Death in a Beach Chair (12 page)

TWENTY-ONE

Considering the fact that murder was the topic of the hour, dinner was surprisingly festive. Susan thought that the large quantity of rum consumed undoubtedly contributed to the conviviality of the group. No one seemed to have any new information, but everyone had theories, which they defended energetically.

“I can see why they love playing bridge,” Susan said. “They’re the most competitive foursome I’ve ever met. I had thought the cards just might be an excuse to be social and drink, but I’ll bet they all play to win.”

Susan and Kathleen were strolling on the beach, killing time until the last guests went to bed.

“You know what was interesting?” Kathleen said. “Veronica’s husband—what’s his name?”

“Randy.”

“He didn’t drink.”

“Of course he did! He even ordered most of the drinks.”

“He ordered them, but he didn’t drink them.”

“Who did?” Susan asked.

“Veronica. She kept exchanging her empty glass for his full one. The first time I saw her do it, I thought he might not have noticed. But the second time she did it, he looked over at her and smiled.”

“So she was drinking two rum punches for every one that the rest of us had,” Susan said.

“Yes.”

“Lord, I’m amazed she can still stand up.”

Kathleen giggled. “Actually, she was sitting down when we left her. Perhaps they’ll just call James and he will carry her to her cabin.”

“It’s strange that Randy would pretend to be drinking,” Susan mused.

“Maybe he’s a reformed alcoholic and doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“I suppose that’s possible, although, in my experience, people who give up anything are unlikely to keep the news to themselves. The reformed alcoholics I know usually insist on talking about how their lives have changed in minute detail—usually while I’m enjoying a glass of wine.”

“I know what you mean. Maybe Veronica is the alcoholic—prereform—and Randy is helping her to hide her addiction.”

“Then he’s the codependent every addict dreams of finding.”

“Yeah, it’s probably too weird to be true.”

“But we really don’t know much about these people,” Susan said. “Almost anything could be true.”

“I suppose. Did you learn anything tonight?”

“Not really. What about you?”

“Nope.” Kathleen bent down to pick up a small white disk from the sand.

“What’s that?”

“Sea urchin shell. Funny that they’re so black and dangerous when they’re alive, and the shell is so pale, fragile, and elegant.”

“Hmm.” Susan examined the shell in her friend’s hand for a moment. “Think we should go back?”

“Probably. If everyone’s not in bed yet, at least most of the people who are still up have probably had enough rum punch not to pay any attention to what we’re doing.”

“Good. I’ll be glad to get this started. As anxious as I am to poke around Allison’s things, I can’t imagine how we’re going to do it in the dark. And we can’t risk turning on a light. The shutters on the windows offer a fair amount of privacy, but anyone outside would be able to see lights turned on in the cottage.”

“We’ll use flashlights.”

“Where will we get flashlights?”

“They are in the nightstands on either side of the bed. At least they are in our cottage.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No. I guess the power goes out a lot here. Hadn’t you noticed all the candles scattered around?”

“Sure, but I thought of them as romantic.”

“They’re also practical.”

“I guess. So we’ll stop in your cottage, pick up the flashlights, and if no one is around, go see what Allison brought here.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go.”

Allison’s cottage was immaculate. Two pairs of sandals lined up next to the door and folded beach towels lying on the couch were the only immediate signs of her occupation.

“Do you think someone’s cleaned up her stuff?” Kathleen whispered.

“I don’t know. The bedroom’s upstairs. Let’s go up.”

The bedroom looked more occupied, with clothing strewn about, books lying open next to the bed, cosmetics and creams crowded together on the small dresser.

“Do you think we can risk turning on a light?” Kathleen asked.

Susan walked over to the doors to the balcony. “I think it’s risky. Someone might see them. But the balcony faces the water. If we open these, the moonlight will shine in, and if we keep the flashlights aimed at the floor, I don’t see how anyone outside will know we’re here.”

Kathleen had picked up a little tub of moisturizer and was examining the label. “This stuff sells for hundreds of dollars an ounce. I guess Allison was doing pretty well financially.”

“Listen, it may have been years since I saw her, but I have no doubt that she had had every tuck, lift, peel, and injection ever invented. A few hundred dollars spent on cream would have been the least of it. She probably thought of it as protecting her investment.”

“Was she always gorgeous?” Kathleen asked, opening the dresser drawer and beginning to rummage through an extensive collection of lacy underwear.

Susan walked over to her side and offered to help. “Not even pretty. Wow! Looks like she was ready for a romantic evening or two.”

“Or a dozen,” Kathleen said, picking up a tiny thong made entirely from black Chantilly lace and dropping it back onto the silky pile.

“Jerry has nothing to do with this—this stuff,” Susan said.

“I—I don’t know anything anymore,” Kathleen said sadly.

“Kath—”

“I know. This is no time to give up. We’re just beginning. We have to help Jerry. Etc. Etc.” She slammed shut the top dresser drawer and opened the one below it.

Susan grabbed her friend’s hand. “Shhhh!”

“I—”

“Shhh!” Susan repeated. “I thought I heard a sound downstairs!”

Kathleen clicked off her flashlight and froze.

“Could have been the wind. I’ll go down and check it out.”

“But—”

Susan had slipped down the stairs before Kathleen could finish. She was back in less than a minute.

“Can’t see anything and the door’s still closed. Must have been the wind or something outside.”

“Or someone outside.”

“Maybe someone who doesn’t want to be seen any more than we do.”

“Maybe someone looking for something,” Kathleen said, returning to her search through Allison’s drawers.

Susan went into the bathroom and looked through the prescription bottles scattered among the expensive cosmetics before returning to the bedroom.

“Learn anything?” Kathleen was going through a pile of bikinis on the dresser top.

“Nothing interesting. Allison had some sleeping problems, took lots of vitamins, and was on hormone replacement therapy.”

“Nothing interesting,” Kathleen agreed, sweeping the pile of swimsuits back into the drawer. “Too bad Allison didn’t keep a diary telling us all about her life.”

“I can’t believe it.”

Kathleen turned and discovered Susan standing by the bed, the drawer to the nightstand open, a leather-bound book in her hand. “What’s that?”

“I think it’s that diary you were yearning for.” She directed the light onto the book and flipped through the pages. “And it looks like she’s been writing in it daily ever since January first.”

“Sensational!” Kathleen paused a moment. “I think I hear something outside again. Grab that diary and let’s get out of here.”

Susan nodded, tucked the book inside of her shirt, and the two women hurried down the stairs, across the first floor, and out the door, running right into James and his female companion.

“Oh!” Susan felt the diary slip southward. “Hi. We’re—we—”

“We were just looking around,” Kathleen said. “And now we’re done. Good night.” She grabbed Susan’s arm and pulled her back toward their own cottages.

“I—yes, good night,” Susan called out, clutching her midriff and holding on to the book. “Boy, do you have a lot of nerve!” she whispered to her friend. “I’d probably still be back there trying to explain what we were doing if you hadn’t just brazened it out.”

“They were glad we didn’t hang around. They had no business being there, either.”

“Oh.” Susan turned and looked back at the row of two-story cottages. “Good point. I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, hurry. Let’s get inside.”

“What?”

“Just go!”

“What was all that about?” Kathleen asked, as Susan carefully closed the door to her cottage behind them.

“Someone was standing on the balcony of the Parkers’ cottage, looking at us through a pair of binoculars.”

“Oh, no. Who was it?”

“I have no idea. Whoever it was seemed to be wearing one of those white terry cloth robes that hang in all the bathrooms here. It’s a pretty good disguise. One person wearing one in the dark looks pretty much like the next person.”

“That’s true.”

“Maybe they didn’t recognize us.”

“We did come straight back to your cottage,” Kathleen reminded her. “Whoever’s up there could make a pretty intelligent guess.”

Susan frowned. “Oh, well, nothing we can do about that now. Besides, maybe this will tell us who killed Allison.” She pulled the notebook from beneath her shirt.

“Great.”

“Hey, I was wondering where you two had vanished to.” Jed walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and a comb in his hand. “I asked around and no one had seen you since dinnertime.”

“Did you get something to eat?” Susan asked, reverting to concerned wife.

“How’s Jerry?” Kathleen asked, feeling the same thing. “Oh, my goodness, I was supposed to bring him dinner!”

“He’s fine. We had dinner together. The food wasn’t as good as it is here, but there was a lot of it. His biggest problem is boredom.”

“Boredom?” Kathleen asked.

“Yes. The lawyer we hired has Jerry writing out everything he can remember about Allison. I thought Jerry would object, but he seemed delighted to have something to do.”

“I wonder if we could get a copy of whatever he writes,” Susan said.

“We could ask.” Jed had pulled the robe off the wall hook and was slipping into it as he spoke. “Kath, the lawyer—his name is Jude Armstrong—wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. I suggested breakfast tomorrow. At seven. That’s when the restaurant opens,” he added somewhat sheepishly. “I know I shouldn’t make appointments for you, but he wanted to see you before he visits Jerry and—”

“No, I’m glad you did. I’ll ask for a wake-up call.”

“That’s right. You’ll be up late tonight reading,” Susan said, going over to her side of the bed and picking up a paperback with a bright cover and a clever title. “You wanted to borrow this, remember?” She gave Kathleen the book along with Allison’s diary. “It’s a real page-turner.”

“But don’t you want to read it first?” Kathleen asked.

“No. I’m going to go to bed. I’ll get it back in the morning. Okay?”

“First thing in the morning,” Kathleen agreed.

TWENTY-TWO

Susan slept badly that night, rolling around searching for a comfortable spot in bed, flipping her pillow so many times that Jed, the mildest of husbands, finally protested and threatened to find a comfortable lounge outside for her to sleep on. Susan had gotten up, showered, and returned to bed only to fall into a deep sleep.

When she woke up, the sun was shining through the louvers over the windows and Jed was gone. She could hear the cheerful voices of people strolling by on their way to breakfast. She sat up. Breakfast! Kathleen! The diary! Susan slipped from the bed and hurried to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, she discovered Jed in the process of demolishing a large omelet and plantain fries.

“Want some coffee?” he asked, pulling back a chair for his wife.

“Yes. And food. What’s that?”

“Crab omelet. Fabulous. I highly recommend it.”

“Then that’s what I’ll have—with fruit,” she said to the waitress who had appeared by their table.

“Can’t beat the service here,” Jed mused as their waitress hurried off to the kitchen with his wife’s order.

“One of the things people keep saying is that everyone on the island—the natives—wants to work here and that they work very hard to keep their jobs once they have them.” Susan frowned.

“You look like you just had an idea,” her husband said.

“I did.” Susan didn’t bother to explain. “Have you seen Kathleen this morning?”

“Yes, she and Jerry’s lawyer were just leaving as I arrived for breakfast. They were going off to see Jerry. She said to tell you that she’ll be back as soon as possible and that she left the beach bag in her cottage for you.” He rummaged through the pockets of his shorts and then handed her a key. “She said to give you this.”

“The key to her cottage.”

Jed shrugged. “I guess so. But you are going to hang around long enough to eat, aren’t you?”

Susan was dying to see what was in the diary she had discovered last night, and she was pretty sure that Kathleen had read it and left it in Allison’s beach bag back at her cottage. But they were on vacation, Jed had looked lonely sitting all alone, and, besides, she was starving. “Of course,” she answered, smiling at him.

“Then I’m going to have another cup of coffee and chat with my wife.”

Susan’s smile vanished. “It hasn’t been a great vacation, has it?”

“Not quite what we planned. I keep wondering what’s going to happen if we have to go home before Jerry is cleared.”

Susan leaned across the table, trying to prevent their conversation from being overheard. “Jed! We couldn’t leave him here!”

“Kathleen is going to have to get home to her kids. And I’m due back at work in less than a week. Susan, no one knows how long it’s going to take to get Jerry free.”

“What does his lawyer think?”

“He’s not optimistic. The authorities have one suspect. They’re not busy looking for another. The truth is that unless you and Kathleen come up with someone else, Jerry’s going to be tried for murder.”

“Does he know that?”

“He’s a smart guy, Susan.”

“How is he doing really?”

“Not bad. The lawyer is good, and Jerry feels confi-dent that he’ll be well represented if this does go to trial. Strangely enough, he seems more worried about Kathleen than himself.”

“Sounds like he has his priorities wrong. Kathleen’s not going to be okay until he’s okay.”

“I’ve told him the same thing, but he keeps worrying about her. Damn.” Jed put down his fork. “I can’t tell you how much I wish he could talk with us without being overheard.”

“Can’t the embassy do something about that? Isn’t Jerry entitled to some privacy?”

“I get the impression that they’re doing the best they can. And Jerry’s lawyer seems to think things might improve—and you might find the real killer.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“You and Kathleen don’t know anyone here. You don’t have any contacts in the police department. Susan, we’re in a foreign country, for heaven’s sake. I know you’re doing the best you can, but—”

“I know what you’re saying, Jed, and I’ve been worried about that, too, but what I need is an ally who knows the—the lay of the land around here. And I think I’ve figured out who just might help us.”

“Who?”

“That doesn’t matter now,” she answered, smiling at the woman who had brought her food. “But I’ve got a question, Jed.”

“What?”

She waited until they were alone to ask it. “I don’t know what you think about Allison. Did you like her?”

“Not particularly. And I can tell you something else.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Jerry didn’t like her at all.”

Susan looked up from her dish of mangoes. “Back when he was married to June?”

Jed nodded. “I remember when Allison introduced him to her sister. He came back to the office and said something about being surprised that such an awful girl could have such a wonderful sister.”

“I never guessed.”

“Well, he didn’t mention it again until a few years after he and June were married. They didn’t live in the same town. Allison didn’t come to visit much. To tell you the truth, her name just didn’t come up.”

“Why didn’t you like her?” Susan asked.

Jed frowned. “She flirted.”

“With you?”

“With me. Probably with all men.”

“Really? She always struck me as so . . . I don’t know . . . so homely and dull. She wore such dowdy clothing.”

“Just because a woman doesn’t wear designer clothing doesn’t mean she isn’t interested in men. At least, not in my experience.”

Susan opened her mouth to ask exactly what experience he was referring to, but realizing that changing the subject wouldn’t be productive, she resisted. “Did she actually make a pass at you?”

“Not really. She just flirted.”

“Did she make a pass at Jerry?”

“It’s possible. I know that he was very uncomfortable being with her for a while.”

“When June was alive?”

“After she died.”

“How soon after she died?” Susan asked.

“Sue, you know I’m not as observant about this type of thing as you are. And I don’t remember exactly. I do remember all four of us going to dinner at the Hancock Inn sometime after June had died.”

“We all went there the day after her funeral.”

“I’d forgotten that evening. What a horrible time. I really thought Jerry was going to crack up. A man shouldn’t have to live with that much pain.”

Susan nodded. “It was awful, wasn’t it? I remember we went out because no one wanted to cook and I thought it would be a good idea if Jerry got away from the house. I was completely wrong, of course. I still remember Jerry sitting at the table, looking down at his cranberry-glazed Cornish game hen with tears pouring down his cheeks. I haven’t ordered that meal at the inn since that dinner.”

“That isn’t the dinner I’m thinking about,” Jed said. “This was later. Allison had come out from the city to pick up some of June’s things.”

“She did that a couple of times,” Susan said. “But go on. Why did you think Jerry was uncomfortable with Allison?”

“He told me so. He was glad she was going to have some of June’s things, but he wished she could do it without insisting on visiting him. He even tried to be away on business when she was in town.”

“But she didn’t stay in the house with him,” Susan said. “He moved into that condo almost immediately.”

“That’s true. I don’t remember where Allison stayed.”

“I don’t think she ever spent the night in Hancock after the week of June’s funeral. But you’re saying that Jerry didn’t like seeing her.”

“Hated it. At the time I thought that she reminded him of June and the accident and all, but later he said something that made me wonder if maybe Allison had been hoping to take June’s place.”

“She was in love with Jerry?”

“I got the impression that he thought so.”

“Or maybe she just wanted what her sister had had,” Susan mused, thinking of the book Allison was supposed to have written.

“I don’t know,” Jed said. “Do you want to go see Jerry?”

“Yes, definitely. When are you going?”

“This morning. But I’m playing gofer. Whatever Jerry and Jude want or need, I get or do. So I don’t know if I’ll even see him.”

“And Kathleen’s there now,” Susan said. “Why don’t you go see if they need anything now and I’ll hang out here? I have a few things to do.”

“Okay. You finish your breakfast and do whatever you’re planning, and I’ll head on into town. You know, we need a place to leave messages for each other,” Jed said. “I spenda lot of time looking for either you or Kathleen. Why don’t you just write where you’re going on the bathroom mirror before you take off?” He suggested their usual method of communicating.

Susan shook her head. “No, the women who clean the cottages would read them.”

“Why would that be a problem?”

“We really don’t know who was involved in Allison’s murder,” Susan reminded him. “It doesn’t make any sense that any of the staff were involved, but you never know.”

“Okay. If you want to leave me a message, write it in the front cover of the book I’m reading—the Grisham on my side of the bed—and I’ll write to you there, too. Okay?”

“Pretty smart. Are you going right away?”

“Yup.” Jed stood up and paused. “Listen, Susan . . .”

“I will be careful,” she assured him, offering her cheek for a good-bye kiss.

“I’m depending on that.” He leaned down to kiss her before leaving.

Susan concentrated on her breakfast. It was delicious and she was hungry, so she didn’t become aware of the difference between today and yesterday until she had finished her eggs and was spearing the last chunk of pineapple with her fork. Then she looked up and scanned the area. The restaurant was about one-third empty, and many of the diners were finishing their meals, as well.

And no one was paying any attention to her. No one was coming up to her to tell her about Allison. No one was asking her about the murder. It was hard to believe that less than twelve hours ago, most of the people eating here now had been eager to discuss the murder and the time they had spent with Allison. Susan put down her fork and frowned. What had changed?

She placed her napkin beside her plate and stood up. She felt in her pocket for the key Kathleen had given Jed and smiled. She was going to discover what Allison had written in her diary. Susan headed for the Gordons’ cottage.

The key Susan pulled from her pocket was adorned with a wooden bird painted black. She put it into the small hole under the doorknob and turned. Nothing happened. She took it out, put it back in, and tried again. Nothing. Susan frowned, shook the doorknob, and was shocked when the door swung open, revealing the inside of the cottage. Susan hurried in and closed the door behind her, taking care to turn the dead bolt.

The room had not yet been cleaned. The bed was unmade, a damp towel was flung across the desk chair, and Allison’s big straw bag had been placed in the middle of the dresser. Susan hurried over to the bag and rummaged through it. No diary! She took a deep breath, looked around, and began to search the room. It was a small cottage, and ten minutes later Susan was sure of one thing: The diary wasn’t here.