The room had not yet been cleaned. The bed was unmade, a damp towel was flung across the desk chair, and Allison’s big straw bag had been placed in the middle of the dresser. Susan hurried over to the bag and rummaged through it. No diary! She took a deep breath, looked around, and began to search the room. It was a small cottage, and ten minutes later Susan was sure of one thing: The diary wasn’t here.

TWENTY-THREE

Susan was sitting on the edge of the unmade bed playing with the unused key when Kathleen walked in the door.

“What does that open?” Kathleen asked.

“Who knows,” Susan answered, tossing it on the nightstand. “Do you have it?” she asked immediately.

“Have what?”

“Allison’s diary.”

“Of course not. It’s in the beach bag. I left it here for you. Didn’t Jed tell you?”

“It’s not here now,” Susan explained.

“Are you sure?” Kathleen asked.

“Yes, positive.”

“Someone must have come in here and taken it.” Kathleen walked around the room, pulling open drawers and peering into them. “It doesn’t look as though anything else is missing. Why would someone take that diary and nothing else? And how could anyone have known that we had it?”

“Kathleen, that doesn’t matter now. What did it say? You did read it last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but…” She paused.

“But what?”

“It didn’t say anything. At least, it didn’t say anything significant. It was a diary about food and clothing and exercise and dieting.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, apparently Allison’s New Year’s resolution was to lose ten pounds.”

“So she’s just like every other woman we know,” Susan muttered.

“Well, yes-and no. Allison apparently did it.”

“No, not like every other woman we know,” Susan agreed. “But is that really all there was? No comments about other things in her life? How she ended up vacationing here? Stuff like that? Anything at all about Jerry, or Hancock, or June?”

“Nothing. Really.” Kathleen walked over to the window and peeked through the louvers. “Now what do we do?”

Susan frowned. “There are two things I need to do today. First, I want to see Jerry. Do you think he’d like that?”

“According to Jed, his biggest problem is boredom.” Kathleen looked back at Susan. “I’m sure Jerry’d love to see you, but you can’t get any information from him. It’s like Jed said, he’s never alone. I-well, I wonder if you wouldn’t be better off here talking to people and trying to find out if anyone saw anything the night Allison was killed.”

“You know, everyone seems to want to talk to me about the time they spent with Allison, but, except for Ro, no one has told me anything significant about that night. Maybe I do need to stay here, but I’d hate it if Jerry thought I was ignoring him.”

“Oh, Susan, you know Jerry would never think that! And he’s so confident that he’ll be released.”

“Then I’d better get to work here and see what I can dig up. The next time you see him, you’ll give him my best.”

“Of course!” Kathleen glanced at her watch. “I told Jerry I’d order more meals for him. Guess I’d better get going. I’m going to bring him a late breakfast. I’ll find you as soon as I get back. Okay?”

“Sure. I’ll be around.” Susan spoke her last words to Kathleen’s back as her friend hurried off. Susan sighed and sat down on the bed, feeling completely alone.

She wasn’t going to look further for Allison’s diary. If Kathleen hadn’t destroyed it altogether, she would have hidden it in a place where it wouldn’t easily be found. Whatever Allison had written must have been incriminating. So incriminating that Kathleen didn’t dare share it with Susan.

Susan was shocked and confused. She needed time to think and she needed to keep investigating. She couldn’t imagine that it was possible to do both at the same time. Unless…

It was the best thought she’d had in days: time for a massage. It would relax her, and for once, a talkative masseuse would be a plus instead of an annoyance. She hurried off to the gift shop, determined to snag the first free appointment of the day.

“A cancellation. It’s serendipity, Mrs. Henshaw. We just had a cancellation. Lourdes will be able to take you immediately.”

“That’s wonderful. I’ll go on back to my cottage and get ready.”

“Excellent. Lourdes just left to get some supplies. I’ll send her over as soon as she returns.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Susan assured her as she left the little gift shop.

She didn’t have long to wait. Lourdes was at her door, folding massage table at her side, in minutes. Susan greeted her and let her in.

“Where you want me to set this up?”

“Same place as last time,” Susan said, pointing. There was very little extra floor space in the cottage. “Can you think of any other place?”

“On deck outside is possible. I keep you covered with towel while I work. The big cottages-their decks are more private. I set up my table out there and guests can have massages in fresh air.”

“Oh, that’s nice, isn’t it? But I think in here would be just fine.”

Lourdes flipped open the table and laid a couple of soft, thick towels on it, setting her lotions and oils up on the nearby dresser while Susan climbed on and settled into place. “Your vacation not going well,” Lourdes said, running her hands over Susan’s naked shoulders. “Your muscles tighter than before.”

“Yes, well, it’s been difficult.”

“Murder always difficult. Makes problems for many people. Not just for murdered people.”

Susan sure wasn’t going to disagree with that. “I’m worried about my friends,” she admitted.

“You should worry. Police on this island-pah, they no good. They lock up your friend. You worry. You worry plenty.”

Susan’s stomach turned over. But she had to concentrate. “The last time I had a massage, Allison-the woman who died-had failed to keep her appointment with you. But you did give her massages, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, every day since she arrive except for that day. She take care of her body, that woman. How she look, how she feel-it matter plenty to her.”

“She was in great shape, wasn’t she?” Susan said.

“Yes. She work at it. She say she work at her whole life. That may be true. Nothing come easy to some people.”

“That is true,” Susan agreed. “Did she tell you much about her life?”

“Yes. Some people like silence while I work. But not that woman. She was a talker.”

“What did she say?”

“You think I tell you something to help free your friend.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I hope you will,” Susan admitted. “I don’t know the other guests, or the staff, or the island police.”

“But you know Ms. Allison McAllister, yes?”

“I knew her long ago,” Susan admitted. “But it had been years since I saw her, so many years that I didn’t even recognize her.”

“She worked on herself, that one. She tell me she spent much of her life doing what other people tell her to do. Then she change and spend life taking care of herself.”

“I wonder what happened that caused her to change.”

“A death. A great love.”

“What?” Susan jerked her head up.

Lourdes applied firm pressure to Susan’s shoulders. “You not relaxing. We should not talk about this if it upset you. Massage do you no good if you not relaxed.”

“The more I know about Allison, the more relaxed I will be,” Susan assured her.

“Maybe that not true. Maybe you know more, you learn more, your friend look more and more guilty.”

“I won’t believe that. I’ve known Jerry for decades. I know he would not kill anyone.”

“We women are sometimes very foolish when it comes to the men in our lives.”

“Jerry is a friend. Not the man in my life,” Susan said.

“I not talking about Jerry. I not talking about you. I talk about Ms. Allison McAllister. She foolish. She fall in love with this man Jerry who is now under arrest.”