by A R Kennedy
“See, honey, you did get to use them on the trip,” Jack told her as he pushed Zonah into one of the armchairs.
“Not the way I wanted to…” Geri answered.
“Oh no,” I mumbled.
Jack laughed and signaled to Colin. He stood by the prisoner, Zonah, while Jack came over to me. “Rookie, Rookie, Rookie, you’re a rookie in a lot of areas, aren’t you?”
“Shut up, Jack.” I took his hand and stood up from the floor. I sighed and looked at the trio. “Secrets.”
“Every family has them,” Jack told me, as he hung his arm around my shoulders.
“I’m going to call the police.” The lodge’s manager, Leticia, headed to her office. “First, a dead guest. Then no internet. Now it’s a murder. No way I’m keeping my job after these reviews come in.”
Sabrina addressed the crowd. “He heard me shouting. He heard me crying. He just wanted to help me. I…I should have never gone to see the professor. I just thought this was our second chance at love. Thousands of miles away from our lives, he could see he really loved me. That he loved our son. But he was always a selfish bastard. I saw that seconds before Zonah walked in.” She paused and no one spoke. “Zonah, he was just trying to protect me. The professor took me by the arm to throw me out. Zonah told him to let go. He wouldn’t. Zonah grabbed him to let me go. They argued and that’s when Zonah pulled out the knife. And that’s when it happened…They struggled over it.” She started to sob. “It was an accident.”
“Why’d he have a knife?” I asked.
“He had if from the lunch tray in the room earlier. He knew he wasn’t supposed to leave the room without an escort at night. He took it as protection.”
“And the hyenas?”
“Just dumb luck,” she admitted. Certainly not any luck for Dr. Higgins. “For Zaden’s sake, we pretended nothing happened. It was all like a bad dream.”
The police arrived. After a few questions, they hauled Zonah off. Zaden and Sabrina followed. Ray had filmed the whole event. They didn’t need any of us. In silence, Sonny drove us to the airport. Ray followed, driving the vehicle with our luggage.
We quickly boarded the plane. I wasn’t the only one staring at the four empty seats. Just days ago, we had all boarded this plane in hopes of an amazing safari, a life-changing vacation. Well, Dr. Higgins, Sabrina, Zonah, and Zaden had gotten one.
We sat in the international section of the airport waiting for our flights. This is where we would leave each other. Except Charlotte and I. We were still stuck together.
As our departure times approached, we all headed to our gates. We all promised to stay in touch. And none of us believed it. That’s just what you say, isn’t it?
“I can’t believe it,” Charlotte announced.
“What? That you went on a date with a murderer? Wait until Mom hears.”
“It was a dinner. Not a date.”
“Not your type, right?”
“No, and I hope murderers never are.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you solved a murder. Wait until Mom hears that.”
“Don’t tell her! She’ll never let us vacation together again.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t plan to. You’re exhausting.” She smiled and I doubted she meant it. She had enjoyed the vacation with me far more than she expected. So had I.
The Wallaces came over to say goodbye. Geri hugged and kissed Charlotte and me goodbye and headed for their gate. Jack paused in front of me, after his wife walked off. “Some job you did back there, Rookie.”
“Thank you.”
“Sure, you just ruined many lives in the process of solving the murder of a man no one liked but—”
“Jack!” Charlotte yelled. Did she yell at Jack in my defense? Surely I heard her wrong.
“What? Have you seen what his students say about him?” He pulled up his phone. A former student had a website devoted to him. Social media could be a mean place. The news of his death hadn’t broken yet. Maybe they’d have something nice to say then.
“But you did get justice for him and I’m proud of you.”
“You think she could do this for a living? You think you could get her a job at your police department?” Charlotte was trying to get me a career like our mother tried to get me a husband.
Jack laughed heartily. “What? Do you know how many laws she broke trying to find the killer? None of that would hold up in court in the US.” He saw the panic on my face that Dr. Higgins’ killer would go free. “Don’t worry, Rookie. I’m the only one who knows. They got Sabrina’s whole confession on video. Nothing can break that.” He tapped me on the head before departing. “Nonetheless, good job, Rookie.”
Our flight was called and we boarded.
Charlotte went into her preflight routine in preparation for the long flight. She took a few items out of her carry-on—a tablet, headphones that would make her head twice its size, and a small cosmetic case. Everything she needed for the flight. She fiddled with her carry-on luggage until it was squarely under the seat in front of her.
“Buckle up, honey! It’s going to be a rough ride,” I announced.
I waited for her to repeat what she had said when I had said the same thing at the beginning of our vacation—“It wasn’t funny when Dad did it. It’s less funny when you do it.”
She didn’t interrupt me this time. Progress? I wondered.
I pulled out my tablet and started reading a guidebook.
“What are you doing?” Charlotte asked.
“Planning my next trip.”
Keep reading for a sample of book 2 in the series!
Word of mouth is a writer’s best friend.
If you enjoyed this book,
please write a review
and
tell a friend.
Sign up for A R Kennedy’s newsletter at
arkennedyauthor.com.
Acknowledgements
I remember exactly where I was when the idea of this novel hit me. I couldn’t find it on a map but I was in South Africa.
From there, a new cast of characters and series was born. I enjoy writing this series because it allows me to use my international travel experiences—some good, some bad, some funny, some uncomfortable.
My trip to South Africa was, fortunately, hyena- and murder-free. I was extremely blessed to travel to South Africa for a milestone birthday and met a lovely small group there. To date, it is the best vacation I’ve had. I have my fellow travelers to thank for that.
Thanks also go out to my beta readers, Jackie Robins and Pat Kennedy.
As always, thank you to my editor, Lourdes Venard, and cover artist, Karen Phillips.
R.I.P. in Reykjavík
A Traveler Cozy Mystery Novel
Book 2
Dedicated to Drew and Piragis Northwoods,
in Ely, Minnesota, for showing me the wonderful country
of Iceland before the rest of the world knew about it.
Koma
{ARRIVAL}
I tried to ignore the stares of my fellow passengers in economy class as I took my highlighter-yellow luggage out of the carry-on bin. I mumbled about the person who gave it to me. I preferred my worn duffel bag. But I couldn’t bring that on this trip.
I would endure the stares of strangers in order to avoid remarks about my sense of style from someone else, someone who at times felt like a stranger to me.
The single line of weary travelers from the overnight flight trudged up the aisle to the exit. I heard rumblings about a first-class passenger as I reached the front of the aircraft.
A tall, thin woman, with hair perfectly in place despite a ten-hour flight, stood talking to the pilot. He was just her type—employed with a lucrative job, with a touch of handsome. The ring on his left ring finger was in her blind spot. Wedding rings always were, even her own.
The man in front of me said “excuse me” as he tried to get around the woman. She turned, surprised to see the hundred-plus line of people waiting to get off t
he flight. Or maybe it was me she was alarmed to see, with my unkempt hair.
She ignored me as I passed.
And there she was. My travel partner for the trip.
My mother.
I followed the crowd through the corridors of the Keflavik airport to Passport Control. I got my passport out, held it open to the picture page, and waited behind the yellow line to be called by the next available agent.
The passport agent waved me over and I handed her my passport. She examined it, looked at me, and then scanned the passport. “Reason for traveling?” she asked.
I answered easily, “Vacation.”
“Who are you traveling with?” she asked.
I looked toward the waiting travelers. I couldn’t see my mother. She was probably still talking to the pilot. I took a deep breath and answered, “My mother.” I thought she’d commiserate how traveling with your mother and being on vacation were mutually exclusive but she did not. She stamped my passport and sent me on my way.
The signs, in Icelandic and English, were easy to follow to the airport exit. I strode past the luggage carousel, pleased that I’d chosen carry-on luggage only for this trip. It was a shorter vacation than the South African safari I’d taken with my sister. And after fearing my luggage had been lost for that trip, I thought a carry-on might be a better choice. I read several articles about the benefits of packing light. It was what frequent travelers did. And that was what I was. Or at least what I hoped to be.
I had made it to the automatic doors, toward the waiting airport transportation desks, when I heard my mother shout, “Naomi! I have to get my luggage.”
I should have been able to escape without notice. I was dressed in a gray X-files T-shirt and dark denim jeans. I blended in but for the one thing that made me stand out.
It was that darn luggage she had given me for Christmas. Charlotte had gotten the highlighter-pink edition, which she loved. It had been stocked with fancy notebooks and a scheduler for college. Our brother, Jeremy, got the lime green one, which he also, surprisingly, loved. His had been stocked with snacks. My brother loved to have snacks at the ready in his college dorm room.
Mine had been empty. Read into that what you will. I had spent the holiday with our father, as I always did. I guessed my luggage would have been full of something, but I couldn’t decide what, if I had chosen her home instead.
My mother moved her designer handbag from her left to right shoulder and waved me over.
“I’ll meet you outside. I have to get the bus tickets,” I told her.
“Bus?” she asked.
“Yes, we take a bus to the Blue Lagoon from here.”
“You mean the hotel?” she asked.
“No, the hot springs. That’s our first stop. It’s on the itinerary.”
She looked at her purse and nodded. “I didn’t read it yet.”
I was not surprised.
“Can’t we get a cab?” she asked.
“The bus is already paid for,” I told her.
Budgeting was a key part of my being able to afford this trip, or any trip. If something was included, I was going to use it. I wasn’t going to pay extra for a cab ride I didn’t need. Plus, I’d read cabs were incredibly expensive here. Actually, everything was going to be expensive in Iceland.
This wasn’t an all meals, and alcohol, included trip, like the safari. My bag was stocked with meal supplement bars and other snacks in order to avoid a meal, or two, each day.
She held my arm. “Well, wait with me.” There was no escaping that grip.
In a few minutes, the carousel began moving and the trail of luggage began. I closed my eyes, wishing I had slept better on the flight. I sat down on my carry-on and waited.
My mother tapped me on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t sit in public with your eyes closed.”
And the list of things one shouldn’t do in public had begun.
“I’m tired from a long flight,” I explained.
“I don’t know how. I slept wonderfully.”
I wasn’t sure what was more annoying—that she told me how well she slept or how good she looked from the sleep. But of course she had slept well. “How was first class, Mother?”
She missed my tone, or chose to ignore it, and proceeded to tell me in detail about her first-class travel experience. It was doing little to keep me awake. Before I could interrupt the retelling of the schedule of champagne, food service, and other pamperings that economy class lacked, she squealed. “There’s my luggage. Go get it, honey.”
She pointed to the largest, and loudest, piece of luggage. I knew my mother wouldn’t have researched what to pack, how to pack, or even have read the itinerary. I wondered if this was the agitation Charlotte felt when she had traveled with me. But the size of that suitcase for a weeklong trip seemed absurd. It had to be four times the size of my luggage.
Shocked, I remained standing next to her. She poked me. “Go get it, honey.”
“It’s your luggage. It’s your problem.”
“Do not quote your father to me.”
The luggage was getting closer and I still didn’t move. I didn’t want to spend the trip in bed with a bad back. Even if I wanted to help, I had no idea how I would get that behemoth off of the track.
She pushed me toward the carousel. “Go get it, honey,” she said.
An older gentleman who was standing next to us, and probably heard the whole exchange, looked over. “I’ll help you,” he told me. He glanced at my mother when he said it.
The woman he was standing with, his wife, I guessed, stood scowling next to my mother. It was a look I’d seen often from other women when I was with my mother. It was a combination of jealousy, anger, and frustration. My mother didn’t notice, or more likely, didn’t care. She never had, and most likely never would.
Her luggage creeped toward us and I prepared to unload it from the carousel. I bent my knees and separated my legs to lift it. I had learned proper lifting mechanics at a job orientation. I couldn’t remember which one.
I took a deep breath as the luggage came within reaching distance. If I died exerting myself lifting it, I thought my corpse could fit in it.
The man laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it.”
He glanced back at my mother again. She was smiling at him. He grabbed the luggage by the side strap and, with a groan, hauled it off the carousel. With a thud, it landed on the floor. “Goodness, what does she have in here?” he asked me.
“I have no idea.”
He looked at my luggage. “You’re like my daughter, Callie. Carry-on only. It’s the only way to go.”
“I know it.”
“Don’t forget it,” he told me as he wheeled the case to me.
“I won’t,” I assured him. I was never so lucky to have someone assist me. My father taught me to depend on myself because that was the only person you ever could count on.
“Thank you, sir,” I told him as I walked away. Thank goodness for the invention of four wheels on luggage. I wheeled it over to my mother.
“Thank you…” she said to him, waiting for him to add his name.
“Frank.”
“Deirdre,” she told him. “Your help will not soon be forgotten,” she cooed.
Why did I agree to this? I thought. I doubt it would be the last time I thought it on the trip. Then I remembered I didn’t agree to this. It was thrust on me.
My mother and I walked away while the man returned to his wife. She pointed to a bag. “Francis, there’s mine, the turquoise one.”
“Well, you can get your own, can’t you, Teresa?” he said as he walked away.
Buses left the airport in hourly increments. We were one of the last from our flight to get on. As he pulled away from the airport, the driver announced that Blue Lagoon would be the first stop, in twenty minutes. He announced the other stops, hotels in Iceland’s capital city, Reykjavík, after that.
I marveled at the terrain. The dark rocky landscape was
covered intermittently by something light green, moss, I guessed. It looked extraterrestrial.
In the distance, I could see steam rising up from the land—our destination. When the bus stopped, I stood to get off. My mother didn’t move.
“This is our stop,” I told her.
“I’d rather go straight to the hotel,” she announced.
“The hotel check-in is at three. It’s only eight in the morning.”
“I’m sure they’ll let us check in early.”
“And I’m sure they won’t. Did you read the itinerary?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I stepped over her. “I’m going.”
Her eyes bulged. “You can’t leave me here.”
“Yes, I can.” I got off the bus.
I waited in the queue to get my luggage from under the bus and was not surprised to see my mother get off the bus. Her scowl also did not surprise me. She was a woman used to getting her way.
She looked around the parking lot. Except for the small area of steam rising up, it did nothing to show what fun lay ahead.
“A lagoon is not really my thing, honey.”
“It’s not really a lagoon, honey,” I retorted. I didn’t know my mother well. But I knew this was exactly something she’d enjoy. She’d never met a spa she didn’t like.
She waited for me to explain. “It’s geothermal seawater. It’s supposed to be very relaxing.” And if I weren’t with my mother, I bet it would be. Relaxing, rejuvenating, and unforgettable was what their website said. Well, I’d have one out of three.
Luggage in tow, I headed to the luggage house. “Where are you going?” she asked. She pointed toward the Blue Lagoon entrance.
“We have to stow our luggage.” I pointed at her purse. “Do you have a bathing suit in there?”
“Don’t point in public.” She looked at her luggage. “My bathing suit is in there.”