Poolside Reconnaissance

The papaya sat untouched on the white ceramic plate, its orange flesh glistening in the harsh midday sun. Elena had ordered it because tropical fruit felt like something a woman staying alone at the Ritz-Carlton Mazatlán should eat, but now it just reminded her of everything she wasn't hungry for.

The pool deck was mostly empty—a few couples lounging under cabanas, children shrieking in the distance. But Elena noticed him immediately. The man in the navy swim trunks, pretending to read a newspaper that he'd been holding upside down for twenty minutes. She'd been a lawyer for fifteen years; she knew when someone was hiding something.

He wasn't a spy in the cinematic sense—no leather jacket, no exotic accent. He was probably a private investigator, hired by Richard to document her 'erratic behavior' during their trial separation. The thought made her laugh, bitter and sharp. Richard had always been more concerned with appearances than reality.

Elena stood up, her silk wrap fluttering in the ocean breeze. She walked deliberately toward the man, her heels clicking on the stone pavers. He flinched when she stopped at his chaise, his newspaper crinkling as he instinctively tried to shield his face.

'I assume Richard is paying you well,' she said, gesturing to the camera bag he'd poorly attempted to conceal with his towel.

The man sighed, letting the newspaper fall to his lap. 'Actually, your husband's credit card was declined. I'm working pro bono. His sister is concerned about you.'

The papaya suddenly seemed far less amusing. Elena's legs felt unsteady, and she sank onto the edge of the empty chaise beside him.

'Megan thinks I'm having a breakdown,' Elena said, more to herself than him. 'I'm just finally done pretending.'

The investigator—James, his nametag read—shrugged. 'I've been watching people for twelve years. You seem remarkably sane for someone whose marriage just imploded.'

'That's the problem,' Elena said, picking at the papaya's perfect orange flesh. 'I've never been saner. And that's what Richard can't forgive.'

James closed his notebook. 'I know a good divorce attorney. My ex-wife used hers.'

Elena laughed, genuinely this time, and for the first time in months, something tasted sweet again.