thanks."
But he'd seen the direction in which she was look ing.
"That your cabin? With light out? You twist an kle? I go put on light inside so you can see some."
He brandished keys.
"No, don't bother--"
She started after him as he hurried to help. In the darkness she stumbled and dropped her purse, which spilled its contents.
"Damn!"
Probably she was just imagining things. She paused to sweep items back toward the mouth of her purse. Surely they'd made enough noise to scare off anyone waiting inside, hadn't they?
"I come right back with new bulb for porch," the maintenance man called cheerfully over his shoul der.
He unlocked her door as he spoke and reached inside.
The darkened doorway seemed to explode in sparks, gold against black, a thin deadly fountain. Channing heard a terrible crackling, high-voltage buzz. She stumbled to her feet as his body fell.
Halfway there, her tightly strung nerves picked up a sound behind her. She whirled.
"Channing?"
The voice, her racing brain told her, belonged to Bill Ellery. He was coming toward her.
"How's everything going?"
The words sounded closer but she could just make out his shape against the backlit path. Her tongue froze.
He wasn't supposed to arrive till tomorrow! What was he doing here? She was suspicious of him. She was suspicious of Ballieu . She pitched her voice to reach anyone near, anyone in the neighboring bun galows.
"Help me!" she called. "Someone please help me! A man's been electrocuted!"
Six
Members of the resort's executive staff darted down the path to the bungalows like bees from a hive. Their hushed and frantic buzzing had nothing to do with the loss of a man's life, everything to do with business.
"Is the body covered?"
"Jesus! Let's hope they don't use a siren and spook the guests!"
"If the press shows up, you handle them!"
They jostled Channing as Bill Ellery began to steer her away from the area. His mouth was set. His grip on her elbow was half protective, half warning. Behind them, the entrance to her bunga low was being roped off. What few guests happened along were being rerouted with some story about a faulty transformer. Only minutes had passed.
"I thought you weren't arriving till morning." Channing fought to control her voice.
"I got restless."
Ellery pulled her out of the way as two more hotel officials came huffing toward the site of the tragedy.
"Are you okay, dear?" one of them asked, pausing to turn.
"Of course she's not all right!" snapped Ellery. "She's just seen a man electrocuted!"
He shoved her into a corridor of the lodge that was mercifully empty. Channing felt glad for the bruising hold he had on her, even for his anger. Was it weak to feel shaken? This was the second time in four days she'd seen someone die.
"No one's supposed to know why I'm here, except you and Oliver." She kept her voice just above a whisper, the shaken feeling giving way to rage at last. All she'd felt, all her suspicions of these last few minutes, began to spew free. "That man was inno cent -- he died in something set up for me. And don't tell me you believe what happened was an accident! I never touched that ice bucket -- never put anything in it to spill. For another thing, Ballieu's already here. I've seen him. How else can you explain what happened?"
Something crossed the surface of Bill Ellery's eyes. His tight lips parted as though to challenge her. Instead he shoved her, no more gently, through another door.
They were in one of Palacio Sol's many lounges, this one vest-pocket-sized and nearly deserted. Bill Ellery stopped at the bar and spoke to the bartender.
"Two double ryes."
Channing saw he meant well, but his blunt as sumption that she'd drink whatever was offered an noyed her.
"Make one of those dry sherry," she said.
She heard his breath fume out as he let go of her elbow. His eyes swept down her once, as though he'd like to make her vanish.
Abruptly he turned aside as the bartender brought their
But he'd seen the direction in which she was look ing.
"That your cabin? With light out? You twist an kle? I go put on light inside so you can see some."
He brandished keys.
"No, don't bother--"
She started after him as he hurried to help. In the darkness she stumbled and dropped her purse, which spilled its contents.
"Damn!"
Probably she was just imagining things. She paused to sweep items back toward the mouth of her purse. Surely they'd made enough noise to scare off anyone waiting inside, hadn't they?
"I come right back with new bulb for porch," the maintenance man called cheerfully over his shoul der.
He unlocked her door as he spoke and reached inside.
The darkened doorway seemed to explode in sparks, gold against black, a thin deadly fountain. Channing heard a terrible crackling, high-voltage buzz. She stumbled to her feet as his body fell.
Halfway there, her tightly strung nerves picked up a sound behind her. She whirled.
"Channing?"
The voice, her racing brain told her, belonged to Bill Ellery. He was coming toward her.
"How's everything going?"
The words sounded closer but she could just make out his shape against the backlit path. Her tongue froze.
He wasn't supposed to arrive till tomorrow! What was he doing here? She was suspicious of him. She was suspicious of Ballieu . She pitched her voice to reach anyone near, anyone in the neighboring bun galows.
"Help me!" she called. "Someone please help me! A man's been electrocuted!"
Six
Members of the resort's executive staff darted down the path to the bungalows like bees from a hive. Their hushed and frantic buzzing had nothing to do with the loss of a man's life, everything to do with business.
"Is the body covered?"
"Jesus! Let's hope they don't use a siren and spook the guests!"
"If the press shows up, you handle them!"
They jostled Channing as Bill Ellery began to steer her away from the area. His mouth was set. His grip on her elbow was half protective, half warning. Behind them, the entrance to her bunga low was being roped off. What few guests happened along were being rerouted with some story about a faulty transformer. Only minutes had passed.
"I thought you weren't arriving till morning." Channing fought to control her voice.
"I got restless."
Ellery pulled her out of the way as two more hotel officials came huffing toward the site of the tragedy.
"Are you okay, dear?" one of them asked, pausing to turn.
"Of course she's not all right!" snapped Ellery. "She's just seen a man electrocuted!"
He shoved her into a corridor of the lodge that was mercifully empty. Channing felt glad for the bruising hold he had on her, even for his anger. Was it weak to feel shaken? This was the second time in four days she'd seen someone die.
"No one's supposed to know why I'm here, except you and Oliver." She kept her voice just above a whisper, the shaken feeling giving way to rage at last. All she'd felt, all her suspicions of these last few minutes, began to spew free. "That man was inno cent -- he died in something set up for me. And don't tell me you believe what happened was an accident! I never touched that ice bucket -- never put anything in it to spill. For another thing, Ballieu's already here. I've seen him. How else can you explain what happened?"
Something crossed the surface of Bill Ellery's eyes. His tight lips parted as though to challenge her. Instead he shoved her, no more gently, through another door.
They were in one of Palacio Sol's many lounges, this one vest-pocket-sized and nearly deserted. Bill Ellery stopped at the bar and spoke to the bartender.
"Two double ryes."
Channing saw he meant well, but his blunt as sumption that she'd drink whatever was offered an noyed her.
"Make one of those dry sherry," she said.
She heard his breath fume out as he let go of her elbow. His eyes swept down her once, as though he'd like to make her vanish.
Abruptly he turned aside as the bartender brought their
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