Drowning Lessons

by Rachel Neuburger Reynolds

  “Oh my god, thank you.” I excitedly put the earrings on. “This is too much. Olivia, this is too much. I mean…”

  “It’s just money,” she said, having achieved that enviable level where wealth and extravagant gifts meant nothing.

  Blood money.

  Hush money.

  “I mean, you’ve done more than I should have ever asked, and now on top of bridesmaid stuff, needing to clear Walter’s name and everything.

  “I’ve been on the phone trying to get lawyers from New York, but it’s 6 a.m. I’ve got to get to Panama City to get to the embassy. It’s our best shot. It’s a huge mess and it turns out that on this island, it’s easier to close an airport than open it, especially when the people in charge have gone surfing. Like, are you kidding me?

  “I’ve been up all night. And I mean all night. I just might be losing it. I spent the wee hours looking through everyone’s phones. You’d be surprised at how few people lock devices,” Olivia explained, with no sort of moral consciousness. “You’d be shocked at what’s going on behind closed doors! Walter’s uncle Gordon is having an affair with a chiropractor named James. Also, Lloyd, though he is my first suspect, does awfully good seductive texting, and Amanda is this close to dumping her husband. You think that she’d tell me, of all people.”

  She’d always loved getting the dirt on everyone and sharing it only with me. At least that’s what she had always told me.

  I got out of bed and opened the doors to the deck. It looked like a perfect day was coming, at least weather-wise.

  “Don’t go out there. You don’t know who’s listening,” snapped Olivia.

  “How are you going to get to the city without a plane?” I replied.

  “I’ve got a boat that will take me to Almirante and then a helicopter to Panama City. So, you need to hit the streets, by boat I guess. The boat street.” She creepily laughed. “I need you on the ground. Talk to people. Most homicides are solved within 48 hours, so Law and Order tells me, so time is of the essence. Someone had to see something.

  “Anything. I’m sure you can find something out when you’re hosting the tour. You were good with those cops yesterday. Remember. We’re in it. To win it. Color me exhausted. I wish I’d have slept. I’ll tell you one thing: I’m not getting married in a Panamanian prison. Don’t give me a present, just figure this out. You’ll be like Fox Mulder and I’ll be the guy with the cigarette behind the scenes. I can’t do both.”

  I appreciated the X-Files reference, but why couldn’t I be Scully?

  “And, okay, seriously,” she continued. “I really am still banned from the police station, so you’ll have to handle that. They wouldn’t let me in last night. I guess you can do that down here. My face is probably on a Polaroid with a devil mustache and horns drawn on, so any entry is denied. Can’t be legal. Probably. Make excuses for me. Don’t worry, I’ll be back for the costume party. Thanks, Lexie.”

  She stood up and headed for the door, then thought twice, coming back and hugged me for a long time.

  I whispered, “You have to come clean.”

  Then she collapsed, sobbing, in my arms. We sat on the bed and she cried, not having any answers or clues. Her long blond hair was sweaty and she hadn’t been sticking to her three showers a day routine. This hadn’t happened since Ryan broke up with her 17 years ago.

  When I finally wiped her last tear away, she begged, “You’re the only one I can trust. Everyone will leave and I’ll never get married. Or maybe we can at least find someone else we can implicate, like my sister or something…”

  I looked deeply into her pleading eyes, utterly conflicted. My best friend was lying in my arms, as vulnerable as I’ve ever seen her, and then as if under cover of night, she slips in the idea of wrongly incarcerating someone else.

  All for the sake of a walk down La Gruta’s bat lane and an eventual piece of blood red velvet cake.

  There are ways I could have saved the day for everyone else. With Olivia away for the day, I could have fought to open the airport and evacuate the wedding party before sunset. We’d still be on a plane with a killer, but it was a risk I was almost ready to take.

  And then she was gone.

  I was up, so by 7:00 a.m. I sauntered out to find some coffee before heading down to the police station. Josh sat at the end of the dock next to a fishing boat, flanked by the captain smoking a pipe, and two crew members, enjoying the freshness of the morning.

  Josh was in full flow when I reached him. “We were all supposed to meet here at 6:00. This was our thing: deep sea fishing. Rain or shine, sick or fine, rum or wine. Well, that’s what we always said. This is very weird. This is not like either of them. Walter showed up last year when he had food poisoning, on time. It wasn’t pretty, but you get the picture.”

  He was pulling off a very classic Kennedy sailing look; not so much looking like JFK himself, but one of the Wayfarer clad members of the entourage. The guy smoking a cigar on the high seas with our handsome president, his face half-remembered in the background of a photo in an old magazine, taken of JFK and Peter Lawford. A little bit classic, a little bit entitled, but still being that awkward single gentleman, devoid of a plus one.

  Please don’t ask me if I know anything, because I just might say yes.

  Josh wasn’t stupid and was shooting holes in every story I came up with to explain why Nico and Walter might not have shown up.

  “There is no way. You don’t get it. At least not without an enormous apology. At least without something.” Fishing was the one reason he didn’t write off Nico altogether.

  “Do you know anything about that village they were visiting last night? The one that Olivia was talking about? Because my feeling is that there isn’t a village at all. I think I’m going to take this boat down to the police station and see if they can help.”

  “No, please,” I blurted out.

  “No?”

  So, I spilled. I desperately needed to tell a rational person about what was going on. His expression changed from surprised to shocked, to downright angry. But there was no sorrow. All of his attention was focused on Walter behind bars.

  “Ok, so let’s go.”

  He had been my much-needed confidante, but I didn’t want him along. “It’s kind of my gig. I just wanted to let you know.”

  That didn’t come out right. Of course he’d want to do something. It’s one of his best friends.

  “You can’t stop me from going, with you or without you. Do you see the boat I’m standing in front of?”

  So, there it was, I had a partner. I immediately knew it was a mistake telling him. Damage control, really, and not partners, but self-preservation. I hoped he’d still be there when I got back from the mad dash to my room; shoes, money, and the surprise reaction of applying lip gloss and a quick fix of the hair. I grabbed the slam book and ran back to Josh, who had waited.

  I boarded the boat in the least graceful of manner, all of my belongings scattering over the damp deck. Josh chased after the loose pages of the slam book. Watching with dread in slow motion, he tried to put the book back together, ending in a curious skim of the volume.

  Oh no. I don’t know what’s about to happen, but it’s not going too good.

  “Peculiar dossier.” He frowned at me, seeming very tall.

  “Yeah. Well. Schedules. Budgets. Lists. Not what it looks like.” My cheeks were on fire.

  “I think it’s exactly what it looks like. Something out of a twelve- year- old’s birthday party.”

  I lowered my voice again. “Well, it’s helpful now. Somebody in this book is, you know…”

  “Well, it’s obviously Lloyd. He looks at everyone like they might be his next anatomical experiment.” Josh opened the book and flipped through it until he found his page and read out loud: “Josh Wright. Groomsman. Long, long, longtime friend of WF, living in Chi-town, also known as the windy city. Another trust fund baby. Waaah. Single - that’s with three exclamation points by the way. Writer of bor
ing book on the forgotten modernist John Dos Passos. Snooze-a-saurus Rex, it says here. Could be cute if he tried a little harder. Maybe mopey, maybe arrogant. Marianna, want a crack at this one? You could import him to New York.”

  Cleans up well? Too shy for his own good? Kind smile?

  All I could say was, “I didn’t write that. I just read it. And I’d never set you up with Marianna. I like John Dos Passos. I read the trilogy and everything. Look, it’s all very high school, I’ll admit. But there are far worse descriptions of other people in there.”

  He turned the pages, eyebrows betraying the shock at some of his discoveries. He tossed the book on a table and let the captain know we were ready to go.

  He stubbornly stared me down and I repeated the plan of keeping the rest of the guests in the dark.

  “Do you know just how in over your head you are? Beyond.” He shook his head. “—I didn’t mean that.”

  Snooze-a-saurus Rex? No, just a jerk. Marianna could have him.

  Chapter 18: Oh So Very Over My Head

  My idea of the best way forward with Josh was to pretend that the last ten minutes never happened.

  I asked polite questions regarding his flight and if he enjoyed himself at the scavenger hunt, which he did not. He tersely responded that he was paired with Uncle Gordon’s sixty-year-old wife, who had sexually harassed him for the whole three hours, innuendos flowing like Niagara Falls. I could see he was dying to tell more of the story, but I knew he wouldn’t.

  Down at Bocas Town PD, we were made to wait for a while. The 24-hour police force was essentially only a 9-5 operation, with two shifts of phone operators who would call and wake someone up if their presence was absolutely needed, which was more or less never.

  Finally, my friendly detectives emerged. “Lexie!” LaGuardia said. “Here to see your killer? And who’s this guy?”

  “Walter’s not my killer. He’s not a killer at all. And that guy is just Josh, one of Walter’s friends.”

  “Are you here to have the same conversation again?”

  Knowing what an idiot I sounded like as I got up to follow them towards their office, I said, “I think that my presence speaks for itself.”

  “Will you be trying to tell me how to do my job now, Tall One?” LaGuardia looked at Josh, who was walking behind me. “Does he talk?”

  “Not really.”

  Walter was sleeping, seemingly sound. A Trivial Pursuit Lord of the Rings Edition sat on a table near the cell. The detectives had told him that if they played and Walter won, they would release him. Of course, they didn’t have any intention of letting him go.

  Walter began to wake up as I flirted and bickered with the detectives, asking for a few moments alone with the prisoner. Walter looked predictably frazzled. The cell was basic but hospitable enough. It even had the benefit of a screen in front of the toilet to provide a little privacy. He had a rough looking blanket around him as he whispered to us.

  “Thanks for coming, Josh. No one knows I’m here, right? I am just beyond humiliated. And tired. And broken hearted.” Walter’s voice was gruff.

  “No one knows what happened yet,” I said. “I just thought you needed—”

  “Cut to it,” Josh interrupted. “Could you have a motive?” He moved the board game to the side and took a seat on the tiny table.

  Walter weakly replied, “No. I mean, what do they think? That I thought I’d ruin my wedding by killing my best friend? That’s a motive. He was a lovable Alpha snake. A very lovable snake.”

  “You probably shouldn’t be referring to him as an Alpha snake in your situation,” Josh mentioned.

  “He would have got a kick out of it,” he unconvincingly replied in the same way that Lloyd had yesterday. “Why isn’t Olivia here?”

  “She went to Panama City to see what the embassy could do. She thinks it’s your best bet. And she’s not allowed in here anymore anyway.” I changed the subject back to the point at hand. “Walter, Josh had said that you locked him and everyone else out of the house during your party. Did you really? Someone must have been able to get to your needles. You really couldn’t have locked all your friends out of your house for the entire night.” I got out my pen to scribble in the back of my guest register.

  What was I going to do with this information? No idea.

  Walter answered, “Why not? Sure, I really did lock them out. You’ve seen these guys drink. I don’t want to open the door to a bedroom or bathroom or who knows what. They can puke in the pool, you know what I mean?”

  Money can buy anything but class it seems.

  “Walter, help me here,” I pleaded. “Maybe not just at the party? Who else was in your place?”

  He rubbed his stubbled face. “Olivia, of course, had a key. Edgar, my college buddy, showed up earlier in the week. I had cigars with him and my dad. I mean, I guess anyone who was at the party Tuesday night could have found a way into the house. I passed out pretty early. Lloyd. Michael, Gordon, Scott….” Walter counted off on his fingers.

  Back to square one, where everyone was a suspect.

  Josh was serious. “They should be looking at Lloyd.”

  Walter continued. “My dad, some girls, that photo guy. Yeah, sure, it could have been Lloyd.”

  “What were you doing at that crappy hotel where all the photos were destroyed, though? I saw you and Olivia leave on the boat. You know, they think you wrecked Mig’s room. Your visit wasn’t exactly a secret. And I’ve never known you to frequent any version of a dive bar, ocean front or not. It’s not looking great. Give me something, Walter.” I paused for a moment thinking about bachelor parties in general. “And what girls were at this party? Girls we know?”

  “You know, girls…” he shrugged off.

  Ah, those kinds of girls. Refrain from judgment, Lexie.

  Josh was no help; he’d passed out early as well, not used to four tequila shots an hour. Josh woke up at 5 a.m. to realize that someone had drawn hockey sticks in red magic marker across his forehead and found his way back to Mariposa del Mar. When I asked if he remembered who was fraternizing with the girls, he just waved me off.

  “That is not,” Josh had said, “germane to the conversation.”

  I had replied, “I don’t think that’s the correct use of the word.”

  “I think you’ll find that it is.”

  Currently forgetting that I thought he had a kind smile.

  Walter brought the focus back to himself. “And as far as me being at the hotel where the photographer was staying? I needed some time out and a stiff drink to think about my friend. I wanted to be alone. I just needed to be alone, with all this secrecy and lies. I don’t think we should be keeping this a secret. But thinking about that, there are about seven hotels in Bocas and we’ve taken over five of them. The hotel was there. I knew it was there. It was quiet. And, it had a bar.”

  “Here, Walter,” Josh took the book from me and handed it over. “Is there anyone here who could have any reason to want Nico out of the way?”

  Who died and made Josh Inspector General?

  “No, no, no, no, no.” I snapped the book out of Walter’s hands. “There’s a lot of private bridal stuff in there. And a lot of stuff you really don’t want to see.”

  “I’ll attest to that,” Josh snidely added.

  “It’s a lot of silly comments made by silly girls, three glasses in after midnight. I’ll just read the names out loud and tell me who you think might have a motive. However slight.”

  Please don’t do this to me.

  Please don’t let me endure yet another person’s wrath.

  From behind me, Josh yanked the book out of my hands and tossed it to Walter, who moved out of my reach.

  Josh confirmed, “For better or for worse, not to make a wedding pun, you’ll want to see this.”

  Walter was flabbergasted as he turned the pages. His family didn’t have near the kind of money Nico did, but he was still from wealthy Virginia stock, the kind that didn’t air dirty la
undry.

  “Do you really think it’s necessary,” he asked angrily, “that all the yappy bridesmaids, yourself excluded, need to know about my brother’s fetishes or that my grandmother will ‘flip a flapjack’ if anyone talks about the White Sox? Or that Brian has a glass eye, which isn’t even true. God help us all.”

  “And enjoy my page,” Josh said. “According to this, I may be the most boring person in history.”

  “Well, that might be true,” Walter joked. “But everyone should have the distinct chance to figure that out on their own.”

  After a moment of silence, Walter’s mood changed back to that of desperation. “Please, you guys. I need you. Josh, you’ll help Lexie, right, if the embassy doesn’t come through? Everyone’s going to leave the island and I’m going to be left to rot away here.”

  Rotting wasn’t exactly accurate. He’d have beer, entertainment, and passive-aggressive humor.

  He started at the beginning of the book, taking time to think about every entry. “I don’t know. I think Edgar had some bad business with him. A while back. I think that’s water under the bridge.

  “Max? But she didn’t make it down. I don’t think his money even goes to her. Lloyd, because he’s Lloyd. But I wouldn’t have invited him if Nico hadn’t insisted. I honestly don’t know.”

  “Max is actually here,” I said. “She took a private jet in early yesterday morning.”

  “What? What? Can you have her come see me? She can get anyone out of anything. What a mistake keeping this all under wraps.”

  I had to agree there.

  “Sure,” I confidently said, “Walter, we’re going to fix this.”

  “Don’t worry,” Josh commented. “I’m not letting her do this on her own.”

  Count to ten.

  Count to ten twice.

  Count to ten backwards. Then breathe.

  The humidity was stifling, but Walter still pulled that blanket around him. Reluctantly, he smiled at me and said, “Thank you.”