Drowning Lessons

by Rachel Neuburger Reynolds

  After Edgar’s launch, Migs took a picture of me, pointing out the obvious, “You’re really annoying everyone.”

  I repeated my question to Amanda, as a bit of a joke, and she blushed, smiled, drank her champagne and was off. I didn’t say anything to Walter’s father at all as he stared me down.

  Glamorously ascending the stairway, Max took her time, big tortoiseshell sunglasses and haute designer safari wear. She declined the bubbly and held her helmet up with one witchy finger. “Do I really have to wear this? We did this in South Africa and we weren’t riddled with instruments of the mentally ill.”

  “It’s an insurance thing, so yes. And I wouldn’t want you to get necrotizing fasciitis.”

  “From what?”

  “It’s a flesh-eating disease. It happens.”

  She slapped the hand of one of the men harnessing her up as if he were being fresh. “Where’s Nico? Why is he missing? He does not miss a party. He knew I was coming. Where is anyone who matters?”

  “He’s not missing. I saw him this morning.”

  “You’re lying. People’s eyes shift down and to the left and down when they’re lying. Where did you see him?”

  I’d need to remember that lying thing.

  “Kayaking?”

  My time to investigate just shrunk to negligible.

  Her eyes bore into me “That’s not true, Marianna—”

  “Lexie—”

  “Of course.” She didn’t break her gaze with me, even when she yelled to the operators, “Can we get this thing going please?”

  “Don’t forget to watch out for the necrotizing fasciitis,” I yelled after her, as she glided, bored and slightly bemused, into the rainforest. Nothing in life thrilled her.

  The operator tapped me on the shoulder, walkie-talkie in hand, and pointed towards the stairs. “You’ve said it twice. You’re out.”

  “Fine, fine. I’m going.”

  Josh was almost to the top of the stairs when I started down. “What was that about?” he asked.

  “Oh, nothing. I’ve been fired from my duties up here, so, well, you know?”

  “Find anything out?”

  “Yes, I think that I did. I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. Possibly not at all.”

  “Move it along, tall girl!” The operator called from above.

  I sighed, surprised at my confession. “I guess tall has become my defining characteristic.”

  Josh smiled in a way that seemed a little out of his comfort zone. “I never saw you as particularly tall… just pretty.”

  I didn’t expect that one. I never saw coming how much I needed that.

  “I just wanted to take a moment to say that I was sorry. I don’t know what happened back at the station with us. I don’t always say the right thing,” he said awkwardly, as if sorry wasn’t a word in his general vocabulary. He bit the side of his lip and waited.

  “I’m not doing this for my health you know. I’m not doing this because I enjoy it. I’m trying.”

  “You’re doing this because you’re a good person.” His tone was kind.

  “I’ve just been handing out champagne, and… I’m sorry too.” I wasn’t sure how to continue to conversation.

  “So, let’s talk later. I’ll stick with the group for the rest of the afternoon, and we’ll talk at the hotel before the party. We can calmly try to put this puzzle together. No fighting.”

  From the bottom of the stairs, Dave, Walter’s brother yelled up, “What is this? Social hour? Get it moving!”

  “Sure, okay, Josh. I could use the help.” I smiled, walking down the stairs.

  “But I’m still taking my turn,” he said, continuing up the stairs, “This might even be fun. The zip line of course, not the…you know.”

  Chapter 21: Flat Foot

  Going back down the stairs wasn’t as easy as going up, and I held on to the railing for the simple sake of preserving life. Between the slats, fifty feet down, an unmistakably flirty blond skipped down the yellow brick road into the woods.

  Emma, in her flowing yellow dress, shoeless, walking through snakes, fire ants and other various poisonous creatures and plants, quickly disappearing further into the unknown. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if she were bitten by a yet to be discovered species.

  Dave, next in line, pushed towards me, muttering, “We’ve always been cool with each other, but you know that I want my iPhone.”

  I ignored him and joined the remaining bridesmaid crowd. Indicating towards Josh at the top of the zip line, Phil nudged me and whispered, “Someone’s got a boyfriend.”

  And, in the spirit of maturity, I said, “Shut up. Do not.”

  The real Marianna kindly backed me up. “It’s true. She totally does not have a boyfriend.”

  Classic Marianna. She’d scoped the single men and the competition and had decided that Josh, the mopey writer, was going to be hers.

  Why couldn’t he be mine if I wanted him? And I didn’t.

  Did I?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lloyd walking down the same path that Emma had wandered down. Blond, young and beautiful. His taste. Was he starting over again? He’d been looking at her like she was an exquisite specimen the night before. Had killing Nico given him a taste for more?

  It was not easy for me to walk quickly through the unfamiliar and dense vegetation. Our poison frog expert, Crabby Paulo, had referred to the island as a “biologist’s fantasy,” but I’d call it a hypochondriac’s nightmare. The list of all things deadly was running through my head, but it was strictly a life or death need to follow Lloyd.

  The chilling sound of a howler monkey made me trip over the trunk of a tree. The howls were only a defense mechanism, but they were chilling all the same. I fell, knocking the wind out of myself. I’d sliced my ankle open somewhere along the way.

  If Salty could have seen me now.

  He had a running list of put-downs about me, including my habit of not embracing adventures, not working out enough “even though your best friend owns a gym made for lazy people like you,” and that I didn’t take risks (which was why I was back in a job and career that I hated, tail between my legs).

  It was the way he would say it, emerging from his office, “Oh look another day of you doing nothing,” regardless of knowing what I actually did. He was far from perfect, but I never fired insults back at him. Though, I will admit to the guilty pleasure I received reading all of the horrible reviews of his last book, my favorite calling it a “pile of moronic drivel.” He was a revisionist historian, probably working on a new book, probably a memoir, about his crazy love that never existed for a tall girl named Lexie.

  Even while stumbling through the rainforest, directionless, I could hear Olivia’s voice in my head, saying, Why on earth would you have tried to save Emma? My problem would have been gone and the wedding would be on. You knew time was of the essence!

  The darkness of the rainforest was growing as I headed farther in. If I lost the light, then I would lose my direction, and I’d never find my way out.

  A small green snake slithered over my feet so I stood very still, knowing not to startle; the smallest snakes often were the most dangerous. Crabby Paolo had muttered this while breathing down my neck yesterday, smelling strangely like blueberries.

  That’s when I heard the first scream, slightly muffled, and maybe not too far away. I started running again in the direction of the scream, and stopped, waiting for another hint of direction.

  More muffled screams came from behind the trunk of a huge upturned tree, as large as any I’d seen. I touched the years of moss covering it as I climbed up and over, giving me some advantage if I needed to run. The next scream was more of a moan; I knew I was too late, imagining a knife being plunged into Emma’s tan stomach.

  Then I heard her giggle and say, “Shhh.”

  I peeked, just for a moment, and there were Emma and Lloyd, her dress pulled up over her head, and he was writhing against her. I slithered down my side of the tru
nk, hoping to go unnoticed.

  “What was that?” Emma whispered.

  Lloyd clearly said, “Nothing. Just the hundreds of dangerous…” His voice was muffled by another moan.

  That is so not what I wanted to see.

  Did they see me? Was Lloyd slinking behind me reading for the kill? I wasn’t going to look back. I quickly scurried towards the east, finally making it to the shore. My ankle now throbbed and I rinsed it in the shallow warm sea. I wanted to stay there, but could see the Red Frog Beach resort far up the coast. I knew I wouldn’t be comfortable for long.

  Chapter 22: Alone in Paradise

  Mariposa del Mar was a like a ghost town when I returned; everyone else still drunk in the rainforest bar after swinging around like little silver faced capuchin monkeys. War-torn and filthy, I let one of the bartenders scurry over to the water taxi to help me onto solid ground.

  It was a basic kindness that touched me to the core, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t need help walking, but it hurt. The folks at Red Frog Beach had helped me patch it up, though the whole incident had left me exhausted. Josh would be back with the rest of the party eventually, hopefully collecting more intel than me.

  I accepted the comfort as he escorted me down the dock and through the restaurant to a lounge chair. A waiter came over with a Soberana beer and a plate of warm plantain chips. I felt a nap coming on, under the detached supervision of the Mariposa staff.

  Am I kidding myself that I’ll be able to sleep?

  “Hey, I wondered where you went,” Migs called over to me, as he swam over to the lounge.

  He pulled himself out of the calm sea and shook the excess water out of his hair, waiting for the sun to dry his fit body. It was something right out of a bad romance novel, with his shimmering pecs and mischievous green eyes inviting but the wrong choice.

  He frowned looking at my ankle. “Wowie, zowie. That’s not good. What happened?”

  I left it at, “I fell. I’m not quite the essence of grace today.”

  Or, let’s face it, any day…

  “There are more important things than grace. Let me get that cleaned up for real.”

  Blood had already started soaking through the bandage they had patched me up with at Red Frog Beach. He held his hand out for me to take. “I’ve got beer and sun at my cabin. There’s nothing to fear, kitten.”

  His eyes were… new grass green or, like dancing emeralds shimmering in the light of the discotheque? I couldn’t get it right.

  “How would you describe the shade of your eyes?”

  “Just green...”

  I took his hand and followed him to the room, part of me proud that the staff might think he was taking me to his cabin for more than a first aid consultation. His cabin was exactly like the rest of them, but his was now filled with newly replaced photographic equipment, half of it still in unopened boxes.

  He walked through to the deck, “I must admit, I’d kind of like to pretend this didn’t show up yet. Using my iPhone was liberating.”

  He took my foot, propping it up on the small table. He unwrapped the towel from my ankle, displaying the mess.

  “Tell me it’s not as bad as it looks?” I squeaked out.

  “Ouch. Well, it doesn’t look deep, I think. No, it may be positively deep, but I’ll clean it up.” He returned to the deck minutes later with wet warm towels and a first aid kit. “You might want to go to town and see a doctor.”

  “I’ve met the doctor,” I said. “I think I’ll take my chances with you.”

  “I like taking care of you,” he said and winked. “Why don’t you call in sick for the rest of the weekend and I can be your nurse? I know, I know. Don’t get the scared look on your pretty little face. So, did you find what you were looking for at Red Frog Beach?”

  Calling in sick for the weekend sounded like an excellent idea. Migs had another two beers in the next half hour, and I couldn’t even try to keep up. We had said very little after a short discussion on the lack of ideas I had about Nico’s death.

  “Well, I’m taking a nap,” he finally said, yawning, bathing suit hanging low on his hips as he stretched his arms. “Are you coming?”

  I blushed, surprised, as I was more than familiar with his usual innuendos. He perked up at my modesty. I grabbed my beer and was quickly, but immediately regretfully, on my feet, twinges of pain radiating through my lower leg. My clumsiness was on full display as I stumbled out of Mig’s cabin while he looked on in amusement. Slow eyed, he leaned on the frame of the door after I left, watching me go.

  “There’s something wrong with me,” I joked, walking down the wooden path.

  “There’s more that’s right with you,” he said. “Bye-bye.” He closed his door.

  I found myself with an interesting opportunity. The murderer still could have been anyone, after all. There were four bungalows I could search for a clue in.

  Time was certainly ticking. Becky was acting strange, and Max was, well, Max, but what answers could be in Nico’s former lair? I needed to bite the bullet and go for it.

  Before I lost my nerve, I moved quickly down the walkway and entered Becky’s cabin. Clothes were casually tossed on the couch. It looked like she’d brought enough for a month, and had obviously spent all morning trying things on and then discarding them. Most clothes still had the tags on them and based on those prices, I wondered what Walter was paying her.

  Her drawers were filled with the most exquisite and expensive lingerie; Agent Provocateur, La Perla, Bordelle. She was definitely planning on getting laid this trip.

  But by who?

  On the second floor, next to the bed, sat a paperback copy of my book, which she had highlighted throughout in pink. In her night table, two more books about taking control of one’s life, and a Cartier ring box.

  For those who don’t know, the Cartier little red box trumps the Tiffany little blue box any day of the week. The ring was a dazzler, easily 5 carats, square cut, presented like the Queen of England. Olivia would have freaked out if she saw the size of that dazzler.

  Certainly too flashy for my taste, but I wouldn’t be a woman if I didn’t try it on and hold it up into the light making its way through the holes in the thatched roof. I was transfixed, as I momentarily drifted into a fantasy wedding to no one in particular.

  My imagined walk down the aisle was interrupted by the easily identifiable sound of heels on the walkway. On a calm day, noises carried effortlessly on the gentle wind across the resort. It was always best to speak in whispers. Always.

  My charges were back early. I fumbled to get the ring off my finger and back in the box, knocking over little bottles of powders and perfume, spilling pink crystals of something inside the drawer. I picked up the slightly cracked and weathered bottle, with a label that was half gone, labeled “Peppermint.” I brushed the few spilled crystals to the back of the drawer. There was no time to clean up for real. I’d have to let Becky blame it on housekeeping. But the diamond was still there, so what did she care?

  Who was the fiancé and why the secrecy? I made my way quickly down the stairs, hoping to get at least out the door, trying to quickly formulate some kind of natural reason that I’d be lounging around in her grand cabana.

  The door flew open and I was as surprised to see Max as she was to see me. She always seemed taller, but she was actually a petite woman of only five feet. With her demeanor and the four-inch sandals she teetered beautifully on, she more than made up for her slightness. She looked perfect, with her red hair juxtaposed with her white bikini under her white cover-up. She breathed with anger.

  She asked with her snake like tongue, words carefully spaced out, in her silky posh accent, “So these rigmarole excuses about where Nico is are completely fabricated, aren’t they? Lies, right? You are a liar, Lexie! Are you a dirty little liar?”

  Like a five- year- old getting caught in my own web of deceit, I said nothing.

  “Lexie! What. Happened.” She demanded. At least
she finally had my name right. I doubted she’d forget it again. “Are you stupid, or do you think you could answer me? Because I can’t seem to get an answer from anyone else.”

  Josh thought I was stupid. As did Walter. And now Max made up the trifecta.

  “Ok. I wasn’t telling the truth. He died. Of a heart attack.”

  This calmed her for a minute, and I swear she smiled, just a little. “Well, cocaine and Viagra will do that to you.”

  “I don’t know what happened, exactly. We were snorkeling—”

  Out of nowhere, she slapped me across the face. The lies had caught up to me

  “You daft little cow,” she continued. “Do you think I’d really take it so casually when my husband has gone missing? Do you know that I actually had to track down police officers on a surfing beach to find that you, particularly you, had sent Nico’s body to Panama City and not thought it appropriate to tell his wife? The mother of his child!”

  She laid into me for at least twenty minutes. I said nothing and did not break her stare, because I deserved it all. I just hoped I wasn’t going to get another smack across the face. It was a first in my life and I hoped my last.

  She knew every detail, pieced together from a reluctant team of detectives, a seemingly enamored Dr. Nolan, and a fully disclosing and now angry Walter.

  Outside Nico’s cabin were her packed bags; two vintage Louis Vuitton armoire trunks. A speedboat was waiting by the dock to take her to the airport where her chartered jet would fly her back to New York via Panama City to take care of her husband’s body.

  It looked like she’d been traveling for quite some time and I wondered who was watching their child and if she even knew, let alone cared. She was furious and insulting, wondering how I had the audacity to take on any kind of responsibility in looking into this matter?

  She’d apparently riled Walter up to the point of frenzy. The best private investigators out of London and New York were being contacted; if local authorities were not competent enough to find out who killed Nico, then come hell or high water, she would. She was going to sue anyone she could over this, including me. We had acted very poorly.