Booking A Killer Vacation Page 2

  Despite having spent more time on his surfboard than he had in their honeymoon bed, Tommy didn’t even manage to place in the competition. Through love-struck eyes, Kelly didn’t see what the judges saw: Tommy was not a very good surfer.

  The honeymoon, such as it was, hadn’t lasted long. Tommy’s work demanded plenty of travel. She mostly heard from her husband by phone, text or email when he wanted her to send him money, mostly to such locations as Bondi Beach, Playa Grande and Huntington Beach.

  Meanwhile, she had completed her BA degree and was stuck in a cubicle drafting ads for a small advertising firm in an office park on the outskirts of Columbia. Kelly quickly realized that Tommy was more of a sea sponge than a surfer, expecting her to work long hours while he hit the waves and hit on the ubiquitous beach bunnies.

  She divorced him during his month-long surfing adventure in the south of Spain. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Theirs had been a whirlwind courtship and a relatively pain-free divorce.

  Lesson learned. Or so she thought. Vowing not to make the same mistake she had made with Tommy, Kelly took her time, dating a seemingly endless line of suitors until she met Alan on a blind date set up by her then best friend from her college days.

  Alan Green looked good on paper. He looked good in person too. Thick dark hair, deep blue eyes and pale skin. He was everything that Tommy wasn’t, including employed. All points in his favor.

  Unfortunately, once Alan had what he wanted—a wife to bring to parties at the club—he paid her no attention. When she suggested she put her advertising expertise to use in helping run her husband’s two hundred unit vacation property with eight clay tennis courts, a day spa and a championship golf course, he nipped the idea in the bud. Alan believed she would best serve them both by maintaining the home front.

  So after seven years of loveless living, marriage number two ended, not with a bang and with barely a whimper.

  Kelly had taken her small divorce settlement and, with the help of a large bank loan, bought the inn. She wanted no help from Alan, although he had offered to come up and lend his expertise. At the time, it seemed like the perfect way for her to move forward with her life and she would be helping out Aunt Ruth at the same time.

  Now she was beginning to wonder if she had been hasty in her decision to prove to herself, her exes and the world that she had what it took to run her own business.

  As for marriage, she had vowed: Never Again.

  Aunt Ruth yawned as if she’d been reading Kelly’s mind and reliving her memories with her.

  “Why don’t you go on to bed and get some rest?” Kelly suggested once more. “It’s after nine. I’ll finish up here.”

  Kelly adored the vintage kitchen with its teal appliances and cabinets, butcher block counters and checkerboard floor. She was glad her aunt had retained its old-fashioned charm over the long years.

  “I suppose,” Ruth sighed. She pushed off from the table and rubbed the small of her back. Crossing to the doorway to the dining room, she called out, “Goodnight, Harry.”

  Harry Leyland looked up from his second helping of tofu loaf. He had come in to dinner late and was the last diner to remain. “Goodnight, Mrs. Evans. Will I see you in the morning before you go?”

  “Absolutely.” Aunt Ruth waved to the young man, pecked Kelly’s left cheek and exited to the courtyard.

  “That’s one sweet old lady.” Harry Leland dabbed his chin with a cloth napkin. Aunt Ruth insisted on using real linens instead of paper.

  “That she is. Are you about done?” Kelly eyed the sliver of tofu resting on the edge of his plate.

  “Yes, thanks.” Catching her eye, he added, “That’s for Sharky.”

  “Good idea.” Kelly smiled and picked up the plate. “I’ll take it to him.” Sharky was the young Chartreux cat who had adopted the inn some months back, according to her aunt. Ruth said she had tried to bring him indoors but the cat was having none of it.

  While he didn’t mind the occasional foray indoors, the outdoors belonged to Sharky. The same way the Beach Lovers Inn did. Sharky treated the courtyard as his private domain and considered the beach his kingdom.

  “Is the pie gone?” Harry Leland asked with hope-filled eyes.

  As much as Kelly wanted to say yes and move the odd fellow along so she could finish cleaning up, she said, “I saved a piece. I’ll bring it to you after I feed Sharky, Mr. Leland.” She eyed the food scrap skeptically. “Are you certain he’s going to eat this? It’s tofu, not tuna.”

  “Definitely.” Harry Leland licked his chops.

  Kelly skeptically carried the scrap of tofu loaf to the door leading out to the courtyard. “Here, Sharky. I’ve got something for you!”

  Kelly heard an excited mewl. A moment later, the beautiful gray cat came jogging toward her from behind the stairs. “I’ve got a nice treat for you. Auntie’s homemade tofu loaf.”

  Ruth was always catering to everyone’s needs, even when those needs included fare such as tofu for Mr. Leland whom she had learned was a strict vegetarian.

  Kelly set the meatless treat in the first of the stainless steel dishes at the door. The second dish held fresh water.

  Sharky took a tentative sniff—who could blame him? Then, to her great surprise, ate while she stroked the silky fur along his back.

  The blue-gray cat was pleasant and placid and spent much of his days sunbathing in the courtyard. Aunt Ruth had read up on the history of the Chartreux a few days after the cat had taken up residency. Ruth had explained to Kelly that the breed was thought to have originated in Persia and been brought to France by knights returning from the Crusades.

  Kelly believed it. Sharky had the attitude of a returned and very much retired ex-Crusader himself.

  With the treat safely ensconced in his belly, Sharky resumed his nightly prowl. Kelly returned to the kitchen, washed her hands and took Harry his dessert.

  While Harry Leland polished off his sweet potato pie, Kelly cleared the last of the tables. After licking his fork clean, Harry picked up his plate and glass. “I’ll take these to the kitchen.”

  “You don’t have to bother. I’ll do it.” Kelly hooked a damp cloth over her apron tie. “You are a guest.”

  Despite the dim yellow lighting of the lone chandelier, Harry seemed to color. His skin took on a jaundiced appearance. “I don’t mind.” He took his things to the kitchen.

  “That is one odd bird.” Kelly moved to the last dining table and began wiping her rag in lazy circles. She heard voices and laughter coming from the pool patio and peeked outside. The reunion crowd had gotten the party started.

  She hoped they wouldn’t party too late. Every little sound was amplified as it bounced off the stucco walls and concrete deck. There were other guests to consider. Plus, Aunt Ruth was going to need a good night’s rest before her long travel day tomorrow.

  Making sure that the insulated stainless steel cold and hot water urns were filled, Kelly locked the doors to the kitchen and dining room. Only staff had access to certain areas after hours.

  The small foyer, although locked as well, could be accessed with any guest key. Aunt Ruth liked to keep the foyer available twenty-four hours a day for her guests. Instant coffee, teabags, an assortment of sweeteners and, as often as not, a baked good or candy were regularly left out on the large serving platter. Guests could freely help themselves.

  Tonight, there were stacks of fresh-baked oatmeal raisin cookies. She lifted the glass lid and took a whiff.

  She also took two cookies.

  Waist-high bookcases stood on the opposite wall, built by her late uncle. This was the inn’s lending library for guests. Kelly scanned the titles and opted for David Copperfield. There was also a rack filled with DVDs but she was in a mood to read.

  Climbing the stairs to her second floor room, Kelly waved to George Easterling, a part-time employee of the inn. George had been one of Jim and Ruth’s first employees. Kelly used to visit the inn as a child and couldn’t remember a tim
e when George wasn’t puttering around the property, tool in hand.

  Recently, he had been putting in extra hours to assist with the inn’s upcoming transition and the scheduled reunion preparations. At the moment, he was gamely trying to slide a heavy outdoor fire pit from nearer the storage shed at the rear of the property to the swimming pool at the request of one of the guests.

  Kelly was about to run down and help when, mercifully, two of the male guests jumped from their seats, lowered their drinks and offered to assist.

  Up in her room, Kelly tossed her book on the bed nearest the window. She washed up and exchanged her jeans and ocean blue Beach Lovers Inn polo shirt for a pair of light cotton pajamas. Taking out her contact lenses, she studied her reflection in the patinated mirror of the medicine chest.

  Kelly saw a twice married, twice divorced woman of forty-one going on fifty. She had cut her hair after the divorce. But that was six months ago and now her brown hair was creeping back down to her shoulders.

  The gray was back too. But it wouldn’t be for long. She tugged at a silvery strand. “Tomorrow, you go.” She had bought a self-coloring kit at the drugstore. She was going for bronde, a nice beachy compromise between her natural brunette and the all-out beach blonde that she didn’t think she could pull off.

  Settling in her queen-sized bed, Kelly picked up her novel and read to the accompanying clicking of the ceiling fan blades fighting their way through the warm, humid air. She wasn’t generally a fan of air conditioning but, if she hadn’t been so tired, she would have gotten up, shut the windows and switched on the wall unit for relief.

  A dog barked somewhere far off, another answered, closer. A light breeze off the Atlantic susurrated through the palm trees. Somewhere out there, she imagined Sharky prowling his kingdom.

  Kelly fell asleep in the middle of reading about David Copperfield’s fall into disgrace, with the bedside light glowing and the heavy book open on her chest.

  Kelly slept fitfully, partly due to the heat and humidity, partly due to the enormity of the path she saw ahead of her.

  She woke with a start. Sitting up quickly, half-forgetting where she was for a moment, the thick novel hit the floor. “Oh!”

  The bedsheets were damp.

  Bending to retrieve the book, Kelly heard a scream, followed by quick steps and urgent voices. A glance at the alarm clock told her that it was just past midnight.

  Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

  Kelly threw her legs over the side of the bed and ran to the bathroom. She kept a knee-length bathrobe on a metal hook behind the door. She pushed her arms through the terry cloth sleeves and threw open her front door, stepping out on the balcony.

  “What’s going on?” Kelly demanded, hurrying along the walkway, pushing sleep-sculpted hair from her eyes. “What is it?”

  The Beach Lovers Inn consisted of a U-shaped two-story building with the open end facing the Atlantic Ocean. The bottom of the U was broken at ground level by the eight-foot wide breezeway separating the northside wing from the southside. Rooms occupied both floors. Except for the bottom floor northside, there were four guest rooms on each floor of each wing, for a total of fifteen.

  The northside also contained the first-floor kitchen and breakfast slash dining room, which was why there were only three guest rooms in that wing. The lobby and connecting office was on the ground floor on the southside. A small garage was also located on that side of the inn.

  The hotel’s architect had rightly chosen that no guest facilities be located in the front. Beach Lovers Inn sat along North Ocean Boulevard, one of Myrtle Beach’s busiest roads. Much better to look at the ocean than the passing traffic.

  The only thing Kelly might have changed about that inn was to have the kitchen and dining room beachside, creating a restaurant with a view not only for the benefit of the guests but as a way of drawing in more dining traffic from non-guests.

  The owner’s quarters, Aunt Ruth’s residence, was on the second floor, street side, in the north wing. She and Uncle Jim had kept the best rooms for the paying guests.

  Aunt Ruth was not in her room now though. Kelly blew out a sharp breath as if she’d been punched in the gut by the heavyweight champion of the world as she leaned over the railing and peered down.

  A small, tense group was huddled around her aunt who was lying in a heap at the bottom of the steps of the opposite stairway.

  2

  “There’s been an accident!” a man’s voice called up to her.

  Kelly’s frozen limbs snapped loose. She flew down the steps, running across the courtyard and jerking to a halt. “Auntie!”

  Several people hovered over Ruth Evans where she lay in a puddle of arms and legs and blood. Her purple robe looked black in the low light cast by the few landscape lights that were in the garden beds scattered around the courtyard.

  Aunt Ruth’s blue-gray eyes were mere slits. Her left arm was twisted behind her and her long robe was pulled up to her waist. She wore white cotton pajamas underneath the robe. Her right knee was bent and her left leg, showing signs of heavy scraping was angled out. Her breath was shallow but at least she was still breathing.

  “It looks like your aunt fell,” suggested Dr. Barron. He knelt beside her and tilted his eyes towards the exterior stairway.

  Kelly sank to her knees. “Auntie,” she whispered, resting her fingers lightly on Ruth’s right hand. “It’s okay. Hang on.” Kelly looked up wildly. “Somebody call for help!”

  “Already done,” Dr. Barron said calmly. He laid a hand on Kelly’s trembling shoulder. “The ambulance should be here any minute.”

  “Help me.” Kelly gingerly took her aunt’s arm.

  Dr. Barron held her back. “I don’t think we should move her.”

  “Right.” Kelly’s jaw tightened. “What happened? What is she doing out here?”

  “She probably came downstairs to get something from the kitchen or the office,” suggested Mrs. Barron, hovering over Ruth.

  Kelly rearranged Aunt Ruth’s robe around her. Her aunt deserved some dignity. “Why would she do that? She has a kitchenette in her apartment. And what could she possibly want from the office at this hour?”

  Mrs. Barron shrugged. “I do hope she will be all right. What do you think, Charlie?”

  “Let’s hope for the best,” said her husband, gently probing Ruth’s injuries.

  “I couldn’t sleep and was watching the television,” said a tall, thin man with red hair. Kelly thought his name was Irwin Brunner. “I heard the…” His tongue moved around the inside of his mouth as if rooting around for the proper word. “A thump,” he said finally. “Felt it too.”

  Kelly shivered. She wished Irwin would shut up.

  Mr. and Mrs. Dennis, one of the reunion couples, stood off to one side, leaning against an outdoor umbrella table. Mr. Dennis consoled his wife, wrapping his arms around her. Kelly heard their whispers but could not make out their words. Both wore long-sleeved pajamas and slippers.

  George Easterling shuffled up from the street. Harsh red lights glowed behind him. The piercing sirens Kelly had been hearing suddenly cut off. “The ambulance is here.” A large black flashlight dangled from the loop of his knee-length overalls. A thick shock of gray-black hair fell free as he raised his ball cap and wiped his brow with it.

  “Thank you, George,” whispered Kelly. “I thought you’d gone home.”

  “I stayed behind to clean up. I didn’t want the place looking a mess first thing in the morning.” He looked accusingly at the inn’s guests. George liked things neat. “I’ll check the utility closet.” He loped off.

  “Step aside, please.” A determined man in a blue uniform strode into the courtyard.

  George pulled a switch. More exterior lights blinked on, casting them all in a bath of light as if they were on a theater stage.

  Two more men in blue rolled a yellow folding stretcher into the courtyard. They were followed by a firefighter in full gear and two police officers in na
vy blue uniforms.

  From her vantage beside her fallen aunt, Kelly saw the ambulance and the nose of a firetruck. Several curious faces peered into the courtyard from the sidewalk. An officer kept them from coming closer.

  The first EMS technician urged them all away from Ruth. Dropping to his knees, he felt Ruth’s pulse at her wrist and neck. His lips formed a straight line.

  “Is she—” Kelly knew it was useless to ask but she asked anyway. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “She’s in rough shape.” The man stood. Despite his youthful appearance, Kelly thought she heard his knees crack. “Do you know her?”

  “She’s my aunt.”

  “Sorry.” He motioned for the other EMS crew members and they pushed the cart beside her aunt.

  A police officer approached Kelly. “I’m Officer Lowe. You say the woman is your aunt?” He had a strong chin and a deep tan.

  Kelly nodded numbly.

  “I’m very sorry.” Officer Lowe faced the small crowd. “Does anybody know what happened?”

  “She fell down the stairs,” said Dr. Barron.

  “Did you see her fall, sir?” The officer pulled a pad and paper from his front pocket.

  “No, officer. But that seems most likely,” Dr. Barron replied. He glanced at his wife who nodded. “We heard noises.”

  “Muffled noises,” put in his wife, pressing her shoulder against her husband’s.

  Dr. Barron continued. “I came outside to have a look. That’s when I spotted her.”

  “Probably tripped on her robe or just plain lost her balance,” put in Mrs. Barron.

  “I always told Ruth she should be more careful. She’s not as young as she used to be.” George had reappeared. He cleared his throat, resting his hand on the stair rail. “I always told her the stairs should be better lit too.” The bannister rattled as he thumped it with his palm.