Killing in the Caribbean

by Jennifer Fischetto

  I shrugged. "A lot of physical activity."

  Barclay coughed and then cleared his throat.

  Luckily my blush hadn't completely disappeared because that made me heat up again. I knew darn well he was thinking about his proposal from earlier.

  "I love dancing," I said and quickly changed the subject. "So where are you guys staying?"

  "The Frond," Whitney said. "It's the oldest or one of the oldest hotels on the island."

  Barclay said, "A luxury hotel, and we are staying in the penthouse."

  Finley chuckled. "It's hardly a penthouse. Just a few big rooms on the fifth floor."

  Barclay's forehead creased with a flash of a frown. I assumed he disagreed with his friend.

  "What does everyone do?" Cady asked.

  "I'm a self-made man," Barclay said with an air of arrogance. He sipped his drink and dotted the corners of his mouth with a brown paper napkin.

  What did that mean? Instead of pushing, I looked across the table to Greer and Mimi.

  Greer took a bite of his cutter and kept his gaze on Barclay. It looked like he simply didn't want to answer the question. Maybe his mind was elsewhere and he hadn't heard Cady. But the longer he stared, the harder it became until it looked like he was glaring.

  Mimi patted his hand and said to us, "I'm an assistant art director at a local gallery, and Greer is a financial analyst. I don't understand what he does. He tries to explain it, but it's so confusing. Right, baby?"

  Her laughter was feathery and probably meant to disarm the tension dancing around our group, but it didn't work. Greer continued to glare while finishing his meal.

  We fell into silence for several heartbeats before Greer motioned to Aiden for another drink.

  I looked to Cady, who shrugged, and returned my attention to the rest of my food. At this point, I planned on eating, paying for my meal, and then spending the rest of the day with Cady and the island. The beach Finley had mentioned earlier seemed like a good way to spend the rest of today.

  Aiden was taking our empty plates away when Cady leaned toward me and whispered, "Look who's here."

  I followed her gaze and saw a tall man in light brown cargo shorts, a red T-shirt, and flip-flops. It took me a second to realize it was Dr. Bishop in street clothes.

  I didn't think, just stood and waved. "Dr. Bishop."

  He smiled at me, and that was when my body began acting all shaky and schoolgirlish. He walked over and nodded to everyone. "Hello. I hadn't realized you two knew people on the island."

  "Oh, we don't. We all met this morning. Fellow Americans on vacation," Cady said.

  I made introductions, and when I got to Barclay, he gave the doctor the stink eye.

  Cady pointed to the chair beside me. "Won't you join us?"

  The reunion members didn't protest. Not that they had any reason to. We were all fed, liquored up, and feeling pretty good. Well, most of us. Greer was no longer staring Barclay down, but he still seemed to be elsewhere and not with us.

  "I can't stay long. Just a club soda for me. My next shift begins in ninety minutes." Dr. Bishop sat down and leaned toward me. Heat radiated off the man, and I shut my eyes to breathe in his clean soap scent. This guy was delicious in all senses.

  "Please call me Shawn," he said.

  I flinched, opened my eyes, and stared into his, losing my voice. I smiled, nodded, and hoped I could speak when it mattered.

  "How did you know we were here?" Cady asked.

  Dr. Bi… Shawn said, "I overheard the two of you mentioning this place yesterday. I wasn't sure if you'd be here, but I figured I'd check it out. You made it sound very inviting."

  Cady beamed, and the corners of Aiden's mouth rose.

  "Nothing like a walking, talking, beautiful advertisement," Aiden said and placed a clear, bubbly beverage with ice and a lime wedge in front of Shawn.

  "So, you're a doctor on the ship?" Whitney asked. "What's that like?"

  "Do you just give out Band-Aids?" Barclay asked with a lopsided grin.

  "No, I don't. Aside from the usual cases of stomach viruses and allergies, we provide full services. We've seen everything from nausea to full-blown heart attacks."

  "Oh wow, that's awful," Mimi said. "One minute you're having fun on a cruise, and the next…" She didn't complete her thought, and a quick wave of silence washed over the table.

  But just as fast, Finley raised his glass and said, "To all of the healthy vacationers."

  It was an odd toast, but when there was liquor, people didn't seem to care what the reason was to drink more.

  "You look vaguely familiar. Have we met before?" Shawn asked Finley.

  Whitney laid her hand on Finley's arm. "He's running for City Councilman in our home state. Illinois."

  Wow, so the JFK reference was spot on.

  Shawn nodded. "That's where I've seen your face. On a campaign poster or something. My sister lives in Antioch."

  "That's a part of my district," Finley said. "Do you know who she's voting for?"

  He and Whitney chuckled. The humor was lost on the rest of us.

  "No, I don't, but I'm curious."

  "Well tell her to vote for Finley." Whitney squeezed her fiancé's arm.

  Shawn nodded and softly laughed, never actually promising to do so. I admired that.

  Barclay stood up and patted his pants pocket while staring at me. "I need to go shoot up."

  After he walked off, Shawn asked, "What's that about?"

  I shook my head, not wanting to discuss it here. "Nothing."

  Shawn sipped the last of his drink and pushed his chair back. "I should get going. Want to clear my head and settle in. I'll see you both tomorrow?"

  "Absolutely." One simple word, and I didn't screw it up. That was twice in a row. Maybe I needed to resort to one-word sentences around him from now on.

  He stood and said good-bye to everyone except Barclay, but I was certain the one presently injecting insulin into his body wouldn't care.

  Shawn went to the bar and paid Aiden for his drink, and I watched him walk out. It was a shame he had to leave, although I did enjoy watching him go.

  Cady gently elbowed me in the ribs. "You want him so bad."

  I couldn't help but chuckle. Mimi had overheard her, and soon the three of us were laughing.

  Barclay exited the bathroom and quirked a brow at the empty seat next to me. "Did the good doctor leave? Pity."

  I inwardly rolled my eyes at the sarcasm in his tone.

  He walked to the bar, ordered another drink, and returned.

  Cady stood, ready to sit at the bar and spend some time closer to Aiden, when a strange thunk sounded from the head of the table.

  We all turned and looked at Barclay's chair, but it was empty.

  Whitney gasped, and her eyes widened. She was looking down.

  I rose and realized Barclay had fallen to the hardwood floor.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gasps and cries of concern filtered out to the other customers.

  I ran around the table, ordered Cady to run out and see if Shawn was still in the area, yelled for Aiden to call 9-1-1—or whatever the equivalent was in Barbados—and knelt beside Barclay. He was on his side and stiff, as if he was paralyzed. His eyes were open, but it didn't look like he was breathing.

  His friends surrounded us, shouting out things we'd heard but weren't sure were true—like raise his head, don't move him, hold down his tongue.

  All of it washed over me. His lips were turning blue. This didn't feel like a seizure so much as he wasn't getting enough oxygen. Heimlich? I started to suggest that when Mimi kneeled beside me and leaned down to look into his mouth.

  "Do you see something?" I asked.

  Cady and Shawn ran through the doors and over to us. They were panting.

  I eagerly scooted out of Shawn's way as he knelt beside Barclay and checked his airway.

  Mimi shook her head and looked almost as pale as Barclay. She jumped back, whispered, "I don't know," and r
ejoined the others.

  Aiden rushed over. "Help is on the way."

  Shawn sighed and leaned back on his heels. "It's too late. He's dead."

  All of his friends took a step back, as if death was contagious.

  I stared into Shawn's eyes, and tears caused my vision to blur. Dead? This was all kinds of wrong.

  Images of another dead man jumped to the forefront of my mind. Back home in Queens. The real reason I became a dancer for Voyage Cruise Line.

  By the time the police arrived, all of the customers, except for us, had left. I mean, who wanted to eat dinner and drink around a corpse?

  The rest of us were seated farthest away from the body, huddled around a couple of tables.

  Two dark-skinned, uniformed officers entered the bar. The slightly taller and definitely older one took in the room and then immediately went to Barclay's body. He checked for signs of life, and when he found none, he loudly said, "I am Sergeant Gabriel Clarke, and this is Constable Daryl Newton from the Royal Barbados Police Force."

  Sergeant Clarke asked Shawn, "Who are you, sir, and why are you touching this man?"

  "Dr. Shawn Bishop. I'm one of the general practitioners for Voyage Cruise Line. I was here with a couple of friends shortly before this man collapsed. It may have been an allergic reaction to something he ingested."

  "You saw this happen?" the sergeant asked.

  "No, sorry. I had left, and I was called back after he collapsed."

  Sergeant Clarke looked to each of us. "And all of you were here when it happened?"

  We all nodded, none uttering a single syllable.

  "We will be speaking to each of you, so please do not leave." He turned to Shawn. "Thank you, Doctor, but we will take it from here."

  "Of course. I need to get back to the ship anyway."

  "Is it pulling out to sea soon?" Clarke asked.

  "Not for another two days."

  "Please leave your contact information with the constable so we may contact you if needed."

  "Very well." Shawn scribbled something into the younger officer's black book and glanced to me. He gave a single nod and walked out.

  The sergeant turned to Aiden next. "Was anyone else here when this happened?"

  "Yes, there were seven other tables, but they all paid and left right away."

  "How did they pay?" He stepped to the body and bent down.

  "Three of them paid with currency. The other four paid by credit card."

  "Good. We will need their names, please."

  "Of course." Aiden rushed behind the bar.

  The constable joined his partner, and the two inspected Barclay's body without touching it with anything more than a couple of pens. If I wasn't so freaked out about Barclay's death, it would've been fascinating to watch. I'd been a bit of a true crime fan when I lived at home. I enjoyed the process of how the police collected and analyzed evidence and how that led to solving cases.

  Barclay was dead.

  How was this even possible? He'd been so vibrant and alive just minutes before.

  Eventually the medical examiner showed, and while he did his thing, the police split us up, asking us to sit at separate tables, and started questioning us. From where they began in the room, it looked like Cady and I would be the last.

  She sat at the bar beside Aiden, and they held hands. I couldn't help thinking about how this may have changed the possibility of Aiden proposing.

  The police spoke with Whitney and Mimi first. I watched the women's reactions to the questions, while also observing how the medical examiner and another man, perhaps his assistant, wrapped Barclay's body into a black bag and transported him out of the bar.

  A hushed sigh of relief fell from his friends, as if Barclay no longer being there made them feel better. I agreed it was hard to stare at his lifeless form, but them taking him away made it more final. Not that I expected him to suddenly wake up and ask for another drink. It would've been nice though.

  Whitney's shoulders shook, and soon her cries were audible across the room. They grew stronger and stronger until she jumped up from her chair and ran into the bathroom.

  The constable, who had been talking to her, ran his fingers over his dark brown curls and looked uncomfortable.

  The sergeant finished with Mimi and sat with Greer.

  "How did you know him?" the sergeant asked.

  Whitney returned to the dining room, and Finley went to her and wrapped her in a big hug. I could use one of those right now, something to settle my nerves. I contemplated getting another drink.

  "Can we leave? My fiancée is very upset," Finley said.

  The sergeant stopped speaking and looked over. "She may leave, but we haven't questioned you yet."

  "It's fine," Whitney said and patted Finley's hand, which rested on her cheek. "Go sit down. It won't be much longer."

  They returned to their previous seats, and the constable sat with Finley.

  Part of me wished I could hear what they were saying so I had something to keep my mind distracted. We'd all been dining in the same room. We all had the same story to tell.

  Another fifteen minutes went by before they were done speaking with the men, and the four friends got up to leave.

  The sergeant asked, "When is your flight home?"

  "The day after tomorrow," Finley said.

  "You'll likely need to cancel your reservations. Just until we confirm how your friend died."

  Greer scoffed. "We can't put our flights on hold. They aren't refundable."

  "I'm sorry for any inconvenience, but your friend is dead," the sergeant said.

  None of them responded. Whitney lowered her head and softly began to cry again.

  "We'll change them," Finley said and pulled Whitney closer to him.

  Without another word from the police, the four of them turned and walked out.

  The sergeant watched them go and then walked to my table while the constable went to the bar. Before sitting down, the sergeant said, "I will question Mr. Griffith, Dylan. You just speak with the woman."

  The constable nodded, and Aiden stepped away from Cady.

  "Hello. I am Sergeant Gabriel Clarke, and what is your name?"

  I cleared my throat and debated which name to give him. The one on my passport or the one I currently preferred. "Zibby Foster."

  His half smile was gentle and comforting. He wasn't coming across as gruff as he had while I watched him with the others. "You were a part of the deceased's dinner party tonight, yes?"

  "Yes. We all ate together."

  "How long have you known him? Were you college friends as well?"

  "No. We only met this afternoon during this meal."

  The sergeant looked up from his scribbling. "Oh? Do tell how that happened."

  I pointed to Cady. "My friend and I are entertainers for Voyage Cruise Line. Our ship got into port today, and we came here."

  "Why did you choose this bar?" he asked, interrupting me.

  "Cady and Aiden are dating, and she hasn't been here since before he opened it."

  He scribbled in his book. "I see. Please go on."

  "Barclay and his friends were here when we arrived. I think we connected because we were fellow Americans, and that's why Barclay invited us to hang out with them."

  I filled him in on our lunch, things the group discussed, and Barclay inviting Cady and me to tag along with them tomorrow to see more sights.

  "Did you see anything unusual this afternoon?" he asked.

  "No. We drank and ate. We talked. Shawn, um, Dr. Bishop, arrived, and we drank some more. Barclay went to the bathroom to 'shoot up'…" I made air quotes with my fingers.

  "I'm sorry. To what?" the sergeant interrupted me.

  "Oh, he was diabetic, and I walked in on him testing his blood sugar before our meals. He made a joke about shooting up. When he returned from the bathroom, he ordered another drink and then collapsed."

  "So he drank something prior to falling down. Do you know what it was?
"

  I shrugged. "I didn't see him drink it, but he may have. It was something clear and a little bubbly."

  He looked over my shoulder and stared. I didn't want to turn and seem nosy, but my guess was that he was looking at Aiden.

  "You and your friend will be in port for two more days, like Dr. Bishop?" he asked me.

  "Yes."

  "Great." He flipped a page and turned his book around to me. "Please write down your name and phone number in case we have more questions."

  "Of course." I took his pen and added my information below Mimi Janson's and Greer Rawlings'.

  He took his book and pen and stood up. "Thank you for your time, Miss Foster."

  I watched him walk over to Aiden at the same time the constable was done speaking with Cady. She pointed toward the restroom and walked off.

  I kept my back to the police and Aiden but listened intently. There was something about the way the sergeant acted toward Aiden that pricked at my radar.

  "The bar is a crime scene now," the sergeant said.

  Aiden scoffed. "You heard the doc. He was probably allergic to something. That's not a crime."

  "Something you served him perhaps."

  "Hey, that's not my fault. People need to know their own ailments. He didn't say he'd have any reactions to anything, and he didn't ask how any of the items were cooked. Besides, he…"

  I couldn't make out the last thing Aiden said or the sergeant's mumbled reply.

  More indistinguishable words were spoken, and then the sergeant told Aiden he'd need to leave. They needed to gather evidence.

  Cady returned from the bathroom and looked to me and then Aiden.

  I stood up and walked over to her. "We should go."

  She nodded but kept staring at Aiden. "I need to say bye."

  My heart went out to her. This was not how today was supposed to go.

  She started to walk to him and said, "I'll call you."

  He didn't respond.

  She stopped short. "See you later."

  To that he nodded. He looked like he'd just lost everything. Surely the police would discover Barclay's death was some kind of accident and Aiden would go back to serving drinks and macaroni pie right away.

  Cady grabbed my hand and gave it a quick squeeze as we stepped outside. "I feel so bad. For Aiden. For Barclay. And his friends."