Page 85 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

I really didn’t like this woman, but I bit my tongue. I might not like her, but I was also suspicious about her actions. I wondered if Diana had attempted to blackmail Sherry. Maybe that was what the money was for—murder for hire.

A chill went down my spine at the thought.

The engines started up, and a moment later, we were pulling away from the dock. Gregory, the server, came down with flutes of champagne and a tray of hors d’oeuvres. They served champagne like water.

I excused myself, went out to the deck, and watched St. John shrink as we left the bay and picked up speed. I hadn’t brought a book with me. Ineverleft home without a book, and yet I hadn’t even thought about it today. Diana’s disappearance and murder had consumed me, and whoever stole the book drew me deeper into the mystery. But tonight—tonight was Jason and me. I was excited... and a little scared. There was chemistry between us—we both felt it. I smiled, leaned against the railing, closed my eyes as the wind whipped my hair around. Wishing Jason was here, just the two of us.

I heard something—metal on metal, maybe—opened my eyes, and turned around.

I screamed, dropped my glass. It shattered on the wood deck. Sherry was standing right behind me, so close that she could have pushed me overboard.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she said in a tone that said anything but.

Gregory came from the cabin, saw the broken glass, and said, “Ms. Crawford, Ms. Morrison, be careful. I’ll get the broom.” He hurried away.

Sherry stared at me. “Stay out of my business. Stay away from my family.” Her voice was low and menacing.

“Family?” I repeated, though I thoughtbusiness. She had seen me following her. A lump formed in my throat. Where was Gregory with the broom?

She smiled. It was twisted and cruel. “Future family.”

Then she went back into the cabin, leaving me perplexed and a lot worried.

Andrew met the ferry when we docked. I watched from the deck as Sherry ran to him and kissed him with the passion of the honeymooning Kents. He responded in kind, put his arm around her waist, and they walked down the beach toward the resort.

I had a lot to think about.

I took the shuttle, and when it dropped me off in the roundabout, I headed straight to my cottage, avoiding three conversations.

Doug was his usual chatty self, but I bowed out of drinks by the pool because of a “headache.” Brie tried to flag me down, but I waved her off, not wanting to engage in that conversation yet—though I knew I’d eventually have to ask her if she took the book.

And Mrs. Kent, the female half of the horny honeymooners, who was, surprisingly, not with her husband. In three days, I had never seen them separated.

“Have you heard anything about what happened to that poor woman?” she asked me as I passed her exiting the yoga studio, her skin glistening from exercise.

Okay, so I avoided two and a half conversations.

“No,” I said, still walking.

She turned and walked beside me. “I talked to one of the maids, andshesaid that the woman was murdered.” She whisperedmurderedlike some people whispercancer.

“That’s the rumor,” I said, trying to give off the aura that I was busy without being rude.

“I heard she had stayed in your room,” Mrs. Kent said.

That stopped me, literally, and I faced her. “Really?”

“Don’t you think that’s creepy?” she asked.

If she had learned that Diana had been in my suite, maybe it was common knowledge. Itwouldbe common knowledge among the staff.

Maybe Brie hadn’t been the one to take the book. Maybe itwasSherry, who could have easily known which cottage Diana was in. Or someone who knew what Diana was writing in the book and had been looking for itin her room.

But why her room and not the luggage in storage? I remembered the staff that first night I was here at the Sky Bar commented that housekeeping had packed up her room because she hadn’t checked out. I’d thought maybe Amber asked Gino to look through the suitcase—or that he allowed her to do so. If she didn’t find the book, the next logical step would be to search the room.

A lot of theories, but little evidence to back them up.

“Creepy,” I agreed. “You okay after the other night?”

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