Mary Ellen Hughes - Maggie Olenski 01 - Resort to Murder

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  MAGGIE - I HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO SHOW YOU! AT THE TENNIS COURTS. COME MEET ME THERE RIGHT AWAY. - DYNA

  “Dyna! No!” Maggie gasped in horror. Would Dyna really be so foolish as to go to the tennis courts alone at this time of day? She looked at the window, at the rapidly darkening sky, and wanted to believe she wouldn’t. But she knew Dyna was an impulsive, emotions-over-thought person, and feared the worst. Maggie ran to the phone and punched in Dyna’s room number, hoping against hope that Dyna would pick up. When all she heard was endless rings, Maggie slammed the phone down and whirled around. Shoving the note into her pocket, she rushed out the door. Maggie had to get to her friend before anything terrible happened.

  She punched the elevator button and bounced impatiently, waiting for only a second, then turned and pushed through the stairway door, running down the stairs as rapidly as she could. She was still dressed in her funeral clothes, which included dress-flat shoes, not running shoes, and she had to hold onto the rail to keep from slipping on the smooth, uncarpeted surface.

  She reached the ground floor and hurried out an exit door, then stopped a moment to get her bearings. The door let her out at the left side of the hotel farthest from the restaurant and kitchen. The pool was also to her right, and the woods and tennis courts straight ahead. She looked around quickly for any sign of Dyna, hoping that perhaps she hadn’t gotten that much of a head start, but her hopes sank when she didn’t see that familiar, tousled blond head among the few, stray guests. Maggie took off for the path to the courts.

  Why did she go off alone? she cried to herself. What could have been so important that she couldn’t wait? She felt a drop or two of the rain that had threatened earlier, and slowed to catch her breath as she finally stepped into the woods on the mulched path.

  Her eyes strained to see in the dimmer light, still hoping to catch up with her friend, but the path took so many turns that she couldn’t see any great distance ahead. She thought of calling out, but an inner caution warned her not to advertise her presence too much. She hurried along, dodging branches hidden by shadows as best she could, slowly becoming enveloped in the deep silence of the woods.

  She had just taken a turn that showed more light up ahead, indicating she was close to the open space of the tennis area, when she heard a rustle in the trees next to her. Snapping her head to the left she saw a form step out of the darkness, and her breath caught in her chest. It was Eric Semple.

  “Teacher,” he said, as he stepped close to her. No toothpick dangled from his lips now. Maggie looked back at him, frozen. “What’s your hurry, hmm?” He grinned and stood only inches from her now. Maggie wondered wildly if calling for help would do any good. Was Dyna within hearing distance? Was anyone?

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  Maggie backed away from him, slowly. “What do you want?”

  “Gosh, I’m just out for a nice evening stroll, like you,” he answered, smirking. “Thought maybe we could take it together, you know, arm in arm.”

  “I… I’m meeting someone. I’m late.”

  “Teacher! I’m shocked. Now what would your principal say if he knew you were meeting someone in the woods.”

  “It’d be none of his business, just as it’s none of yours.” Some of Maggie’s fear subsided as her anger rose. She began to think Eric was simply up to his same stupid teasing. After all, he couldn’t know what she had just found out about him. She started to walk away.

  Eric grabbed her arm. “Hold on….” and Maggie turned to face him defiantly, to shake him off. Suddenly she heard a sound behind her and her hopes leaped up that help had come. She didn’t have a chance to find out. The last things she saw were Eric’s eyes widening as he looked past her. Then something rock-hard struck her head, lights exploded behind her eyes, and everything went black.

  ***

  Chapter 20

  Consciousness surfaced for a moment, and Maggie became aware of pain, motion, the musty smell of something covering her, and murmuring voices. She struggled to stay on that surface, to remember what had happened and think of where she was. Then she began bouncing and rocking, her aching head bumping against something hard, and blackness descended again.

  When she next awoke, she was lying on something hard and cold, the smelly cover was gone, and pain had spread throughout her body. It was dark and still. She strained her eyes and her ears. Slowly she made out outlines of a few large, dark shapes. And she heard a faint hissing sound

  She tried to move and found she couldn’t. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her ankles lashed together. Trussed like a chicken, she thought, aware of the ridiculousness, but she didn’t feel much like laughing. She struggled, however, to pull herself into a sitting position. It took several minutes of effort, interrupted by waves of dizziness and pain. Sweat broke out on her face which quickly evaporated into the chill air. Maggie’s stomach churned, adding to her misery, and she took several deep breaths, trying to control it.

  She sat up for several minutes, waiting for the dizziness to gradually diminish, then concentrated on focusing her eyes in the dark. Little by little she could see more of her surroundings, and she realized she was in an old barn. She could see slits of light, or rather of lesser darkness, between the boards that formed the walls. She couldn’t make out the large, indistinct shapes around her. There were odors of moldy hay and dampness, oil and old wood. She listened carefully and realized the hissing sound she heard was rain. The storm she had seen coming had arrived, covering any tracks of her abduction, she thought dismally.

  Something skittered against her leg, and she jerked her feet back sharply, almost knocking herself off balance and back down to a prone position. She fought hard to stay upright, and also to keep down feelings of panic. Think, Maggie, think, she ordered herself. Panic later, when there’s time. You’re alive, for now. Concentrate on keeping yourself that way.

  Easy for you to say, she answered herself. But to fight the rising panic she started quietly reciting the postulates of Euclid, something she had had her geometry students do countless times. “Postulate one: It is possible to draw a straight line from any point to any point. Postulate two: It is possible…” It began to work. By the time she ran through them all she had calmed down considerably and was able to focus her thoughts.

  How did I get here? was her first question. She thought hard, remembering facing Eric on the path, then a sharp blow on her head followed by blankness, broken briefly when she heard voices and felt motion. I must have been riding in something then, a truck, or a van. One of the blue vans?

  But Eric wasn’t the one who hit her, she realized. She had been facing him when it happened and was hit from behind. And he was looking past me, she remembered. He looked surprised. So who came up behind me? And whose was the other voice I heard later?

  Could it have been Rob? she wondered, and waves of a new kind of pain washed over her. Could Rob have been working with Eric, stealing from the hotel, perhaps to raise money for his own tennis operation? Or was talk of his future dream all just a lie? Was the explanation of his fight with the former girlfriend just another cover?

  Maybe his anger and shouting at Eric had been over stolen goods? Or maybe the anger was another cover-up? Questions without answers raced through her mind. Something, though, was missing. She couldn’t seem to shake her head clear enough to think of it right now. It hurt too much.

  She didn’t have the time to spend searching for it either. She was here alone and alive, for now. That could change at any moment. Obviously, the two who had put her here planned to return, to dispose of her at a more convenient time after alibis had been arranged. How soon that would be she had no way of knowing and therefore needed to work on her escape immediately.

  Suddenly she remembered Dyna. Where was Dyna! Had she been attacked as Maggie had? Was she alive? Horrifying visions of her friend swirled before her eyes. Maggie felt herself starting to lose it again and did another rapid recitation. “Common notion 1: Things w
hich are equal to the same thing are also equal to one another.” By the time she got to “Five: The whole is greater than the part,” she was again calm. And thinking more clearly.

  It was possible, she now realized, that Dyna hadn’t written that note at all. Maggie could have been lured to the woods by her attacker. Foolish as that made her feel, she sincerely hoped that was true and that Dyna was safely in her room right now, watching TV or sound asleep.

  “Dyna?” Maggie whispered fearfully, then raised her voice to call again. “Dyna? Are you here?” There was no answer, and Maggie wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.

  She struggled with her bonds. They didn’t feel overly tight. Possibly whoever tied them was in a hurry or thought she would stay unconscious. However, wiggling and twisting her hands as much as she could still didn’t loosen the ropes enough to release her.

  What were her chances of finding something sharp to cut the ropes on, here in the dark? Memory of the skittery thing came to her and the thought of sliding around touching everything she came across brought shivers. However, thoughts of the alternative, to sit and wait for someone to come back and kill her moved her to action, and she struggled to get herself on her feet.

  She couldn’t do it. The combination of the ropes and her dizziness kept her from getting enough balance to stand upright. She needed something to brace herself.

  Maggie slid, inch by inch, along the packed dirt floor as best she could, pushing with her feet and sliding back with her hips. After several minutes and much effort she managed to reach the closest wall, breathing heavily, and pushed herself tightly against it. At first it seemed to take more strength than she had, but slowly she got her feet under her, and she started to rise up, bit by bit. She was almost halfway up when her feet, still in the leather-soled flat shoes, slipped and flew out from under her. She landed on her backside with a painful thump. Her head swam and throbbed and she waited for it to clear, fighting back tears of frustration.

  She tried again. This time, by getting her feet more firmly under her and digging the edges of her shoes into the dirt, she managed to keep her footing, and in a few minutes she was upright. Panting and sweating from the effort, she waited, resting and thinking of what to do next.

  She knew she couldn’t leave the wall or she’d fall. She decided to move along it, using a combination of small foot movements and hops, aiming for the closest dark shape in hopes it might be something with a sharp edge. She came to a corner, and as she worked her way around, her face hit a large cobweb. She let out a screech, jerking back, sputtering and rubbing her face on her shoulders. Without hands she couldn’t get it all off, so she tried her best to forget it and not think about spiders crawling in her hair.

  She also hoped there was no one outside the barn to hear her yelp. The rain made that less likely. If she were being guarded, they would certainly be indoors, not out, she thought, and would have made their presence known by now.

  When she finally reached the dark shape she had seen from her starting point, her disappointment was keen. It was only an old wooden table. No pointed edges and no knives left handily within reach. From the feel of the dust and grit on it, it hadn’t been touched by anyone for quite a while. This barn must be forgotten and unused for years, she thought, an ideal place for stashing inconveniently nosy investigators.

  Joe was right. She should have left the hotel right away. This wasn’t at all like the things she used to get into when they were kids. The combination of her disappointment with the table and the thought of Joe brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away and swallowed several times. No time for that. Tears later, work now.

  Maggie returned to her slow, painful inching along the wall. She was just starting to get into a smooth rhythm when something jabbed her leg. Something pointy, but not sharp enough to break her skin. She bent down slowly to feel it with her hands. It was the head of a large nail jutting out of a wooden barn slat. She tugged at it, but it was seated firmly, perhaps about half its length.

  Maggie sank down on her knees, and moved her ropes over the nail head. Perhaps she could loosen and untie the knots by hooking it through them somehow? With her hands tied behind her, it all had to be done by touch. She pictured her abductors coming back for her and started to panic again, thinking this was impossible, there wasn’t enough time, then pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on the task.

  She tried it, over and over, feeling the nail slide over the ropes, failing to catch a loop, controlling her frustration. After dozens of attempts, close to giving up, finally the nail caught. She could feel the knot slowly pull open, just a little. The nail slipped out, but she was able to catch it back in again. The loop grew bigger. Again and again she worked at it, and gradually her efforts were rewarded. First one loop, then another, and finally the ropes pulled loose from her wrists. She had done it!

  Maggie quickly turned to the ropes around her ankles and had them untied in moments. She rubbed her ankles and her wrists, exulting, then rose and crept to the door. All she could hear was the soft, steady fall of rain. She peered through several cracks and saw no truck or van, and no human shapes.

  Maggie’s impulse was to get out of there, fast, but instead she turned back to the inside of the barn. She had to make sure her friend really wasn’t there before she left.

  She felt her way slowly around the remaining walls and through the inner section of the barn, now able to use her hands, checking carefully in the dark for a human shape, listening for any human sound.

  Maggie stumbled over bits of wood, and came upon one large dark object she tentatively identified as a rusty field tiller. She found a dried and crackling tarp which covered nothing but dirt, and scraped her skin on a couple of old broken barrels and baskets. She examined every inch of the place before she returned to the door, satisfied finally that she was indeed alone.

  She checked the outdoor area again through the cracks. There were no signs of life. Her eyes and ears told her it was safe to venture out. But in her shaken state of mind it still took all her courage to open the barn door and step outside. She couldn’t overcome the feeling that any moment something would come crashing down on her head, or strong hands would grab her.

  When they didn’t, and she was outside of the barn, rain falling on her face and only the dark shapes of trees to be seen nearby, Maggie took a deep breath, turned towards the trees, and ran.

  She had been walking for hours, it seemed. The barn she had escaped from was apparently out in the middle of nowhere. She saw no lights, no houses, only endless fields and trees. She had no way of knowing if she had been wandering in circles, possibly missing a lifesaving road by only yards. At least the rain had now stopped, but she was still soaked and shivering, and she had more than once stepped out of one of her flat pumps as it stuck in mud, having then to search for it in the dark.

  She felt herself coming close to exhaustion, and had to fight the impulse to curl up against a tree and sleep. After the first thirty minutes or so, she had stopped looking back fearfully for pursuers, stopped listening for running feet or the sound of a motor. Her only concern now was finding help.

  As she trudged, pushing herself step by step over acres of field, she thought of Lori’s murder, going over all the information she had found out, and slowly discovering things she had overlooked. Missing pieces became visible, one by one, and a picture began to take shape in her mind. The moon slowly edged out from behind concealing clouds, shining its light in hidden corners and Maggie felt the truth edging out similarly, bit by bit.

  Gradually, she realized who it was that had attacked her in the woods, and who had killed Lori and probably the other two Highview workers. It was not with any feeling of triumph, however, that she came to her conclusion, but rather with a feeling of deep sadness. She almost wished she didn’t know. Almost.

  Maggie came to a cornfield, and skirting it, found herself suddenly on a narrow road. Although her hopes rose that she might now be able to fl
ag down a motorist, none appeared, and the only sound she heard was the chirp of crickets and tree frogs.

  She followed the road for a while, limping now on sore, bleeding feet, hugging herself for warmth, when, coming over a hill, she saw a small building up ahead, its white walls reflecting the moonlight. Excitement leaped up until she realized the building was totally dark, obviously vacant. Still, something about it seemed hopeful as her memory stirred. Something looked familiar.

  She was staring at it as she walked closer, searching for any signs of life, when a dark shape, about the size and height of a small car, caught her eye to the right, in a clearing several feet from the road.

  Maggie stopped, startled, then puzzled, trying to identify the shape. It appeared, at first, to be a fallen tree, lying at about a thirty degree angle to the ground, but with no sprouting branches. There were two round shapes at its low end, wheel-like. What was it? She took a few tentative steps toward it, then suddenly laughed and ran the rest of the way over to it. She ran a hand over its painted surface and rested a cheek against it.

  A cannon. It was a Civil War cannon. She was at Antietam.

  She turned toward the white building. Dunker Church. The first stop on the driving tour she had taken this same day. That meant she wasn’t very far from the Visitor’s Center. It must be right there, beyond that cluster of trees up ahead. With the pay phone out front. She could call for help! Maggie was so happy she nearly wept. Instead, she limped back to the road and put her remaining ounce of energy into walking those last few yards to rescue.