Death in a Beach Chair

ONE "What is it about the Caribbean that makes everyone feel so sexy?" Jed Henshaw asked, moving a bit closer to his wife and slipping an arm around her shoulders. "The warm, soft air? The sound of the sea? The scent of exotic flowers? The sugary drinks full of rum? Susan? Honey? Susan, are you sleeping?" It had been a long day. Susan and Jed Henshaw had gotten up before five a.m. to catch their nine-thirty flight from Kennedy Airport to Orlando, Florida. They may as well have slept in. The flight had been delayed for three hours. Missing their original connection to a small island in the Bahamas, they had been lucky enough to find seats on the last island-hopper. It departed long after dinner. Their luggage had missed their flight, which Susan thought was lucky since the taxi that had picked them up at the airport had the distinctive smell of rotting fish emanating from its trunk. They had arrived at their resort, expecting to find Kathleen and Jerry Gordon, their best friends, checked in and ready to greet them. But what they found was a message left at the front desk: Kathleen and Jerry were having dinner in town. They'd be back late. They'd all meet for breakfast tomorrow morning at nine. Susan and Jed had gone to their little cottage on the beach, washed up, and headed straight back to the bar. They were now sitting there on brightly colored chairs, staring out at the inky Caribbean. "Susan?" "I'm not asleep. I was just lying here wondering. Jed, don't you think it's weird that Kathleen and Jerry aren't here?" "Not really. Remember, we should have arrived hours ago. They were probably assuming that we would go to town with them, and when we didn't show up on time, they just went ahead with their plans." "Yes, but Kathleen said one of the things that appealed to her the most about this resort was its restaurant; it's known all over the island for its food. Kathleen and I liked the fact that everything we wanted was here, that we wouldn't have to leave unless we wanted to. So why would they go off to town to eat their first day on the island?" "Perhaps they thought you and I would want to stay here all week and decided to take advantage of our absence to explore on their own." "Well, maybe, but . . ." Susan sat up and looked over at her husband. "Jed, has Jerry said anything to you?" "Jerry's said a lot to meat work, at the Field Club, at the boring dinner party the Goldsmiths threw last week. But I gather you're interested in something specific?" "I was wondering if he'd said anything about Kathleen . . . you know, about their marriage." "No. What do you know that I don't know?" "I don't think they're getting along," Susan answered quietly. Although she and Jed had been married for more than thirty years, her words shocked him more than anything else she had ever told him. "Not getting along? You're saying they have marriage problems? Kathleen and Jerry?" "I don't actually know anything. That is, Kathleen hasn't said anything specific, but recently I've been getting the impression that she's unhappy about something . . . something to do with Jerry." Now Jed sat up straighter and turned away from the view. "Hon, I thought this was going to be a romantic, relaxing vacation." "Oh, it is, Jed. It is. Don't you see? ThatRWolzien, Valerie is the author of 'Death in a Beach Chair' with ISBN 9780449007198 and ISBN 0449007197.