Murder Caribbean-Style (High Seas Mystery Series Book 1)

by Diane Rapp

  Kayla darted a suspicious glance at him. “If it’s in the water we’re out of luck. After all this rain, I don’t see how we can go near the river.”

  “No. It wouldn’t be advisable.” Genny pointed at the raging river that was a lazy stream during their last visit. “The ravine can’t take much more water.”

  “Let’s go.” Steven started up the path.

  Kayla followed. The smell of fresh rain mingled with the honey-sweet scent of wild jasmine. The forest hummed with activity. A scarlet and black red-rim bird fluttered among the brilliant white blossoms of a snow-on-the-mountaintop bush, while a yellow and black zebra butterfly dried its wings on the waxy emerald leaf of a giant philodendron.

  “Genny, tell us what you remember about the hike as we walk,” Kayla prompted.

  “The honeymooners stayed behind me, kissing and giggling, while you and Emily walked behind them and Patrick tromped along at the rear. I cut a piece of cinnamon bark—this is the tree where I get the bark—and encouraged each person to smell it and chew a piece.”

  Steven fingered a curly piece of bark. “Did Patrick take a taste?” he asked.

  Genny shook her head. “No. Patrick acted gloomy, hung back and wouldn’t even sniff the cinnamon.”

  “You’re right,” Kayla agreed. “I remember thinking he could use a bit of spicing up as he acted so sour.”

  The ground felt spongy and slick as they climbed through a soggy carpet of leaves. Stray droplets sprinkled from vines arching high overhead as Kayla glanced at Steven. His sultry eyes studied her from a safe distance; his lips pressed into a tight line as eerie shadows flickered across his face.

  “Got any snakes around here, Genny?” Steven asked. He stepped over the thick buttress-root of a burr tree that resembled the writhing green back of an enormous prehistoric reptile.

  “No snakes or alligators,” Genny said. “Insects and birds but nothing lethal.”

  “How about poisonous plants?” Steven asked.

  Genny shrugged. “Not around here. The fruit from the manchaneel tree is deadly but it’s found near the seashore.”

  Steven nodded. “I know about that one, looks like a small green apple.”

  “Every tour guide in the Caribbean warns people about the manchaneel,” Genny agreed. “It thrives in ocean salt spray like sea grape trees. In the forest we’ve got strange smelling pods of stinking toe and termite nests hang like tumors from host trees. They’re nothing to worry about.”

  Steven wiped sweat from his forehead. “Did Patrick wear his safari jacket on the hike?”

  “No.” Kayla rubbed her sweating forehead. “It felt hot and muggy so Patrick carried his jacket on the hike to the gorge.”

  Genny nodded. “Swimming the gorge gives everyone a chill. Patrick put on his jacket for the walk back to the van.”

  “The jacket was a status symbol to Patrick,” Kayla said. “He posed in it, looking like the great white hunter.”

  Genny laughed. “He’d forget which pocket held his sunglasses or bug spray.”

  They turned the bend and heard a hollow rumble that vibrated ominously through the forest. Genny nodded ahead. “We’re approaching the entrance to the gorge.”

  Kayla gasped. Foaming white waves gushed from the mouth of the grotto, spewing foam over banks that had seemed high just a week ago. She said, “Emily and I took the first swim. When we started, the water was only knee-high, and we swam against a mild current into the cavern.”

  Steven’s eyebrow arched. “What did Patrick do?”

  “He stripped down to his swimsuit and sunned himself on that rock outcropping.” Kayla pointed to a large black boulder that stood just a few feet away from the crest of the raging river. “He joined the second group of swimmers when we got back.”

  Steven tapped a finger against his lips. “Where did he put his clothes?”

  Genny examined the scene. “He draped his pants and shirt over the tallest rock.” She pointed. “I’d say it was that rock.”

  “Yes,” Kayla agreed. “When we returned from swimming, he was stretched out in the sun.”

  “What’d he do with the jacket?” Steven asked.

  “He used it like a pillow on the flat rock,” Kayla said. She climbed onto the rock and peered into the cracks. “Genny, did you see Patrick eat anything or use his knife after we arrived at this spot?”

  “No. We ate lunch at Tony’s. I didn’t offer anyone a snack until we started back down the path to the van. I handed Patrick a piece of papaya and—” Genny choked on her words.

  Kayla said, “It’s difficult to think about his death, but imagine you’re solving a complicated puzzle. Look for the knife. Maybe he dropped it undressing.”

  As Genny bent to examine a section of ground, Steven approached the rock where Kayla stood. His narrow gaze turned steely and the grim set of his jaw looked dangerous. She backed away.

  “What’s wrong?” he snapped. “You’re looking at me like I’m Jack the Ripper, ready to strike!”

  She swallowed hard. “I called Duncan—found out that you flew into Dominica the morning Patrick was killed.”

  He grimaced. “So you decided I’m a dangerous killer?”

  Her heart wrenched at his hurt expression. “Well…what was I supposed to think? You lied to me!”

  “An undercover cop doesn’t tell suspects his every move.” Steven brushed a stray lock of sweaty auburn hair from his forehead.

  “Suspect!” she huffed. “You said that you ruled me out as a suspect. Was that another lie?”

  He shook his head. “No. We joined forces and decided to trust each other. Is that why you rebuffed me last night? You thought I was a killer?”

  Kayla crossed her arms defensively, fighting a desire to bury her face in his shoulder, and stared at her muddy hiking boots. “Why’d you come to Dominica on Wednesday?”

  “I followed Patrick, hoped he’d lead us to his drug connections. When it became obvious he was merely playing tourist, I broke off the tail. Your group stopped for lunch and I drove to police headquarters. Call the Chief Inspector and verify my alibi if you like.” He held out his cell phone. “I was sitting in his office when the emergency call came in.”

  Kayla relaxed her shoulders, dropping her hands to rest on her hips. “I believe you.”

  “You sure?” His eyes issued a challenge and his lips tightened.

  She balled her fists.

  They stood glaring at each other like two gunfighters waiting for someone to make the first move.

  “Kayla,” Genny’s voice sliced through the tension. “We’ve got company.”

  “Oh, shit!” Steven hissed as he turned.

  Genny raised her hands in response to the metallic glimmer of the gun pointed at them. Kayla felt spray from the gorge on the back of her bare legs.

  “You couldn’t let it rest, could you?” a harsh voice demanded.

  “Bryanne,” Kayla said. “What are you doing here?”

  Tears trickled down Bryanne’s gaunt cheeks, and deep hollows accented her high cheekbones and large brown eyes. She nervously licked cracked lips, trying to hold the gun steady.

  “You believe that I killed Patrick! Aunt Jillian said you asked questions about the trust fund. You think I’d kill him over money?”

  Garrison joined his sister. “Tell them the whole story, Bree. It’s worth a try.”

  Her eyes looked wild, frantic. “No! He’s a cop and she’s sleeping with him. Why should they listen to me?”

  Steven moved forward. Bryanne swung the gun and pointed it at him, clutching it in both hands.

  “Don’t!” Kayla shouted. She stepped forward into a hole in the rock and fell with a startled cry.

  “She’s hurt!” Steven exclaimed.

  “Stay where you are!” Bryanne shouted. Brandishing the weapon, she stared at them with a bewildered expression. “Gary, see if she’s okay.”

  Gary helped Kayla stand and probed her leg. “She wrenched her ankle,” he said. To Kayl
a he whispered, “Help me calm her down! She’s been acting crazier every day.”

  Smelling Gary’s spicy cologne, Kayla said, “You attacked me on Grenada!”

  “Sorry.” His dark brown eyes pleaded for forgiveness. “Bree said it would scare you off but it didn’t work. Your visit to Jillian sent her into a rage. She says you’ll frame us for Patrick’s murder.”

  “Don’t talk to her, Gary, she’s the enemy!” Bryanne shouted, “Move away from her, now!”

  “Bree, stop it,” Gary said, walking toward his sister. “We didn’t come here to hurt anyone.”

  “Kayla stopped me when I tried to throw Patrick’s knife overboard.”

  “That was Patrick’s knife?” Kayla asked, trying to ignore her throbbing ankle.

  “No! I told you it was a copy. Patrick gave it to me, but you still don’t believe me.”

  “Tell her, Bree,” Gary said. “Patrick tried to kill you!”

  “What?” Kayla stared in disbelief.

  Bryanne frowned. “I always used the tweezers from Patrick’s knife to pluck my eyebrows. Jillian carried a toothpick to clean her teeth just like Patrick. He joked about them having the same habit. He had two knives tainted with toxin, gave one to me and tried to give one to Aunt Jillian. He wanted to kill both of us!”

  Steven said, “But you were immune to the poison.”

  She nodded. “Patrick learned about the toxin from a nature film. Talking about it reminded me too much of my mother’s death, so I didn’t tell him about my immunity.”

  Garrison said, “Tell them Patrick’s plan.”

  Tears streamed down Bryanne’s face. “When we were lovers, Patrick joked about killing my rich aunt so I could inherit her money. At least I thought he was joking until he hatched a plan to kill her with Poison Dart Frog toxin. I said I’d rather wait to inherit my money. We argued and he called me stupid!”

  Bryanne released one hand from the gun to brush damp hair from her face. As the barrel dipped, Steven edged closer.

  “When Jillian visited the ship, Patrick swooped in like a vulture. He seduced my aunt and broke off our engagement. I felt devastated but knew it wouldn’t last long. He’d drop her when he got money from her, just like those other rich women. But Jillian created a trust for the orphanage and put Patrick in charge of the money.”

  “Revenge makes a pretty good motive for murder,” Steven muttered.

  “No! Jillian wrote a new will every year. It was her way of getting people to kiss up to her. We knew she’d change her will again. Patrick knew it too. He said, ‘This is the big one, Bree. Help me kill the old cow before she changes her mind and we’ll share the riches!’”

  “And you went along?” Steven asked.

  “No! Jillian always did right by Gary and me. We didn’t need to kill her.”

  “You saw Patrick break into the lock box in Barbados?” Kayla asked, diverting Bryanne’s attention from Steven’s slow forward progress.

  Bryanne nodded. “I didn’t understand why he did it until I read about that man dying from Poison Dart Frog toxin. Then I knew Patrick might kill Aunt Jillian if I didn’t stop him.”

  Kayla kept her gaze steady as Steven inched closer. “Why didn’t you give the poisoned knife to the police? It was evidence of his plan.”

  Bryanne swiped at tears, bobbling the gun. “I didn’t think! He presented it to Aunt Jillian like a trophy and I felt furious! When I shoved that knife back into his pocket, I saw the anger in his face. I knew I’d won…kept him from killing Jillian…he hated me for it, but I save her!”

  “You knew how to pick pockets. Did you exchange the good knife for the tainted one?” Kayla asked.

  Bryanne’s eyes widened. “No! Patrick was beaten! I didn’t want him dead!”

  “What happened to the good knife, the one we saw him use that day?” Kayla asked.

  “I don’t know!” Bryanne’s eyes looked wild.

  Kayla said. “Then put down the gun and help find the second knife. It must be somewhere around here. We can prove Patrick had two knives and planned to kill with one of them.”

  “No! It’s a trick. I’ll be arrested for murdering Patrick. It’s over, all over.” She steadied the gun in both hands.

  Gary pleaded, “No, Bree. We’ll find Patrick’s knife and prove you’re innocent.”

  Kayla’s mind raced. She remembered the scene at the restaurant when Bryanne shoved the knife into Patrick’s jacket pocket. After failing to get a taxi, he climbed into the back seat of the van and draped the jacket over the seat. When she boarded the van after lunch, she saw Patrick sullenly picking his teeth with a white toothpick.

  No one stole the good knife! It was in his pants pocket and fell out when he undressed. Chilled after the swim, he donned his jacket and used the tainted knife from the jacket pocket without thinking. Patrick tried to murder Jillian but his plan backfired!

  Kayla started to tell Bree that she believed her story when Steven grabbed at the gun. Bryanne jerked and the gun fired.

  The bullet’s impact knocked Kayla back, like a marionette yanked by its strings, and her body slammed into cold water. Breath burst from her lungs. Turbulent water blasted from the mouth of the swollen gorge and dragged her under.

  Damn! My heavy hiking boots are pulling me down. How can I swim?

  Tumbling downstream, Kayla kicked to reach the surface and gulped air before the current sucked her under. The churning white water catapulted her body downstream. Which way is up? Slamming against a boulder, Kayla kicked against the hard rock and propelled herself to the top for another gasp.

  Does this river lead to a waterfall?

  Tumbling through foaming rapids, she smashed against rocks, surfaced for air, and sank again. Fear clawed her chest. Each breath was a battle of ebbing strength, one that became harder to fight with each gulp. She felt battered, cold, and weak.

  What an idiot I’ve been! How could I doubt Steven? He’s a good man who really loves me, nothing like Patrick!

  Crashing against a raised bank, she clawed frantically at grass and roots, but lost her grip as the current dragged her back into the torrent. Lungs screaming for air, she gulped a mixture of watery air and choked.

  Why keep fighting? It would be easy to give up, drift with the current, and let my life ebb away.

  Another body slammed against hers and strong hands gripped her elbow and shoulder. Pain exploded from the bullet wound in her shoulder and she whimpered. The hands clutched her tight as he tugged against the current, dragging her through the water.

  Hope flickered. Steven came to rescue me!

  In desperation she kicked, trying to help him swim but her efforts just hampered his progress. She yielded to his strength and felt him drag her toward the shore. Kayla’s fingers gratefully sank into mud as they reached the river’s edge, and she felt other hands grapple with her slippery body. Heaving her onto the grassy bank, she gagged, spewing water from burning lungs until she gulped air.

  “Kayla, darling. Are you all right?” Steven gently wiped hair out of her eyes.

  “No! That little twit shot me! It hurts like hell!” she said between gasps. Swiping mud across her face, she looked at him. “Why are you dry? I thought you saved me.”

  He shrugged. “Gary dove into the river straight away and swam after you like a fiend. I’m not a stronger swimmer, so I bolted headlong down the shoreline, hoping to grab you from an overhanging limb. Like a fool, I lost sight of you. It was terrible! I still had all those bloody foul balls to hit, but I’d lost you.”

  “You don’t have to hit any more balls. I’ll marry you. Quit talking about baseball and kiss me.”

  He obeyed, wrapping her tightly in his arms. “I was so frightened, Kayla,” he murmured. “I’ll never let you go, never!”

  The sound of his voice faded as sizzling bubbles hammered her ears and the sky turned black. Drifting in a hazy dream world, Kayla heard the thud, thud, thud of a helicopter. Was it coming to fetch Patrick’s body lying dead at h
er feet? No, his body was gone.

  Kayla looked up and saw Patrick leaning against a flamboyant tree with red blossoms that glowed and flickered like flames. The golden snake from Patrick’s knife was draped over his shoulder. It raised its head and stared at her with cold black eyes.

  “You’re dead! This isn’t real,” she mumbled. Thinking about all the guilt she’d suffered over Patrick’s death, anger flared in her heart. “You were going to murder that poor woman! You smiled after you handed Jillian your knife at the restaurant, and I should’ve known you were up to no good, looking so pleased with yourself.”

  He said, “Bryanne botched it all, the stupid cow.”

  “Bryanne loved her aunt.”

  He scowled. “Yeah, she loved Jillian more than she loved me! You once loved me more than life, Kayla. Are you ready to join me now?”

  “Me?”

  “It’s easy, just take my hand.” He stretched out his hand and she flinched. “I almost convinced you to give up. You were in the river, ready to join me, until that bloody Gary interfered.” His smile twisted and he stared with black eyes, like the snake.

  “Go to hell!” she shouted.

  “Already done, lass. Won’t you join me?”

  “No!” She shook her head. “You made the choices that ruined your life, not me, so stop interfering with mine! I love Steven. Go away!”

  “Suit yourself.” The flamboyant tree transformed into a red-hot pillar of fire. As Patrick turned and walked into the flame, she felt the heat lick her face.

  “Get me out of here,” she moaned. Turning her face into the cool linen of a white pillowcase, she nuzzled the fabric. It smelled of bleach and sunlight.

  “You want to leave us so soon?” a woman’s voice asked.

  Kayla opened her eyes. A plump black nurse, wearing an old-fashioned starched uniform and stiff white cap, shook a thermometer and stuck it into Kayla’s mouth.

  “You’re much better. Doctor will be here soon.” The nurse touched Kayla’s wrist with cool fingers and timed the pulse with a watch pinned to her uniform. She nodded then snatched the thermometer.

  “Where’s Steven?” Kayla’s voice sounded raspy.

  “Your handsome young gent’s been hovering around here for hours, bound to be back any minute. See?” The nurse read the thermometer and gestured at the doorway.