Death in a Beach Chair (18 page)

THIRTY-THREE

“How did you ever figure it out?”

Even in the leisurely Caribbean, everything could change in twenty-four hours. Yesterday Susan had been asking all the questions. Today she had all the answers.

Well, almost all the answers. Kathleen’s plane was landing in less than an hour, and Susan was hoping she would be able to fill in a gap or two in the story. Until then, Susan and Jed were spending the day lying in the sun on either side of Jerry Gordon, replenishing his glass of rum punch as needed and explaining to curious guests what had happened.

“I know I was lucky to be held under the embassy offices, and the view was spectacular, but I sure did miss the sun—and the alcohol—while I was there,” Jerry said, stretching out and putting his hands behind his head.

“So tell us, how did you ever figure it all out?” Ro Parker repeated her question. “Did you look for clues? What did you find? How could you possibly have guessed what really happened?”

“Better tell her. She’s been driving me nuts since word that you had discovered the murderer’s identity spread around Compass Bay last night,” Burt urged.

“Oh, you!” his wife responded. “You’re just cranky because you can’t seem to attract the waiter’s attention this morning.”

“It’s true that the standard of service has fallen off dramatically in the last twelve hours,” Veronica chimed in.

“Guess you can tell who really ran this place,” Randy spoke up. “And I have to admit I’ll really miss James. Seems to me he personified the high standard of service that kept us coming back to Compass Bay year after year.”

“Has anyone heard if they’ve found him yet?” Rose Anderson appeared on the edge of the group and asked timidly.

“First, before you start to complain about the service, before we worry about the murderer’s whereabouts, please tell us how you figured out who killed Allison McAllister,” Ro asked again.

“It was a combination of things,” Susan began. “You see, I couldn’t connect Allison to anyone else at Compass Bay. Anyone except you and Jed and me,” she continued, turning to Jerry.

“I kept thinking about that myself,” he admitted.

“Well,” Susan continued, “since I couldn’t connect Allison to anyone except us, I couldn’t figure out who might want to kill her. I also couldn’t figure out who to ask about her. All the information I had about Allison was from the guests she spoke to before we arrived. And, like all of us, she just talked about the parts of her life that she wanted to talk about. Then it occurred to me that I was actually getting a fair amount of information. Allison had talked to you all more than . . . well, more than anyone ordinarily would. She came here alone and I assumed that she was lonely. But then it struck me that she was saying very specific things about herself and her life, all of which connected her to the Gordons. She was obsessed with them. She even wrote a semiautobiographical novel that made her sound like a victim of her sister. According to Rose, she got a big advance for it. I guess sibling rivalry is a hot topic these days.”

“June was always kind and generous to Allison—despite the tension that existed in their relationship,” Jerry spoke up.

“Allison also made sure everyone knew about my own experience investigating murders,” Susan continued. “And that struck me as odd. I have two great kids. My husband has a great job. I live in a wonderful town. There’s a lot you could tell people about me. Why did everyone here know about my sleuthing? Frankly, I was beginning to be embarrassed about it, and then it occurred to me that Allison must have told everyone for a reason.”

“What was that?” Rose spoke up.

“She wanted me to investigate—or rather—be involved in a murder investigation at Compass Bay.” Susan looked around and suddenly felt like a teacher trying to explain the theory of relativity to a group of second-graders: Everyone’s face was blank. “Allison came here planning the murder of Kathleen Gordon,” she explained.

“What?”

“Why?”

“How do you know?”

“I know it because she, in fact, did some other fiction writing. She wrote a diary that purported to record the last month and a half of her life. A month and a half during which she continued her passionate love affair with Jerry and during which Jerry promised to get rid of his wife and marry Allison. At least that’s what it said.”

“You know, whatever happened, you can patch up your marriage,” Peggy said, leaning forward and patting Jerry’s arm.

“It was complete fiction,” Jerry answered. “I love Kathleen. I couldn’t stand Allison. Period.”

“Men sometimes—” Peggy added.

“Peggy, shut up!” Frank roared. “Not all men have affairs. Not all men are married to you!”

There was a moment of silence while they all took this in. Then Susan continued her explanation.

“The diary was supposed to be discovered after Kathleen was murdered. I suppose Allison herself might have suggested that the cottages be searched. But Kathleen and I found it when we were searching Allison’s cottage. Kathleen read it and then claimed it had been stolen from her cottage. Kathleen doesn’t lie very well. I knew she had gotten rid of it somehow—probably just dumped it in the ocean.”

“You never asked her about it?” Joann spoke up.

“Sure I did, on the phone just a few hours ago. But I already knew Kathleen and Jerry were innocent. I just didn’t realize immediately that Allison must have been trying to prove the exact opposite. You see, nothing made sense because the wrong person died.”

“Why? Why did the wrong person die?” Randy asked.

“Because one tall, long-haired blond looks pretty much like the next in the dark. Allison had made herself over, and she had made herself into a copy of Kathleen. She was out on the gazebo in the dark; James came up behind her, strung a fishing line around her neck, and pulled it tight. He’s strong. She would have been dead within minutes. And, probably, James realized that he had killed the wrong person.”

“She came to the island to find someone to kill Kathleen,” Ro said.

“Yes.”

“Why would James, or anyone, do that?”

“Money. James liked working here, but he was living on the expectation of good tips. And tips are not a dependable source of income. In fact, there was no guarantee that he would even continue working here from day to day. When my kayak sank—and I think that was probably an innocent accident—there was a serious concern among the staff that he’d be sacked. Lila was furious with him. She couldn’t blame Allison’s murder on the staff, or Kath’s concussion . . . or the knockout drops put in Jed’s lunch—”

“Why was that anyway?” her husband asked.

“You were sitting in the restaurant, waiting for me to show up. James probably thought you might see him with Kathleen. He couldn’t risk that.”

“But why hit Kathleen?” Burt asked.

“I think he probably wanted to scare her away. But what no one knew is that Kathleen was a cop. She doesn’t scare easily.”

“That’s true,” Jerry said proudly.

“Anyway, Lila doesn’t expect accidents to happen here—ever. Those kayaks should have been checked for damage before they were put out on the beach. And that’s James’s job. This is a good place to work. Everyone kept repeating that. Everyone on the island who isn’t driving a taxi wants to work here. There’s probably no one on the staff who isn’t aware of being replaceable. One slip up and you’re out.”

“Sounds like Lila,” Burt Parker said approvingly. “She runs a tight ship.”

“And she’s hired many of James’s friends, relatives, and girlfriends. A lot of people depend on his continued employment. When he saw the opportunity to make some money to free him from this situation, he took it.

“Of course, the fact that Allison picked James to help her out was part of the problem I had investigating. Everyone here, with the exception of Lila, was protecting him. He could come and go without ever worrying that anyone would say anything to incriminate him. No matter what he did here he’d get away with it. Taking girlfriends on the beach at night was against the rules, but James knew no one would report him. There was probably no one else in the resort who could—quite literally—get away with murder.

“In fact, I had to leave Compass Bay to discover that he and Allison had been meeting.”

“Where did you go?”

“There’s a restaurant in town—the Coconut Hut—”

“More a dive than a restaurant,” Veronica said.

“Yes, I suppose.”

“But their lemonade is sensational,” Veronica went on, looking around as though hoping one would appear before her right now.

“And their bartender is a very observant young man, thank heavens,” Susan said, trying to return the conversation to the topic at hand. “He was working the day Allison was killed, and he saw her meeting with Jerry.”

“That meeting was completely accidental!” Jerry protested.

“And wouldn’t have happened if James had shown up,” Susan added. “The bartender said Allison waited impatiently for someone to appear. She was probably amazed when Jerry walked in instead of James.”

“I was trying to get away from Allison, and I couldn’t believe it when I walked in that door and there she was. I really thought I was going to go mad,” Jerry said. “I even considered making up some sort of excuse and taking Kathleen back to Hancock. Instead, I got back to Compass Bay as soon as I could and told Kath I wanted to eat dinner in town. I just wanted to get away from Allison and to keep Kathleen away from her. I thought things would be better when you and Jed arrived,” he added, looking at Susan.

“Did you ever think that Kathleen might be in any danger?” Jed asked, sitting up.

“I never thought that Allison might be planning to kill her, but, yes, I did get the feeling that she was trying to damage our marriage. I mean, I couldn’t believe it when I saw her walking down the dock toward us the first afternoon we were here. She was wearing a tiny bikini; her hair was shimmering blond and hanging down her back; she looked like Kathleen. Not beautiful like Kath, of course, but like an . . . an imitation of her.”

“Which is why you couldn’t take your eyes off her, right?” Susan asked.

“Why I—but you weren’t even on the island yet. How did you know that?” Jerry smiled. “Kathleen must have told you that.”

“She did. She thought you were . . . well, infatuated with Allison.”

“God, no! I couldn’t stand the woman. And I was shocked. I didn’t trust Allison. The fact that she had turned herself into a replica of Kath made me very uncomfortable. I thought she was up to something, but I never even considered something like planning a murder.”

“You and she had been meeting in the city, right?” Susan asked.

“We met once in early January. She called me up at work and asked if I’d take her to lunch. I couldn’t think of any reason to refuse, so we met at the Four Seasons.”

“Didn’t she look the same there as she did this week?” Peggy asked.

Jerry paused a moment to consider her question. “No, I don’t think so. Her hair wasn’t as blond and it was tied back somehow. She was wearing glasses, I think. And it was snowing outside. She had on some sort of black wool suit. She looked like every other woman in the city. We talked about general things. Nothing significant.”

“Except that you told her we were all coming here for a vacation,” Susan pointed out.

“Yes, I’m afraid I must have. I know I was thinking about it. The weather was awful. We had a new client at work who was making everyone miserable. Susan, when you came up with this idea for a trip and found Compass Bay, it was almost all I could think about for a few days. I probably told Allison about it before we’d finished our first course.”

“Had you kept in touch with her after June died?” Jed asked.

“No. She helped me clean out the house, but I didn’t see her for a long while after that. She sent Christmas cards and birthday cards, but, well, I’m not awfully good about that type of thing.”

Susan smiled. In her experience, not many men were.

“Why were Allison and James meeting in town?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know for sure. But my guess would be that James wanted to end their deal. He seems to be a nice young man, not a killer. So he suggested they meet away from here and in a public place.”

“But Jerry met her instead,” Susan said.

“Do you think Allison would have let him back out of their agreement?” Jed asked.

“Probably not. And she really had a lot of power over him. If she had gone to Lila and told her what James agreed to, he would have lost his job for sure. And everything he was trying to protect when he agreed to kill Kathleen would have vanished anyway.”

“So maybe he did know that Allison was lying out in the gazebo. Maybe he knew who he was killing,” Ro suggested.

“That is possible,” Susan said slowly. “But we won’t know unless James is found.”

“Unless?” Jerry asked. “Don’t you think he’ll be found?”

“He has lots of friends, lots of relatives. My guess is that he was smuggled off this island by some of them and he won’t be back. But the Caribbean is made up of many islands and has many more resorts. He’ll take a new identity, find a new job, and in a few months he may be taking other American tourists out to see other coral reefs.”