilyn gave the same idea to Vanessa. Who knows.
Marilyn’s parents were divorced when she was only three. A few years later her mother married a moderately well off man who wouldn’t or couldn’t be a father figure to young Marilyn. He refused to pay her college tuition forcing Marilyn to work her way through college. She found summer work as a barmaid in one of the seaside saloons in Ocean City Maryland. She worked summers after her sophomore, junior and senior years until she took the job in the Department of Labor. Then for the next two years summers working through lunch hours during the week to get the extra time to leave early driving from D. C. to the beach every mid-afternoon on Fridays. She usually made it to Ocean City around six o’clock and working the weekends and driving back to D.C. after the saloon closed Sunday night.
Marilyn St. Clair, advanced up to her present position of administrative assistant to the Secretary of Labor. Before they were married, Lyons started to tell her about his line of work. Marilyn told him she didn’t want to hear the details. All she wanted from him was to know when he was finished and coming back home to her. He never talks about his work. I doubt he even tells Marilyn about the work he does with me.


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