Page 32 of Last Ticket to Paradise

Chapter Seven

When Georgette jumped out of her chair, it clattered against the cobblestones. She grabbed her bag, smashing it to her chest as if the feathers and charcoal could protect her right now.

A crowd of locals formed around Jake and the man, now chattering and gesticulating. Georgette edged up behind Jake, peering around his broad back.

Jake held up his hands. “Slow down,Jimar. What happened?”

Jimar hacked and coughed, and someone handed him a glass of water from the restaurant. “I went to Fiso’s place to see if he wanted to help me with a job. Screen door was closed, but his door was open and the TV was on, so I walked in. He was sprawled in a chair. I thought he was sleeping, but he didn’t move.”

“Did you see any wounds or blood?”

“No, but...” His eyes darted around the crowd. “His pipe was on the floor.”

Jake swore and grabbed another man by the sleeve and gave him a shove. “Go find Clive.”

While others in the crowd peppered Jimar with questions, Georgette tapped Jake’s shoulder. She cleared her dry throat and wiped her clammy palms against the skirt of her dress. “What happened? What does it matter if Fiso’s pipe was on the floor?”

Jake studied her face, and then his eyes dropped to her hands now pleating folds into her skirt. “Jimar means Fiso’s crack pipe, but my guess is Fiso was smokingCrystal Delight.”

Georgette licked her lips. Maybe Fiso hadn’t been murdered after all, which had been her first thought. “What’s Crystal Delight?”

“It’s a manufactured drug, a form of crystal meth. Since his wife...left, Fiso’s been smoking more and more of the stuff.”

Georgette blew out a breath. Had her visit reminded Fiso of his loss? He was already wasted when she’d gotten there, but had she made it worse?

Clive scuttled into the square and took Jimar by the arm, leading him away. A few minutes later, a yellow ambulance, its siren blaring, pulled out of the firehouse.

The crowd dispersed, and Jake turned to her. “You look a little green around the gills. You didn’t know the guy...did you?”

“Of course not, but we had a few drug overdoses in our town—college students. It’s tragic.”

Jake stared over her head. “Yeah, tragic.”

His eyes shifted to her face. “You look tense. I insist you accept a spa package on the house. I’ll take you back, and you can set something up for the early evening.”

She started to protest and then snapped her lips shut. Why not? She wasn’t doing Jamie any good standing around wringing her hands.

Jake left to talk to Clive and Jimar, and Georgette hopped on the van to return to the resort without Jake. She had one more stop to make before sinking into luxury at the spa.

When she got back to her room, Georgette closed the door and scraped the charcoal across the tile floor, creating a black line. With a smile twisting her lips, she rubbed the feathers over her body but ignored the garlic. She’d had enough of that in the gumbo.

She then tucked the leather bag with the Palarosa icons into her suitcase in the closet and scheduled her spa appointment. On her way back down, she lounged near the breezeway where Jamie’s room was located.

A housekeeping cart trundled around the corner, its wheels bumping over the red tile floor. It stopped in front of one of the rooms. The maid opened the door and pulled some towels from the cart.

Georgette approached her. “Excuse me. I ran down to the pool for a minute and forgot my key. Can you let me in?”

The maid smiled. “Which room?”

Georgette gestured down the hall. “This one, three doors down.”

Georgette held her breath behind her smile as she led the maid to Jamie’s room. The maid slipped the card in the door and pushed it open. “Do you need fresh towels?”

Georgette gripped the door handle. “No, thanks.”

She snapped the door closed behind her, leaning her forehead against it, breathing heavily. The squelch of the maid’s soft-soled shoes retreated.

Georgette spun around. Shadows crouched in the corners of the dark room. She crept forward and whispered, “Jamie?”

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