Vacation Therapy (5 page)

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Authors: Lance Zarimba

BOOK: Vacation Therapy
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Mike gave up trying to corral Sergio and stepped over to Geoff to hear what came across the radio. Seeing his chance, Sergio started to slink away.

"Stop right there. You need to answer a few more questions,” Mike told him in no uncertain terms. He looked to Geoff, who motioned toward me. Mike turned and asked, “Are you all right?"

"As well as can be expected,” I said.

"Can you tell me what happened?” Mike asked.

"I really don't know. All I did was go for a walk on the beach.” I pointed down the shoreline. “The moon went behind a cloud, something sprang out of the bushes, and I guess I kind of panicked.” I felt my face begin to burn. “I ran down the beach. It was so dark. I couldn't see anything. The next thing I knew, I was sprawled out across the sand. I reached down and felt...” I said, pointing to the body. “That's when I heard Sergio calling me. Just as he arrived, the moon came out from behind the cloud, and you can see what we found."

"Did you know the man?” Mike asked.

Sergio blurted out, “No!"

Both Mike and Geoff looked at me.

"No,” I shook my head. “He wanted to room with us earlier.” As I heard the words come out of my mouth, I realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, no, I've never met him before."

"But you just said that he wanted to room with you,” Mike pressed.

"Well, it wasn't just me,” I motioned toward Sergio.

"Don't get me involved in this little charade,” Sergio retorted. “I had nothing to do with this. He was grabbing your ass, not mine."

Geoff clipped the mouthpiece back onto its holster and said, “So mon, is this the body from your room?"

"Yes,” I said.

"No,” Sergio said, at the same time.

"Which is it?” Mike demanded.

"We don't know,” I said.

Sergio agreed.

"But I think it's the body from our room,” I added.

"But I don't,” Sergio said.

I glared at him.

"Well, I don't. It could be another body that just happened to...” he stopped. “I don't spy on men in the shower...” He waved his hand at Mike. “Never mind."

Two resort workers approached carrying a stretcher with a pile of blankets.

I took a step back.

Geoff held up his hand. “I'm security, don't nobody move till we search the place.” He pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of his back pocket and prepared to examine the body.

I looked down at the sand. My sprawl mark and footprints were everywhere. So much for not disturbing the scene of the crime or destroying evidence. Could I have set myself up any better as a suspect?

The body's feet were bare, and no other footprints were visible around him, except mine. The surf must have washed everything else away. Everything, except for my floundering.

Geoff shined his light across the body and stopped on its jeans’ back pocket. The beam played across a thick rectangular bulge. A wallet. He handed me the flashlight and bent to retrieve the wallet. His gloved fingers quickly removed it, opened it, and pulled out a driver's license. “Shine the light here."

I shined the light into his eyes.

"The card,” he said, and waved it at me.

"Sorry.” I aimed the beam so he could read it.

"Duane Wayne,” he said.

I started to snicker. The flashlight's beam jiggled. His Jamaican accent made him sound like Elmer Fudd. I looked at his expression and bit the inside of my cheek. This wasn't the time or place for my sick sense of humor to escape.

Sergio's eyes flashed me a warning.

I pursed my lips tighter, and shrugged my shoulders while I tried not to laugh, hoping my hysteria wouldn't show.

Geoff searched the rest of the wallet. He pulled out a few wet bills and a condom.

"Doesn't that boy know anything?” Sergio said. “Latex'll break down in his pock..."

We all stared at him.

"Well, it will. Body heat and all."

"I don't think he has to worry about that right now,” I said, tightly.

"As if. That guy never stood a chance. That look is so 80's. It's so over. It's so dead.” Sergio grimaced as soon as he said it.

"You're not helping,” I said.

"That man wasn't robbed. There's a lot a money here."

"Did he drown?” Mike asked.

"I don't know, mon. I gotta turn ‘im over."

"Shouldn't we wait for the police?” I asked.

"I am he."

Great, the cavalry had arrived. But why didn't I feel any better? “Don't you have to take photos of the crime scene first?"

"With all your footprints?” Geoff pointed around the body.

I felt my face burn again.

Geoff searched around the body one more time. After finding nothing, he carefully reached over and pulled on the man's shoulders. He log-rolled the body over onto his back. Rigor was starting to set in. “Shine the light on ‘im."

The security guard and I shone the lights on his face.

Duane's eyes were partially open. They stared vacantly up, glazed and cloudy. His mouth gaped open like a fish.

Mike grabbed one of the security officer's arms and trained his maglight on the body. “What's that?” The beam passed over his neck, and a flash of silver glinted in the light.

"What?” Geoff asked, and focused on what we were pointing at on the body's neck.

"It looks like there's a piece of metal tangled in his beard,” Mike said.

Gently, Geoff combed his fingers through the long wiry hair. Untangling the long strands, he removed a small pair of barber shears from the corpse's throat. The blades slipped out of their recesses, the tips emerging coated with a thin layer of clotted blood.

Sergio had moved next to me to get a better view. When the scissors slid out, his body stiffened next to me.

"What's wrong? Can't stand the sight of blood?” I asked.

"No, it's not that,” he whispered.

"Then what?"

"Those are mine."

"What? The scissors?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Sergio nodded his head slowly.

"How?” I asked, but didn't wait for a response. “But Geoff won't know that."

Sergio's eyes told me differently.

I continued in a whisper. “Besides, I doubt they'll be able to tell that they are yours.” I looked into his haunted eyes. “They won't be able to figure that out, will they?"

But before Sergio could answer, Geoff said, “What's dis? Shine the light ‘ere.” He wiped the blood away from the small blades with his index finger. “There's writing on it."

I knew what the engraved letters spelled out before he read, “Sergio."

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter 8—Sweet Dreams

Geoff asked question upon question, repeatedly, trying to get every detail down. What did he think? That I was going to forget the details? As if I had seen anything in the dark anyway. After what seemed like hours, he finally allowed me to go back to my room.

My body felt like it had been given the rubber hose and hot light bulb treatment. I unlocked the door and was welcomed by the bedside lamps, along with the blue, muted glow of the television.

Mike had taken Sergio to his room at the resort to question him, while Geoff interviewed me in his office. Now, Sergio sat, propped up at the head of his bed, snoring. An open book lay splayed next to him. How had he gotten back to the room before I did? His scissors were the murder weapon.

I tiptoed across the room and retrieved a pair of sleeping shorts from the dresser. I crept to the bathroom and swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as I entered. My eyes avoided the shower, and I worked quickly, brushing my teeth and taking out my contacts. The foggy image in the mirror peered at me. I was ready for bed, or so I thought.

Since I wasn't familiar with my environment, I retrieved my glasses from my shaving kit. I rarely wore them. Their thick lenses dug into my nose, and I hated to admit that my vanity would prefer a stubbed toe to being caught wearing them. I saw better with my contacts, so I didn't waste the money updating the prescription lenses or frames. I was legally blind without them.

I snuck across the room with my Coke bottles on. As I stepped between the beds, my foot kicked one of Sergio's sandals and sent it sliding across the tiled floor and under my bed.

Sergio sat bolt upright. “Who's there?” His pupils were dilated, and his hands flapped around in the covers.

"It's just me. Were you waiting up for me?” I said in a singsong tone.

"No,” Sergio said as he rubbed his eyes and scrambled to pick up his book. “No, I wasn't sleeping.” He flipped the book open. “I was reading. I just closed my eyes to...” he blinked a few times, trying to get the sleep out of them, “...to rest them."

The blanket was pulled tightly across his body, so only his arms were exposed, and he held a copy of
A Body to Dye For
upside-down in his hands.

"Good book?” I asked, slipping into bed. I sat with my back against the headboard, which wasn't attached to the frame but mounted to the wall.

"Yeah,” he settled back into his mound of pillows. “It's about this hairdresser who finds a dead body with a ribbon wrapped around his...” He paused as realization dawned on him. “Geoff sure kept you a long time. What did he ask?” He closed his book and set it aside.

"I'm sure the same things he asked you. He just kept asking me them over and over again. Did you know the guy? What did you see? How did you find the body? Did you touch anything? Was he the same body we found in our shower?” I yawned.

"He asked you all that?"

"No, but he should've. Obviously, he's forgotten our first encounter."

"That's fine by me.” Sergio yawned. “Geoff said I was seen cutting a guy's hair after supper, so I had an alibi, but I was getting pretty upset with him. And he wouldn't give me my scissors back. It's a matched set. Who does he think he is? The way he was treating me, he acted like I killed the guy. Can you believe that?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head. Trying to change the subject, I pointed to his book. “Should you be reading something like that before you go to bed?"

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep again.” His mouth opened wide into another big yawn.

"You look pretty tired. Maybe you should turn off the light and try."

"I'm not tired.” His head bobbed up and down as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Yeah right. “Maybe you're afraid to fall asleep?” An evil grin played across my face.

"No,” he said, quickly.

"Are you sure?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

"I just want to finish this chapter, then I'll turn off the light.” He quickly picked up his book and opened it up. It was still upside-down.

"Suit yourself. At least, you're not afraid of me.” I looked at him. “Are you?"

"No,” he said, even quicker than his first time. “Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I wouldn't blame you, you know. You don't know me all that well, and you don't think that I could...?” I left the sentence hang in the air. My eyes narrowed at him. “Do you?"

"I know you couldn't...wouldn't..."

I smiled and nodded. “Good,” I said with a soothing quality in my voice. “I mean, I don't know you that well either, but I'm sure that you didn't kill him. Did you?” I took a deep breath. “But I trust you. You trust me, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so,” but Sergio's voice wasn't convincing.

"So, I guess we'll both have to trust each other, now won't we? It's not like I've stumbled across
that
many dead bodies."

Sergio gave me a nervous look. “Yeah?"

"Besides, you don't have another pair of scissors in your case that I would be able to slip out when you're sleeping and...” I made a stabbing motion in the air, and then grasped my throat with both hands. My tongue stuck out and gurgling noises came out of my throat. I smiled. “Well, I'm beat.” I snuggled under the blanket and rolled over onto my side, and then rolled back to face him. “Oh, by the way, when did you learn to read upside down?"

"What? Why are you asking me that?” Sergio asked, as a puzzled expression worried his brow.

"I noticed that you were holding that book upside down.” My hand slipped out from under the covers and pointed to it. I took off my glasses and placed them on the nightstand. “Good night,” I said, and reached up and turned off the light next to my bed.

As I rolled over on to my side and pulled the covers over my shoulders, I smiled to myself. “We'll see how well you sleep tonight, Sergio. You're not the only one that can tease around here."

* * * *

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter 9—Breakfast

Sergio had trouble getting up. Something about not sleeping well emanated from underneath his sheets. I reminded him about his choice of bedtime reading material, and I barely escaped in one piece.

I carried my breakfast tray through the dining area, looking for a place to sit. All the tables were full and not a single chair was vacant. It surprised me that so many were up this early in the morning. I continued walking around scanning the room. In the far back corner, one small table had an open seat. A guy sat alone. His back was to the crowded room. I looked around one more time, but didn't see anything else open.

Oh well, I had to make the most of this trip, and I did need a place to sit. As I approached the table, a dark-haired guy with blond highlights looked up. Great, another bronzed model. “Do you mind if I join you?” I asked, motioning toward the empty chair.

"Sure.” He shrugged.

The low rumble of conversation stopped in the room.

I looked around as I set my tray down and pulled out the chair. My face flushed. Had everyone heard about the commotion on the beach last night? I felt a roomful of eyes focusing on me. What was going on? I sat down, ignoring their glares, and took a sip of my orange juice. I wiped my hand on my shorts and extended it. “Hi, I'm Taylor."

The man wiped his hand on his napkin and shook mine. “I'm Tom."

"Nice to meet you, Tom.” I released his hand and picked up my fork, starting on my scrambled eggs. The room was still silent.

"Where are you from?” Tom asked.

"Sioux Falls, South Dakota,” I said, through a mouthful of eggs. I turned to the side, looking for Sergio. Instead, the entire dining room stared back at us. Correction. Stared at me.

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