by A R Kennedy
I got up for another glass of juice. As I poured it, I glanced over my shoulder. No one was watching me. I removed the earring and hid it in my left hand. I returned to the table with the refilled glass of juice in my right hand. I tossed the earring under the table as I sat.
I waited a few minutes and then gasped, “Oh no. I lost my earring.”
Charlotte looked over and checked out my other ear. “No big deal. Not like they’re nice.”
I ignored her. I got on my hands and knees and crawled under the table. I tapped each person on the leg. They each lifted their foot up. I took a quick glance at their shoe for blood or any tread resembling the mark I’d seen on the photo, making a semicircle.
“Let me help,” Sabrina said. She joined me under the table. As she crawled in front of me, I got the best view of her shoes. The x-patterned tread was covered in dirt and dust. No blood.
I got to the end of the table. No matches. “Oh well,” I said to Sabrina as I stood.
“Don’t give up. Let’s keep looking.” She remained on her hands on knees and kept up her search.
The rest of the group continued with their lunch, oblivious to our search. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my lunchtime on my hands and knees looking for a not-lost earring. Those quesadillas were going fast.
I returned to the floor but quickly exclaimed, “Found it!” I stood back up and Sabrina walked back over.
“Oh good,” Sabrina said. I put the earring back on. “Did you find it with the back still on it?”
“Oh…oh no. The back was still on my ear when I noticed the earring was gone. That’s how I knew I’d just lost it.” Jack was right. I was a rookie.
Sabrina nodded understanding and took a closer look at my earring, back on my earlobe. “They are pretty.”
“Thank you for your help,” I said to Sabrina. She sat back down between the boys. I glared at Charlotte as I returned to my seat. She shrugged and continued eating her salad.
Just because the shoe each guest wore now didn’t have blood on it didn’t mean they were clear of the murder. They could have washed the shoe. Even if I could remember what shoe they had worn that night, they could have changed shoes before visiting Dr. Higgins.
I sat across from Geri, the most experienced safari traveler of the group. I think she had packed four pairs of shoes. “How many shoes did you bring with you on vacation?” I asked Hazel, who was sitting next to me.
“Umm…” Using her fingers, she counted to four. “Four. Why?”
“Just wondering. Are all of them like them?”
She looked down at her dusty hiking boots. “Oh no.” Using her fingers again, she counted off her shoes. “I brought these, smart shoes for the city, sandals for the pool, flats for dining. This isn’t a place for heels, is it?”
Four shoes. I looked around the table. I doubted anyone had gone on vacation with only one pair of shoes. No way I’d be able to inspect everyone’s shoes.
“Do you need an extra pair, dear?” Geri asked. “Maybe the gift shop has something.”
“Rookie can’t afford the boutique, Geri,” Jack said.
I nodded. He was right. I couldn’t. I’d been in it a few times. The clerk didn’t even get up anymore when I entered. Although I had bought that pink scarf for Charlotte’s birthday.
“Just curious.”
“You are a curious one,” Jack said. “And you sure do lose a lot of things.”
I became defensive and tried to whip up an excuse for my many questions. Fortunately, the staff intervened.
“Naomi, Leticia was asking to see you,” Advice told me.
Now, that seemed curious. I looked around the table for someone’s reaction. No one noticed. I got up and walked slowly to reception. The list of reasons she could want to see me was long. Could she kick me out of the lodge for my investigation? Probably, but where would I go? It’s not like I could just go to a hotel down the street.
Had someone seen me go into a staff-only area? Going through the Wallaces’ laundry? Or borrowing the surveillance camera’s memory card?
Or had she known all these things all along and finally put it all together?
I tried to think positive. Maybe the internet was back up and she wanted me to be the first to know! I grabbed my phone out of pocket. Nope. There was still no Wi-Fi.
Leticia was seated behind her desk, waiting, when I walked into the reception area. “Please, sit down,” she told me, pointing to one of the empty chairs across from her. She smiled and I couldn’t decide if it was genuine or not. “I hear you like it here.”
“I do.”
“The staff like you as well.”
“That’s nice.” Was that typical? I wondered. I had no idea where this was going. “They are all very nice.”
“They tell me you ask a lot of questions.”
I smiled. There was no denying that.
“And that you’d like a job here.”
“What?”
“A few staff have told me you’d like a job here. I’m wondering if you’d be a good fit.”
I looked down at my clothing. If this was a job interview, I wasn’t dressed for it. Cargo pants and a white graphic T-shirt wasn’t exactly professional attire.
She opened a notepad in front of her and held a pen at the ready. “Do you have any experience working at a lodge?”
“No, they don’t have places like this back home.”
“So, a hotel then. Have you ever worked at a hotel?”
“No.”
“And what do you do back home?”
“I work in customer service at a department store.”
She noted it and moved on to the next question. “Did you know that field staff, like Sonny and Ray, had to complete a boundary walk of the property before their first day?”
“No.”
“It’s a twenty-five kilometer walk around the property by yourself. Do you think you could do that?”
I almost didn’t survive a boundary walk around my suite so I doubted anything longer, in an area not protected by fencing to keep the big animals out, alone, would be doable for me.
“I am impressed that you stayed at the treehouse by yourself,” she continued. “That’s some real fortitude. No other guest has ever done that. But don’t confuse that with the ability to work here.”
The good news is she wasn’t kicking me out of the lodge because of my investigation. The bad news is I had no idea how to get out of her office gracefully. And then it got worse.
“I’ve seen your type before.”
My type. I didn’t know what that meant but, based on her tone, it was not a compliment.
“Single American. Thinks everyone is interested in them.” She closed her notepad. The job interview portion of our chat was over. More bad news, I wasn’t getting a job. “I’ve seen you in the lobby. Often. Going through our catalog. Looking at the owners, the Kingleys. Mr. Kingley’s sons are very handsome, and yes, they are single.”
Well, this had taken yet another unexpected turn. She had no idea I thought a murder had occurred at her lodge. She just thought I was a gold digger.
“But they would not be interested in you, especially if you are staff. This isn’t some romantic movie, like Pretty Woman.” Pretty Woman? Did she just call me a prostitute?
I had no response and wanted, desperately, to leave this awkward conversation. Could she not have come up with a more relevant and accurate movie reference? Maid in Manhattan seemed the more obvious, and less offensive, choice.
“How’s the internet?” I asked.
In unison, we said, “It’s temporary. We’re working on it. It’ll be fixed shortly.”
See, I could work here. I knew the party line.
After Lunch
I returned to the room, where Charlotte was waiting for me.
She was sitting in the armchair, her back to the large window. She had placed herself there so she could see me the moment I stepped in. She should have sat on the couch so she co
uld have admired the landscape. They didn’t have views like this anywhere else we’d ever been before. I wondered how long she had waited for me like this.
“Naomi,” she greeted me. She pointed to the couch and I sat. I wasn’t one who would usually follow my younger sister’s orders, but felt this was going to be good. She had a mix of concern and strain on her face.
I sat down across from her. “Charlotte,” I greeted her. I tried to mirror her expression but struggled to keep a grin off my face.
“Naomi,” she said again. She leaned in toward me and placed a hand on my knee. “I’m worried about you.”
“Yes…”
“I love you and—”
Surprised at the sentiment, I interrupted her. “You do?”
“Of course I do.”
“Is…” I looked around, waiting for other family members to pop out. “Is this an intervention?”
“Yes,” she answered.
She’d made a comment about my drinking earlier in the trip but I didn’t think one or two drinks a day on vacation was a big deal. Who doesn’t drink more on vacation? Especially a vacation with your family? Where the booze was included? Of course, if she thought I drank like that at home that might be a warning sign. Were one or two drinks a day a drinking problem? I didn’t think so but who knows what she’d been reading in her textbook today.
“Why are you obsessed with finding Dr. Higgins’ murderer?”
“Obsessed? I don’t think I’m obsessed.”
She scoffed. “What have you done every waking moment since his death?”
“I’ve participated in the lodge’s scheduled activities. I’ve attended game drives, participated in every included activity. If I were skipping activities, a game drive, in order to investigate, well, then you might have a point.” I paused, remembering I had skipped a game drive to investigate. “Fine, once. I skipped one game drive.”
“You weren’t sick?”
“No, I wanted time to investigate while the guests were away.”
“Investigate! That’s what I’m talking about. You’re a twenty-five-year old, with no college degree, working in customer service. You don’t investigate anything!”
I rolled my eyes.
“Do I need to call Mom?” She pulled out her phone. It was an empty threat. I’d yet to see any bars on our phones to make a call from the room. “Would you be acting like this if she were here?”
“I’d probably be spending even more time at the bar if she were here,” I mumbled.
“Naomi!” She briefly put her head in hands. “I’m not kidding. I’m genuinely worried.” She cleared her throat. Oh no, was she going to cry?
“Did you have feelings for Dr. Higgins?”
“Feelings? Don’t be ridiculous. I never even spoke to him. And what we saw of him wasn’t exactly likable. He was a real prat.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was going to be worried if you started getting interested in older men like that. I mean your last boyfriend wasn’t ideal but I could see the attraction.”
“Thank you?”
“But why are you obsessed with finding his killer? If he was indeed killed?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know why. It just seemed to be the right thing to do.
“I think you are seeking meaning in your life,” she said.
“Oh no,” I mumbled. Dr. Charlotte had arrived.
“Let me continue.” She got up and the lecture began. “You are seeking something that the rest of your life isn’t giving you. You are seeking a purpose.”
“So you’re reading psychology books today?”
She continued, ignoring my question, if she had even heard it. “Your recent breakup was difficult.”
It wasn’t as difficult as she thought, or as difficult as I thought it would be. Two years together, and I felt nothing that we split.
“Your job doesn’t fulfill you.”
Oh, it fills me alright. It fills with me with distaste of the human race. How could people complain that much? About clothes? It was no wonder I didn’t drink more.
She sat down next to me on the couch and took my hands. She looked at me earnestly and I tried not to laugh. “I was thinking when we get back home. I could stay with you for a week or so.”
“Please don’t.” This vacation was more than enough sisterly bonding time for me.
“We could get you a pet? A cat maybe.”
“Please don’t.”
“I think a dog would be too much for you to care for.”
She was right. A dog would be way too much for me to care for. The plant our mother sent when I moved into my latest apartment had turned out to be too much for me to care for.
“How about a cat? We’ll go to the local shelter. Get you a cute little kitten.”
“Are you saying I’m going to be like Norah, Nan’s friend? I’m in my twenties—nowhere close to being an eighty-year-old spinster. Is that what you think my future is?”
“I’m saying you need a little company. I’m saying one cat.”
I pushed her hands away. “It starts with just one cat!”
“Fine, no cats, but we need to get you back out there. Maybe we could sign you up for a couple online dating sites.”
“Please don’t.”
“Or…we could hit some of the local coffeehouses and bars or whatever. And I could be your wing-woman!”
“Please…Please don’t.”
She prattled on about the nice photo she had taken of me on a game drive. How we could use that as my profile picture.
She was genuinely concerned about me and it was sweet. I got up and kissed her on the top of her head, the way I did when she was a child and I was always at least a head taller than her. “Thank you.”
At least she didn’t think I had a drinking problem.
The Pool
I was sitting at the pool, reading a book. I was trying to put the investigation out of my head. Maybe Charlotte was right. Maybe I was becoming obsessed.
I’d borrowed a book from Sabrina. No more murder mysteries for me on this trip. She was thrilled when I had asked, glad to share one of the many romance novels she had brought with her.
A noise startled me out of the sickly sweet romance. How did she read this stuff?
I couldn’t place the noise. It was high-pitched and an odd tune. Sabrina struggled with her bag and pulled out the ringing cell phone.
Had I been on vacation that long that I didn’t recognize cell phone rings anymore?
“Caden?” she answered. “Caden, is that you?” She peered at the phone and then got up. “Caden? Can you hear me?” She got up and walked over to the edge of the pool area and leaned against the wood fencing. She frantically searched for a better signal, walking up and down its length. She would shout “Caden” at the phone and then recheck the signal strength if she didn’t get a reply.
The odd dance stopped, two steps away from the farthest end of the fence. I could no longer hear her but it seemed Caden could. She began nodding and talking, now with a good connection and able to have a conversation with the caller.
“Who was that?” I asked Zaden. “Your mom looked a little panicked.”
“That’s my dad,” he answered, not looking up from his tablet. He was playing some type of game, where no internet connection was required. “We’ve been trying to reach him for days. Service out here sucks.”
I silently agreed. “Oh, that’s nice that you guys’ dad was finally able to reach you.”
“Just my dad,” he corrected me. “It’s Zonah’s stepdad.” He mumbled a profanity. I wanted to rebuke him. I couldn’t imagine his mother being pleased at the language but held my tongue. He had already called me old once. I didn’t need to hear it again.
“Oh…” I answered. I reopened the romance. Would Dominique find her way back to Andre? I didn’t think I was going out on a limb by answering yes. Really, how did Sabrina read this stuff? I closed the novel again and looked back at Sabrina
. The connection had lasted and she appeared to be having an intense conversation with her husband, Caden. “But wait, she called him Caden.”
“Yeah, my dad, Caden.”
In the days we’d been here I’d never once heard the name Caden. I racked my brain for what she had called him. “I…I thought his name was C.K.”
“Did you think that was his real name? It’s initials.” He said it with enough teenager attitude that I felt I had been slapped. “Caden Kristoff.”
“Oh, thanks, Zaden.”
He mumbled, “You’re welcome,” and continued his game. I looked over his shoulder. It seemed pretty violent.
I returned my attention to Sabrina. She remained frozen at the fence, not wanting to lose the signal. Things must be bad if she was using his full name. I know it was in my house. A shiver ran down my spine, recalling the last time my mother referred to me by my full name, Naomi Violet Hanley. I wish I had been thousands of miles away from my mother during that conversation.
As I left the pool area, I spotted Hazel at the end of the walkway. She was looking around desperately and waved when she saw me. She was crying. Again. “Can you help me, dear?”
“What wrong?”
She ignored me and motioned for me to follow her into their room.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, as I followed her.
Colin was on the floor, leaning up against the couch. His eyes were closed and pasty white, and I thought he was dead. “What’s wrong?” I asked. She had found the wrong sister. She really needed Charlotte.
“It’s all the stress.”
“What stress?” I asked, softly. I held my breath. In the sanctuary of her own room, I envisioned her confession, that Colin had murdered Dr. Higgins in a PTSD-fueled rage and the two of them had been covering up the murder since.
Colin stirred and opened his eyes. “Hazel?” he called out.
“Yes, my love.”
“What happened?” he asked. He looked around, and appeared to be surprised to be on the floor. “What’s she doing here?” he asked it with less vitriol than I expected.