Abandoned by MHR Geer

Author:MHR Geer [Geer, MHR]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The same girl sat behind the desk in the marina office.

“Hi, I’m Anne,” I told her. “I’m sorry, I haven’t asked your name.”

“I’m Claire.”

“When I was here before, you mentioned rentals. You said that some people rented their boats out?”

“Bien sure,” she said. “Are you looking for a place to stay?”

“Yes. I don’t want to stay at the motel any longer. I need something today, if possible.”

She turned to her computer screen and typed as she spoke. “Let’s see what we can find for you. It’s the off-season, so there should be something available.”

She muttered in French as she searched the listings.

“Is it just you?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“I don’t have anything today. But you can leave me your details, and I’ll call you if I find something.”

I left my phone number and walked back to the car. I passed the short palms where Goti and I had spoken, and I perched on an uncomfortable stump and booked a hotel room on my phone.

The hotel was a sprawling resort. White buildings rose from a white sand beach that curved around a shallow, turquoise cove. A path snaked around pools filled with bloated tourists, thatched-roof tiki bars, and misting porticos. In my room, I dropped my belongings on the bed and opened the sliding glass door to a narrow balcony.

The poolside was a hive of activity. Watchful moms with brave toddlers sat on wide pool steps. A volleyball bounced over a net that stretched the width of the pool. A dozen heads bobbed on either side.

I left the bag of clothes on the bed and took my backpack with the money and my laptop. I paid cash in the hotel gift shop for an overpriced two-piece suit, a sarong with a pattern of fuchsia hibiscus, and a wide-brimmed straw hat. I stretched a towel across an empty lounge chair beside a woman hidden behind a paperback.

On a new notebook page, I wrote, Why break-in? What were they after? No one could have known about the notebook pages on my wall. They were looking for something else.

A man in a white polo shirt and crisp khaki shorts stopped next to my lounge chair and clapped. “You look too serious!” He cocked his head and giggled. “No working allowed by the pool. We’re just about to start a new game of volleyball. Will you join us?”

“Uh,” I said. “No, thanks.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll be back. I’ll find an activity for you.” He pointed at me and grinned. He moved on, and I heard him clapping as he found his next victim. I turned back to my notebook and wrote, Money.

Who knew about the money? Goti? Sandy trusted Goti, and she didn’t easily trust anyone—not after what happened in Saint Martin. If he hadn’t told anyone, perhaps someone had seen me at the bank. Or maybe the break-in had nothing to do with the cash. They’d ripped the notebook pages off the wall. Maybe the break-in was tied to Sandy’s arrest.

There was another explanation—one I’d been ignoring.

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