Death in a Beach Chair by Valerie Wolzien Page B

later.”
    “Exactly.” Susan frowned. “I can’t remember the last time I saw her alive, to be honest. Not that I knew who she was.”
    “My goodness. She said she had changed a lot, but I didn’t really believe her. You know how it is. You dye your hair a shade lighter and think everyone you know will notice, but, in fact, the only person who knows—or cares—is you.”
    “She had done a whole lot more than dye her hair,” Susan said. “She had lost about forty pounds. Her hair was a completely different color, and long and straight rather than short and curly. She dressed differently. She had contact lenses. She might have even had cosmetic surgery. She looked familiar, but I never realized who she was.”
    “Was she much more attractive than when you knew her?” Ro asked.
    “There was no comparison. She used to be . . . well, not hideous or anything, but rather plain—homely if you want the truth. And yesterday . . . well, she was smashing!”
    “She had a very interesting theory, and from what you say, she was living proof of it.”
    “What theory?”
    “She said you lived the first forty years of your life in the body your genetic makeup decreed, but once you turned forty, your appearance depended on how hard you worked at it.”
    Susan was silent for a moment. “I never thought about it like that, but it’s probably true. The funny thing is, I never would have thought that Allison cared about her appearance. She always looked so dowdy and dull.”
    “Those are two words I certainly wouldn’t have applied to the Allison I knew.” Ro leaned closer and lowered her voice as though about to convey a dirty secret. “I’m positive she saw the plastic surgeon more than once.”
    “Do you know if she was here alone?” Susan asked, wondering if Allison had a man in her life these days.
    “Yes. She told me she was alone the evening we met. I was a little concerned. A gorgeous single woman can cause a lot of mayhem in a place like this. I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes.”
    “What do you mean? What happened?”
    “Well, naturally not everyone comes here with a husband or what everyone these days calls a significant other. But this isn’t the type of resort that appeals to swinging singles looking for a vacation pickup. There are lots of those places available. But every once in a while someone comes here looking for a holiday fling. The second year we were here—or was it the third?—no, I’m pretty sure it was the second—there was a woman who damn near caused a divorce when she set her cap for a married man.”
    “That really doesn’t sound like Allison,” Susan said.
    “Perhaps not, but there aren’t many men who didn’t look up when she walked by in one of those tiny bikinis she wore.”
    “No, I guess not.” Susan thought for a moment. “Not counting last night, when did you last see Allison?”
    Ro frowned. “You should remember that I didn’t identify Allison as one of the people I saw last night. In fact, if anyone asks, I wouldn’t be able to tell them if your friend’s companion last night was male or female.”
    “That’s interesting,” Susan said, noting that this could be the most important thing she had heard so far. “But what I’m wondering is when you last saw her here—just walking around or whatever.”
    “That’s easy. We had lunch together yesterday. And she was sitting at the bar having a rum punch last night when Burt and I went in before dinner.”
    “Was she alone?”
    “Yes, but I must tell you that I got the impression that she was waiting for someone.”
    “What did she do that gave you that impression?”
    “She was looking over her shoulder at everyone who came in. She seemed rather nervous.”
    “Do you know who she was meeting?” Susan asked.
    “No, we left before anyone joined her, I’m afraid. But I think we can rule out your friend. After all, they had just spent the afternoon together,” Ro added before Susan could ask another