Blue Water Hues

by Vicki Delany

  “You think he shot himself in the chest? That’s unusual. They usually take out the head if they’re serious.”

  “Yup. But it happens. Might have lost his nerve, lowered the gun, and his hand slipped.”

  “He’s not going to make it,” I said.

  “Waste of a trip then.” Alan had come with us, I knew, in case the patient woke up and had something to say.

  Ralph Bosleigh was dead by the time we got to the hospital. We rushed him into the emergency room anyway. Doctors and nurses flocked around.

  Simon saw someone he knew in the waiting room and went for a chat. I started the paperwork. Alan called for a car to pick him up.

  “Busy day,” he said to me.

  “So it was. I’m looking forward to a couple of days off.”

  “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  “Thanks.” I looked around the waiting room. “Where’s Simon gone? We have a heck of a cleaning job to do on The Beast.”

  We finished hospital paperwork, put on fresh uniforms, cleaned the ambulance and went back to the station. Rachel had her feet on the coffee table and was reading a fashion magazine. Liz snoozed on a cot. Rachel grinned as we came in. “Nice of you to give us some down time,” she said.

  “I’m sure you’ll return the favor soon enough,” I said.

  “My date doesn’t mind waiting,” Simon said. “She knows I’m doing the Lord’s work.”

  Liz, awake now, snorted.

  “Your date?” I said. Simon was in his late fifties. His craggy face showed evidence of a hard life lived under a hot sun. He wore a shiny gold wedding ring, but I’d never met his wife. “Aren’t you married?”

  “Some men in the islands,” Rachel said, “believe marriage to be a flexible idea.”

  “On the man’s part anyway,” Liz said.

  Simon grinned.

  It was too late for me to meet my friends. Simon gave me a lift to my hotel in his crumbling old beater. It was better than walking. But not by much.

  I was surprised to see lights on in Darlene’s office. She sat at her desk, head bent over her computer.

  “Still here?” I said.

  She jumped. “Heavens, honey, you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “Sorry. I wanted to check that you’re okay.”

  She smiled at me. “That’s nice of you. I’m fine. My mama’s swung into action. I left work early and didn’t finish all I needed to.You look tired. Hard day?”

  “Yeah. Two bad calls.”

  “Rhonda and another?”

  “GSW— gunshot wound. Guy didn’t make it.”

  “Tough,” she said. “Bloody guns. I hate them all. Too many getting through to this island. He a local?

  “Probably. Name of Ralph Bosleigh.”

  Darlene’s eyes opened wide. Blood drained from her face.

  I was horrified. “I am so sorry. I must be more tired than I thought. I should never have blurted out the name.”

  “That’s okay. I know him, and I got no time for him. But my cousin Rhonda did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ralph Bosleigh is Rhonda’s boyfriend.”

  THREE

  “HER BOYFRIEND? Do you think Ralph killed himself because she died? How tragic is that?”

  “You’re such a romantic, Ashley. Ralph Bosleigh didn’t love no one but Ralph Bosleigh.” She pushed a few keys on her computer and then switched it off. “Time to leave. I told Mama I’d go round to Antonia’s to help out.”

  “Help how? Make phone calls and such?”

  She smiled at me. “Don’t need no phone. Not when the family grapevine is called up. Everyone’s gathering at Antonia’s house.”

  “Do you think they’d mind an outsider?”

  “Honey, the house will be so full they won’t notice one more. Do you want to come?”

  “If you think that would be okay.”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you wait for me to run up and change? I can get a taxi back.”

  “Okay.”

  I made a quick phone call as I dashed through the hotel grounds, heading for my apartment.

  “Westbrook.”

  “Hi, Alan. It’s Ashley. I learned something you might be interested in.”

  “Go ahead.” His voice was clipped and formal. I could hear voices in the background.

  “Darlene, who works at my hotel, told me that Ralph Bosleigh was Rhonda Michaels’s boyfriend.”

  He sucked in a breath. I felt a shiver of pleasure. I’d managed to tell him something he didn’t know. “That might be significant, right?” I asked.

  “It well might. Thanks, Ashley.” He hung up.

  I wasn’t quite sure what to wear to the island version of a wake. I didn’t have anything black. Not even dark brown or navy blue. I riffled through my closet after taking the world’s fastest shower. The perfect outfit didn’t magically appear. I decided on a purple sundress with a pattern of dark-red flowers and a light-red sweater. I slipped my feet into black sandals and headed out.

  Darlene was waiting for me in the parking lot. Her car was old but clean and free of rust. “You look nice,” she said.

  “Thanks.” I hopped into the passenger seat.

  Antonia Michaels’s house was on a quiet street of nice homes and gardens. Cars filled the driveway and spilled onto the sides of the road. Men stood on the porch, smoking and drinking from cans of beer. They greeted Darlene with kisses and hugs. She introduced me as her friend. They all said they were pleased to meet me. Darlene and I went inside.

  Even if it had been empty of people, this house would feel crowded. It had too much furniture, and the furniture was too big for the space. The many couches and settees were plush velvet. The dining-room table could seat ten. A buffet of solid mahogany filled one wall and a giant flat-screen TV another. Thick gold drapes covered the windows. Framed photographs filled every inch of the many side tables. People sat in chairs and perched on armrests. Children ran from room to room. Babies crawled on the floor around feet and furniture. Women moved through the crowd, carrying platters piled high with food. I spotted Simon in a group of men. He held a beer in one hand and a sandwich in the other. Once they’d politely said hello, no one paid me much attention. Two women, older versions of Darlene, sat in wingback chairs beneath the front windows. Their eyes were wet, and they twisted tissues between their fingers. Darlene introduced me to her mother and her aunt Antonia.

  “Ashley had met Rhonda,” Darlene said, “and wanted to pay her respects.”

  Fortunately she didn’t say under what circumstances I had “met” her late cousin. Antonia thanked me for coming, and I stepped aside so she could greet the next visitor. Darlene stayed with her mom, and I went to say hi to a group of nurses I recognized from the hospital.

  They were telling me about the best place on the island to go for conch when I overheard a woman say, “Wonder why Ralph isn’t here.”

  Someone gasped. All conversation died.

  “What?” she said.

  “You didn’t hear?”

  “Hear what? What’s that fool man gone and done now? Not in jail again, I hope.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “You don’t say! What happened?”

  “Killed himself, the police say.”

  “No!”

  “Who would have thought he’d be that upset about Rhonda?”

  “Ralph Bosleigh wasn’t the sort to kill himself. Over Rhonda or anything else.”

  “The police aren’t saying what caused the hotel fire. You don’t suppose…” The speaker lowered her voice. I tried to edge closer. “…he killed her, do you?”

  Another round of gasps.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me one little bit,” an elderly woman said. “Ralph was not a nice man.”

  “Now, Alice, don’t you be talking ill of the dead.”

  “It’s true,” Alice said. “You all know Marian Black?”

  Heads nodded.

  “I’
m not one to spread gossip, but...”

  I grinned to myself. The best dirt always follows I’m not a gossip.

  “Marian’s granddaughter Maureen went out with Ralph for a while. Marian didn’t like him one little bit. Once they started dating, Maureen always seemed to be short of money. Right around then, Ralph upped and bought himself a new car.”

  “You think...”

  “Marian was mighty glad when they broke up. And that’s all I can say.”

  “Whatever happened to that boy of hers? The one who went to Florida?”

  The conversation moved on. I glanced around. The house continued to fill as people poured through the doors. Some of the smokers had come inside. They hadn’t bothered to put out their cigarettes first. Many of the women had used a heavy hand on the perfume bottle. Somewhere not far from me, a baby had filled his diaper. It was getting hard to breathe in here. Sweat dripped down my back. Overhead fans did nothing but stir the thick air. I wanted to take off my sweater, but I had no place to put it.

  Darlene was in a corner, speaking to a man. They did not appear to be having a friendly chat. Her face was tight with anger. His fists were clenched at his sides.

  It might be a family spat. None of my business. But in case she needed help, I pushed my way through the crowd.

  “Someone has to do something,” she said.

  “Don’t interfere, Darlene.” He saw me approach. “Yes?” The single word was not friendly.

  Darlene forced her face into a smile. “There you are. I was about to come and get you. Time to leave, Ashley.”

  “Darlene, listen to me.” The man reached out to take her arm. She snatched it away.

  “Say goodbye to your mama for me,Teddy.”

  “Darlene...”

  She grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

  “What was that about?” I asked. “Who was that man?”

  “Teddy. Rhonda’s brother. I never did get on with him. Even when we were kids he thought he could boss us all around.”

  “What was he talking about?”

  “Family business.” Her tone was sharp.

  I said no more.

  FOUR

  EVERYONE BACK HOME thinks I’m so lucky to be living in a Caribbean paradise.

  I try to remind myself of that.

  I have a lovely apartment in a nice hotel complex. A large ground-floor space with a kitchen, living room and bedroom. A small, private, flower-filled garden. A swimming pool nearby. A thirty-second walk to one of the world’s best beaches.

  But I miss home. I’m a small-town girl, born and raised in Prince Edward County, who moved to the big city to work. I miss the friendly town. I miss the busy city. I miss my friends, the job I loved. I even miss my parents. I don’t miss my cheating ex-fiancé though. He is the reason I came to the Caribbean in the first place.

  Every morning I try to cheer myself up by checking the Ontario weather online. Today it was a high of minus two and freezing rain in the evening. Toronto paramedics would be busy. They’d be cold standing on the street and hot wearing coats in overheated apartments.

  I was heading for the beach.

  A woman can spend only so much time on the beach. Particularly a woman who isn’t all that fond of the water. At least, not in quantities such as they have here. When I accepted the job, I didn’t realize just how small Grand Victoria Island is. Or how much of an island it is. It’s almost completely flat, with one hill on the western edge. From the second floor of some buildings you can see the sea on both sides.

  I had three days off. Three days with nothing to do but go to the beach. I’d already been to all the shops in town. I’d seen the movie playing at the one theater. There wouldn’t be a new one for another week. There were no ball games or concerts I might like to go to. I could always head out for a run on the beach. But I’d already run three times this week, even though I don’t like doing it. So that didn’t seem like a good idea.

  I could explore my new island home. Seeing as how that meant more stretches of sand and more ocean views, I didn’t really see the point.

  I was desperately hoping I’d be able to get Blue Jays baseball on TV come spring.

  I’d made friends with a couple of English women living in my hotel. They were here for a year of teaching. They, of course, were at work during the week.

  I called my mom. When I’d first arrived, she’d told me to phone every day. I’d managed to get that down to twice a week. I was hoping I could soon get by with once a week. Not that I don’t love my mom. I do. But her first question is always when am I coming back to Canada. And the second is, when am I going to make up with John and get our wedding back on track.

  The answer to the first question is someday. To the second, it is never.

  Ritual over, Mom launched into praising her youngest grandchild. I think my niece is a cute kid. Unlike Mom, I don’t think she’s the next Céline Dion.

  “Here’s your father now,” Mom said. “He’s finished the driveway.”

  “Don’t tell me Dad’s been shoveling again! I thought he hired someone. How many times have I told you he’s not to do that? The number of heart-attack calls we get in the winter from elderly men…They get no exercise all year —”

  “You know your father. He doesn’t think the plow does a good enough job.”

  I groaned. “Give him my love.”

  Mom said they were thinking of coming to visit me. I doubted that would happen. My parents don’t care for international travel.

  We hung up. I was faced with the rest of the day and nothing to do.

  I put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and slipped my feet into flip-flops. Might as well go for a morning walk along the beach. Again.

  Darlene had brought me home the night before, after we left Antonia’s. She hadn’t said much on the drive. I hadn’t asked any more questions.

  I stopped at the office before my walk to say good morning. I found Darlene at her desk. She didn’t look as though she’d slept well. “Everything okay after you dropped me off?” I asked.

  She pushed her chair back and rubbed her face. “Bad night. Couldn’t sleep. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Sounds good.” I sat in the visitor’s chair while Darlene fussed with the kettle and tea bags. She served me a steaming mug and sat down. She cradled her drink in her hands.

  I sipped the hot, overly sweet drink.

  “Rhonda and I weren’t friends,” she said. “But we grew up together as children. That means something.”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t believe she died in an accident,” Darlene said.

  “What do you think happened?”

  “Rhonda was a stubborn one. Always getting herself into trouble. She didn’t know when to back off. I took the blame for her one time. We were sixteen, and after that we stopped hanging out together. I hadn’t seen her for a long time until she came here the other day.”

  “Was that when I saw her?”

  Darlene nodded. “She said she wanted to talk about plans for her mother’s sixtieth-birthday party. I knew there was more. I could tell something was bothering her. Something at work.”

  “Did she say what?”

  “No. She mumbled a few words about troublesome people. I didn’t pay much attention. Rhonda was always complaining about people. I asked her why she didn’t find another job.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  “That they couldn’t make her quit. And that was it. We went on to talk about party plans.” Darlene shook her head sadly. “I’m guessing there’ll be no party now.”

  “Problems with co-workers don’t usually lead to people being killed,” I said.

  “I tried to talk to Teddy about it last night. I asked him if she had enemies at work. He said to drop it.”

  “Let the police handle it,” I said. “If there’s something to find, they’ll find it.”

  “I’m not so sure. You’re friends with that police officer, aren’t you? Why don’t you a
sk him what they found out about the fire?”

  “I wouldn’t say we’re friends. We work together sometimes.”

  “You can work together when you ask him about the fire. Please, Ashley. The police aren’t going to listen to me. They’ll say I’m being fanciful.”

  The last time there’d been a murder on the island, I’d talked it over with Alan Westbrook. Then, I’d been directly involved. This time, might he think I was being nosy?

  I didn’t know what my feelings were for Alan Westbrook. Or even if I had any. He was around my age. He was handsome and funny. He was single (as far as I knew). He was even Canadian. An RCMP officer working temporarily with the V&A police.

  I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be here.

  Did it matter? I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I would be happy to have him as a friend. I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

  “Great!” Darlene said. “I knew I could count on you.”

  I made the call.

  FIVE

  ALAN WESTBROOK nibbled on a piece of fried conch. I bit into my burger. After a few weeks on the island, I was already getting tired of seafood. I don’t like fish very much. That’s another thing I forgot when I decided to come here.

  We were at a restaurant on the beach. The kitchen was in a straw-roofed shack, open to the breezes. Pink and baby-blue picnic tables were set up on the sand. Matching umbrellas protected diners from the strong sun. Loudspeakers blasted out reggae music.

  Alan wore his police uniform. He’d been at work when I called but said he could get away for a quick lunch. He’d sounded pleased to hear from me. I didn’t know what I thought about that.

  He also sounded tired. He probably hadn’t been to bed the previous night. Black stubble was thick on his jaw. Some of the usual spark had faded from his blue eyes. “Can’t hurt to tell you what we found.” He ran a hand across his face. The sun lit up the blond streaks in his short brown hair. “It’ll be in the papers soon. The fire at the Blue Water Vista was arson. No doubt about it. Gas had been splashed around the kitchen.”

  “Could have been a lot worse then,” I said.

  His handsome face was grim. “We suspect the fire was intended to cause minimal damage. The kitchen is in an outbuilding. Flames would have been spotted before they spread much farther. It happened between lunch and dinner shifts. The full staff wasn’t at work.”