Stalked in Paradise

by Charley Marsh

She set the bags down by the door, then picked them up again and carried them into the bedroom and set them on the bed. Albion and Lana were dressed casually. Surely she could put on something more comfortable than heels and the slim wool skirt suit she wore.

  She quickly changed into a pair of lightweight linen capris, a silk tee and sneakers, then rejoined Albion.

  “Okay, I’m ready now. Show me the rest of the resort.”

  As Albion continued down the palm tree lined shell road, Harriet slowly began to relax. Her spirits were lifted by the gentle breeze carrying the scent of tropical perfumed flowers and salt air, and the sun glinting off the aqua blue sea to her right. For the first time since her parent’s death Harriet dared to hope that she could truly feel happy again.

  Albion pointed out the building that housed the laundry, and a very long garage that held the motor and sail boats, jet skis, kayaks, and other water toys for the guests. A mechanic’s garage sat next to it.

  The buildings were all one story and built of stone with thatched roofs–camouflaged to look like they belonged to the island. Behind the garage sat a series of narrow greenhouses.

  “Stop here, please,” Harriet said, when it became clear that Albion planned to drive past.

  “No stop. Just plants. More to see.”

  “I would like to let Solomon know I arrived safely. Stop here,” Harriet repeated firmly.

  Albion heaved a dramatic sigh and stopped the cart in front of the center greenhouse. Harriet hopped out. “I might be a few minutes. Would you like to come in with me?”

  “I wait.” Albion reached under his seat and pulled out a crushed straw hat. He slouched down in his seat and placed the hat over his face.

  Harriet shrugged and entered the greenhouse. “Sol? Solly, are you in here?”

  An incredibly good-looking man popped his head out of a glass-walled office on her right and smiled. Tall and slim with brown hair, warm brown eyes, and the classic features of a Greek god, Solomon Ayers turned heads everywhere he went, even with his limp.

  He also happened to be Harriet’s best friend. They had met up on the streets of Portland, Maine eleven years ago. Both were teenaged runaways struggling to survive without getting sucked down into the drug scene that seemed to catch every street person, or forced into prostituting for money so they could eat.

  They had buddied up, watched each other’s backs and shared what food they could scrounge or steal. They earned money here and there doing odd jobs and eventually were able to rent a small one room apartment together.

  They had remained roommates as their situation continued to improve, renting nicer and larger apartments until Harriet had moved out two years before. Solomon had recommended Harriet to Mr. Wade after he had been hired on as the resort’s head gardener. As far as she was concerned she pretty much owed her existence to her friend.

  Solomon opened his arms and gathered Harriet into a warm hug. “There you are, Harry. I was beginning to wonder if you’d chickened out.”

  Harriet pulled away and scowled at her friend. “Chickened out? Why would I do that?”

  Solomon shrugged. “You know. I thought maybe Bradley applied some pressure and talked you into staying.”

  “Not a chance.” Harriet didn’t want to talk about Bradley Higgins. He was the past. Over and done with. She was all about her future. “So, this is your new domain, huh?”

  Solomon grinned, exposing white, even teeth. He spread his arms. “Seven greenhouses. We grow the flowers for the guest cottage bouquets and the arrangements for the public areas like the dining rooms and check-in, and anywhere else flowers are needed. We also provide the kitchen with fresh veggies and some fruits. Do you have time for a tour?”

  Harriet thought of Albion waiting in the golf cart and almost said no, but then thought that her guide was probably sleeping under his hat. “Sure. I’d love a tour.”

  She hooked her arm through his. “You can tell me about the staff you’ve met while you show me around.”

  They spent the next forty minutes touring Solomon’s domain and catching up. Harriet loved the greenhouses. They smelled of rich, moist earth, fresh greenery, and heady perfume. The variety of flower shapes and colors were a feast for her eyes.

  Solomon introduced her to his crew. He had three men and five women to help him plant, weed, trim, harvest, create arrangements, and keep the greenhouses clean. They were all pleasant and seemed content with the work. He told her that he also managed a crew of groundskeepers who were all out working at the moment.

  “It looks like you picked yourself a good crew, Solly. I’m happy for you,” Harriet said as she followed him into the last greenhouse. “Any new men in your life?”

  Harriet’s friend had been upfront with her about his homosexuality the first day they met. She loved Solly for the warm and loving friend he had become, but still struggled to accept how loose and easy about sexual partners he could be.

  She was a little old-fashioned that way, she admitted to herself. While easy birth control and disease protection made casual sex commonplace, it had never been easy for her. Unlike Solly, who picked up and dropped partners based on how attractive he found them, she had to feel a connection with her partner, no matter how attractive he was.

  “I’ve been too busy,” Solomon answered with a rueful grin. “Once the guests start arriving and we get settled into a daily routine I might have time to look around.”

  They walked down the greenhouse’s center aisle in a companionable silence, stopping now and then to examine a special plant he wanted to point out.

  Harriet studied her friend. She had never seen him look so happy, even without a current lover.

  Solomon had a true affinity for plants and his love and understanding of them showed in each greenhouse and the way he had trained his workers. The plants were handled with respect and care and were obviously thriving under his attention.

  They had almost reached the back wall of the last greenhouse when Solomon stopped and swore.

  “What is it?” Harriet looked at the tables on either side of the aisle but couldn’t see anything out of place.

  Solomon strode toward the end wall which was covered with a thick flowering vine.

  “Oh, that vine is beautiful. What is–” Harriet stopped, dumbfounded. A man’s body hung from the center of the thick vine, surrounded by drooping clusters of heavily scented purple flowers.

  “Is-is that a mannequin?” she asked. The stiff form hung with its back to them. “Is someone playing a joke?”

  Solomon reached the body. He lifted one hand and touched it briefly. It felt cold and stiff and real. He snatched his hand back.

  “No. I’m afraid it’s a real man.” He turned back to Harriet. “And he’s very dead.”

  Chapter Three

  It took a minute for Solomon’s words to register in Harriet’s brain.

  “A dead man? What-what is a dead man doing in your greenhouse?”

  Harriet felt a little faint. She steadied herself against the plant table closest to her and waved one hand at the body without looking at it again. “And why is he hanging from that vine?”

  “That’s a very good question.” Solomon looked grim. “I’d better call Alex.” He activated his wrist comm and spoke briefly to someone.

  “The security director will be here shortly,” Solomon told her when he finished the call. He frowned at the dead man, then moved to stand between Harriet and the body, trying to block her view.

  “Wait until you get a look at this guy, Harry. Hubba-hubba. I’d definitely have a go at him if I thought he’d respond.” He wagged his eyebrows and leered at her, trying to distract her from the body in the vines.

  “You’re incorrigible, Sol.”

  Harriet’s stomach rolled and she wondered if she was going to be sick. The last time she’d seen a dead person was at her parents’ funeral. Although come to think of it, they’d had closed caskets. Why did she think she had seen them?

  The familiar du
ll throb of a migraine began to beat in Harriet’s skull. She pushed against it, willing it away. Recognizing Solly’s transparent attempt to distract her she played along.

  “How can you think about sex when there’s a dead man hanging right next to us?”

  “I admit it’s a bit of a challenge, but I can always think about sex, sweetie, you know that. It is my learn-ed o-pinion that sex makes the world go round.”

  Harriet shook her head at her friend. Solly’s brain seemed to run on only two tracks–gardening and sex. Fortunately he also had a big heart.

  They heard the rumble of an engine outside the greenhouse. It cut off and a moment later Harriet felt the slight change in air pressure as the greenhouse door was opened and closed.

  “Solomon? You in here?”

  The voice sounded deep and slightly rough. For some reason it reminded Harriet of the power of ocean waves pounding on the rocks after a storm. A slight shiver ran through her body.

  She looked at Solomon out of the corner of her eye and saw that he was watching her closely. She scowled at him and he grinned.

  “Hubba-hubba,” he mouthed silently. She deepened her scowl to keep from smiling back at her friend. Smiling while standing next to a dead body definitely hit the inappropriate column in her mental account book.

  “Solomon?” The deep voice sounded closer.

  “Back here, Alex,” Solomon called out. He bent down to whisper in Harriet’s ear. “The best is yet to come.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him, then quickly collected herself and pulled it in when the security director popped around a large red-flowered hibiscus and joined them.

  Solomon wasted no time making the introductions. “Alex, this is Harry Monroe. Harry is the resort’s new PR person. Harry, this is Alex Hayes, our security director.”

  He turned and pointed at the dead man. “And that is the reason I called.”

  Harriet studied the security director as he stepped over to the body and stood with his back to them examining it without touching.

  He was tall, as tall as Solly, which meant about six two. Where Solly was slim, Alex’s close-fitting polo shirt revealed well-muscled arms and broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist. His olive green khakis skimmed well-defined buttocks and strong thighs.

  Harriet realized she was ogling Alex’s body and blushed. She turned away, but not before Solomon saw her. He fanned his hand in front of his face and grinned, but hastily lost the grin when Alex turned back to them.

  “What’s his name?” asked the security director.

  Solomon shrugged. “I have no idea. We didn’t turn him so I haven’t seen his face. I assume it’s one of the workers from the resort. Harry only arrived on the island a couple of hours ago so I’m sure she’s never seen him before.”

  Alex turned piercing, dark blue eyes on Harriet. His eyes were fringed with thick, dark lashes, better than any vanity transplants currently on offer.

  Science had progressed to the point that a person could get just about any body enhancement they wanted in the name of beauty–if they had enough money. Harriet knew ordinary working women who practically bankrupted themselves keeping up with the latest beauty trends.

  Unlike the current fad of ultra-short hair for men, the security director wore his black hair tied back in a short queue. His nose had been broken at one time and was no longer quite straight.

  She wondered why he hadn’t had it straightened. Only the ultra-poor and street people would keep that nose. She had to admit though, it gave the man a certain attractive bad-boy look.

  The crooked nose and the thin white scar that topped his right eyebrow also gave Harriet the impression that the man standing before her did not back down from a fight.

  She couldn’t decide if she liked his eyes or his beautiful sensual mouth better. She realized she was staring at it and lifted her gaze to find him still watching her. His eyes were amused.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked. Damn the man. Women probably fell all over him and here she was acting like a young girl who’d never stood so close to this much walking testosterone before.

  “Alex asked you if you’d ever seen the dead man.” Solomon sounded amused as well.

  Harriet flushed and made herself as tall and imposing as possible–an easy task since she stood nearly hit six feet in flats.

  “No. How could I know him? I haven’t even seen his face. Besides, I just got here, as Solly already told you.”

  The amusement left Alex’s eyes and he became all business. “Did either of you touch him?”

  “I did,” Solomon answered. “Just his right ankle to see if he was real. I thought he might be a joke mannequin that one of my workers had left for me.”

  “All right. I don’t want anyone inside this greenhouse until I can execute a thorough search. I’ll let you know when you can get back in. Might be a week or more.”

  “That won’t work,” Solomon said, shaking his head. “That won’t work at all. I need to water and check on these plants daily. There’s a lot of money invested in the stock in this greenhouse. I can’t let everything in here die while I wait for you to investigate. You’ll have to work your investigation around my work.”

  Harriet watched the two men try to stare each other down and wondered who would win. Normally she would put her money on Solly, who could charm anyone, but she had a feeling Alex could best her friend in a stare-down.

  Alex pursed his lips, then sighed. “You’re right, it would be a huge waste to let all these plants die. I didn’t realize they needed daily tending. I assumed the work was automated. Don’t you use bots?”

  Solomon nodded. “We do for some things, but a bot can’t touch a delicate leaf without damaging it, so most of the work with the specialty plants is done by humans. A bot can’t look for insect damage, or fungus, for example, although once identified I use the micro-bots to deal with the problem.”

  “All right. In that case, you, and you alone, Solomon, may enter this greenhouse. But–” he held up a finger–“I want you to keep track of when you enter and leave. And I’ll need to know who was last in here.”

  Solomon smiled and held out his hand for a shake. “Deal. And the last person in here was me. A lot of these plants are our more rare and difficult plants to grow so I personally take care of this greenhouse. I was in here yesterday afternoon, and then just now when I brought Harry in for a tour. I hadn’t tended the plants in here yet today.”

  Alex’s expression grew sharp. Harriet had the feeling that Alex Hayes missed very little. “And you didn’t notice the body yesterday?” he asked.

  Solomon shook his head. “Nope.”

  The security director gave Solomon a considering look. “That would point to you as the killer,” he pointed out mildly.

  Solomon’s eyes widened, then he grinned. “Not me. I don’t have the killer instinct. I’m strictly a lover. Ask anyone.”

  “You can be sure I will. And I’ll need to ask you a few more questions later as well,” Alex replied, “but first I need to deal with this body. My team will move it into a cooler after they’re done their initial examination. I’d like you both to leave now. Do you keep this greenhouse locked?”

  “Yes, at night when no one is here working. It’s open during the day. I’m the one who opens.”

  “How many keys?”

  “I keep one with me at all times and a spare locked in my office.”

  Alex held out his hand. “Give me your key. Don’t touch anything in your office or let anyone else into your office until I get a chance to dust for prints. Gather your crew and wait for me outside your office. I’ll lock up the greenhouse after we remove the body and check for anything the killer might have left behind. Then I’ll want to interview you all.”

  He checked his wrist comm. “It’s eleven hundred hours now. Let’s meet in, say, one hour. That will give me time to get my team going. We’ll figure out the keys then. In the meantime, please say nothing to your crew about the dead
man.”

  He escorted Harriet and Solomon out of the greenhouse and began making calls. Harriet saw that he had arrived on a sleek black motorcycle.

  She knew nothing about motorbikes, but thought that this one looked powerful and expensive. Unlike the golf carts, the motorbike ran on fossil fuel.

  She wondered why Alex hadn’t used a golf cart, then realized there might be times when the security director would need to cover ground fast. The golf carts had a top speed of twenty miles an hour.

  “You okay?” Solomon squeezed Harriet’s hand.

  She nodded. “A little weirded out. It’s not every day I see a dead body hanging from a vine.”

  “I’ll come by your cottage later.”

  “You know which one it is?” she asked. With the shock of finding the dead man she had forgotten all about her beautiful new home.

  “Yep. I’m next door in Venus.” He placed a quick kiss on Harriet’s mouth and hurried off to round up his crew.

  Harriet climbed into the golf cart and nudged Albion who, unbelievably, had slept through Alex’s noisy arrival. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’m suddenly tired. Please take me back to my cottage.”

  “No tour?”

  “I want to go back to my cottage,” Harriet repeated firmly.

  Albion turned the golf cart around, but before they could take off, Alex held out a hand to stop them.

  He ended his call and stepped to the cart. “I’ll want to talk with you later as well, Harry.”

  Harriet gave the practiced smile she used with clients she didn’t particularly care for.

  “It’s Harriet,” she said coolly. “My name is Harriet. Only my friends call me Harry. You’ll find me in my cottage when you’re ready. Do you know which one it is?”

  Alex stepped back. His cool tone matched her own. “Of course. I’ll be by later.”

  As they drove off Harriet tried to take some pleasure in putting Alex in his place but it was negated by the little thrill that coursed through her at the thought of seeing him again.

  Was she becoming as much of a tart as her friend Solly?