Death in a Beach Chair Read online

  “Have you tried those tubes that stand up?”

  “Sure did. And they are an improvement. He doesn’t put the top on, but the toothpaste doesn’t drip out. Of course, we have a little travel tube with us here. I’ll bet anything that when I go into that bathroom, there will be a top on one side of the basin and the tube on the other. When we were first married, I thought it was sort of endearing-so help me.”

  “Well, let’s face it, during those first few months of infatuation, everything seems endearing. My own theory is that too much sex destroys your judgment, and feeling kindly toward someone who can’t remember to put the top back on the toothpaste proves it.”

  “I had gotten used to it, but recently it’s begun to drive me nuts again. I know it’s irrational, but…”

  “But when you’re annoyed with one thing, everything else is exaggerated, as well,” Susan said.

  “I guess. We probably should head back to shore,” Kathleen suggested. “James is down by the water with another couple. They may have reserved these boats for the next hour.”

  “Sure.” Susan started to paddle a bit more enthusiastically. “Kathleen, if there’s anything I can do…”

  “Susan, I don’t want to ruin your vacation. I don’t want to ruin my vacation. I’m glad you’re my friend and I know I can always come to you for help. But let’s just try to have fun while we’re here. Remember, in a week’s time we’ll probably be up to our knees in snow again.”

  “Don’t remind me!” She put a bit more oomph into her stroke, and the little kayak zoomed across the water.

  The movement of the waves pushed them into shore, and in moments they were stepping off their kayaks. That is, Kathleen stepped off. Susan, shifting her weight in the wrong direction, slipped right into the surf. James was in the water immediately, making sure she was okay, helping her get back on her feet.

  “I’m fine,” Susan assured him, laughing. “I’m just getting to my morning swim a little earlier than I had planned.”

  “Well, at least you waited an hour after eating,” Jed said, appearing on the beach with two large fluffy towels. “Here,” he continued, offering both to his wife. “I was planning on offering one to each of you, but your need appears to be greater than Kathleen’s.”

  “There are extra towels piled on the chair out on the gazebo,” James informed them.

  “We’re okay,” Kathleen assured him before turning to Jed. “Where’s Jerry?” she asked.

  “To tell the truth, I have no idea. He went back to his room after breakfast, but when I knocked on the door a few minutes ago, he wasn’t there. There was a young woman cleaning, and she said that he had come in for a few minutes and then left almost immediately. But don’t worry. It won’t take any time at all to find him. This is a pretty small resort and there aren’t a whole lot of places to hide.”

  “I could use something cool to drink,” Susan said.

  “Why don’t you two go find a place to sit and I’ll get some juice,” Jed suggested. “Orange, tomato, cranberry, or pineapple?”

  “Anything as long as it’s cold,” his wife replied.

  “Cranberry mixed half and half with some Perrier if they have it,” Kathleen answered. “I’m going to find Jerry, so save me a seat. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

  But Susan and Jed had emptied their glasses of juice by the time Kathleen returned, a worried expression on her face.

  “I brought cranberry juice and Perrier, but I think it’s warm by now,” Jed said, standing up. “Why don’t I go get some more ice?”

  “Don’t bother. I’m not really thirsty. I’m worried. I can’t find Jerry anywhere.”

  FOUR

  “He probably went for a walk.” That statement was repeated a few times as the Henshaws and Kathleen asked members of the Compass Bay staff if they had seen Jerry. But where? He could have gone for a walk on the beach that stretched out beyond the stone jetty that bounded the resort to the west. He could have strolled down the road in either direction, ending up at the tiny grocery store in the nearby community in one direction or into an enormous stand of palm trees in the other. They couldn’t find anyone who had seen him, so they had no way of knowing. Kathleen wanted to organize a search, but Jed and Susan talked her out of it.

  “It isn’t like Kath to overreact like this,” Jed said to Susan as they headed back to their room for more sunscreen. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s worried about Jerry. She says he’s been looking at photos of June and the kids.”

  “Oh, but that might be because-” A loud knock on the door prevented Jed from finishing. He opened the door to discover that the wanderer had returned.

  “Jerry was walking on the beach!” Kathleen announced, appearing at her husband’s side.

  “I didn’t mean to make anyone worry-especially this anyone. I thought I would be back before the kayakers returned,” Jerry said, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulder and pulling her closer.

  “How is the beach?” Jed asked, grabbing a paperback from the pile by the bed.

  “Gorgeous. We should all head up there after lunch, but right now I’m going for a quick dip in the pool and then taking a nap. I’m exhausted.”

  “Must be this fresh air,” Susan said, following her husband’s example and choosing some reading material before following him out of the cottage. “I’m planning on reading for a while, swimming for a while, and then, perhaps, I’ll feel as though I deserve to nap,” she explained.

  “James reserved the four lounges right outside our cabin for us,” Kathleen said, heading in that direction.

  “That’s awfully sunny. Why don’t we sit down by the pool? Those umbrellas will keep us from getting baked,” Jerry suggested.

  “I think there are only three lounges available down there,” Susan said, counting.

  “I’ll take a chair and you three can lie down,” Jerry offered, starting off to the pool. “Last one in the water buys the rum punch!” he called back over his shoulder.

  Jed hurried after his friend, but Susan waited a moment. Kathleen didn’t seem in a hurry to join them. “Kath? Are you coming?” she prompted when her friend didn’t move.

  “I…” Kathleen looked up toward the bright blue cabin she and Jerry shared. “I think I’ll call home first. I just want to make sure Jerry’s mom knows where I keep the-the boxed fruit juice.”

  “Are you all right?” Susan asked.

  “Yes. Definitely. I just want to make sure everything at home is okay. You know how it is.”

  Susan smiled. She did know. It was sensational to be away from your children for a while, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t missed. “We’ll see you down by the pool then.”

  The freshwater swimming pool had been built on a large deck overlooking the ocean. Lined with bright blue tiles, the pool had a mosaic of a coconut palm tree decorating its bottom. Jed was busy arranging the beach towels to his satisfaction. Jerry was already in the water, lying on a bright orange float with his eyes closed. Susan chose a coral-colored lounge near her husband and looked around for a side table to place between them. An attractive, young black man, who apparently could read minds, appeared with two side tables and put one on either side of the Henshaws. “Did you have a good kayak trip?” he asked politely.

  “Yes, excellent.” Susan smiled up at him and placed her book, sunglasses, and two tubes of sunscreen on the closest table. “Don’t you think we should be tipping all these helpful people?” she asked her husband, when they were alone again.

  “Why don’t we tip them all on the day we leave? Otherwise we’ll be passing out money every time we turn around.”

  Susan leaned back in her seat, adjusted her sunglasses, picked up the latest Katherine Hall Page mystery, sighed twice, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

  When she woke up a bit later, she was vaguely aware of being in a strange place. The skin across her shoulders was hot from the sun, but the air was soft and balmy. She picked out fam
iliar voices from the hum around her. Jed and Jerry might be on vacation, but they seemed to be discussing a colleague from the office. She opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again. Everyone had his or her own way to relax. If they wanted to chat about the problems they had left behind, fine. She had her own ideas. A notice on the dresser in their cottage had explained how to make reservations for a massage. Her arms, stiff from the few hours she’d spent paddling around in the kayak, could use some special attention. She stood up, plopped her straw hat on her head, adjusted her pareo around her waist, and, deciding that she didn’t need shoes, headed back to their cottage.

  It was close to noon and even those guests who ranked sleeping late high on their list of vacation priorities were up and about. Each chair or lounge seemed to be filled or about to be filled, with colorful beach towels, open paperbacks, and half-finished drinks waiting for their occupant’s return. Susan walked slowly. Everything was painted in brilliant colors. But the blue paint couldn’t compare with the hue of the sky. The azure sea sparkled in the sunlight. The palm trees rustled slightly in the sea breeze. An enterprising photographer could have pointed his camera in any direction and labeled the resulting photograph paradise. Susan realized she was completely content. She glanced back over her shoulder. Jed and Jerry were still talking. Kathleen had moved her chair under an umbrella and was apparently absorbed in her book.

  The maid had cleaned up their cottage, and Susan quickly found the notice of spa services available. Massages-Swedish and deep muscle-could be had day and evening. Reservations were required and could be made in the gift shop.

  The gift shop was small, but carried just about all the necessities, from sunscreen to après-sun crème to Solarcaine, as well as lots of luxury items. A tall, elegant black woman was stationed by the old-fashioned cash register.

  “May I help you?”

  “I understand this is the place I make reservations for a massage?”

  “Yes.” She pulled a large leather-bound book from underneath the counter. “Do you prefer a male or a female?”

  “A woman, if that’s possible. Is there someone available this afternoon?”

  “Let me see… yes, Lourdes could take you at three. Her specialty is Swedish massage, but if you prefer something different…”

  “No, that would be lovely. Where does she give them?”

  “Right in your room. She has portable massage tables. If that’s okay with you, I could make the appointment.”

  “Three o’clock is perfect!”

  “Then you can expect Lourdes at three-or perhaps just after the hour. Sometimes one of her clients keeps her talking and she runs just a bit late. I always say Lourdes knows more about what goes on here at Compass Bay than anyone on staff.”

  Susan smiled. “Then I know whom to ask if I have any questions.”

  The woman laughed. “I said she knows, not she talks. Many famous people come to Compass Bay-musicians, politicians, actors, and such. No one keeps his job if he talks about them to the press or other guests.” The cordial expression on her face vanished, making Susan feel as though she had been caught doing something wrong.

  “I can understand that,” she quickly assured the other woman. “I wouldn’t want anyone talking about what I’m doing. Not that I’m doing anything wrong,” she added quickly. “Or even interesting, for that matter…” She realized she was babbling, and the gigantic orange sun hat hanging above the cash register provided a change of topic. “How much is that hat?” she asked quickly.

  Five minutes later she left the store, one hat in hand, another on her head. Having no intention of looking like a hat salesman for a minute longer than necessary, she hurried back to her cottage. Noticing that the door to the cottage Jerry and Kathleen shared was open, she glanced inside. A tall woman wearing immaculately pressed white slacks was leaning over the bed. Susan smiled. The room she shared with Jed had been made up hours ago, but in a resort where the guests stayed for multiple days, housekeeping probably had to be very flexible. She had noticed a couple of maids replacing damp beach towels hung over deck railings with clean, dry ones late last night. This was just what every woman needed, she realized, twenty-four/seven maid service. Her own cottage was sparkling and neat, and she tossed the horrible orange hat on the batik bedspread. She would figure out what to do with it later. Perhaps she could donate it to one of the charity sales that organizations in Hancock were so fond of holding. If, that is, she even managed to get it back to Hancock. It certainly wouldn’t fit under her airplane seat or in the overhead compartment. She could, she supposed, always wear it.

  Back at the pool, Jed and Kathleen were now swimming slow crawls up and down the length of the pool. Jerry was lying on the lounge his wife had occupied, facing the sea. From this angle, Susan couldn’t tell if he was napping or just watching the water. But it was obvious that no one needed her. Small boys, so thin that their cutoff jeans were in danger of slipping from their hips, were out on the gazebo dropping nets in the water and pulling them up, full of shimmering silver fish. Curious, Susan turned around and headed in that direction.

  Two middle-aged couples were sitting on chairs placed along the deck leading to the gazebo. They shared two small tables. One was covered with half-filled glasses; on the other, one of the women was playing a lackadaisical game of solitaire. “I thought we were going to play bridge,” she was saying as Susan passed by.

  “After lunch,” one of the men said.

  “After my nap,” the other man added.

  The two women exchanged glances. “Perhaps,” the one who had just ended her lonely card game said to the other. “Perhaps we should go see what there is to buy in the gift shop.”

  “I thought you bought the place out yesterday,” growled one of the men, reaching out for his glass.

  “Yeah, well…”

  Susan hurried on, unwilling to allow other couples’ squabbles to mar her vacation. For a resort that advertised itself as one of the most romantic spots in the world, there sure seemed to be a lot of bickering going on.

  The boys who were fishing turned out to be island natives, not related to the resort’s guests. They were thrilled to have an audience and explained that their relatives-older brothers, Susan gathered-would be using what was caught for bait to catch “the big fishes off the boats.” Their fishing was energetic, messy, and highly productive. In minutes, they had filled three plastic buckets with fish. They then took a moment to show Susan and another woman who appeared in the gazebo shortly after her the long, thin fish that swirled through the water beneath the dock, causing the smaller baitfish to flee out to sea. “Barracuda!” one of the boys yelled. “You see, you swim with barracuda!” Laughing loudly, the boys ran back toward the shore, the water in their buckets splashing out and wetting the legs of the card-playing women as they passed by.

  Susan stared down into the water and realized that, in fact, she may have been swimming with those ugly things. She worked to remember the little she knew about these fish. Certainly they cleared the area of smaller fish, but would they go after people swimming in the same water? She’d try to remember to ask James when she saw him again. She leaned her arms on the railing and stared down into the water.

  “Don’t worry. They’re not sharks. They don’t attack people.”

  Susan had been joined by the tall blond she had seen out here early this morning. Now the woman was wearing white linen slacks and a bikini top that barely covered her ample tanned breasts. She was carrying a long batik scarf.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Susan admitted. “I’d hate to stop going in the water on our second day here.”

  “Don’t. I find the water in the Caribbean to be like satin-warm, smooth, delicious to swim in.”

  “Yes. I guess. I’ve only been in for a few minutes,” Susan admitted, remembering her tumble off the kayak only a few hours ago.

  “Well, don’t let those fish keep you out. I like going in late, after dark.”

  “Isn
’t that dangerous?” Susan asked. “I mean, what about ocean currents, and black sea urchins, and jellyfish?”

  “They’re all there, but the risk just adds to the pleasure sometimes, don’t you think?”

  “I-no, not really,” Susan said.

  “Well, people are different, aren’t they? I love it.” She turned and looked back toward the beach. “I must be leaving now. I’m meeting someone.”

  “I-I’ll see you around, I guess,” Susan said to her.

  “Yes, you will. Of course you will.” The words floated over her shoulder, and her exit left Susan squinting into the sun. She felt as though she was watching someone play a part. And the actor’s face was definitely familiar. Where had she seen this woman before?

  FIVE

  It began as the worst massage ever. Lourdes had strong hands and knew what she was doing, and although Susan’s shoulder felt better almost immediately, she found it difficult to relax while someone else was talking. And Lourdes had a lot to talk about-starting with her previous client.

  Lourdes was waiting for Susan on the deck of the Henshaws’ cottage-early, she explained, because her last client had failed to show up for her appointment. It was happening more and more, she continued while setting up her massage table. Susan had retreated to the bathroom to undress. When she reappeared in the bedroom wrapped in one of the heavy terry cloth, one-size-fits-all robes the resort provided, Lourdes was still complaining about being stood up.

  “I don’t make the appointments. I am told where to go to, what time to show up, and I do what I’m told. Always I do what I’m told. I was brought up poor, but I was taught to be reliable. Some of these rich people who come here could use a little training in reliability.” She stopped smoothing out the towel she had laid on the table, looked at Susan, and apparently realized who she was complaining to. “Most of our guests are wonderful people, you understand. I don’t complain about them.”

  Susan smiled. “I understand.”