Killing in the Caribbean

by Jennifer Fischetto

  The sun blinded me for a moment, and I had to shut my eyes. "Me too. I can't believe this happened."

  We stood by the bar and didn't move. What were we supposed to do now? There were still hours of daylight, but we couldn't go sightseeing after this. It felt wrong, and I doubted I'd be able to concentrate on anything around us.

  "Let's go home," I said and started walking back to the ship.

  Cady hesitated though. She stared at Ocean Grille.

  "You can't help him right now," I said. "Call him in an hour and see how he's doing, but he needs to focus on his business at this moment. I'm sorry."

  She nodded, although she didn't look convinced, and we returned to Athena.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When we stepped on board, we headed straight down to our cabins, stopping for no one and nothing. Cady hadn't said a word on the walk back. I asked her how she was and received a shrug. Then I drifted into my own world and thought about calling home.

  Cady pushed her key card into her lock, and it beeped. I knew this whole thing had rattled her, but I didn't want her to disappear into her room without a word.

  "I'm a little worried about you," I said.

  She looked over with widened eyes and raised brows. "Don't be. I'll be fine. I'm just concerned about Aiden. That bar is everything to him, and if it's shut down for long, he'll lose precious income."

  "Maybe it won't be that bad. The police will gather their evidence, Aiden will be able to open tomorrow, and then the police will realize Barclay was allergic to something. Totally not Aiden's fault. Barclay may not have even known. You can suddenly get allergies at any age."

  She bit her lower lip. "That's true."

  "Do you still want to go sightseeing tomorrow?" I asked. I'd understand if she said no, but I was hoping otherwise. It felt selfish to think about enjoying our time here though.

  "Yes. I don't want today to ruin the next two days. I'm going to take a nap now and probably catch up with Aiden later. Is that okay? Will you be all right on your own?"

  I laughed, which felt weird and great. "I'll be fine. If you need me, you know where I live."

  She smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Zibby."

  Being next door neighbors contributed to us becoming fast and furious BFFs. We both enjoyed midnight strolls along the deck and raiding the staff freezer for ice cream. On my fourth night on board, we'd run into each other as we'd entered this corridor at the same time, sneaking out of our rooms. One look at the surprised expression on her face had told me she'd been up to something. Not that we couldn't roam the ship when we weren't working. But the rest of the cast had been long asleep, storing up energy for that early alarm, and we acted like it was the middle of the day with our bowls of frozen delight while watching the skyline melt into the water.

  I entered my room and leaned against my shut door.

  Barclay was dead.

  How many times was I going to repeat that before it fully sank in? And I barely knew the guy. I couldn't imagine what his friends were going through.

  I strung my purse up on a hook and moved to the single chair beside a small, narrow table, which was part nightstand, part dining table, part junk collector. I'd made a choice to not buy too many items. Storage was limited. But things quickly accumulated. Right now, my small basket of toiletries, my dream journal, and an individual packet of saltines with a tiny jar of Nutella for those late-night snacks were on the cramped space.

  My twin-sized bed sat on the other side of the table. I'd purchased an eggplant-colored comforter and lavender sheets, and the deep color always looked cozy against the light walls. Maybe I'd follow Cady and take a nap as well. Before I truly considered it though, I knew I needed to do an important thing first.

  Find out if the other dead body had been located yet.

  I opened the armoire beside the foot of my bed and reached inside the front pocket of my luggage bag to pull out the black burner phone that I'd picked up right before leaving the States.

  I stepped into the tiny bathroom and sat on the toilet lid, crammed between the sink and shower stall. I dialed the only number I called from this phone and pressed it to my ear. The call connected on the other side, and the first ring sounded. I mumbled a quick thanks it went through and tapped my wedged sandal against the floor, waiting for Kyle to answer.

  Whoever said staff member quarters were small had not been exaggerating. In order to shave my legs in the shower, I often propped my foot on the toilet lid. I couldn't complain though. Living and working on the Athena was hard work and exhausting, but it was also fun and sometimes glamorous. Plus, the number one perk of being part of Voyage Cruise Line had been leaving New York to protect Mom and Timmy and no longer wondering when the Esposito crime family was going to fit me for cement shoes.

  The line trilled a fourth time, and finally Kyle answered. "Agent Doyle."

  "Hey, it's me," I whispered. I doubted Cady could hear me from her room, but since it was a cloak and dagger type of moment, the hushed tone felt necessary.

  Movement shuffled around on his end, and I heard the soft click of a door. "Liz, I haven't heard from you in days. Are you okay?" he hoarsely whispered in my ear.

  For a second, I startled. In almost a year, he was the only person who had called me Liz. Even though my employment records and passport were in my legal name—Elizabeth Foster—everyone on the ship called me by my new nickname, Zibby. I told myself it was my stage name, but in truth, I wanted to put as much distance as possible between Zibby Foster and Liz Foster. Too bad I couldn't secretly change my last name. Luckily it was common enough.

  "I'm fine. We got into port earlier today, and sometimes calls don't go through in the middle of the Atlantic." This was true, but I didn't add how I hadn't wanted to call before. Sometimes I liked escaping the dreadful reality waiting for me back home by immersing myself in the music, the lively people, and the open seas. Living on this ship meant there was a party, in some way, every day. People were always happy and looking to share their joy with others. Okay, so there was the awful combination of too much booze and sun, or someone who'd get sick because they couldn't get their sea legs, but those were few and far between.

  Now though, after seeing another dead person, I wanted to hear about my family and how they were doing. I couldn't call them myself. I didn't want anyone to be able to track me, so I went through Kyle. Not just because he was an FBI agent, but in high school, he had been my boyfriend. We'd made plans for a future together. I had been foolish to believe we'd remain a couple after going to different colleges in different states. We hadn't even made it past freshman spring break when I'd learned he was dating someone new.

  I'd been devastated and never wanted to see him again. If my brother Timmy hadn't gotten involved with the Espositos over some gambling debts, I hadn't witnessed that murder, and the mobsters hadn't tried to kill my mother in an attempt to keep me quiet, I never would've looked Kyle up. He'd said it was fate. I'd refused to believe fate wanted me to see a man getting whacked. Literally. With an axe. I still had nightmares.

  "How are Mom and Timmy?" I asked.

  "They're fine. They miss you," he said.

  My chest squeezed. I missed them so much that I thought the sadness would cripple me.

  "Any news on the axed man?" I asked and crossed the fingers on my left hand.

  "Not yet, but don't worry," Kyle said. "We'll eventually connect Frankie Esposito to some crime we can prove. Then it'll be okay for you to return."

  That was the plan. I wished I knew how long "eventually" would be though. We'd both thought it would have been sooner than the eight months that had already passed. Frankie was notorious for being involved with drugs, barely legal girls, and fast cars. How very cliché of him.

  The man I'd witnessed him kill hadn't been found, which had made my going to the police a "he said, she said" tale. The cops had wanted to pin something on him so badly, and the DA had felt I was credible enough that they started an investigation. But they hadn'
t anticipated Frankie's next move.

  One night, I'd received a frantic call from Mom telling me to get to the hospital where she worked as a duty nurse. I'd raced there and found her standing in the parking garage by her car. She'd been holding a piece of paper that she'd found under her windshield wiper. It had a drawing of a bull's-eye and said You're Next in block letters.

  We'd both known what it meant. The next day I'd called Kyle. I'd told the cops I suddenly didn't remember anything, and in less than a week, I'd disappeared. Everyone believed I'd taken a job on the West Coast, including Mom and Timmy. It was safer for them that way. Occasionally I sent smiling selfies through Kyle to pass along. They were always taken in this very bathroom so if they got out, no one could spot anything identifiable in the background that could lead them to me.

  I stood up and glanced at myself in the mirror above the sink. My dark curly bob pushed back by a wide navy headband, cat eyeliner, and fuchsia "eat-proof" lipstick could have been associated with words like happy, jovial, and confident, but I felt the opposite. I should've known calling wouldn't make me feel better.

  "Thanks, Kyle. I owe you one."

  "Nah, I agreed to this because I owed you. Plus, we're friends, right? And friends help each other."

  This wasn't an official case. So far, the FBI hadn't been able to get involved in low-level Frankie Esposito, and the murder was strictly the local police's business. Kyle felt he owed me because we'd broken up due to his wandering tongue ten years ago. It was too long ago to hold grudges, but if it made him feel better to think he was paying me back, so be it.

  "I'll be in touch as soon as I can," I said. I almost told him about Barclay's death, but I didn't want him to worry over nothing.

  "Okay. Be safe and have fun. You're living the dream life."

  We hung up, and I turned off the phone and stared at the tiny bathroom.

  "Yeah, this is a dream."

  I was grateful though. I could've been a crew member, cleaning guest rooms or doing laundry every day. Kyle had an ex who was a cruise director, and she'd helped me land this gig as a dancer in the cast. Maybe his wandering tongue had been a good thing after all.

  I left the cubicle-sized bathroom, entered the only slightly bigger bedroom, and hid the phone again.

  I wasn't sure what to do now. It wasn't normal to have an entire day off. When we weren't performing, we had costume fittings and rehearsals. Lots and lots of rehearsals. Our next one was scheduled for our last day in port.

  Maybe resting was a good idea.

  I lay on top of my comforter, pressed my cheek to my cool pillow, and shut my eyes.

  When they opened, I was chilled and needed to use the bathroom. How long had I dozed off for? I pulled my Galaxy Smartphone from my purse and blinked at the time. Well past dinner, which was why my stomach was growling as well. I could grab a bite in the crew mess hall, but there was no way I wanted to spend the rest of the night in my room or on the boat. Not when we were in port.

  I used the bathroom, freshened up, grabbed my purse, and headed up deck. I wasn't sure about the crime rate in Barbados or if walking around alone was safe, but it couldn't be bad to visit the Bridgetown Cruise Terminal. It was a good time to check out those stamps. If they were still open.

  But before I made it off the ship, I ran into several cast members.

  Kim, a fellow dancer, grinned wide when she saw me. She was tall, naturally thin, and had the longest light auburn hair. We both had thick curls, but while mine was a breath above my shoulders, Kim's extended to her waist. It was a rare occasion she left it down and not put up in a bun.

  "Zibby, come join us," she said.

  I glanced to the other members, who all seemed eager to leave, and asked, "Where are you going?"

  "There's a new nightclub that we want to check out."

  I wasn't sure if I wanted to spend the night around a lot of people, but dancing away this weird energy in me sounded like a great idea. "I'm in."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lagoon Blue sat directly on the beach, on the other side of the island. It was a half an hour drive by cab, which we all pitched in for. By the time we arrived, the sun had set, and the night sky looked like dark blue velvet with tiny white dots.

  It was an open bar with outdoor tables, a makeshift dance floor, and a barbecue pit with ribs, chicken, and steak sizzling away. The aroma was heavenly, especially mixed with the warm salty ocean breeze.

  This wasn't exactly what I thought of when Kim said nightclub. I'd pictured an indoor warehouse type place with neon flashing lights, sweaty bodies, and pulsating beats. The music was definitely fast and made my body want to move, and it was so crowded that I couldn't see past the people surrounding me.

  A few of my cast members went to the bar while the others grabbed a table. There were seven of us, and the picnic tables held an easy eight. I'd considered texting Cady before we left, but I knew she wanted to be with Aiden. I, however, didn't want to sit in a large group. Flashbacks of lunch made my skin itchy.

  "I'm going to walk around for a bit. Order without me. I'll catch up," I shouted to Kim as she settled at the table.

  "Are you sure?" she asked.

  I nodded, offered a smile for reassurance, and headed toward the food. I needed to eat something, and I didn't care if I had to do it standing up. I couldn't stomach the idea of having another meal full of small talk. I probably should've thought of this prior to leaving the ship, but I was so glad to get on land that I hadn't given it much thought.

  I slowly inched through the crowd and stood in line, ready to purchase a plate of barbecue chicken with rice and peas. Everything looked so good, and I was curious about the cou-cou and flying fish, but I wanted to keep it simple in case my jittery stomach couldn't handle it. There were two lines, and they were long, but the food was dished up fast.

  I was halfway to the front when I saw someone reach for their plate. Not just someone but a bare male arm with black fingerless gloves.

  Greer.

  Why were they here and not crying in their hotel rooms?

  I instinctively moved back and stepped on the foot of the person behind me.

  "Ow," a female voice shrieked. "Watch where you're going."

  Everyone glanced our way, and I ducked. I wasn't sure why, but my gut screamed at me to not have Barclay's friends see me.

  I inched back out of the crowd, whispering "excuse me" while walking in a crouched position. People either thought I was crazy or had a severe back problem.

  Hiding was silly. What was the big deal? So we ended up at the same place for dinner. Sure, they drove or took a cab thirty minutes away from their hotel when they could've ordered room service. Perhaps this place was on their to-do list. And Barclay's death didn't put a crimp in that?

  I moved away from the crowd, closer to the water, and stood by a sand dune, trying to hide but to catch my bearings. I needed to tell Kim I was going on ahead and getting a cab back to the ship. It had been foolish of me to come out. I should've just stayed in bed.

  As I stood, I spotted Greer up ahead. He walked to a table with his plate and sat alone. The others were probably still in line. But a couple minutes later, no one joined him. Now this was weird. Why go thirty minutes out of your way to eat by yourself? A close friend just died. And why was he smiling at that woman passing his table?

  Even though he didn't look too distraught, maybe he needed to get away and be on his own for a bit. Barclay's room was probably next to his, and Mimi was likely crying. A few minutes by himself to clear his head seemed appropriate. Besides, everyone grieved differently.

  This was none of my business.

  I pulled out my phone, texted Kim that I'd see her back on the ship, and skirted around the nightclub to get to the road. I didn't want Greer to see me. He deserved some peace of mind, and I'd only be a reminder.

  The sand slowed me down, and part of me wanted to sit on it and stare at the water, but I also wanted to get back to the ship. I made it to the fron
t side of Lagoon Blue and started to call for a cab when I noticed two of them idling on the street. I raised my arm, used to having to wave them down in New York, and watched the back of a man leaning into the passenger window of one of them. He looked vaguely familiar.

  He stood up, said something to the driver, chuckled, and turned my way.

  It was Aiden.

  Was Cady here?

  I scanned the immediate area, but I didn't see her.

  I sent her a text:

  Are you okay? Where are you?

  Then I stepped back and tried to blend into the bright blue painted wall of the bar. Thankfully there were just enough people loitering around that I wasn't the only person there.

  Aiden just stood there, as if he was waiting for someone to arrive. Perhaps Cady was in the bathroom and he was waiting for her before they left.

  My phone vibrated.

  Fine. In my room. Aiden's busy. Hope he's all right. Going back to sleep.

  So he and Greer were both here alone. Was there any chance they were here together?

  No, that was weird, although possible. I didn't know either of them.

  Again. None of my business. I had no right spying on people. The last time I did that, my life changed.

  Mom had just admitted that Timmy had borrowed a stupid amount of money from Frankie Esposito a couple of months earlier, and he didn't have that week's payment. I'd known my brother loved to gamble. I hadn't known he was in over his head. Mom had said that Timmy was headed over to Frankie's chop shop to make a deal or plead for his knees. I, having seen one too many Mafia shows, had raced after him, hoping to convince Frankie to give Timmy a little more time. In hindsight, I was a protective older sister who didn't have a clue what I was doing, but at the time, it had made sense.

  When I'd arrived, I'd come upon Frankie yelling at some man about something as they walked around the building to the junkyard out back. I'd followed and rounded an old Honda with a hollowed-out trunk as I'd seen the glint of the axe above Frankie's head, and then the man had crumbled to the ground, blood streaming down his face. I'd gasped and flown behind a car. I didn't recall much after that other than eventually racing to my car and speeding away. I'd gone straight to the cops, but it hadn't done any good. By the time they'd arrived, the man was gone, and as it turned out, Timmy had stopped at a bar for liquid courage and wasn't even there.