Vacations Can Be Murder: The Second Charlie Parker Mystery

by Connie Shelton

  "I wasn't sure at first what I'd do with him," she said. “I hadn't planned that far in advance. But, I knew it had to be somewhere that people wouldn't find him right away. We had taken one of those snorkeling trips earlier in the week, and I knew there were lots of rugged valleys out there.

  “I drove out to the end of the road, thinking I'd carry him partway up the trail, then take him off to the side somewhere. But, I got luckier than that. Some fool had left a small motor boat pulled up on the beach. There were no cars around, and no one camping, so I just borrowed the boat for a little while. I worked fast. It didn't take long at all to motor over to the first deep valley and beach the boat. I carried him as far inland as I could, and dumped him behind a boulder. I figured wild animals would get him before anyone found him."

  "So, you put the warning note on my windshield? And what about Catherine? Did you knock her over the head last night, too?"

  "When I realized I'd left my jacket at the pool, I almost panicked. I went back to look for it, but you and she and the jacket were gone. I searched her room first, and she was just unlucky enough to walk in about two minutes too soon."

  There was a slight pause in the falling rain, and the siren sound came through distinctly. This time, Susan heard it too. She changed instantly from her talkative self-congratulatory mood, to one of near panic. Her eyes grew wide, and I could see perspiration glistening on her upper lip.

  "Well, Charlie, looks like I need to get going. After killing Gil and Drake, you don't honestly think I'd let you get away, especially now that you know the whole story."

  I supposed that would be asking a bit much. I watched her fingers grip the wrench tighter.

  Her actions started happening in slow motion, as my brain took its time assimilating the situation. Her right arm, wrench outstretched, swung out to its full extension. She closed the gap between us with a quick little two-step, as she brought the wrench in a downward arc aimed at my skull. I tried to leap backward, but the workbench bumped the middle of my back, blocking my way. I managed to duck, bent at the waist.

  I dove for the floor behind her.

  Her weapon came down hard on the edge of the wooden workbench. The impact would have certainly dislocated a person's shoulder, but not Susan’s. However, the element of surprise did cause her fingers to let go. The heavy wrench made sparks when it hit the floor. It skated across the concrete like it was greased.

  We both scrambled for it, but she got there first. I backed off, and scanned the area for something I could use that might help my odds. Nothing I could see was a match for Susan's arm wielding fifteen pounds of metal.

  I decided distance was my best bet. I side stepped out of range, trying to work my way toward the door.

  Susan might be all muscle, but she's also fast. She made an all out run toward me, closing the distance quickly. I could see her raising her arm for another swing, so I turned and bolted for the door.

  It was pitch dark outside now, and the drenching rain made visibility almost nil. Lights from the other buildings and from the guard's post were blurred into uselessness. There were so many reflections on the slick tarmac that I couldn't distinguish anything. I couldn't see the guardhouse or the gate.

  I didn't have time to debate the question either.

  I took off in the direction that felt right. I could hear Susan right behind me. I half expected the wrench to come down across my shoulders at any second, ending it all.

  The guard’s enclosure and gate gradually came into blurry view as I ran as fast as I could. I couldn't tell whether the guard was back at his post yet, but the gate looked shut as I got closer to it. Let it not be locked, I begged silently.

  Water ran down my face, and a strand of wet hair glued itself across my left eye. I wanted to brush it aside, but didn't dare lose my concentration that long.

  As I reached for the gate knob, I thought I saw a flash of welcome blue police light, somewhere beyond the parking lot. It came too late, though.

  Susan caught up with me as I pulled the gate open. She didn't take the time to aim well, or she would have killed me.

  As it was, I felt a bone-jarring blow to the side of my head.

  The light-reflecting raindrops got brighter as my legs went rubbery. Something inside told me that she would put me down permanently with one more blow. I gripped the chain link gate for support, and kicked toward her with the little force I had left.

  I made contact, but it didn't feel solid. I heard the wrench clatter against the tarmac, and then there were sirens.

  Nice, close sirens.

  Chapter 17

  I came to, to the sounds of foreign voices, the throb of the world's worst headache, and the smell of wet hair. I was lying on the tarmac, half in and half out of the guard's enclosure. I guess they had dragged my top half under cover so I wouldn't drown while lying there. I felt like I'd been thrown, completely clothed, into a cold shower.

  My clothes were wet clear through to, and including, my underwear. My hair clung to the side of my face, exacerbating the pain from my wound. I wanted to curl up and go to sleep, warm and dry, for a few days.

  Mostly, I would settle for dry.

  No one seemed to be paying particular attention to me as I dragged myself to a sitting position. Every part of me was cold and stiff, and I wondered how long I had been there.

  I held my head steady with both hands as I tried to assess the situation. Warm liquid ran down my neck, behind my right ear. When my fingers came away sticky I realized it was blood. I pressed the heel of my hand against the spot.

  A wave of dizziness swept over me. I lowered my head between my knees while trying to keep pressure on the wound. I tried to remember everything I knew about head injuries, but found I was having trouble remembering where I was. After a minute, I gave it up.

  Blue patrol car lights filled the air. They hurt my eyes, but there was nowhere I could turn to avoid them. Water-covered surfaces bounced the lights everywhere.

  Two officers were leading Susan, handcuffed, toward one of the cars. Fuzzy radio transmissions blurred with the voices around me, until I could no longer tell how many were speaking or what they were saying. Finally, an officer approached me.

  "I don't know if you should be sitting up," he said gently. "We've called an ambulance for you."

  "It's okay." My words sounded slurred, even to me. "Where's the helicopter?"

  He looked like he didn't understand me at first. "Oh, the helicopter that was reported missing?"

  I nodded once. Pain, hot as an electric shock, shot into my head. My stomach lurched.

  "They found it," he said. "I hear it's going to need some serious work, but the pilot and passengers are all okay. They're bringing them in from Waimea now."

  The ambulance attendants approached and noticed the blood on my hand. The bleeding had pretty much stopped, but they applied a pressure bandage just to be sure. I didn't want them to put me on a stretcher, but I had to admit that being wrapped in a blanket felt wonderful. I found myself getting the shakes. It's times like this I want my mommy. I let myself doze off once the ambulance started moving.

  At the hospital, I let them do whatever they wanted. I lay submissively while they shone lights into my eyes, ears, nose, and throat, and X-rayed my head from several angles. The doctor was a soft-spoken Japanese man with close cropped hair, gold wire-rimmed glasses, and warm hands.

  "You're a lucky girl," he said, after tying off the last of the sutures. "Nothing's broken, amazingly. If she'd gotten a better swing at you... well, it could have been serious."

  Yeah, like dead.

  "I'd like to keep you overnight for observation," he continued, "but I don't want you going to sleep for a few hours yet. I know your greatest wish right now is probably for a nice long nap, but with a head injury, we want to see you up and around a bit first."

  "I can't see much point in staying in the hospital if I can't go to sleep. I'd rather go back to my room, where at least I'll have a comfortable be
d and a change of clothes."

  "Not unless you have someone to keep an eye on you through the night. You'll need to be wakened every few hours to make sure you are coherent."

  "I'll do it," Drake's voice came from the doorway. He came to my bedside and hugged me gently. Raising my head from the pillow sent another jolt through my skull.

  "Drake, you don't have to do that," I protested. "I'm used to taking care of myself. I can set an alarm clock."

  "No way." He motioned the doctor out into the hall, where they conferred.

  I wanted to be irritated that they were talking about me as though I were a child, but frankly, I was just too tired. I felt my eyes slipping shut. Okay, maybe I could let myself be pampered just this once.

  “Charlie, wake up, hon.” Drake’s voice spoke softly near my ear.

  I mumbled something blurry, realizing I’d drifted off to sleep in the hospital bed.

  “The doctor says I can take you home,” he continued. “Unless you’d rather be admitted for the night here.”

  “No, no.” I raised up on one elbow. The pain was slightly less excruciating that it had been earlier. “Definitely not here.”

  My clothes were still laying in a soggy puddle in the corner of the room, so the nurse suggested that I wear the hospital gown and robe. Drake gathered my few possessions and guided my hand toward the release form. My fingers didn’t cooperate very well but I did manage a shaky signature.

  “Your place or mine?’ he asked once we were in his truck.

  “I need some clean clothes.” My voice and my thoughts were becoming a little clearer. “Drake?”

  “Um hmm,” he answered, starting the truck and backing out of the parking slot.

  “Did you really figure out this morning that Susan was the killer?”

  “What?”

  “She told me you saw her in the hotel parking lot this morning and that you looked right at her and at her rental car, and that you knew she killed Gil.”

  “Well, he chuckled, “she gives me a lot more credit than I deserve. I noticed her this morning, but the only reason I stared at the car was because it was exactly like your rental. It took me a minute to realize that she wasn’t getting into your car.”

  I reached out to squeeze his forearm. “Thanks,” I mumbled. Then I drifted off to sleep again.

  Chapter 18

  I'm settling into my window seat for my fourth crossing of this same two thousand miles of ocean in the past ten days. The fourteen stitches at the base of my skull are neatly hidden now by my hair, but my head is throbbing slightly. I'm about ready to pop one of my pain killers and drowse the night away.

  The vacation was a good one—interesting, if not restful; eventful, if not relaxing. Drake cushioned my last two days by taking me home with him, and providing a hot shower, fresh clothes, and homemade soup. He even brought me a box of chocolates, and kissed me goodbye at the airport—all the stuff women find romantic, and men rarely provide. Drake Langston is a unique man.

  I find myself thinking about him now. As the plane is pushed back from the jetway, I can see his silhouette against the backlit windows. One hand is raised, tentatively, it seems. If I could see his facial features, I imagine there would be a wistfulness around the eyes.

  Last night we talked—personal stuff, plans. I tried to keep the mood light, to avoid making this whole encounter take on more significance than it should. Drake wanted so much to fall in love with me, and I must admit, the idea was tempting. But wasn’t this really just a shipboard romance, a wild, fun, fleeting thing?

  He had asked me when I could come back. I told him I couldn’t foresee it anytime soon. I asked him when he might come to the mainland. He wasn’t sure. I felt any definite plans fizzling. And yet, there was something more. Even with my head bandaged, my color lousy, and my speech dopey with pain medication, Drake looked at me with such tenderness, with a caring and yes, a love, no one had ever shown me before.

  I glanced back at the terminal. The lighted windows were tiny in the distance now, but I still imagined his shape against them. I closed my eyes, not quite in time to prevent a tear from slipping out. His last words had been a promise to call. We’d see.

  Home awaits me. The city, the traffic, my dog Rusty, my brother Ron, and the agency, my work, the routine.

  I'm promising myself that I'll start working out, but I know it's probably just another easily broken resolution.

  Author’s Note

  I really hope you are enjoying my Charlie Parker mystery series. If so, please tell your friends! You can also follow my blog, visit my website, (where you can subscribe to my free mystery newsletter) and follow me on Twitter @mysteries4U

  As of the publication of this e-book, in late 2009, there are eleven books in the Charlie Parker series, with more to come soon. And I will have updates and I hope some surprises in store in the coming months, which I will announce through my newsletter.

  Besides writing my own books, I also teach a writing course, so if you’ve ever had a yearning to write your own stories you can subscribe to my free fiction writing tips and find out more about my methods at Novel In A Weekend.

  Happy writing and happy reading!!

  With my best wishes,

  Connie Shelton

  What Happens Next?

  In the third book in the series, Charlie comes home from her Hawaiian vacation to find that her brother Ron is in love. But sweet little Vickie is much younger and it turns out that she’s hiding a few treacherous secrets. Meanwhile, Charlie offers to help a friend whose business partner apparently committed suicide. But did he?

  Learn the answers in Partnerships Can Kill: The Third Charlie Parker Mystery

  Table of Contents

  www.connieshelton.com