RESORT TO MURDER Read Free Page A

it.
Her brow puckered in annoyance as she scanned it. It was from her
mother, wanting her to call to let her know she had arrived safely.
Maggie shoved it in her pocket and resolved to wait before
responding. She would be able to handle it better after she had
wound down a little. But as she got back on the elevator and
watched the bellboy punch her floor button a small guilt feeling
crept in, which annoyed her even more.
     
    Forty-five minutes later, unpacked and
wearing white cotton shorts and a green T-shirt, her brown hair
pulled back into a ponytail, Maggie followed the signs to the
tennis courts. She crossed the sunny expanse of lawn that stretched
away from the pool area, then stepped onto a mulched pathway that
became a cooler, sun-dappled passageway through the wooded area,
with thick branches touching overhead. She took deep breaths of the
sweet, woodsy fragrance as she walked. It took only a few steps to
lose sight of both pool and hotel and to see nothing ahead but
plant life.
    A lifelong city-dweller, Maggie was suddenly
transported to another world, one much darker and quieter than any
backyard garden or city park she had ever been in. The
unfamiliarity began to make her uneasy. Her steps slowed, and she
started looking more closely at the terrain as she went. What was
that on the path up there? A snake! No, just a twisty dead branch.
She began to wish she weren't quite so alone. How far were those
courts?
    The temperature was at least ten degrees
cooler than it had been out in the sun, and Maggie rubbed her bare
upper arms, shifting racquet and tennis balls. A branch brushed her
leg and made her jump. She laughed nervously at herself. Maggie
walked on for what seemed too long a time, then turned a sharp
corner in the pathway. She drew a quick breath. There, up ahead,
finally, were the courts.
    "Should have warned me to wear my hiking
boots," she grumbled. "It wouldn't surprise me if I saw a moose
grazing over by one of the courts."
    As she got closer, she noticed a definitely
un-mooselike creature watching her. He was tall, dark, and had
better legs than any moose she’d ever seen. Judging from his
Highview-labeled shirt and shorts she guessed he was the tennis
pro.
    "Hi," he said as she drew closer, and as if
all his other attributes weren't enough, long, masculine dimples
appeared as he smiled. "Need any help?"
    Taking a calming breath, Maggie said, "No,
not now that I've actually found this place. But I was beginning to
wonder if these courts were somewhere in West Virginia."
    The dimples deepened as he grinned. "I know
what you mean," he said. "I think they had to searched hard for the
most level spot they could find. A lot of people complain about the
time it takes to get here. You need a court?"
    "I'm supposed to meet Dyna Hall for a match.
I assumed she reserved one."
    "Let's take a look.” He led Maggie into the
sports shop, a low, red brick building, and checked the sign-up
sheets spread out on a counter. "Dyna Hall...." He ran his left
hand down the list, which Maggie noticed was ringless. "Yup! Here
she is. Court five. She's signed in and should be over there
now."
    "Thanks," Maggie said, turning to leave.
    "Hold on, your name is...?” He grabbed a
pencil and held it poised.
    "Maggie Olenski. O-l-e-n-s-k-i."
    He wrote her name then smiled at her. "Hi,
Maggie. I'm Rob Clayton. Resident tennis pro. If you need any
lessons, I'm the one to call.” He flashed her a set of clean,
straight teeth and gave her a look that lasted a fraction of a
second too long, and Maggie was annoyed to find herself becoming
flustered. She pretended a sudden, overwhelming interest in a
nearby rack of warm-up suits to cover her reaction.
    "Well, we'll see how I do today," she said,
as she examined a silky sleeve.
    You've been cloistered in the classroom for
too long, she chided herself when she finally managed to walk away
from the building. One slightly attractive male smiles at you and
you react like a fourteen-year old.