Maggie and Dyna peeked in, picking up pungent odors of gasoline and oil. But seeing nothing of interest there, they left and walked around to where the gravel road led. There, side by side, baking in the sun, were two dark blue vans.
“Oh-my-gosh! Is that it?”
“One of them is. As far as I can tell, anyway.” Maggie suppressed a shudder as she looked at them, and the memory of that dark shape looming up close to her own car rushed back to her. She took a deep breath, then went to examine the vans closely. There were scrapes and dents on both, but it was impossible to tell when they might have been acquired. She saw none of her car’s dark red paint on either van, but she noticed that one had been very recently washed. The windows of both were rolled down and keys hung from the ignition.
“These are both ripe for picking.” Maggie ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. “Anyone could walk over here and just take off with either one.” She glanced around and saw a door in the second building that looked like it led to an office. “Maybe somebody’s there who can tell us something,” she said, and led the way over to it.
The office was small, cluttered, and unoccupied. “Hello,” Dyna called out as they walked in. No one responded.
“Here’s something,” On the wall near the door Maggie found a sign-out sheet for the vans. One had been taken out at eight-fifteen that morning and returned at nine-thirty by a Mark Walker. After that the sheet was blank.
“Just our luck. Our murderer didn’t sign out his vehicle properly,” Maggie said with a rueful smile.
“Don’t you just hate it when they don’t follow the rules?” Dyna said.
“What are you doing in there?” A loud voice barked at them from outside. Dyna jumped, and Maggie swung around. She saw a tall, sinewy man charging towards the door and recognized Jack, the gardener she had spoken to about Eric. He didn’t have a patient smile on his face this time, but a challenging, angry scowl. Maggie lifted her chin. In ordinary circumstances she would have no right to be poking around here. But these were no ordinary circumstances.
“What are you doing in here?” he repeated as he stopped in the doorway.
“We were looking for a blue van, which we found, out there.”
“A van? What for?”
“I had a very close call this morning, driving down to Coopersburg. A blue van tried to push me off the road. I wanted to find it, and its driver.”
The anger on Jack’s face disappeared, his eyes suddenly showing worry and something else. Maggie wasn’t sure just what.
“You think it was one of our vans?”
“It’s possible. I can’t tell for sure. Do you know if anyone took one out about ten this morning?”
“I don’t know. I was busy putting in some new azaleas over on the other side of the hotel. What about…” He reached for the sign-out sheet.
“There’s nothing filled in for that time. Whoever took it didn’t leave tracks.”
Jack put both hands on his face and rubbed at his eyes. He looked very unhappy. “Bob Hill’s supposed to be here, watching things, but he’s out sick today.” He squinted in the direction of the gravel road. “You really think it was one of our vans?”
“Well, how many dark blue vans are there in this resort? We didn’t see any parked in the guest parking lots. And it was behind me very soon after I had left the hotel.”
“Did you report this to anyone?”
“Yes. The sheriff. He said he’ll look into it.”
“Good. I’d talk to Ms. Crawford about it, too. She was gone for a meeting this morning, but she might be back by now. She should know about this.” Jack’s expression said that ended the discussion, and he started to turn away.
“Wait. Could we talk a bit?”
“What.” Impatience was in his voice now. “I already told you I was busy somewhere else this morning.”
“I’m wondering about Eric Semple. Remember, we talked about him before?”
“Eric? What about him?”
“Do you know where he was about that time?”
Jack scratched his head. His mouth had turned down about as far as it could go. Maggie got the distinct impression he didn’t want to talk about Eric, that he was aching to get away from her. “I can’t say for sure. I sent him over to work on some hedges, but I don’t follow my helpers around to make sure they’re doing everything I tell them to do.”
“Was he out of your sight between ten and eleven?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Who watches the time? Look, I gotta go. I’m sorry about your accident, Miss. Maybe the sheriff will track it all down.”
Jack left them and walked into the tool storage area. They heard puttering noises, then the sound of a motor starting. Jack came chugging out on a riding mower wearing ear protectors and a grim expression. He looked determinedly straight ahead, away from them.
“Eric?” Dyna asked as they watched him go. “You think Eric might have been the one?”
“It’s just a guess. We’ll have to find out more. But did you notice Jack didn’t leap to Eric’s defense?”
Maggie gazed after the receding mower. “I think he might have his suspicions too.”
Maggie and Dyna headed back to the hotel, walking in silence for a while.
“At least we know for sure now that someone here at the Highview is involved,” Dyna said. “Rob could have run over and jumped in one of the vans by the time you were pulling out of the parking lot. That gravel road probably put him right in back of you on the hotel driveway.”
“But Eric works in maintenance, don’t forget. He would be more aware of the availability of the vans.”
“But why would Eric want to hurt you?”
Maggie shook her head but didn’t say anything. Something had caught her eye over to the side. She turned to see a figure some distance away walking rapidly toward the hotel. It seemed to Maggie from the angle of his route that he came from the maintenance buildings they had just left.
“Hello,” she called. The figure didn’t stop or turn around, but instead picked up his pace.
They watched for a moment, then Maggie said, “Isn’t that our waiter from this morning. Remember, Chuck?”
Dyna squinted. “Yeah, I think you’re right. What would he be doing here?”
“That’s what I’m wondering too.”
Too many questions. Too few answers. Maggie sighed. The analytical part of her brain had become weary. Looking ahead she caught sight of the hotel’s pool in the distance, its blue water glinting invitingly in the sun and realized how hot and tired she felt.
“How about taking some time off from our investigation and having a swim?”
Dyna’s eyes lit up in agreement, and they picked up their pace to get back to their rooms and change to their suits. Soon they were plunging into the cool water. Maggie swam laps while Dyna floated lazily on her back, soaking up the warmth of the sun on her face.
Maggie found the vigorous exercise relaxing, releasing pent-up tension she had barely been aware of, so intent had she been on the recent happenings. She swam for several minutes until she was out of breath, then pulled herself out of the pool and collapsed on a lounge chair.
The exhaustion felt good, and she didn’t want to think about murder and murderers for now. She didn’t want to think about her brother Joe worrying about her, or feel guilty at the thought of her mother, who still didn’t know what Maggie was involved in. She just wanted to rest and let her mind go blank. To gaze at the sky or the water, breathe in the flower-scented air, and pretend all was right with the world. For now.
***
CHAPTER 16
That evening, relaxed and refreshed, Maggie and Dyna were finishing a late dinner in the dining room. Few other tables were occupied, and the atmosphere was unrushed. Dyna, wearing a short denim skirt and T shirt tonight, pushed away a plate with the few remaining crumbs of her dessert, a rich cherry pie a’la mode, and groaned. “That just undid all my efforts in aerobics class this morning.” She gr
inned. “But it was worth it.”
“Why don’t you take the class again tomorrow morning? I’m going to drive down to Lori’s funeral.”
“Oh.” Dyna looked at Maggie with troubled eyes. “I know why you want to, but do you think it’s a good idea? I mean, driving down that road again?”
“I know, I’ve thought of that. But I talked to a couple at the pool this afternoon, the McManus’s. They’re planning to check out and leave just about the time I need to go. I asked them if I could follow them to the turn-off to Coopersburg. I didn’t want to upset them with the whole story so I just said something about having a terrible sense of direction.”
“Good idea.” Dyna’s face took on a faraway look. “Actually, you know, I have an awful sense of direction. I’m always getting lost.” She picked up her fork to lick the last few crumbs from it. “The worst time was when I drove home one night from New Jersey where some friends had moved. They had a, you know, house warming. Anyway, it was late, and I remember I was tired and kept turning up the radio to keep awake. So, I came down I-95, and I guess I missed a few signs ‘cause I thought I was on the Baltimore beltway, but somehow I had gone all the way down to the Washington beltway. There I was, driving around and around for half the night looking for my exit until I finally figured out where I really was.”
Maggie tried not to laugh out loud at her friend, but she couldn’t hold back a grin. “Well, they both go in circles, don’t they?”
“Exactly! I must have crossed the Wilson Bridge three times, before I realized it wasn’t the Key Bridge. I kept wondering what had happened to the toll booths.”
They had left the dining room and were strolling down the hallway. Sounds of country music drifted out of the lounge, livelier now, than it had been two nights ago, and Maggie glanced in as they came to it. She saw Rob seated at the bar alone, nursing a beer.
They passed the doorway and Dyna’s tale had moved on to the problems she had finding airports, and particularly the people she had gone to pick up. “My mom said she’d wait at the curb so I wouldn’t have to park, and it was windy and raining, and here I was….”
“Rob’s back there,” Maggie interrupted, “in the bar. This might be a good chance to talk to him.” She stopped, thinking for a moment. “I think I’d like to do it alone. Do you mind?”
“No-o,” Dyna said, throwing a nervous glance towards the bar’s doorway. “But how about I stay close by?”
“There’s no need,” Maggie assured her. “There are plenty of other people in the bar.”
Dyna looked unconvinced. “I could be out here, just walking around. I don’t mind.”
“Dyna, really. I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“Promise to stay there and not be lured into a midnight stroll or something?”
“Promise. Cross my heart and… well, anyway, I promise.”
“Okay, then. But call me as soon as you get back to your room, will you?”
Maggie nodded, and waited as Dyna turned back to the lobby, looking back once with an I-wish-you-weren’t-doing-this look on her face. Maggie grinned, then took a deep breath and walked into the lounge. There was an empty stool next to Rob, and she slid onto it.
“Hi.”
Rob looked over in surprise, and a smile instantly appeared. He wore shorts and a polo, and his sockless feet were in well-worn boat shoes. She noticed his eyes looked tired, and a little sad. She didn’t see any signs of guilt, or uneasiness at seeing her, though. Either he wasn’t the driver in that van, or he was amazingly cool about it.
“I saw you sitting here, and thought I’d say hello.”
“Glad you did. Can I get you something?”
“No, thanks. I just finished dinner.” The bartender, Dave, looked over in her direction, but she shook her head. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Could we move over to one of the tables where it’s quieter?”
“Sure,” he said, looking at her curiously. He picked up his glass and bottle and followed her over to a table some distance from the juke box and from other customers. “What’s up?” he asked as soon as they settled down.
“Well,” Maggie leaned her arms on the table wondering how to begin. “You’ll probably think this is none of my business, and you can tell me to butt out and I’ll completely understand. However, Eric Semple made some pretty nasty allegations about you the other day, and I just wondered if you’d like to clear them up.”
Rob’s face darkened, and his lips pressed together. “Eric! What the hell’s he been going around saying about me?” He said it with anger, but controlled anger, and Maggie felt encouraged to go on.
“Remember you told me about playing at Wimbledon? You never said exactly why you had to bow out. Eric implied that you had been in trouble with the police. Something about a girlfriend, and a fight, which became violent, and her bringing charges.” Maggie held her breath, waiting to see how Rob would react, what he would say. She realized she hoped he would explain it all, that there would be nothing at all to it.
Rob’s face hardened, and he looked up at the ceiling, then back at her. What he finally said blotted out all the other sounds of the lounge, as though a heavy, dark curtain had dropped around her. “How did he find out about that?”
“You mean it’s true?” Maggie’s voice had lowered to barely audible. From the juke box Reba McIntyre finished her song, and guitars twanged a final chord.
“Some of it.” Rob looked steadily into Maggie’s eyes. He took a deep breath. “There was a fight, but only a verbal one. I did not hit her as she claimed. There was trouble with the police because she tried to stir some up. She was a good-looking, spoiled brat of a sixteen-year old, a good tennis player, and my coach’s daughter.”
“Your coach’s daughter,” Maggie repeated, starting to understand.
“Right. Bad judgment on my part, but I was eighteen, and pretty full of myself at the time. Maybe I was as much of a brat as she was, I don’t know. But I do know we both had short fuses.” Rob took a drink from his glass, and gazed at it for a moment. Then he looked back up at Maggie.
“There were plenty of arguments between us, but I never hit her. The final one happened when I caught her smoking pot. I never could stand the thought of drugs. Even back then I knew that getting into drugs was throwing your life down the tubes.
So when I caught her using, I blew up.
“I tried to scare her, threatened to tell her father, whatever it took to get her to quit. She didn’t like that, couldn’t stand someone trying to control her, I guess, so she fought back, in her own way. After I left her, she made it look like she’d been beat up, showed up with bruises on her arms, a cut on her face, a fat lip. Don’t ask me how she did it - she must have been desperate and a little crazy. Anyway, her father - my coach - hit the roof and called the police. He wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say. His daughter was his perfect princess.”
A man and woman stood up at their table nearby, and Rob waited until they had walked by.
“There was bad publicity, and the tournament officials got in on the act. Suggested to me, oh so politely that it would be better for me to withdraw.” Rob let out a bitter laugh. “I think they meant better for them.”
He took a long swallow of his beer, and Maggie wished now she had ordered something to drink. Her mouth had become very dry. Rob’s story struck her as very believable. Or did she just want to believe it?
“Things just kind of spiraled downward from then on,” Rob continued. “My coach had a lot of pull. It’s amazing how many people believe half-truths and anything in print. And I guess I couldn’t handle it either. Just gave up after a while. And that was the end of my pro playing career.”
“What happened to your girlfriend?”
Rob took another drink from his beer and let out a heavy sigh. “She played a couple more years. Then I heard she checked into a re-hab place somewhere. Guess her father finally figured it out. Too late for me, though.”
Maggie looked acr
oss at Rob. “I’m sorry.”
Rob looked back a moment, then reached his hand out to cover hers and smiled. “Thanks. You’re probably the first person to listen to my side of the story with an open mind.”
Maggie smiled, and enjoyed the touch of his hand on hers. It was large, and covered hers easily, and made her feel warm and good. She slowly pulled hers away, however, reminding herself of one more thing she needed to ask him.
“I don’t want to get Eric in trouble with you, if you don’t mind. I mean, please don’t fire him because of what I told you.”
Rob scowled, but nodded. “He’s a total jerk, but I always knew that. He’ll probably take himself off to greener pastures sooner or later anyway, saving me the trouble.”
Maggie leaned back in her chair and smiled, planning to change the subject and wanting to sound as though she were simply lightening up the conversation, making social chit-chat. But it was much more than that to her. What Rob said next could make all the difference.
“By the way, after we bumped into each other on the patio this morning - when you were chasing after the twins? - Dyna said the hotel people were looking around for a Mr. Anderson. Something about a ten o’clock lesson with you. They seemed to have trouble locating him. Did he finally show up?” Charles’ words of how Rob had canceled that lesson at the last minute, just before she left for her near-fatal ride to the sheriff’s, played through Maggie’s head as she waited for his answer.
“Anderson?” Rob asked. “Oh, yeah.” He poured the rest of his beer into the glass slowly, watching it foam up against the side as he spoke. “No problem. Guy needs a lot of work on his forehand.”
***
CHAPTER 17
Mary Ellen Hughes - Maggie Olenski 01 - Resort to Murder Page 11