Death at the Voyager Hotel Read Online Free PDF

the
implications began to dawn. “Especially Ajua. How will she respond when she
hears these terrible stories about her teacher?”
    “And we’re
struggling to keep this Danish grant going, too,” Gale added. “Bad publicity is
what we don’t need.”
    “We have to do
something,” Paula said.
    “What?”
    “I don’t know
yet.” Paula got up and paced the distance the small room would allow. “But we will do something.”

    Mid-morning, John Prempeh called Paula to ask her if she had
a statement to make on the death of Heather Peterson. Paula had prepared
herself for media inquiries, but Prempeh was the last person she wanted to talk
to.
    “We’re devastated
and saddened by her death,” she said. “She was a valued asset to the Street
Academy. Because it’s an ongoing investigation, I can’t comment any further
than that.”
    “Had she been
drinking heavily?”
    “Mr. Prempeh,”
she said sharply, “as I just said, I can’t comment any further.”
    “What about the
possibility that she committed suicide?”
    “Nothing
further, Mr. Prempeh. Good day.”
    She dropped the
call in disgust.

    At the end of the school day, Paula found Diane sitting alone
at the teacher’s desk in the first classroom marking students’ papers. Paula
asked her how she was feeling. Since Heather’s death, she had been very quiet.
    “I’m a little
better, I think,” Diane said. “I haven’t been sleeping that well though, and I’ve
been thinking of moving out of the Voyager. Every time I catch a glimpse of the
pool, I feel sick to my stomach.”
    Paula pulled up
a chair. “Diane, the chief inspector called me this morning about Heather’s
autopsy and toxicology results.”
    Diane sat up
straight. “What did he say?”
    “They’ve
concluded that Heather drowned accidentally. They claim she had a high alcohol
concentration in her blood, so they think she drank heavily, went swimming and
drowned because she was so intoxicated.”
    Diane jerked her
head back, as if someone had tried to prod her in the face with a garden fork. “What? Intoxicated! But she hardly drank. And no way she’d go swimming in
the nude. What kind of crappy investigation is this?”
    “That’s what Gale
and I were saying to each other this morning,” Paula said. “We’ve been asking
ourselves if we missed something? I feel like we have. Did you see Heather on
Sunday?”
    “No, only
Saturday afternoon. We hung around the pool for a while and then went back to
our rooms when the light started to fade.”
    “Was she
downcast?” Paula asked. “Did she say whether she and Oliver were having any
problems?”
    Diane dropped
her gaze.
    “What’s wrong?”
Paula asked.
    “The police inspector
asked me if Oliver and Heather had been getting along well, and I answered that
I thought they were, but that isn’t true. On Saturday, while Heather and I were
talking by the pool, she said she needed some advice on something. She told me that
in the time she’d been seeing Oliver, he’d gone from asking her to help him get
to the States to asking whether he could accompany her when she went back home
to Portland; and just recently, he proposed marriage to her.”
    Paula’s
eyebrows shot up. “Go back to Portland with her,” she echoed. “Marriage? What was
Oliver thinking?”
    “That was
essentially Heather’s question. Honestly? I think she started something she
would never have been able to finish properly. The way I saw it, she was less
in love with Oliver than with the novelty of being with a black man.”
    Paula was
surprised. “Oh? Why do you say that?”
    “I’m sure I’m
not the only one who’s noticed these white women who come to Ghana and get swept
up by the whole African virility myth. You know, all that jungle fever
nonsense.”
    Diane’s tone
was bitter and she was frowning in distaste. Paula had never seen this
judgmental side of her, and she was shocked.
    “And on the
other hand,” Diane continued, “Oliver may have