Valerie Wolzien - Death in a Beach Chair

“I didn’t say anything about a big man! I said someone! How do you think I got this bump on my head if someone didn’t hit me?”

“You fell. You hit your head. It happens,” the older man said in an offhanded manner.

“I’m telling you that I was assaulted. You should file a report. You should be asking me questions. You should start to look for whomever it was who did this to me! You are holding my husband without any real reason at all, and there is someone loose here who has criminally assaulted me! That person and the murderer could be-very possibly are-the same person! And you’re doing nothing!”

“Mrs. Gordon, we are not doing nothing. We will file a report, which will require much paperwork. We will investigate your allegation that this strange man-or woman-knocked you out. If there is a crime here, we will do our very best to find the person who committed it. But there is no connection that I or my partner can see between this and the brutal murder of Miss Allison McAllister. Except for the involvement of your family in both crimes.”

“I-what? But that’s ridiculous!”

“Not so ridiculous. Let me tell you a story.”

Kathleen ground her teeth so tightly that Susan could hear them skid, but she merely nodded and the police officer began.

“Years ago when my father joined the police force, there was another murder on the island. A young woman kill another young woman. She think if this other young woman dead, then the woman’s fiancé will fall in love with her and marry her. But he did not love her, and in time, he found another woman to love. So, as you might guess, the woman who murdered his first fiancé murdered the second. That’s when we caught her, of course.”

“So what? You just proved what I was saying to you! If you think Jerry killed Allison, do you think he assaulted me, too? While you have him locked up? Are you nuts?” she asked, sitting up in bed and scowling at the men.

“This is a small island, Mrs. Gordon, but we have our bad people, too. A person who is locked up, a person of means as your husband appears to be-” He stopped and looked around the luxury cottage before going on. “A person like that could hire a bad person to do these things for him.”

“My husband would not hire someone to hurt me!” Kathleen said, standing up and yelling right in the oldest officer’s face. “Get out of my cottage. Now!”

“We must file report. We’ll be back for you to sign it,” the younger man said.

“I won’t sign anything,” Kathleen said, turning her back on the men. “Now please leave my cottage.”

“You should lie back down,” Susan said, trying to guide Kathleen toward the bed. “Please, Kath. You can’t help Jerry unless you take care of yourself.”

Kathleen sat on the bed. “I don’t seem to be capable of helping Jerry period.”

“I’m going to call Frances Adams. Maybe she can help us.”

“Who?”

“Frances Adams. The American embassy representative on the island.”

“Oh, yes. I met her. That might be a good idea,” Kathleen said quietly.

“Are you all right? Are you feeling nauseous? Faint?”

“I’m just terribly tired. You know, I think I will lie down for a while. Maybe take a nap.”

“I shouldn’t leave you alone.”

“You should. I’m okay, Susan. Just unhappy and tired. You go do what you have to do. Maybe you can help Jerry. I sure don’t seem to be able to.”

“I’ll call Ms. Adams.”

“And I’ll take a nap.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ll be fine. One thing about these louvered windows-someone will hear if I call out.”

“I guess so. You know one thing that bothers me about this place?”

“What?”

“The lack of phones. I hate the fact that Lila or someone in the office overhears all our conversations.”

“We should have brought international cell phones. You can rent them. Jerry actually suggested it, but I didn’t want him checking in with work and vetoed the idea. What an idiot I was.”

“You had no idea all this was going to happen.”

“You can say that again.” Kathleen closed her eyes.

“Do you want me to wake you up for dinner?”

“When are you going to eat?”

“Around seven?”

“I’ll meet you in the restaurant. Save me a seat.”

“Sure. See you then.”

“Uh-huh.”

Susan smiled. Kathleen was already drifting off to sleep, so she quietly shut the door and started toward the office, stopping to stick her head in the gift shop. James was lounging against the wall, smiling seductively at the attractive young woman who was sitting behind the cash register pretending to work. Susan thanked him for his help in organizing and moving Kathleen, then explained that her friend was resting. “She promised me she would yell out if she needed something. Since you’re close by, I wonder if you would just keep an ear out-just in case.”

“Of course. Lila expects us to do all we can to help the guests. I’m here until six tonight. If she calls, I’ll run.”

“Thank you so much,” Susan said, thinking that she was going to have a lot to remember when it came time to pass out tips.

Lila was in her office with the door closed. A woman Susan didn’t recognize was manning the desk. “I need to make a phone call,” Susan said.

“Of course, Mrs. Henshaw. Do you need a phone book?”

“I want to speak to Frances Adams. She works for the United States embassy office.”

“I can get that number for you. We have it right here in this little book.” She flipped through the pages of a small, worn notebook and found the number immediately. “I can dial for you. Phones on this island are not what you’re used to in the United States.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” Susan didn’t say any more as the door to Lila’s office opened and she came out, followed by the two officers who had been so horrible to Kathleen. In an example of dreadful timing, their appearance coincided with the call going through.

“Ms. Adams,” the young woman announced in a tone no one could ignore and handed Susan the receiver.

“Thank you.” There was nothing she could do but take the call. “Hello, Ms. Adams. This is Susan Henshaw… Of course, Frances. I-” She paused and looked at her audience. “I’d like to speak to you about something… Wherever it would be convenient… Let me write down the address.” The woman who had dialed the embassy for Susan pushed a pencil and paper toward her. “Thank you.” Susan wrote quickly. “I’ll be there in less than half an hour. Bye.” She handed the receiver back. “I must go get my purse and talk to Jed. Could you call me a cab and tell them this is where I need to go? Thanks.”

Susan turned and walked away without even acknowledging the police officers’ presence. Back at her cottage she found Jed napping after his large lunch. Susan woke him enough to tell him what she was doing and then wrote a note in case he woke up later and couldn’t remember a thing she had said. Finally she grabbed her purse and took off.

Susan’s cab once again splattered coral chips into the sky as it took off toward town. As they approached the more populated area of the island, her driver made a sharp turn and entered what looked to be jungle. The trees narrowly parted for the dirt road, and the buildings disappeared.

Susan leaned forward so the driver could hear what she said over the noise of his engine. “This isn’t the right way!” she yelled. “I’m going to see Frances Adams. She works at the United States embassy offices.”

“Yes. Ms. Adams. That’s where I take you,” he yelled back, swerving to avoid a scrawny black chicken busily pecking at something in the middle of their path.