"Yes. She was tossing and turning all night last night. No idea what's bothering her."
"You two really complement one another. You never got around to telling me how you ended up partners in Vengeance."
"We met by chance in Antigua and discovered we had a lot in common," Dani said. "I had just found Vengeance and was making up my mind to buy her and go into the charter business. My family owned charter yachts for years; I've worked on them since I was a child. So anyway, I knew the key to making the business work would be finding a partner who could cook. I mean, I needed someone who could sail, but that's easy. I discovered that Liz loved cooking as much as she did sailing, and we kind of hit it off. It's a good business relationship, and she's become my best friend in the bargain. I got lucky. Good crew's hard to find, but good friends are even harder."
"You and Liz are the only friends I've had since I was a child. I never had the luxury of making friends when I was starting out. I really appreciate the way you two have taken me in."
"It's been our pleasure," Dani said. "You're an easy shipmate. You're really serious about going into this business, aren't you?"
"Yes. I worked like crazy until a couple of years ago when I came into a little money. I thought it was a fortune, of course, but it wasn't. It did give me some breathing space, though. I had always thought that if I had enough money, I'd do nothing but lie on some deserted beach and sip umbrella drinks. After two years of that, I was just about nuts. I was walking on the beach trying to figure out what to do next when I found the diamonds."
"If you go into the charter business, you won't have to worry about having enough to do. Making money at it's a whole different thing, though," Dani said.
"My big worry, aside from learning everything you and Liz can teach me, is finding somebody to work with me."
"That's a problem on a small boat like ours; everybody on the crew has to pitch in. Less of a problem on the bigger boats where you have several crew members. You can afford some specialization there. Liz and I can pretty well trade places, except for the cooking. She's way better at that than I am. Can you cook?"
"Not like Liz," Connie said.
"Speaking of Liz and cooking, we'd better head back. It'll be lunch time soon. Maybe she'll tell us what's on her mind," Dani said as she left some change on the table to cover their check.
Chapter 3
"Sorry I've been preoccupied," Liz said as Connie and Dani enjoyed the warm seafood salad she had served for their lunch. "I had an unsettling encounter yesterday -- an old boyfriend from my time in Brussels."
Dani and Connie continued to chew their food, giving Liz time to collect her thoughts.
"I guess I thought I was over him until I saw him in the store yesterday, but all the memories came flooding back."
"You've never said much about what happened in Brussels," Dani prompted.
"He was a coworker," Liz said, "but it went beyond that. I thought we were soul mates. We were together for almost a year, but it turned out that he was married. His wife was back in England with her wealthy parents."
"Men can be real shits," Connie offered.
"Yes," Liz said, "and he was."
"Should have kicked his ass," Dani said, taking a sip of the crisp white wine from her moisture-beaded glass.
"I was too stunned to do anything but curl up and feel sorry for myself," Liz said. "That was my first and only serious relationship, and he just cut me off cold like I meant nothing to him. I didn't leave my apartment for days; I can't even remember that period. Somehow, I managed to hang onto my job through all of it." She looked down at her salad and shook her head.
"Not too late to teach him some manners. He's here; we're here," Dani said, raising her eyebrows and setting her glass on the table as she grasped her right fist in her left hand.
Liz smiled with some real feeling for the first time since her encounter in the grocery store. "I would have expected to feel like doing that, but my emotions are running the other way. I can't make sense of it."
"You want to let him back into your life," Connie said. "I've had that kind of reaction before, even when a man treated me like dirt. Women are wired to forgive, I think; we're peacemakers, not warriors." She couldn't help laughing at the scowl of disagreement on Dani's face. "At least most of us are. Come on, Dani. Surely some guy must have broken your heart?"
Dani shook her head. "My wrist, one time, but I was just a kid. I got him back, though."
Liz and Connie were still laughing when a heavily built water taxi pulled alongside Vengeance.
"Bonjour, ladies." The operator stood, grasping Vengeance's gunwale with his left hand as he swept his big straw hat off and bowed his head.
"Bonjour," Dani replied.
"I have some package for Ms. Chirac. She is here?"
"I'm Liz Chirac, but I'm not expecting a delivery." Liz stood and clambered onto the side deck, dropping to a knee to be closer to eye level with the man.
The man put his hat back on and reached down toward his feet, retrieving a long, white box with an elaborate bow. He extended it toward Liz. "From a gentleman," he said.
As Liz grasped the box, the boatman released his grip on Vengeance's toe rail and pushed his boat away. He turned his attention to the idling outboard and roared away in the direction of Marin.
****
A few miles from Vengeance, in the northeastern corner of the anchorage off the marina in Cul-de-Sac Marin, the 52-foot Isis swung to her anchor. The vessel was roomy but nondescript in the way of modern, white fiberglass yachts. She was one of the mass-produced boats built to the specifications of the large bareboat charter companies, offering the maximum number of sleeping berths per dollar. Ubiquitous in the popular anchorages of the eastern Caribbean, such boats attracted little attention, and that suited Robert Delorme, especially now.
He had grown up sailing his family's yacht, a smaller, more traditional, and far more seaworthy vessel, but when he and Caroline decided to spend a few years circumnavigating, a custom yacht had been beyond their means. Aside from being inexpensive and anonymous, cookie-cutter yachts like Isis, with their condo-like interiors and modern appointments such as washer-dryers, dishwashers, and flat-screen television sets had great appeal to non-sailors like Caroline. The boats were designed to captivate those who dreamed of a romantic life at sea but were unwilling to give up the trappings perceived as necessary to modern life. Caroline Delorme had immediately fallen under the spell of the salesman at the boat show where she and Robert had been shopping, and their savings had been sufficient for a down-payment.
A few months later, she and Robert had taken delivery of their 'built-to-order' assembly-line boat, just in time to join an organized rally that promised safety in numbers to would-be adventurers who weren't confident enough to cross an ocean on their own. Their days had been filled with the lectures and classes put on by the rally's organizer, and the evenings had passed in a whirl of social activity.
They had no time alone together until their departure, and then they didn't see one another because of their watch schedule; four hour shifts left them so exhausted that they barely spoke during the offshore passage. Aside from the normal problems of non-working accessories common to new boats, their Atlantic crossing had been uneventful. After three weeks of easy sailing in benign conditions, they found themselves in St. Lucia with hundreds of other neophyte sailors from the rally. Most of the other people set out to enjoy a few months exploring the islands before returning to their former lives to savor the memories of carefree days and deserted tropical beaches.
Caroline and Robert didn't feel the pressure of time that their companions sensed. They had the rest of their lives to idle away in paradise, or so they thought, not realizing they were running out of money.
At the same time that the cocaine habit they shared helped them to avoid facing their problems, it accelerated the depletion of their remaining savings. Conveniently, their supplier offered them a way out of their financial di
lemma.
Private yachts move relatively freely throughout the islands, as does contraband of various sorts. The authorities charged with interdicting illicit trade focus by necessity on the most obvious, most egregious smugglers. Couples touring the islands on private yachts are not usually worthy of their notice. While they may carry various sorts of illegal cargo, the quantities are small and are usually for personal consumption rather than for sale.
When Robert's and Caroline's local connection learned that they couldn't afford their habit, he offered them the opportunity to earn a little cash by smuggling small quantities of drugs which he and his cronies skimmed from the major supplier for whom they worked.
To avoid the notice of his boss, their pusher arranged to sell the product to an associate in St. Lucia rather than bringing it into Martinique. Their first delivery from St. Vincent to St. Lucia had gone unnoticed, or so they thought.
While the law enforcement authorities in St. Lucia had missed the ripple of new product delivered by Isis and her crew, a rival gang in St. Lucia had felt the disruption that inevitably came when a new supplier entered the market. The thugs in St. Lucia lost no time in uncovering the source and were soon on the lookout for Isis. Turf wars were not unusual in their business; they planned to intercept the next shipment and use the crew to send a message to the interlopers from Martinique.
Robert and Caroline had picked up a second shipment from St. Vincent and were enjoying a pleasant sail back north to deliver the drugs to their supplier's contact in St. Lucia when they were intercepted in the middle of the St. Vincent Channel by three armed men in a speedboat. They were beaten severely and left for dead after they surrendered their cargo.
Barely able to sail because of their injuries, they made their way back to Martinique to be greeted by their 'friend.' He and his boss were not sympathetic. After abusing Caroline in front of a helpless Robert, they had taken her away, saying that she could work off her share of the debt.
Robert felt for Caroline, but at least he was still alive. He wasn't sure about Caroline, but he didn't see that as his problem. He needed to find a way to pay off what he owed; Caroline could fend for herself. She had helped run up their tab with the dealer; she could find her own way out of her predicament.
He was enjoying a few lines of the coke he had scored last night as he contemplated the opportunity he had been offered. He had missed Caroline at first, but he was getting over it. "Her fault anyway," he mumbled to himself. "Liz is prettier. Sailor, too. Not like bitchy Caro, always whining about living on a boat."
In the manic state following his last hit, he fantasized about life with Liz. She was a great cook and perfect crew. They could run the all-inclusive charters that his suppliers had set up for him with no problem. After a few weeks, he would be clear of his debt -- his and Caro's, he reminded himself, wondering if her captors would then release her -- and making money. If things worked out with Liz, he could resume his interrupted circumnavigation with her. "Better her than Caroline, anyway," he muttered. If not, he was sure he'd be able to find another woman. Women were easy to come by if you had a yacht and money.
****
Liz and Dani sat in the cockpit, watching Connie in the distance. She had taken the dinghy and her snorkeling gear to the reef along the shore south of Ste. Anne, sensing that Liz wanted some time alone with Dani.
"I know I should cut my losses," Liz said, "but part of me needs to see him and talk things through with him."
"Don't get sucked in by the flowers, Liz." Dani glanced over at the open box on the cockpit seat beside Liz. The roses were beginning to wilt. Liz held the note in one hand, the fingers of her other hand fidgeting with a corner of the heavy, cream-colored paper.
"No. It's not the flowers," Liz said. "It's just…"
Dani let the silence hang, knowing that there was no advice that she could offer her friend. This was a situation with which she had no experience. She liked the occasional company of a strong, independent man herself, but she had never formed any romantic attachments, nor was she interested in doing so.
"There's so much that's unresolved," Liz continued. "I thought we were together for life, and suddenly, he was gone. There was nobody I could talk to about it -- no chance for me to discuss it with him, to try to understand what happened. I don't even know how he felt about me, really. I found out from some of our coworkers that he was from a wealthy family; his wife's father was some kind of minor noble. I consoled myself for a while with the idea that he really wanted to be with me, but that his family situation left him no choice."
"Think that was it?" Dani asked.
"That's the problem. I don't have any idea; I was just making up explanations for his behavior to try to cope. Pathetic, huh?"
Dani shrugged, not knowing how to answer. She was angry that her friend had been hurt and was still suffering. She suppressed her urge to find Robert Delorme and deal with him herself, the worthless bastard. She knew that would make her feel better, but it wouldn't help Liz.
"For months, I thought that if I could just talk with him, I could put my feelings to rest, at least. I didn't have any fantasies about his coming back; I didn't want him back, but I needed -- guess I still need -- to know why he did that to me."
Liz stared at the note in her hand for a long moment. She sniffed back her tears and looked up at her friend. "Help me, Dani. You're the best friend I've got -- the only person I can talk to, now that my father's dead. Should I meet Robert for drinks this evening, or not?"
"I can't answer that, Liz. I've never been where you are. All I can tell you is to do what will get you through this with the least pain. You've already suffered enough because of him; don't do anything that might make it worse."
Liz nodded, choking back tears. Dani reached toward her, offering an awkward embrace. Liz fell into her arms, hugging her and sobbing. Dani, her jaws clenched, patted her friend's shoulder gently, holding her, stroking her hair as she had seen women do when soothing an upset child.
Chapter 4
Sandrine shook her head as Dani explained Liz's quandary. Her husband, Phillip, was a former business partner of Dani's father and was like an older brother to Dani. He had retired to a villa overlooking the anchorage in Ste. Anne, and he and Sandrine enjoyed visiting with Dani and Liz when Vengeance was in their neighborhood. Sandrine and Phillip had invited the three women to dinner and had been surprised when only Connie and Dani had appeared. They were sitting on the veranda, looking out over the anchorage where Vengeance was silhouetted by the fast-fading light of another gorgeous sunset.
"Why you do not tell her to do not go with him, Dani?"
"I was out of my depth. My advice was to break his nose. Connie has more experience with this sort of thing."
Sandrine shifted her penetrating stare to Connie. "So?"
"You can't tell someone else how she should feel, Sandrine. Liz has to find her own way through this. Her emotions are pulling her one way and her rational self is pulling her another. You must have been there, even if Dani hasn't."
"No, never. Sometimes a man behave like I am merde…how you Americans say? Piece of shit, is right?"
"That's the saying," Connie agreed.
"This makes me to be angry, like the crazy chicken with rain…is not right. How you say?"
"Wet hen," Dani offered, suppressing a smile. "Makes you mad as a wet hen."
"Yes. That is so. Mad like the 'wet hen.' I spit on this man who make me the wet hen. So, not to wish to see him again."
"You are fortunate to be so sure of yourself," Connie said. "I envy you and Dani for that. Not all of us are that way. Some of us blame ourselves when people mistreat us."
Sandrine thought about that for a moment. "Is this so with Liz, Dani?"
"She was feeling all alone when she met him, I think. Her father had just died, and they were close. Remember that he raised her by himself after her mother died when she was young. She was vulnerable, and she trusted this jerk."
"
So she must see him, the jerk, you say, to make her understand he is not good? That is it, I think. She will see. Then she spit on him, like the crazy chicken in the rain."
Their conversation was interrupted by the chiming of the kitchen timer from inside the house. "Dinner in ten minutes," Sandrine said, excusing herself as Phillip poured more wine for their guests.
****
Liz sat in the booth at the dockside bar with Robert and sipped her wine with restraint. She was determined to keep her wits about her; she was emotionally drained from her afternoon of indecision and she worried that she was feeling too much warmth toward him. She had finally decided that confronting him was preferable to continued agonizing. She would hear him out; then she could ask her questions, if any remained.
She was frustrated with herself. She still felt the old familiar tingle every time her eyes found Robert's; she was annoyed that her hormones were betraying her after all this time. He was as handsome as ever, and he was groveling, which was a new experience for Liz.
She had initially been attracted to him because he was so sure of himself. Seeing him in a tentative, apologetic posture was disarming. She fought down her impulse to reach out, to soothe him, forcing her attention back to what he was saying.
"…so when she told her parents that I was going to divorce her so that I could be with you, all hell broke loose. I didn't know that her father's bank held the notes on my father's business. Jesus! My old man went berserk."
"Her father threatened to call the loans?" Liz asked.
"I don't think it got that far. Our parents had always been very close; Caroline and I were just an extension of their long-standing relationship. My father was going to cut me out of his will and get me fired from the job with the European Commission. Between him and Caroline's father, I would have been finished; no financial institution in the world would have hired me against their advice."
"What did Caroline think? She can't have been happy that you were having an affair with me; I would have thought she would have wanted a divorce." Liz contemplated the broken man across the table. She reconsidered his glib answer to her earlier question. When she had asked him how he could have led her on for so long when he was married, he had told her that he had been overcome by passion for her the first time he met her.
Bluewater Betrayal: The Fifth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 5) Page 2