Dangerous Secrets (5 page)

Chapter 5

‶
There you are,″ Susan
said, her mouth pursed as we slunk past her like a couple of truants.
‶
Ms.
Marshall′s room is all ready for you.″

She ushered us directly to Eileen′s room,
which had been restored to move-in order, with her possessions neatly stacked
in the closet.

The spacious, attractive corner room had
windows on the outside walls. Two double four-poster beds lined an inside wall.
Maggie admired all the knickknacks, the coordinating wallcoverings, bedspreads,
curtains, and new carpet. A cozy little sitting nook, with a loveseat and
cocktail table, beckoned. Most attractive to me was the huge bathroom with a
working double shower. Compared to the hole in the wall we′d been
assigned, it seemed like we′d stepped into heaven.

We hauled the equipment downstairs and I spent
the next two hours setting up. Maggie seemed to be underfoot the whole time. I
could′ve assembled the rig a lot faster if she hadn′t been there.
But while I fiddled with the umbrellas, she played photo stylist, arranging and
rearranging the furniture and bric-a-brac until she achieved feng shui—a
thoroughly harmonious composition. I thought she′d been reading too many
decorator magazines, but the room did look more inviting for her efforts.

If I′d been a more experienced
photographer, I′d have had a laptop on hand to give me a better idea of
the results I could expect. A variety of lenses would′ve been nice, too,
but we already had too much money tied up in this little escapade to justify
spending another nickel. I took a number of shots from every possible angle and
hoped for the best.

Between changing sheets and taking stints on
the vacuum cleaner in the other guest rooms, Susan popped in to check our
progress. She let us know we were making a much bigger deal out of the job than
was necessary.

Actually, the whole process went faster than I
would have guessed. If we had to take photos of more of the bedrooms on Monday,
perhaps we could leave the inn about one—but that meant we wouldn′t get
home until early Tuesday morning. Since neither of us had to work Tuesday, it
made more sense to stay another night. That is if Susan and Zack were willing.
We′d have to negotiate.

While I packed the equipment, Maggie restored
Eileen′s room to normal, which seemed boring in contrast. Then we carried
the equipment downstairs and set up in the dining room.

Compared with the bedroom, the once-homey
dining room seemed as welcoming as a cave. I turned on every light in the
place, plus my strobes, and still had doubts the photos would come out. Thank
goodness for Photoshop. Nadine, the not-so-helpful employee we′d met the
day before, had an interest in interior design. She stayed after her regular
hours—unpaid, as Susan was quick to remind her—to help Maggie set tables and
arrange the food. Susan watched our every move, and I wondered if she thought
we′d try to walk off with some of her precious knickknacks.

About mid-way through the set up, I discovered
that I had my own audience. Ted, sans his new jacket, parked himself well out
of range, studying the whole procedure. It wasn′t until Maggie and Nadine
fussed with an alternate table setting that he ventured nearer the camera.

‶
You really know your
stuff,″ he said.

‶
I wish I did, but I’m taking a
good stab at it.″

He took in the rented equipment.
‶
Aren′t
you a pro?″

‶
Nope. I′m a bartender.
We′re doing this as a favor for Susan and Zack.″

‶
You mean you′re not even
getting paid?″ he asked, incredulous.

‶
No.″

He frowned.
‶
You don′t look like a
bartender.″

‶
What′s a bartender look
like?″

His frown deepened. I decided to cut him some
slack.

‶
I was an insurance investigator
for a lot of years. But with corporate downsizing and all—″ I
didn′t want to get into all the grim details.

‶
Yeah. My old man′s a big
shot at one of the airlines. He′s had to let a lot of people go over the
years.″

‶
Oh, yeah?″

‶
I worked for him for a while
after college. He kept me on, but he let others go who had twenty or thirty
years with the company. People with families, mortgages....″ For a moment
he seemed to stare at nothing, in what was probably a rare moment of
introspection. Was it guilt I read on his face?
‶
I quit,″ he said.
‶
I
mean, why stay at a place where they′re ultimately going to trash
you?″

‶
It′s those mortgages and
families and car payments,″ I suggested.

He tugged the sleeve of his cashmere sweater.
‶
Yeah,
but I found the good life without the pitfalls.″

‶
Laura takes care of you?″

‶
So far. These older broads are
great, aren′t they?″ he said, nodding toward Maggie across the
room.

Now Maggie may be four years older than me, but
she′s not a broad.
‶
Hey, that′s my lady you′re talking
about.″

Ted backed off.
‶
That′s cool. I just mean
they′re grateful for anything they get in the sack—″

‶
Yeah,″ I cut him off.

Suddenly the connections on the power packs
fascinated me. Ted took the hint and moved a discrete distance, although he
continued to watch. Meanwhile, I pondered his reaction. Did Maggie look that
much older than me?

My next visitor was the nail-polishing young
woman I recognized from breakfast.
‶
Hi,″ she said, sauntering
into the dining room, clad in a black thong bikini, leather sandals, with a
beach towel draped over one arm.

‶
Hi, yourself.″

‶
Do you need a model? I have had
some experience. I was almost in a lingerie layout once, but at the last minute
they chose another girl. I′ve been seriously thinking of going to
modeling school, though.″

‶
How nice.”

I suppose she was pretty, and maybe all of
twenty three. Her bleached blond hair had only the barest hint of dark roots.
Women with her identical tiny waist and almost nonexistent breasts were always
plastered across the sales flyers that came in the newspaper.

‶
I′m Alyssa Nelson.″
She offered her hand.

I shook it. Bony—and no impressions. Good.
‶
Jeff
Resnick. Nice to meet you.″

She leaned her equally bony behind against one
of the tables.
‶
I′m
here with my boyfriend. I won a contest on the radio. Four nights and five days
at the Sugar Maple Inn.″

‶
Where are you from?″

‶
Long Island. Yeah, it′s
nice here. But I wish they had heart-shaped tubs. My mom says it′s not a
major place unless they have heart-shaped tubs.″

I would′ve settled for any kind of a tub.
‶
What
do you do on Long Island?″ I asked, more out of courtesy than interest.

‶
I work in a jewelry store. But
like I said, I′ve been seriously thinking of going to modeling school.
Doug—that′s my boyfriend—he says I could make some good money, and maybe
we could travel.″

‶
Where is Doug?″ I asked,
glancing around.

‶
By the pool. I just wanted to
see if you could use me in any of your shots.″

‶
Sorry, but we′re
featuring furniture.″

‶
Too bad.″ She waved a
finger at me, her expression filled with hope.
‶
But if you change your
mind—″

‶
I′ll let you know.″
I was still smiling as she walked away. I turned, surprised to find Maggie
standing behind me, fists planted on her nicely rounded hips.

‶
Kind of young for you,
isn′t she?″ Maggie doesn′t usually feel threatened by other
women, but she tends to be sensitive about our modest age difference.

‶
Yes, she is. And too skinny for
my taste, too. I like my women with a little meat on their bones.″ I
grabbed her by the waist, pulled her close, and kissed her.

‶
Oh, you,″ she said and
batted my nose.
‶
Let′s
finish up.″

It was after five when I packed the last of the
equipment. All that remained was for me to lug it up two flights and then I
could take it easy for the rest of the day.

‶
What will you do
tomorrow?″ Susan asked, suddenly hovering once again.

‶
The morning light should be
good in the sun room. Or we could do the living room.″

‶
Or both,″ she suggested.

I sighed wearily.
‶
Or both.″

‶
Great.″ With that said,
she flounced off in the direction of the stairs, presumably to go back to her
office to count her earnings, or perhaps berate a member of her staff. Ah, the
life of the entrepreneur. Here it was Friday of a long holiday weekend, and
already I longed to go back to my boring every-day life in Buffalo.

I noticed when it came time for actual physical
labor, my audience of Ted and Nadine had disappeared. It was up to Maggie and
me to trudge up all those stairs to stow the equipment. Three trips—and a
healthy sweat—later, I plugged the power packs in the room′s only outlet,
recharging them for the next day′s shoot, then flopped on the bed to
stare at the ceiling. I longed for a shower.

‶
Can we go home now?″ I
begged Maggie.

‶
Not yet, I′m
afraid.″ She joined me on the bed.
‶
Just one more day, and we can
relax all day Sunday. That′ll be nice, won′t it?″

‶
It′ll have to be.″
I yanked at my shirt and sniffed.
‶
I′d even be willing to
take a bath right now, and all we have is that dinky sink. Boy that friend of
yours is a slave driver.″

‶
She′s not really a
friend,″ Maggie reminded me.
‶
She was my chem lab partner—the
most popular girl in my high school class. And I was—″

‶
Not?″

She radiated embarrassment. I put my arm around
her shoulder and drew her close.
‶
Don′t feel bad, love. I
was in the same boat. Why don′t you tell me what′s really bothering
you.″

She pulled back and stared at the floor.
‶
Back
in high school, we toilet-papered the principal′s office as our senior
prank. Afterwards, they did a locker inspection and found an empty cardboard
core in mine.″

‶
Did you do it?″

‶
Me and about twenty other kids.
Susan lied to give me an alibi. If she hadn′t, they wouldn′t have
let me go to the graduation ceremony. My parents would′ve killed
me.″

‶
Did Susan help with the
prank?″

‶
She planned it.″ Maggie
sighed.
‶
You′d
think at my age I′d be over all those high school insecurities. I
desperately wanted to be popular, like Susan, and have all the boys trailing
after me.″

‶
Instead you turned out terrific
and she′s a bitch. Why compare yourself?″

‶
Because maybe I′m as bad
as she is.″ She lowered her gaze again.
‶
When Susan dangled this free
weekend in front of me—in exchange for the magazine article—she reminded me of
my debt to her. But I knew I could sell the article. Getting a picture-spread
in even a magazine with crappy distribution would still be great for my resume.
It might even help me sell my book on decorating. Only being here hasn′t
worked out like I thought.″

I leaned over to kiss her.
‶
You′re
being too hard on yourself. You′re the best thing that ever happened to
me.″

She shook her head as though puzzled, but I
soaked up her feelings of gratitude and affection.
‶
Did I ever tell you
how much I love you?″ she said.

‶
Not in the past few
hours.″ Then she was in my arms. One kiss led to another, and soon my
fatigue vanished.

Two hours later we emerged from our room,
groomed, dressed and ready to find one of the village′s less expensive
restaurants.

We passed that deserted stretch of road between
the inn and the village and that feeling of foreboding returned with a
vengeance. Once or twice was coincidence—three times was a warning, something I
couldn′t afford to overlook. I knew if I didn′t consciously think
about it, some idea—or reason—for that feeling would come to me. And I knew
Maggie wasn′t going to like it.

I′d gotten pretty adept at keeping these
flashes of insight from her, but I′d have to introduce the subject during
dinner. I had to make a decision about what to do before we went back to the
inn.

We pulled into the parking lot of a little
Tex-Mex restaurant and headed in. Tastefully decorated with serapes and
sombreros on the walls, a saddle draped over a rail, and a mini cactus on every
table, it was blessedly unlike most franchise Mexican restaurants.

The place was busy and we waited in the
entryway for almost ten minutes before being seated. I looked longingly at the
bar and the Corona bottles with fresh lime slices poking out the top. With our
tight finances, we′d have to be content with either Maggie′s bottle
of gin back in the room or the complimentary sherry Zack and Susan offered.

Once seated, we studied the menus for a few
minutes before ordering. Maggie waited until the waitress left before she
leaned forward and spoke.
‶
Okay, what′s bothering you?″

I met her gaze.
‶
I thought I′d hidden it
pretty well.″