Second Honeymoon
By Jen Cole
Copyright 2012 Jen Cole
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CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
About the Author
Chapter 1
Martin woke to his wife’s voice. Observing through semi-closed lids that she was up and dressed, he used the veil of his eyelashes to superimpose a favorite actress. Eileen wasn’t hideously ugly, but her paper-white, massively freckled skin was far from beautiful, and she’d never been curvy enough for his taste.
“… off to the market,” she was saying. “Just a quick toe-dip into the native culture.”
Sharpening the features of the actress, he murmured, “Didn’t they say when we arrived that we should use a local guide?”
“Hotels always want you to spend more.” She leant over and brushed his lips with a kiss. “I’m not going far. According to the brochure, the market’s practically on the doorstep.”
Martin reluctantly banished the actress and opened his eyes. “If you say so, my darling.” He remembered to give her a smile, which she returned as she headed for the door.
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes, forty at the most, and then we can plan our day.”
He reached for the room service menu. “Enjoy. My first foray into the culture will be a Keggan breakfast banquet.”
As the latch clicked he sighed. This planet-hopping holiday wasn’t working out the way he’d hoped. Knowing he couldn’t kill Eileen on Earth where too many friends and relatives would demand a full investigation, he’d finally persuaded her to take a second honeymoon. Unfortunately extraterrestrial locations had their own unique difficulties when it came to engineering an undetectable murder and now they were on Keggar, the last planet on their list. If he couldn’t find an opportunity here… He shuddered. A year of marriage to Eileen had been more than enough.
He had imagined he’d be set up for life. She’d inherited an unexpected fortune and had little experience or knowledge of those who hunt such things. He was first on the scene and had swept her away. He’d even insisted on a pre-nup, protecting her fortune in case of divorce. Her love, he explained, was all he ever wanted. After that she’d gently put aside the advice of friends and relatives, believing their warnings to be based in the understandable jealously of a girl with neither beauty nor prospects who suddenly gains wealth and a dashing husband.
The trouble, Martin discovered, was that money didn’t change Eileen. She continued to invest ridiculous amounts of time and emotion in others. Their honeymoon on Aquabar, a planetary jewel of Rigel, should have seen them lazing by blue lagoons while natives smiled, massaged and brought exotic drinks. But all she saw were the protruding ribs of the little green creatures and the way in which their huge eyes moistened as they presented her with bowls of luscious fruit. What kind of honeymoon is it when the bride keeps leaving your hedonistic resort to carry food to a shantytown?
Back home the pattern had continued. He’d wanted to buy a mansion in the best part of town. She’d gently chided that their modest house was fine. Better the money be spent on much needed resources for local schools and to set up a luxury camp for underprivileged children.
If only his wife had been as generous to him as she was to everyone else, he’d have been happy to let her do what she liked while he wallowed in opulence and visited lovers secreted about the town. But no, Eileen imagined they had a duty, and that he enjoyed helping her in the soup kitchens. He was forced to watch her money flow out to the unwashed masses while the pitiful allowance she gave him reduced his dream of supporting a string of mistresses to grabbing an occasional quickie with a waitress in a sleazy motel.
Her friends and relatives were constantly around, crying on her shoulder about their petty troubles and she always had time for them. But energies need renewing, and a year after their marriage, he’d come home one afternoon to find her on the couch, shoulders slumped, gazing at a picture of a cousin’s new baby.
As he entered she’d looked up at him with a tremulous smile. He knew she was desperate for a baby of her own but that wouldn’t happen as long as he had his secret contraceptive implant. No brat was muscling in on his inheritance.
Having caught her on a low, he’d pushed his advantage, implying stress was the reason for the lack of children.
“What we need is a second honeymoon,” he’d said. “Nothing but relaxation and loving. It’s a no brainer. You’ll come home pregnant.”
She’d finally agreed to the holiday on condition they eschewed luxury planets for the more interesting ones off the beaten track. Martin had nodded and smiled. That suited him fine.
Last night they’d arrived on Keggar, stepping straight from the matter transfer booth into the hotel lobby. To prevent tourists overwhelming alien cultures, Earth Federation allowed only one transfer station per planet, so the booth’s location inside the sole hotel was hardly surprising. Keggar was the farthest human-accessible outpost. Astronauts had first jumped to the closest planet with a transfer station and then traveled by rocket in cold sleep for thirty years to reach Keggar. Consequently the toll attached to the transfer booth they’d set up was so high that a single hotel catered amply for the few visitors able to pay it.
Martin picked through the delicacies in the breakfast banquet, noticing that Eileen’s thirty minutes was stretching to an hour and then two and then three. Just as he’d begun to hope his wife, on examining some lethal artifact in the marketplace had harpooned herself, she appeared, blowing back sweaty strands of hair and holding aloft a soft pouch. Untying it, she spilled the contents--misshapen marbles, onto the bed for his perusal.
“The Keggans are brilliant artisans but completely insane,” she said. “Look at this spectacular glasswork. These beads will make gorgeous bracelets for my nieces.”
Martin frowned at their swirling opalescence. “You took all morning just to buy a few baubles?”
Eileen laughed. “That’s where the insanity comes in. We’ve been to what, fifteen planets? I’ve never seen a culture like the Keggans’.”
“Oh?” He proffered a plate of native nut biscuits he hadn’t cared for.
She took one. “They don’t seem to have any rules or regulations.”
His attention sharpened. “How is that possible?”
Eileen nibbled at the biscuit, pulled a face and dropped it into the waste paper bin. “I have absolutely no idea. I don’t understand how their society can work. It would drive me crazy trying to live in a world like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know how the brochure said the market was on the hotel’s doorstep? It literally was. When I stepped out, the day’s stalls were already being erected but no one was organizing anything – it was complete chaos. Tents and displays were going up all over the place. I had to weave in and out of Keggans hammering in pegs. Oh, Martin, they’re so cute. They remind me of meerkats, though larger of course as they reach my shoulder when standing upright. Their craftsmanship is stunning, but since I’d promised to be back in thirty minutes, I settled for buying the glass teardrops and called it quits.”
“You were gone over three hours,” he said.
“I know. When I turned to come back, new stalls were blocking the path. I couldn’t squeeze between the tents as my translator b
rooch warned that touching them was considered offensive.”
She shook her head. “Madness. Why set up booths in a way that doesn’t let buyers get to them? All I could do was weave through the odd bits of free space until I reached the end of the market, and then start circling back to the rear of the hotel. That meant walking through residential areas, and you won’t believe this – their housing is almost as chaotic! It’s taken me all this time to get here.”
She flopped into a chair. “No way am I venturing out there again without a local guide.”
Martin composed his expression into one of concern. “You poor thing.” He walked over and kissed her sweaty forehead, continuing behind her chair so she wouldn’t see him wipe his mouth. He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Sit and relax for a while. I’ll go order some lunch and talk to the concierge about getting us a guide this afternoon.”
Eileen smiled as he came back into view. “You’re a godsend, Martin.”
On his way to the lobby, he began planning. If the Keggans weren’t prepared to impose order on either their marketplace or their housing, could one assume they weren’t keen on laws in general or law enforcement? If so, this planet would be the ideal place for fatal accidents. Martin suppressed the surge of hope. He needed more information. At the reception desk he found the human concierge.
“I hope you’re enjoying your stay with us, Mr. Ansteed,” said the man.
“It hasn’t been the best so far,” Martin replied. “My wife had a most unpleasant experience in the market this morning.”