For the first time since the loss of her parents, she felt hopeful and excited about the future.
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Masked in Paradise
Harriet Monroe, known to most as simply Harry, stood on her lanai and looked out over the turquoise waters lapping the white sand beach at the rear of her cottage. She’d only been working at the Island Resort for six weeks but the place already felt like home. This was where she was meant to be.
A soft breeze freshened off the ocean and ruffled her honey blonde hair. The breeze smelled of salt and dried seaweed left on the beach by the receding tide.
She’d landed her dream job–public relations director for the most exclusive resort on the planet. Who’d have thought that a high school dropout could do so well for herself? Not that she’d dropped out of school by choice. It had been forced on her when she had run away from her unloving aunt and warped uncle at the tender age of fifteen.
Harriet grinned. Warm, salt-scented air, exotic flowers, turquoise waters, an incredibly beautiful cottage all to herself–she’d come a long way from the cold New England winters of the last twenty years.
The days when she’d sought shelter in doorways and stairwells because she had nowhere else to sleep seemed to belong to another person.
Dream job, dream location. What else could she ask for from life?
“You ready to do this, Harry?”
Her best friend Solomon Ayers called to her as he stepped out onto the lanai of the cottage next to hers. Tall, slim and well built with the chiseled features sculptors worked hard to recreate, all finished off with thick sable brown hair and warm brown eyes–Solly was a package that made many a girl’s heart stutter.
Unfortunately for those girls, Solly’s interests lay elsewhere, a fact his father hadn’t been able to accept. The senior Ayers had tried beating the “sickness” out of his son until Solly decided he’d had enough and run away.
The two young teenagers had met up on the streets of Portland and had immediately connected, helping each other avoid those who preyed on young runaways.
Harriet grinned over at her friend. “I’ll meet you out front. I just need to lock up.” She turned away from the view and hurried back inside the cottage, locking the double glass doors that led from her bedroom to the lanai.
A massive king-size bed surrounded by filmy white insect curtains dominated the large, mahogany-paneled room. The room felt cool and soothing after the brightness of the sun’s rays bouncing off sand and water, a deliberate effect created by the resort’s interior designer.
Harriet had yet to meet Jan Rhymes, but when she did she intended to give the designer a big hug. Jan had done an outstanding job putting together not only Mermaid Cottage where Harriet lived, but also Harriet’s new office. Both places were luxurious beyond Harriet’s wildest expectations.
She hurried through the cottage and double checked the remaining two sets of doors that opened onto the wrap-around lanai. It had only been two short weeks since she’d been attacked in her cottage, and while her brain understood that the threat no longer existed, her emotions insisted that she still take precautions.
Grabbing the small canvas knapsack that served as her handbag, Harriet let herself out the front door and locked that as well. Solly watched her but said nothing about her paranoia. Solly always understood, and for that she loved her closest friend more than she could ever express.
Harriet tucked her hand inside Solly’s arm and they headed up the crushed pink shell road toward the main resort. She preferred walking to her office over driving one of the resort’s open carts, probably because she had the choice. Walking to work on the coast of Maine during the winter had never been an option.
“Have you tried the spa yet, Sol?” she asked.
“Nope. It wasn’t finished when I first arrived, and then I got too busy with the greenhouses and grounds crews to take the time. I’ve heard good things about it, though.”
Harriet knew that her friend loved his work. She wasn’t the only one who had landed their dream job. Solly was in charge of the seven greenhouses that grew the flowers for the guest cottages and the arrangements for the public areas like the dining rooms, various lobbies, and anywhere else flowers were needed–which was pretty much everywhere a guest might roam.
The greenhouses also provided the kitchen with some of the more exotic greens, fruits, and vegetables that they served to the guests. And if that wasn’t enough, Solly also managed the groundskeepers who kept the resort looking pristine and other-worldly beautiful.
He did the work of three men and seemed to thrive on it, but in the last few days Harriet had noticed a slight tightening around her friend’s eyes that told her he needed a break. He had confirmed her suspicion when he readily agreed to take a day off to visit the spa with her.
They walked along in a companionable silence, the road’s crushed shells crunching softly under Harriet’s sandaled feet. The waves lapped at the shore on their left in a steady rhythm and brightly plumed birds darted among the trees and shrubs to her right.
Harriet took a deep breath of scented flowers and fresh sea breezes and wondered if she’d ever felt this happy. Maybe when her parents had been alive, but she had so few memories of that time. A dull throb started at the back of her head and she sent up a prayer that she wouldn’t get one of her migraines.
She shook off the thoughts of her parents. This was not the time to think of sad things.
“Thank you for doing this with me, Sol. I need to experience the spa so I’ll know how to best showcase it, but I want to be sure I can represent what will appeal to men as well as women.”
Solly grinned at her, his brown eyes sparkling. He had the longest, thickest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man or woman. It was really quite unfair. Women paid good money to have eyelashes like Solly’s implanted.
“No need to thank me, Harry. I’ve been looking forward to this ever since you asked. I’m just glad you asked me instead of McDreamy.”
“Don’t call him that. His name is Alex.” She tried to sound stern but couldn’t help the grin that stole across her face.
“I stand corrected. Alex McDreamy. I admit that I’m curious–just a bit you understand–as to why you asked me and not him.”
A blush crept up Harriet’s neck. An ex-New York City murder cop, Alex Hayes headed the resort’s security department. Secretly she agreed with Solly’s assessment–when Alex was close by the man made her pulse pound–and that’s exactly why she hadn’t asked him to join her at the spa. He was too . . . distracting.
“I didn’t ask Alex because I wanted to do this with you,” she told Solly firmly. “I’m more comfortable with you than anyone else I know and I trust that you’ll tell me the truth without trying to be polite about it.”
“What time is our appointment?”
“Ten.” Harriet checked her wrist unit. “We’d better get moving or we’ll be late. Let’s grab a cart.”
The resort provided stylish, chrome trimmed, turquoise blue golf carts for the guests and staff to get around the island. The hydrogen powered carts ran silent and emitted nothing to pollute the island’s pristine atmosphere.
Several carts sat outside the stone building that housed Harriet’s office. She resisted the urge to stop in and check for messages and slid into the driver’s seat of the nearest cart instead. Solly climbed in beside her and they took off.
The spa had been built on a secluded cove on the west side of the island, nestled between the resort proper–which consisted of several office buildings, the two story main hotel, the kitchens, and several dining spots–and the four coves which hel
d the more private guest cottages. Another group of cottages which Harriet had yet to see lay on the island’s remote northeast shore.
The amusement park, marina, air pad, and the recently opened circus were located on the northwest portion of the island. The resort truly had something for everyone.
“There’s the turnoff.” Solly pointed to a narrow, almost hidden lane leading off to the left. A four foot tall, pale yellow obelisk with the word “SPA” carved into it marked the narrow lane.
Harriet turned the cart down the side road. Two minutes later they parked at the entrance to the spa.
“Five minutes to spare,” she announced, pleased. She hated to be late and usually made sure she arrived at least a few minutes early no matter what the occasion.
They exited the cart and stood looking at the long, windowless pale stone building in front of them. Harriet frowned.
“It doesn’t look very luxurious from out here,” she said. “I expected the place to be over the top, you know? The rest of the resort meets that ‘best in the world’ expectation. I would think Mr. Wade would want the spa to be even better.”
She turned a slow circle, taking in the pink shell parking pad dotted with palm trees and tall, furry-leaved plants she didn’t recognize. Large showy clusters of hanging trumpet shaped flowers in pastel tones of pink, peach, white, and yellow covered the plants.
Harriet took a couple steps closer to one of the flowers and sniffed. The heavy scent made her step hastily back. “What are those flowers? They must be a foot long.”
Solly walked over to stand next to Harriet and grinned. “Brugmansia. Also known as Angel’s Trumpets. You should smell them at night. They’re pollinated by bats so the scent intensifies after sundown. The spa is only open during daylight hours because of them.”
“Huh.” Harriet headed for the building. “Why did you plant them if they’re so offensive?”
Solly held open the heavy, carved wooden door and ushered her inside. “I didn’t. They’re native to the island and Mr. Wade wanted me to leave them. He decided to limit the spa’s hours rather than destroy native fauna.”
Harriet’s already high opinion of the resort’s reclusive owner soared. Someday she hoped to meet the mysterious Mr. Wade so she could thank him for all he’d done for her.
The nondescript outside of the building gave no hint of what waited within. Stepping into the spa was like stepping into another world. Harriet looked about her with wonder. Here was the best in the world spa that she had expected to find.
The lobby wall facing the door was entirely missing. Lush green jungle plants took its place. Small prisms hanging from the roof edge caught the sunlight glinting off the private cove’s waters and tossed subtle rainbows into the lobby. Water cascaded quietly down the pale yellow stone wall to Harriet’s right, landing in a wide trough filled with white water lilies and brightly colored koi.
The soft tinkle of outside wind chimes blended with the soothing sound of the water wall. Two receptionists dressed in resort-blue skinsuits, one male and one female, stood behind a black granite counter in the center of the lobby waiting to greet them. Genuine smiles were plastered on both of their faces.
Harriet crossed the honey colored wood floor with Solly at her side. “Good morning,” she said.
She had expected the couple to be droids, as Mr. Wade used droids to fill most of the receptionist positions in the resort, but apparently he had opted to use humans in the spa as these two were definitely human. Human and beautiful.
The woman’s hair fell in a silky black curtain down her back to her narrow waist. The hair, combined with her smooth mocha skin and bright blue eyes, dainty nose, and bow-shaped lips proclaimed her mixed ancestry. The male possessed the same mocha coloring and black hair but with mossy green eyes. Their skinsuits revealed every curve and line of their bodies. Both were in incredible physical condition.
Harriet resisted the urge to rub the bump on the bridge of her own rather prominent nose and suppressed an inward sigh. Since she stood five feet eleven inches in her stocking feet, petite women with perfect faces always made her feel like a giant ogress.
It wasn’t the receptionist’s fault she had great genes, Harriet reminded herself while she forced a smile. “I’m Harriet Monroe, the resort PR director. I have a ten o’clock appointment.”
The woman tapped a few keys on her PC. “Yes, Miss Monroe, we have you down for the works.” Her blue eyes sparkled at Harriet. “You are really going to enjoy this, I promise you. I just need a little information and then the doctor will ask you a few questions before we begin. Have you ever used a spa before?”
Before Harriet could answer, she heard a commotion behind her and turned. A woman clasping the neck of a thick white robe entered the lobby from an opening next to the water wall. It was difficult to tell the woman’s age as her face was covered in cracked, green clay.
The woman stumbled closer to Harriet. Something was off about her face. It took Harriet a moment to realize that it was horribly swollen.
“Mrs. Haggedorn.” The female receptionist started around the counter.
“Help. You must . . . help me.” The woman reached out a green hand toward Harriet. “Miss . . . take–”
The woman grabbed at Harriet’s arm, letting her robe fall open. She wore nothing but a layer of green mud underneath.
“Mrs. Haggedorn, what happened?” The receptionist sounded truly alarmed.
Unfortunately Mrs. Haggedorn was beyond answering. Her knees buckled and she gurgled something Harriet couldn’t make out. Her hand slipped from Harriet’s arm as Solly caught her and eased her carefully to the floor.
“Do you have a doctor on site?” he asked the hovering receptionist.
“Yes.”
“I already called. She’ll be here in a few moments.” The male receptionist hurried out from behind the counter.
Solly closed the robe to preserve the woman’s modesty. He checked the woman’s wrist for her pulse, frowned and tried her neck.
A woman in the familiar white coat that doctors wore everywhere hurried in from the hall opposite the water wall.
“What’s wrong, Aaron? I was with a client–” she stopped talking as soon as she spied Mrs. Haggedorn on the floor.
Harriet had to admire the doctor’s calm efficiency. She wasted no time kneeling next to the unconscious woman and checking her pulse and pupils. She looked at Solly, who knelt on the other side of Mrs. Haggedorn.
“Are you a friend of Mrs. Haggedorn?” she asked.
Solly shook his head. “No. We just got here. She’s dead, isn’t she?”
Masked in Paradise
Copyright © 2020 by Charley Marsh
All rights reserved.
Published 2020 by Timberdoodle Press.
Masked in Paradise is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and places are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For more information contact the publisher: https://www.timberdoodlepress.com/
All rights reserved
Print Book ISBN# 978-1-945856-70-9
Cover Art: depositphotos.com
About the Author
I have always been happier outdoors than stuck inside. I once rode a toboggan down a 5,000 foot mountain after snowshoeing my way to the top. (Never again) I’ve explored wilderness areas, parks, rivers, and caves across the US and found something to love about every one. I survived a flash flood in the Sonoran desert, have been shot at, and nearly drowned off the coast of Maine. These days I mostly confine my adventures to the words I write.
I fell into writing sideways. I never set out to be a storyteller, but looking back on the elabora
te lies I made up as a troubled teenager I can see that I always had the makings. After many years spent writing articles to accompany my wildlife photography I decided to try my hand at fiction. That first book took me seven years to write. I was hooked and never looked back.
I write across genres because that keeps me interested and every new story feels fresh and begs to be told. The stories entertain me and hopefully some will entertain you as well. In any case, I can’t stop writing. I’ve finally found a legitimate outlet for that teenage girl’s lies.
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