RESORT TO MURDER (15 page)

"Why don't you take the class again tomorrow
morning? I'm going to drive down to Lori's funeral."

"Oh.” Dyna looked at Maggie with troubled
eyes. "I know why you want to, but do you think it's a good idea? I
mean, driving down that road again?"

"I know, I've thought of that. But I talked
to a couple at the pool this afternoon, the McManus's. They're
planning to check out and leave just about the time I need to go. I
asked them if I could follow them to the turn-off to Coopersburg. I
didn't want to upset them with the whole story so I just said
something about having a terrible sense of direction."

"Good idea.” Dyna's face
took on a faraway look. "Actually, you know,
I
have an awful sense of direction.
I'm always getting lost.” She picked up her fork to lick the last
few crumbs from it. "The worst time was when I drove home one night
from New Jersey where some friends had moved. They had a, you know,
house warming. Anyway, it was late, and I remember I was tired and
kept turning up the radio to keep awake. So, I came down I-95, and
I guess I missed a few signs 'cause I thought I was on the
Baltimore beltway, but somehow I had gone all the way down to the
Washington beltway. There I was, driving around and around for half
the night looking for my exit until I finally figured out where I
really was."

Maggie tried not to laugh out loud at her
friend, but she couldn't hold back a grin. "Well, they both go in
circles, don't they?"

"Exactly! I must have crossed the Wilson
Bridge three times, before I realized it wasn't the Key Bridge. I
kept wondering what had happened to the toll booths."

They had left the dining room and were
strolling down the hallway. Sounds of country music drifted out of
the lounge, livelier now, than it had been two nights ago, and
Maggie glanced in as they came to it. She saw Rob seated at the bar
alone, nursing a beer.

They passed the doorway and Dyna's tale had
moved on to the problems she had finding airports, and particularly
the people she had gone to pick up. "My mom said she'd wait at the
curb so I wouldn't have to park, and it was windy and raining, and
here I was...."

"Rob's back there,” Maggie interrupted, "in
the bar. This might be a good chance to talk to him.” She stopped,
thinking for a moment. "I think I'd like to do it alone. Do you
mind?"

"No-o," Dyna said, throwing a nervous glance
towards the bar's doorway. "But how about I stay close by?"

"There's no need," Maggie assured her.
"There are plenty of other people in the bar."

Dyna looked unconvinced. "I could be out
here, just walking around. I don't mind."

"Dyna, really. I'll be perfectly fine."

"Promise to stay there and not be lured into
a midnight stroll or something?"

"Promise. Cross my heart and... well,
anyway, I promise."

"Okay, then. But call me as soon as you get
back to your room, will you?"

Maggie nodded, and waited as Dyna turned
back to the lobby, looking back once with an
I-wish-you-weren't-doing-this look on her face. Maggie grinned,
then took a deep breath and walked into the lounge. There was an
empty stool next to Rob, and she slid onto it.

"Hi."

Rob looked over in
surprise, and a smile instantly appeared. He wore shorts and a
polo, and his sockless feet were in well-worn boat shoes. She
noticed his eyes looked tired, and a little sad. She didn't see any
signs of guilt, or uneasiness at seeing her, though. Either
he
wasn’t
the
driver in that van, or he was amazingly cool about it.

"I saw you sitting here, and thought I'd say
hello."

"Glad you did. Can I get you something?"

"No, thanks. I just finished dinner.” The
bartender, Dave, looked over in her direction, but she shook her
head. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about. Could we
move over to one of the tables where it's quieter?"

"Sure," he said, looking at her curiously.
He picked up his glass and bottle and followed her over to a table
some distance from the juke box and from other customers. "What's
up?" he asked as soon as they settled down.

"Well," Maggie leaned her arms on the table
wondering how to begin. "You'll probably think this is none of my
business, and you can tell me to butt out and I'll completely
understand. However, Eric Semple made some pretty nasty allegations
about you the other day, and I just wondered if you'd like to clear
them up."

Rob's face darkened, and his lips pressed
together. "Eric! What the hell's he been going around saying about
me?” He said it with anger, but controlled anger, and Maggie felt
encouraged to go on.

"Remember you told me about playing at
Wimbledon? You never said exactly why you had to bow out. Eric
implied that you had been in trouble with the police. Something
about a girlfriend, and a fight, which became violent, and her
bringing charges.” Maggie held her breath, waiting to see how Rob
would react, what he would say. She realized she hoped he would
explain it all, that there would be nothing at all to it.

Rob's face hardened, and he looked up at the
ceiling, then back at her. What he finally said blotted out all the
other sounds of the lounge, as though a heavy, dark curtain had
dropped around her. "How did he find out about that?"

"You mean it's true?” Maggie's voice had
lowered to barely audible. From the juke box Reba McIntyre finished
her song, and guitars twanged a final chord.

"Some of it.” Rob looked steadily into
Maggie's eyes. He took a deep breath. "There was a fight, but only
a verbal one. I did not hit her as she claimed. There was trouble
with the police because she tried to stir some up. She was a
good-looking, spoiled brat of a sixteen-year old, a good tennis
player, and my coach's daughter."

"Your coach's daughter," Maggie repeated,
starting to understand.

"Right. Bad judgment on my part, but I was
eighteen, and pretty full of myself at the time. Maybe I was as
much of a brat as she was, I don't know. But I do know we both had
short fuses.” Rob took a drink from his glass, and gazed at it for
a moment. Then he looked back up at Maggie.

"There were plenty of arguments between us,
but I never hit her. The final one happened when I caught her
smoking pot. I never could stand the thought of drugs. Even back
then I knew that getting into drugs was throwing your life down the
tubes.

So when I caught her using, I blew up.

"I tried to scare her, threatened to tell her
father, whatever it took to get her to quit. She didn't like that,
couldn't stand someone trying to control her, I guess, so she
fought back, in her own way. After I left her, she made it look
like she'd been beat up, showed up with bruises on her arms, a cut
on her face, a fat lip. Don't ask me how she did it - she must have
been desperate and a little crazy. Anyway, her father - my coach -
hit the roof and called the police. He wouldn't listen to anything
I had to say. His daughter was his perfect princess."

A man and woman stood up at their table
nearby, and Rob waited until they had walked by.

"There was bad publicity, and the tournament
officials got in on the act. Suggested to me, oh so politely that
it would be better for me to withdraw.” Rob let out a bitter laugh.
"I think they meant better for them."

He took a long swallow of
his beer, and Maggie wished now she had ordered something to drink.
Her mouth had become very dry. Rob's story struck her as very
believable. Or did she just
want
to believe it?

"Things just kind of spiraled downward from
then on," Rob continued. "My coach had a lot of pull. It's amazing
how many people believe half-truths and anything in print. And I
guess I couldn't handle it either. Just gave up after a while. And
that was the end of my pro playing career."

"What happened to your girlfriend?"

Rob took another drink from his beer and let
out a heavy sigh. "She played a couple more years. Then I heard she
checked into a re-hab place somewhere. Guess her father finally
figured it out. Too late for me, though."

Maggie looked across at Rob. "I'm
sorry."

Rob looked back a moment, then reached his
hand out to cover hers and smiled. "Thanks. You're probably the
first person to listen to my side of the story with an open
mind."

Maggie smiled, and enjoyed the touch of his
hand on hers. It was large, and covered hers easily, and made her
feel warm and good. She slowly pulled hers away, however, reminding
herself of one more thing she needed to ask him.

"I don't want to get Eric in trouble with
you, if you don't mind. I mean, please don't fire him because of
what I told you."

Rob scowled, but nodded. "He's a total jerk,
but I always knew that. He'll probably take himself off to greener
pastures sooner or later anyway, saving me the trouble."

Maggie leaned back in her chair and smiled,
planning to change the subject and wanting to sound as though she
were simply lightening up the conversation, making social
chit-chat. But it was much more than that to her. What Rob said
next could make all the difference.

"By the way, after we bumped into each other
on the patio this morning - when you were chasing after the twins?
- Dyna said the hotel people were looking around for a Mr.
Anderson. Something about a ten o'clock lesson with you. They
seemed to have trouble locating him. Did he finally show up?”
Charles' words of how Rob had canceled that lesson at the last
minute, just before she left for her near-fatal ride to the
sheriff's, played through Maggie's head as she waited for his
answer.

"Anderson?" Rob asked. "Oh, yeah.” He poured
the rest of his beer into the glass slowly, watching it foam up
against the side as he spoke. "No problem. Guy needs a lot of work
on his forehand.”

***

CHAPTER 17

Maggie slowly followed the McManus' blue
Mercedes down the same twisty, mountain road of the day before. She
was paying the price, now, for having overplayed the “directional
disability” excuse. Before they left, Mr. McManus had explained to
her repeatedly how he would slow down and signal at the point where
she should turn off for Coopersburg. And he seemed to fear that she
would somehow lose him if he drove at a normal speed.

Maggie tapped her nails on the steering
wheel with impatience at his slow, careful pace, willing him to
pick things up. But then they came to the spot with the dented
guardrail and skid marks. It graphically reminded her of the reason
she was going through all this, and she looked on Mr. McManus'
presence with a properly grateful eye.

True to his word, McManus slowed even more
at the turn-off spot, put on his blinker, beeped his horn and
pointed, along with his wife, to the right. In addition to all this
Maggie saw the same clear road sign that had always been there,
directing her to Coopersburg. She grinned, waved a thank you and
beeped back, then saw them continue on with concerned backward
glances as she turned.

Maggie drove on alone, at first aware of a
slight uneasiness at the loss of her unwitting bodyguards, but
gradually relaxing as traffic increased and houses and businesses
appeared. As she drove, her thoughts went back to last night's talk
with Rob, and they weren't happy thoughts.

Why had he lied? He definitely implied that
the lesson with Mr. Anderson had taken place as scheduled. And
Maggie knew it hadn’t. Her sympathies had been with him as he told
his side of the Wimbledon story until then. She was so sure he was
being truthful about that. And then he lied. Did that mean he had
lied about it all?

She drove farther into town and decided to
put those distressing thoughts on hold as she realized she must be
getting close to the church. Maggie mentally reviewed the
directions Lori's Aunt Rose had given her over the phone. As she
drove down Main street she recognized Green street where the
Baskers lived, passed it and continued on about a half mile. After
that she didn't need any more help, as the sight of a gathering
crowd of dark-clothed mourners told her that she had found it.
Maggie parked and followed those slowly filing into the church.

The service was emotional and moving, as any
funeral for one so young would be. The mourners included all ages,
but those who seemed most affected, aside from her parents, were in
Lori's own age group. Maggie recognized more than one young worker
from the Highview, particularly Holly, who was wearing a dark green
dress and a very somber expression. Maggie also was surprised to
see the new waiter, Chuck. If he had been hired after Lori's death,
he wouldn't have known her, would he? She gazed at him, thinking
that lately he seemed to show up in very unexpected places lately.
She also checked carefully, more than once, but did not see Rob
among the mourners.

Near the end, a young man played the tape of
a popular song, announcing it to have been Lori's favorite. Maggie
didn't recognize it, but it seemed to affect Lori's friends greatly
as she heard muffled sobs and saw tissues dabbed at eyes. Maggie
was taking deep breaths by this time, trying hard to keep her
composure. But images of Lori sitting in class, first row, third
desk, working out a geometry problem and never knowing how short
her life would be, made it difficult.

Finally the casket was wheeled down the
church aisle, followed tearfully by family and friends, and the
funeral cortege slowly lined up and left for the cemetery.

After the graveside ceremony ended, Maggie
waited her turn to speak to Lori's parents.

Mrs. Basker took her hand, and all Maggie
could say was, "I'm so sorry.” It sounded hollow and useless to
her, but Lori's mother seemed to receive it gratefully. Her eyes
were dry and sunken, as if all emotion had already been wrung out
of her, but she reached out and hugged Maggie, who gulped and
fought back the moistness springing to her own eyes.