Roses Are Red; He's Dead (A Mellow Summers Paranormal Mystery Book 9)

by Janet McNulty

  Perturbed, I sat up, hoping that it would go away. The same sound happened a third time, but more insistent. Moaning, I stood up and approached the door. Thinking that maybe I should let it go, I almost turned away, but the same sound rattled the door for a fourth time. I opened it. A man leaned back in a chair—his head lolled to the side as though he were asleep—in the hallway. Something was wrong.

  “Sir?”

  No response.

  “Sir?” I said, moving closer, while hugging the cotton towel to my body.

  Eerie silence. Something was definitely wrong and that prickly feeling you get on the back of your neck struck me.

  “Sir?” I touched his shoulder. He flopped over and crashed to the floor, unmoving.

  In a bit of a panic, I ran to the front desk, my bare feet slapping the wood floor, while I clutched my towel. “He’s dead!”

  Heads turned in my direction as I entered the lobby area as a group of girls walked in.

  “You need to get some paramedics or something,” I said, breathless. “There’s a dead guy back there.”

  “Ma’am, you need to calm down,” said the lady at the desk.

  “I am calm,” I said, “but there is guy in the back and he is not breathing.” I stopped speaking as I realized that all I wore was a towel, and there were an awful lot of people in the lobby staring at me. I wrapped my towel tighter.

  “Call security,” said the gal at the front desk.

  Within moments, security showed up and I led them to where I had found the body and stopped short. It had gone. Nothing was there; not one sign of a body having been there.

  “Where is he?” asked one of the security guards.

  “He was right here,” I said, moving closer.

  Everyone looked at me as though I was crazy.

  “I swear!” I had a throwback to the Christmas parade a year earlier, where I witnessed a woman get murdered and no one believed me because we found no body. What was going on here? I know I saw a man sitting in that chair and he was anything, but alive. “I’m not lying!”

  “No one said you were,” said one of the men present, “but there is no one here.”

  “I know there was a man in that chair. I approached him when he didn’t respond and then he fell over.”

  “Are you sure he wasn’t just sleeping?”

  “I know a dead body when I see one.” The moment those words exited my mouth, I wished I hadn’t said them. The guard’s eyebrows raised. “Look, he wasn’t breathing.”

  “We’ll search the premises, but is it possible that you imagined it?”

  I stood my ground. Not likely.

  “People here sometimes nap and when they wake up, they think something happened when it didn’t.”

  Okay, so I had been dozing a little, but that wouldn’t explain the body. Something didn’t add up. “Perhaps,” I relented, knowing I was not getting anywhere with those surrounding me. “I’m going to get dressed.”

  I went back into the room and put on my clothes. So much for a relaxing massage. As I reentered the lobby, everyone stared at me. They must have thought I was nuts; even I wondered if I was, but I know I hadn’t imagined it. Security reiterated that they found no body and that there was no cause for alarm. Just the mistake of someone who had had too much of the perfumed oils. Mortified, I left, walking back to the cabin, hoping no one saw me and that I didn’t get us kicked out. That would have been a great way to repay Greg’s hard work on this romantic getaway.

  “Hey,” said Greg as I walked through the door. “How’d it go?”

  “Not good,” I replied.

  “Oh?”

  “I saw a dead body an—”

  “Oh, no!”

  “It’s not like I set out to find these things. But the guy was gone by the time help arrived.”

  “I thought he was dead.”

  “He was.”

  “But dead people don’t…”

  “Get up and walk away, I know. They said I imagined it and now everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

  “I don’t think you are,” Greg hugged me.

  “Maybe I did imagine it,” I mumbled.

  “They didn’t find anyone, right?”

  “No.”

  “So, it could have been a trick of your mind. You have been a bit stressed lately and sometimes the mind plays tricks when it’s tired.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Anyway, I got us reservations at the gourmet restaurant here. They are at seven.”

  I kissed him. “You’re too good to me.”

  “I know I am.” Greg wrapped me in his muscular arms and held me close. “How about we visit the hot tub they have here and work up an appetite.”

  As much as I wanted to, finding that man at the spa, and then having him disappear, rattled me a little, besides piquing my curiosity. Dead bodies don’t just vanish into thin air and I wanted to know why this one had.

  “Rain check?” I said. “I think I need to get some fresh air. And it will give me a chance to find some interesting things for us to do tomorrow.”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve ghost hunting.”

  “It won’t.” I wasn’t planning on finding any ghosts. I just wanted to make certain that I hadn’t imagined the man at the spa.

  I wandered around on the deck past the occupied lounge chairs as people lay in them, expecting to get a tan even though it was still winter. Still marveling at the how they managed to keep the outside deck and patio are so warm, I examined one of the floor panels.

  “You lose something?” a woman asked me.

  I looked up, imagining how stupid I looked, crouched on my hands and knees, running my fingers over the smooth deck floor. “Yeah,” I said, “but it seems to have disappeared.”

  “Oh? What was it? Maybe I can help you find it?”

  I rose to my feet, brushing my hands on my jeans. “No, that’s okay. It was only an earring—costume jewelry. Nothing special.”

  “Better that than some expensive ring your boyfriend got you.”

  I gave the woman a quizzical look. She shook her dirty-blonde hair, allowing it to brush her shoulders with each wave.

  “My boyfriend bought me a very expensive ring—diamond, you know—and I accidentally flushed it down the toilet. So embarrassing!”

  “That stinks,” I said.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” replied the woman, bunching her cashmere wrap around her shoulders.

  “So are you here with your boyfriend?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that’s him over there.” She pointed at a man wearing a white, turtleneck sweater and sunglasses, getting two drinks from the outdoor bar. His chiseled jaw screamed gorgeous and his jet black hair complimented the woman’s blonde. “Patrick!”

  The man smiled and walked over, while dodging the oblivious crowd. I had to commend him on not spilling a single drop of their drinks as he navigated the crowd and before reaching us.

  “This is Patrick,” said the woman, “my other half. And I’m Aimie.”

  “Mel,” I said.

  “Well, Mel, nice to meet you. Oh, look it rhymes!”

  We chuckled at that. People were always making rhymes with my name.

  “Are you here alone?” asked Patrick.

  “No,” I replied, “Greg, my boyfriend, is in our cabin, resting. I just wanted to get some fresh air and explore a little bit.”

  “This place is amazing, isn’t it?” said Aimie. “Here we are in the middle of February and we’re not even wearing coats. I think it’s great how they manage to keep this deck heated so you can enjoy yourself.”

  “What about that grass over there?” added Patrick. “Bet you never thought you would see that in winter.”

  “Not normally,” I said.

  “We should sit down,” Aimie suggested.

  “Yeah, here,” said Patrick, handing her a drink. “Do you want one?” he asked me.

  “No, I’m fine,” I said. Before I knew it, the other drink had been shoved int
o my hand.

  “There are some chairs over there,” said Patrick. “You two go get them and take the drinks. I’ll go get another.”

  Aimie and I did as Patrick had suggested, not that we needed much persuading. We found three lounge chairs and moved them closer together, forming a circle. I sank into the white cushions and marveled at how soft it was. Normally, when you sit in a lounge chair, you can still feel the bars through the cushions, but not on this one. Its pillow must have been three times as thick, and ten times more comfortable. Patrick came back within minutes with another drink—the same kind as Aimie’s and mine—in his hand.

  “Is this your first time here?” asked Aimie.

  “Yes,” I said. “Greg planned the trip for us as a getaway vacation. We had both been working hard lately and needed a break.”

  “This is the place to do it,” said Patrick.

  “This is our second stay,” added Aimie.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Our first visit here was great,” said Aimie, “but we felt like we didn’t get as much out of it as we could. So we came back.”

  “Best decision we ever made,” said Patrick. “There is so much to do here.”

  “Tell me about.” I leaned closer. “I am trying to come up with some activities for Greg and I.”

  “Well, for starters,” said Aimie, “there is the ‘Lover’s Hiking Trail’.”

  “More of a nickname,” chuckled Patrick, “but it does seem to live up to it. There are a lot of out of the way places it takes you to.”

  “Places where you and your boyfriend can be totally alone,” Aimie said with a hint of scandal in her voice. “There is also the sauna. They have individual stalls for couples, and don’t worry, they’re soundproof.” She winked at me.

  “And,” said Patrick, “there is a town only a quarter of a mile from here. They have a wonderful restaurant there that serves real Indian food; I mean, from India. The owner is a marvelous gentleman who loves entertaining couples.”

  “Tomorrow there’s a couple’s yoga,” said Aimie. “You should come!”

  “Couple’s yoga?” I said.

  “Uh-huh. They do all sorts of couple’s things around here. In the morning, they have yoga, in the evenings, they have karaoke—oh, you gotta come to that. They also have live band concerts sometimes, star gazing, and they always have places you can go to be alone.”

  “I just might take you up on that yoga,” I said. Movement in the corner of my eye made me glance to my right. Standing in a doorway, was the same man I had seen in the spa, except he looked a bit transparent.

  “Something wrong?” asked Aimie.

  I jerked out of my internal musing and realized that I had been staring at the same doorway for over a minute. “Fine. Everything’s fine. I just thought I saw something, that’s all.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, I better finish my walk and get back to Greg,” I said. I fiddled with my empty glass, unsure of where to put it.

  “Here,” Patrick took it from me and held it in the air. Within seconds, a man in a white outfit took it. “See? They don’t want anyone to have to do too much work around here.”

  I smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Looking forward to it,” said Aimie.

  I left the two of them and hurried over to the doorway, but the man had gone. I almost stopped when I stepped through it and into a room the size of a dining hall with a humongous fireplace in the center—complete with the dancing flames—and plush sofas and chairs surrounding it. High, vaulted ceilings stretched above me with triangular windows that let in the sunlight. A chandelier of antlers hung from the rafters, releasing a soft glow.

  A lump on one of the couches caught my attention. I moseyed over to it, thinking that maybe someone had left a blanket behind, or had fallen asleep; it was warm and cozy. As I neared the lump, something didn’t feel right. Once again, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and the sensation that I was not going to like what I found struck. The lump came into view and I realized that it wasn’t a lump at all, but the same man whom I had found in the spa. I looked around. I was the only one in the room.

  “Sir?” I said. “I think you need to wake up.”

  Nothing. No snoring even; another telltale sign that something was amiss. “Uh, sir, this isn’t funny.”

  Still no answer. I reached out to shake him away, but jerked my hand back as I remembered the incident in the spa. With great hesitation, I summoned the courage to shake him. As though determined to repeat what had happened earlier that day, the man fell over, his arms flopping out to the side as his head rolled to an unnatural position. I jumped back. It was the same man, and he was not breathing.

  Turning in circles, I searched for anyone who might be able to help me, but found no one. I stood in the room, staring at the dead man before me. I knew I should go get someone, but it didn’t work out so well the first time. Just to make certain that he was really dead, and not sleeping, I nudged him with my foot. Still no response.

  I ran outside. The moment I opened the door, I flagged down the first person I saw. “Hey, there’s…” I stopped. I had glanced back at the sofa and the body had gone with no trace of having ever been there.

  “May I help you, ma’am?” asked the waiter I had flagged down.

  “No,” I said, puzzled as to what had just happened. “No, I forgot what I wanted, but perhaps you could tell me where the sauna is.”

  “Yes, it’s down that way and to your left. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  I looked back at the couch where I had seen the man, but it was empty. Confused, and a bit unnerved, I headed back to the cabin. The sun had sunk low in the sky and it would get dark at any minute. I still needed to shower and did not wish to be late for Greg’s dinner plans. Maybe they would help me forget about this latest incident.

  Chapter 3

  The restaurant Greg had made reservations at was near the main part of the resort. I had to give him props for this. Not only was it an extremely nice place to eat an extravagant meal, with all of the fancy dishes one could imagine, but the calm atmosphere made me forget all about the spa and Mr. Not-So-Alive. A small lamp rested in the center of each covered table with an embroidered table cloth; the embroidery consisted of leaves and flowers woven together in small spirals along the hemline. Soft music played throughout the dining area.

  The hostess seated us at a center table. I couldn’t stop looking around at the décor. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” said the hostess.

  “Thank you,” said Greg.

  I looked at the menu and almost gawked at the prices. “Greg, how can we afford this?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I have spent the last several weeks saving up for this. Trust me. It’s all taken care of.”

  I gave him a doubtful look. “You know you don’t have to impress me.”

  “Of course I do,” said Greg. “You’re the super sleuth that solves mysteries ghosts can’t solve on their own.”

  “Now you’re just trying to flatter me.”

  “Is it working?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Good evening. My name is Matherson and I will be your server this evening. May I start you off with some wine?”

  “Yes,” said Greg, “we’ll have your house wine.”

  “An excellent choice. Are you two ready to order, or do you need another moment?”

  “I’d like your roast duck,” I said. My stomach growled right then and I was certain that everyone heard it. “With the mashed potatoes and broccoli.”

  “And you, sir?” said the waiter to Greg.

  “I’ll have your prime rib.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  “With the baked potato and creamed corn,” said Greg.

  “I will put this in and your wine will be out shortly.”

  “So, Mr. Romantic, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” I asked.

  �
�They are having a couples hike tomorrow. Thought maybe we’d go there and figure out the rest later.”

  “Good thinking.”

  The waiter arrived with our wine. He poured two glasses and stuck the bottle in an ice bath on our table. I had to admit that the wine tasted good—I mean really good. It had a fruity flavor, but not overpowering, which I liked.

  I reached over to grab a breadstick when my glass of wine fell over, spilling red liquid all over the table and the floor. A damp, red splotch coated a portion of my dress, which irritated me. Greg and I scrambled with our napkins to wipe up the mess, but we ended up making it worse. Our waiter rushed over with towels to sop up the spilt wine.

  “Let me get that for you,” he said as he tried to clean up the mess.

  I couldn’t believe that the wine had spilled. It seemed a bit strange that it had as I hadn’t even touched the glass.

  “Is there a place where I can clean up?” I asked.

  “Yes, the restrooms are right over there.”

  I excused myself and went to the ladies’ room. It had a sitting area that you had to pass through in order to get to the bathroom part. Using a bunch of paper towels and water, I tried, though with little success, to clean the wine out of my dress. Every effort I made just seemed to make the stain worse. Realizing that nothing I did would help the situation, I decided to just tough it out and spend the evening in a wine-stained dress. No point in running back to the cabin to change.

  A scuffling noise sounded outside the bathroom door. I opened it and peeked out into the sitting area. A man sat on the couch, and he looked familiar.

  “Excuse me,” I said, “I think you’re in the wrong room.”

  No response. Déjà vu hit me.

  “Uh,” I tried again, “this is the ladies’ room. The men’s is down the hall.”

  Still no response. An eerie feeling that I had been in this situation before filled me. Not again. I really didn’t need this again.

  “Hey,” my tone grew more forceful as I approached him, “you need to leave.”

  Oh, yeah, he was unresponsive. Knowing I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself, I reached out and poked him. He fell over, his face turning towards me and I recognized him as the man I had found in the spa and the lounge. I ran out of the bathroom.