Death in a Beach Chair

by Valerie Wolzien

  The Henshaws acted as one, moving up the stairs as quickly as their “young” legs could carry them.

  “What do you know?” Susan asked.

  “What’s happened?” was Jed’s question.

  “I know that you’re going to need my help here. Why don’t we find someplace to sit down and talk-preferably in the shade. In all the excitement, I’m not sure I applied sunscreen evenly before I left my cottage this morning.”

  “There are some umbrellas leaning up against the wall over there,” Jed said. “I could find James and ask him to set some up for us.”

  “Oh, my. You could try, but I imagine James is somewhere with the rest of the staff, gossiping about this horrible thing. He’s one of the best of the staff, but under the circumstances, I think we will have to fend for ourselves.” She looked Jed up and down and then turned to Susan. “Perhaps you could ask your husband to bring us an umbrella or two.”

  “Of course. Jed…”

  “I’d be happy to set up an umbrella for you both, but then, perhaps, I should go make those phone calls we were discussing.” He looked at his wife, and Susan realized that he had decided she was better off dealing with this woman alone.

  “That’s a good idea,” she agreed. “In fact, why don’t you go do that and… and we can go over to the restaurant, sit in the shade, and we can talk there.”

  “Better yet, we’ll go back to my cottage, order room service, and sit on the porch. Number 16 with a seagull by the door, down by the breakwater. Your husband can find us there if he needs to.”

  Susan couldn’t think of any reason to refuse. “You’ll let me know if Kathleen needs me, or there’s anything else I can do, won’t you?” she asked her husband pointedly.

  “Sure,” he agreed, hurrying off.

  Susan suspected he had missed the point. She was stuck talking with this woman whether she liked it or not.

  TEN

  “Now, I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Rowan Parker. Most people call me Ro and you should, too.”

  “I’m Susan Henshaw, but you seem to know that already.” Despite Ro’s previous statements, she was no frailer than Susan, and moved quickly over the cobblestone walkway toward her cottage.

  “I make it my business to learn the names of all guests the very day they arrive. My husband says I’m nosy, but I’m just interested in the people around me. And, over the years, you wouldn’t believe the fascinating people I’ve met here.”

  “So you’ve been here before,” Susan said, following Ro up the steps to her place. The cottages at this end of the resort were comprised of two floors. Ro headed for the stairs on the far side.

  “There’s an intercom upstairs we can use to call for food. Damn inconvenient-we have to climb up and down a dozen times a day-but what can you do?” she said, starting up the stairs. “And, yes, to answer your question, this is our fourteenth year here. My husband likes continuity. I’m always suggesting we try something new, but he says when you like something you stick to it. He has a point, of course. Best not to be disappointed when you’re on vacation.

  “Sit down and I’ll order us something to drink,” she continued as they reached the second floor. “It’s foolish to risk dehydration in the tropics.”

  “Thanks,” Susan murmured, looking around. “This is fantastic,” she said honestly.

  “Yes, the large cottages are quite roomy, and, of course, the view from the balcony is incomparable.” Ro nodded toward the open plantation shutters, which revealed a second-story porch facing the sea. “Go on out and have a seat. I’ve gotta use the little girl’s room, and I’ll be right with you.”

  Susan wandered onto the porch and sank down in one of the pair of batik-covered wicker lounges. A substantial glass-topped trunk of woven straw was the only other furniture. A couple of back issues of The New Yorker and Bon Appétit had been flung down beside a worn paperback thriller. On the other lounge a pigskin binocular case lay open, containing what Susan suspected were very high-powered spyglasses. She was still staring at them when Ro returned.

  “Bird-watching,” Ro stated flatly, seeing Susan’s interest. “My husband says it relaxes him. Can’t imagine why watching a bunch of flittery little birds would relax anybody, but you never really know with people, do you? Even if you’re married to them, you never really do know.”

  Susan agreed that this was true and then tried to change the topic. “You seemed… at least, I thought you knew something about Allison’s murder.”

  Ro moved the binoculars and sat down across from Susan. “I know quite a bit about Allison. And some of it just might have to do with someone killing her.”

  “Oh, you should tell me. I…” Susan hesitated. She didn’t want to sound foolish, but decided she had no real alternative but to go on. “I have helped the police solve a few murders in the past.”

  “That’s what I understand. That’s one of the reasons I came to you when I heard about the murder.”

  “How did you know about-about what I’ve done?” Susan asked.

  “Why, Allison herself told me about it just the other day when we were sitting around the pool.”

  “Allison told you?”

  “Yes, she said that you had come up with the identity of a murderer when the police had been quite unable to do so, and done it more than once. I must say, that from what she was saying, Hancock, Connecticut, must be a terribly dangerous place to live-so many murders! Is it very near New York City, dear?”

  “Not really.” Susan didn’t waste any time defending her hometown. She knew exactly how close her upper-class affluent suburb was to New York City; it was nearly in another world. The New York Times didn’t report on the things that happened within Hancock’s confines unless a famous or infamous person was involved. And Susan didn’t know any celebrities-either dead or alive. If Allison had known what had been going on in Hancock, Connecticut, in the years since her sister had died, she had made an effort to do so.

  “Well, Allison made living there sound very exciting.”

  “But Allison-” Susan didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t know this woman at all. She should be more careful about what she said. “What did she say about Hancock?”

  “Oh, that’s not important right now, is it, dear? What’s important now is keeping your friend out of jail. I must admit that while we have done extensive sightseeing on the island, we’ve never visited the jail, but this is a poor island. They don’t educate their children beyond age ten. I cannot imagine that their expenditures on prison facilities are anything like adequate.”

  “Jerry would never kill anyone,” Susan insisted.

  “I’m sure you’re right, dear. That’s why I felt it so important that we talk immediately. You see, I think we should get our stories straight.”

  “Our stories straight? I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course, you don’t. How could you? Let me begin at the beginning. You see, I have insomnia.”

  “So…”

  “So I don’t want to bother my husband. Burton gets so cranky when he doesn’t get his eight hours a night. At home, I just go downstairs to our den and turn on the TV. Some of those shows advertise very interesting products, I find.”

  “But you can’t do that here,” Susan guessed.

  “That’s absolutely true.” Ro beamed as though Susan had made a deduction that would have made Sherlock Holmes proud. “I can’t do that here, so while we’re on vacation, I get up and sit out here. I have a battery-powered light so I can read my books or magazines-I always bring along all the reading material that I get at home and have no time to read-and I look around, as well.”

  Susan glanced down at the water. She was pretty sure she knew what was coming. “You were here the night Allison was killed,” she guessed.

  “Yes. I was.”

  “Did you see her?” Susan asked, leaning forward.

  “I saw a few people…” Ro didn’t finish her sentence.
r />   “I went out on the pier for a while,” Susan said. “Did you see me?”

  “I’m glad you brought that up,” Ro said approvingly. “Yes, in fact, I did.”

  “Who else?” Susan decided to ignore the possibility that this woman thought she was the murderer.

  “Well, the place was pretty busy that night. Let me think. James and one of the kitchen workers were walking on the beach when I came out. A girlfriend, not one of his many relatives who work here, I think, from the way they were holding hands. They’re not supposed to use the facilities for their own purposes, of course, but at night, Lila isn’t around to keep her staff up to snuff.

  “After a minute I saw your friend Jerry. He was walking with someone back and forth in front of his cottage. Then, when James and his girlfriend came up from the beach, Jerry and his companion hurried out to the gazebo. They were there for quite a while. Then one of them-I couldn’t see which one-came back alone. The other stayed out there.”

  “In the gazebo.”

  “I assume so. To be honest, I was feeling a bit peckish and went back inside to see if I could find something to eat. We keep a stash of fruit and pastries downstairs for when the kitchen is closed. You must help yourself if you’re hungry in the middle of the night.”

  “How long were you inside?” Susan asked, ignoring the suggestion. Just what she didn’t need-more food.

  “Certainly not more than five minutes. Very little could have happened in that time.”

  Susan didn’t agree with that; she could even imagine an improbable situation where everyone in every cottage exchanged places in those five minutes. But she didn’t share her thought. “So when you came back,” she prompted.

  “That’s when I saw you leave your cottage and walk out on the pier.”

  “And did you see me return, as well?”

  “Yes. I could see you, you understand, but I couldn’t hear you or any conversation you might have had with anyone out there.”

  “I didn’t talk with anyone,” Susan said honestly. “I wasn’t even sure who, if anyone, was out there at the same time I was.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Susan assured her. “I thought-well, I assumed, I really didn’t think about it-that I was alone, but I did notice some noises. To be honest, I thought I might be interrupting a couple who was out there… ah, making out.”

  “Oh, yes, that little gazebo is a favorite spot for romantic trysts.” Ro glanced over at the binoculars lying beside her, and Susan wondered if birdlife was the only thing Ro’s husband spied on. “I gather you were too polite to look over and see who was there?”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “And naturally you had no idea Allison would be found there less than eight hours later.”

  “Exactly.” Susan frowned. “I can’t remember the last time I saw her alive, to be honest. Not that I knew who she was.”

  “My goodness. She said she had changed a lot, but I didn’t really believe her. You know how it is. You dye your hair a shade lighter and think everyone you know will notice, but, in fact, the only person who knows-or cares-is you.”

  “She had done a whole lot more than dye her hair,” Susan said. “She had lost about forty pounds. Her hair was a completely different color, and long and straight rather than short and curly. She dressed differently. She had contact lenses. She might have even had cosmetic surgery. She looked familiar, but I never realized who she was.”

  “Was she much more attractive than when you knew her?” Ro asked.

  “There was no comparison. She used to be… well, not hideous or anything, but rather plain-homely if you want the truth. And yesterday… well, she was smashing!”

  “She had a very interesting theory, and from what you say, she was living proof of it.”

  “What theory?”

  “She said you lived the first forty years of your life in the body your genetic makeup decreed, but once you turned forty, your appearance depended on how hard you worked at it.”

  Susan was silent for a moment. “I never thought about it like that, but it’s probably true. The funny thing is, I never would have thought that Allison cared about her appearance. She always looked so dowdy and dull.”

  “Those are two words I certainly wouldn’t have applied to the Allison I knew.” Ro leaned closer and lowered her voice as though about to convey a dirty secret. “I’m positive she saw the plastic surgeon more than once.”

  “Do you know if she was here alone?” Susan asked, wondering if Allison had a man in her life these days.

  “Yes. She told me she was alone the evening we met. I was a little concerned. A gorgeous single woman can cause a lot of mayhem in a place like this. I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes.”

  “What do you mean? What happened?”

  “Well, naturally not everyone comes here with a husband or what everyone these days calls a significant other. But this isn’t the type of resort that appeals to swinging singles looking for a vacation pickup. There are lots of those places available. But every once in a while someone comes here looking for a holiday fling. The second year we were here-or was it the third?-no, I’m pretty sure it was the second-there was a woman who damn near caused a divorce when she set her cap for a married man.”

  “That really doesn’t sound like Allison,” Susan said.

  “Perhaps not, but there aren’t many men who didn’t look up when she walked by in one of those tiny bikinis she wore.”

  “No, I guess not.” Susan thought for a moment. “Not counting last night, when did you last see Allison?”

  Ro frowned. “You should remember that I didn’t identify Allison as one of the people I saw last night. In fact, if anyone asks, I wouldn’t be able to tell them if your friend’s companion last night was male or female.”

  “That’s interesting,” Susan said, noting that this could be the most important thing she had heard so far. “But what I’m wondering is when you last saw her here-just walking around or whatever.”

  “That’s easy. We had lunch together yesterday. And she was sitting at the bar having a rum punch last night when Burt and I went in before dinner.”

  “Was she alone?”

  “Yes, but I must tell you that I got the impression that she was waiting for someone.”

  “What did she do that gave you that impression?”

  “She was looking over her shoulder at everyone who came in. She seemed rather nervous.”

  “Do you know who she was meeting?” Susan asked.

  “No, we left before anyone joined her, I’m afraid. But I think we can rule out your friend. After all, they had just spent the afternoon together,” Ro added before Susan could ask another question.

  ELEVEN

  There were questions Susan wanted to ask immediately, but she had to wait until the drinks Ro had ordered were served. An obsequious young man, apparently familiar with the Parkers’ requirements, placed a tray on the trunk and poured deep amber liquid into ice-filled glasses, dropped in lemon slices, and passed one to each woman. Susan, realizing she was thirsty, took a large gulp immediately. And gasped: There may have been a touch of the tea she was expecting, but most of the glass was filled with sweetened dark rum. “Oh, wow!” she muttered.

  “Don’t worry, dear. They always use artificial sweetener,” Ro assured her.

  “And what else?” Susan asked, realizing that her eyes were watering.

  “Mount Gay rum and spring water,” the waiter answered, picking up the empty tray and preparing to depart. “Anything else?”

  “We’re fine now,” Ro said, raising her own glass and sipping. “Excellent, as usual. Thank you,” she dismissed him. “Now where were we?” she asked Susan when they were alone again.

  “You had just told me that Allison and Jerry spent yesterday afternoon together.”

  “Oh, he didn’t admit that to you?”

  “It wasn’t a question of admitting anything to anyone,” Susan answered, annoyed
. “I never asked him what he was doing yesterday. I haven’t even spoken to Jerry about Allison… or about her murder.”

  “The police did take him off rather abruptly, didn’t they?”

  “I’m sure they’ll discover that they’ve made a mistake and he’ll be back here soon,” Susan stated flatly.

  Ro didn’t seem convinced. “Perhaps you’re right. But I certainly would feel much better if I could tell the police that someone else was out on the beach last night, someone else who had a reason to kill Allison.”

  Susan stood up so quickly that she spilled her drink. “Jerry Gordon had absolutely no reason to kill Allison. She was his sister-in-law. They were family. The police have made a terrible mistake.”

  “She was his sister-in-law? She didn’t tell me that!”

  Susan realized that she was giving away as much information as she was getting. “What exactly did she tell you about herself?”

  “Well, let me think. She mentioned her career, that she was an illustrator who did mainly freelance work. But when I asked about it-and it sounded very interesting-she said she was on vacation and didn’t want to think about work.”

  “Did you think that was odd?”

  “Not at all. She wouldn’t be the first person to try to forget problems back at the office while on vacation. Why, there was a famous senator here a few years ago and he absolutely refused to talk politics.”

  Susan didn’t think that was exactly the same thing, but she didn’t mention it. “So what did Allison talk about?”

  “Oh, the places she had visited on other vacations, things she had done, books she had read. She didn’t speak a whole lot about what you could call her personal life. Which must be why I didn’t know she was anyone’s sister-in-law.”

  “But she must have mentioned some people. After all, she told you that I had investigated murders, right? She wouldn’t have talked about me and no one else.”

  Ro took another sip of her drink before answering. “But you were different than other people. Your name came up because we were talking about murder.”