Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 03 - Secrets at Sea

by Peggy Dulle

  “Popular woman,” I finished his sentence.

  “Yeah, that’s it. She was popular.” He handed me back the pictures, “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. I appreciate your taking a look at them.”

  Ramon stood, “Well, I better go fix the toilet in 213 before the people start screaming again.”

  “Thanks again, Ramon.”

  “No problem,” he turned to leave, then stopped. “What’s your name?”

  “Liza Wilcox.”

  Ramon reached over and we shook hands. He smiled, “Any child of William and Joyce is a friend of mine. Anything you need, dial 33 for housekeeping.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ramon left and I flipped through the pictures again. I stopped at each photo with my parents in it. My eyes welled and a single tear fell on the picture. I wiped it with my thumb. No more crying!

  I stood up. At least I had one name. It was a start. I put the pictures back into the envelope and walked back to the room. Tom was still asleep, so I took a long hot shower. It felt good to stand under the warm water and wash away the gloom I’d felt since talking to Ramon. I used one towel to dry my body and another on my hair. It was getting so long and almost impossible to manage. Tom liked my long wavy red hair, but someday I would surprise him and cut it all off.

  I bundled my hair into a pony tail and dressed in shorts and a tank top. It was quite warm in Long Beach. Hopefully, the weather in Mexico would be nice and warm too.

  When I came from the bathroom, Tom still slept soundly. I’d used all the towels for my shower and we’d need more for tomorrow morning. I could dial 33 and ask Ramon to bring me some more or I could just go and get them myself. I opted for walking back to the lobby.

  I opened the door quietly and slipped back out. When I got to the lobby Brenda was gone and Ramon sat behind the counter.

  “Hi, Liza.” He said as I came through the front door.

  “Good afternoon, Ramon.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I need more towels.”

  “No problem,” he dialed a number on the phone, asked for more towels to be brought to room 186 and then hung up.

  I waved at him and started toward the door.

  “Hey, wait a minute, Liza.”

  I turned, “Yes.”

  “One of the women in your parent’s group checked in a few minutes ago.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t have remembered her but after looking at the pictures with you, it reminded me.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Betsy Ruiz.”

  “Can you tell me what room she’s in?”

  “Sure, but last time I saw her she was heading for the pool.”

  “Great, thanks.” I opened the door and walked toward the pool. Was this the Betsy who was in the picture with my parents and Adam? And is it the same Adam who died during their cruise?

  When I opened the fence to the pool area, she looked over. She wore a once piece black swimsuit. She was around forty with a petite body and short brown hair. I smiled at her. She smiled back.

  I sat on the chair next to her. It was hard to contain my excitement. This woman knew my parents. She cruised with my parents.

  “Hello, Liza,” she said.

  My eyes widened, “How did you know me?”

  “You look just like your dad and,” she laughed, “sometimes your mother had long red hair, too.”

  I laughed. “She liked to change her hair style and color.”

  “She sure did. It was always the first surprise of the trip. But besides that, your mother always showed us your new school picture every year. You haven’t changed much in the last four years.” She reached over and squeezed my arm. “I’m so sorry about your parents.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t hear about it until six months after it happened or I would have come to their service.”

  I put my hand on hers, “It’s okay.”

  “Are you taking their cruise?” she asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “That’s wonderful, you’ll have a great time.”

  “Are you traveling by yourself?” It was the most subtle way I could think of to ask about Adam.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “This is my first cruise since my husband died.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I told her. “Was he part of the cruising group, too?”

  “No,” her eyes welled with tears.

  “I’m sorry. Did he just pass away?”

  “No, dear. It’s been almost four years. In fact, he died a few weeks before your parents. I haven’t cruised since, but this year I figured it was time to get back to something I used to love.”

  How do you ask a woman how her husband died? There wasn’t any delicate way, so I blundered on. “How’d he die?”

  “Adam ate something that disagreed with him and then he was allergic to the medication they gave him to settle his stomach.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I kept repeating myself but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “That’s okay,” she smiled, “I stopped crying a few years ago.

  “Was it his first cruise?”

  “No, his second. We actually met on the cruise the year before.” She shrugged. “He died on our honeymoon cruise.”

  Oh my. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “It’s okay,” she patted my arm. “Adam and I met on the first cruise and then reconnected six months later. We fell in love, got married and went on the cruise for our honeymoon. We had four glorious days together.”

  I didn’t want to repeat myself again, so I didn’t say anything.

  “In fact, your parents knew Adam better than I did.”

  “They did?” I asked.

  “Yes. They knew each other many years ago. A place where they lived before.”

  “Texas?”

  “Yes. He lived there before he moved to Arizona.”

  “I don’t remember much about Texas. We moved to California when I was three.”

  She nodded.

  “Ramon told me the last time my parents were here he found a dead body in a room.”

  “Oh yeah, it was horrible. We didn’t get any sleep that night, with all the cops in the building.”

  “Do you remember who it was?”

  “No. We heard it was a visitor to one of the guests in the inn.” She leaned closer to me, “I think it was a prostitute.”

  “She wasn’t visiting anybody in your group?”

  “Oh, no,” she shook her head. “We were all pretty sedate. I remember Adam had gone out to get some more towels. I’d taken a shower after swimming in the pool and we needed more for the morning.”

  “I took a shower earlier and had to get more towels, too.”

  “They never give you enough.”

  “So Adam went out to get towels,” I prodded.

  “Yes, and I took a short nap. When he came back he said the police were going into a room at the other end of the inn.”

  “Is that where Ramon found the woman?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “When we met for breakfast the next morning we vowed never stay in this hotel again.”

  “Why?”

  “A place that had dead bodies and prostitutes was not the place we wanted to spend the night.”

  “But you came back.”

  “I’m still sentimental about this place,” she shrugged and tried to smile.

  “Who else was in the cruising group?”

  “There was Carmelita. I always told your mom Carmelita was a professional escort, although, to her credit, she always chose men her own age. She had long bleached-blonde hair, boobs in a size triple-D, a teenager’s waist, and a new facelift each season.”

  “I’m surprised you and my parents socialized with her.”

  “Oh, honey. She was a kick and she didn’t take herself seriously at all.”

  “Who else?”

  She leaned back in the lounge chair,
“There was Norma and Donald Phillips, Melvin and Leslie Mitchell, your parents, Carmelita and her guest and myself. I usually brought a girlfriend until the last cruise, when Adam went with me.”

  Okay, I had the names but I needed to put them to the faces on the pictures. “I have some pictures from the cruises. If I brought them here, would you tell me who they are?”

  “Of course, I love looking at photos.”

  “Great.” I hurried back to my room. When I went though the door, Tom sat on the couch about a foot from the television set. It looked like a baseball game between the static.

  He smacked the set. “Come on.”

  “Having trouble with the TV?” I asked.

  “Stupid thing. All I want is the score to the game.”

  “The lobby has a bigger TV. Why don’t you go down and ask them to put it on?”

  “Good idea. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m finally tired. I think I’ll lie down for a few minutes.”

  He smiled, walked over and took the rubber band from my hair, “I could join you. I don’t really care about the game.”

  Oh great. I didn’t think Betsy would stay by the pool long. Tom stepped toward me. I put my hands up and smiled. “Go check the score, then come on back. I don’t want you thinking about the score instead of me.”

  “That would never happen, honey. Guys can’t multi-task when they’re in bed. We’ve only got one thing on our mind. Unlike you — half the time you’re working on your lesson plans when we’re in bed.”

  “I am not,” I said.

  He stared at me. I backed down.

  “Okay, so sometimes I am. But go and find out the score anyway. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  He looked toward the door and back at me. “Okay, I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  He left. I went to the window and watched him walk down the hallway and into the lobby. I grabbed my pictures and went back to the pool. I knew Tom. He’d get interested in the game. I had at least a few minutes before he’d remember me.

  Betsy still lay on the lounge chair by the pool. She didn’t look over when I went through the squeaky metal gate. She had probably fallen asleep waiting for me.

  But that wasn’t it at all. She had a small hole in the center of her forehead and her eyes were open. I heard someone screaming. It took me a few seconds to realize it was me!

  Chapter 5

  Tom came running through the gate; he had that little ankle gun out again. “What’s the matter?”

  I pointed to Betsy and buried my head in his chest. “She’s….’

  “Sh, Liza.” He smoothed out my hair.

  I felt him bend over, probably putting his little gun away or checking to see if Betsy was still alive. He pulled me from the pool area, shutting the gate behind him.

  My body shook. I couldn’t get it to stop.

  “Call 911,” Tom barked at someone.

  I lifted my head and saw Ramon stop, turn, and run back toward the lobby. I buried my head back in Tom’s chest. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first dead body I’d seen. But this woman, I had just spoken to. If Tom hadn’t been awake when I went back to the room, would I have returned here soon enough to see her killed? Or be killed myself? My body shivered.

  “It’s okay, Liza. I’m going to take you back to our room.”

  “But the police,” I started.

  “Yes, they’ll want to talk to you but they can do it in our room.”

  He turned me around, put his arm around my waist, and led me to our room. He set me down on the bed, “Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  “I want to meet the cops at the body.”

  When he said “body”, I shivered again.

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “If you want me to stay, I will.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I nodded. “I’m okay, Tom. Go ahead.”

  He grabbed his badge and left the room.

  As soon as he left, I realized I didn’t have the photographs anymore. I must have dropped them when I saw Betsy’s body. Great, now I would have to explain them to the police. And to Tom. I heard the sirens a few seconds later.

  When I looked out the window, I counted four police cars, an ambulance, fire truck, and two other vehicles with flashing lights. I quickly shut the shades and turned on the TV. The only station the stupid thing got was in Spanish. I left it on for the noise and paced the room, which wasn’t an easy task, since it was barely eight by eight. I’d have worn a path in the carpet if it wasn’t so shabby already.

  A few minutes later, I heard a knock at the door. Could the cops be here to talk to me already? I looked through the peephole. Brenda.

  I opened the door and she came in. She had black marks under her eyes, like she’d been crying and had rubbed her mascara.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Did you really find the body?” Her body shuddered.

  I nodded, “Yes.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible. Betsy was such a nice lady.”

  “You knew her? I thought you only had worked here for the last few months.”

  “I have, but before that I worked at the Carlton Inn downtown.”

  “Betsy stayed there?”

  “Yes. She used to come into town a lot and she always stayed there.” She leaned against the door.

  “Why’d she stay here this time?”

  “She said it was something about her husband. You know he died on a cruise.”

  “I heard that.” This woman might be a wealth of information, so I pulled Tom’s suitcase from the couch and indicated for her to sit down.

  When she sat down, I continued, “Why’d she come into town when she stayed at the Carlton?”

  “She works for a computer company. They installed new software in the computers at the Carlton. The stuff never worked right, so she always came down and worked on them.”

  “I think that’s how she met her husband,” Brenda continued, “on some job in Oklahoma. She installed the hotel software and he was there for a lawyer’s conference.”

  “Adam was a lawyer?”

  She shrugged, “I think so.”

  That was news. My dad had been a lawyer too. Is that how they knew Adam? Did they work together in Texas?

  “He cheated on her.” Brenda said as she stood, slid open the curtains and peered outside.

  “How do you know?”

  “He came into town a few times with her before they were married. She’d go into the office and work on the computers. She thought he was in the pool. But I saw him with a lady once.”

  “By the pool?”

  “No, in the hotel bar. When I went off duty, I saw them. She was tall, blonde and sleazy looking. Even as young as I am, I wear more clothes than she had on. I started over to tell him Betsy was almost finished but they got up and left together.” Brenda shook her head, “I never told Betsy.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Nope, they’re both dead. That’s weird — he died and now she’s dead.” Brenda reached for the doorknob. “Well, I better go.”

  After she left, I paced again. What did it mean, their both being dead? Was it a coincidence? Had he really cheated on her? And was it important?

  An hour later, Tom came into the room, two men following him. His face looked grim and angry. I’d seen the look before. It was when he was not in control.

  “Tom?”

  “These men are detectives from Long Beach’s Homicide Detail.” He nodded toward the first gentleman. “Detective Jack Ramirez,” then indicated the other one, “Detective Brad Hansen.”

  They both were dressed in dark suits rather than uniforms. Ramirez was taller, stockier, and Detective Hansen was short, thin, and very fair.

  Detective Ramirez stepped around Tom. “I just want to tell you that if you weren’t here with a cop, we’d be taking you down to the station for this interview.”

  Ah, good choice for the bad cop.
He even looked mean. Now, where was the good cop?

  “We understand you’re shaken up by what you’ve seen. But we really need some questions answered,” Detective Hansen said.

  Tom’s demeanor softened and he laughed. Both men looked at him. “Guys, her favorite show is Law and Order. She’s seen so much good cop, bad cop, she’s a pro at spotting it. Just ask her the questions.”

  Detective Ramirez frowned and pointed to the couch. “Have a seat.”

  I sat down. Tom leaned against the wall. Before I could say anything, he said, “I told them we are here on vacation and we’re leaving tomorrow on a cruise.”

  Detective Ramirez glared at Tom, “Not if I say you’re not. This professional courtesy doesn’t extend to her leaving the country.”

  Tom back stiffened and he glared at him. It was a pissing match and I wasn’t in the mood.

  “What do you want to know?” I said.

  Detective Hansen sat in the chair across from me. “Just tell us exactly what happened.”

  “I went into the pool area and found a woman with a hole in her head. I assumed she was dead. It would have been rude to call you if she wasn’t,” I said.

  Tom laughed again, Ramirez glared, and Hansen smiled.

  Hansen continued, “Okay, did you know the woman?”

  “Not really.” Well, it was the truth. I wasn’t sure exactly how much to say to them. I wished I had been able to talk to Tom first.

  Ramirez flipped open his notebook, “According to Ramon, you and he talked about the woman.”

  “Yes,” I said and gazed at him.

  “You didn’t know her but you asked about her?”

  “Well, it’s complicated,” I said.

  Ramirez glared at me, then to Hansen he said, “Let’s take her in.”

  Tom stepped off the wall. “Liza.”

  I looked at him. “Yes?”

  “This isn’t Gainesville or Clainsworth; tell the detectives what they want to know. Stop stalling.”

  Gainesville was Tom’s turf and Clainsworth was in Oregon. Tom had rescued me from that police department after they wanted to charge me with shooting my gun at some kids. But I didn’t want to tell these men about my parents, their cruising group, Adam’s death, or any of it. How much could I tell them without telling them the rest?