Line Dancing Can Be Murder (5 page)

My narrowed gaze connected with Crystal’s. All this menopause talk sobered me up in a New York minute.

“I didn’t mean to start these ladies talking about their sex lives,” Crystal whispered behind her hand. “I just wanted to distract them from the subject of my failed marriage.”

“Well, you certainly did that.”

“Would it be rude for us to leave?”

I shook my head and made our apologies. “Will you excuse us, ladies? We’re going back to our rooms. It’s been a long day, and the rooster will crow early in the morning.” Crystal gave me a hand out of the hot tub and I wrapped my gigantic beach towel around my body. “You really are a bunch of fun broads. See you tomorrow at breakfast or on the bus.”

“Good night,” they called to our backs.

Once we stepped inside the hotel and were well out of earshot, Crystal and I broke down and laughed until tears ran down our faces. “Those women are firecrackers,” she said.

“I expect we’ll be just like them when we’re that age. Once you reach a certain point in your life, there’s no reason not to be honest and say whatever you want. Of course, I usually say what’s on my mind, anyway.”

“You’ve never minced words, even when we were kids,” Crystal said.

I hurried Crystal past the 24-hour casino as we made our way to the elevator. “What can I say? I was born an opinionated big mouth.”

She smiled. “I wish I was as secure as you. The five of us could all take lessons from you about having confidence.”

I pushed the elevator button and frowned. “I wish y’all would knock me off the pedestal you’ve placed me on. I’m not perfect, you know. I have faults, a lot of them. Why do you think I’ve never been married?”

The elevator door opened and we stepped inside. “You could have married,” she replied. “Dale was crazy about you. So was Curt. Both of them were good guys. I never understood why you broke off your engagements. Have you missed not being a wife and mother? I miss being a wife, and I wanted children desperately. Now it’s too late.”

Not intending to engage in the same conversation I’d had with Crystal countless times since her divorce, I stared at the light above the door and tapped my foot as the elevator slowly made its way to the tenth floor.

“Is Phil a good kisser?” she blurted as the door opened on our floor.

We stepped into the deserted hallway and I whispered, “I didn’t think you knew about him. We’ve been careful to keep our trysts covert.”

She whispered back. “You can’t keep that kind of secret from one of your best friends, Teresa. Sure I know about Phil, but I respect you enough not to ask questions since it’s obvious you don’t want to confide in me.” She put on her hurt face.

“I share plenty with you. But my relationships are personal and private, especially with Phil. That’s how he and I prefer it.”

I walked Crystal to her door, which was two doors down from mine. The air conditioning in the hotel was freezing. My body quivered as I stood in the hallway in my wet swimsuit and damp towel. “Why did you ask about kissing?”

“Sex was never that great with Greg,” she answered. “It started going downhill a few years after our wedding, but Greg never wanted to talk about our problems. I figured I wasn’t sexy enough for him since I gained a few pounds. At least he always made me feel like
I
was the problem, not him. In the months leading up to his leaving, we didn’t go to bed without him making a snide comment about my
thunder thighs
or
jelly belly
. The truth was, he was a selfish jerk, in bed and out. I don’t miss him, but I do miss kissing a man. You should thank your lucky stars you get kissed regularly.”

I thought about the way Phil’s mustache tickles when he kisses me. He was a great kisser. In fact, on a scale from one to ten, he was a solid twelve. Crystal was right. I’d miss kissing, too, if I couldn’t count on it frequently.

“When I was a kid,” she continued, “I practiced kissing using my pillow. Did you ever do that?”

“Sure. Didn’t everyone practice that way?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t talk about stuff like that when we were kids. Anyway, I haven’t kissed a man in over three years. And I’m as parched as this Nevada desert for that kind of intimacy.”

“Three years?” I tried to remember whom she’d dated last. Had it been that long ago? “You went out with that guy from Champaign for awhile. Didn’t you ever kiss him?”

She blew me a raspberry. “He didn’t even try until the fourth date. Then when he finally screwed up the courage, he mashed his lips on mine and they felt like wet Jello with a side of slobber. To add insult to injury, his tongue awkwardly probed my mouth like a darting snake. Nauseated, I had to push him away. Honestly, I almost puked on his shoes. Needless to say, I never saw him again. Kissing is that important to me.”

“Oh, Crystal, I’m sorry. You’re going to meet the right guy someday. It’ll happen when you least expect it.” I squeezed her arm hoping my small act of empathy would be enough for the night. I’d given her this same pep talk before. Right then, my teeth chattered and my leg jumped because I needed to pee. If I caught pneumonia, I was going to send her the hospital bill.

She stared at my dancing leg. “I can tell you’re cold. I’ll let you go change and get to bed. Sorry for boring you with my sad tales.”

No one was better at gentle manipulation than Crystal. Fortunately, I knew her game well and wouldn’t be intimidated by guilt. “Good night and sweet dreams,” I said cheerfully while shuffling toward my door.

“Maybe I’ll dream about Keith,” she whispered. “Now there’s a man I’d like to do some serious lip locking with.”

A vision flashed through my mind of the two of them. I didn’t know why at the time, but the image of Crystal and our tour director together gave me a creepy feeling; like someone had walked over my grave. Of course, as you already know, turns out it wasn’t
my
grave we’d be talking about at the end of our vacation.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Heavenly Bodies

Air conditioning, reclining seats, televisions, and an on board restroom made traveling aboard the motor coach more comfortable than I’d expected. Energy and excitement sizzled through the bus on our first day out as Wayne sped alongside Utah’s Virgin River.

Keith stood at the front of the bus wearing khaki shorts and a muscle-hugging tee shirt talking into a portable microphone. “We’ll be driving about twenty-five hundred miles on this tour. Our first stop will be in St. George, where we’ll pick up food for a picnic lunch later. Then we’ll head to Utah’s first national park, the beautiful Zion National, which means heavenly place of God. While there, we’ll be following the paths where ancient native people and pioneers walked and where massive sandstone cliffs of cream, pink, and red soar into a brilliant blue sky. When we stop tonight, we’ll be at an altitude of almost eight thousand feet.”

He then regaled us with scary stories about how altitude sickness has affected people on his past tours. Twice I’ve lost my lunch while on boats and hoped the high altitudes wouldn’t affect me in the same way.

“Tonight we’ll be staying near Bryce Canyon at a place called Ruby’s Inn,” he continued. “For those who are interested, you can watch bronco busters and cowboys display their skills as they perform in a rodeo starting at seven o’clock.”

“Will the cowboys be as handsome as you?” a woman called out. I craned my head to see it was Doris who spoke. Chuckles sifted through the bus, and Keith flashed a disarming grin.

“Are you flirting with me, Doris, you little cougar?”

She clawed the air with her fingers and roared her response, causing us all to laugh again.

It was impressive that we were on our first day out and Keith seemed to have put names to faces already. Although his gaze brushed over everyone as people began raising their hands and asking questions about the itinerary, I noticed his eyes kept focusing on Jackie. I was sitting next to her, and we were two rows behind where he stood. My observation of him was as subtle as his attempt to catch her attention. When I saw their gazes connect and she smiled her cat smile, I elbowed her in the rib—hard.

“Wouldn’t your husband just love to see a rodeo, Jackie?” Shameless, I said it loud enough for Keith to hear. “You’d probably have to tie him down to keep him from trying to ride one of those bulls.” I swallowed a chuckle at imagining poor old Milton astride a bucking horse or bull. Jackie’s fiery eyes stabbed at me like daggers, but I didn’t care. I think I made my point. Keith’s gaze flicked away.

When we arrived at the park, the bus door swung open. “We’re here!” Wayne announced. “Everyone watch your step as you exit the coach.”

Keith jaunted to the bottom of the steps. “Feel free to wander the area on your own,” he said to each person as we trailed off the bus. “We’ll meet in front of the Zion lodge for a picnic lunch at noon.” He offered his assistance as I wobbled on the steps (my foot had gone to sleep and hadn’t woken up yet) and then he reached for Jackie’s hand. I noticed he held her hand a little longer than was necessary. “Be sure to check out the emerald pools and waterfall,” he told her. “The pools are almost as clear and green as your eyes.”

“We’ll be sure to. Thanks for the tip,” she replied, flipping on her sunglasses and swinging her hips like a pendulum as she walked away. My body was still in pretty good shape, but if I moved my hips that way, I’d be flat on my back for a day.

“Let’s check out the visitors center over there,” Donna said, grabbing my arm and pulling me that way. Our friends followed. Inside, we watched a short video and then stood on a deck outside the building to gaze upon the red sandstone peaks, one of which was called the Watchman. Behind the Watchmen was the West Temple. According to the brochure, it rose 3800 feet. Along the Watchman Trail, we got an excellent view of the Towers of the Virgin, which included the Sundial, the Meridian Tower, and the Alter of Sacrifice.

“Have you ever seen anything so stunning?” Annette asked, clearly in awe—as we all were.

Kim skimmed through a pamphlet about the park. “According to this, some people claim to see the shrouded figure of the Virgin Mary on the face of the peak.”

The rugged beauty of the peaks and cliffs had us mesmerized. Surprisingly, no one even cracked a single joke about virgins.

After hiking up to the emerald pools and waterfall and back, it was time for lunch. The grounds in front of the Zion lodge were full of tourists picnicking. Wayne and Keith were stationed at a picnic table handing out sack lunches to our group that the two of them had put together.

“Did you see the waterfall?” Keith asked Jackie when we approached.

“Yes, but my feet are killing me after all the walking.” She pointed to her impractical sandals. “I’ll have to wear different shoes from now on.”

“There’s a lot of walking on this tour,” he said. “Tennis shoes are recommended, unless you brought along a personal masseuse to rub your feet at night.”

Always the flirt, Jackie took advantage of his comment. She batted her eyelashes and cooed, “Perhaps you could recommend someone with strong hands.”

When I shoved her out of the way and reached for my sack lunch, Keith shrugged and smiled. “Hope you like what we packed for you.”

“What you’re packing looks just fine to me,” Jackie said under her breath. There was no way Keith could have missed the way she looked him up and down before I wheeled her away.

“Get a grip,” I groaned. “You’re not a cat in heat.” I dragged her toward a group from our tour that was sitting on the grass. The five ladies Donna and I had shared a hot tub with were there, as were Romeo and Casanova.

“Hey, girls!” Chuck called. “Sit with us and rest your bones.” He waved his sandwich in the air.

“Hi, everyone.” I sat cross-legged in the grass hoping I’d be able to get up again when it came time. Jackie spread her napkin onto the grass before sitting so she wouldn’t get her white shorts dirty. We dug into our lunches of sandwiches and chips. After all the hiking we’d done, I was famished and thirsty.

“Have you seen our friends?” I asked the group after downing half of my bottled water in one long swallow.

Someone pointed to another circle of people not far away. “They’re over there getting to know more of the people in our group.”

Donna and Annette seemed to be enjoying a conversation with a couple we’d learned was from Australia. Crystal was mugging for someone with a camera, and Kim was holding her cell phone into the air, probably trying to get some bars.

Jackie saw her, too, and rolled her eyes. “Look at Kim trying to find a cell phone connection out here. Honestly, she’s worse than a teenager the way she constantly has that phone glued to her ear. I don’t know why she feels the need to check in with Eddie so often. I’ve never understood what she sees in him.”

I shot Jackie a look that suggested she shouldn’t be airing our friend’s business in front of strangers.

“She must be in love and likes to hear his voice,” Barb said. “I remember that feeling, although it’s been a while.”

“Or maybe she’s calling to check up on him,” Winnie added with a knowing look. “Although he never cheated, as far as I know, my deceased husband had a wandering eye. Your friend might be worried about what her man is doing when she’s not around.”

I knew that to be closer to the truth, but I wasn’t about to talk behind Kim’s back.

“He hasn’t got a penny to his name,” Jackie said, nibbling a cookie. “And believe me, he’s no looker. No one would want him.”

“There’s more to love than money and looks,” Chuck said, peering from under the rim of his golf cap.

Jackie laughed. “Not in my world, Chuck.”

“Are you married?” Norma asked her.

Jackie flashed her ten-carat diamond in response.

“Darn,” Chuck grumbled. “Why are all the cute ones hitched?”

“I’m single and cute,” Doris piped up, winking at Chuck. Despite her feisty attitude and good personality, she was short and shaped like a bowling ball. He ignored her and bit into his sandwich.

“Your husband must be very wealthy to afford a ring that size,” Norma said, peering closer. “Is he terribly handsome, too? I expect he resembles a movie star, since you’re so young and beautiful.”