by Keyla Hunter
I remembered Barb from my early days at the resort. She was delicate, like a porcelain doll, except her cheeks had lost their color and her blue eyes their light. Her mousy brown hair was sparse, and her eyes were hollowed out, a striking contrast against her haggard face.
It was rumored that when she had first arrived with Doug as newlyweds, she was a stunner, giddy and fun loving. Then one summer it all changed. She had become withdrawn into her own world; a series of nervous breakdowns and institutionalizations had robbed her of her beauty and zest for life. To me she always looked like the walking dead. She was in her late forties, but the wrinkles that she had accumulated over the years had added twenty years.
She was meant to help her husband behind the bar, but often she’d stare into space twisting a white handkerchief with a delicate lace border in her hands. Otherwise, she would grab a bit of her wispy hair and twirl it around and around her index finger.
As I recall, it was a rare form of bone cancer that claimed her. Almost overnight her hair turned gray and her cheekbones hollowed out. She refused to fight it and six months ago she had passed.
Perhaps I should go back and talk to Doug. I stiffened at the thought. He had been upset when I questioned him this afternoon. If he was the one who had sent the text, there was no telling what he would do. I dared not go back to him, not yet anyway. I had to be positive that there was a connection between him and the deaths of the Walters before I approached him again.
The letterhead caught my eye. How had Barb got it? It had to be her friend Elaine. She worked at the spa. Perhaps she could shed more light on this. Yes, that’s what I would do. I would speak to Elaine tomorrow. I had done all that I could do for the day. Things would be better tomorrow. They always were.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was a restless night, and I had slept in short bursts. All kinds of scenarios played out in my semiconscious state. There was Bruno Burns who raced into the courtroom and shot the Walters, each of them in turn.
In another, Barb was in Frank’s arms, vibrant and vivacious, so unlike the jittery thing I remembered. Doug in a wide-brimmed cowboy hat rushed into the room. From the holster at his hip he drew a revolver and emptied the barrel. With his left hand, he drew another and fired again, double duelist style. Through the smoke he surveyed the mayhem and threw his head back and laughed like a rabid hyena. The cacophony jolted me awake. I hit the button on my alarm clock, ready for another day of madness.
I took a deep breath and staggered to the toilet. It felt like a herd of broncos were prancing through my head. I had fallen asleep in my clothes. As I looked in the mirror, a puffy face with dark circles around her eyes stared back at me. Overnight I had turned into a pumpkin.
I went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of ice-cold water. I took it back to the sink, poured it in, and splashed my face with it. It was an old trick that Andrea, my flat mate back in my college days, used. She was a Biology major and had a trick for everything. This one had something to do with the startle reflex. Well, whatever it was, it worked, and I felt more alert.
I removed the layers of goop that Nat had painstakingly applied and grabbed my favorite barely-visible gloss stick and dabbed my lips. I started to look more like myself now.
From inside the cupboard I got out a fresh uniform. I was glad that washing and ironing was provided for staff interacting with customers, complements of the resort laundry service. They were not really doing us any favors; it was a matter of maintaining their image. These were a part of the new initiatives spearheaded by Amanda, so when the resort got a makeover so did we.
Ready to go, I crammed a banana down my throat and washed it down with a glass of almond milk. I picked up my keys and was out the door.
My plan was to drive straight to the spa where Elaine worked. The resort was a twenty minute drive from my place. I pulled down the hood of my beat-up white Chrysler Le Baron 1994 model convertible. It was a beautiful day: blue skies, specks of white cloud, and warm sunshine. I smiled and basked in its splendor.
Ole Guzz had seen better days, and sometimes I wished that we had a car benefit that was as lavish as our uniforms. “Wishful thinking,” came a loud voice from the back of my head, which I could have sworn was my mother’s. I spun around in surprise.
The next thing I heard was an ear splitting honk and a violent scream. At the intersection, I had jumped a red and rammed into a metallic blue Porsche. My heart thumped so hard that my ribs ached. “You need to focus, Tracy Turner” came the irritating voice again. I jumped out of the car amidst blaring horns. The morning had not kicked off the way that I had hoped.
I parked my car in the executive lot and hopped out. I bent over the fender searching for evidence of my early morning run in. My car was ancient and had so many scratches and blows I couldn't tell one from another. The dent on the right was large, and I didn’t remember seeing it before. Sure enough there was electric blue transfer on it. I ran my fingers over it and sighed.
Lucky for me the man was on his way to a client meeting. He was not sure of what happened either, and he was in a hurry, so I was off the hook without much fuss.
I noticed a pair of dark blue felt slip-ons behind me and I looked up. Powder blue jeans, a casual white polo shirt, toned body, and sun-kissed arms ended in a pair of brown eyes that bore down on me. The sight of him made my heart skip a beat. I stood up in a rush.
“It’s you.” I uncreased my pants with my hands. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know that you probably had a fender bender this morning,” his eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth twitched.
“Ah, it’s nothing.” I shrugged.
“Are you sure?”
I was not sure if it was genuine concern or if he was mocking me. I changed the subject. “You’re in early.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you keeping tabs on what time I come in?”
I felt my ears burning. “It’s just that I thought you might be down at the police station or something.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He softly chuckled.
My voice rose. “I swear, that’s what I meant.”
“Okay, I believe you,” he said once again in the same laughing tone.
We walked side by side, he at a leisurely pace, but I had to take longer strides to keep up. “Lovely day,” I mumbled.
“Beats yesterday. Two bodies in one day.” He whistled. “It’s not a usual occurrence around these parts. I thought I had given up hunting for murderers and lowlifes when I joined this place.”
“So you were a police officer?” I looked up at his profile and wondered if it was all the excitement of the force that had given him the grays.
He slowed down to a snail’s pace now and his face grew serious. “About last night, Tracy…”
“Yes, what about it?” I swallowed hard as I remembered how humiliated I had felt.
“I was a little… a little harsh.” He looked down at my shoes.
“Oh?” My cheekbone twitched, and I was relieved that he was still studying my heels.
He stopped dead in his tracks and looked directly into my eyes. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry.”
I swallowed hard trying to force down the lump that had formed in my throat.
I perked up my eyebrows and forced a smile. “Okay. Is that it?” The words did not come out exactly as I had hoped; it was a tad too perky. I stole a quick glance at him but he seemed to be thinking, so I guess that he hadn’t noticed.
He cleared his throat. “I’m meeting with Millie to touch base on things. Will you join us?” He paused for a moment, waiting for my response.
“Yeah, sure.” I bit my lip and concealed a smile.
He nodded and his face broke out into a grin. “Meet me in my office at nine?”
“Sounds good. I’m on my way to the spa.” I pointed in that direction.
“For some R&R?” His eyes lit up mischievously.
I sighed d
eeply. “A girl can wish.”
He smiled broadly and saluted me. “See you then.”
The resort’s theme of water and light continued over to Eden. At the entrance date palms rose up into the open sky. Rock pools with smatterings of wild grasses peeked through smaller trees such as olive, fig, and peach, all laden with fruit.
Beyond the atrium was the reception area where it was cooler and the lighting receded. Piped flute music filled the air with an Oriental melody. Butter cream crushed silk fabric lined the internal walls, a smooth cocoon of luxurious comfort. Pin pricks of flickering light reminiscent of stars in a cloudless night sky punctuated the jet black ceilings.
The receptionist whose name tag indicated she was Amy Chow greeted me with a warm smile. “Have you got an appointment today?”
I smiled back. “No, no I haven’t.” A couple of treatments here and I’d be on food stamps in no time. “I’m here to meet Elaine Shafter. Is she here today?”
“Yes, is she expecting you?”
“No, but if she’s busy I can wait.”
“Elaine is with a client at the moment.” She pointed at one of the treatment rooms swaddled by a thick off-white cotton fabric fashioned in the style of an Arabian marquee. “Please take a seat.”
I sank into the Bedouin style seat and made myself comfortable between two oversized cushions, stretching my legs over a flat woven Persian rug. As I considered its intricate patterns, I looked out for the deliberate flaw in its weave. It was an old Middle Eastern superstition that a carpet maker should include a mistake in the work or incur God’s wrath, because they believed that only he was perfect.
It took some searching, but I spotted a five-legged horse just as Elaine saw her client out and made her way toward me. I jumped out of my seat. Her eyes were warm and cheery and she took my hands in hers.
“Tracy, it’s been so long. You haven’t been to see us in a while.”
“Work keeps me busy, Elaine. It’s good to see you. I hope you are well.”
“I am. What brings you here?”
“Elaine, I came to meet you to talk about Barb.”
“Dear, dear Barb. She was a good woman.”
“Elaine, I know that Barb had a relationship with Frank Walters.”
“What?” Her eyes grew wide. “She told you?”
“I found this among her things. I thought that you might know something about this.”
“Where did you get this?” Her body stiffened and her face grew dark.
“Doug,” I said simply.
“Doug told you?”
“Not exactly. I found it and thought that you might know something because it was on Eden letterhead.”
“So you thought I had something to do with it?”
“I know you were friends.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t know that I couldn’t use the paper.”
“I know you didn’t. It’s not about the paper. I thought that you would know about the letter. I know Barb trusted you.”
She pursed her lips and nodded her head from side to side. “Barb was… she was depressed, had been for many years. It was that Frank Walters. It was his fault. When she got pregnant, he promised to come back for her and marry her.”
“Uh-huh… go on.”
“Every year around this time he’d come back for the tournament and every year she’d wait and hope and nothing. I tried to help, show her that he was a scoundrel, but she wouldn’t believe me. He’d just ignore her.” As she spoke, her eyes filled with tears. “I watched her getting more and more depressed. She was slowly dying in here.” Her voice cracked, fists at her chest. “And the worst part, I couldn’t do anything for her.” She held her face in her hands.
“You tried, Elaine. You tried to tell her.” I patted her back. “Did Doug know?”
“I can’t say for sure, but he must have. He’s not smart in some ways, but he is no fool either. He looked after the boy well. She was always sick you see.”
I nodded.
“When she got cancer we knew the end was coming, not soon because it was not that type. Still, the end was coming, sooner for her than us.”
“Go on.”
“I gave her the paper and asked her to explain to Doug, so she’d pass easier without the guilt. You’ve got to take care of things down here to make peace with the man upstairs, you know. ”
“So, cancer got her in the end?”
“Heavens no, don’t you know the story?” She lowered her voice. “It was an overdose. It was ruled accidental. She had taken too many of her pills.”
“I didn’t know, probably happened when I went back home for the holidays.”
“Yes, it happened around Christmas. I know she’s in a better place now, God help her.”
“Can you tell me more about the letter?”
“She had begged me not to give it to him till she passed and when she did, I did exactly as she said and read him the letter after she was gone.”
“What did he say? Did he get angry?”
“He looked embarrassed. Can’t say he was angry. He made me promise not to tell the boy. He is a good father and was so good to her, Tracy. He loved her with all his heart.”
“And afterward?”
“He grieved, like any husband would. He loved the boy all the more. Never really understood that. He was not a very nice boy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The Mitchells, they had their problems, but they were good people. Helpful and down to earth.”
“And Mike?”
“He was always a loner, always sulking and brooding, with his nose in the air. Thought he was better than us. Was worse when he went to college. He didn’t move out but complained all the time about how the place was not good enough. Still Doug adored him; said he was the one he lived for.”
Do you think Doug killed Frank Walters?
“Oh Lord, no, Doug’s a big guy, but he’s a gentle soul. He couldn’t harm a fly. He’s a good man.”
“Elaine, promise me you won’t tell Doug about our conversation.”
“Of course Tracy, you have my word,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”
I glanced at my phone. It was time for my meeting with Brett. I turned back to thank her. She was perched over the reception counter with the receiver at her ear and shot a look at me and then turned away.
I was frustrated that I had learned nothing new from our conversation. Except perhaps that Elaine had been a good friend to Barb and that she seemed fond of Doug. She also vouched for him, but, could she have been covering up for him? She was quick to get on the telephone had she relayed our conversation to him?
She thought nothing of taking the paper from the spa. Could she be capable of something more? She seemed angry at Frank. What if she had planted the evidence that incriminated Ryan? After all, they worked together and it would have been easy to access his locker. I pushed the thought out of my head. I was being paranoid again.
When I found the letter last night I was confident that it would lead me to the killer. My finger pointed strongly toward Doug. Did he kill Katherine before he came up to the room? He did have plenty of time. What was he doing in her room? What was he looking for? What would have happened if he found me in the room?
Elaine was convinced that he was a good man, but there was something he was hiding. I was in a rut. Perhaps the way forward would be to come clean with Brett and Millie and tell them everything that happened last night. Brett had been sweet this morning, but how would Millie take it?
I needed to find out from Brett what last night’s investigation revealed. He was the head of security and should have some leads or know something more. If the conversation went in the right direction, I would share what I found out with him. I wouldn’t say anything to Millie. Maybe Brett would be able to see things in a new light. What was the old saying, two heads are better than one?
We rendezvoused at Brett’s office as planned and together we went to Nom Noms. It was
such a wonderful morning that for a moment I forgot the chaos of yesterday. It was nice walking side by side. I felt a sense of peace, and it felt right somehow.
“Here we are,” he said.
Floating in a fanciful daydream, I felt my face blush. He gave me a long look, as if he had read my thoughts and gave me a boyish grin.
“You look…”
“Yes?”
“Ah, there she is.” He waved at Millie across the room.
I pursed my lips. What was he about to say?
Millie sat at her usual spot in the café. Two bundles of newspapers were stacked on the buffet style seating next to her chair, the Florida Daily spread out in front of her.
When we came over she flicked the paper to the front page, the deaths of the Walters had made headlines, but Regency had not. There was only a passing mention of the resort. All credit to Millie who had been quick on her mental feet and worked her magic with the press last night.
She was pleased with the newspapers she had perused so far. Folding up the one she held, she placed it on one of the stacks. With a nod of her head, she beckoned us to sit down. She took a pristine white napkin off her lap and dabbed her lips.
She looked at me and then at Brett and back again at me. A wicked glint crossed her eyes, and she gave us a victorious smile.
“Tea, you two?”
“Black, two sugars,” he said.
“Nothing for me.”
“Blueberry muffin?”
“Uh-huh.”
She waved a waiter over and placed the order. We spoke in hushed tones. “When we met yesterday things were not as complicated as this. I thought that this would be an open and shut case, that the police would find the perpetrator quickly and this matter would somehow go away,” she began. “Now with Katherine’s death, everything is more complicated.”
“Do the police have any leads, Brett?”
“Nothing concrete.”
