Page 65 of Beach Bodies

He locks his arms around me. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to get dirty again first?’

‘Not before breakfast,’ I say, with another firm smack on his very toned rear end.

‘OK,’ he says, gripping my hips like he’s trying to cement me in place. ‘I’ll shower, but don’t disappear on me.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I whisper, and lean up for a peck, morning breath be damned.

At the bathroom door, he turns. ‘If room service comes while I’m in the shower, there’s cash on the dresser for a tip.’

‘Take your time!’ I shout as he disappears. The shower turns on. I make a beeline for his laptop, which is miraculously still unlocked. I take a hasty seat. The chair is still warm from Daniel, the Word doc he was typing in just there for the taking.

OK, Mr Lukiewicz. You gotta give me something…

I read quickly.The Riovan cuts an impressive picture on the beautiful coast of remote Saint Lisieux… the water on sunny days is a crystalline blue…Blah blah blah… The document is just notes about the hotel. This is actually very good: heisa writer of some kind. If he was Interpol, or FBI, I’m guessing he wouldn’t be spending his precious time writing atmospheric copy about the resort.

I minimize the Word doc and start scrolling through his folders. Playlists… Article Proposals… Travel Receipts… Photos…

Episodes?

I click on that one. Inside are ten numbered folders– for Episodes one through ten, I assume. I open the first.

There’s a Word document entitled Carlos Dulatre. Blood starts rushing through me like a spring flood as I double click.

The memories are immediate, flying at me like a spray of gravel to the face.

It was four years ago. Carlos was my first true target, a Riovan fitness instructor, and he deserved it. It was my first year as a lifeguard. That year, the Riovan was filming promo videos of real customer testimonials for their new-and-improved website, and I happened to walk in on Carlos encouraging a young woman to vomit before her recorded weigh-in.

I made an elaborate plan to kill Carlos. First, I’d flirt my ass off and get him to promise me a one-on-one late-night workout session. I’d ask him to demonstrate a bench press, and while I was ‘spotting’ him, I’d make sure he had an accident. The barbell would ‘fall’ on to his neck. They’d find him the next morning and everyone would assume he’d misjudged his strength– and been stupid enough to think he didn’t need a spotter.

Unfortunately, the flirting didn’t work. Turns out Carlos was not only gay, but had it out for seasonal employees like me. ‘Private training is for paying guests,’ he said when I proposed a private session. His lip curled, like I disgusted him. ‘Sometimes you people forget that youworkhere.’

Later, as I headed to the basement pool for some relaxation of my own, there was Carlos ahead of me on the stairs, a towel slung around his neck, AirPods in, moving his head to the music. We were alone. I didn’t think twice. I jumped down a few stairs, and before he had time to turn around, I shoved him.

The stairs were slippery. It was a long way to the bottom. And he landed head first. The Riovan installed a dehumidifier and anti-slip strips on the stairs the next season.

Daniel’s notes are surprisingly thorough, spanning from Carlos’s childhood all the way to his death. My name is nowhere in the file– but the Episode One folder contains a hell of a lot more than this single document.

I open an audio file, the first of many. Maybe it’s risky to play audio with Daniel so close, but he’s singing ‘Ring of Fire’, loudly. Should be safe.

A female voice, tinny in the computer speakers, says, ‘Yes, I loved Carlos. He had so much positive, go-getter energy. He made me feel like I could do anything. I was devastated when I heard about his accident.’

‘You appeared in a promotional video for the Riovan,’ says Daniel’s voice. Deep, self-assured, and somehow soothing to listen to, in spite of the dark subject matter. ‘Can you tell us about the experience of working with Carlos while filming that promo material?’

‘Sure. He’d been working with me for two weeks already. I had this weight goal, for my wedding. And the whole video was supposed to showcase my last weigh-in, and like, that moment of me hitting my goal.’ There’s a weepy pause. ‘I couldn’t have done it without Carlos.’

I hit stop. Oh. My. God. Daniel tracked down the woman who vomited. And… she’s speaking fondly of Carlos. My stomach turns.

I open the next audio file. Daniel’s voice, again.

‘So Carlos was in his third season at the Riovan when he died.’

‘He was very dedicated to our customers.’ I’d recognizethatvoice anywhere. Vic. ‘No one cared more than Carlos. Their goals were his goals. Frankly, sometimes guests docome here with stretch-goals. Some might have written them off as unrealistic, but Carlos always had the mindset that anything was possible. I think he really inspired people to give their all.’

‘Is there any reason you think someone might have wanted to kill Carlos?’

‘Kill him? No! It was an accident.’

‘I have in my notes that the Riovan installed anti-slip treads on the stairway where he died. Would you say that conditions were unsafe, prior to that update?’

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