Merry Jones - Elle Harrison 02 - Elective Procedures (14 page)

But when we said good-bye, Alain pulled me behind a palm tree. His arms wrapped around me as he leaned forward and
gave me a kiss like soft butter. As I watched him walk off, I lifted my hand to my lips, not sure of his sincerity. Not sure that I could move.

The maid was in my bedroom, so I grabbed my bathing suit and went to Jen and Susan’s to change.

“He’s calling back any minute.” Susan’s hands were on her hips. “You’re going to have to talk to him sooner or later—”

“WTF, Susad. You doh I ca’t. Everythigg fuckigg hurts. Where’s Dr. fuckigg Du Bois? I’ve called his office eleved tibes—” Jen saw me at the door, began screeching at me. “There you are. Where’ve you bid? Susad said you were off with by doctor. Is that why he could’t take by calls? What are you doigg, screwigg by fucking doctor?”

“Calm down, Jen,” Susan rolled her eyes. She stood beside the bed, holding Jen’s cell phone.

“Are you kiddigg? How can I calb down? Why don’t you understad, Susad? I’b sick. I’b in pain. I ca’t boove without it killigg be.” The packing in her nose made her anger sound almost comical. “I probably have a blood idfectiod—and by dab doctor ca’t be bothered because he’s too busy fuckigg my fred—”

“Cut it out, Jen.” I tried to be patient. She was in pain. And loopy on meds. “We went for coffee because Alain was upset.”

“Alaid?” Jen shouted. “Alaid? You’re od a fuckigg first dabe basis with hib?”

“What difference does it make?” Susan scolded. “Norm is going to call back. Jen, your husband is worried to death about you. He’s already called three times today. I can’t keep putting him off. You have to decide what you’re going to tell him.”

“Uh-uh. I ca’t deal with Dorb.”

“Well, I’m not making excuses for you anymore. I have work to do.” Susan put the phone on Jen’s bed.

Jen pouted, held up her phone. “Elle, please. Call Dr. Du Bois for be? Obviously, he’ll take your calls—”

“Can I help you?” Susan faced the door.

The maid was standing just outside the bedroom, facing away. Listening? “Señoras. I finished those rooms. I come back for this one later, okay?”

Yes, of course. No problem. Susan thanked her and headed into the living room for her computer.

I peeled off my clothes, pulled on my bathing suit.

Jen sulked. “I’b serious, Elle. Call hib? I’b biserable.”

I thought of Alain’s kiss. Didn’t want to call him. But Jen was suffering. I could call on her behalf, leave another message. I picked up her phone, but before I could punch in a number, it rang.

Jen stiffened. As I handed it to her, I saw that the screen said, “Norm.”

“I ca’t take it.” Jen shimmied into her pillows.

“Are you going to let it ring?”

“Doh, you adswer it.”

I held it out.

She snarled at me.

It kept ringing.

She stopped snarling and stared at the phone, her eyes wide. She looked terrified.

I took pity and answered. “Hi, Norm,” I said cheerily, and handed the phone to Jen.

I slathered myself with sunblock, especially my burned shoulders. Did sunblock work if the skin was already burned? Was skin like burned meat, just getting more and more charred? I pictured myself as a steak on the grill, turning black and drying out, becoming hard like coal. Never mind. The air was gentle, and the water rolled steadily up and back, slapping the sand. I lay back, felt the sun’s caress.

When I’d left the suite, Jen had been telling Norm that her nose was stuffed because she’d come down with a terrible cold. That she’d been sleeping when he’d called, that Susan hadn’t
wanted to wake her because she’d been up with a fever all night. I wondered what Norm would say when he found out the truth. Pictured him gaping, stunned, unable to grasp what Jen had done. But Norm wasn’t my problem. Jen would handle him on her own.

I’d headed out. Found my spot near the edge of the property, away from the other tourists. Stretched out on a lounge. Closed my eyes. Saw warm red light.

And the shredded face of a dead woman.

I opened my eyes. Vendors wandered the sand with their wares. Pelicans rode air pockets above the palms. My hands were shaking again.

Susan had noticed. “You all right?” She’d looked up from her work, stopping me as I’d gone out.

I’d shrugged. “You?”

She’d shaken her head. “Not the vacation I’d had in mind.”

I’d agreed, sighed. Asked about her work, but she’d ignored the question. “Don’t put on an act, Elle. These deaths—I know you’re upset.”

No point pretending otherwise. I’d nodded.

“You want to talk?”

I’d thanked her. Said that, for now, I just wanted to sit by the ocean.

She’d sighed. “I should be done with this filing today. After that, maybe we can get away from here. There’s a big celebration in Puerto Vallarta. It’s twelve-days long in honor of the Virgin of Guadalupe. People come from all over the country. We should go one day. If you’re up for it.”

“Yes,” I’d agreed. “We should.”

But I couldn’t imagine going to a big celebration. Were there carnival rides? Sideshows? Fortune-tellers like Madam Therese?

I lay back, plopped my hat over my face to block out the sun’s red light. Concentrated on relaxing, beginning with my toes, moving up to my ankles, my shins, my knees. Pushing tension out with every breath, inhaling freshness and strength. Trying
to be at one with the water, the breeze. I was up to my shoulders, letting their tightness ease, clearing my mind when someone grabbed my arm.

“Thank God, Elle. You have to help me.” Melanie was breathless.

I moved my arm away, squinted up at her. “What happened?”

“What do you think? Luis. When I got to my room last night, I could tell he’d been there.”

“How?”

“My clothes were rearranged and underwear was missing. Later, he sent a bottle of wine to my room. And he kept calling. Should I go on?”

I lay back, listless. I wanted to be a slug, didn’t want to hear about Melanie’s drama.

“Melanie. I’m wiped out. A woman was murdered last night. I found her body—”

“I know, I heard about it. It must have been awful. But, Elle, I need your help.”

Was she really that self-absorbed? I shook my head. No. I wasn’t available.

“Please, Elle—when Luis called last night, he threatened me.”

I closed my eyes. Wasn’t interested.

“I’m not kidding, Elle. When I turned him down, he said I was making a mistake and I’d be sorry. A half hour later, he tried to get into my room.”

Really?

“I had the bolt on, thank God. Who knows what he’d have done if he’d gotten in. He’s completely obsessed with me.”

I shaded the glare of the sun with my hand, squinted up at Melanie’s big beach bag, her skinny stick-frame body, her oversize sunglasses. And saw Greta’s face, cut to ribbons. “Melanie. You need to go to hotel management. He’s gone too far.”

“No.” She tugged at me again. “It’s just my word against
his. I need proof. He took my stuff. I’m going to get it back. You’re my witness. Come on.”

I didn’t move. Had no energy. My eyes burned, body ached. And Melanie had no business foisting her problems onto me. Foisting? Really? What part of my brain had that word come from? Had I even used it right? Melanie kept tugging my hand.

“It won’t take long. Promise.”

“Melanie,” my voice was a pathetic whine, “I’ve had a hellish night. I need to rest.”

“You’ll rest afterward. We have to go now, while he’s distracted.”

I rolled over onto my side, turning away from her. She walked around the lounge chair to face me again.

“Elle, I don’t have anyone else to turn to. You have to help me.”

I did? “Sorry.” I wasn’t.

“Please.”

Melanie wasn’t going away. I took a breath. “Help you how?”

“It’ll just take five minutes.”

That wasn’t an answer. But five minutes? After that, would she leave me alone? “Okay. Five minutes. That’s all. Then you’re on your own.”

“You’re the best, Elle.”

I sat up, grumbling. Got to my feet, pulled on my cover-up. Winced when the cloth scraped my shoulders.

“Hurry.” She repositioned her bag on her shoulder, dragged me toward the hotel.

“Where are we going?”

“There.” She indicated a wing of the hotel.

“To do what?” I had trouble keeping up with her; my toes dug into the sand.

“All you have to do is stand outside and let me know if anyone’s coming.”

Wait, was she planning some kind of heist? With me as the lookout?

We passed a path to the pool. Salsa music blared. Families splashed. Chichi and Luis, muscles glistening, were on duty, setting up a net for the next water game. I didn’t see Becky. Melanie led me to a narrow path in the back of the building, turned up a stark alleyway bare of lush landscaping and lavish décor.

“This is staff housing,” she panted. “That’s Luis’s room.” She pointed to a half-opened window on the first floor. Curtains dangled unevenly inside.

It was? “How do you know?”

“Sources.”

Oh Lord. I couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but I sensed a beam of satisfaction. I stopped walking. Looked around at the stucco walls, the empty alley.

“What are we doing here?”

“Just wait here.” She tapped my arm, took a deep breath, started toward Luis’s window.

“Wait. You’re not going in there.”

“I’ll be right back.” She sped away.

“Are you crazy?” I called after her. “That’s illegal.”

She kept going.

“I’m not part of this, Melanie,” I yelled. “I’m going back.”

“Shush,” she hissed as she pushed the window up. “Hang on a minute.” She tossed her bag in, jumped onto the sill, and before I could say anything else, disappeared inside.

So there I was. Abetting a crime. But the window had been open. Was jumping into an open window as illegal as actually breaking it to get in? Maybe not. Maybe Melanie was just trespassing. And maybe Mexican law was different. Maybe watching someone trespass wasn’t even a crime here. Maybe I wouldn’t be held responsible for whatever Melanie was doing. I wondered what that was. Was she rifling through Luis’s stuff, stealing his underwear to get even? Never mind. I didn’t want to think about it. And no matter what the law was, I shouldn’t be there. I pictured Sergeant Perez and a band of armed police
surrounding us, blocking the path back to the beach. I saw myself locked in a Mexican jail, Susan arguing via a translator for my freedom while I studied a fat cockroach lumbering up a decaying concrete wall.

No, I wasn’t going to stay there, was not going to be part of whatever Melanie Crane was up to. I hardly even knew Melanie Crane. She’d rejected my advice that she go to management. Why should I be made responsible for her safety? If she ran into trouble while seeking revenge against a stalker, it was her own fault.

I turned around, started down the isolated alleyway back toward the narrow path. Felt a twinge. Stopped. Looked back at the window. Saw Claudia reaching out to me, falling. Landing face-first six floors below. I shut my eyes, heard Greta sobbing and saw her shredded flesh.

I hadn’t helped either of them.

Never mind, I told myself. Melanie had nothing to do with them. They had been alone in their hotel suites, minding their own business. Melanie, on the other hand, was prowling, causing trouble. Instigating it.