by Carrie Doyle
There were signs of life at the hotel, and she pulled in between a car and a very souped-up golf cart that had plush seats and a radio. She’d had no idea that was even an option. Plum waltzed past the front desk and pressed the button for the third floor. She was counting on Deepak being in his room.
The third-floor hallway was quiet and dimly lit. Plum knocked on the door marked 322 and waited. There was no response. She knocked again and pressed her ear to the door to see if she could hear a television or any conversation.
“Deepak? It’s Plum Lockhart.”
She couldn’t be positive, but she thought she heard a thud from behind the door. Then there was a definite sound of something falling down hard.
“You okay, Deepak?” she asked.
Plum pushed the door, not expecting it to open but it did. She stepped into the dark room, her eyes adjusting to the blackness. She moved to turn on the light and blinked around the room. It was empty, the bed unmade, the television on low volume. There was a room service tray on a table next to the bed, the hamburger and french fries half eaten. It appeared as if someone had just stepped out. The doors to the balcony were wide open, sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze. She slowly moved towards the balcony and noticed that a chair was overturned.
“Deepak?”
She saw him on the other side of the bed, motionless. Deepak’s face was twisted at an angle, his eyes closed. Blood was trickling from his forehead toward his neck.
“Deepak, are you okay?” said Plum. She dropped to her knees and took his pulse. He was alive, warm to the touch. His diaphragm was rising slowly up and down, but he was unconscious. Plum reached for the phone by the bed and was about to dial reception when someone shoved her hard from behind, thrusting her down. The phone flew out of her hand, and she careened into the side table, banging her head on the sharp edge. Momentarily confused, Plum opened and closed her eyes several times in order to regain focus. She finally looked up and saw the door was now wide open, and whoever had attacked her had fled.
Plum shot up and was about to give chase, when she decided that Deepak needed immediate medical attention. She fumbled for the phone receiver and dialed zero.
“Las Frutas Resort. I hope you are enjoying your pleasant stay. How can I assist you Señor Gupta?” cooed the voice on the other end.
“Señor Gupta needs immediate medical assistance. Please call the doctor now!” Plum shrieked into the phone.
“I’m sorry to hear that Señor Gupta isn’t feeling well. We do have a doctor on staff that I could send up…”
“You don’t understand, this guy is dying. He’s been attacked. Please send someone now. And security. Call Juan Kevin Muñoz. Tell him Plum said it’s urgent.”
“I will do that right away, Señora Plum. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”
“Just do it.”
Deepak was still out cold, but Plum had to try and find out who attacked him—and her, for that matter. She went to the threshold of the door and peered both ways to make sure the attacker wasn’t lying in wait. When she saw the hall was empty, she ran toward the elevators. She pressed the button several times, becoming increasingly impatient, but it looked as if it were stalled on the second floor. She had no time to waste, so she fled down the stairs to the lobby.
There were people milling around, a young family checking in, and couples returning from dinner. She didn’t see anyone dressed like a killer, though she wasn’t sure how they would be dressed, but they would probably be skulking away. She rushed to reception and pushed past the people in line.
“Excuse me, there’s been an accident. Not an accident—an incident. I need immediate medical help in Room 322,” she said to the attractive receptionist whose name tag said Ava.
“Are you okay? Do you know you’re bleeding?” Ava asked with concern.
Plum’s hand flew to her forehead where a bump was growing. “I’m fine. Just please send an EMT to 322.”
A tall concierge came over and stood behind Ava. He was young and had a solemn face. “Is everything okay?”
“She’s asking for medical help in room 322,” replied Ava.
“Yes, ASAP,” demanded Plum.
“You need medical help?” asked the concierge.
“Oh my God, I don’t have time. I called the operator and want to make sure it goes through. Medical help and security up to 322. And you go up there now, Mr. Concierge. Make sure nothing happens to the man. And today, not mañana!”
She left them and rushed to the front door of the hotel lobby and walked outside. Her eyes scanned the parking lot. Maybe the killer had driven away. It was pointless, this was a big hotel. She needed Juan Kevin. She quickly shot off a text to him with her shaky hands.
Plum spun around to reenter the hotel and almost bumped right into Martin Rijo. She stepped back, and her eyes narrowed.
“It’s you,” she said.
“You been drinking?” he asked. “You need to watch where you are going.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, noting that he was clad in black jeans and a black shirt—a perfect outfit for an intruder or killer.
“You’re asking me what I am doing here? I own the place.”
Was Plum imagining it, or was he sweating profusely? As if he had just been running and attempting murder. “You just tried to kill me, didn’t you?”
Martin gave her a surprised look. “Lady, I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care if you don’t believe me.”
“What do you have against Deepak Gupta?”
“No idea who that is. Now get out of my way, I am done talking to you.”
“The police will find you,” warned Plum.
He brushed by her and held up his middle finger in the air. She stood watching him in the rain, wishing she could make a citizen’s arrest. He got in the driver’s seat of a Porsche and leaned over and kissed the passenger. Plum squinted. It couldn’t be…Carmen? She walked toward the car hoping to get a better look, but Martin sped off. Carmen wouldn’t be kissing Martin, would she? Plum must be mistaken. As she contemplated her next move, an ambulance arrived, and Plum gave them the information about Deepak.
Plum returned to the front desk. She found Ava again.
“Can you tell me if you noticed anyone running out of the lobby before I saw you?” asked Plum.
“I didn’t notice,” said Ava, apologetically. “I was helping the tour group.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Plum was about to walk away when Ava stopped her. “It might not be anything, but there was someone…a woman who came from over by the elevators. She rushed out very quickly.”
“What did she look like?” asked Plum eagerly.
“She had her hand in front of her face when she passed reception.”
“Oh,” said Plum with disappointment.
“But I recognized her.”
“You did? Who?”
“She has a villa here, I believe. I do not know her name, but her face is…very…she has had surgery.”
“Leslie Abernathy?” gasped Plum.
“I do not know her name. But she is blond and from Texas.”
Plum mused how someone could vacillate from being so useless to so useful in a matter of minutes.
“That’s her! Thank you!”
One more person connected the dots with Leslie. Plum wished she could go confront Leslie, but there were more pressing things to attend to.
The next couple of hours were stressful. Juan Kevin arrived, and Plum filled him in, but he was called away upstairs to assess the situation. Plum remained at the hotel and informed Jason and Kirstie about their friend. She was subjected to an intense amount of verbal abuse, which she took in silence. They were right. If she hadn’t suggested
that this was murder and just let them write Nick’s death off as an accident, Deepak wouldn’t be in the hospital. She calmed them down until Captain Diaz arrived, and then Kirstie went ballistic again. Plum gave his deputy her statement then hitched a ride with him to the hospital to check on Deepak. He was still unconscious, but they were hoping for the best. She waited in the hospital for updates, but the doctor told her there would be no pressing news, so he suggested she return home and come back in the morning. She took a taxi and finally fell back into bed at two a.m.
Chapter 26
During the early morning hours, the rain ceased, and the clouds were blown away by a western wind. The morning was clear-skied and tranquil, with a mossy scent in the air. The grass and trees were still damp from the showers, but the sun was steadily rising with an unbridled heat that would swiftly parch everything.
Plum dragged herself out of sleep at seven a.m. She padded into the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The bump on her head was now a magnificent robin’s egg, with bruises that matched the color of the bags under her eyes. Her sunburnt skin was peeling and patchy. The “Botticelli curls” on her head were contorted and made her appear like Bozo the Clown’s sinister sister. She looked dreadful.
Plum quickly showered and did her best to appear like a human and not a Halloween costume. She had a text from Juan Kevin that instructed her to meet him at his office as soon as she was awake, and she sent him a thumbs-up emoji before downing a cup of coffee. She put on a casual linen dress and didn’t bother with heels, instead slipping into comfortable sandals.
Steam was coming off the pavement, and birds were bathing in quickly evaporating puddles. The dew on the grass glistened in the morning sunlight. That was the beauty of the tropics, thought Plum. There may be rain, but the next day is always a fresh start. She would miss this place.
“You look tired,” said Juan Kevin when she entered.
“Never say that to a lady!” she reprimanded. “You don’t know how much effort I put into myself this morning.”
“Sorry,” he said. She had found him slouched over his desk reading something, a giant cup of coffee in front of him.
“You don’t look so good yourself.”
“I think we both had a rough night. How’s your head?”
“I’ll live. Any update on Deepak? I need to go see him.”
“I spoke with the doctor, and he said he’ll be fine. He was lucid this morning, but the doctor needs to do more tests and doesn’t want us to come until later today.”
“Okay,” Plum said as she collapsed into the chair in front of Juan Kevin. The lack of sleep suddenly hit her. “Have they made an arrest?”
Juan Kevin shook his head. “Not yet. Why did you go see him last night?”
“I remembered he had mentioned something to me when I accused him of murder. He said, ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree.’ I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but then it gave me pause. It was the way he said it, his tone—he knew the right tree to bark up. I’ve felt that he’s been cagey with us the entire time, and I wanted to confront him again.”
Juan Kevin nodded. “I wish you had called me. I would have gone with you. It’s lucky you weren’t brutally attacked as well.”
“I was trying to lay low. Jonathan fired me yesterday.”
“I heard.”
“I’m embarrassed.”
Juan Kevin looked thoughtful. “It’s a pity, but I think you said this was only temporary.”
“True, but I didn’t want to go down in flames.”
“I think you need to take one thing at a time. We need to solve the crime.”
“Yes, that being said, I think it’s Leslie Abernathy. She was seen rushing out of the lobby, and then we have Robert Glover, the detective, seeing her make out with Nick.”
Juan Kevin shook his head. “You didn’t listen to my voicemail? I finally interviewed Robert Glover, and he said he only told you that he saw Nick making out with a blond. He never said it was Leslie.”
“That’s not true…” said Plum, but then she stopped. Had he said Leslie, or had she assumed it? “I was sure he said Leslie, but maybe you’re right. But she is still a suspect. I guess that means Kirstie is also. Not to mention Martin. I saw him coming out of the hotel as well. All sweaty.”
Juan Kevin sighed. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s intractable. But why would he beat up Deepak?”
“Deepak said I was barking up the wrong tree. Maybe he knew it was Martin and Martin found out. Maybe Deepak was blackmailing him?”
“I think the blackmailing is far-fetched, but the other part is possible.”
“I also think I may have seen Martin kissing Carmen.”
“That can’t be,” said Juan Kevin quickly.
Plum put her hands up in surrender. “I admit I’m not sure. But it did look like her.”
“Lots of women look like her.”
Plum decided to drop it. “What’s the plan now?”
“I think we should do a ‘welfare check’ on Jason and Kirstie,” said Juan Kevin. “I want to make sure they haven’t left the island.”
“Good idea. We can find out more about Kirstie’s days as a blond.”
When they arrived at the hotel entrance, a large tour bus full of grizzled retirees had just arrived. They were meekly exiting their air-conditioned bus and peeling off sweaters and coats that they had worn from a colder place of embarkment. Waiters with bamboo trays of tropical drinks were proffering their libations to the suddenly sweaty and grateful travelers. Bellboys placed luggage and golf bags on carts under the watchful eye of additional torpid hotel staff who seemed to have no other responsibility besides bearing witness to the process. An upbeat Paraison song was being streamed through the discreet speakers. The sliding doors to lobby were swishing open and closed as the guests flowed in to reception.
On the other side of the bus, AJ and Lila were watching their suitcases being hauled into a minivan. They were both wearing travel clothes—long sleeves and long pants as well as closed-toe shoes—and were departing with nice tans.
“Hey,” said AJ when they approached.
“You’re leaving?” asked Plum.
“We are getting out of here now,” said Lila. “Supposed to leave tomorrow, but did you hear what happened to Deepak? I don’t feel safe.”
“Yes, it’s unfortunate,” said Plum.
“Security is very tight at the hotel,” said Juan Kevin.
“That’s what you said last time,” AJ replied. “We don’t want to hang around to have you proven wrong again.”
“Do you mind taking our picture before we go?” asked Lila, thrusting her smartphone into Plum’s hand without waiting for a reply.
“Sure.”
“It’s for my Instagram,” said Lila. “You should follow me.”
“Okay,” said Plum, knowing she would not.
It took several minutes for Lila to find the perfect location for the photograph, which was on an incline under the shade of a palm tree with sweeping views of the golf course and the sea in the backdrop. Bougainville dripped over the adjacent walls like a flowery waterfall. She asked Plum to take several pictures while she changed expressions and angles, sucked in her cheeks, pouted her lips, jutted her hips out. In some she was draped around AJ, and in others they were just next to each other while she gazed at the camera in a seductive manner. He appeared to be used to this experience and didn’t complain. Plum couldn’t imagine many men would be that patient.
When Plum handed Lila back her smartphone, she glanced up and noticed that behind the palm tree, several feet away, was Martin Rijo, glowering at her. He quickly walked away.
“Did you see Martin?” Plum asked. “He was lurking in the background.”
“No,” said Juan Kevin. “But let’s go find Jason and Kirstie.”
&nb
sp; They wished bon voyage to AJ and Lila, the latter of whom barely glanced up from swiping through the pictures Plum had taken. AJ thanked them, and they all walked back to the entrance. Plum and Juan Kevin bypassed the crowds and made their way to the elevators. As they stood waiting, Plum happened to glance to her right and noticed the entrance to the hotel spa was adjacent.
“Hang on a second,” Plum commanded.
She walked to the spa and pushed open the door, where she was accosted by the robust smell of lavender and other aromas. There was a small fountain in the center of the reception area, the soft tinkle of water making its way down the maze of rocks. Soothing, instrumental, New Agey music was being pumped into the room. A plump, white sofa and armchair surrounded a coffee table that featured health magazines fanned out atop. Two urns of water—one with lemons and limes bobbing in it—were on a side table. An attractive receptionist in a white uniform greeted Plum in melodious tones.
“Are you here for a spa treatment?” she asked.
“Not today. I have a question. Do you offer any services other than massage or a facial? I mean medical services, such as Botox and fillers.”
“We do.” The woman reached for a pamphlet and slid it across the counter. “Here is a list of our complete services. I would be happy to discuss our procedures and go over any information with you. I think you are probably looking for something for your eyes?”
“It’s not for me.”
“Oh. You may consider.”
Plum’s eyes skidded down the list. It was possible to schedule any sort of face altering appointment, from lasers to micromanipulation.
“Do you know if my friend Leslie Abernathy was here last night?” Plum asked. She knew she would probably not receive a confirmation, what with all those medical privacy laws, but worth a shot.
“Yes, Leslie was here,” said the woman brightly. “She had a chemical peel and some dermo fillers as well as some sculpting on her stomach.”
So much for privacy laws, thought Plum. They must not have them in Paraiso. “Thank you, that’s very helpful.”
“She comes here all the time,” said the woman.
