The Corpse in the Cabana

Jason Winters. Natasha’s almost-ex-husband. The two have a precarious relationship.” Which was putting it mildly.
“I see. Well, I shall leave you ladies to enjoy your evening.” He gave me a meaningful look. Which caused odd flutters in the region of my stomach. “I look forward to seeing you again, Ms. Roberts.”
“Uh, sure. Likewise,” I muttered as he strode away, cutting an elegant figure as he made his way through the crowd toward the exit.
“Do you know who that was?” Cheryl hissed, eyes on Lucas’s retreating figure. He had a rather nice posterior aspect, not that I noticed. Much.
I shrugged. “Not really.”
“Lucas Salvatore is like the number-one best-selling thriller writer. He’s been raking in the dough for a dozen years at least. They’ve made movies of his books. Blockbusters. Like with famous actors.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
Cheryl rolled her eyes. “Nice? The man is filthy rich. And he was flirting with you.”
I gave a snort of disbelief. “Sure he was.” And if she believed that, I had an igloo in Arizona to sell her.
THE PARTY WAS WINDING down, more than half the attendees having disappeared over the last half hour. Natasha, on the other hand, was still going strong. She was draped over her boy toy, grinding against him with her lower half. It was awkward, to say the least.
“For crying out loud,” Cheryl said a little too loudly. She was on her third glass of wine. Wine made Cheryl exceedingly honest. “They should get a room. Give the rest of us a break. I swear my eyeballs are bleeding.”
Whipping around like a snake scenting prey, Natasha zeroed in on Cheryl. Oh, great. Just what I needed. Jet lagged, a little tipsy, and definitely not in the mood, I watched Natasha stalk toward my best friend.
“Listen, you little harpy,” Natasha started, her medically enhanced features twisted in a drunken sneer.
“Natasha, she didn’t mean anything,” I said, stepping in front of Cheryl. “We’re all tired. It’s been a long day. Why don’t we go to bed and pick this up in the morning?”
Natasha snorted, looking at Cheryl like she was so much dog poo. “She’s just a jealous little witch. Can’t get a man. Can’t sell books.”
“Jealous? Of you?” Cheryl burst out laughing. I could hear the slight edge of hysteria. Natasha was full of it, of course. Cheryl got plenty of male interest, but she was focused on her career. And she did sell books. Scads of them. She just wasn’t in Natasha’s category. Not many are. Still, Cheryl tended to be sensitive about those subjects. She thrust her chin out. “Oh, yeah, I’ve always wanted to be a drunken lush.”
Natasha let out a scream of rage and charged around me at Cheryl. Cheryl’s drink went one way, the glass shattering on the marble tile and red wine splashing across a white tablecloth. Cheryl herself went the other way, Natasha on top her screeching like a banshee. I stood there with my mouth open like an idiot while the two of them rolled around, yelling insults at each other and occasionally landing punches. Cheryl, being less drunk and much younger, was landing better hits, but Natasha was a wily one, and Cheryl would likely be sporting a black eye come morning.
Shaking myself out of my stupor, I reached down and grabbed the nearest arm, trying to yank whomever it belonged to away from the fight. “Stop it. Both of you. For goodness sake— Ouch!” I got an elbow in the cheekbone for my trouble. Cheryl wouldn’t be the only one with a black eye.
“Here. Let me.” It was Lucas, back from wherever he’d slunk off to. He grabbed Natasha under her armpits and lifted her off Cheryl as easily as if he were lifting a child. It couldn’t have been as easy as it looked. Natasha was screaming and kicking the entire time.
I leaned over to help Cheryl off the floor, my cheekbone still smarting from whoever’s elbow. I was blaming Natasha.
“Ms. Winters, you need to calm down,” Lucas was saying in a soothing voice.
Natasha let out a string of words that would have had my mother reaching for the soap.
“Now, is that any way for a lady to talk?” Lucas asked mildly.
My eyes widened. If Lucas Salvatore didn’t want a knee to the groin, he probably should back off the lecturing. Let me tell you, if a man spoke to me that way, he’d be missing body parts.
Fortunately for Lucas, Mr. Winters appeared. He somehow got Natasha more or less under control as he guided her out of the ballroom. Her boy toy had long since disappeared. Probably embarrassed to death, or worried about losing his job. I was pretty sure he was one of the bar staff since he wore a staff polo shirt.
With Natasha gone and the fight over, bystanders drifted off either to the bar or their rooms. Nothing to see here, folks.
“Can you believe the nerve of that...woman?” Cheryl huffed as we exited the ballroom. The way she said the word “woman,” I was pretty sure Cheryl had a stronger word in mind. “Jealous? Of her? As if! At least I don’t need to drape myself all over some kid to get attention.”
“Well said,” I murmured. I didn’t bother pointing out it was Cheryl’s loud mouth that started the problem in the first place.
The wide double doors swished open, and we stepped from the frigid air conditioning of the main resort building into the humid heat of the Florida night. The Fairwinds Resort was made of several individual buildings, four of which framed a peaceful central courtyard complete with swaying palm trees, umbrella shaded bistro tables, and a bubbling fountain.
I let out a huge yawn. “Boy, I’m exhausted. I think it’s time to hit the hay.” I was hoping Cheryl would catch the hint. She did.
“I could use a hot shower,” she agreed. “And eight hours of sleep. Classes start tomorrow, and I want to be fresh.” She gave me a perky, albeit slightly tipsy, smile.
Since