The man held a cellphone to his ear as he approached. He put the phone on the seat beside him as he stood to grasp Vengeance's toe-rail. "Sorry to disturb, ma'am, but I want to see if you like some souvenir. My wife make." He grinned, showing gaps in his teeth. With his free hand, he gestured at the contents of his boat.
Liz thought he was an East Indian, although the hat covered so much of his face that she wasn't sure. "No, thanks," she said. As an afterthought, she asked, "Were you here yesterday?"
"Yesterday?" He shook his head. "Why you ask?"
"I wondered if you saw my friend aboard; I've been away, and I can't find her."
"No, ma'am," the man said, a big grin on his dark face. "I was not here yesterday. Yesterday big cruise ship day down to Castries. Lotsa bidness, mm-hmm." He bent to start his engine. "Have a good day, ma'am. God bless," he called as the boat drifted away, the engine sputtering and clattering to life.
As Liz watched him motoring toward the entrance channel to Rodney Bay Lagoon, she saw a big, gray RIB with twin outboards on its way out into the Bay. Opening the small locker next to the helm, she lifted a pair of binoculars and trained them on the RIB, which was now on a plane, moving toward the anchorage at high speed, blue lights flashing above the sunshade.
"SLASPA," she muttered, reading the legend on the side of the boat, recognizing the abbreviation for St. Lucia Air and Sea Port Authority.
By the time she put the binoculars away and took another sip of her coffee, the RIB had slowed to a fast idle and was coming alongside Vengeance. She got to her feet and stepped onto the side deck, offering a wave to the man who stood braced against the small cabin that housed the controls.
He returned the wave, grinning. "Good morning, ma'am. Welcome to St. Lucia. We are from the Port Authority Police."
"Good morning," Liz said. "I was just thinking of calling you."
The man consulted a clip board that he held in his left hand. "Would you be Ms. Berger, or Ms. Chirac?"
"I'm Liz Chirac. Do you need to see our paperwork?"
"Oh, no ma'am, I have it here from where you cleared in a few days ago. This is just a courtesy visit. We swing through the anchorage every so often, jus' to make sure t'ings are all okay. You say you t'ink about calling us?"
"Yes. I've been out of the country for a few days. I just got back last night, and Dani Berger, the co-owner, is missing."
The grin faded, replaced by a frown. "Missing? How long she missing?"
"I don't know, exactly. She was on the boat sometime yesterday, because we traded emails. She was supposed to meet me for dinner at the marina restaurant last night when I got here from the airport."
"An' she don' show up?"
"That's right. I called our friends in Martinique to see if they'd heard anything from her, but they had not."
"You wish to report Ms. Berger as missing, you t'ink?"
"Yes, please."
"Okay, but we mus' wait for at least 24 hours. That would mean sometime tonight, prob'ly, but the office be closed then. So you come by tomorrow if you in the marina. Or you call us on channel 68, an' we come out an' take report. Sorry, but tha's the rules we got to go by, Ms. Chirac. But don' be worried. St. Lucia ver' safe, no problem. She prob'ly jus' meet some handsome fella, but she should call you so you don' worry."
"Thanks," Liz said. "I'll call or come in if I don't hear from her."
"Yes, ma'am, you do that, please."
He gave a little salute and turned to the man at the helm. The boat moved away and stopped for a moment at the boat where the man was doing calisthenics. Liz watched as the RIB went through the anchorage at low speed, the man making notes on his clipboard as they passed the sterns of the anchored boats. Occasionally, the RIB would pull alongside and stop for a minute or two to talk if someone was on deck.
Her initial suspicion fading, she decided that this was indeed a routine patrol. It happened sometimes, but seldom enough to be unusual. At first, worried about Dani, she had thought something was amiss when the RIB came directly to Vengeance, but she was, after all, the closest boat to the beach.
She finished her coffee and climbed down into the dinghy. After the harbor police had been through, she was sure everybody in the anchorage was awake. It was about 7:30; she should be able to make the rounds of the nearby boats and come back in time to check in on the local cruiser's radio net at 8:30.
If none of the neighbors knew anything, she would make an announcement on the VHF radio net; the coconut telegraph, as everyone called it, reached far and wide. If anybody knew anything about Dani, chances were she'd discover it that way.
Chapter 4
"It's been a strange morning so far, Phillip," Liz said. She was back aboard Vengeance after having gone to talk with the couple on the nearest boat.
"How so?"
Liz told him about her early morning visit from the harbor police.
"No surprise there," he said. "We didn't expect that they would take a missing person report until after some time had passed."
"Right. That's not the strange part. The strange part is that the people on the next boat just told me that Dani left early yesterday afternoon in a different RIB from SLASPA. There were a couple of uniformed police officers with her — one male, one female."
"That is strange, then. Did they think she'd been arrested?"
"They didn't know; all they knew was that there was one cop on each side of her, but they didn't think she was handcuffed. Have you heard back from Cedric?"
"Not yet. He wanted to make a few calls and get back to me, but he did say that there had been a murder there the night before last."
"Here? Where?"
"The body was found on the beach near the Gros Islet breakwater."
"That's no more than a couple of hundred meters from here; we're anchored right off the beach. Tell me it wasn't — "
"No. Sorry. I should have told you straightaway. The victim was a local man, a ne'er-do-well beach bum."
"Well, that's a relief, I guess, but this whole thing with the harbor police makes no sense. I mean, if they'd arrested Dani, wouldn't they have told me?"
"You'd think. If she were in custody, somebody would have heard from her by now. That's been nearly 24 hours; they aren't as scrupulous about allowing phone calls as they are in the States, but still ... "
"If Cedric knew about the murder, wouldn't he have known if they'd arrested Dani?"
"Of course he would, and he would have told me right up front. There's no reason to think they would arrest Dani anyway. She wouldn't have been mixed up with the victim. From what Cedric said, he made a living as a gigolo, hanging out at the beach resorts looking for wealthy older women."
"Not Dani's type, for sure," Liz said.
"No, though he did have a record for petty theft from anchored yachts — several arrests over the years, but never any violence."
"You don't think ... " Liz paused, shaking her head.
"Not Dani. If she'd caught him on Vengeance, she might have knocked him around a little, but she wouldn't kill anybody for thievery. Not unless he was trying to hurt her."
"No. I don't think so either. And if she had — "
"They wouldn't have found a body." Phillip finished her thought.
"Certainly not on the beach a hundred yards from our boat."
"Right. I think we should sit tight until Cedric calls back," Phillip said. "You got any other ideas?"
"No, but I can't just sit here. I'm thinking I'll make the rounds of the beach bars with a recent snapshot of Dani. Maybe somebody will recognize her. But you are going to push Cedric a little on this thing about Dani leaving with the two cops in the harbor patrol launch, aren't you?"
"I sure am, but there could be an innocent explanation for that."
"Like what?" Liz asked.
"Maybe they wanted to ask her some questions; sounds like she might have had a front row seat for the murder."
"Then why wouldn't the guy on the harbor patrol launch have tol
d me?"
"Different crew, maybe? Could be he wasn't working yesterday, or that RIB was assigned somewhere else. They move those guys around on a random basis. Helps cut down on any chance for corruption. The French do the same over here in Martinique. Sandrine never knows who's going to be running the patrols in her sector until the start of the day."
"I hope it's something like that," Liz said.
"Hang in there; she'll be okay."
"I know, but ... what about J._P.?"
"Let's wait until I hear from Cedric."
"All right. I guess I'll go ashore and start asking around."
"Might as well. Keep your phone handy. I'll call as soon as I hear anything."
"All right. Me, too." She disconnected the call and locked the boat, planning to have lunch somewhere ashore.
****
As Detective Constable Lucas had feared, the woman aboard Berger's yacht was Berger's business partner, Liesbet Chirac. Predictably, she had wanted to file a missing person report with the crew on the harbor patrol boat, but the officer in charge had stalled her, based on his instructions from Lucas.
The one bright spot as far as Lucas was concerned was that the crew of the RIB which had visited the yacht this morning had not been involved in taking Berger into custody yesterday. Chirac wouldn't be able to file a report until tomorrow morning, so he had a little time to sort things out. He sat in the marina restaurant, dawdling over the remains of his breakfast as he thought about his options.
He needed to find Derek Mitchum. A formal identification of Berger as the killer by an eyewitness would make things much easier, giving him grounds to arrest her and charge her. He would drive down to Marigot and find the man. Meanwhile, he needed to cover his tracks in case Chirac got impatient. He took his cellphone from his pocket and scrolled through the directory until he found Mary Jordan, the warden at the women's prison.
"You want me to lose her paperwork?" she asked, no surprise in her voice.
"Yes, just for a little while — maybe until tomorrow."
"Hold on." He heard her put her palm over the mouthpiece. He heard muffled conversation while he waited.
"Okay, I have it all here. Nothing has been officially recorded yet."
Lucas released the breath that he had not realized he was holding. "Thanks, Mary."
"It's going to cost you, and I can't do anything about the officers who brought her in. If they talk, we'll both be in trouble."
"I'll try to track them down and put fear of the Lord into them."
"Yeah, mebbe so, Zack, but if they already told someone, we are in trouble."
"You got a better idea?"
"Yeah, but it will take some doing. It would give you time to make the case, though."
"What are you thinking?" Lucas asked, frowning.
"We could release her."
"No way, Mary. If we let her go, she'll tell everybody what happened. Prob'ly skip out, too. Besides, I think she killed him. I jus' need to line up the case."
"I didn't mean really release her, fool."
"I don't follow, Mary."
"We show on the paperwork that she was questioned and released an hour after they brought her in. You wit' me so far?"
"Yeah, but — "
"You let me finish. We fix it for some private citizens to hold her, so she can't be found until you ready to charge her. Now you wit' me?"
"Yeah, but who would do that?"
"Some people I know. They would do it for goodwill."
"Goodwill?"
"Mm-hmm. These people, they are always looking for a way the police can owe them a favor."
Lucas swallowed hard. "They dealin'?"
"Uh-uh. Runnin' women. Nice and clean, no drugs, nothin' to be upset about, and they got the know-how and the place to keep her."
"But what if I can't come up with enough to charge her?"
"No problem. Pretty young white gal like her, blonde hair, blue eyes, they might even pay us to take her off our hands."
"I don't know, Mary. I — "
"You ain't got any better ideas, do you?"
"No. When do I have to — "
"Now, Zack. I got stuff to do if you want this cleaned up before people start askin' questions."
"Do it."
"My pleasure. And like I said, it's going to cost you. Be ready."
"I thought you said it would be for favors."
"That's them. I got some expenses, too. Lots of people here need to look the other way; they ain't goin' to know what's happenin', but I got to make sure they got some reason not to be curious, see."
"How much?"
"Not too much, prob'ly. A few hundred E.C. dollars. I'll let you know when it's done."
"Okay. Do it." Lucas put away his cellphone and waved for a check. He wanted to get to Marigot before lunchtime.
****
Liz was in the dinghy when her cellphone rang. She was headed for the yacht club across the bay from where Vengeance was anchored. She killed the outboard and let the dinghy drift so that she would be able to hear.
"Hi, Phillip."
"Hi. I just got off the phone with Cedric. There's no record of Dani anywhere in their system, and nothing's been filed on the murder case yet."
"What's that mean? That nothing's been filed?"
"He said it was sloppy work, but not unusual. There's a Detective Constable Lucas running the case; he'll have all the reports. He should have filed the originals with the precinct clerk and kept copies for himself, but Cedric says it's typical for that to be overlooked in the heat of the moment. Apparently filing the reports eats up a lot of time — copy machines don't work, the clerks aren't around, what have you. So the officer in charge just works out of his pocket until things slow down. Then he catches up on the paperwork."
"What did he say about Dani and the harbor patrol boat?"
"Nothing, really. He thinks it's probably what we talked about. He wanted to chase that down and call me back. He needs to find out who was working the patrol boat out of Rodney Bay yesterday and talk to them. He's trying to track down the D.C. who's investigating the murder, too, but the guy's out of touch trying to find a witness."
"What about J._P.?"
"My next call. Cedric asked me to slow-roll it for an hour or so. He knows J._P. will call him right away, and he's hoping he'll have some information by then."
"Fair enough, I guess."
"What's new on your end? Any luck with people recognizing Dani?"
"Not really. I've been to a couple of the beach bars closest to Vengeance. Dani ate lunch in the one at the time-share day before yesterday. She was by herself; she left by herself. The bartender at the other place knows us both, but she hasn't seen Dani since the last time we were both there."
"That it?"
"No, they bent my ear about the murder. Of course, they knew the victim. He was movie-star handsome, and a smooth talker. He was a big tipper when he'd scored some rich woman, otherwise, he ran a tab. Nobody ever heard of him doing anything violent."
"That pretty well matches what Cedric said. He says nobody can figure out why anybody would kill the man."
"Yes. I heard the same. He was a nice guy, I guess, for a slime-ball," Liz said. "I suggested a jealous husband, but nobody thought that fit. He was always careful to make sure there was no man in the picture before he moved in on his prey."
"Did either of them offer any other ideas?"
"Yes. The bartender at the closest place did. She thought he might have stumbled into a drug deal. Apparently that stretch of beach where he was killed is a common early morning rendezvous for small boats from Martinique bringing contraband to local crooks."
"But you said you were anchored within a hundred yards of the spot."
"True. We've anchored here often, and there are always several cruising boats here, too. I mentioned that, and she said her boyfriend said all the anchored boats were good cover. They slip in with heavily muffled engines and no lights, early in the morning when
we're all asleep."
"What's next for you?" Phillip asked.
"I'm headed for the yacht club. I'll get lunch there and see if anybody recognizes Dani. Then I'll hit the beach bars on that side of the entrance channel."
"Across the channel from Gros Islet? Where all the tourist traps are?"
"Right."
"Well, good hunting. I'll call when I hear back from Cedric."
"Thanks, Phillip."
"Chin up, Liz. We'll find her."
"Yes, sir. Give my best to J._P. if you talk to him before we speak again."
"Will do. 'Bye."
"Goodbye."
Chapter 5
"Why you lookin' fo' he?" The woman's face was somber, revealing nothing. She was a big woman, heavy, and her body filled the door to the shack.
D.C. Lucas stood under the crooked galvanized awning that almost shaded the front step. He had flashed his badge and stepped close to her when she opened the door, expected her to back up so that he could see into the living quarters. She had held her ground, glaring at him in defiance until he asked for Derek Mitchum.
"Just to ask him some questions," he said.
"Hmph. What questions?"
"I need to ask him," Lucas said, his voice rising as he returned her stare. "Who are you? His wife?"
"Mebbe, mebbe not. Don't matter. He ain't here."
"Can I come inside?"
She stared at him for several seconds, a fly landing in the corner of her right eye. She ignored the fly for a few beats and then blinked it away, her stare unwavering. She shrugged and stepped back into the gloom, her hand still on the door.
Taking that as assent, Lucas squeezed past her and stepped into the one-room dwelling. He glanced around, taking in the neatly made double bed, a small, painted chest of drawers, and a rickety-looking table with two crude wooden chairs.
One wall was the kitchen, a gas stove in the corner, the propane tank sitting next to it. A Styrofoam cooler served as a refrigerator, and two open shelves held a few dishes, pots, and canned goods. Bags of rice, dried beans, and flour sat on another shelf on the adjacent wall, a gallon jug of cooking oil next to them. A pot of some kind of West Indian curry simmered on the stove.
Bluewater Jailbird: The Tenth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 10) Page 3