Death in a Beach Chair

FIVE

It began as the worst massage ever. Lourdes had strong hands and knew what she was doing, and although Susan’s shoulder felt better almost immediately, she found it difficult to relax while someone else was talking. And Lourdes had a lot to talk about-starting with her previous client.

Lourdes was waiting for Susan on the deck of the Henshaws’ cottage-early, she explained, because her last client had failed to show up for her appointment. It was happening more and more, she continued while setting up her massage table. Susan had retreated to the bathroom to undress. When she reappeared in the bedroom wrapped in one of the heavy terry cloth, one-size-fits-all robes the resort provided, Lourdes was still complaining about being stood up.

“I don’t make the appointments. I am told where to go to, what time to show up, and I do what I’m told. Always I do what I’m told. I was brought up poor, but I was taught to be reliable. Some of these rich people who come here could use a little training in reliability.” She stopped smoothing out the towel she had laid on the table, looked at Susan, and apparently realized who she was complaining to. “Most of our guests are wonderful people, you understand. I don’t complain about them.”

Susan smiled. “I understand.”

“And since you are on time, you benefit from the guests who are not so responsible. You lie down on table now, please.”

Susan did as requested, squirming about until she was comfortable and placing her head on the pillow Lourdes offered. She had barely closed her eyes when Lourdes started talking again. “Of course, there be guests who other guests not like. It not just me. Everyone here is complaining about them. They noisy and they bother the other guests. They demanding. They get up early. They stay up late. They hog the best seats.”

“What are the best seats?” Susan asked.

“Many of our guests prefer to sit on the patio between the pool and the bar. It is small. Only a half a dozen lounges and few tables will fit there comfortably. This group has claimed them since last Sunday-the day they arrive. They sit there and play cards in morning. They sit and play cards in afternoon. At night, when the dark come, they sit in bar at big corner table that everyone like and they play more cards. Cards. Cards. Cards. They do not even bet on who win. Can you believe that?”

“I guess,” Susan muttered.

“Cards not problem. No one care if they play. But they take best places. They make many guests unhappy. And unhappy guests need care, need to be made happy. Everyone must work twice as hard. Guests must be happy. Unlike staff. No one cares about unhappy staff.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s true.” Susan yawned. “The sun always makes me so sleepy.”

Lourdes didn’t take the hint. “We work and we work. And when we do a good job, we have a job. But if anything go wrong. No… if nothing go wrong and someone-some guest-complain, then we don’t work. There are not many places to work on island, not on this island.”

Susan decided that a change of subject was in order. “Have you always lived here?”

“Yes. Always. I leave island to study, then I come back to work.”

“Where did you go to school?” Susan asked, realizing she had to say something now that she had started the conversation going in this direction.

“On St. Thomas. They have very good massage school there.”

“Oh.” Susan had been thinking high school, maybe college. “How long were you there?”

“Two weeks. Our training was thorough, quite thorough.” As if to prove her point, Lourdes increased her energetic kneading of Susan’s left thigh.

“My legs may be a bit sunburned,” Susan said.

“Yes. You must be careful in our sun. The gift shop sells many brands of sunscreen if you forgot to bring.”

“I brought and I bought,” Susan muttered. Lourdes had moved on to her calves, and she was beginning to enjoy the entire experience. And drift off to sleep…

“That woman is a troublemaker. I watch her and I see what she do!”

Susan returned from the edge of sleep with a jerk. “You mean taking the best seats?” she asked, completely confused.

“The best seats? No, I think not. She like to be seen and she like not to be seen. She move from seat to seat. But always the men watch her.”

Susan realized Lourdes was no longer complaining about the cardplayers. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she admitted. It was obvious that the more she talked, the more Lourdes would respond, but perhaps it was better to give up any idea of sleeping. And listen to the gossip. Susan loved gossip.

“Ms. Allison. That is how she signs up for my services. She tell people call her Ally. Not staff, other guests,” Lourdes explained. “She was supposed to be my massage before you.”

“You’re talking about the woman who had the appointment before this. The one who didn’t show up.”

“Yes. She here on vacation. So she do little. She move from seat to seat. She swim. Eat. Drink. But she too busy to show up for massage that she sign up for.”

“Ouch!” Lourdes had expressed her frustration with this unknown woman by digging her thumbs into the arch of Susan’s left foot.

“You tell me if I hurt and I stop,” Lourdes muttered, moving to the other foot.

“I… that feels fine now.” It really felt more than fine. “Tell me about the other guests here,” Susan asked, guessing that she was going to hear the answer to her question whether or not she asked it.

But to her surprise, when asked, Lourdes refused to answer. “We are told not to talk about our clients,” she stated flatly.

“Oh, yes, of course. I-I just-oh, that feels good.” After a moment of silence, Susan drifted off to sleep as Lourdes worked on her left leg.

She woke up and realized that she was alone. The door was closed, but all the windows of the cottage had been thrown open. Heavy plantation shutters provided privacy but allowed warm breezes to drift through the room. She could hear voices-other guests walking by or lounging right outside the room. There were giggles and she realized that the two maids were working on the cottage next door. She rolled over onto her side, being careful not to fall off the narrow table, and pulled the fluffy towels around her. Sliding to the floor, she noticed a note and a pale orchid blossom lying on the middle of the bed. Her feet covered with massage oil, she slipped across the room and picked it up. It was from Lourdes, thanking Susan for her patronage and assuring her that the fee for her services would be added to her bill. Susan realized that she would have to tip Lourdes the next time she saw her. Or perhaps, she thought, she could get another massage tomorrow and tip for both services at the same time. The chatter had been irritating, but her shoulders and neck had never felt better. Smiling, she headed off to the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, clad only in a full-length sundress, she set out to search for her husband and friends. And found Jed and Kathleen still in their swimsuits, still sitting beside the pool. Their glasses of Perrier had been replaced by goblets of ruby liquid. Jed was chasing a chunk of fresh pineapple around his glass. He looked up as his wife appeared.

“You look wonderful. How was the massage?”

“Noisy, but good. How do I go about getting one of those?”

“Just go up to the bar and ask for the house special. It’s rum and amaretto and… I’m not sure what… something pink. Anyway, it’s delicious. Why don’t I order one for you? I was just thinking about taking a shower before I change for dinner. I’ll stop at the bar on the way and have someone bring you a drink.” He drank the last of his drink and got up.

Susan sat down as he left, turning to Kathleen with what she thought was an innocuous question. “Where’s Jerry?”

“Who knows? Last time I saw him, he was heading for the beach. I assume the pool was too tame for him and he was going for a swim in the ocean. Maybe he’ll run into one of those jellyfish that sting swimmers.”

“Kathleen!”

Kathleen flipped her long blond hair off her shoulders and sat up straight. “Well, wouldn’t you think that he would tell me what he was going to do? He didn’t have to invite me to go along. But he didn’t say anything. He just got up and walked off as though I wasn’t even around. I feel as though I might as well have stayed at home with the kids!”

“Oh, Kathleen, don’t say that! He may have thought you didn’t want to be bothered.”

“Susan, you and Jed have been married for over thirty years. Has Jed ever treated you like Jerry’s treating me?”

Susan thought for a moment before answering. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing or give the wrong impression. “Jed has not always acted as though my presence was the most important thing in his life. After all, I haven’t always acted as though he’s the most important thing in my life and that doesn’t mean that he isn’t. It just means that… well, after a while you sort of get used to the person you’re married to, that’s all.”

“Susan, I don’t expect Jerry to spend all his free time drooling over me, but common courtesy-”

“But you said yourself that he has a lot on his mind.”

“Which he won’t share with me! Which may have something to do with his first wife. Which-which is the real reason I’m so upset about all this, of course.” She picked up her glass and drained it. “I should have asked Jed to order another one of these for me. They really are good.”

“I think he read your mind,” Susan said as a waiter appeared and set a tray with two drinks, a small plate of spicy nuts, and fresh napkins between them.

“I’ll bring the crab cakes out as soon as they’re done. Your husband ordered them.”

“See, Jed is still taking care of you,” Kathleen said.

“Right now he is, but I can’t count the times I’ve asked him to get me something and he assures me he will and then forgets the minute he leaves the room. Heavens, he’s always forgetting to tell me people have called. The man can’t take a phone message to save his life.”

“But he doesn’t think about his first wife all the time,” Kathleen said sadly.

Susan wasn’t sure how to respond. “I think about June and the kids sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t consider you my best friend. And you know how I love Alex and Emily.”

“I know you’re right, but something’s changed. I don’t know what it is, but Jerry’s feelings for me have changed. Sometimes I get the feeling that he regrets marrying me!”

Susan picked an almond from the nut cup and examined it carefully before popping it in her mouth. Kathleen was a savvy woman with a lot of self-confidence and her feet on the ground. She was not the type to imagine problems where none existed. Susan suddenly found herself wondering if what her friend was saying might be true. Men did lose interest in the women they married. What if that was what was happening in the Gordons’ marriage? What if Jerry did regret marrying Kathleen? How would Susan know? Who really knew what went on in someone else’s marriage? She chewed and carefully considered what Kathleen was saying. Jerry claimed to be concerned about a problem at work, but Jed said things at the agency were just a little more hectic than normal. Jerry was distracted and looking at photos of his past life. Kathleen claimed he acted as though he no longer loved her. For the first time, Susan considered the possibility that this was true. By the time Jed returned, she was seriously depressed.

Dinner didn’t improve her mood. Their table was placed at the south end of the patio, and they had watched a glorious sunset while eating. As soon as the sun sank into the inky sea, the staff had scurried around lighting small votives on the tables and large pillar candles set in heavy hurricane lamps upon the shell-studded cement wall that prevented guests and the resort itself from falling into the sea. It was quite romantic.

“Storms tomorrow,” their waitress said, placing their orders before them.

“Can you tell that from just looking at the sky?” Susan asked, as a sautéed grouper fillet surrounded by tiny vegetables was placed before her.

“No, I can tell that just by listening to the radio.”

Everyone but Jerry laughed.

“Can I get you anything else?”

Jerry didn’t even bother to look up.

As the evening wore on, Susan was ready to believe the worst about Jerry. He had arrived late, apologizing perfunctorily without explaining the reason for his rudeness. Refusing to join the others in their preferences for island drinks, he had ordered a double Scotch, gulped it down, and then ordered another. Susan and Jed and Kathleen chatted throughout the meal, but by the time they had finished their main course, Susan, at least, was tired of making an effort.

Everyone refused dessert, although Jerry ordered a large brandy to take back to their cottage. The couples parted quickly, barely bothering to say good night. Jed had flung himself down on their bed, claiming exhaustion and a surfeit of rum. He was asleep before Susan had washed her face and brushed her teeth.

But whether the result of her long nap earlier in the day or because she was worried about Kathleen and Jerry, Susan realized she wasn’t ready to sleep. Quietly, so as not to bother Jed, she let herself out of the cottage.

There were diners still on the patio and in the dining rooms. The bar was full of carousing vacationers. Susan turned and walked away from the commotion, toward the pier leading over the water to the gazebo. She would sit for a while. Perhaps the cool breezes would make her sleepy.