Valerie Wolzien - Death in a Beach Chair

“Oh, yes, that little gazebo is a favorite spot for romantic trysts.” Ro glanced over at the binoculars lying beside her, and Susan wondered if birdlife was the only thing Ro’s husband spied on. “I gather you were too polite to look over and see who was there?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“And naturally you had no idea Allison would be found there less than eight hours later.”

“Exactly.” Susan frowned. “I can’t remember the last time I saw her alive, to be honest. Not that I knew who she was.”

“My goodness. She said she had changed a lot, but I didn’t really believe her. You know how it is. You dye your hair a shade lighter and think everyone you know will notice, but, in fact, the only person who knows-or cares-is you.”

“She had done a whole lot more than dye her hair,” Susan said. “She had lost about forty pounds. Her hair was a completely different color, and long and straight rather than short and curly. She dressed differently. She had contact lenses. She might have even had cosmetic surgery. She looked familiar, but I never realized who she was.”

“Was she much more attractive than when you knew her?” Ro asked.

“There was no comparison. She used to be… well, not hideous or anything, but rather plain-homely if you want the truth. And yesterday… well, she was smashing!”

“She had a very interesting theory, and from what you say, she was living proof of it.”

“What theory?”

“She said you lived the first forty years of your life in the body your genetic makeup decreed, but once you turned forty, your appearance depended on how hard you worked at it.”

Susan was silent for a moment. “I never thought about it like that, but it’s probably true. The funny thing is, I never would have thought that Allison cared about her appearance. She always looked so dowdy and dull.”

“Those are two words I certainly wouldn’t have applied to the Allison I knew.” Ro leaned closer and lowered her voice as though about to convey a dirty secret. “I’m positive she saw the plastic surgeon more than once.”

“Do you know if she was here alone?” Susan asked, wondering if Allison had a man in her life these days.

“Yes. She told me she was alone the evening we met. I was a little concerned. A gorgeous single woman can cause a lot of mayhem in a place like this. I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“Well, naturally not everyone comes here with a husband or what everyone these days calls a significant other. But this isn’t the type of resort that appeals to swinging singles looking for a vacation pickup. There are lots of those places available. But every once in a while someone comes here looking for a holiday fling. The second year we were here-or was it the third?-no, I’m pretty sure it was the second-there was a woman who damn near caused a divorce when she set her cap for a married man.”

“That really doesn’t sound like Allison,” Susan said.

“Perhaps not, but there aren’t many men who didn’t look up when she walked by in one of those tiny bikinis she wore.”

“No, I guess not.” Susan thought for a moment. “Not counting last night, when did you last see Allison?”

Ro frowned. “You should remember that I didn’t identify Allison as one of the people I saw last night. In fact, if anyone asks, I wouldn’t be able to tell them if your friend’s companion last night was male or female.”

“That’s interesting,” Susan said, noting that this could be the most important thing she had heard so far. “But what I’m wondering is when you last saw her here-just walking around or whatever.”

“That’s easy. We had lunch together yesterday. And she was sitting at the bar having a rum punch last night when Burt and I went in before dinner.”

“Was she alone?”

“Yes, but I must tell you that I got the impression that she was waiting for someone.”

“What did she do that gave you that impression?”

“She was looking over her shoulder at everyone who came in. She seemed rather nervous.”

“Do you know who she was meeting?” Susan asked.

“No, we left before anyone joined her, I’m afraid. But I think we can rule out your friend. After all, they had just spent the afternoon together,” Ro added before Susan could ask another question.

There were questions Susan wanted to ask immediately, but she had to wait until the drinks Ro had ordered were served. An obsequious young man, apparently familiar with the Parkers’ requirements, placed a tray on the trunk and poured deep amber liquid into ice-filled glasses, dropped in lemon slices, and passed one to each woman. Susan, realizing she was thirsty, took a large gulp immediately. And gasped: There may have been a touch of the tea she was expecting, but most of the glass was filled with sweetened dark rum. “Oh, wow!” she muttered.

“Don’t worry, dear. They always use artificial sweetener,” Ro assured her.

“And what else?” Susan asked, realizing that her eyes were watering.

“Mount Gay rum and spring water,” the waiter answered, picking up the empty tray and preparing to depart. “Anything else?”

“We’re fine now,” Ro said, raising her own glass and sipping. “Excellent, as usual. Thank you,” she dismissed him. “Now where were we?” she asked Susan when they were alone again.

“You had just told me that Allison and Jerry spent yesterday afternoon together.”

“Oh, he didn’t admit that to you?”

“It wasn’t a question of admitting anything to anyone,” Susan answered, annoyed. “I never asked him what he was doing yesterday. I haven’t even spoken to Jerry about Allison… or about her murder.”

“The police did take him off rather abruptly, didn’t they?”

“I’m sure they’ll discover that they’ve made a mistake and he’ll be back here soon,” Susan stated flatly.

Ro didn’t seem convinced. “Perhaps you’re right. But I certainly would feel much better if I could tell the police that someone else was out on the beach last night, someone else who had a reason to kill Allison.”

Susan stood up so quickly that she spilled her drink. “Jerry Gordon had absolutely no reason to kill Allison. She was his sister-in-law. They were family. The police have made a terrible mistake.”

“She was his sister-in-law? She didn’t tell me that!”

Susan realized that she was giving away as much information as she was getting. “What exactly did she tell you about herself?”

“Well, let me think. She mentioned her career, that she was an illustrator who did mainly freelance work. But when I asked about it-and it sounded very interesting-she said she was on vacation and didn’t want to think about work.”

“Did you think that was odd?”

“Not at all. She wouldn’t be the first person to try to forget problems back at the office while on vacation. Why, there was a famous senator here a few years ago and he absolutely refused to talk politics.”

Susan didn’t think that was exactly the same thing, but she didn’t mention it. “So what did Allison talk about?”

“Oh, the places she had visited on other vacations, things she had done, books she had read. She didn’t speak a whole lot about what you could call her personal life. Which must be why I didn’t know she was anyone’s sister-in-law.”

“But she must have mentioned some people. After all, she told you that I had investigated murders, right? She wouldn’t have talked about me and no one else.”

Ro took another sip of her drink before answering. “But you were different than other people. Your name came up because we were talking about murder.”