Death in a Beach Chair (7 page)

TWELVE

Susan had hoped to speak with Kathleen, to assure her friend that she wasn’t alone, to start the investigation that would free Jerry from whatever hellhole the local police had locked him in. But she returned to her cottage to discover a note from Jed explaining—complaining—that he had not been able to find her, and as Kathleen had been given permission to see Jerry and hadn’t wanted to go alone, he had been forced to leave without talking with his wife. Susan, reading his message, realized he had been upset when he wrote it. Well, there was nothing she could do about that now, she decided, folding and putting it in the pocket of her shorts. She turned to leave the cottage and wondered what, if anything, she could—or should—do now.

She heard a knock on the door behind her and turned, hoping whoever was there would provide a solution to her problem. The worried expression on her face morphed into a smile when she recognized James.

“Mrs. Henshaw, your party signed up for kayaks today. I didn’t want to change your reservations or offer my boats to anyone else until I was sure you wouldn’t be wanting them. I—” He stopped and looked embarrassed. “I can’t say I know what to do in this situation.”

“Never had anyone die here before?” Susan asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, no, ma’am. We’ve had people die here. But not killed . . . except by love. Once.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, a few months ago this old guy came here. He must have been over fifty and he’d just gotten married to this young girl. Well, they scuba dived, kayaked, swam, ate and drank, and . . . and did what couples do on their honeymoon. And he was dead in less than twenty-four hours after check-in. Heart failure. He was too old to keep up with her. She should have married a young buck. At least, that’s what Lila said at the time. And he was not the only one,” James hurried on, possibly afraid he had offended her.

“Who else died?” Susan asked.

“Just a few months ago a woman stepped on something on the beach. No one ever really knew what, although her husband said it was some sort of jellyfish. Anyway, she had some sort of horrible allergic reaction, went into some sort of shock.”

“Anaphylactic shock,” Susan suggested.

“Maybe. All I know is she was dead before anyone could call a doctor. Scared the hell out of me. It was in all the papers. Perhaps you saw it up north? I know Lila was worried about bad publicity hurting us.”

“I didn’t see anything. Anyway, an allergic reaction is individual. Most people aren’t allergic to the same things. But is there anything else deadly around here? On the beach?”

“Well, many people step on black urchins. Happens more than you’d think. Their feet swell up something awful and they have a whole lot of pain for a day or two.”

“And then they die?” Susan asked.

“Nah, they get better. It’s no biggie. We can warn people, but we can’t get them to listen. We had a guy here from Maine last winter. He said he knew all about urchins—used to go out in the cove in front of his house, pick them up, smash them, and serve them over homemade pasta. Sounded disgusting to me, not that anyone asked. Anyway, we took out the kayaks, paddled over to a beach just south of here, and got out for a walk. Don’t say I didn’t warn him.”

“He stepped on one?” Susan guessed.

“Nope, two. But one at a time. Stepped on one with one foot and jumped up and stepped right onto another with the other foot. Who woulda thought it could happen like that? Both feet swelled up like pillows by the time we got back here. Last I saw of him, he was getting into a taxi, saying he’d be real glad to get back to the frozen north.”

“But no one else has been murdered here?” Susan asked.

“Not that I know of, but, I tell you, I only been here for three years. Things could have happened before I got here.” James shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Susan realized he was anxious to be on his way.

“You know, I’d enjoy going out in one of the kayaks again. Everyone else seems to be gone for a while.”

“Yeah, your husband and your friend went in to town to see that man who was arrested—at least, that’s what I heard,” James added quickly. “So you could paddle around for a bit on your own. Don’t go out too far. You be perfectly safe.”

“I don’t think I want to go out in the ocean alone,” Susan answered slowly. “But if you have the time, maybe we could go out together—just for a bit?”

James frowned and then glanced back over his shoulder. “I guess I could—just for a bit—but I gotta make sure I’m not needed here and—and all.”

“That would be fantastic. I’ll grab some sunscreen and be right with you. I don’t want to be gone long either, but it would be great to get away—just for a bit.” Susan repeated the phrase they seemed to have agreed on. She wasn’t actually interested in getting away alone. But Ro had said James was on the beach last night. He might have seen something that related to Allison’s murder. Susan grabbed a tube of sunscreen and dabbed a bit on her nose as she left the cottage.

James was standing just outside the open doorway of the gift shop, apparently talking to someone inside. Susan called out his name, and he turned and waved, a big smile on his face. “You go on down, ma’am. I come down presently.”

Susan waved, turned, and discovered herself face-to-face with a woman whose resemblance to a tubby Buddha was emphasized by the white flowing beach dress she wore.

“My dear, my husband and I have been looking for you. What a dreadful thing to happen. I was just telling Martin, this will just ruin your vacation.”

“It certainly isn’t improving it,” Susan admitted.

“This seems to be the morning for husbands and wives to get separated. Your husband was looking all over the place for you, too. Just a few minutes ago. And your friend, too. How sad it is that her husband was arrested. She looked distraught the last time I saw her, and I can’t say I blame her one bit. It’s bad enough when your husband falls for someone else on vacation, but to kill someone . . .”

“Jerry did not fall for Allison. They’ve . . .” She paused and decided not to say anything more than necessary. “They’ve known each other for years and years. And he certainly didn’t kill her. They—they’ve always gotten along well.” She paused for a minute, knowing that wasn’t true. Hadn’t June once told her that it was so much easier to celebrate the holidays at the Henshaws’ because everyone was much more polite when there were no family members present? At the time, Susan had assumed she was talking about the children. Certainly she was more confident that Chad and Chrissy would mind their manners at someone else’s home. But was it possible that June had meant the adults? Had Allison and Jerry gotten along? She noticed that the other woman was staring at her curiously.

“I’m sure this is all going to turn out to be a huge mistake and everything will be fine,” Susan insisted. “In fact, I’m so sure everything is going to be fine that I am going to go kayaking until everyone returns.” She hoped the smile on her face didn’t look as forced as it felt.

“Why, you brave thing! Why don’t my husband and I go along with you? We can keep you from becoming depressed. Let me just go find Martin. That man can vanish more quickly than anyone I know. My name’s Joann. I’ll just see if I can find my husband . . . but you call on me if you need anything. Anything at all.” Joann turned and moved away remarkably quickly for someone her size.

Susan took a deep breath and hurried down the steps to the beach where the kayaks waited. James was nowhere to be seen. She paced back and forth, watching out for anything with spines or gelatinous substances. Who would have suspected these gorgeous beaches could be dangerous—or even lethal? On the other hand, who would have imagined going on vacation and becoming a suspect in a murder investigation? She sat down on an upturned kayak and looked around. The stone wall behind her blocked her view of the resort’s buildings, so she turned and looked out to sea—and realized she had a sensational view of the spot where Allison had been found.

A Compass Bay beach towel was still draped across the lounge. Instead of the yellow police-line do-not-cross tape that would have been wound around the area in the States, here a bright red rope strung across the middle of the pier prevented the curious from getting too close to the crime scene. On the other hand . . .

As she watched, a head popped up out of the surf, looked around, and apparently spying her, ducked back down.

Susan jumped up and ran across the few feet to the water and waded in, trying to keep an eye on the underwater swimmer, but he—she was pretty sure it was a he—was impossible to spy beneath the lambent sunlight on the water.

“See something interesting, Mrs. Henshaw?”

Susan looked up and over her shoulder and discovered James striding down the stairs to the beach.

“Someone—there’s someone swimming out there—underwater.”

“Snorkeling?”

“Excuse me?”

“One of the guests snorkeling?” He paused in his descent and, shading his eyes with one hand, peered out to sea.

“Yes. I guess that’s who it was. I was surprised by how long whoever it was remained underwater.”

“Probably someone snorkeling and you didn’t see the tip of the snorkel above the water,” James said, putting down his hand and turning to Susan. “Good news. The Robbinses are going to kayak with us. The more people we have, the more fun we have,” he added without much enthusiasm.

“Can she—I mean—” Susan was too much of a lady to ask the question.

“Many of our larger guests do just fine on the sea kayaks,” James said, answering the question she hadn’t asked.

“I know the kayaks aren’t as unsteady as they appear. But I still have trouble getting on and off,” Susan said, chatting as though nothing untoward had happened. She was still staring out at the sea. “How long can someone stay underwater when they’re snorkeling?”

“All day if they’re good. You don’t want to get water in the snorkel. Or in your eye mask, of course. You never tried to do it?”

“No.”

“You try. You might like it. Many of our guests like it. Oh, here are our companions all ready to go out to sea.”

“Yes. We’re ready!” Joann agreed, making her way slowly down the steep steps.

“Some of us are readier than others of us,” her husband said, trailing behind.

Joann threw him an angry look over her shoulder. “We’re here to have fun. We’re here to experience new things. There’s no reason we shouldn’t go kayaking.”

Martin Robbins flushed. “I don’t think I said anything to imply that I wasn’t going along.” His pale blue eyes glanced up at Susan for a moment before looking down at the boats.

Susan suddenly realized that Martin must have been exceptionally good-looking when he was young. He still seemed to be in excellent shape—tall and athletic. The contrast with his wife made her look even dumpier. Susan wondered what had brought them together when they were younger. Had she been thinner, less demanding, less annoying? Had he been the dominant partner in their relationship in the early years? She sighed. There was no time to speculate about such things now.

“Mrs. Henshaw, do you want to use the same kayak you used yesterday?” James asked, pushing the red plastic crescent toward her.

“I guess.”

“And I’d like that yellow one over there,” Joann spoke up. “Martin, you take the blue one.”

Susan couldn’t help hoping Joann would get soaked while trying to board her kayak, but, in yet another example of the lack of justice in the world, Joann slid onto her kayak without even mussing her hair. Martin, benefiting no doubt from the long list of instructions his wife offered, followed suit. The dunking that Susan got almost made her forget why she had suggested this activity in the first place.

James waited patiently for her to right herself, regain her balance, and begin paddling. Then he jumped into the last kayak and began to paddle. “Where do we go?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Susan answered honestly.

THIRTEEN

Susan’s experience in touring kayaks was once again not helping her to get the hang of the little sea kayak on which she was perched. She was having so much trouble, in fact, that she was forced to accept James’s offer to travel by her side.

Joann smirked and Martin looked concerned, but Susan had gotten what she wanted—the opportunity to talk with James in relative privacy.

“I heard you were walking on the beach last night.” She jumped right in, not knowing how long Joann would be content to bounce around on the waves, displaying a surprising skill in this sport.

“Ah, you know about that, do you? I am courting a lovely young lady who works in the kitchen. Her parents are very old-fashioned. They think I’m unsuitable for some reason.” James offered his most charming smile, and Susan could understand why a young woman’s parents would worry if their daughter was interested in him. “So we spend time together here when we can,” he continued. “The staff isn’t really supposed to be using the beach,” he added, lowering his voice. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention seeing me to Lila.”

“I’d never do that,” she assured him. “I mean, you have a right to your privacy. I’d imagine the beach was pretty deserted yesterday evening, wasn’t it?”

“No, ma’am! Cottages are all full this week. At least, they were until three emptied out this morning. But, still, there are few places where a man and his girl can be alone.”

“Did someone interrupt you yesterday?” Susan asked.

“We are always interrupted. You all okay?” he called out as the Robbinses steered their kayaks to the east.

“We want to see that large coral reef we’ve heard so much about,” Joann called back. “Just follow us.”

James looked over at Susan and shrugged. “That one, she likes to have her own way.”

“She seems to get it, too,” Susan muttered, guiding her kayak toward the east. She looked down into the water at a row of sand dollars lying in a line on the floor of the sea. “It’s amazing how close everything looks,” she said, momentarily distracted.

James chuckled. “It is close. Tide is low. Water not more than one, one and a half meters deep here.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No. Course, tide coming in. Soon it will be much deeper.”

Susan paddled along, considering whether or not this might have any bearing on the murder. “Can a person walk—wade—to the gazebo when the tide is low?”

“A tall person, yes. The water is maybe five meters at low tide this time of year. Later, in the summer, it is less. There is a blackboard in the bar. There, low tide and high tide are listed. The person who tends bar makes daily change.”

“That’s good to know.” Susan thought about this for a moment.

“You are wondering if someone walked out to pier and kill that woman,” James said.

“I was thinking of that, yes. Do you think it’s possible?”

“Not last night. Last night tide was high. Killer either walk on pier or swim.”

“Or kayak,” Susan suggested.

“Not kayak. Not in one of my kayaks. They are locked up when sun go down.”

“Why? Are you afraid someone will steal them?”

“No. Kayaks used to spend the night up by gift shop. They were leaned against walls. No one thought anything about it. Then one night some guests got drunk, took two kayaks, and drifted out to sea. They were rescued by U.S. Coast Guard the next day. Suffered sunburn and nothing else. Damn lucky they didn’t drown. One man was a lawyer. He threatened to sue. Said kayaks should be locked up. So now we lock them up. Can’t let stupid people do stupid things.”

“Where?”

“In lockers. Behind gift shop. There’s lots of things locked up behind the gift shop.”

Susan frowned. They didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. “How well did you know Allison—the woman who was killed?”

“I do not fraternize with guests. It is a rule.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything like that,” Susan assured him. “I just was wondering if she talked to you about anything—anything that might help my friend.”

“Yes, of course you must help your friend,” James agreed. “Many people here—we worry about your friend.”

“Then you’ll help me?” Susan asked, relieved.

“How can I help you? I don’t know what you want.”

Susan could hear the hesitation in his voice. “I need two things. I need to know who you saw on the beach yesterday. They may have had nothing to do with the murder, but anyone who was there might have seen something. And I need to know if anyone on the staff saw something—or was told something—that might give me a clue to what really happened.”

James didn’t respond for a few minutes.

“I’ve investigated murders before,” Susan explained.

“Yes. But the staff here has not been involved in anything like this until this. And this is good place to work. People who work here want to keep working here. These people, they are my friends, my family.”

“Of course. I understand. That’s a nice way to feel. Do you think—maybe I should talk to Lila and she could assure everyone that their jobs aren’t in jeopardy?”

“No. Lila already told staff what to do. We are to help police and keep the guests from being upset. And we are not to talk to press.”

“But I wouldn’t involve Lila in my investigation. I wouldn’t want to bother anyone here or cause anyone to lose their job. Really. And I think I could investigate, just ask a few people a few questions, without doing anyone any harm.” She stopped talking and concentrated on her paddling. She realized she was going to need James’s help in gaining the cooperation of the rest of the staff. And she had no idea how to convince him that she wouldn’t hurt anyone. “I—”

Before she could say anything more, Joann coasted over to her side. “Have you gotten the hang of this yet?”

“I’m doing fine now,” Susan said, immediately offended. “I’m just not accustomed to this type of kayak. In Maine—”

“Really? I find this very easy. Almost relaxing.”

Something about Joann’s voice implied that Susan was a complete klutz. “I’m just not used to this type of kayak,” she started her explanation again. “See, in Maine—”

“I’ve been thinking about the murder,” Joann interrupted. “I think it’s possible that Allison knew someone was going to kill her.”

Susan was astonished. “Why?”

Joann scowled at Susan and then managed to give James a look that was both imperious and demanding. “I believe my husband could use your assistance.”

“Of course. If Mrs. Henshaw doesn’t need me . . .”

“You go ahead. I’ll be fine,” Susan assured him. “I’ll call if I think I’m going to fall in.”

“What’s he going to do? Pull you out and dry you off?” Joann asked as James spun his kayak around and pointed it toward her husband.

“I’ve got the hang of this now. Why did you say what you said?”

“Not in front of the servants,” Joann said, putting one pudgy finger to her lips.

Susan waited until she deemed James out of hearing range to ask the question again. “You said that you thought Allison knew someone was trying to kill her?” She liked this woman less and less, but was curious to know where this would lead.

“Yes. I said that. And I can tell you why.”

“Why?”

“I must tell you that Allison and I had a very interesting talk two days before she was killed.”

Susan made an effort to keep her impatience to herself. “Really? You talked about murder?”

“In a way. We talked about death.”

“What about it?”

“Perhaps I should start at the beginning.”

“Please do.”

“Well, I was lying by the pool—in the shade, of course. I cannot understand what these people are thinking when they sprawl out in the scorching sun for hours and hours. Haven’t they heard of melanomas?”

“Was Allison lying in the shade, as well?”

“No. And now that I think about it, that was unusual. She was talking about the value of life when, in fact, she was practically squandering it.”

“She was talking about the value of life? Is that what makes you think someone was trying to kill her?”

“No, that’s what led to the comment that makes me think she knew someone was going to try to kill her. I do think I should tell this story in my own way.”

Susan doubted if Joann was capable of telling anything any other way. “That’s fine.”

“So there I was, lying in the shade, relaxing, enjoying being on my own—and then Allison sat down a few chaises away from me and almost immediately began to talk about herself. To tell you the honest truth, I was irritated. Yes, I was irritated and I can honestly admit now that she is gone that I’m ashamed of feeling that way.”

“But how could you know she was going to die?”

“Exactly! How could I have known she was going to die?” Joann shook her head so hard that her kayak rocked back and forth.

Susan hoped Joann wasn’t going to fall into the water now that they were finally getting to the topic she found interesting. “Go on,” she urged. “What did she say about herself?”

“She started out by saying that she was relaxed for the first time in years. Well, I disregarded that. We’re all here to relax. It would be almost immoral to say anything else. I don’t remember how I responded. I probably said something like, ‘I know how you feel.’ In fact, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I said. I know I didn’t encourage her to keep talking about herself. But she did anyway. You know how some people are.”

“Yes. What did she tell you?”

“She said she was here alone and that she was using the time to examine her own life. Well, I don’t know about you, but I consider all this self-examination stuff a load of cow doo-doo. I never waste any time examining my own life. I do what I do and that is that. I’ve always been that way.”

Susan suspected that Joann was too busy talking about herself to examine anything, but that isn’t what she said. “Apparently Allison didn’t feel the same way.”

“No, and her conversation was a fine example of where all this life-examining garbage can lead. No sooner did she start talking about life, the value of life, what she had done with her life, all that crap, than she started talking about death. Her own death!”

“In what way? I mean, she didn’t just say, ‘I’ve been thinking about my own death.’ ”

“She did! Well, she almost did. At least that’s what she began rambling on and on about. Very boring. I almost didn’t bother to listen. But then she said something that will interest you.” Joann stopped dramatically, brushed a stray curl of hair off her forehead, and almost toppled her kayak.

Susan willed her lips not to curve upward. “Are you all right?” she asked, when Joann had stopped wobbling.

“Of course. But I will admit that what I’m about to tell you is very upsetting. It upsets me to think of it and it upsets me to talk about it. But I believe in doing what is right so . . . Allison said she didn’t think her own death would be peaceful.”

“What did you say?”

“I actually don’t remember. It’s possible . . .” Susan heard a hint of insecurity in the other woman’s voice for the first time. “It’s possible that she said she expected to die a violent death. Well, you can imagine how I felt.”

“Of course, I’d be horribly upset if someone said anything like that to me. I mean, you must have been shocked and horrified and—”

“I was appalled. What a thing to say to me on vacation. I’m here to relax. I have a very complex life to return to in a few weeks. I certainly don’t expect to be burdened with a stranger’s silly worries.”

“Oh. Did you ask her what she meant?” Susan asked. “I mean, what sort of violence?”

“Of course not! I just told you that I was quite upset by what she said. Why would you ever imagine I’d encourage her to continue talking about it?”

“But—you said she predicted her own murder?” Susan protested.

“I believe what I said was that it was possible she knew she was going to be murdered. She talked to me about a violent end to her life. What is more violent than murder?”

Susan wouldn’t have argued with that even if she had thought there was half a chance that Joann would listen to anything she said. She just paddled back toward land with the rest of her group, wondering if she had learned anything this morning.

Later, reviewing what little she had been told, she realized the high point of the morning had been Joann’s kayak flipping over and dumping its passenger in the water as she passed the gazebo. Even Martin had smiled at that one.