Sunset Beach(46)
Now he grinned, his white teeth flashing against his model-perfect tan. “I’m a normal gay man. Of course I’m a great actor.”
Drue fell silent.
“Hey,” Corey said. “You knew I was gay, right?”
“No,” she said, trying to cover her mortification. “Which makes you an even more terrific actor. And you’re just right for the role I have in mind.”
* * *
They pulled up to the gate at the Gulf Vista in Corey’s gleaming black BMW convertible. A security guard approached the car, dressed in a close imitation of a Royal Bahamian police officer’s uniform, correct down to the white Bermuda shorts, red sash and pith helmet. “Hi,” Corey said, leaning out the window. He pointed to Drue, who was dressed in a striped navy sundress and pearl earrings. “My fiancée and I are getting married this fall, and we’re considering having the wedding here, so we’d like to take a look around, if that’s all right.”
“Have you spoken to Danielle Thompson, in our events office?” the guard asked.
“Oh no, it’s a little early for that,” Corey said. “We thought we’d just have a drink in the bar and walk around and get the feel of the place. I mean, we haven’t even set the date yet.”
“Miss Thompson is the one who speaks to all our brides,” the guard repeated.
“She’s not a bride yet,” Corey said, giving the guard a conspiratorial wink.
A car pulled in behind them and the guard looked over his shoulder. He reached into his pocket and produced a white guest pass. “Name?”
“Sanchez,” Drue said quickly. Just as well she didn’t give her real name here.
He scrawled the name on the pass and handed it to Corey. “Keep that displayed on your dashboard and park in one of the visitor slots near the lobby. That’s only for tonight, though.”
* * *
“You were brilliant,” Drue said, as she stepped out of the BMW. “Understated but persuasive.”
“I played Second Elf from the Left in our kindergarten production of Santa’s Secret Workshop,” Corey said modestly. “My parents said I killed.”
“This is some spread, huh?” Drue said, as they surveyed their surroundings. The low-slung white stucco architecture of the main building was nearly obscured by lush tropical landscaping. Huge tree ferns and palms intertwined above a red tile walkway that led to the glass-enclosed three-story atrium. A white-uniformed doorman silently opened the doors as they approached. “Welcome to Gulf Vista,” he murmured.
The lobby was dominated by a huge marble fountain, where water gurgled softly and bright orange koi flitted among shining copper pennies.
“Very impressive,” Corey said, as they walked through the lobby. “I wouldn’t mind getting married here.”
“Any prospects?” Drue asked.
“Not lately. Where do you want to start our mission?”
“Let’s just walk around, get the lay of the land,” Drue said.
They moved through the lobby and out through another set of large glass doors to a jungle-like garden with more winding red tile walkways. Irregularly spaced uplights cast the area in moody shadows. “They must spend a fortune on all this landscaping,” Corey observed.
“It’s kind of creepy if you ask me,” Drue said. “I keep expecting a coconut to fall on my head or a spider monkey to spring out at me from one of those palm trees.”
Eventually the walkway led them to a sprawling patio and pool area.
“That’s more like it,” Drue said. It was dusk now, and the kidney-shaped pool seemed to beckon in the waning light. There was a thatched-roof tiki bar, where a bartender in a Hawaiian shirt with a hibiscus tucked behind her ear wielded a silver cocktail shaker. Strings of café lights crisscrossed above the pool, lending a festive atmosphere. Guests lolled on chaises and chairs around the pool, sipping drinks. Beyond, there was another line of perfectly spaced royal palms, and beyond that, they heard the distant sound of waves washing ashore on the beach.
Drue pointed at a three-story wing to the north. “That’s the wing where Jazmin was working the night she was killed,” she said. “Zee’s report said the hotel’s security cameras showed her rolling her cleaning cart from that wing to the laundry room, which was where her body was found.”
“What now?”
She grabbed his hand. “Let’s take an innocent stroll that way.”
“What if we get stopped?”
“Who’s going to stop us?” she scoffed. “We’re young and beautiful and in love.”
They approached a set of double glass doors leading to a small lobby in the north wing, and Drue’s hopes were dashed.
“Damn,” she said, pointing at the key card slot. She tried the doors, but as expected, they were locked. Drue looked around, hoping a guest would appear with a key, allowing them to tag right along, but nobody was around. She glanced upward and saw a small video camera pointed in their direction.
“The laundry room should be around here somewhere,” she mused, moving away from the doors and out of camera range. She pointed at a narrower, concrete walkway that led toward the back of the wing. A discreet sign tucked into a mass of ferns proclaimed: SERVICE AREA. TEAM MEMBERS ONLY.