Page 14 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

Jason had irritated me, true, but I hadn’t wanted to insult him. That wasn’t me. Why had I even come? To the Sky Bar or St. Claire? Maybe I should have put my foot down with Mr. Cohn. He couldn’t have forced me to go. I could have forfeited the

trip, not boarded the plane, stayed home for a weeklong staycation.

Now, that sounded depressing.

I took my sangria glass and walked down a well-lit path to a bench that had an amazing view. The bench was framed by trees

covered with the same white lights as along the path. The sunset was even better than I could have imagined. As the sun disappeared,

I thought about what Jason had said.

Don’t you have a dream?

I didn’t dare give voice to my dream. It was foolish and fiscally irresponsible. Small businesses started and shut down every

day, and the business I wanted? I wouldn’t get three years before losing my life savings. Success would be out of my control.

The thought gave me heart palpitations.

I refused to risk everything—my financial security, my future—on a whimsical dream.

The music played and laughter filtered through the warm air, but I felt alone. Maybe I should have asked Adam to come with

me this week.

Adam, my most recent ex-boyfriend, wanted to get back together. Amanda and Jane liked him, but... well, I don’t feel much

of anything when I think of him. He was fine . Had a good job, was responsible, practically perfect on paper... except there was no chemistry. No romance. My heart

didn’t beat for Adam.

He was comfortable, and I didn’t want comfortable. I had that in my work life already. I wanted passion and fun. To look forward to dates, not find excuses to avoid them.

Maybe my expectations were too high. Impossible dreams, just like my dream of owning my own business.

Enough woe is me . I faced the most gorgeous view I’d seen, and I would enjoy myself, dammit.

I rolled my shoulders, stretched my jaw, and practiced smiling. Then I took out my phone to film my book review. I would edit

in the book cover before I posted it online.

“Hi, it’s Mia. I’m on vacation—my first real vacation in years—on a beautiful Caribbean island! Isn’t it gorgeous?” I panned

the camera around, then turned it back to me. “I’m here to rave about the book I read on the plane...”

I gave a two-minute review, which was the sweet spot—neither too long nor too short. I saved the video to my phone because

the resort Wi-Fi didn’t reach the top of the mountain. I’d edit and post it when I got back to my cottage.

Done with that happy chore, I pulled out Diana’s book. I reread the previous chapter because I’d been distracted by the notes.

Then I started chapter four, really got into the story because Gabrielle, the heroine, was smart and sassy and everything

I wished I could be.

Five pages into the chapter, Diana’s script practically screamed at me.

The old man should mind his own business. Someone needs to shut him up.

A chill ran down my spine. Was she talking about the mentor character in the book who was trying to get Gabrielle back together

with her ex? Or someone here, on the island? Was it a threat?

I flipped through a couple pages to see if there was any more about the old man. At the end of the chapter were several cryptic

notes.

A little heart with My #1 won’t be here until Tuesday! followed by a sad face.

Totally broke, he’ll help. Followed by the number 77.

Then: 1419 is worth at least $100K. Maybe more.

Under that: Finally! Scored with the big cheese. Hahahaha. 2012, future deal.

2012? That was more than a decade ago. How could it be a future big deal? I was getting a headache trying to figure out Diana’s

shorthand.

The last point on the list was interesting. There was no doodle, no numbers, no dollar amount. Only the comment meet two-face @ 8 Sun.

Who was two-face? Diana left early Sunday on the ferry—was she meeting someone on St. John at eight in the morning? Or was

she supposed to be back for a meeting on St. Claire at eight that night?

Before I could think more about this information, the DJ announced that the last shuttle back to the resort was leaving in

ten minutes. The sun was gone; only a thin dark red line now edged the ocean. I wanted to get back and find the lagoon since,

surprisingly, I wasn’t tired. As I started up the path, I heard three female voices gossiping in hushed tones. The scent of

marijuana drifted down.

I stopped, not wanting to interrupt. Eavesdropping had become a really bad habit today.

A server I’d spoken to earlier—a young woman named Leesa—said, “Did you see what Mrs. Craig was wearing? No one over fifty

should even attempt such a thing.”

“Shows off her new boobs,” another woman said.

“Sometimes less is more.”

Giggles, then a shh .

“Did you hear that Kalise was in Tristan’s room all night?”

“He’s gay,” Leesa said.

“No, she was definitely in there all night, and they weren’t watching movies.”

“She’s entitled to some fun,” Leesa said. “The St. John police are still asking about Ms. Harden. Tristan is very concerned. So is Kalise. Liability issues.”

“Good riddance,” a third voice, much deeper, said, then coughed. “She was a bitch.”

“Stop—if anyone hears you talking about guests like that—”

“They would agree with me. Entitled and rude. She made Ginger cry after her spa treatment. Ginger!”

The others murmured something, their tone implying that this was particularly egregious.

“And it’s not like she’s a regular,” the gruff woman said. “Never been here before, and it wasn’t planned.”

“How do you know?” Leesa asked.

“I read the guest profiles. She registered literally two days before she showed up Friday. That’s unheard-of.”

“Surprised we had room,” another said.

“She’s not the only one,” the gruff woman said. “The actress? Who brags about being in a Tom Cruise movie where she had one line and was on screen for a nanosecond? She also registered last minute. And she’s been asking questions about the Harden woman. Wanted to know what room she’d stayed in,

can you believe that?”

I bit my lip. Why was Amber asking questions about Diana? I would need to be very careful how I approached the subject of

the missing woman with staff.

“She left all her stuff behind,” Leesa said. “We had to pack everything up and—”

“Enough gossiping!” a new voice, a brusque female, snapped. “I was wondering where everyone had gone off to. Do I smell weed?

While on duty?”

“No, ma’am,” the sweet girl said. “Must be a guest.”

“Must be,” the woman said in a disbelieving tone. “Come on, Jason’s already shut down the bar, and we’re just waiting for

the last guests to board the shuttle. We’ll be out of here in five minutes if you double-time it.”

The women walked back into the main building, and I breathed easier.

Last shuttle leaving!

I didn’t want to walk back in the dark, so I ran up the trail and burst onto the dance floor. The empty room was disorienting

as I looked around for the exit to the shuttle.

“Now, that’s an entrance,” Jason said from the bar as he locked the cabinets.

“I didn’t realize how late it was. Has the shuttle left?”

“You have a few minutes.”

“Water?”

He smiled, as charming as ever, and put a water bottle down on the bar. I felt doubly bad for being rude earlier. I was about

to apologize, but he walked away.

I couldn’t blame him. I had been rude. It was for the best. We were totally incompatible.

I pushed Jason to the back of my mind and thought about what the staff had been talking about.

Diana Harden had left without packing her belongings. That suggested that she didn’t plan to leave, to run away with a sexy

chef or even have a family emergency—she would have called the resort, let them know. She left the island for St. John—perhaps

to meet Mr.—or Ms.—Two-Face, and she never came back. There were now two things I wanted to do: go through her belongings

and talk to the ferry captain who took her to St. John. Maybe she met someone on the dock. Maybe she said something to staff.

I just had to figure out how to do both without arousing suspicion.