The Last Resort (A Kate Jasper Mystery) (21 page)

Felix’s room was across the hall from mine. When he turned his key and opened the door, Wayne and I peered in around him. Sure enough, the decor of this room matched my own. Peeling psychedelic paisley wallpaper in shades of orange and black. Saffron yellow curtains. Liver brown furniture with orange trim. Felix didn’t even rate a salmon bedspread. His was bright orange.

“Far out,” Felix murmured. A blissful smile appeared on his face as he strolled into the room.

“You like it?” I asked incredulously, following him in.

“I love it!” he answered, stroking the wallpaper. “I crashed in a place that looked just like this in 1970.”

I turned to look at Wayne. He shrugged his shoulders. Then he laughed. The laughter was worth the paisley decor. As I joined in, the miasma of Spa Santé thinned a little.

“Far out,” Felix repeated. He bounced on his orange bed, oblivious of our amusement. Then he stood up with a look of determination. “Let’s go meet some more suspects,” he declared.

We decided to check out the pool for anyone who had not heard Fran’s lunch announcement. But after that, we would go straight to the dining hall. I was lightheaded from hunger. Actually, from hunger and shock. And fear. But the hunger I could deal with. And Felix wanted to go back to the dining hall so I could introduce him to more “suspects.”

Terry McPhail was energetically backstroking across the swimming pool when we arrived. I waved at him and he climbed out, ranting and dripping.

“Fuckin’ cops,” he said. “Did you see the way they threatened me? You heard them, right? You’re witnesses?”

“To what?” I asked.

“Orlandi!” he shouted, waving his wet arms angrily. I felt a spray of water land on my face. “Telling Dempster to remove me. And then Dempster, with his hand on his gun!”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. Now I remembered. It had been tense there for a while.

Felix nudged me and whispered in my ear. “Introduce me to the hothead.”

“Terry, this is Felix,” I said briefly, pointing appropriately.

Terry nodded at Felix, but was not deterred from his screed. “And Nikki. Telling her she has to stay here at the spa. After what she’s been through!”

Damn. I had been trying so hard to forget about Nikki. And Jack. I blinked my eyes furiously, afraid I was going to start crying again.

Wayne shook his head sadly.

“I told Nikki to call her attorney,” said Terry. “And to call him quick before the cops leaned all over her again.”

That sounded like good advice to me.

“Leaned all over her for what?” asked Felix.

“For killing Jack,” Terry answered, as if it was obvious.

“Wait a minute,” said Felix, shaking his head. “It was a woman that was killed. Suzanne Sorenson.”

“No, no,” Terry snapped. He waved his hands in the air again. “That was the first murder. I’m talking about Jack Ireland.” Terry pointed his bony white finger first at Wayne, then at me. “Early this morning. They found his body.”

“YOU FOUND A body and you didn’t tell me?” asked Felix. His eyes were round with hurt. The hurt phase was mercifully brief. Anger was next.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped six inches from my face. “Another murder and you kept it from me!” he shouted.

I stepped back from the onslaught. Wayne moved in front of me instantly.

“Be cool, Felix,” Wayne warned in a low voice.

Felix peered up at Wayne. Hurt entered his eyes once more.

“But—” he began.

Terry McPhail had been watching us in confusion. Now a look of comprehension crossed his face. “What are you, some kind of narc?” he asked Felix. He didn’t bother to mask the hostility in his voice.

“Huh?” replied Felix, turning to him in bewilderment.

“An undercover cop. I should have guessed.” Terry shook his head in disgust. “And I suppose Kate reports to you.”

“He’s not a cop,” I said.

“FBI? CIA? What?” demanded Terry.

“He’s a reporter,” I answered. I glanced at Felix’s hurt face, remembered his past kindnesses and added softly, “A friend too.”

Felix blushed when I said “friend.” Maybe he was remembering
my
past kindnesses. “Sorry, Kate,” he apologized.

Terry, however, was not to be placated. “A reporter,” he said. “Shit.” Then he turned and jumped back in the pool. It was hard to tell if he thought a reporter was worse or better than a cop.

“Terry,” I shouted. If his head was under water, so be it. “Fran’s got a lunch buffet ready.”

That duty done, I turned and led the silent march back to the dining hall.

Felix broke the silence once the swimming pool was out of sight.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Ireland’s murder?” he asked. This time his tone was reasonable, gently inquiring.

“Because I was too shook up,” I explained. I turned to face him. “Have you ever stumbled over a dead body?” I asked.

“I’ve seen some,” he said slowly. Understanding softened his eyes for a moment. “Must have been terrible.”

I nodded, glad he understood.

“What did it look like, exactly?” he asked slyly.

“Felix!” I yelped.

“Just kidding,” said Felix. I smiled in spite of myself. Can’t blame a guy for trying.

We walked a few more steps. I looked over at Wayne. He was smiling too.

To Felix, the smiles were a green light.

“Seriously, Kate,” he said. “Did it look like the same M.O. as Suzanne’s murder?”

“Yes,” I answered curtly.

“Come on, Kate,” Felix begged, his mustache twitching eagerly. “Give.”

I sighed one more, mammoth sigh. Then I gave. The whole story of the morning’s events. We kept walking while I rattled off the story as fast as I could move my mouth, not allowing Felix an edgewise moment to interrupt. I wanted this story over with in time for lunch.

By the time the main building came into view, I had finished my monologue with a description of my last interrogation by Chief Orlandi.

“That’s all?” asked Felix.

“Isn’t that enough?” I responded.

Felix ignored me. He was thinking as he walked. He gazed upwards into nothingness, lost in some inner scenario. If there had been a brick wall in front of him, he would have walked into it. Unfortunately, there was no brick wall.

“So it was Craig who actually found Jack Ireland’s body first?” he asked softly, eyes still unseeing.

I nodded.

“And Suzanne’s too?” He stroked his chin.

I nodded again. Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about Craig.

He brought his eyes back to earth abruptly as we came to the stairs of the main building. Then he lifted them to my face. “Who do you think did it?” he asked.

“I told you,” I snapped. “I don’t know. I don’t even have a guess.”

We had started up the stairs when I heard the sound of footsteps on the path behind us. I turned and saw the twins, Arletta and Edna. They both averted their glances, as if suddenly interested in the landscape.

“Who are they?” asked Felix, nudging my ribs. I shrugged my shoulders.

I wasn’t going to tell. I preferred the twins’ tailing me to Felix’s questions. I only wished they had been the ones to discover Jack’s body. Arletta and Edna would have handled the discovery better.

As we walked up the stairs and through the lobby, I told Wayne and Felix about the great vegetarian buffet the Beaumonts put on. Neither one seemed impressed. In the middle of my description of scrambled tofu, Felix went so far as to stick his finger down his throat as if to vomit. Wayne plopped a hand over his mouth to muffle his snicker, but I heard it anyway. Boys!

Bradley was at the front counter in the dining hall. He watched our approach with luminous eyes, a smile fluttering on his lips. Felix nudged me. He didn’t even have to ask who Bradley was. I had become conditioned, not to mention bruised, by Felix’s inquiring nudges.

“Bradley Beaumont,” I whispered. Then I ducked around to Wayne’s other side. Let Felix nudge Wayne for information.

“Ah, Ms. Jasper,” Bradley greeted me. “Your essence multiplies each time I see you.” He giggled at his own sally. I wasn’t sure what the joke was. Was he referring to Wayne and Felix? I smiled as if I understood.

“Three buffets,” I said.

“All on Mr. Jasper’s bill?” asked Bradley, cocking an eyebrow.

Damn. I hadn’t thought this out. Craig certainly owed nothing to Felix. But to Wayne? And what about the room? I was here for Craig, and Wayne was here to help me be here for Craig. But did that mean Craig was paying Wayne to sleep with me? Was there an ethicist in the house?

“On me,” growled Wayne, cutting short my ethical struggle. I felt oddly disappointed. It was so much easier to obsess about a minor moral issue than to consider the more critical, and brutal, facts of murder.

Bradley looked disappointed, too, as he took the cash from Wayne. Had Wayne ruined his joke? Felix, however, looked smug, having snagged a free lunch, even if it was vegetarian.

I heard the sound of Fran’s office door opening into the lobby behind us, then the low rumble of male voices emerging. Chief Orlandi and two grim-faced men walked out.

“You’re giving it your best shot,” said one of the men to Chief Orlandi. “That’s all you can do,” added the other man.

The Chief shook his head, looking very tired. “Well, anyway,” he said, “thanks for the assist. I can sure use it.”

The two men left through the front doors. The Chief stood with bent head and drooping shoulders as he watched them go. Poor guy—

Felix’s elbow was in my ribs again. He must have followed me around Wayne.

“Who’s that?” he whispered.

“The big guy is Chief Orlandi,” I told him, keeping my voice down. “I don’t know who the other two were.”

“Lakeside County sheriffs,” he whispered.

I turned to him, impressed. “How’d you figure that out?” I asked. Maybe he was assimilating some of Barbara’s psychic powers.

“It said ‘Lakeside County Sheriff’s Department’ on their car,” he answered. So much for psychic powers.

After a long sigh, Chief Orlandi turned back to Fran’s office. But as he did, the twins came marching through the front doors. Orlandi saw them, groaned and retreated to the office, slamming the door behind him.

Edna flung open the office door and strode in, undeterred. Arletta fluttered in behind her. Felix’s eyes were bulging with curiosity. He tiptoed up to the closed door to better hear the rumbles and twitters that filtered through.

I turned to Wayne. “Ready for a vegetarian feast?” I asked, pumping enthusiasm into my voice.

He nodded his head glumly. I led the way into the dining hall, quickly surveying the diners. Uncle Eli sat next to Craig at the communal table. And Ruth sat across from Eli, her face sparkling with pleasure. Don Logan sat by himself at the window.

I turned my eyes to the buffet. I was ready for food. Fasting has never appealed to me for either spiritual or health purposes. I tend to see angels after a day without food, angel food cake after two days. At half a day, I was shaky and my head ached. My vision was beginning to waver, too, but I could still see the buffet.

Right off, I noticed the carrot sticks I had sculpted, two kinds of bread (probably leftover from breakfast), hummus, vegetable soup, steamed corn-on-the-cob and new potatoes. My mouth watered. I picked up a cube of marinated tofu and popped it into my mouth. It was tangy and sweet at the same time. I grabbed a piece of oatmeal-raisin bread and bit a chunk out of it. Heaven. Thus fortified, I took a plate and began piling it high.

“Isn’t this great?” I mumbled to Wayne through another bite of oatmeal-raisin bread. “All you can eat.”

Wayne was poking at the tofu cubes with a fork, as if searching for meat. His eyebrows were lowered so far I couldn’t see his eyes at all.

“Great,” he murmured. He tasted a tofu cube experimentally, and shuddered. He prodded a cob of corn suspiciously. I repressed the urge to remind him that vegetarian corn tasted just like ordinary corn.

“Couldn’t hear much,” came Felix’s voice from behind me. “Sounds like the police chief is pissed at the two old ladies, though.”

“Fine,” I said curtly. “Let’s just eat.”

Felix picked up a plate and came over to my side.

“That guy Bradley,” he whispered. “Watching me the whole time. He kept giggling. It was really weird.”

I had had enough of Bradley Beaumont. Enough of Felix Byrne, for that matter. “Eat,” I ordered.

“Isn’t there anyone normal in this place?” Felix asked.

I quelled him with a glare, but the question reverberated in my aching head. I took another bite of bread. Were the inhabitants of Spa Santé all off balance? Or was it just the murders that made everyone behave that way?

Felix’s gaze lit on Craig and he began filling his plate helter-skelter. A potato, a slice of melon, a dollop of hummus, a handful of carrot sticks, all the time peering at Craig. Once his plate was full, he hoofed it over to the communal table to take a seat next to Craig.