Stalked in Paradise

by Charley Marsh

  “I need a closer look.” Harriet walked up to the vine-covered wall and stuck her face in the blossoms. “They’re so pretty. It’s these all right, Albie, and they smell divine. You should see all the pollinators in them. There’s even an iridescent green bee that reminds me of Lana’s hair.”

  “The flowers are nice, aren’t they?” The masculine voice came from around the corner.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought the cottages were all empty.” Dismayed, Harriet took a quick step back.

  Bothering the resort guests was a big no-no, written right into the employment contract and grounds for being fired.

  A handsome white-haired man appeared on the edge of the lanai. He managed to exude elegance even in neatly pressed khaki shorts and a dark green polo shirt. Despite the pair of sandals he wore on his tanned bare feet, Harriet could easily picture him in a boardroom dressed in a custom suit and tie.

  “No need to apologize,” the man replied, holding out his hand. “I’m Payson Douglas. And you are?” His pale blue eyes were sharp with intelligence.

  Harriet reluctantly stepped closer and held out her own hand. He clasped it and gave a brief shake. His grip felt pleasantly firm and dry.

  “I’m Harry Monroe,” she said. “I work for the resort and am not allowed to bother the guests. I’m so, so sorry I invaded your privacy. I never would have approached the cottage if I’d known it was occupied.”

  A twinkle appeared in Mr. Douglas’s eyes. “It’s not every day an attractive young woman appears from nowhere. I’m not going to complain to the management.”

  Harriet blushed. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Douglas.” She turned and pointed to Albion standing a short distance away on the beach path.

  “This is my friend, Albion Aloysius Carter. I just arrived yesterday and Albie was showing me the guest cottages while they were empty,” she explained. “But they aren’t all empty are they?”

  Before Mr. Douglas could say anything she began to back away. “I really didn’t mean to bother you, sir. Please enjoy your stay on the island and if you need anything at all don’t hesitate to look me up. Harriet Monroe. I’m the resort’s PR director.”

  She turned and quick-stepped back to the beach, not waiting for the guest to answer.

  “Let’s get out of here, Albie, and leave Mr. Douglas alone,” she said under her breath. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  Albion grinned. “I don’t think you need to feel embarrassed, Harry. You were only enjoying the flowers and Mr. Douglas didn’t seem bothered.” He waved at the guest who was still watching them from the lanai with a bemused expression on his face.

  Mr. Douglas lifted his hand in response and disappeared from sight.

  “It’s time for your meeting with Alex,” Albion reminded her. “Would you like to meet me for lunch afterward? We could see some of the attractions after we eat.”

  “I think I’d better spend the afternoon in my office, Albie, but thank you. I don’t officially start work until the day after tomorrow but I want to get my thinking organized.”

  “Seems there shouldn’t be too much for you to do with the resort already booked for the next six months,” Albion remarked as they headed back for the cart.

  “You wouldn’t think so,” Harriet agreed, “but I need to familiarize myself with all of the island as well as the resort’s attractions. That will take time. And I’ll be photographing the first group of guests for my ads and the articles I’ll place in travel and vacation magazines.

  “The first guests have already signed release forms agreeing to let the resort use their images in future ad campaigns so I don’t want to drop the ball on that or I’ll have to recruit another group of visitors.”

  “It might not hurt to photograph different groups,” Albion said as they climbed into the cart and headed toward the security office. “It’s been my experience that people like to see themselves in print or on the screen. It could become a “thing”–guests vying to see if they can get their photo published.”

  “Mmmm. I don’t know. Some people can be quite competitive. What if the guests began to harass me to use their pictures? That could become rather unpleasant. No, I think I’ll do one big photo shoot a year and maybe discreetly sneak in a few shots at other times, like when we have special packages or events.”

  She turned to Albion suddenly with a wide grin. “I know! I can create a revolving display of guests’ photos in the resort’s admission lobby and maybe one of the dining areas. They’ll get a kick out of that. And the resort can gift the framed print to the guest when we change the display.”

  Albie smiled at Harriet’s enthusiasm. “You like what you do.”

  “I love it. I couldn’t imagine a better job than enticing people to come enjoy a piece of paradise.”

  “That sounds like an ad right there.”

  “Oh! You’re right. I need to record that.” Harriet dug through the leather backpack she carried instead of a pocketbook and dug out a small pc. She keyed in the phrase and replaced the pc with a contented sigh.

  “You only have tomorrow to tour the attractions if you start work the day after,” Albion pointed out. “Why don’t I pick you up early, say seven, and I’ll take you around. I’ll get a picnic lunch from the kitchen so we don’t have to come back until we’re ready. Tomorrow’s my last free day as well. Then I have to get my crew together and prep for the guests.”

  Harriet touched Albion’s arm. “Are you sure? I hate to use up your last free day. You’re going to be swamped when the guests arrive.”

  “I would like nothing better than to escort you around the island tomorrow,” Albion assured her. “You’re pleasant company and I have nothing else planned. I was only going to sit around my rooms. I would have been bored silly.”

  “It’s a date,” Harriet agreed happily. She found that she liked the now friendly Albion’s company and would enjoy having him guide her around the island.

  Albion pulled up in front of a compact, two-story building tucked behind the kitchens. “Security offices,” he said. “Turn to the right after you enter. You’ll find Alex in the first office on your left.”

  Harriet grabbed her backpack and climbed out of the golf cart. “Thanks for everything, Albie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Early,” he reminded her and drove off.

  Harriet turned to inspect the security building. Like the other resort offices, it was built of thick, pale stone walls and had a thatched roof. She pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped into a wide, shallow room.

  Blue and green striped upholstered chairs lined the wall on either side of the door. No hard plastic seating for the resort guests, noted Harriet. The pale wood floor gleamed. Green plants were scattered around the lobby and a hot and cold drinks fountain sat in one corner.

  The space resembled a hotel lobby more than a police station. Only the best for the resort guests, even the troublemakers.

  The door snicked shut behind her, closing out the noise and heat.

  A woman, dressed in what Harriet now recognized as the security uniform of khakis and the resort-blue polo, stood behind a waist-high counter facing the door.

  Harriet turned right. Before she’d taken two steps toward the set of double doors the woman came out from behind the counter and hurried toward her.

  “You can’t go in there, Miss. May I help you?” she asked sharply.

  Harriet turned and inspected her carefully. Not a human. A droid. The droid’s black hair was worn in a cropped short style and her body was muscular. She had a pug nose, a square jaw, and her face had been designed with permanent frown lines etched between her eyebrows, perhaps to give her a more serious look. Her name tag read “Mary.”

  Harriet smiled to show she wasn’t a threat. “Yes, thank you, Mary. I’m Harriet Monroe, PR Director. I have an appointment with Mr. Hayes.”

  “I need to scan your i.d.”

  Harriet dug out her resort i.d. card and handed it to t
he droid. The droid’s facial expression blanked while a beam from her left eye performed the scan. “Have a seat. I’ll let the director know you’re here.”

  Harriet perched on one of the chairs and waited while the droid spoke quietly into her wrist comm. Alex came through the double doors almost immediately.

  “Good, you’re on time,” he said. “Let’s get this done.” He turned on his heel and held the door for Harriet.

  No “hello, how are you,” Harriet noted ruefully. The security director was all business. Fine. She could be very businesslike as well.

  She followed Alex for ten short steps, noting that the double doors were not wood as she’d thought, but solid metal painted to resemble wood.

  Alex placed his hand on a palm security plate beside another door and keyed in a code. “After you.”

  “Thank you.” Harriet entered the office and looked around the space. Her first thought was how impersonal it was. No artwork hung on the off-white walls or sat on the shelves, no photos of family or girlfriends adorned the desk.

  The desk itself was large and glossy black and was half covered with neat stacks of paper and a modern, very expensive communications system. The shelves lining the wall next to the door were filled with forensic manuals and international rules and regulations and law books.

  What had she expected? The role of security director had to be high-stress and quite varied in its job description. She imagined Alex Hayes had to be a little bit of everything to do the job properly–from hard-core private eye to personal counselor.

  She wondered about his background and decided she’d check up on him later.

  “Sit.” Alex waved at the pair of black chairs in front of the desk.

  No upholstery here, Harriet noticed as she chose one of the hard metal chairs. Apparently Alex didn’t want anyone to get too comfortable in his office.

  She had to give him credit. Making the seating uncomfortable was a smart strategy for a busy man to discourage visitors from stopping by to chat and taking up his valuable time.

  She waited in silence for Alex to start. He had tied his hair back again, she noted, accentuating his strong cheekbones and beautiful mouth.

  Nope, not going there again. She’d embarrassed herself in front of the man enough already. She raised her eyes to his own.

  “Here’s the list of everyone who was on the island yesterday.” Alex handed her two sheets of paper. “Please look it over carefully.” He sat back in his well-padded swivel chair and waited, watching Harriet closely while she read through the list of names.

  “Why isn’t Payson Douglas’s name on the list?” she asked as she set the papers on the desk. “Did he just get here today?” For some reason she had assumed that Mr. Douglas had been in his cottage a while.

  “How do you know Mr. Douglas?” Alex had not expected Harriet to notice the omission of Payson Douglas’s name. She shouldn’t even know the man was on the island.

  “I met him earlier. Just before I came here to see you, in fact. Albie took me to see the cottages at Kidd’s Cove and he came out and spoke to us. Why?”

  Alex frowned. “Did you recognize any of those names?” he asked.

  Harriet pursed her mouth. Apparently Alex Hayes was the only one who got to ask questions since he wouldn’t answered any of her’s.

  “No. Yes,” she amended. “Solly’s name, obviously. And Lana’s and Albie’s. And Bradley’s, of course.”

  Before she could ask about Payson Douglas again, Alex leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers. He gave her a hard stare.

  “Well, that’s a problem, then, isn’t it?” he said eventually.

  “What do you mean, ‘that’s a problem?’ Is there a name I should know on there?” She picked the papers up again and took a second look at the names.

  Nope. She didn’t recognize any of them besides the ones she’d already mentioned.

  Harriet set the papers down again. “What’s the problem?”

  “Well, if you don’t know anyone on that list then the only murder suspects I have are you and your pal Solomon Ayers.”

  Chapter Nine

  Harriet froze with shock. Alex thought she and Solly could be murderers? What? How?

  For a few moments her mind went blank, then her temper took over. She stood and pressed her hands on the glossy desk top and leaned closer to Alex, glad for once for her height.

  “There is no way that Solly or I killed Bradley Higgins,” she said, making sure to enunciate slowly and clearly. “I wasn’t even on the island when he died, was I?”

  She waited for Alex to answer. “Well, was I?”

  “No. You were not on the island. But you could have arranged for your new lover to off your former lover while you were traveling in order to give yourself a solid alibi.”

  Harriet’s mouth fell open. “Lover? Do you mean Solly?” She pointed at Alex’s chest. “Are you insane? What kind of security director are you?”

  Throwing her hands up in the air, she scowled down at Alex. “Do you even have a clue as to how to investigate a murder?”

  She turned away, then turned back, placed her fists on her hips, and glared at the man watching her closely.

  “Solomon Ayers is not, nor has he ever been, my lover. And while he is my closest friend, he would never, never ever, kill for me. It just isn’t in his DNA. Solly is a lover, not a killer. But he is not, I repeat, not–my lover. I’m afraid you’re going to have to look elsewhere for your murderer.”

  “Sit down, Ms. Monroe,” Alex said mildly.

  Harriet ignored him. She was too upset to sit. She stalked around the stark office, fuming. “How could you even think that we would resort to murder–murder!–just because I needed to get Bradley out of my life? That’s the most . . . the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  She whirled around and pointed her finger at Alex again. “Ludicrous!”

  “Sit down, Ms. Monroe.”

  But Alex could see that Harriet had worked up a full head of steam and wasn’t listening to anything he had to say at the moment. As he had suspected the previous evening, her chin was set stubbornly.

  He sighed, crossed his arms over his chest, tilted his chair back, and put his feet up on his desk to watch the rant and wait for her to wind down.

  The tirade continued on for several more minutes before she began to sputter and run out of steam. “We are not your murderers.” Harriet stopped mid-stride. She hurried back to the chairs and took a seat.

  “Mr. Hayes,” she began, more calmly.

  “Alex.”

  “All right . . . Alex, but you must call me Harriet, not Ms. Monroe.”

  Alex cocked the eyebrow with the scar. “Not Harry?”

  Harriet hesitated, then scowled. “No. You just accused me of murder. I think Harriet is familiar enough under the circumstances.”

  “I only said that you and your friend Solomon were my only two suspects at the moment. That’s a long way from accusing you of murder. Harriet–”

  Harriet leaned forward on the chair seat and held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t you see? If Solly and I didn’t murder Bradley that means someone else on the island is the murderer. We have to find out who it is before the guests start arriving.”

  “We?” Alex took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “There is no “we,” Harriet. You leave the detecting to me.”

  He watched Harriet’s jaw firm again. She definitely had a stubborn streak, he thought, amused but also a little worried. The last thing he needed was an amateur sleuth mucking about in his murder case.

  “You haven’t exactly shown yourself to be much of an investigator up to this point,” Harriet pointed out. “I think you need all the help you can get.”

  All amusement left Alex’s face. His eyes turned cold.

  “I don’t need to show you my credentials, Ms. Monroe. But since you seem to have zero faith in my abilities I will tell you that I left the New York City Law Enforcement Department at the top of my
game. I was a senior Homicide Detective with one of the highest solve rates on the force.”

  And you can take that and stuff it in your bra, Alex added silently.

  It irked him that Harriet Monroe thought so little of his abilities. It didn’t occur to him to wonder why he should care what she thought of him.

  Harriet sat back in the chair. She realized that once again she had let her mouth get away from her and she’d said more than she should have. She took a deep breath and blew it out.

  “I apologize. I know Mr. Wade must have checked you out thoroughly or he wouldn’t have hired you. I really am sorry. I just–you rattled me when you accused me and Solly of murdering Bradley. No one’s ever accused me of anything so heinous before.”

  She waited.

  Alex continued with his hard-eyed stare for several long moments, then he blew out a loud breath as well and rubbed his hand over his head. Some hair pulled loose from his queue and he pulled off the thong he used to tie it back.

  Harriet watched, fascinated, as the thick, silky black hair curled slightly around his neck. Her fingers twitched involuntarily with the urge to feel that hair.

  “All right,” he finally said. “Let’s start over. I have a murder to solve in less than two days or we’ll have to cancel the first set of guests.”

  Alarm shot through Harriet. “Oh no, we can’t do that. That would be bad for the resort’s image.”

  “I can’t have strangers tramping all over the island and destroying possible clues or evidence.”

  “Okay, fine,” Harriet conceded. “I can see your point. That just means that you’ll need my help so we don’t have to cancel anyone’s reservations. Where do we start?”

  Alex started to argue, then closed his mouth. As Harriet was his best resource on the murdered man, he might as well use her.

  “We start with background. Tell me about Bradley Higgins. Is there anything in his personal or professional life that might drive someone to murder him?”

  “Well, I’m your best suspect if Bradley was killed for his personal life,” she said with a rueful laugh. “Bradley became obsessed with me after I moved in with him.”