Death in Paradise Read Online Free PDF

them yet. Please. Thea. Give me some space. I've got to think about what to do...."
    "Front desk," said a voice in my ear.
    Before I could speak, Rory grabbed the phone out of my hand and slammed it down. "You're not going to turn me in," she said. "I'm not going to let them get me!"
    "Then calm down," I said. "Sit back down in that chair and take some deep breaths. I'll get you some water."
    Obediently she sat in the chair. I went into the bathroom. As I came out with the water, she dashed to the door, opened it, and rushed out onto the lanai. I shoved the water glass onto the nearest surface and went after her. She climbed onto a chair and tried to get up onto the railing but I was there by then, with my arms wrapped around her waist, holding her back. She kicked and flailed and punched, and all I could do was hold on. If I freed a hand to do more, she might get away from me.
    A gasp and cry made me look sideways. A plump, pleasant-faced woman, with big, brassy hair was standing on the next balcony, staring. "Get help!" I said. "Call security and get someone up here!" She continued to stare at us, unmoving, as though we were staging this. "Stop staring and do something." I was yelling now. "Please. This is an emergency! Get someone up here to help me before she jumps." Or before Rory successfully bruised me from head to toe. The woman retreated, still staring, bumped off the wall, and disappeared inside. I could only hope she was calling for help and not writing her exciting adventure down in her vacation diary.
    I'd never had such a vivid understanding of the expression, "having your hands full." I sure did. Rory was slight but no weakling, and she squirmed in my grasp like an eel within the slippery fabric of her shapeless black sack. It was like wrestling with my brother, Michael, when we were kids. Like Michael, she didn't follow any of the rules of fair play, and I was taking quite a beating. I was trying to be calm and uncombative, but if she went for my nose, I'd let her jump. I knew from personal experience there was little more painful or unaesthetic than a broken nose.
    Finally I got her pinned against the railing, freed one hand, and slapped her hard. "Snap out of it," I ordered. She swore at me. I slapped her again.
    She went limp, cowering against the railing, her hand on her face. She raised stricken eyes. "You hit me," she said. "You hit me."
    "What do you think you've been doing? Dancing a jig?"
    At that moment help arrived in the form of a couple security men, two cops, including the big cop, Nihilani, and the goggling woman from next door. Better late than never. "I won't tell them anything," Rory whispered, cowering against my side. "No one needs to know."
    I explained the situation as briefly as possible, happy to hand Rory—reduced now to a limp, sobbing lump—over to professionals. I recommended sedatives and a physician and collapsed in my chair, head in hands. Eyes closed. Ten minutes left to prepare a speech, and I felt like I'd just been poured out of a cocktail shaker.
    I heard the door open and shut. Heard someone still moving around the room. Looked up. The big cop was coming out of the bathroom with a glass in his hand. He held it out to me. I took it, sipped it, set it down. My hands were still shaking. I closed my eyes again.
    "Scary, huh?" he said. I heard the creak of springs as he sat on the bed. Looked over at him. He was pulling out a notebook, wearing that 'ready-to-talk' look.
    "Not now," I said. "I can't talk to you right now. We've got a breakfast meeting in ten minutes and I have to give the speech."
    "We're investigating a murder," he said.
    "And I'm not being uncooperative. I'm just trying to keep a hundred and eighty more people from getting hysterical. After breakfast, I'm all yours. I'm not going anywhere. I'm trying to keep this conference from falling completely apart. I'm dying to do my job. Just like you." It sounded more defensive than I'd meant it to, but I