The Last Resort (A Kate Jasper Mystery) (22 page)

“Oh-oh,” I said, nudging Wayne.

Wayne turned my way, and I nodded at Felix.

I peeked under Wayne’s eyebrows and saw a flicker of annoyance as he gazed at Craig. Guilt pressed on my chest. I took another bite of bread. How did Wayne feel about protecting Craig? Helping my ex-husband? I had seen genuine sympathy on Wayne’s face when Craig found Jack’s body, but the sympathy of the moment had probably worn off. Maybe I was asking too much of Wayne.

Whatever he felt, Wayne finished filling his plate quickly and led the way over to the communal table, where he took a seat next to Felix. I pulled out a chair next to Ruth, across from Craig.

“She did not bear easily her mother’s death or forget her father’s abandonment,” Eli was saying. I slurped vegetable soup and listened. “I tried to make it up to her but she was…she was difficult.” Eli smiled wanly. Ruth reached across the table and patted his hand.

“Such a waste,” said Eli, shaking his head sadly, “her short life spent mostly in anger.” Ruth shook her head with him, her eyes knowing.

Eli rested his eyes on Ruth’s face, drinking in her understanding.

“Suzanne was an excellent attorney. Her work reflected well upon our law firm,” he continued. “I only wish she had been a happier person.”

Next to Eli, Craig hung his head. Ruth gave a quick nod in Craig’s direction. Eli caught the signal and turned to him.

“Craig, do not blame yourself,” Eli said gently. “It was not your fault. You were a good influence on my Suzanne. She was happy with you, happier than she had been before you.”

Craig’s head popped up. “Really?” he asked, his voice full of the need to believe Eli’s words.

“Really,” Eli confirmed. His eyes were moist beneath his Coke-bottle glasses. He laid a gnarled hand on Craig’s shoulder. “You gave her great joy.”

Craig straightened his shoulders under Eli’s hand.

“This is too much sadness for someone of your age,” Eli said to him.

Ruth nodded. “Too much sadness for anyone of any age,” she said. She focused her intense eyes on Craig’s. “But death is a fact of life. You’ll always remember. But, in your own way, in your own time, you
will
feel better.”

Craig regarded her hopefully, cocking his head to better absorb her words. “When my son died,” Ruth continued, “and when my husband died, I thought I would never heal, but I did. The trick is not to get stuck. To move through the pain, the sorrow, the rage.” Now she turned her eyes back to Eli. “To move on with life.”

“To move on with life,” Uncle Eli repeated thoughtfully. “You are a very wise woman, Ruth.”

The table was silent as Eli and Ruth stared into each other’s eyes, as if each was seeing the life they wished to move toward in the other. We all basked in the warmth of their mutual enchantment. All except Felix.

Felix took the silence as an opportunity to speak to Craig. In a low, sympathetic voice he said, “It must have been really terrible for you to find those bodies.”

Craig slumped back in his chair. His face lost the little color it had gained. “You don’t know how terrible—” he began.

“I think now is not the time to speak, my young friend,” Eli interrupted. He put his hand on Craig’s shoulder once more, this time in warning.

Craig turned to Eli, startled by the interruption.

“This man is a reporter,” Eli explained.

“Oh, I know that,” said Craig. “I know Felix. He wouldn’t use anything I say….” Craig’s sentence petered out. He turned back to look at Felix.

Felix blushed. I wondered how he could do a good job as an investigative reporter when he blushed all the time. Maybe he only blushed when he felt guilty. And maybe he only felt guilty when he pumped his own friends.

“Never mind,” said Felix. He turned his face away from Craig. “I was just curious.”

“Why
are
you down here?” asked Craig, sudden apprehension tightening his face and his voice.

“For the story,” Felix admitted shrilly. “I’m a reporter, for God’s sake.” He paused to glare past Craig at Uncle Eli. “A better question might be why Suzanne’s uncle and only heir is here.”

Everyone’s eyes moved to Eli’s face. Why was he here? I hadn’t thought to wonder.

Uncle Eli bowed his head to Felix, then replied. “I must discover what happened to my niece,” he said, his voice deep and grave. “I accepted the responsibility for her care. That responsibility did not end with her death.”

It was a hell of a good answer. I felt like applauding, but took another bite of corn instead. Ruth’s eyes shone with admiration as she watched Eli.

I heard footsteps and looked up from my corn to see Terry McPhail approaching with his own plate heaped high. He scrutinized Ruth’s face as he stepped up to the table, then sat down next to her and examined the object of her admiration with a critical air.

“Who are you?” he asked Eli finally. His tone was not polite.

“This is Eli Rosen, Terry McPhail,” Ruth said, introducing them. The tone of her voice told Terry he should be honored to meet Eli. “Eli is Suzanne’s uncle,” she added.

“Oh,” Terry said, still eyeing him suspiciously. “What do you do?”

“I am an attorney,” Eli answered, unperturbed by this second cross-examination.

Terry’s face wrinkled in disgust, but before he had a chance to verbalize his disgust, Ruth spoke.

“Be nice,” she said, shaking an admonitory finger at him.

Terry deflated visibly as the breath he had stored up for a good tirade left his body harmlessly. He even managed a small smile.

“Nice,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m being nice. Have to be, seeing as I’m surrounded by cops and attorneys and reporters.” He shot a nasty look in Felix’s direction.

Felix looked away. His eyes traveled around the hall, looking for someone new to alienate. They lighted on Don Logan but moved away, probably remembering the last encounter. Then he saw Avery Haskell inspecting the buffet.

Felix would have jabbed me in the ribs again, but I was across the table from him. Instead he nudged Wayne.

“Avery Haskell,” I heard Wayne whisper. I was surprised that Wayne knew Haskell’s name. I shouldn’t have been. Wayne was quiet, but he didn’t miss much.

Felix turned to look at Haskell again. Haskell looked back, treating Felix to his zombie stare. Felix averted his own eyes quickly. He surveyed the room once more, then whispered to Wayne, loud enough for my ears, probably loud enough for the whole table.

“Are you sure this place isn’t a lunatic asylum?”

That was enough for me. I had finished the food on my plate. Even Wayne had done justice to his vegetarian plateful. It was time to go.

“Wayne, ready for that walk I promised you?” I asked pointedly.

Wayne rose from his seat on cue. Felix rose too, but Wayne pushed him gently back into his seat with one large hand.

The two of us left quickly, passing Fran and Bradley at the counter.

“Please, honey—” I heard her say.

Bradley let out a piercing laugh.

I pushed the glass doors open frantically. What if Felix was right? What if Spa Santé was a lunatic asylum? And the staff were the lunatics? What if the Beaumonts and Avery Haskell belonged to some kind of cult that lured visitors down and then—

Wayne’s gentle voice interrupted my what-ifs as we walked out onto the porch. “It’s okay,” he said.

He put his hands on my shoulders and bent down to look into my eyes. “Kate?” he asked softly.

“I’m all right,” I answered. And suddenly I was. The idea of a lunatic cult seemed absurd in the sunlight. I kissed Wayne lightly; then we walked down the stairs into the bright afternoon.

We wandered without a destination, following the dirt paths as they led through and around the spa. We stopped occasionally to admire Fran’s landscaping and restoration efforts, or sometimes to squint at dilapidated buildings in the sunlight. The contrast of the beauty and the deterioration was disturbing. The more we walked, the more I began to wonder if my what-ifs had been so farfetched. Two people had been brutally murdered. That was real. I stopped walking and turned to Wayne.

“I’m scared,” I admitted softly. “It’s too damn spooky here. If it weren’t for Craig, I’d be out of here in a shot,” I reached for Wayne’s hand. “Do you think I’m crazy to stay?”

He stood and considered before answering. “I’m afraid of this place too,” he said slowly. “Don’t know if I can protect you from whoever’s doing these things.”

I flinched. I didn’t like to think I was using Wayne for protection. What if he was hurt protecting me?

He saw my reaction and put up his hand.

“I know, I know. You haven’t asked for my protection. But I wouldn’t feel right, leaving you here alone.” He paused. “And you don’t feel right leaving your husband to face this alone—”

“Ex-husband,” I corrected automatically.

“Ex-husband?” he asked.

“I got the final divorce papers Wednesday,” I replied absently.

I felt, rather than saw, the sudden hurt on Wayne’s face. Then I looked up into his eyes.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry. With the murders and all, I never thought to,” I said. My voice had gone high with guilt. I squeezed his hand and asked, “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” he said, scooping me up into his arms. “Don’t you see? We can get married now!”

Married? I held my arms tight around Wayne’s neck in a panic. I loved Wayne dearly. But I didn’t want to get married. Wayne sensed my panic and set me back on the ground. I peered into his troubled eyes. How could I make him understand?

“Kate?” I heard my name called.

I turned and saw my ex-husband, Craig, jogging up the path. The man I had also once loved, then married, then hated. The man I had only learned to like again once we were separated. Marriage. Damn.

Craig landed in front of me, his face sweating.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“THE COUNTY SHERIFFS are here,” Craig said. “They want to interview everyone again.” A muscle twitched under the tight skin covering his jaw. “In the dining hall. Now,” he finished glumly.

I turned to Wayne. His face was closed to me. Marriage? I never would have imagined I would welcome another interrogation but I did. I needed time to think, or not think, about Wayne’s proposal. Assuming that was what his words had been.

“I said I’d find you and bring you back,” Craig said anxiously. Was he afraid he’d lose his brownie points if he didn’t? Afraid they’d arrest him if he failed to find us? Suddenly, I had no sympathy left for Craig’s fears.

“Fine,” I said curtly. “You found us.”

“You are coming back with me?” he prodded. His voice rose to a whine. “Aren’t you?”

I turned on him. “Give me a break!” I shouted.

Craig flinched from the sound. Then he hung his head. “I’m sorry Kate,” he mumbled. “I just thought—”

“It’s all right,” I sighed. It wasn’t his fault he was a bad advertisement for marriage. “We’ll come with you. Won’t we, Wayne?”

I swiveled my head back to Wayne, catching the look in his eyes unexpectedly. It was a look of pure hatred and it was directed at Craig! I wouldn’t have believed Wayne possible of such enmity if I hadn’t seen it myself. Wayne would apologize if he tripped a mugger. (Not only would, but did, one memorable day in San Francisco.) His compassion knew no bounds. I corrected myself. There was a boundary. And Craig was now beyond it. Damn.

Wayne lowered his eyes. “Let’s go,” he growled.

We walked along the dirt path in silence for a few steps. Wayne’s face was closed again, his footstep hard as it hit the dirt. Craig’s shoulders were slumped as he shuffled along in front of us. Had he seen Wayne’s look of hatred? I reminded myself that Craig’s shoulders hadn’t been straight for most of his stay here at Spa Santé. No wonder, with his girlfriend murdered. A spark of sympathy warmed my vocal cords.

“So, who’s there for the grilling?” I asked in the friendliest tone I could muster.

Craig’s head came up. “Everyone,” he answered over his shoulder. “Ruth and Terry. Fran and Bradley. Avery Haskell. Don Logan.” He paused in his stride so that Wayne and I could catch up with him. “They sent two officers for Nikki.”

My chest contracted with pity when I thought of Nikki. But what could I do for her? Nothing, I reminded myself. So I kept on talking. “How about Felix?” I asked.

“Felix was already gone. He zipped out of there after you left. Said something about calling in his story before the deadline.” Craig flashed a nervous glance at Wayne as he spoke. Damn. He
had
seen Wayne’s look. “And they asked Eli to leave. His name wasn’t on their list.”

“Was Wayne’s?” I asked.

“I think so,” answered Craig, with another glance at Wayne.

Wayne grunted.

“Listen,” Craig burst out shrilly, suddenly stopping in his tracks. “I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble. If you guys want to leave, leave!”

Wayne and I came to a halt, too. I looked from Wayne’s sullen face to Craig’s agitated one and back again.