The Commissioner nodded. "I think we both suspected it would come to this, Harold. You can only do what you can do. Thank God she wasn't a tourist." He saw the fleeting look of distress that crossed the Chief Superintendent's face.
"Harold, you know I don't mean to lessen the gravity of her death. It's just a blessing that we can all mourn her among ourselves, without the news media from the rest of the world stirring up trouble."
The Chief Superintendent nodded, licking his lips where he had chewed them raw in his frustration over the last couple of days. "Yes, sir. You're right." His voice was softer, his tone indicating that he was somewhat mollified.
"Have you told her mother?"
"Not yet. I …"
"Good. I think you need to talk to her; tell her the truth. We don't have anything yet, but tell her we're going to keep the investigation open. Maybe she'll take some comfort from that."
"Thank you, sir," the Chief Superintendent said, feeling his clenched jaws relax a bit.
"I mean it, Harold. That's not just for the mother. Some evil person killed that girl. He'll do it again, most likely, but I'll bet not here in Grenada."
"Probably so, sir, but …"
"I want you to prepare a file that can be shared through the RSS."
The Chief Superintendent frowned. The Regional Security System had been established by a treaty among the member nations of the Organization of Eastern Caribbean States. Its original intent was to facilitate the interdiction of drug smuggling.
Reading his subordinate's puzzled look, the Commissioner said, "I know. This girl probably wasn't killed by an organized crime syndicate or drug runners, but I'll call my counterparts from the other countries anyway. The RSS is a vehicle for us to use to maintain law and order in the islands. Let's see if we can make it work for us here."
The Chief Superintendent nodded. "Maybe we'll find out if there have been other killings like this."
"Right, Harold. The victim may have been chosen at random, but we should work on the assumption that her death had meaning of some sort to the killer. There was some motive; it's just beyond our understanding at the moment. Finding other unexplained killings might help us figure it out."
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
The Commissioner held the Chief Superintendent's eye for a moment. "Go talk to Mrs. Williston. Tell her as much as you think she needs to hear about our plans."
****
Seven Sisters Falls was not what the Fitzgeralds had expected. It wouldn't appear on any list of the world's most striking waterfalls, but it had charm and beauty that put it in a class of its own. After a 30-minute hike along a sometimes muddy trail through the lush, green rain forest of Grenada's Grand Etang National Park, Jane and Bill had been dazzled by the sight of the thick, foaming column of white water tumbling into the shady pool at their feet.
After hearing the sound of the falls for a good part of the hike, they were surprised that the drop wasn't greater, but Barry, their guide, explained that they were seeing only two of the seven cataracts. The others were within earshot but were out of sight, farther up the steep, heavily forested hillside. Having arrived in the middle of the afternoon when the cruise ship tours had already come and gone, they had the spot to themselves.
"I wish I'd brought a swimsuit," Jane complained.
"I'm going in my shorts," Bill said. "It looks too cool to pass up, and they'll probably dry by the time we get back to the van."
"It's late enough so there probably won't be anybody else coming. I'll just go find myself a shady spot back up the trail a little way and rest. If anybody comes, I'll give you a loud whistle," Barry suggested tactfully, sticking two fingers in his mouth to demonstrate before he turned and walked back up the trail.
"Race ya!" Jane said, giggling as she quickly stripped and made for the inviting pool.
Bill was right behind her, and when her head popped to the surface, she found herself facing him, inches away. Feeling the rocky bottom underfoot, she stepped into his embrace, tilting her head back for a kiss and closing her eyes as he wrapped himself around her. She had a momentary pang of regret before losing herself in the passion of his embrace, hoping he didn't notice her hesitation.
She needn't have worried, she realized a bit later as they stared up at the falls from where they reclined on the flat rocks at the edge of the pool. If he had noticed her reluctance, it didn't seem to have cooled his ardor. After all, she reminded herself, she had wanted this whole getaway so that she could try to forget the affair in which she'd been mired. Once again, she thanked the fates that Bill had no clue.
"It's getting chilly now that the sun's below the hilltop," Bill said, bringing her back to the present.
She rolled to the side and grasped her clothes, sorting through them as she sat up. "Guess we shouldn't press our luck," she said, sitting up and noticing that Bill was already wearing his shorts. "Did I fall asleep?" she asked.
"Just for a minute or two."
Chapter 6
Jane sat on the bowsprit, her legs dangling off either side, her feet getting splashed by the occasional errant wave. She was remembering making love to her husband yesterday at the waterfall, regretting again that she had been such an unfaithful spouse. He was a good man; he deserved better. She was determined to put the affair behind her, even if David had no intention of allowing her to do so. She banished the negative thoughts, focusing on the glory of the beautiful day and the magnificent view.
She relished the soft kiss of the breeze on her cheek as she watched the blue-green hillsides of Grenada slipping past a mile or so away. Startled by a sudden splash a few yards to her left, she turned her head in time to catch a glimpse of a dolphin streaking away through the clear, indigo-tinted water. She couldn't help herself; she laughed out loud and clapped her hands.
"Reach back and rap on the side of the bow with your knuckles," Liz said, approaching from behind her. "The sound will carry through the water. Lots of times, they'll come back and put on a show if they know you're watching." Liz bent over the lifelines and tapped her knuckles firmly against the hull to illustrate.
As she stood up, a pair of dolphins converged on the bow, one approaching from each side. They swam just below the surface, clearly visible, moving at least twice as fast as Vengeance. Like synchronized swimmers in some aquatic ballet, they crossed gracefully just beneath Jane's feet. She shrieked and clapped again as the two dolphins leapt into the air, appearing to defy gravity as they hung for a long moment before they dropped back into the water with explosive splashes, soaking Jane.
"Wow!"
"More coming," Liz said, pointing at a group of the silvery, torpedo-shaped creatures preparing to make a run at Vengeance. The impromptu show went on for a few minutes and then ended as abruptly as it had begun.
"I've never seen anything like that," Jane said.
Liz laughed at the look of childish glee that lit Jane's face.
"Why do they do that?" Jane asked.
"They won't tell anybody," Liz said, "but they do it often, and all over the ocean. It's like they enjoy the contact with us as much as we enjoy their visits. Marine biologists have invested careers trying to understand their motivation for that kind of show. They've got lots of theories, but nobody knows for sure."
"Well, they brightened up my morning, that's for sure."
"Good. Sorry if I broke the spell. I just came up to see if you wanted coffee or a glass of cold juice. I just put a pot on the stove for Bill."
"I'm okay for now, but thanks for asking. What's Bill up to?"
"Not sure, but it looks suspiciously like work to me. He's hammering away on his laptop at the chart table."
"Damn it. I wish he'd relax. He's missing all this wonderful scenery."
"There's plenty more coming, and in another hour or so, we'll begin to get some rolling motion from the swells wrapping around the north end of the island. That'll probably get him up on deck."
"Is it going to get rough?" Jane asked, frowni
ng.
"No, not rough, but we will start to roll from side to side a bit. Most people don't find it uncomfortable if they have a fixed horizon to help them maintain their equilibrium, but it's a rare soul who can focus on a computer screen below decks during that kind of ride. Either of you prone to motion sickness?"
"No, I mean … I don't think so. Is there something you can take for it, like Dramamine?"
"Yes, that works for some people. If you normally take it for motion sickness, now would be the time, before we start to rock and roll. We've got some other stuff — European — that works better, but it can make you pretty groggy. Dani and I reserve it for serious emergencies."
"Do you two get seasick?"
"Neither of us has a particular problem with it, but nearly everybody can get queasy under the right conditions. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I don't think we're going to have that kind of sea state today, but I had forgotten to ask earlier, and it's best if we know so we can plan around the sloppy spots. Vengeance is a comfortable boat at sea, but she's not steady like a cruise ship. Unless you and Bill have problems with carsickness on winding roads, you'll be fine. Just keep enjoying the view; watching the horizon works for most people."
"It's impossible not to enjoy the view. Are all the islands this pretty?"
"Yes, but they're all different, so it's not like you can rank them in terms of their beauty."
"That's a nice way to put it."
"Thanks. I'd better get back to the galley. The coffee's ready, I'm sure. Just call out if you change your mind about something to drink, or a snack."
****
Liz and Dani had sailed Vengeance into Corn Store Bay on the west side of Ronde Island, about four miles north of Grenada. Dani brought the bow into the wind and they coasted to stop about 75 yards off the rocky beach. Liz released the anchor and began to pay out the chain as Dani rolled in the slatting headsails and then scrambled forward to drop the mainsail, tying it along the boom. They stood for a moment, assessing the way Vengeance rode to the small, tightly sheeted mizzen sail which held her bow into the wind. Bill and Jane watched, admiring the well-orchestrated routine. After a moment, Dani and Liz had determined that the anchor was holding. Liz walked back to join Dani at the mainmast. They high-fived one another and stepped into the cockpit.
"How many times have you done that?" Bill asked.
"More than once, I'll bet," Jane chimed in.
"We've practiced," Dani agreed.
"There's some great snorkeling right off the bow, along that little strip of beach," Liz said, "if you want to take a quick dip while I get lunch set up."
"I'm in," Jane said. "Bill?"
"Yep."
As Liz went below to put together lunch, Dani opened one of the cockpit lockers and handed masks, flippers, and snorkels to their guests. "I'll drop the boarding ladder," she said, noticing that they were trying to work out the logistics of their adventure, "and pull the dinghy in alongside. You can climb down into the dinghy to put your gear on and then just flop over the side into the water. When you're ready to come back aboard, toss the flippers in the dinghy and climb the ladder."
"You've done this before, too," Jane said.
Dani smiled, waiting until they were in the water before she went below to help Liz set up lunch.
Ninety minutes later, Liz raised the anchor as Dani made sail, and they were soon approaching Carriacou. Bill was napping on the leeward side of the boat in a hammock stretched between the shrouds that supported the two masts, swinging gently in the shadow of the sails. Jane had resumed her perch on the bowsprit. Liz had the helm, and Dani was sitting, facing backward on the downwind cockpit seat, her back against the coachroof and her legs extended along the seat.
"Comfortable?" Liz asked, smiling as she moved the helm in a gentle, irregular motion dictated by her feel for Vengeance's rhythm.
"Yes. Sails trimmed all right?"
"Perfectly. I hardly need to steer." They enjoyed the easy motion of Vengeance in silence for a moment. "Beautiful day, great sail, nice people. It doesn't get much better."
"No," Dani agreed. "No, it doesn't."
They were quiet again as Liz studied the sails. Dani had shifted her position and was watching Jane, sitting out on the bowsprit. "You think she's okay?" Dani asked softly.
"What do you mean? She seems okay to me."
"She's got something on her mind. She's fine when she's talking with somebody, but I was watching her this morning, before the dolphins came. She was somewhere else, and I think she's gone again now."
Liz pondered that. As well as she knew Dani, it still surprised her when her friend showed that kind of insight into other peoples' moods. "Maybe. Or maybe that's just how she is when she's relaxed."
"I don't think so. There's something not quite right between those two."
"Doctor Berger, the marriage counselor," Liz chuckled. "What would you and I know about marriage, anyway?"
"I studied it from an early age; remember how many stepmothers I had? I've seen this before. Everything's rosy in Bill's world, and he's a doting husband. She's working at it, but something's off-kilter there. Maybe this cruise is what she needs to sort it out."
Chapter 7
At first, Gerry Smithson couldn't figure out what he was seeing. He thought the predawn light was playing tricks on his eyes. He was on his way down to the town dock. He was ready for a day of fishing, but now he was curious. He paused as he was passing the entrance to the churchyard, noticing the gate was open. "Don't mean nothin'," he muttered to himself. "Young'uns messin' 'round in the graveyard, mos' likely."
He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his eyes as he strained to make out the shadowy form leaning against the side of the church. He stepped through the gate, committed now to see what it was. After a couple of paces, the shadows shifted enough for him to make out the cross that the pastor had been working on recently. Gerry and his partner had salvaged the lumber from an old wreck on the northeast corner of the island and the pastor had been planing and sanding the rough, weathered timbers, cutting mortises at the junction of the two pieces and fitting it together like a fine piece of furniture.
"It mus' be as perfect as man can make, you see," the pastor had explained to Gerry late yesterday afternoon as they shared a six-pack of cold Carib in the pastor's side yard, where the cross was resting on sawhorses.
Gerry had run his gnarled, callused fingers over the satin-like surface of the freshly sanded teak. "Like a piece of furniture," he had marveled, remembering the barnacle encrusted, waterlogged timber that he and his fishing partner had dragged up to the pastor's place a few weeks ago.
"Furniture for the Lord's house, Gerry."
"When you be finished?"
"What the hurry, mon? No rush. Be finished when the Lord tell me it's finished."
Gerry wondered why the pastor had brought the cross here during the night. Certainly, the Lord wouldn't have told him it was finished already.
As he got closer, he realized the cross didn't look right; somebody had wrapped rags around it, or something. It was very dark after he rounded the corner of the church. He stretched out a hand, running it along the part of the cross that was closest to him. He felt something sticky, clammy. He stepped closer, feeling his way along the arm of the cross until he drew back in shock. "Jesus, Lord!" he yelped, as he realized there was a man's body on the cross.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and reached in his pocket, fumbling for the disposable butane lighter he carried. He didn't smoke, but a man needed to be able to make a fire. He flicked the lighter and extended his arm toward the cross, studying the form that was revealed in the flickering yellow glow from the lighter.
"Selwyn?" he said, recognizing the man. When there was no response, he shifted the lighter to his left hand and touched Selwyn's face with his thick, clumsy fingers. Selwyn's skin was decidedly cool, and he wasn't breathing.
Gerry extinguished the lighter and thought about what he sho
uld do. He decided the pastor would know best, so he turned and walked back out of the churchyard. As he paused to close the gate, he looked back at the cross leaning against the side of the church. The sun wasn't up yet, but there was enough light by now for him to see that he hadn't imagined Selwyn on the cross.
He latched the gate and began walking toward the center of the village of Ashton. He would come to the pastor's house before he reached the town dock where his partner would be waiting. The pastor had a phone, and Gerry's partner had one of those cell phones, so he could call to say he'd be late for their day of fishing.
****
It was not yet midmorning when Vengeance rounded the north end of Carriacou on a broad reach. Everyone had been awake early, ready for Liz's strong coffee and a simple breakfast. After their stop at Ronde Island yesterday, they had anchored off Petite Martinique in the middle of the afternoon. Liz had ferried Jane and Bill ashore, giving them a few hours to explore on their own before she picked them up for a sunset dinner in the cockpit. The night had been quiet, and everyone had gone to bed early. They had all slept soundly, lulled by the soft song of the wind in the rigging and the gentle rocking of Vengeance as she rode to her anchor in the shelter of the island a few hundred yards away.
Dani jibed the boat, changing from a starboard tack to a port tack by steering to bring the stern through the wind when she judged that they would be able to clear Gun Point on the north end of Carriacou on their new course. She and Liz trimmed the sails as they got Vengeance settled on a new course that would keep them out far enough so that the hills wouldn't block the wind until they passed Jack-A-Dan Island, the little rock that marked the entrance to Hillsborough Bay.
"You make this all look so easy," Bill remarked. He sat in the cockpit with Liz and Dani, sipping coffee from a steaming mug and staying out of their way as he watched them work Vengeance. Jane was once again in her favorite spot on the bowsprit, alone with her thoughts.
"It's not that complicated," Liz said. "People have been sailing for thousands of years. It's only difficult until you get yourself in tune with the boat and the forces that she responds to."
Bluewater Stalker: The Sixth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 6) Page 4