Roses Are Red; He's Dead (A Mellow Summers Paranormal Mystery Book 9) (3 page)

“Is this your first time here?” asked Aimie.

“Yes,” I said. “Greg planned the trip for us as a getaway vacation. We had both been working hard lately and needed a break.”

“This is the place to do it,” said Patrick.

“This is our second stay,” added Aimie.

“Really?” I asked.

“Our first visit here was great,” said Aimie, “but we felt like we didn’t get as much out of it as we could. So we came back.”

“Best decision we ever made,” said Patrick. “There is so much to do here.”

“Tell me about.” I leaned closer. “I am trying to come up with some activities for Greg and I.”

“Well, for starters,” said Aimie, “there is the ‘Lover’s Hiking Trail’.”

“More of a nickname,” chuckled Patrick, “but it does seem to live up to it. There are a lot of out of the way places it takes you to.”

“Places where you and your boyfriend can be totally alone,” Aimie said with a hint of scandal in her voice. “There is also the sauna. They have individual stalls for couples, and don’t worry, they’re soundproof.” She winked at me.

“And,” said Patrick, “there is a town only a quarter of a mile from here. They have a wonderful restaurant there that serves real Indian food; I mean, from India. The owner is a marvelous gentleman who loves entertaining couples.”

“Tomorrow there’s a couple’s yoga,” said Aimie. “You should come!”

“Couple’s yoga?” I said.

“Uh-huh. They do all sorts of couple’s things around here. In the morning, they have yoga, in the evenings, they have karaoke—oh, you gotta come to that. They also have live band concerts sometimes, star gazing, and they always have places you can go to be alone.”

“I just might take you up on that yoga,” I said. Movement in the corner of my eye made me glance to my right. Standing in a doorway, was the same man I had seen in the spa, except he looked a bit transparent.

“Something wrong?” asked Aimie.

I jerked out of my internal musing and realized that I had been staring at the same doorway for over a minute. “Fine. Everything’s fine. I just thought I saw something, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

“Well, I better finish my walk and get back to Greg,” I said. I fiddled with my empty glass, unsure of where to put it.

“Here,” Patrick took it from me and held it in the air. Within seconds, a man in a white outfit took it. “See? They don’t want anyone to have to do too much work around here.”

I smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

“Looking forward to it,” said Aimie.

I left the two of them and hurried over to the doorway, but the man had gone. I almost stopped when I stepped through it and into a room the size of a dining hall with a humongous fireplace in the center—complete with the dancing flames—and plush sofas and chairs surrounding it. High, vaulted ceilings stretched above me with triangular windows that let in the sunlight. A chandelier of antlers hung from the rafters, releasing a soft glow.

A lump on one of the couches caught my attention. I moseyed over to it, thinking that maybe someone had left a blanket behind, or had fallen asleep; it was warm and cozy. As I neared the lump, something didn’t feel right. Once again, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and the sensation that I was not going to like what I found struck. The lump came into view and I realized that it wasn’t a lump at all, but the same man whom I had found in the spa. I looked around. I was the only one in the room.

“Sir?” I said. “I think you need to wake up.”

Nothing. No snoring even; another telltale sign that something was amiss. “Uh, sir, this isn’t funny.”

Still no answer. I reached out to shake him away, but jerked my hand back as I remembered the incident in the spa. With great hesitation, I summoned the courage to shake him. As though determined to repeat what had happened earlier that day, the man fell over, his arms flopping out to the side as his head rolled to an unnatural position. I jumped back. It was the same man, and he was not breathing.

Turning in circles, I searched for anyone who might be able to help me, but found no one. I stood in the room, staring at the dead man before me. I knew I should go get someone, but it didn’t work out so well the first time. Just to make certain that he was really dead, and not sleeping, I nudged him with my foot. Still no response.

I ran outside. The moment I opened the door, I flagged down the first person I saw. “Hey, there’s…” I stopped. I had glanced back at the sofa and the body had gone with no trace of having ever been there.

“May I help you, ma’am?” asked the waiter I had flagged down.

“No,” I said, puzzled as to what had just happened. “No, I forgot what I wanted, but perhaps you could tell me where the sauna is.”

“Yes, it’s down that way and to your left. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

I looked back at the couch where I had seen the man, but it was empty. Confused, and a bit unnerved, I headed back to the cabin. The sun had sunk low in the sky and it would get dark at any minute. I still needed to shower and did not wish to be late for Greg’s dinner plans. Maybe they would help me forget about this latest incident.

Chapter 3

The restaurant Greg had made reservations at was near the main part of the resort. I had to give him props for this. Not only was it an extremely nice place to eat an extravagant meal, with all of the fancy dishes one could imagine, but the calm atmosphere made me forget all about the spa and Mr. Not-So-Alive. A small lamp rested in the center of each covered table with an embroidered table cloth; the embroidery consisted of leaves and flowers woven together in small spirals along the hemline. Soft music played throughout the dining area.

The hostess seated us at a center table. I couldn’t stop looking around at the décor. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” said the hostess.

“Thank you,” said Greg.

I looked at the menu and almost gawked at the prices. “Greg, how can we afford this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I have spent the last several weeks saving up for this. Trust me. It’s all taken care of.”

I gave him a doubtful look. “You know you don’t have to impress me.”

“Of course I do,” said Greg. “You’re the super sleuth that solves mysteries ghosts can’t solve on their own.”

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Is it working?”

“I’d say so.”

“Good evening. My name is Matherson and I will be your server this evening. May I start you off with some wine?”

“Yes,” said Greg, “we’ll have your house wine.”

“An excellent choice. Are you two ready to order, or do you need another moment?”

“I’d like your roast duck,” I said. My stomach growled right then and I was certain that everyone heard it. “With the mashed potatoes and broccoli.”

“And you, sir?” said the waiter to Greg.

“I’ll have your prime rib.”

“Excellent choice.”

“With the baked potato and creamed corn,” said Greg.

“I will put this in and your wine will be out shortly.”

“So, Mr. Romantic, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” I asked.

“They are having a couples hike tomorrow. Thought maybe we’d go there and figure out the rest later.”

“Good thinking.”

The waiter arrived with our wine. He poured two glasses and stuck the bottle in an ice bath on our table. I had to admit that the wine tasted good—I mean really good. It had a fruity flavor, but not overpowering, which I liked.

I reached over to grab a breadstick when my glass of wine fell over, spilling red liquid all over the table and the floor. A damp, red splotch coated a portion of my dress, which irritated me. Greg and I scrambled with our napkins to wipe up the mess, but we ended up making it worse. Our waiter rushed over with towels to sop up the spilt wine.

“Let me get that for you,” he said as he tried to clean up the mess.

I couldn’t believe that the wine had spilled. It seemed a bit strange that it had as I hadn’t even touched the glass.

“Is there a place where I can clean up?” I asked.

“Yes, the restrooms are right over there.”

I excused myself and went to the ladies’ room. It had a sitting area that you had to pass through in order to get to the bathroom part. Using a bunch of paper towels and water, I tried, though with little success, to clean the wine out of my dress. Every effort I made just seemed to make the stain worse. Realizing that nothing I did would help the situation, I decided to just tough it out and spend the evening in a wine-stained dress. No point in running back to the cabin to change.

A scuffling noise sounded outside the bathroom door. I opened it and peeked out into the sitting area. A man sat on the couch, and he looked familiar.

“Excuse me,” I said, “I think you’re in the wrong room.”

No response. Déjà vu hit me.

“Uh,” I tried again, “this is the ladies’ room. The men’s is down the hall.”

Still no response. An eerie feeling that I had been in this situation before filled me. Not again. I really didn’t need this again.

“Hey,” my tone grew more forceful as I approached him, “you need to leave.”

Oh, yeah, he was unresponsive. Knowing I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself, I reached out and poked him. He fell over, his face turning towards me and I recognized him as the man I had found in the spa and the lounge. I ran out of the bathroom.

“I need help!” I said to the first person I saw.

“What?”

“There is a man in there and he’s not breathing,” I said.

The man stared at me as though I was playing a prank on him.

“It’s not a joke! There really is a dead guy in there.”

The man followed me into the women’s room, but wouldn’t you know it, the body was gone. Gone! Again!

“So where is he?” asked the man.

“He was here,” I stamped my foot. This was ridiculous! Why was I the only one finding a body—the same body—and then it disappears when I get help?

The man searched the sitting area of the restroom. Soon the door opened and a group of women walked in. Just what I needed: an audience. “Miss, there is no dead body here. Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?’

“I know he was here!”

“Body?” One of the women ran out of the door screaming bloody murder. Great. Now I’d have an even bigger audience. Oh, sure, let’s just bring the whole restaurant in.

The man looked at the wine stain on my dress and I knew he thought I had drunk a little too much.

“I’m not intoxicated,” I said.

The look on his face indicated his disbelief. “Ma’am, there is no one here.”

“But I know what I saw!”

“I need you to go back to your table.”

“But…”

The manager walked in. “Is there a problem here?”

The woman who screamed bloody murder answered that question “She said there was a dead body in here!”

“She was mistaken,” said the man who had investigated my claims.

“No, I wasn’t!” The frustration in my voice intensified.

“Perhaps it was a man who mistakenly walked in,” said the manager.

I looked around at everyone in the room. None of them believed me. “I know he was here!”

“Ma’am, I need you to return to your table.”

“I won’t…”

“Mel?” Greg had walked in, wondering why I hadn’t come back yet. “What’s going on?”

“Do you know her?” asked the manager.

“Yes, we came here together. She went to the bathroom and never came back.”

“She insists that she saw a dead body.”

“I did!” I reiterated.

“But there is no one here,” said the manager.

“But…”

“Mel,” Greg’s voice silenced me; his eyes pleaded for me to remain quiet. He didn’t believe me either.

I had lost this battle and I knew it. Once again, the body got up and left of its own accord and everyone thought I was crazy. I couldn’t explain it and probably would never be able to.

“I must ask you two to leave,” said the manager. “She’s causing a scene and…”

“I understand,” said Greg.

I read the disappointment in his voice. This was supposed to be a romantic getaway gift for me and I ruined it. Greg held his arm out to me and I took it, knowing that no matter what I did, no one would believe me.

“May we have our food packed in a to go box?” asked Greg.

“Certainly,” said the manager, glad to be rid of us.

“Greg, I…”

He turned away. I had disappointed him.

“I’ll meet you back at the cabin,” I said and left the restaurant.

Fuming over the ruined dinner—and my part in it—I stormed out the door into the chilly, night air. The temperature controlled deck made it where I didn’t feel the change, even though an icy breeze tickled my cheeks. Relishing the breeze, I stalked down the wooden steps to the walking trail below that wormed its way around the compound. Why was this dead body showing up only where I was, and then disappearing?