Dead Roots

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Well, we didn’t find them in her luggage, so they must be elsewhere. Why don’t you recruit your mother’s help in searching through the twelfth floor? It might bring back useful memories.”

  “Memories she’d prefer not to surface, you mean? Good idea, but not today. It’s been too traumatic for her.”

  “Then let’s go join your family. Talk to your relatives. Maybe something will slip out that will give us some insight.”

  Striding into the hallway, Marla pushed the button for the elevator. Various groans and creaks accompanied its ascent. “You don’t have to get involved,” she told Vail, feeling guilty for spoiling his weekend. “This is my family, and I can deal with it.”

  The look he gave her spoke volumes. “Your family is mine, now,” he said quietly.

  Her throat clogged with emotion. “Thanks, Dalton. I owe you for this. We’ll go away another time, just the two of us.”

  “Oh no, you’re not getting away with things so easily. Next time is your turn.”

  “Huh?” She pulled open the inner grating when the elevator door slid open.

  “Pam’s parents said they want to come for Christmas. They haven’t seen Brianna since her mother’s funeral. I couldn’t very well refuse them the right to see their granddaughter.” He grinned sheepishly while following her inside the lift. “It’ll be our first holiday season together. You won’t mind entertaining for them, will you?”

  Thunderstruck by his words, Marla could only swallow and shake her head. She’d hoped to avoid dealing with the December holidays, at least until they had a chance to discuss their respective traditions and what they would do to celebrate. Apparently, Dalton had decided for her. And of all things, to invite his dead wife’s parents to join them!

  She compressed her lips, unwilling to say something she might regret later. This didn’t bode well for their relationship if he made plans without consulting her first.

  Later, she confided in Anita, “I’m not even comfortable with the idea of putting up a Christmas tree,” as they strolled in the balmy evening toward the old barn that had been converted into a movie house. Her family had reserved the entire venue, and even the adults looked forward to watching the latest Harry Potter sequel again. Vail strode ahead, chatting with cousin Cynthia’s husband, Bruce.

  “I’ll admit he should have considered your feelings on the subject,” her mother said, walking with a slump that told Marla she hadn’t quite recovered from the shock of Polly’s death. “What does he expect you to do, provide Christmas dinner?”

  “Hanukkah falls on the same week. I thought I would do the menorah lighting at his house. We could still exchange gifts.”

  “You’ll have to work out the details. Let him know your expectations may be different than his. The man probably just needs more education about Judaism.”

  “I suppose so. It’ll be even more difficult with Pam’s parents being there. I really don’t like that idea.”

  “Brianna has the right to see her grandparents. You can’t erase them from her life, bubula.”

  “I know.” Marla tripped on a rock jutting from the sandy path. Recovering her balance, she contemplated how her path through life had likewise suddenly become more rocky.

  Her younger cousin Rochelle was hanging about the theater’s entrance with her pals. When she spotted Vail, the teen led her entourage in his direction. Her slim hips swayed in a pair of jeans so tight that Marla wondered how she sat down.

  “Hello, Detective. We were hoping you could tell us what’s going down.” An eager smile lit her youthful face.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not following you.” Vail’s shoulders hunched, his sign of tension.

  “I noticed you spent an awful lot of time in Polly’s room today. Didn’t she die in her sleep?”

  Vail gave Marla a startled glance. Since when was the girl keeping watch on their movements? True, it must have appeared peculiar that they’d gone into Polly’s room and vanished for hours. In the time it took to explore the passages and then retrace their steps, the fireplace panel had opened without a hitch. They had emerged back into her aunt’s bedroom so easily that Marla doubted they’d ever been locked out. Or maybe the locking mechanism had been jammed. Accidentally? Or on purpose, by a human hand, or by a ghost who wanted them to find the thirteenth floor?

  “It’s a blessing when an old person dies peacefully,” Vail told Rochelle, hedging around the truth. “Right, Uncle Moishe? Marla hoped you could tell us what it was like to live here.”

  Oh, so now he was putting words in her mouth. Marla bit back a retort and gave her uncle what she trusted looked like a demure smile. “You were born after the hotel was built, right?”

  Moishe nodded. Beside him stood his wife, Selma, her hooked nose and garish clothing reminding Marla of a brightly colored parakeet. “I was born in 1930, so I never got to live in Planter’s House. Polly spent a few years there before Papa moved the family into the hotel. We had rooms on the top floor. Those were the grand old days, when we had the run of the place and the help treated us like royalty.”

  “Are you reminiscing again?” Moishe’s eldest daughter, Rachel, bounded into view with her sisters. “I leave you alone for just a few minutes and already you’re telling tales.”

  These kids wanted to know what it was like to live at the resort. Shall I tell you how Mama made gefilte fish in the bathtub?”

  “No, that’s okay,” Marla said hastily. “Did you, uh, notice how the tower elevator goes from the twelfth to the fourteenth floor?”

  “Papa said that was because guests might be superstitious. Ain’t that right, William?” He nodded at his younger brother, accompanied by three chattering daughters and their families.

  William, with a harried expression, replied, This place always had its share of ghosts and ghoulies. Papa didn’t need no people refusing to stay on a thirteenth floor. Folks are too stupid to realize it’s the same no matter what number you call it.”

  “Yet was there actually a real level sandwiched between the two top ones?” Marla persisted.

  “Bistu meshugeh? You’re letting your imagination run away with you, girl.”

  “I wonder,” Anita said, a pensive look on her face. “Polly once told me about…Nah, it’s nothing.”

  “What?” Before she could press her mother for answers, they arrived at the converted barn.

  They shuffled into the theater amid a mad rush for seats. The gaggle of teenagers sat up front while adults vied for seating away from their hooting laughter. Rochelle held herself aloof from the pack and managed instead to obtain a place on Vail’s left side.

  “So, Lieutenant, do you get to the movies often? I’ve always wondered what police officers did in their spare time. Do you, like, patrol shopping malls?”

  Vail rolled his eyes. “Actually, my daughter and I—Brianna is almost your age—we go to parks. We like to look at the foliage and play a game identifying the trees.”

  “That sucks. Marla, is that all you guys do for fun?”

  Marla pursed her lips. “I’ve never gone for walks with them,” she said tautly. Brianna had told her not so long ago of the things she and Vail had done when his wife was alive. Now Marla felt even more closed out of his life. He’d never asked her to take a stroll in the park. Maybe she needed to take the initiative and schedule some excursions herself.

  Just then the lights in the movie theater flickered and went out. Silence descended with an expectant hush. Someone coughed. Marla shifted in her seat to watch the screen, but it remained blank. When the film still didn’t come on, she realized something might be wrong.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Don’t be frightened,” Champagne Glass’s effervescent voice rang out as Marla’s eyes adjusted to the dark. “It’s only a short circuit. We’ll have it fixed momentarily.”

  The social events coordinator flounced up the aisle, dimly illuminated by emergency lighting. She wore her golden hair in a frothy swirl atop her head. In khakis and a tu
cked-in cotton blouse, all she needed was a whistle on a lanyard to complete her impression as a camp leader. Her manner oozed confidence as she reassured the theater occupants.

  Marla felt the years receding. Her muscles eased, as she succumbed to feeling like a teen tour groupie.

  “This should give you a taste for what we’ll experience tomorrow night,” Champagne said, pausing by Marla’s seat. “I hope you’re all planning to come to our marvelous campfire. We’ll be toasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories.”

  “Are you inviting Dr. Spector?” Marla asked in a dry tone.

  Champagne gave her a sweet smile. “I’m afraid he’s here on business, sugar. Nighttime is when his people do their best work. He’ll be too busy to engage in tall tales.”

  “Dalton and I met a few spooks today up in the tower. Spector might be interested in hearing about them.”

  “I don’t think so. His research is confined to Oleander Hall and the sugar mill ruins.” Lifting her chin, Champagne turned her attention to the assembly. “Let me remind you what we have on track for Friday, folks. In the morning, you’ll have your choice of a tennis tournament or a Nature Center tour. Join us for a divine picnic lunch on the beach with shelling. We get some pretty big specimens here, you know. Then relax until dinner when we’ll have our fabulous poolside luau. Later on, our campfire starts at ten o’clock for you night owls.”

  Her poise faltered when the movie screen flickered on. “Here we go. Enjoy the film.” She left as quickly as she had arrived, no doubt rushing to another group to remind them about the next day’s activities.

  Marla pushed aside her concerns to focus on the movie. Vail’s hand clasped hers, and she found it soothing to lose herself in the story of wizards, magic spells, and flying broomsticks.

  When Friday morning rolled around, Harry Potter’s adventures drifted through Marla’s mind as she lazed in bed. Instead of traipsing along on some group tour, she’d rather investigate the strange events at the resort, just as Potter did at Hogwarts. Nonetheless, hoping that she could learn more about Vail’s various interests, she suggested to him that they join the excursion to the Nature Center.

  Lying beside her and wearing nothing more than his boxers, he grinned as he traced her mouth with his finger. “I’m more tempted to stay here with you, sugar,” he said, imitating Champagne Glass on the last word.

  Marla grimaced. That woman is a total fake.”

  “I agree, but I think she puts on the schmaltz for the guests’ benefit.” His hand sloped downward, melting away her ambitions for the day.

  “I don’t trust her. When I mentioned we’d seen ghosts in the tower, she cut me off. She knows something.”

  Vail’s manner changed abrupdy. “Let’s get dressed and catch a quick breakfast. There are a lot of people we need to see today. You wanted to pay another visit to Seto Mulch, and I’ll ask the manager about the thirteenth floor.”

  “We have plenty of time. I know you’d like to walk through the woods. You can start educating me about some of those trees.” She hoped her coaxing tone didn’t betray her anxiety over his response.

  “Later. It’s a good opportunity for us to question the staff while your relatives aren’t underfoot.”

  Bouncing to her feet, Marla tugged her silk nightgown into place. “I’m sorry if they irritate you.”

  That’s not what I meant.” Standing, he grasped her shoulders and pulled her close. “It’s hard for me to ignore my instinct to chase bad guys. Maybe I should just stick to the devoted-fiancé role.” As he rubbed his body against hers, his motion gave a different meaning to the word hard.

  “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable around my family.” Like I’ll feel around yours.

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Although if Rochelle asks me another question, I might arrest her for harassment.”

  They headed for the Ail-American Bar and Grill inside the main building. While the hostess greeted them, Marla spotted Champagne sipping orange juice at a table with a large woman who wore a red kerchief around her head. Was she imagining things, or did the woman bear an uncanny resemblance to the nurse’s aide who’d cared for Aunt Polly? Her nose and complexion were different but those things could be altered with prosthetics and makeup.

  “Good morning,” Marla called, bustling over before the hostess seated them. “We enjoyed the movie last night,” she told Champagne, whose face looked uncharacteristically drawn.

  “I’m so glad.” Her voice came out hoarse, unlike her usual gushy tone, and she swiped a hand at her cheek. Had she been crying? When Marla stood her ground, Champagne waved a flaccid hand toward her companion. “Marla Shore, allow me to introduce Wanda Beake. And this is Marla’s, uh…”

  “Fiancé,” Vail supplied, joining them.

  “We’re very fortunate to have Wanda here,” Champagne said with a weak smile. “She’ll be conducting the nature tour at nine o’clock. Wanda is just back from her latest bird-watching trip to Ecuador, so her insights are amazing.” Champagne squared her shoulders as though to register her enthusiasm.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said the birdwatcher in a singsong voice that sounded nothing like the nursing aide’s raspy tone. A pair of expensive binoculars hung around her neck. “I got in late last night. Those long flights are such a drag. I’m so grateful the hotel sent Mr. Lyle to pick me up. I’d never find this place driving in the dark. Would you believe it’s my favorite resort, and I’ve traveled all around the world? You guys been here before?”

  “This is our first time.” Marla gave her an oblique glance. “I’m surprised you’d take another vacation so soon after coming back from South America. I’d be exhausted.”

  Wanda’s laughter trilled. “Who’s in a rush to get home? After hiking through the wilds of the jungle, I need a little pampering. My bills and junk mail can wait. Besides, this is the perfect time of year to catch the migratory birds in Florida. We’ll be spotting some colorful ones today. I hope you’re planning to attend.”

  “They’d probably rather run off to the beach, wouldn’t you?” Champagne said with a barely perceptible shake of her head.

  “Now, dearies, you’ll have plenty of time for that later. I’ll look for you at nine.” Wanda gave Champagne a pointed stare.

  The social director’s lower lip quivered. “She’s an excellent guide and very well versed in our ecology. It’ll be a super tour. You simply can’t miss it.”

  “We’ll be there,” Marla cut in, shooting Vail a warning look when he opened his mouth.

  “I’d prefer not to join any of the planned activities,” he growled as soon as the hostess seated them.

  Marla held her reply until the waiter had taken their orders. “That woman reminds me of the aide who showed up at Polly’s room. Did you notice her complexion? It’s fairly pale, like she hasn’t been out in the sun. Anyone traipsing through a rain forest is gonna get tanned.”

  “Not if she wears a hat, or it rains a lot.”

  “Champagne looked visibly upset. I’d never seen her so rattled before. I got the impression she didn’t want us to take the tour. That makes me even more curious.”

  He sat back and regarded her lazily. “Do I have to go with you?”

  She choked and grabbed for her water glass. “Of course, you do. You’re the one who likes nature stuff.”

  “Oh, and you don’t?”

  Her hand gripped the goblet tighter. “You and Brianna go to parks all the time. You’ve never asked me along. Is that an exclusive event, or am I invited? Pam used to go with you.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “I don’t believe it. You’re jealous.”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  His mouth expanded into a soft smile. “You’re welcome to come with us anywhere, hon. I figured you were too busy to spend time at Secret Woods.”

  “I’m never too busy where you’re concerned.” Liar. Did she really want to get hooked into family excursions? Next they’d be taking road trips, which wo
uldn’t be much fun if they had to share a room with his teenage daughter. She lowered her lashes so he couldn’t read her expression. Sorting through her feelings took too much energy.

  Inevitably, Vail chose to accompany her on the tour anyway. Her mood lifted when she spied Cynthia and Bruce at the entrance to the nature trail. They had their kids along, Annie and Kelp. Her parents being ocean conservationists, Annie’s full name was Anemone. The young adults jostled each other past the gate. Wanda Beake waited on the other side.

  “Welcome to our guided tour,” Wanda called. About two dozen other people, including some of Marla’s distant clan members, ranged before her. “This morning, you’ll have the opportunity to view four of our ecological communities: a hammock, savannah, dunes, and the shoreline. Each has its own vegetation and wildlife. Please remain on the boardwalk until we reach the beach. Leave nothing behind, and take nothing with you.”

  As the bird-watcher led them into the hardwood forest, Marla caught up to Cynthia. Her cousin wore an attractive crimson and black printed blouse with black slacks, appropriate for the cooler morning air. She and her husband owned an estate that fronted a mangrove preserve in eastern Fort Lauderdale. Marla figured they would want to explore the park.

  “Did your mother ever talk about this resort?” Marla said to Cynthia. “I’m amazed no one in the family seemed to know about it before.”

  “I’d heard nothing until Aunt Polly called regarding the reunion.” Cynthia’s blue eyes skimmed Marla’s ebony ensemble, a short-sleeved knit top that zipped up the front with matching sweat pants. “Mom told me stories about how Ruth celebrated the Sabbath. Grandmother plucked the feathers off chickens destined for the oven and made challah from scratch. I wish I’d known her. She died five years before I was born.”

  Marla bypassed a dried coconut in their path. The trail consisted of packed earth made spongy underfoot by a layer of dead pine needles and leaves. Pink bromeliads bloomed in a cluster just inside the entrance. As they followed a wooden arrow pointing the way, she brushed past a sea grape tree with broad, round leaves. It stood next to a weeping bottlebrush, its branches hanging gracefully like a willow. The cool air was redolent of humus.