RESORT TO MURDER (10 page)

It was a lined and columned, accounting-type
book Lori had apparently decided to use as her personal journal.
The first few pages were filled with poems copied in longhand.
Maggie recognized one or two from the high school English
curriculum. Mac, her office partner, had quoted them often enough
for them to stick in her memory.

These were followed by what seemed to be
Lori's attempt at writing poetry. Many words and whole lines had
been crossed out, but Maggie could piece them together well enough.
They were the usual, romantic, idealistic thoughts of a young
college girl, but one or two lines touched Maggie. She could see
how Lori had matured from the fifteen year-old she had once
tutored.

The poetry changed to prose. Lori began
putting down her thoughts, apparently near the end of her last
semester in college. Random and unconnected, they appeared to have
been written quickly.

"Wish I had spent more time on philosophy -
it's just starting to click and I really like it now. Is it too
late?"

"Steph wants to fix me up with her
boyfriend's brother for Saturday night. I told her no and I'm
afraid she's a little mad. I wish people would stop trying to fix
me up. I just can't seem to get interested in any of the guys I've
met so far. I don't know why, exactly. They just seem so
young."

Soon came comments on starting work at the
Highview. Maggie read about Lori's excitement at getting the job,
then her anxiety just before starting. Lori mentioned a few names
of other waitresses - including Holly's - and wrote about the brief
training period. Maggie flipped pages until she came to the last
entry. There was no date, and no indication - to Maggie's
disappointment - that Lori planned to meet someone. It could have
been written on her last day of life or weeks earlier.

"We talked again today. He seemed pretty
down, and I couldn't shake him out of it. I really wish I could
help, but I'm racking my brains and can't figure out how yet. Maybe
just moral support. He needs to make the change."

Maggie's breath quickened, and she searched
several preceding pages for a name to connect with "him". She found
none. Suddenly the phone rang, and Maggie jumped, then grabbed at
it.

"Maggie?"

"Uh-huh.”

"It's me, Dyna. Are you OK? You sound
funny."

"I'm all right, Dyna. I was just reading
something. What's up?"

"I wanted to tell you to go on to dinner
without me. I've got a rotten headache, so I'm going to hang around
here the rest of the night."

"That's too bad. Can I get you something for
it?"

"No, I avoid medications whenever possible.
I'm just going to do some deep breathing exercises, some chanting,
and try to meditate."

Maggie smiled, thinking that popping a
simple aspirin might save a whole lot of time and effort, then
shrugged. Whatever works.

"I hope you feel better, Dyna. Maybe being
out in that hot sun today brought it on."

"Yeah, maybe. I think letting myself get so
shook up in the ladies' room kinda upset my karma, too. That's why
I need to calm down."

Time to hang up. "Well, good luck. I'll see
you in the morning.” Maggie put down the phone and looked out the
window. Dyna's mention of dinner had surprised her. She hadn't
realized it was getting that late. But the long shadows outside, as
well as the empty feeling in her stomach convinced her.

She opened her suitcase and slipped in the
black book, then locked it. She glanced in the mirror and decided
the walking shorts and blouse she had on would do. The Highview was
not a dress-for-dinner kind of place. A touch of lipstick and a
quick fluff of her hair with the brush, and she was soon out her
door, locking it behind her.

Maggie looked around the dining room, which
was pleasantly decorated in shades of tan and amber, framed
watercolors and soft lighting, and chose a small table next to the
window. Only a few scattered tables still had diners. She was
studying the menu when a voice interrupted her. A thin, middle-aged
woman had stopped beside her.

"Hello, dear. How
are
you?” The question
was clearly more than just a polite greeting, and Maggie recognized
the woman who had been practicing on the next court when they found
Lori. She had a look of motherly concern on her face. Maggie
smiled.

"I'm fine. It’s nice of you to ask."

The woman introduced herself and the man who
now stood beside her as Charlotte and Don McManus.

"I wish I had known you were going to dine
here tonight. We would have been so glad for you to join us," she
said.

"That would have been great, but I'm okay,
really," Maggie said. But after they left, she was more conscious
of her alone-ness. She ordered dinner, then, needing to do
something other than gaze at the walls or the other diners, pulled
out a paper and pencil and started doodling. She soon found herself
sketching a small square, dividing it into nine parts, and filling
it slowly with numbers. She was making a "magic" square, a square
with differing numbers whose total in any direction - as well as
diagonal if you were good - was always the same.

As she worked, her mother's voice crept into
her head, exclaiming, as she often did, over Maggie's curious
pastimes. "Where you got your head for numbers, I don't know. Your
father and I need the calculator for anything at the bakery, and we
still sometimes mess up.” Then a warning followed, one that Maggie
heard many times and which still irritated her. "Don't let your
boyfriends see you doing that. You'll scare them away.” Maggie knew
her mother only echoed attitudes that had been drummed into her as
a girl. ‘Don't seem too smart. Let the man do all the talking. Hang
on his every word.’ Maggie felt she was enough of a woman of her
own generation to let most of that just roll off of her. But it
still grated on her. She wished her mother could just be proud of
her daughter's brightness instead of worrying that it made her
somehow unapproachable.

She put down her pencil and gazed out the
windows at the pretty, flower-lined walkway. The sun had sunk more
than halfway behind the mountain peaks, throwing the area into
shadows. Small lights began to blink on, and a young couple
strolled by, holding hands.

Maggie smiled at the
peaceful beauty of it, and, watching the couple, found herself
trying to remember when her last date was.
Did
she come across as too smart for
most men? Did she not let them do enough of the talking? Maggie
shook her head firmly. She wasn't going to let herself go down that
path.

"You don't approve of the landscaping?"

Maggie started and looked up. Rob Clayton
stood beside her table wearing casual shirt and slacks, and a wry
smile. "I told them," he said, "don't put the peonies next to the
lariope, but would they listen?"

Maggie smiled. "I think it all looks
perfectly lovely. My thoughts had been wandering to something
else.” She felt a twinge of embarrassment at that, and, annoyed
with herself, immediately squelched it.

"You looked like you could use someone to
share your thoughts with. There's nothing worse than eating alone
in a room full of other people talking to each other, don't you
think?"

"Absolutely. And I think it'd be great if you
would join me. That is, if you haven't eaten yet?"

"As a matter of fact I have, except for
dessert. So if you don't mind seeing me pig out on pecan pie then I
will join you. I hate eating alone too.” Rob pulled out the chair
opposite her, and caught the waitress's eye. She brought over his
dessert and coffee, and very soon, Maggie's order of baked
salmon.

Maggie pushed aside her "magic square"
doodle, but purposely left it out in plain sight, thinking to
herself with an inner smile that her mother would not approve. She
couldn't help wondering why Rob was alone. Surely an attractive man
like him.... She stopped that thought. This was another chance for
her to find out more about his connection with Lori and she needed
to concentrate on that.

"Hope I didn't overwork you at the lesson
today," Rob said, as Maggie slid her fork into her entree.

She shook her head. "I'm just so out of
condition. The work-out was good for me. And I could definitely see
my backhand improving. Now if I can remember what I learned I just
might be able to play a decent game of tennis."

"You've got a decent game already. Now you
can bring it up to a challenging one. And you'll have more fun with
it."

Maggie's thoughts jumped to her encounter
with Eric Semple after the lesson and the things he had said about
Rob. Should she bring it up? She felt reluctant to spoil the
pleasant mood. Maybe later.

"This isn't your first job as tennis
director, is it?" she asked.

"No, I've been at a few resorts like this.
The last one was up in Pennsylvania. But when this became available
I took it. It was a step up, and I like this area. Grew up not too
far from here, as a matter of fact.

"Really? So you have family nearby?"

"Well, my mother. She owns a small business
in Hagerstown."

"You said you started playing tennis at four.
Was she a player?"

Rob laughed. "No. Wherever I got my ability
for the game, it wasn't from her."

He didn't mention his father, Maggie
noticed. Not in the picture?

"But there were courts nearby where we
lived, in the park where Mom used to take me. The guy who was
giving tennis lessons there took a shine to me, and I took a shine
to the game. It just grew from there. Mom worked hard to get me
private lessons and send me to tennis camps as I grew up, second
jobs waitressing, and all. She sacrificed a lot.” Rob's face had
grown serious, and as if he realized it he suddenly grinned.

"Enough about me, though. Tell me about
you."

"There's not much to tell," Maggie said. She
took a sip of water. "I'm from Baltimore. Or rather, just outside
it. My folks have a bakery, and my brother Joe and I helped out in
it. Since it was open six days a week, it took up a lot of our
time. It probably taught us a lot, but the main thing I seemed to
get out of it was a determination never to go into a business of my
own. It can be all-consuming. You never get away from it."

"But you had all the cookies you could
eat?"

Maggie laughed. "That I did. And even though
working behind the counter was often tedious, our customers were
always in a good mood as they picked out their confection for the
day. I remember one summer, though, a weight-loss center opened up
right next door to us. A bad choice of location. They lasted one
season, then packed up and moved somewhere else. We were apparently
very bad for their client's will power."

Rob grinned. "So you went into teaching
instead of baking."

"I chose math, actually, then later decided
to teach it. It's been a good decision, so far.” She thought of
Rob's comfortable manner at the tennis lesson. "You have quite a
knack for teaching, yourself. I learned a lot from you, and those
two little boys whose lesson was right after mine certainly seemed
to enjoy it."

"Tyler and Travis? Yeah.” He grinned.
"They're great kids."

"They're how old - about ten? How do you
manage to make something like tennis fun for kids that age? I would
think they'd get bored with all the practice required."

"Ah, that's the trick.” Rob put down the
coffee cup he had raised halfway to his mouth and looked at Maggie,
his face animated. "You make a game of every part of it, changing
the game constantly while still repeating the motions they're going
through. They think they're doing something different all the time.
Like when they're learning to serve...."

Rob launched into a detailed description of
some of the things he had the twins go through, his expression
eager as he told of the successes of some of his strategies, and
humorously self-deprecating as he told of the failures. "They keep
me on my toes the whole time," he assured her.

Maggie listened with fascination - less with
the subject than at the change she saw come over the speaker. A
kind of glow of enthusiasm emanated from him. Rob had many sides to
him, that she had noticed before, and this definitely was one of
the nicer ones.

"You seem to really enjoy working with
kids," she said when he finished.

His smile became a bit embarrassed, and he
looked down at his plate, scraping the last crumbs of his pecan pie
together with his fork. "Yeah, I do."

Could someone like this ever actually beat
up a girlfriend” Or maybe worse? Maggie struggled with the
thought.

"And I think I'm good at it," Rob said. "In
fact,” he paused and looked out the window as though deciding
whether to say more, then turned back to Maggie. "I have a dream of
having my own tennis camp for kids, someday.” He seemed to wait for
her reaction before saying more.

"Really? What a great idea,” Maggie said,
meaning it sincerely on one level, but conscious of an uneasiness
on another. There were still too many questions in her mind about
this man.

He seemed to grab at the enthusiasm in her
voice, though, and launched into a description of what he had in
mind. "Of course, this all depends on a lot of things - major
things. Financial backing for one."

"I’ll bet you'll work it out," Maggie said.
"When people want something badly enough, they usually find a way
to get it.” She added with a smile, "I can't help thinking of that
old Chinese proverb, though. `Be careful what you wish for. You
just might get it.'"

Rob laughed. "I know. Like, I might find
myself someday surrounded by whining, screaming, snot-nosed kids,
and wondering how the hell to get out of it all."'

"Something like that."