Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(13)

Change of plans, Gina thought to herself. Her original idea had been to rent a car and drive to the Jet Ski location and then to the restaurant. Why not experience for herself what Cathy was doing up until the last moments of her life?

On her way back to her room she stopped at the concierge desk and made a reservation for the next day’s Jet Ski tour. A hotel jitney would provide free transportation to the ski rental facility. “Yes,” she was told, “there are taxis available if you prefer not to take the jitney.” She could tell that the concierge found it odd, even suspicious, that she wanted to get to the concession early.

It was only nine-thirty, but she decided to go right to bed. She clicked off the light and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A faint glow of moonlight made the shapes of the furniture in the room barely visible. She tried to imagine what thoughts had been in her head as Cathy Ryan drifted off to sleep for the very last time.





15





Gina opened her eyes and glanced around the room. For a moment she was startled and didn’t know where she was. Everything looked so different from the small inns and tents they had stayed in during the hiking trip. “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy,” she joked to herself as she glanced out the window at the sun slowly rising over the Atlantic.

The small bedside alarm clock showed 6:45 a.m.

She slipped on jogging clothes and a sun visor and went for a thirty-minute run along the main road. When she got back to her room, she carried her laptop to the small desk in the corner of the room. Fourteen NEW messages greeted her, nothing from Meg Williamson. The only message she opened was from Ted.

Hey there. I didn’t call last night because I wanted to make sure I didn’t wake you up. Hard to describe how much I miss you. Even if I tried, I’d fall short. It’s tough being in love with a writer! LOL. LA is oven hot. Enjoy but be careful in Aruba. Love you to death. Ted



Gina sighed and got up from her chair. Why can’t I feel about him the way he feels about me? It would be so much easier, she thought, if I was as sure about him as he is about me. She headed into the bathroom and ran water for a shower. She would go to the business office to print the pictures of Cathy before going to breakfast. Maybe the waiters would have more time to chat if she got there early.

The breakfast room was almost empty when she entered. Two waitresses appeared to be on duty. A young couple wearing clothing more suited for a colder climate was finishing their meal. They’re probably headed to the airport and back to wherever, Gina thought.

Gina had a choice to serve herself at the buffet or order from the menu. The buffet looked tempting, but it would reduce her chance to naturally interact with the waiters. Seating herself at a table near the window, she slid the pictures she’d printed of Cathy out of her beach bag and put them on the table.

As she readied herself to talk to anyone who might remember meeting Cathy two weeks ago, she tried to focus on what information would be most helpful to her. According to Andrew, Cathy had come here alone. Cathy might have kept quiet about a plan to meet someone here, possibly whoever was negotiating with her on behalf of REL News. But why would the REL News negotiator go through the trouble to traipse all the way down to Aruba when it would have been much easier to see Cathy in Atlanta?

Another possibility was that the negotiator might have surprised Cathy with his or her presence here. If Cathy put off talking to him by saying that she was going to Palm Beach and then Aruba for a few days, it would not have been hard to find the hotel where she was staying. As Gina knew well, newspeople were very good at getting sources to share confidential information.

A waitress in a crisp short-sleeve white shirt and tight-fitting black pants came to her table carrying a pot. “Anna” was on the nameplate clipped to her breast pocket. “Yes,” Gina replied to her offer of coffee. As she was pouring, Gina pointed to the pictures of Cathy on the table.

“My friend stayed at this hotel about two weeks ago. By any chance do you recognize and remember her?”

“We have so many guests,” Anna started to say. She glanced at the picture, and her expression quickly changed, becoming more serious.

“Your friend is the woman who died in the accident. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. So am I,” Gina replied. “I believe my friend, Cathy, might have met someone at the hotel just before,” she paused, “her accident. I’m trying to figure out who that might have been. Do you recall Cathy spending time with anyone?”

“No. She was like you. By herself. I waited on her at dinner once. She was very nice. Very polite. I remember she asked for a table apart from the other guests. She brought a magazine to her table. But I never saw her reading it. She just stared out the window at the water.”

“If you remember anything about Cathy, please be in touch,” Gina asked, dropping her voice as she handed over her card.

“Of course, I will,” Anna promised. “It was so sad about your friend. She was so young and so pretty.”

“Yes, she was,” Gina said. “Now, one last favor. Would you ask the other waitress to come over and take my order? I want to ask her about Cathy.”

As it turned out the other waitress had no recollection of Cathy.



* * *



The cab ride to the Jet Ski rental took about five minutes. She told the driver she would not need a ride back to the hotel.