in him, too, like Goddard.
“That all depends on what Owen found, Mick. It’s a police matter and for the courts to decide.” I thought Mick would blow a gasket as Mitchum spoke.
“That’s why I told you not to get the police involved, Brien.” The anger fled, like air escaping from a balloon. Defiance was replaced by resignation on his battered face. The poor guy had been running on adrenaline for days.
Anger at those thugs had me riled up. After what he had gone through, Mick deserved to know the truth. What had Owen found? What if that cave still held answers, even without the GPS device or the coordinates on it?
We all just sat there for a moment. The contrast between the ugliness of Mick’s story and the beauty of our surroundings touched me. I reached over and clutched Brien’s hand. It was as if a clean, fresh breeze passed through my troubled mind. That feeling didn't last long. Mitchum popped up on his feet.
“Helluva New Year’s Eve, you two. Will this honeymoon of yours ever end?” I was about to say something I would probably have regretted later when a voice called out.
“Detective Mitchum,” we turned to find that hotel representative we had seen earlier striding toward us. “The all clear has been sounded. You and your party are free to return to the hotel. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Was there a fire?” I asked, impulsively.
“Yes. Nothing that put anyone in any danger. A small fire in a stairwell waste basket. My hunch is someone ditched a lit cigarette, and it caught fire. It happens once in a while, despite the resort's strict non-smoking policy.”
“Okay, well thanks for the update,” I said. With that, she took off. Mitchum walked back with us as far as that courtyard then split.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to stay put here at the resort. Enjoy the festivities, but please, do yourselves a favor and don’t go into town, okay?” We all nodded. He had a point. The day had been plenty bizarre already. Who in their right mind would go looking for more trouble?
8 nude awakenings
Once Mitchum left, we returned to our suite. We had another surprise waiting for us. As I reached for the door, I realized it was slightly ajar. My heart rate sped up a little. In our rush, had we done that? Was someone in there? Had that fire been started on purpose and the alarm set off so someone could sneak in and wait for our return? I motioned for Brien.
“Door’s ajar,” I whispered in his ear as he bent down. He got it immediately.
“Stay here,” he whispered in reply. What I had in mind was going back downstairs and getting hotel security to come check it out. Instead, Brien sprang into action. He bolted into the sitting room, practically ripped one of the table lamps from its electric socket, and held it up over his head like a gladiator wielding a mallet or a mace. The sitting room was empty. Brien placed a finger to his lips, dashed through the French doors into our bedroom and returned in a matter of seconds.
“Housekeeping,” he said. In his hand, he held a little gold box of chocolates and a note from housekeeping. They had cleaned the room while we were downstairs. Why not? We hadn’t placed the do not disturb sign on the door when we left.
“Why didn’t they shut that door?” I wondered aloud.
“Maybe they were in a rush with the fire and the alarm and all the confusion, Gidget.” Mick yawned and stretched as he made a beeline for that chaise lounge on the veranda. I watched him slip out the door in his hotel robe and slippers. Then it hit me. Why would anyone be cleaning rooms with a fire alarm screaming at them?
“Mick’s clothes!” I dashed into the closet off our bathroom. I had left those wet clothes in a laundry bag—a black bag hotel guests could use to send out their personal items for cleaning.
“Gone! It’s gone, Brien. The bag with Mick’s clothes in it is gone!” I stood there with both fists
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes