I figured we’d start at the pool. It was a warm summer
afternoon, a Friday, and Dixon didn’t sound like the volleyball or horseback
type. So we grabbed towels, and our room keys, and checked the map for the
route to the pool. Rachel carried a small purse slung over one shoulder with
our phones, and we both wore sandals we’d found in the bathroom. Other than
that, we were, well, completely nude.
We passed
more nude people, of course. All shapes, ages, races, and sizes. Most of them
smiled and said hello, except for one middle-aged couple who looked angry with
each other. Rachel pointed down a row of hedges, and we headed toward the
sounds of splashing and laughing.
Something
poked at my side. I stopped and turned. Nothing—except a breeze pushing at the
side of the hedge. I rubbed my hip. My skin stung.
“What?”
Rachel looked back at me.
“Nothing. I
thought I—felt something.” Like porcupine quills brushing against my body. But
I didn’t see anything but shadows across the wooden walkway.
The pool had a lap lane, and two
people were swimming with hard, swift strokes as if they were racing each
other. On the other side of the line, men and women treaded water and chatted
near the pool’s edge, or floated on rafts, baking their skin the summer sun.
Mid-afternoon, not too hot, with a cool breeze over the water.
A bar
served cocktails. and Rachel bought a beer and a Coke. I was still taking my
anxiety meds, which meant I couldn’t drink, and given my state of nervousness
at walking around stark naked, that was probably a good idea.
“Relax.”
Rachel nudged my arm. “It’s nothing anyone here hasn’t seen before.”
I glanced
at her. Then looked away. “Yeah.” I peered through my sunglasses, looking for—
Dixon.
He was
sitting at a table beneath an umbrella, drinking what looked like scotch,
talking to another man about the same age—balding, overweight, sweating on the
towel underneath his thick legs.
Well, that
was easy.
“Find
someplace to sit.” I took a swig of my Coke. “That’s him. I’m going to try to
listen.”
“How about
if I walk around and distract him?” Rachel grinned.
I rolled my
eyes. “Then he might stop talking.” Also, I didn’t enjoy the thought of anyone
seeing Rachel like . . . this. Even though I’d noticed a bunch of eyes checking
her body out as we walked. Not all of them male. “Plus, you’re distracting me
enough already.”
Rachel
giggled. “Okay. Meet you in a few minutes.”
I had to
walk around the pool slowly, trying not to watch Dixon the whole time. When I
got close to his table I took another swallow of Coke and stood, pretending to
just enjoy the sun. Which, to be honest, felt pretty good.
A curly-haired blond woman in her forties—my
age—looked up from a chair. “First time, huh?”
Was it
obvious? “Uh, yeah.”
“Don’t
worry. You get used to it.” She closed her eyes.
“Good to
know.”
“–And then
it all goes to Xenon.” Dixon sipped his scotch. “I get 20 percent. That’s not
right, especially when I send half of that to Torwald. You’ve got to fix that,
Vann.”
“These
things take time.” Vann was drinking white wine. “You know that.”
“How long?
I’m coming down here every weekend, my wife’s going to start getting suspicious
. . .”
I sauntered
away.
Rachel had
found her own table topped by a blue umbrella, and also two new friends—both
young guys with deep suntans. All over.
She waved as I walked over. “Right
here! This is Tom. My boyfriend.” She held my hand as I sat down. “This is
Jason and . . . what’s your name again?”
“Gil.” The
other guy laughed. “Nice to meet you, Tom. First time here?”
Why did
everyone keep asking me that? “Yeah. But I’m getting used to it.”
Jason stood
up. “We’re going to shoot hoops. Want to come?” He was obviously asking Rachel,
but he included me in the offer. Out of pity, I supposed.
Rachel
laughed and shook her head. “Not my game. Nice meeting you.”
They walked
off. I noticed a long bandage on Gil’s butt. I glanced at Rachel, but I didn’t
want to draw her attention to another man’s buff, toned body.
I drained
my Coke. “So, you’re making friends. Not surprised.”
She kicked
me with a bare foot under the table. “Who was that blonde chick you were
talking to over there?”
“Just, uh .
. . okay, we just said hi. And I was working. Sorry.”
“Look.”
Rachel leaned next to me. “You asked me here. I’m helping. Those guys were just
being friendly. Everyone here is friendly. Did you notice I told them you were
my boyfriend right away?”
“Yeah.” I
shook my head. “Sorry.”
We’d had a
rough patch. Fixed things up. And we were okay now.
But it was
different with all the nudity. People were looking at Rachel—and Rachel was checking
them out in return.
She reached
out to stroke my arm. “What’d you find out?”
Oh, right.
I was working. “The other guy’s name is Vann. Dixon is worried about not
getting enough of a return from the money he’s sending to something or someone
called Xenon, and then to something else called Torwald. Give me my phone.”
Rachel
tossed her little purse on the table and stood up. “Knock yourself out. I’m
going swimming.” She leaned down, her lips tickling my ear. “And by the way,
that woman at the next table in the big floppy hat? She’s totally checking out
your butt.” She dug her fingers into my arm. “Talk to her and I’ll kill you.”
“Uh . . .
right.” Maybe that was fair. I watched Rachel as she strode toward the pool.
Then, of course, I turned around to check out the woman behind me.
Long arms,
slim legs, and a hat that hid her face. If she noticed me, she didn’t give any
sign. Maybe she was sleeping in the sun.
My laptop
was back in the cabin. So I used my phone to look up Xenon and Torwald.
A search
for Xenon, Zenon, Zhenon, Shenon, and every other spelling I could think of got
me nowhere—or everywhere, with more than a million results. Xenon was No. 54 on
the periodic table of elements, and it was the name of at least 2,000 companies
on Google. Some of them were even involved in real estate, but I couldn’t any
connection to Dixon or his company, DX Holdings.
Torwald, on
the other hand, turned up close to 200,000 hits, but once I narrowed that down,
I had only about 200 hits that corresponded with “real estate” anywhere near
Chicago. I found links to DX Holdings on most of them.
Rachel
walked up, dripping, and wiped her body off with her towel. “Anything?”
“Just a
minute.” I tapped my phone. “I think . . .” Then I looked up. “Nice swim?”
“Invigorating.”
She sat down, planting her towel beneath her butt. Just like the rules said.
“Okay.” I
glanced at her, but tried to keep my mind on business. “Dixon’s shuffling money
around. I’m not sure it’s anything illegal, but he was angry talking to Vann.
I’ll have to call my client again, see if she recognizes any of those names.”
“Right.” Rachel
leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “We can get dinner soon.”
“Uh, yeah.”
I tapped my phone. “Let me just, uh, make a call . . .”
“Hello?”
Amelia Dixon sounded as if she’d had a few cocktails too.
“Tom Jurgen
here. Your husband is meeting with a man named Vann, and they’re talking about
two companies named Xenon and Torwald. That’s all I could overhear.”
“Vann.” I
heard a slurp. “Bald guy, heavy?”
“Drinking
white wine.”
She
laughed. “That’s Vann Meadows. I don’t know exactly what he does. He used to
come to the house, but I haven’t seen him for months. He and Walt would talk in
his office for hours, and then all of a sudden Vann wasn’t coming over anymore.
You think he’s driving all the way to Indiana just to talk to Vann? And leer at
naked bodies?”
An
anorexically skinny girl in her twenties lurched by on crutches, accompanied by
a young African-American man who glared at me. I looked across the pool.
Dixon and Vann were still talking, ignoring
the bare flesh all around them.
“I don’t
know. Have you heard of Xenon? Or Torwald?”
“Torwald,
yeah. They’re partners in some real estate deal. Xenon I’ve never heard of. Oh,
wait . . .” She paused. “I saw some emails from them. I only read one, it
didn’t make sense. Just a bunch of numbers. Okay, I spy on his email. I’m just
trying to protect myself.”
“Right.”
Without wives and girlfriends spying on emails and social media, my business
would dry up. Except for the vampire and demon cases. “I’ll see what more I can
find out. But I have to say, right now, this may be all I can get. I’m not sure
I can listen in on them more closely.”
“Whatever
you can get.” She sighed. “At least . . . I don’t get it. A nudist camp?”
I risked a
glance at the naked woman in the floppy hat. Fortunately Rachel seemed to be
asleep. “I’ll be in touch.”
Back in our cabin, we munched on apples and pineapple slices
from the promised complimentary fruit basket while we checked our email. And
then . . . well, we’d been naked all afternoon.
After a while we took a shower
together and then headed to dinner. Rachel wore a T-shirt and blue cutoffs, and
she’d picked up a pair of athletic shorts for me.
The dining
room looked out at the pool. A handful of people were still swimming, splashing
and laughing in the water, or laying out in the twilight sun.
Inside we found a buffet. Most people
wore shorts, shirts, and sandals. A few men were completely nude, and some of
the women wore only thongs or bikini bottoms. I looked for Dixon as I picked up
slices of chicken and salmon, ignoring the steak. Rachel piled her plate with
salad. She’s a vegetarian.
“Oh, look!”
Rachel pointed. “It’s Jason and that other guy! Let’s sit with them.”
Peachy. We sat down as Jason and
Gil said hello again.
“So where are you guys from?”
Rachel poured herself some wine from the carafe in the center of the table.
“We’re in Chicago.”
“Indianapolis.”
Jason was sipping a beer. “I met him at a dog park. Then he brought me here.”
“We’re
married.” Gil clutched Jason’s hand. “This is our anniversary.”
I shouldn’t
have been so relieved. “That’s great.” I lifted my glass of water. “Congrats.”
They
kissed. Then Jason smiled at the two of us. “What about you? One day soon?”
Rachel poked
at her salad. “Maybe.”
Gil sliced
his steak. “Wow, this looks good. Nice and rare.”
Rachel
looked ready to gag. Like I said, vegetarian.
I peered
around the dining room. No sign of Dixon. Wait—I saw Vann in the corner,
sitting between two young women, laughing as he gulped some wine. A moment
later Dixon joined them, a towel over his shoulder, carrying a plate heaped
with steak and vegetables.
I leaned
forward. “Go listen.”
“What?” She
slammed her fork down. Jason blinked at me.
“Just . . .
walk around behind them. They might recognize me from before. Pretend like
you’re going out to the pool. Don’t, you know, get their attention. Just listen
to them.”
The girls
were giggling. One of them stroked Dixon’s arm. Rachel grimaced. “They don’t
look like they’re talking business.”
Yeah. “Maybe you’re right.” I shrugged.
“Let’s just eat dinner.”
“No, it’s
all right.” She stood up and smiled at Jason and Gil. “Be right back, guys.”
I watched
her go. Jason winked at me. “You’re a lucky guy.”
“That’s
what she tells me. All the time.” I sipped my water.
Rachel
pulled her T-shirt off and folded it over her arm as she approached the table
in just her shorts. Dixon ignored her, more interested in the girls on either
side, but Vann looked up at Rachel and smiled.
I was ready to lurch up and
challenge them both to a duel to the death, but Rachel walked past them. The
lights from the pool lit her shoulders as she opened the door behind them, and
then she was gone.
I heaved a
sigh. Then I stood up, gulped some water, and grabbed a roll from a plate. “Save
our food. We’ll be right back.”
I went out
the front door and circled the building, looking for Rachel. She was standing
near the gate by the pool, leaning on the fence and looking out at the water.
Three people were swimming, and a group was still chatting at a table even
though the sun was down.
“So, did
you hear anything?” I leaned against her shoulder and offered her the roll. The
part I hadn’t eaten, anyway.
Rachel
shook her head. “They were just flirting.” She took a bite. “Did you see that
blonde with the big—oww!”
She bent
over, almost collapsing to her knees. I held onto her shoulder, keeping her up
as she reached around her back, grunting. ”What?”
She held up
her hand. It was stained with blood. “What the . . .”
I leaned
around to look at her. Blood leaked from a gash on her leg, just below her
shorts. It didn’t look deep or life-threatening, but it wasn’t a bee sting.
She’d
draped her T-shirt over the fence. I yanked it and pressed it against the
wound. “Hey!” Rachel winced. “I like that shirt!”
“I like not
seeing you bleed.” I caught her hand. “Let’s get some first aid.”
A tall
skinny man pushed through the pool gate. “You okay?”
“My
girlfriend got—wounded somehow. Do you know where we can find some first aid?”
“They have
stuff up at the office. Do you need help?” He held out a hand. “I’m Jack, by
the way.”
“I’m fine.”
Rachel stood up and held the T-shirt to her skin herself now. “Rachel. Tom. But
thanks.”
“Same thing
happened to me a few weeks ago.” He pointed to his foot. “Must have scraped it
somewhere. Stung a lot. Anyway, go to the office. They’ll help you.”
“Thanks.”
She hobbled off.
I tried to
hold her hand, but she shook me off. “I can walk, Tom. It just—stung, is all.”
Stung. Just
like Perry the office manager had described his “scrape.” “I didn’t see
anything. You were just standing there.”
“Uh-huh.
But I felt something. It was there, right behind me, for just a second. And
then I was bleeding and you were ruining my shirt.” She leaned against me.
“You’re buying me another one.”
I wasn’t
sure I could expense that, but I’d worry about it later.
Perry was still
in the office. “Oh, my.” He brought a first aid kit out of the back room. “I’m
sorry. When you’re nude, it’s very easy to get cut or scraped by a bush or a
rock or a fence—”
“She was
just standing outside the pool.” I pulled a pack of alcohol pads from his hand.
I wasn’t letting anyone touch Rachel’s leg but me.
“It just
kind of zipped by. Ow!” Rachel yelped as I cleaned the gash. It was three
inches long, and looked like something had taken a bite out of her skin.
Fortunately the gouge was shallow and stopped bleeding as I fumbled with the
largest bandage I could find.
“Does this
happen a lot?” I looked for a wastebasket. Rachel sighed as I threw her T-shirt
away. “I’m seeing a fair number of bandages on people. Like yours.”
He shrugged.
“Like I said, people get scrapes and bruises they don’t expect when they’re
nude. Minor wounds are part of the risk members assume when they sign up. Even
for weekend memberships.”
I
remembered signing a form when we checked in. It had covered bee stings,
falling off horses, and sunburn, but I hadn’t noticed anything about being
maimed or mauled by invisible forces.
Perry gave
us a bag filled with extra first aid supplies, mainly alcohol pads, antibiotic
ointment, and more bandages. Rachel smoothed the bandage over her thigh. “I
guess I’ll live. At least my shorts are okay.”
More than
okay, but I didn’t want to say that in front of Perry. “All right, thank you.”
I remembered the dinner I’d left with Jason and Gil. “Let’s see if we can still
get some food.”
Our plates
were long gone, and so were Jason and Gil. I couldn’t blame them. We hit the
buffet again and sat down, Rachel wincing as she tried to find a comfortable
position.
“So what do
you think?” I sliced my salmon.
“I think
I’m not going swimming tomorrow.” Rachel stirred up her salad. “And other . . .
activities may not take place as scheduled.” She kicked my ankle.
Darn. I
glanced around the dining room, seeing more and more bandages on areas I’d been
trying to keep my eyes away from up to now. Okay, most of them were probably sports-related,
sliding on the tennis court in pursuit of a flying ball or banging a shoulder
against the wall of the pool. But I saw one woman with gauze wrapped around her
thigh as she made her way to the dessert tray, limping with each step, and a
short man with tattoos over half of his body sporting a big bandage around his
shoulder.
Maybe I
should start asking people. No, that was a bad idea. But how else could I find
out what was going on? If anything was? “You okay?”
Rachel
gulped some wine. “I felt something. Not just the bite on my ass, but . . .”
She wiped a hand across her forehead. “I need to go to bed.”
Her eyelids
were drooping, and her arm dropped on the table. I helped her up.
Back in the
cabin I wiped off her gash again with more alcohol pads, applied a new bandage,
and found a bottle of Tylenol in her purse. “Take these.” I pushed a glass of
water at her lips.
“I’m fine.”
She swallowed. “Just let me rest.”
I pressed a
hand on her forehead. No fever, no infection. I set a bottle of water on the
table next to the bed.
“I’m going to take a look around
outside.” I had no idea what was going on—or if it even connected with Dixon
and my client. But I’d brought Rachel here, and she’d been attacked. She’d
probably forgive me. It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten her in trouble with
some kind of supernatural monster. But I couldn’t sit around wondering what was
happening outside. Whatever had attacked Rachel might come back again. And more
people might get hurt.
“I’ll be fine.” She managed a weak
punch to my ribs. “Just . . . be careful.” Rachel closed her eyes.
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