Chapter 8 - Day 3

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Billy left the resort boutique with her purchases and headed back to her room in the convention center. Being the manager's daughter gave her many perks and one was being able to shop outside of regular hours. Rose, the women's boutique manager, was more than pleased to serve Billy before opening; her money was always cash on the barrel.

Billy regretted her behaviour with Miller in the restaurant but for some reason having him think that way had inordinately upset her. Why she cared was even more annoying; she barely knew the guy. If he came to the party he would be even more disturbed when he saw her in action and she would be more upset. Something about him had burrowed into her subconscious and she found his face intruding at inconvenient times. The feelings bothered her and she made a huge effort to brush them off.

Two couples following an attractive blonde all chattered noisily as they passed her and she was unable to hear what they were saying but she was left with the impression that it was some kind of tour. Windy Palms did a big convention business and lots of guests took advantage to combine that business with the extraordinary pleasures the resort offered.

Hector Prince, the deputy security chief suddenly appeared from behind a pillar, greeting Billy with a smug leer, which he reserved for those he viewed with envious contempt. His trademark cigarillo bobbed comically between his lips.

"Buenos dias, Hector." Billy didn't slow or offer any more opportunity for conversation but as she turned onto the walkway to the convention center she looked back to see him watching her, his smirk firmly in place.

"Creepy bugger," she said, as she entered the center and crossed the wide room to the office she was using as accommodation.

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The tour group split up at nine and Shelia found a chair in an alcove to use while she updated her notes. One couple was no problem, the Hubbards, they seemed more than happy to be receiving a dividend sooner than later. It was Glenda Weiss and her friend Gary Ordman that gave her some concern. A shadow fell across the glass top and when she looked up she saw the young man she'd just been musing about.

"Hi, is there something you wanted to ask?"

Gary sat without invitation and leaned his forearms on the table. "Yeah, I'd like to know just where the money from my investment went. I hear your spiel and I understand about the need for registration but the money must have been invested while waiting and I think I should be getting some return."

Shelia closed her notebook and took a long breath. This was bound to happen with someone at some time and she was pleased to think she and Winston had created a story for just such a moment. "Mister . . . ?"

"Ordman. Gary Ordman. I came in about three months ago when that Graves guy was at the Houseman Foundation dinner."

"Right. You and uhm . . ." Shelia tapped her nails on the table, "Miss Weiss, I believe."

"Right. And we're not all that happy with the way things are playing out. The reports we're receiving from other timeshare resorts don't jibe with the line you're feeding us on these tours."

Shelia held up a hand and showed him her most concerned but charming face. "I assure you, Mister Ordman the only difference is timing. Many resorts down here and actually all over the Caribbean have gone through exactly the same delays and . . . you must remember, some are much older than ours and others were originally built as timeshares. Also, by the time the reports are compiled and sent out to investors there is a gap of several weeks. When you are here on site the information is current."

She smiled a winning smile. "I felt the hesitancy with the Hubbard couple as well but I assure you there is nothing to be concerned about. As I mentioned to them the corporation is at this moment preparing the first round of investment dividend cheques. By the time you get back home it will probably be waiting. I guess you missed that on the tour." Shelia showed him a set of perfect teeth and the enthusiastic blink of her brilliant mauve eyes.

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