The Corpse in the Cabana

seat at one of the umbrella-covered tables, sliding a pair of oversized sunglasses on my face. Not much of a disguise, but I doubted Kyle would be looking for me.
I sent Cheryl a quick text to tell her what I was up to. Her response came almost immediately and questioned my sanity while ordering me to remain where I was. She was on her way. I thought about texting Lucas. Having someone with muscles along could come in handy. Then I nixed the idea. Granted, he was in on the investigation, but I still wasn’t sure I could trust him entirely. What if he blabbed to the cops or something?
Cheryl still hadn’t arrived when Kyle exited the building, a key card clutched tightly in his hand. He didn’t see me, just kept his focus straight ahead, a determined expression on his face.
When he was halfway across the courtyard, I got up and followed him. What I wouldn’t give for a scarf or a big floppy hat. A disguise.
He got on the elevator, and I watched it slide upward. I’d no doubt he was headed for the fifth floor.
I dashed down the open-air hall and took the stairs as fast as my legs would take me. By the third floor, I was out of breath. By the fourth floor, my legs were rubber. By the time I hit the fifth floor, there was a stitch in my side so bad I was nearly doubled over. This investigation thing was a lot more physically involved than I’d imagined. Maybe I should start working out?
Panting for breath and clinging to the handrail for dear life, I made my way down the walkway toward room 506. The door was held open a few inches by the deadbolt, and I could hear footsteps inside. Yep, Kyle was definitely in there.
Now what? I fidgeted, not sure what to do. What would Jessica Fletcher do? She’d march right in there and confront him, that’s what. Or she’d sneak in and see what he was doing then confront him later. Yeah, great idea.
I sent Cheryl another quick text to let her know where I was and what I was doing—no sense being stupid about it—then turned my phone on silent. Carefully edging open the door, I slipped inside and let it close softly behind me. I could hear Kyle moving around in the front room. What on earth was he doing in there? Sounded like moving furniture.
I crept to the end of the hall and peered around the corner. Sure enough, Kyle was shoving the couch back against the wall. Clearly he’d been searching for something under or behind the couch. Whatever it was, it didn’t look like he’d found it, if the frown on his face was anything to go by.
The lamp beside the couch lit the room only dimly. The curtains were drawn tight so not a drop of sunshine slipped in. It was odd, though. I was sure the curtains had been open earlier that day. Had the maid closed them? Or had Kyle?
Kyle made a growl of frustration and kicked the couch viciously. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the blond strands, before turning toward the hall. I had nowhere to go but to duck into the bathroom, where he’d likely see me anyway. As quietly as I could, I stepped into the tub and huddled behind the shower curtain.
The light in the front room snapped off, and Kyle’s shoes thudded across the floor. His dark shape passed by the bathroom, then I heard the creak of the door as it opened. A slash of light streaked across the hallway before narrowing once again. I didn’t breathe easy until the door slammed shut.
What had Kyle been looking for? Some kind of evidence of his assignation with Natasha? Had he killed her here and then dragged her body out to the cabana? Unlikely. There probably would have been drag marks in the sand, not to mention sand all over her. I was no expert, but it looked to me like she’d been killed right there on the beach.
I was tempted to do a search myself. Why not? Clearly, Natasha had been in the room the night she died or Kyle wouldn’t have gone straight for it the minute he had a chance.
Stepping out from behind the shower curtain, I crept toward the hallway. I glanced left and right before snapping on the light in the hall. I wasn’t sure where to start, but since Kyle had been searching the couch, that seemed a logical place. Maybe in his haste, he’d overlooked something.
I’d just lifted the first couch cushion when the scrape of something against the tile behind me sent chills up my spine. I froze before turning around very slowly.
“Well, now,” Kyle said, his face an angry mask. “What have we here? A nosey little mouse come to poke into what isn’t her business. What shall we do about that little mouse?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out except a squeak. For in Kyle’s hand was clutched a very sharp knife.

Chapter 7
A Clue
“NOW, KYLE,” I SAID, holding up my hands in the universal sign of surrender. “Let’s not be hasty.” I backed up until my legs hit the mattress of the nearest bed. Kyle was going to kill me. I really should listen to Cheryl more often.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said with a frustrated snort.
“What?” He wasn’t going to kill me? I felt a flood of relief followed by complete and utter confusion. “You’re not going to kill me?” I blurted.
He gave me a baffled look. “Why would I do that?”
I stabbed a finger in his general direction. “You’re brandishing a knife.”
He stared down at the knife in his hand as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Oh, that,” he said, staring at the knife in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. “I thought you were the killer after me.”
“Well,