Flirting Can Be Murder

By Susanne Marie Knight

New murder mystery romance!

A tropical paradise offers romance... and murder to ten unsuspecting guests!

A VACATION IN PARADISE
Widowed Vonni Taylor is looking to heal from a troubled marriage. A restful holiday in the ultra exclusive Privacy Island Resort is just what she needs. Or is it? One guest chokes on a beverage; another guest oversleeps... permanently. And while Vonni might want to take her attraction to a handsome Italian nobleman further, she has more important things on her mind... like will she live to see another day?

A VACATION IN HELL
Personal security investigator Oliver, the Conte di Battiato, was supposed to have an easy assignment on Privacy Island, but as soon as he arrives, people around him start dropping like flies. When he takes charge of protecting the guests, he finds one particular woman distracting him from his duties--his cara mia, Vonni. Despite his efforts, the death toll mounts. The killer is a cunning one; will Oliver be able to use all his resources to stop the carnage and keep Vonni alive?

PRAISE FOR FLIRTING CAN BE MURDER:

5 Stars! A new murder mystery romance novel to sink your teeth into! A tropical vacation features ten guests and six staff members. Who will survive this exotic... and deadly resort? One by one the murders occur, fast and furiously, and all the while I was rooting for Vonni and Oliver along with a few others in this assortment of vividly drawn characters. Will romance bloom on the ultra-exclusive Privacy Island or will Death wipe out everyone except for the killer? Grab your copy, a beach chair, and a delicious chi-chi drink and then indulge yourself with this perfect puzzle set in the South Pacific and in Tuscany!--Norwood Reviews

5 Stars! Secluded on a tropical island dedicated to the mega-wealthy are a variety of guests: a gambler, a widow, a divorcee, a flunkey, a drunkard, a gossip queen, a Hollywood actor, a nymphomaniac, a Gypsy, and an Italian count. One of these guests might also be doubling as a psychopath with his or her own agenda. Or is the killer one of the staff? The pace is fast, the murders come quickly, and the sexual tension is delicious! FLIRTING CAN BE MURDER serves a double dish of murder and romance that keeps you guessing.--Mystery Maven's Reviews

A week's vacation at an exclusive, secluded, tropical resort on the mythical Privacy Island? Sign me up! Oh wait. Hidden among the guests and staffers is a cold-blooded serial killer! When a South Pacific storm wipes out communication avenues, these folks become sitting ducks, waiting to be slaughtered. Who is this audacious murderer? Guessing is part of the fun! Each character is well-developed and they come alive for the reader... but then some of them exit the island permanently. Ms. Knight keeps the tensions high as she weaves her tale of life and death and romance. Two thumbs up!--On The Edge Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanne Marie Knight
• Release date: Jan 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005329143

Susanne Marie Knight

Award-winning author and seven time EPPIE / EPIC eBook Award Finalist Susanne Marie Knight specializes in Romance Writing with a Twist! She is multi-published with books, short stories, and articles in such diverse genres as Regency, science fiction, mystery, paranormal, suspense, time-travel, fantasy, and contemporary romance. Originally from New York, Susanne lives in the Pacific Northwest, by way of Okinawa, Montana, Alabama, and Florida. Along with her husband and the spirit of her feisty Siamese cat, she enjoys the area's beautiful ponderosa pine trees and wide, open spaces--a perfect environment for writing. For more information about Susanne, visit her website at www.susanneknight.com.

Book preview

Prologue

It was time. Time to separate the wheat from the chaff. The good from the bad. The innocent from the wicked. Time for the Reaper to lay waste to those who continued to pollute this earthly plane.

The Reaper was ready. The location for this particular purge was a pleasure dome in the Pacific Ocean called the Privacy Island Resort and Spa. Privacy Island, not Fantasy Island. And not Secrecy Island, although all of the people to be judged... and found wanting... had secrets.

The time allotted for this elimination was to be one week. One week for the Reaper to metaphorically swing the dreaded scythe to remove these foul souls from their rabid lives.

The Reaper had never failed before. There was no reason to expect the Reaper to fail now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One

August

Fun. That was what Vonni Taylor wanted. That was what she desperately needed: to escape her boring, drama-filled life and instead experience mindless fun; glorious pampering; and a never-ending stream of blissful calm, peace, and quiet.

Ahhh! An impossible dream!

With a slight smile, she turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling window next to her air-cabin chair. Flying over the sparkling waters of the Pacific, she sat mesmerized by the turquoise expanse below. The waters were so close; they beckoned to her, urging her to take a leap off this aircraft to then touchdown into the ocean below.

Splash! She smiled again.

Not that she would ever take such a risky action, but the very thought was spontaneous and gave her goosebumps even as she sat in this incredibly luxurious air vehicle.

Nothing but the best, that was what the brochures for this resort promised. The Privacy Island Resort and Spa--where she was headed--was touted to be the absolute pinnacle of luxury and extravagance. The island was so secluded, even its name and its location were kept secret. After arriving on the Hawaiian island of Maui, she and the nine other passengers boarded the huge hybrid airship, and now they were traveling west. This was the second day.

At a leisurely ninety miles per hour air speed, the aircraft was in no hurry. Vonni used this time to decompress--leaving behind the pressures of her family life to throttle back to island time. Arrival at the resort would be in a few hours.

She couldn’t wait: sun, sand, and solitude!

Hiya! came a high, jittery voice. How ya doin’? Mind if I join ya?

Well, mostly solitude. It seemed Georgia Chambers, one of the fellow passengers, was a bit needy, clingy. She’d latched onto Vonni like a life preserver. Closest in age of the ten resort guests--twenty eight to Vonni’s twenty six, Georgia had already decided they’d be BBFs. Best Friends Forever.

Vonni wasn’t so sure. She hadn’t signed up for a week’s worth of fun and frolic in order to get a new best friend. Then again, allies were always important no matter where a girl found herself.

Sure, Georgia. Have a seat. She extended her arm at the matching chair facing hers. The area around these two chairs next to the window was the most secluded place on the airship, except for the back bedrooms.

Yep, back bedrooms. This air-cabin was luxurious, indeed.

The main area of this flying craft consisted of an airy grouping of couches and chair arrangements to foster intimate conversations. Also included on this level was a circular seating layout that was surrounded by windows and glass floors to take in the spectacular views--above and below. For those who enjoyed their beverages, a full service bar could be found at the forward part, the bow, providing good drinks and camaraderie.

Vonni wasn’t interested in camaraderie. She planned to mingle once she arrived at the resort. But having a chat now with Georgia would be okay.

The young woman settled into her chair and brushed back her golden overhang of choppy bangs. She seemed completely genuine, open as a book, without an ounce of guile.

Quite refreshing, really.

Georgia wore a high-necked, long sleeved shirt that seemed more appropriate for wintertime, not summer. Maybe the air conditioning on the airship was too cool for her.

Gosh, Georgia gushed. I could get used to this kind of luxury, y’know?

She didn’t wait for a reply. This is the first time I’ve seen ya since we boarded. I’ve missed ya. Us girls have to stick together, right? Been hiding out in your en suite bedroom?

Vonni could’ve taken offense, but why bother? She shrugged. Not hiding out. Sheer exhaustion, really. Just woke up an hour ago.

Georgia’s eyes--a popping shade of blue grey--bugged out further. No kidding! Wow! You missed out on a great meal last night.

As food didn’t interest her right at the moment, Vonni tuned out her companion’s description of the feast.

Yep, I met most of the folks at dinner. Lemme tell you, there are some fine looking men coming out to the resort to party with us. Four prime specimens. Georgia kissed the tips of her fingers and blew the kiss out into the air. Ultra-prime! Even the fifth one, Austin Prederson, isn’t a bad treat for the eyes.

Vonni lifted her gaze to look over at the bar and the main area of the airship where most of the passengers were congregated. While she wasn’t interested in men--goodness, how could she be? Her husband died less than a year ago--male eye candy could definitely brighten a dreary day.

She turned her attention back to Georgia. You’re looking to indulge in a fling?

Maybe. Who knows? My divorce is being finalized even as we speak. The woman’s wide smile was playful. Maybe even more than one fling, right? Flirting is fun. Why shouldn’t I indulge myself?

Why not, indeed? Perhaps that was good advice.

One of the passengers left the bar and walked through the couch area holding a tropical drink. She was an attractive older woman, elegantly dressed, with a determined glint to her blue eyes. It looked like she was heading for Vonni.

Georgia leaned forward and whispered, That’s Delores Marchant. Mrs. Howard Marchant. A longtime widow from the Midwest. Lemme give ya a word of warning, that gal thrives on gossip. Absolutely thrives. She’ll dig out your secrets in two seconds flat! She got me to reveal that I stole the money for this trip from my hubby. My soon-to-be ex hubby.

Georgia lowered her voice further. Believe me, the lout deserved it!

Oh. Vonni bit her lower lip. She didn’t exactly have secrets, but then again she didn’t care to have her circumstances bandied about the resort, either.

Hello! I’m Delores Marchant and you’re Yvonne Taylor. We didn’t have a chance to meet before. Here, this chi-chi is for you. The woman handed over the white tropical drink and lifted her peach colored lips in a smile.

Thank you. Vonni took the drink. I love chi-chis. And please, call me Vonni.

Of course. Of course. Delores then waved her hand at Georgia. Now scoot, Georgia! You’ve had your turn.

Sure. Getting out of the chair, Georgia darted her gaze at Vonni. I’ll talk with ya later. She took off for the full service bar.

The woman seated herself taking care to smooth down the flowered linen material on her slacks. Georgia’s such a wild animal, don’t you know? Had an abusive husband. Tsk-tsk. As for me, my dear Howard passed away ten years ago. Then came another tsk-tsk. So, Vonni, tell me all about yourself.

As if!

Smiling, Vonni took a sip of her creamy drink. Vodka, pineapple juice, and coconut milk. Mmm, it was yummy!

Nothing much to tell, Delores. I’m also a widow. Almost a year now. Graham, my husband, had made arrangements for this trip to the resort. For two, but of course...

So you decided you would honor his memory by coming alone. Excellent. Excellent. Delores patted at her honey-brown short hair. It was so rich with color that it sounded crispy.

How about you? Why are you vacationing at the Privacy Island Resort, Delores? Sometimes, an offensive move was the best defense.

The pampering, darling! This place is a legend among all the world’s spas. Delores made a little moan of pleasure. I intend to lose at least fifteen years here, between the mud baths, hydro-facial therapy sessions, complete body massages, and more. Oh yes, Norman, that’s the resort’s executive manager, has promised me I’ll return to the States looking like I’m fabulously forty. He’s such a doll, on duty and off!

Leaning toward Vonni, she then whispered, Here’s my secret, darling. I say I’m fifty, but truthfully, you can add five years to that.

Oh. Vonni hadn’t been out of her bedroom for more than thirty minutes and already she was privy to two of the resort guest’s secrets.

Delores looked over her shoulder and then whipped her head back around. Hold onto your hat, darling, but the delectable Drake DeMarco is heading our way.

Vonni glanced up to see a very handsome man, rugged with ripped muscles walking toward them. He resembled a lion: regal, graceful, deliberate. He also had a long mane of unruly hair, and tawny cat eyes.

Isn’t he more delish in person than he is on the big screen?

Vonni shook her head. He doesn’t look familiar to me, Delores.

Oh, darling! You need to get out more! Drake has starred in over eleven major motion pictures. And the dear boy is only thirty. Why, he’s today’s hottest new thing. All the ladies drool over him. Delores tsk-tsked again. Pity about his ex wife. What a slut.

Vonni finished her drink and set the glass on the side table. She sure was getting an education here, wasn’t she?

Ladies. Drake DeMarco tipped his head as if he was wearing a cowboy hat. His eyes gleamed like gold as he raked his gaze over Vonni. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting this fine young filly. Delores, would you introduce me?

Of course, of course. I’ll do you one even better, darling. I’ll let you have my seat. Delores stood and then performed the introductions. Drake DeMarco, this young filly is Vonni Taylor, a recent widow. And now I’ll scoot.

Wiggling her fingers in a wave, Delores left for the bar while Drake slid into the seat.

He extended his hand. Pleased to meet you, ma’am. And, uh, I’m sorry about your loss.

Thank you, Drake. Vonni completed the handshake. Nice to meet you, too.

His grip was strong. She liked men with strong hands.

For a moment they both stared at each other as if trying to figure out what to say.

He went first. What brings you to this here Privacy Island, Vonni?

Sun, sand, and solitude. She had to sigh. Although, it’s looking like solitude might be in short supply.

His laughter crinkled the skin around his eyes. Hey, I know I’m guilty of intruding, but I had to make a move first before those jackals came prowling around you. He hiked his thumb to the front where the bar was.

She smiled. I see. So, Drake, what brings you to this resort?

His grin revealed impossibly bright white teeth. Sun, sand, and solitude, he repeated.

Ah! Of course. She sighed again. Drake DeMarco must’ve been a player. Tell you what. I’ll respect your solitude if you respect mine.

He ran his large hand through that lion’s mane of his. Truthfully, what I’d rather see is us spending our solitude together.

Really? She lifted an eyebrow. You work fast, Drake.

His grin grew. When I see what I want, little lady, I go after it.

Vonni glanced up and noticed another man walking toward them. This guy had black slicked-back hair and bedroom eyes.

She swiveled her chair toward the aisle, and then stood. That’s good advice. I do want some solitude so I’m going after it. She gave him a wink. If you’ll excuse me.

Turning toward the bank of bedrooms, Vonni found hers, stepped inside, and locked the door. For some reason she felt like a fish floundering among a school of piranhas.

They’re going to eat me alive, she murmured as she sat down on her bed.

To delay the inevitable, she’d wait inside these four walls until the airship landed. Maybe she was hiding out, as Georgia had suggested. It had taken a lot of guts to leave her home in Wallace, Idaho, and go on this vacation by herself, leaving behind her bickering relatives.

Vonni had every right to escape to sun, sand, and solitude. What she didn’t need was sharks of the human variety.

* * * *

As soon as Vonni stepped out of the exit door on the hybrid airship, a blast of perfumed, sultry air enveloped her. It was such a powerful sensation, she felt as if she was being physically lifted up off her feet. The fragrant breezes lovingly caressed every inch of her, and playfully sifted through her long hair making her loose locks float on the wind. Magical! As fanciful as it sounded, she believed the island itself was welcoming her, welcoming her home.

I think I’m going to love it here, she whispered to herself.

"What you say, babushka? You speak to da wind?" One of the other passengers, an elegant woman with a mystique about her, stepped off the airship after Vonni.

Setting down a colorful canvas bag stuffed to overflowing, the woman adjusted her white-rimmed sunglasses and then patted at her lacquer-stiffened blonde-highlighted hair.

"You no mind I call you babushka, eh? Just a form of endearment. In truth it means old woman, but of course you most far from that. The passenger held out her slim hand for a shake. I go by Jean. Jean Churenka."

"Vonni Taylor. Glad to meet you, Jean. And no, of course not. Babushka sounds cute. She completed the handshake. How peaceful it is here. It’s like a little slice of heaven, isn’t it?"

Heaven, yes. My thought exactly. Jean’s voice sounded ravished as if by years of smoking, and her smile was a little mysterious. Dis place perfect. B. U. Tiful! Absolutely worth da trip.

Vonni also gazed out at this sultry paradise. The sweeping vistas of verdant green, the proud expanse of healthy palm trees, the white sandy beaches, the sparkling clear waters...

Who could ever tire of such lush, undemanding flawlessness? She sighed. Mother Nature at her finest.

"But come, babushka. We catch up with others. Jean pulled on Vonni’s arm. Dat nice man with white jacket up ahead gives out beautiful leis. And kisses! I want one. No, two!" She threw back her head and laughed.

The man in the white jacket was probably the resort’s executive manager. Norman, Delores Marchant had called him. His spiky blond hair flapping in the breeze, he looked to be a very attractive man. Right now he was plying his charm with Georgia, and Vonni could hear the woman’s loud giggles all the way back to the airship as he kissed her cheek.

Glancing at the stack of baggage unloaded and unclaimed to the side of the exit point, Vonni asked Jean, But what about our luggage?

Jean set a brisk pace. "Dis a five star, six star resort. Staff handles everything. You, all you need do is look rinkna. Pretty. Mark my words, as soon as you enter your private bungalow, your luggage it already awaits you. Dis... She tapped on her sternum above her curvy breasts. Dis I know. I Romani. You Gorgio call me Gypsy."

Oh. Ah, okay.

Shading her eyes from the sun, Vonni dug into her handbag, searching for her sunglasses. Not even on the island for ten minutes and already she longed for peace and quiet. Or in other words, her mantra of sun, sand, and solitude.

By the time she and Jean walked over to the archway where the manager waited, all the other guests but two were gone, whisked away by mini-vehicles and island staffers.

Vonni could tell Jean was chomping at the bit to have her time in the sun with Norman, so she urged Jean forward. You go ahead. I need to find something in my handbag.

So Jean stepped over to get greeted, feted, and leied--so to speak--while Vonni soaked up the languid atmosphere, readjusting to island time.

The remaining guests, both male, now made their way over to her. The first one was the slicked-back hair and bedroom eyes guy from earlier in the day. Very handsome, very sure of himself. The second one looked a bit of a sad-sack, although why anyone could look sad in paradise was a mystery, indeed.

Hey, sweetcakes. Finally we get to meet. Mr. Confident