He thought about the dead man’s puffy face and blotchy skin. He wasn’t sure if there were poisons that could cause that reaction, but he knew that a severe allergy could. It seemed strange that if the man had enemies they would wait until he was out of the country to attack when it would be so much easier to kill him before he left or after he returned. A much simpler explanation might be that he had succumbed to a food or insect allergy of some sort and hadn’t woken up from his nap to save himself with an injection.
Either way they had a lot more questions they needed to ask his widow. They finished searching his toiletries bag, but didn’t come up with anything else of significance. Her toiletries bag was filled with creams, lotions, and a couple small glass vials of perfume. Most of the items had labels that proclaimed them to be anti-aging breakthroughs. He shook his head in bewilderment. The woman out there was in her early thirties and she looked fantastic. Besides, there was nothing wrong with a few wrinkles. They gave a person’s face more character. What was wrong with her that she was so paranoid? He was very grateful that Traci wasn’t that way.
They had just finished up in the bathroom as a doctor was arriving to take possession of the body. Mark shared their findings with the man before he and the local officer made their way to the manager’s office.
The manager, the widow, the writer, and the other officer were all inside. Somehow it sounded like the start of a bad joke to him as he noted the occupants. With the way they were all positioned around the room, though, it felt like walking into some sort of Shakespearian tragedy halfway through the final act.
The widow was reclined on the couch with the manager kneeling next to her holding her hand. The writer, Elisa, was standing over the woman with her hand on the crown of her head. Across the room watching everyone was the officer.
When they entered Elisa looked up and caught his eyes. She glanced quickly down at the widow and then back up. He got the distinct impression she was trying to communicate something to him, but for the life of him he had no idea what that might be.
The thing that struck him most about the entire tableau, though, was the fact that the widow was stretched out on the sofa. In his experience most people suffering from grief or shock tended to curl their bodies up more, some all the way in the fetal position, but most just kind of hunched up, as if trying to protect their abdomens. Laying stretched out was more indicative of relaxation as it made the body more vulnerable. Sedation could produce that result as well, but he didn’t think she’d been given anything. Her eyes looked too alert.
To him all that pointed to the fact that she wasn’t nearly as grief stricken as she was letting on to be. It was possible she had not cared for her husband or that she was in some sort of severe denial about what had just happened.
“Nina, you’re sure you don’t know who was sending your husband the threatening letters?” Elisa asked.
The woman on the couch shook her head. “He wouldn’t tell me.”
“What did you find?” the policeman in the room asked Mark and the other officer.
“Not much,” the officer standing next to Mark said.
“Did your husband have any severe allergies?” Mark asked.
“Yes, he was allergic to peanuts,” Nina said. “How did you know?”
“We saw the epinephrine in his toiletry kit. It hadn’t been used.”
“Do, do you think his peanut allergy killed him?” she asked.
Mark shrugged. “The doctor will be able to say what killed him. The appearance of his face, though, is consistent with some kind of major allergic reaction.”
“So, this could all be an accident instead of a murder,” the one officer said.
“Something your restaurant served him killed him,” Nina said, sitting up quickly and glaring at the manager who stared at her with a shocked expression.
“But, that is impossible, madam,” he said.
“But it would be the simplest explanation,” the officer said, his face registering a look of relief. If that was the case, it would certainly make the entire investigation easier on everyone.
“But, I tell you, that could not have happened,” the manager protested.
“Liar!” Nina shrieked and lunged at him.
The man jumped backward, scrambling hastily to his feet. The officer next to Mark moved to restrain Nina.
“Everyone but the widow out!” the other policeman barked.
Mark didn’t need to be told twice. He was out the door in a moment followed closely by the manager and then a few seconds later by Elisa who didn’t look at all pleased at the turn of events.
Once they had moved a safe distance away the manager turned to Mark. “Please, you have to understand. It is quite impossible that we served him anything with peanuts in it.”
“So many products have peanuts or peanut oil in them,” Elisa said. “It’s hard to guard against everything. Did he tell the servers that he had a peanut allergy?”
He shook his head. “He didn’t have to. We all knew. He had contacted me months ago to discuss it in great detail. Our head chef went over every inch of that kitchen before he arrived to ensure that there was nothing that might harm him.”
“That’s a lot of effort to go through for one guest,” Mark noted.
The manager raised his eyebrows at him. “We take the health and well-being of our guests very seriously here. We have a very exclusive clientele and we pride ourselves on ninety-five percent repeat customers. We are here to serve and to cater to every whim and need.”
Mark had known Joseph had to have spent a lot of money on this vacation, but he was now starting to think that number might actually equal a small fortune. It was certainly the kind of vacation he and Traci would never be able to afford on their own which was just more motivation to get back to her and put this whole thing behind him.
“You’ll want to tell the police about that so if it comes back as death brought on by his peanut allergy they’ll know that this isn’t just a simple matter of an accident caused by your resort.”
“No matter how much Nina is going to want to blame you for it,” Elisa piped up.
The manager nodded gravely. “This could not have been our fault and if the blame is put on the resort, it will ruin us.”
“You said he talked to you months ago?” Mark said, remembering that Nina had said that the vacation had been a last-minute surprise.
“Yes. Like many of our clients he wanted to customize the experience.”
“What does that mean?” Mark asked.
“It means that they’ll be prepared to make some of your favorite meals, or provide you with the snacks and magazines you enjoy in your room, that kind of thing,” Elisa explained.
“For your room, the gentleman who paid for the vacation requested the highest degree of privacy, new bamboo fiber sheets which provide superior comfort, and a few other things.”
“Is that why those sheets are so amazingly soft? They’re made out of bamboo?” Mark asked.
The manager nodded.
He’d never even heard of such a thing. He found himself wishing, though, that those sheets could make their way into his suitcase when it came time to go home. There’s no way they would, but he could always dream.
“What kind of requests did Milt make?” Elisa asked.
“Aside from the food allergy requests, he asked for a lot of romantic touches, rose petals on the bed, that sort of thing.”
“Anything unusual?” Mark asked.
“There was one thing. When he first contacted me he insisted that a large flower arrangement of lilies be waiting in the room when they arrived because his lady loved lilies. He called just a couple of days before arrival and told me that the lilies had to be changed to violets. He insisted and said it was very important. We, of course, accommodated him.”
The manager glanced back toward his office. “If you’ll excuse me, I want to make sure I get a chance to explain to the police about the steps we took to keep peanuts ou
t of the kitchen.”
He turned and hurried back.
“Well?” Elisa asked Mark.
“There’s nothing left to do but wait,” he said. “The doctor will report his findings and then it’s up to the local police to figure out if there’s anything more to be done.”
She glanced around. There was no one in sight. “Could we talk privately?” she asked, her voice soft.
He nodded. “We’re probably okay here.”
She shook her head. “Come with me.”
Reluctantly he followed. He didn’t want to discuss Milt anymore. He just wanted to get back to Traci and the rest of his vacation. He was reasonably certain that Milt had died from his peanut allergy. Where or how he had gotten hold of peanuts he didn’t know. Fortunately that was not his problem to solve.
A minute later they were in a small, grotto like area which had a bench swing. Elisa sat down on it and began to swing it back and forth gently. He stood in front of her, wondering what more she wanted.
“What are you thinking?” she asked without preamble.
“Excuse me?”
“About the murder.”
“Well, for starters I’m not sure yet it is a murder,” Mark said. “This could have easily been just an unfortunate accident.”
“But you don’t really believe that, do you?” Elisa asked, her eyes practically twinkling.
“I’m reserving judgment until I see the doctor’s report. Or, rather, if I see the doctor’s report. Hopefully my involvement in this mess is over now and I can return to enjoying my vacation.”
“I’m just as eager to return to my vacation, but don’t we have a duty to see justice done here?”
He stared at her in amazement. Unlike him this woman had likely paid for her own vacation here. That coupled with what Traci had told him about the writer meant she was probably quite wealthy. Why was she getting involved in something like this? Idle curiosity?
“Why do you care?” he asked bluntly. “It’s not your job, your responsibility. You don’t know them. In fact, it’s really none of our business.”
She looked taken aback. “Mankind is our business. The common welfare is our business.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That sounds familiar. Are you quoting something?”
“Paraphrasing. It’s from A Christmas Carol. It’s what the ghost of Marley tells Scrooge.”
“Ah, and I’m Scrooge in this scenario?”
“Well, you certainly are being miserly with your gifts and skills. You could help solve this murder for the good of all.”
He sighed. “Fine. What do you want to discuss?”
“The widow, Nina, what do you make of her?” Elisa asked.
“Pretty, young, a bit on the dramatic side, but then again she has just lost her husband.”
“I think she lost him before they ever came on this trip.”
“What do you mean?”
“Given the differences in their age, I’d be willing to bet that she’s his second wife.”
“A trophy wife? I had figured pretty much the same.”
“And they’ve been married six years. That’s plenty of time for a man to lose interest and for a woman to start showing some signs of aging.”
Mark couldn’t help but think about all the skin care products meant to reverse aging he had found among her things. He shook his head. “That’s crazy. She looks young and pretty.”
“I’d be willing to bet back home there’s some twenty-four-year-old who looks younger and prettier.”
“You can’t know that,” Mark protested.
“Even if there isn’t, she might think there is. After all, if he did dump his first wife for her...”
“This is just speculation. For all we know his last wife died or Nina could be his first wife and he married late. Unless you have something more substantial, I think we’re jumping to conclusions.”
“Did you see the bikini she was barely wearing?” Elisa asked.
“Yes, and yes, it was small, but what does that prove? A lot of women like to show off.”
“Not many happily married women are willing to show that much skin. A bikini like that is meant as an attention getter which means she either wanted someone else’s attention or was worried that she was losing her husband’s.”
Mark was ready to walk away. The woman’s assumptions were so generalized and broad-sweeping as to be pretty much useless. “I suggest we let the local police handle this,” he said. “That way we can both get back to our vacations.”
He turned and started to go.
“You love your wife very much, don’t you?” Elisa called after him.
He paused, not liking the personal turn of the conversation. “Of course, why do you ask?”
“Your own feelings of love and loyalty to your wife make it hard for you to acknowledge trouble in other people’s relationships. Let me ask you this, though. When was the last time your wife wore something in public as provocative and revealing as that bikini?”
“Not since we were dating, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
Elisa smiled at him. “And what would you say tonight if she showed up at dinner in a skimpy little dress that left pretty much nothing to the imagination?”
“I would ask her why she was wearing it.”
“Exactly. Give what I’ve said some thought, Detective. I write romances which means I spend a lot of time thinking and analyzing how people in relationships interact with each other.”
He nodded and then left. Even when she was out of his line of sight, though, her words were still echoing around in his head. By the time he found Traci on the beach he sat down beside her with a sigh.
“Honey, would you wear a skimpy bikini for me?” he asked.
Her eyes grew wide. “You know I don’t like showing that much skin. Is there something wrong with the bikini I’m wearing? You’re not worried about how fat I’m going to get while I’m pregnant, are you? Was someone else wearing a bikini and you were wondering how I’d look in it?”
He held up a hand to stop the onslaught. “Whoa, sorry, it was a hypothetical question based on a conversation I just had.”
Traci took a deep breath. “Okay. Of course, if you really wanted me to, I’d wear it.”
“Good to know. Seriously, though, what would make you spontaneously wear something like that?”
She didn’t even hesitate before responding. “If I felt like you were ignoring me.”
“And what if you thought I was looking at another woman?”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I’d kill you.”
He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “That’s my girl.” He leaned forward and kissed her.
When he finally pulled away she was smiling serenely. “Remind me to threaten your life more often.”
“It’s a deal.”
He just sat for a moment, staring into her beautiful eyes. He really was the luckiest man in the entire world.
She put her hand on his arm. “So, what was all that about?”
He sighed and turned so he could lay on his side on the beach blanket. “Elisa is convinced that the trophy wife was afraid that her husband was going to leave her for a younger woman.”
“Trophy wife?” Traci asked.
“Oh, sorry. The dead guy’s wife is like half his age.”
“And I’m guessing she was wearing a really teeny, tiny bikini?”
“Pretty much.”
“And we’re sure she wasn’t the one looking to find someone new?”
“We’re not sure of anything at this point,” Mark said. “Not even what killed him, although I’m pretty sure it was his peanut allergy.”
“How tragic.”
“I know. It makes you grateful for what you have...and, really, don’t have. Tell you what, though, let’s put all that behind us before I start wishing that Geanie and Joseph were here and we were the ones in Paris.”
“Tahiti doesn’t exactly go well with their Phant
om of the Opera themed wedding,” Traci said with a smile.
Mark leaned in toward her. “I don’t know.” He thought of the love song from the musical and he softly began to sing, twisting the lyrics slightly. “No more talk of murder, forget that dead man there.”
“We’re safe, nothing can harm us,” Traci chimed in.
“Our embrace will warm and soothe us.”
He folded her into his arms and kissed her, right there on the beach for all the world to see.
Cindy was standing in the hall just outside of Lisa’s hotel room when Detective Sanders arrived. She looked harried and Cindy sympathized.
“So, you think someone has searched your future sister-in-law’s hotel room?”
“Yes, I do,” Cindy said.
“What makes you so sure?”
Cindy unlocked the door and shoved it open then stepped aside. Detective Sanders took one step inside and whistled. “Yup, that will about do it.” She pulled a couple of pairs of disposable latex gloves out of her pocket and handed one set to Cindy.
“Did you touch anything?” she asked as she put on her gloves.
“Only the door. The moment I saw this I left the room and called you from my brother’s room,” Cindy said as she wriggled her fingers into the gloves.
“Smart. Then again, I’m not surprised.”
“Why is that?”
“I did my homework. Turns out this isn’t your first dance. Sounds like you’ve been at the center of some pretty nasty cases.”
“Just unlucky that way, I guess,” Cindy said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Now, do you have any way of knowing what might be missing here, if anything?” Sanders asked as they stood looking around the room.
“Honestly, no. She just asked me to bring her jewelry and cell phone so those are the only things I would even know to look for.”
“Well, the cell phone’s over there,” the other woman said, pointing to the floor near one of the bedside tables. She walked over and picked it up.
“Lisa said she left it charging, so whoever searched her room must have unplugged it,” Cindy commented as she stepped closer.
Walk Through the Valley Page 12
