Death in a Beach Chair Read Online Free PDF Page B

and she tossed the horrible orange hat on the batik bedspread. She would figure out what to do with it later. Perhaps she could donate it to one of the charity sales that organizations in Hancock were so fond of holding. If, that is, she even managed to get it back to Hancock. It certainly wouldn’t fit under her airplane seat or in the overhead compartment. She could, she supposed, always wear it.
    Back at the pool, Jed and Kathleen were now swimming slow crawls up and down the length of the pool. Jerry was lying on the lounge his wife had occupied, facing the sea. From this angle, Susan couldn’t tell if he was napping or just watching the water. But it was obvious that no one needed her. Small boys, so thin that their cutoff jeans were in danger of slipping from their hips, were out on the gazebo dropping nets in the water and pulling them up, full of shimmering silver fish. Curious, Susan turned around and headed in that direction.
    Two middle-aged couples were sitting on chairs placed along the deck leading to the gazebo. They shared two small tables. One was covered with half-filled glasses; on the other, one of the women was playing a lackadaisical game of solitaire. “I thought we were going to play bridge,” she was saying as Susan passed by.
    “After lunch,” one of the men said.
    “After my nap,” the other man added.
    The two women exchanged glances. “Perhaps,” the one who had just ended her lonely card game said to the other. “Perhaps we should go see what there is to buy in the gift shop.”
    “I thought you bought the place out yesterday,” growled one of the men, reaching out for his glass.
    “Yeah, well . . .”
    Susan hurried on, unwilling to allow other couples’ squabbles to mar her vacation. For a resort that advertised itself as one of the most romantic spots in the world, there sure seemed to be a lot of bickering going on.
    The boys who were fishing turned out to be island natives, not related to the resort’s guests. They were thrilled to have an audience and explained that their relatives—older brothers, Susan gathered—would be using what was caught for bait to catch “the big fishes off the boats.” Their fishing was energetic, messy, and highly productive. In minutes, they had filled three plastic buckets with fish. They then took a moment to show Susan and another woman who appeared in the gazebo shortly after her the long, thin fish that swirled through the water beneath the dock, causing the smaller baitfish to flee out to sea. “Barracuda!” one of the boys yelled. “You see, you swim with barracuda!” Laughing loudly, the boys ran back toward the shore, the water in their buckets splashing out and wetting the legs of the card-playing women as they passed by.
    Susan stared down into the water and realized that, in fact, she may have been swimming with those ugly things. She worked to remember the little she knew about these fish. Certainly they cleared the area of smaller fish, but would they go after people swimming in the same water? She’d try to remember to ask James when she saw him again. She leaned her arms on the railing and stared down into the water.
    “Don’t worry. They’re not sharks. They don’t attack people.”
    Susan had been joined by the tall blond she had seen out here early this morning. Now the woman was wearing white linen slacks and a bikini top that barely covered her ample tanned breasts. She was carrying a long batik scarf.
    “I’m glad to hear that,” Susan admitted. “I’d hate to stop going in the water on our second day here.”
    “Don’t. I find the water in the Caribbean to be like satin—warm, smooth, delicious to swim in.”
    “Yes. I guess. I’ve only been in for a few minutes,” Susan admitted, remembering her tumble off the kayak only a few hours ago.
    “Well, don’t let those fish keep you out. I like going in late, after dark.”
    “Isn’t that dangerous?” Susan asked. “I mean, what about ocean currents,