Model Suspect 3 (4 page)

I smiled sheepishly. Was it my imagination, or had she shot me a quick look when she’d said that?

“Yeah,” I said. “Um, listen, Akinyi, once again I’m really sorry about everything that happened. It’s just that when I heard that story about Vic making Jamal lose his job, and then we found the raincoat and stuff in your rooms …”

“Never mind.” She made a sort of sweeping motion, as if pushing away my apology. “It doesn’t matter.” She glanced over at the TV camera, which was still rolling. “We needn’t speak of it.”

I wasn’t sure if she meant she didn’t want to talk about the incident at all, or just when the camera was filming us. Either way I was happy to let the subject drop.

“So,” Bess said to Akinyi, “this resort seems really nice. Have you had a chance to—”

Whatever she was going to ask was cut off by a sudden ear-piercing, high-pitched alarm blasting out of the speakers in the seating area. Along with that came a flurry of slightly muffled yells and screams from somewhere not too far away, topped by one panicky shout that rang out over the rest:

“Fire!”

FIRE AND WATER

“Oh!” Akinyi exclaimed, clutching at her heart. I forgot to mention one other thing about her. She’s one of the most neurotic people I’ve ever met. Every little thing sends her into a tizzy.

“Come on!” George shouted, springing into action. “Let’s go see what’s going on!”

We all raced off in the direction of the shouts. Right around the corner from where we were was a huge, open-sided thatched building that I guessed must be the resort’s main dining room. It held dozens of rustic wooden tables, large and small, with tropical centerpieces and woven placemats. In the center
of the room was what appeared to be a small dance floor. At the moment about a dozen people, most dressed in resort uniforms, were milling around there, and a few puffs of smoke were drifting up toward the high ceiling where they were dissipated quickly by the overhead fans.

“What’s going on?” Madge called out, pushing past us to hurry forward.

The crowd parted, revealing a familiar figure—a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a blond buzzcut and a sheepish expression. “Hey look, it’s Bo,” George commented.

I was a little surprised, though I shouldn’t have been. Bo Champion had been one of Vic’s
Daredevils
costars and was now one of his closest friends. He’d also been a member of the wedding party. Speaking of parties, Bo was the type of guy who never missed one. It was no wonder he’d decided to tag along to Cayo de Oro, especially now that it seemed half the wedding party was invited. Still, his unexpected presence made me wonder….

“Sorry about that, everyone,” Bo called out. He glanced down and stomped on a spark smoldering on the jute rug at his feet. “I was just, uh, showing Lainie here my excellent fire-juggling skills, since she never saw the episode of the show where I did it.” He laughed and shrugged. “Guess I’m a little out of practice.”

“Figures. He’s been showing off for her all week,” someone muttered just behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that it was the
Daredevils
cameraman who’d been filming Akinyi’s photo session. “Really?” I asked him. “You mean Bo likes that girl?” I glanced at the pretty young woman he’d called Lainie, vaguely recognizing her as one of the makeup artists from the production crew. She had a cheerful smile, thick strawberry blond hair, and a distinctive mole on her chin.

The cameraman looked startled, as if he hadn’t expected to be overheard. “You didn’t hear it from me, all right?” he said. Then he shouldered his camera, hit the on button, and hurried forward to film Bo as he continued to apologize.

“It’s okay, Bo,” Lainie was saying. She giggled and tossed her lush, shoulder-length hair back over one shoulder. “Your demonstration was very impressive.”

Bo grinned back at her, suddenly seeming unaware of the watching crowd. I hid a smile.

“Did you hear what the camera guy said?” I murmured to my friends. “Sounds like we might have a little side romance going on here.”

“Cute,” Bess declared. “I just hope they’re not snagged by that same clause that got Pandora and Dragon in trouble.”

“Doubtful,” I replied. “I’d have to look at the exact
language again, but I’m thinking that only applies to relationships that existed prior to or during the filming of the season in question. Since Bo’s been off the show for over a year now, and is presumably just now getting involved with a crew member, they should be okay.”

George laughed. “Spoken like a lawyer’s daughter,” she joked. “Carson would be proud.”

The excitement over, most of the crowd was already drifting away. A couple of employees turned up with brooms and dustpans and began cleaning up the charred remains of whatever it was that Bo had accidentally set on fire, which appeared to be a palm frond from one of the flower arrangements and the corner of a rug.

Just then another familiar figure appeared, this one tall and lanky with a head of short black spikes. “Vic!” Bo called out. “Yo, dude, you missed all the fun.”

“I heard.” Sydney’s husband strode toward his friend, a grin on his thin, handsome face. “Trying to burn down my honeymoon, bro?” He glanced over at Lainie and winked. “Or were you trying to start another kind of fire?”

Lainie blushed. “Excuse me,” she said. “I was only supposed to be on a fifteen-minute break. I’d better get back to work.”

She hurried off, disappearing around the corner.
“Come on,” I told my friends. “Let’s go talk to Vic. He probably knows where Syd is.”

“Hey there!” Vic greeted us as we approached. “You made it! Thanks so much for coming down—Sydney will be relieved to see you.”

“You’re welcome.” I smiled at him, then turned to Bo. “Long time no see. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Bo chuckled. “Hey, I’m always up for a vacation,” he said. “When I heard the private honeymoon was turning into a party, I decided to cancel my other plans and fly down.”

That was pretty much what I’d just been thinking. Still, I couldn’t help wondering if we’d been overlooking Bo as a suspect all along. True, it was hard to imagine Vic’s good-natured, easygoing buddy being behind the jet fuel incident or the other terrible stuff that had happened—or what kind of motive he might have for doing any of it, for that matter. On the other hand, he’d been around for most of the mischief, and easily could have pulled most of it off….

“So where’s your beautiful bride?” Bess was asking Vic. “We just got here, so we haven’t seen her yet.”

“She’s at the spa.” Vic sighed. “Needless to say, she’s, uh, a little tense, so she decided to get a massage while she was waiting for you to get here.”

I nodded. “So have you figured out anything about what happened?”

“Um, not exactly. I mean, I think Sydney can explain when you see her.” Vic glanced over my shoulder.

Looking back that way myself, I saw that Butch and the other cameraman were back there filming away. It figured. Vic probably couldn’t so much as poke his nose out of his bungalow without being on camera. After all, he was the star of this show.

At that moment Jamal hurried into the dining hall. “Hey, there you are,” he greeted the other two guys. Then he blinked, suddenly noticing my friends and me standing there. “Oh, hello.” He shot a slightly nervous glance at the cameramen, then returned his attention to us. “Uh, welcome to Cayo de Oro. Good to see you again.”

“Same here,” Bess said politely.

It didn’t take a detective to see that the guys didn’t want to talk about the situation while the cameras were rolling. Neither did I.

“Okay, um, see you later,” I said, trying to act casual. “Guess we’ll, um, go say hi to Syd, um, now.”

What can I say? I’m a detective, not an actress.

Vic glanced at the two cameramen, who appeared to be holding a whispered discussion. I winced, guessing that they were deciding which of them would stay with the guys while the other accompanied us to film our reunion with Sydney. As far as I knew,
they had no idea why we were really there. But that wouldn’t stop them. I was pretty sure they were under orders to film any encounter with either member of the main couple.

Before I could figure out what to do, Vic spoke up again. “Yo, dudes,” he said to Bo and Jamal. “I was just thinking, it’d be fun to play a little game of extreme dodgeball with a coconut instead of a ball.” He shot a wicked grin and wink in the direction of the cameras. “Might leave some bruises, but that just makes it easier to tell who won. You guys up for it?”

“You bet!” Bo said immediately.

Jamal laughed. “Come on, V. Let’s show him how we play—Jersey style!”

The three of them raced off, whooping and hollering. The cameramen muttered a few more words to each other, shot us an uncertain look, and then rushed off after the three guys.

Whew! I guessed the prospect of getting extra angles on the nutty action of the impromptu game had overruled the potential value of our quiet spa moment with Sydney. That had been quick thinking on Vic’s part. He might come across on TV as nothing more than a brainless, attention-starved daredevil, but in real life he had a lot more than that going for him. No wonder Sydney had fallen for the guy.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before Madge sends
another camera to follow us,” I told my friends.

Bess nodded. “I saw a sign for the spa on our way here—I think it’s this way.”

It didn’t take us long to find the resort’s spa. Like most of its lodgings, it was located in one of those private thatched huts on the warren of wooden walkways set out over the lagoon’s glassy shallows.

“Wow,” George muttered as the three of us entered the plush, carpeted lobby of the spa. “This place is pretty fancy. A little
too
fancy, if you know what I mean.”

I knew what she meant. The place was superposh. It takes a lot to intimidate me, but I have to admit I felt kind of underdressed and grubby as I looked around.

Luckily Bess never feels that way, even when she’s just disembarked from an international flight. “Excuse me,” she said, striding right up to the reception desk. “We’re looking for Sydney Marvin—er, Marvin-Valdez. We heard she might be here.”

The impeccably dressed woman behind the desk nodded. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Ms. Marvin-Valdez is expecting you. Right this way, please.”

“You’re here!” Sydney sat up straight when we entered her treatment room, almost knocking over the petite young woman who’d been busily massaging
her face with some kind of green goo. “Oh, thank goodness! This is such a nightmare….”

“Um, could you excuse us for a second, please?” Bess shot an apologetic glance at the facialist. The young woman nodded and melted away, leaving us alone with Sydney.

There was a flurry of hugs, some of which involved the transfer of Sydney’s green facial goo to various bits of our clothing. But even Bess didn’t seem to mind that.

“So,” I said after a moment, settling back against the woven bamboo countertop beside the massage chair. “What’s going on, Syd?”

Sydney shot an anxious look toward the door. “Not here,” she whispered, reaching for a tissue and starting to wipe the goo off her face. “These walls are made of paper—pretty much literally. We should find someplace private to talk.”

She had a point. The interior walls of the spa appeared to consist mostly of bamboo and paper screens. “Okay,” I said. “Should we go to your bungalow?”

Sydney shook her head. “I have a better idea….”

Soon the four of us were drifting on the lagoon’s crystal-blue waters. The boat we were in was pretty cool—it was a four-person glass-bottomed paddleboat
with big, rubber inflatable pontoons. It made it easy to observe the busy and colorful underwater world of fish and coral.

But I was trying not to get distracted by any of that. We weren’t there for a vacation, and I wanted to hear what we were up against. The saboteur had already all but ruined Sydney’s bridal shower, bachelorette party, rehearsal dinner, and wedding day. I was going to do all I could to make sure he or she didn’t ruin her honeymoon, as well.

“Do you think we’re out far enough now?” George panted, allowing her legs to slow on the paddleboat’s pedals.

I shot a look back toward shore. Vic and his friends were romping around on the white-sand beach, lobbing coconuts at one another and laughing uproariously. It also appeared they’d set up a boom box to serve as a soundtrack to their game—driving hip-hop music was faintly audible drifting out over the water.

Sydney nodded, seeming satisfied that we wouldn’t be overheard. “This is horrible,” she blurted out, lifting her feet from the pedals and sort of flopping against the side of one of the pontoons. “I was so looking forward to this honeymoon, but it seems like everything just went wrong from the start!”

It was clear that she was on the verge of tears. Bess reached over and took Sydney’s hand in her own.
“Deep breaths,” she advised gently. “Just tell us.”

Sydney gulped in a lungful of air. “Well, to start with, there was the stuff about the TV crew coming along.” She glanced back toward the beach, where Butch and the other camera operator could be seen filming the guys’ antics.