RESORT TO MURDER (3 page)

"Uh, no, I guess I never have," Maggie said,
pulling her eyes away from the hair to answer.

Dyna-with-a-Y talked on about the value and
methods of meditation, and leaned forward against the net post to
stretch her leg muscles. Maggie pulled her racquet out of its cover
and assumed an expression of polite attention, as she tried to
remember the correct grip for a backhand volley. After trying a
few, none of which felt particularly familiar, she decided she
would probably just stay back near the baseline most of the time -
forget the volleys. Dyna's dangling, crystal earrings flashed in
the sun.

"OK! Shall we start?” Dyna was spinning her
racquet, waiting for Maggie to call up or down. Maggie began to
worry that she might be overmatched. Most of the games she had
played up till then, the player with the most balls in her pockets
simply walked back and started serving.

"Up?" she said, tentatively.

Dyna looked at the end of her racquet handle.
"You got it."

Maggie soon found she needn't have worried.
Her first serve, which dropped softly into the service court, was
returned by Dyna into the net. The second was swung at and
missed.

"Ace!" Dyna called, and Maggie laughed.

The match continued in that vein, with Maggie
winning, mostly because she managed to keep from double faulting
and seemed to be the only one of the two who knew how to keep
score. At one point, however, Dyna returned the ball quite a
distance from Maggie, still keeping it inside the line. Maggie ran
for it and swung wildly. The ball sailed high and disappeared over
the fence and into the shrubbery.

"Out!" Dyna yelled, grinning. "Definitely
out.” She started to head for the gate.

"No, don't bother," Maggie called to her. "I
hit it. I'll get it later."

"OK," Dyna said, and they played out the
set, with Maggie winning it, six games to two. They walked to a
shady spot near the fence and sat down, fanning their faces.

"Ooof! I must be in rotten shape," Maggie
said, breathing hard.

"It's the heat. And the altitude too. Less
oxygen, you know."

"Are we that high up?"

"Doesn't take much.” Dyna reached back and
pulled her long hair off her neck with one hand, fanning it with
the other. "The human body has to get acclimated, you know. Have
you had your hemoglobin checked lately?"

"Uh, no."

Dyna launched on a rambling explanation of
blood tests, then moved on to other areas of medicine. But Maggie,
after recalling her companion's recent performance on the court,
was beginning to feel her air of expertise on the subject was just
that. Mere air. She listened politely anyway, enjoying the ease and
confidence with which Dyna tossed around medical terms.

After a while, when Dyna seemed to have run
down, Maggie changed the subject to Rob Clayton.

"Who? Dimples?" Dyna asked. Maggie laughed
and nodded. "He's a hunk, isn't he?" Dyna continued. "Pretty good
pro, too. I heard he actually played at Wimbledon."

"Really?” Maggie said, impressed.

"I don't know how he ended up here, but
they're lucky they've got him. I imagine he's quite a draw. In more
ways than one."

Dyna told Maggie about a new racquet Rob had
recommended that she was considering buying, but Maggie's attention
began to wander. She was tired. It had been a full day. They
probably should play one more set then she'd head back to her room.
Have a shower and relax before dinner.

A squirrel ran down a tree on the other side
of the fence, stopped to look at them, and ran on. Maggie stood up
and stretched.

"I'll go get that ball before I forget where
I lobbed it," she said.

"Oh, right. I think it went over there.”
Dyna pointed.

Maggie squeezed through the rusty-hinged gate
and walked along the fence, peering into the bushes. "How far back?
Do you remember?"

"Not too far. I think. It might have
rolled."

Maggie walked deeper into the wild
undergrowth behind their court, her eyes searching the ground. She
pulled branches aside and looked under them. What does poison ivy
look like? she wondered, as she picked up a long stick to poke
around with. Something white caught her eye. What's that? A shoe?
Why would someone leave a ....

"Dyna.” The name caught in her throat as she
struggled to shout it out. "Dyna!"

Maggie stood frozen, looking down at the
body of the young woman lying in a small clearing, hair matted with
dark, dried blood, her pale, lifeless skin mottled by shifting
shadows.

"What is it?" Dyna called back.

"I need ... help," Maggie cried. Her breath
was coming faster as disjointed thoughts of CPR raced through her
head, knowing at the same time that it would be useless. She looked
again at the chalky skin below and wondered giddily what the girl's
hemoglobin level could possibly be. She was almost on the point of
a horrified giggle when Dyna ran up to her.

"What's the matt.... Oh, my God."

***

CHAPTER 5

"Help! Help! We need some help here.” Dyna's
clear voice rang down the courts. Maggie turned to see players stop
in mid-play, stare, then drop their racquets and move to respond.
She turned back to look at the pitiful figure on the ground,
looking now beyond the blood, and a new horror suddenly overcame
her as she did. Her hand flew to her mouth and she stepped back,
knocking into Dyna.

Dyna turned back, startled. “Are you all
right?"

Maggie looked at Dyna, barely seeing her,
then with an effort pulled herself together.

"I know her. Dyna,
I
know
her!"

One of the middle-aged men from court three
arrived first, puffing and scrambling for the gate latch. The lone
woman on court four hung back, and when she heard the man call back
to his partner that there was a dead body here, let out a screech.
Others rushed over, and the area rapidly grew cluttered with noise
and confusion as people alternately held back, horrified, then
pushed closer for a better look.

"Everybody please move back," Maggie
insisted, shaking herself now to take charge, her teacher's tone of
authority coming to her automatically. Her head swirled with
conflicting thoughts and feelings. but as she had often found in
the classroom she could rise above that when necessary to keep a
situation under control.

"This girl is dead. We have to call the
police. You," she pointed to a woman from the mixed doubles
foursome, a woman who looked fairly calm and competent, "go to the
sports shop and call them.” The woman nodded, grim faced, and took
off, and Maggie edged everyone back on the court and away from the
dead girl.

The dead girl. Maggie looked back at her.
Lori. It was Lori Basker. First row, third desk, second period
geometry. Lori, whose eyes had squinted with the effort of
concentration, whose soft brown hair had fallen over her face as
she bent over a test paper. That hair was now plastered with blood
over a crushed skull. Those eyes were glazed and unseeing. Maggie
turned away. Lori had been murdered. The thought was almost
incomprehensible.

"You OK?” Dyna looked at her with
concern.

"I guess so."

Maggie heard a siren, far away. Before long
the place would be filled with police, asking questions. What would
she say? More people came. Maggie saw Rob Clayton running from the
sports shop. She closed her eyes and hugged herself.

"C'mon. Let's go sit down over there, out of
the way. Rob's here. He can take over now.” Dyna tugged at her, and
Maggie let herself be led to a quieter corner of the court. She had
to think.

With the arrival of the police the tension
for Maggie only increased as they bustled about, shouting orders,
pushing people back and cordoning off the area. Maggie was pointed
out, and a young deputy took her aside and asked questions over the
pandemonium, taking notes on when and how she had found the body.
The young woman had been identified, and had been a waitress at the
Highview.

Maggie told him how she knew Lori. He nodded
and wrote it down. He asked about a book that had been found next
to the body. Maggie hadn't noticed it and could only say it wasn't
hers, it must have been Lori's. Technicians took pictures of the
crime scene, and measurements, and searched meticulously through
the brush, apparently looking for evidence.

A second official came over to Maggie. He
introduced himself as Sheriff Burger, a tall, heavy-set man with
thinning hair. He asked the same questions the first one had. She
answered as clearly as she could, trying hard to control a tremor
which had begun deep in her stomach. She knew it wasn't the sheriff
giving her the shakes. It was the whole unbelievable scene that
unnerved her.

After what seemed like hours they told
Maggie she could go. What was wrong? Why didn't she want to go, to
leave this terrible scene? Bits and pieces of the things some of
the deputies had said, talking to each other within her hearing,
ran through her head: "blunt force, four or five hours ago, not
much to go on, no weapon, sheriff's pretty busy, the suspect's
probably in Florida by now.” The expressions on their faces were
disinterested, sometimes actually laughing over comments to each
other. It was their job, she knew that. They needed to be detached.
But it bothered her.

She saw Rob Clayton moving about. There was
nothing for him to do either, but he still hovered. She wondered
why. Was he simply looking out for the hotel property which he
managed, which was his responsibility? But his focus was constantly
on the murder scene. Occasionally someone in a hotel uniform would
come up to him, questioning. He answered brusquely, seeming
impatient at the interruption, his eyes always on the police
activity, and the questioner would move on.

Rob's intensity seemed curious. Maggie
didn't see sadness or distress at the murder of a fellow employee,
though, but a more detached, intellectual determination simply to
see everything, to know everything the police did.

Her gaze turned away from Rob when she heard
a voice call the sheriff. "Mayor wants to talk to you," the deputy
said. The sheriff flipped open a small phone and spoke into it. He
smiled and nodded, apparently agreeable to everything being said to
him, obviously nothing that had to do with Lori.

He closed the phone and looked around. "Jim,
take over here, finish things up. I gotta go back to town, see
hizzoner.” He straightened his hat and tramped out of the cordoned
area, passing near Maggie but barely glancing at her. He had
questioned her already. She held no interest to him anymore.

Maggie looked back at the area where Lori
still lay. She knew now why she didn't want to leave. Someone had
to be here for Lori. Someone who cared. Maggie wasn't family, but
at least she thought of Lori as a person, not an inanimate victim
of a crime whose sole remaining purpose was to provide clues
leading to the perpetrator.

She shoved her hands in her pockets and
looked around at the ever-changing, milling crowd of people. It was
a mixed group of hotel guests mingled with employees, some talking
in low voices, some silent, all with expressions of awed curiosity.
Then she saw a young girl standing alone, wearing a hotel waitress
uniform. She was staring in the same direction Maggie had just
been, and her eyes were wet, the tip of her nose red. Maggie almost
smiled. Lori wasn't so alone after all.

Someone touched her arm and she turned. It
was Dyna.

"How're you doing?"

"OK."

Looking over at the crime scene area Maggie
saw that they seemed to be finished and were preparing to take Lori
away. She glanced up at Dyna's face and realized she was fairly
shaken up, maybe more so than Maggie.

"What do you think about going back to the
hotel?” Maggie asked.

A faint look of tired relief passed over
Dyna's face, and Maggie knew she must have been staying around for
her sake. Maggie was surprised. And grateful. She suggested getting
some dinner.

"Great!" Dyna said, some of the liveliness
returning to her eyes. "But I'd say not in the dining room here. We
don't need more crowds. How about room service?"

"Sounds good to me,” Maggie said.

They quietly pushed through the crowd of
onlookers and officials. As they walked back down the path to the
hotel, Maggie became aware of an almost overwhelming fatigue.
Relaxing in her quiet room with dinner was just what she needed.
And she was glad she wouldn't be alone. She glanced over at Dyna's
healthy-looking face and at the crystal earrings bouncing at each
side of it and felt better, at least a little.

"How about some wine with the soup and
sandwiches?" Dyna asked, holding the phone. They were in Maggie's
room, and Dyna thumbed through the menu as she waited to be put
through to room service.

"Sounds good to me," Maggie said. She pulled
off her shoes and stretched out on the dark blue bedspread, feeling
an exhaustion she had never known before. She knew it was more
mental than physical. She propped up the pillows against the
headboard and leaned her head against them, closing her eyes.

Dyna put the order through and hung up the
phone. She sat on one of the two chairs at the round table near the
window, dragging the other chair with her foot to use as a
hassock.

"So, I heard you telling the sheriff you're
a school teacher.” She stretched out her tanned legs comfortably.
"What do you teach."

"High school math. Geometry, algebra, and
trig."

"Yuk!” Dyna made a face.

"No, not yuk. I enjoy it.” Maggie looked at
Dyna, aware from the expression on it that her statement might just
as well have been, "Root canals? I love them."