Bluewater Voodoo: Mystery and Adventure in the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 3)

by Charles Dougherty

  Bluewater Voodoo

  C.L.R. Dougherty

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  Copyright 2012

  Charles L. R. Dougherty

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  Table of Contents

  Bluewater Voodoo

  The Windward and Leeward Islands

  Guadeloupe to St. Lucia

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Read a preview of Bluewater Ice, the next book in the series.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Note to the Reader

  About C.L.R. Dougherty

  Other Books by C.L.R. Dougherty

  The Windward and Leeward Islands

  Guadeloupe to St. Lucia

  Chapter 1

  Dani had a distant look on her face as Liz joined her in Vengeance’s cockpit. She took in Liz’s raised eyebrows and said, "When he undressed me with his eyes at the airport, I could feel that rush again. It’s going to be hard to behave, living in such a small space with him for the whole summer." She took a careful taste of coffee, holding the mug in both hands to still her anxious tremor.

  Liz suppressed a smile as she took a sip of her café au lait. She set her cup on the cockpit table and gazed around the anchorage, giving Dani time to collect herself. She watched the seagull that was circling as it looked for the glint of bait fish in the early morning light. "I didn’t think he was your type. Besides, he’s taken."

  "What?" Dani frowned. "Taken? What are you talking about?"

  "Lilly – his graduate assistant. I think they’re a couple."

  "Yeah, no doubt there. Miss Anthropology, in her string bikini. If she’s his graduate assistant, I’m Mother Teresa," Dani muttered. "And if she steps on my teak deck again with those sling-back heels, I’ll break her knees."

  "I don’t think she’ll make that mistake again after your reaction yesterday." Liz paused, taking another sip of coffee and watching the seagull plummet into the water and emerge with a fish in its beak. Suddenly, there was a flock of the screeching birds, fighting over the fish. "I’m surprised that you find him so attractive."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Your ‘rush’ that you felt when he looked at you."

  There was a long silence as Dani stared at Liz, a frown on her face. Then a flush spread over her cheeks as she grasped what Liz was thinking.

  "Not that kind of rush! I meant the kind of rush I get right before the first punch. I just about kicked his ass before he ever got aboard."

  A worried look crossed Liz’s face. She picked up the carafe and poured more coffee into her cup. "Get a grip, Dani. Beating up our charter guests would be bad for business."

  "Yeah, but then handing me his suitcase and saying, ‘Here, hon, stow this, like a good girl…’ Grrr! Like we’re his hired help!"

  "But we are, Dani. He’s chartered Vengeance for the whole summer, and you thought it was a great deal."

  "I was excited to have the business in the off-season, but I didn’t know we were going to have to humor such a shithead."

  Their discussion was interrupted when the ‘shithead’ came out of the companionway to join them in the cockpit.

  "Morning, girls! How are the two hottest sailors in the Caribbean this morning?"

  "Fine, thanks, Dr. Johnson," Liz said, rising quickly to her feet and stepping between Dani and their guest. "What would you and Lilly like for breakfast?" She sensed a sudden movement behind her and stepped down hard on Dani’s foot.

  "Ow!" Dani shrieked, giving Liz a hard shove and standing up. "Watch it!"

  "Sorry, skipper! You need a hand with the anchor before I start breakfast?"

  "I..." Dani said, before their guest cut her off.

  "It’s a pretty morning, and Lilly’s sleeping in. I’ll just have some coffee with you girls and enjoy the view – we don’t really need to leave this morning. Lilly saw an ad for an art gallery in St. Georges that she wants to check out. You know women and their shopping." He smirked as he sat on one of the cockpit cushions, offering Dani an exaggerated wink.

  "Do you still want to leave Grenada today, then?" Dani bit off the words through clenched teeth.

  "No, I don’t think so. What difference does it make, babe?" he asked, with a toothy grin.

  "Well, based on your last email, I cleared us with customs for an early departure this morning. If we’re not leaving in the next 12 hours, I need to go ashore and revise that. No big problem. Just let me know."

  He nodded, gazing at Dani, his eyes crawling over her lithe figure. After a moment, he said, "That’s a pain in the ass, isn’t it? Sorry – I’ve been back in the States too long, I guess. I forgot how self-important the guys with epaulettes can be. I’ll try to do better, if you can fix it this time, Dani. Let’s figure on leaving tomorrow morning. Poor Lilly is beat from the trip."

  Liz glared at Dani in an unspoken warning and shook her head slightly.

  Dani pulled her lips into a smile that stopped below her eyes. "No problem. You’re the boss. You just let me worry about the guys with epaulettes, Dr. Johnson."

  "Great! I like your, uh, attitude, babe. It’s gonna be a long summer and we’re living in close quarters. Might as well dispense with the formality. Why don’t you and Liz just call me ‘Professor,’ like the other kids do?"

  "You got it, Professor," Liz said, pouring his coffee while continuing to hold Dani’s eye, shaking her head again.

  ****

  The unkempt white man was propped in the corner of the room like a discarded marionette. Several weeks’ worth of scraggly beard covered the lower part of his face, and his long, greasy hair was matted and tangled. His sunken, glazed eyes were open, but he stared blankly, seeing nothing of his surroundings. Every few seconds, an involuntary tremor passed through his body, occasionally accompanied by the chattering of his teeth as he writhed against the walls
. He was oblivious to his surroundings, aware only of a sense of inner turmoil. Visions flickered through his mind; visions like those accompanying a high fever took the place of conscious thought. The images were fleeting, disconnected. He couldn’t focus on any particular one long enough to react to it, but the overall impact was an overpowering sense of doom and nothingness. He saw bamboo and the open sea, tormented animals and beautiful women, yachts under sail and seascapes, beaches. All flashed through his mind in no particular order and without evoking any individual response. None of the images meant anything to him, yet they were his entire reality; there was nothing else.

  The other two men in the room sat at a rough table, jelly glasses of neat rum in front of them. A kerosene lantern in the middle of the table provided soft, yellow light that seemed to enhance the shadows rather than providing illumination. The wick was imperfectly trimmed, and wisps of oily smoke spiraled from the chimney, lending a tangy, greasy flavor to the otherwise fetid air in the room. One man drained his glass, suppressing a belch, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He watched a large moth fluttering around the lantern for a moment, then struck with the agility of a viper, catching the moth between thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He studied the struggling, inch-and-a -half long creature while his companion finished his drink and set his glass on the table with a thump.

  "Come," the man with the moth said, in a tone slightly louder than normal speech.

  The white man in the corner shrugged, shaking his head and attaining some semblance of awareness. He shuffled awkwardly over to the table, standing loose-limbed, waiting.

  "Eat," said the man with the moth, in the same unnatural tone.

  The white man opened his mouth, pulling his lips away from rotten, crooked, yellow teeth. He extended his tongue. The man placed the crippled moth firmly on the white man’s tongue and nodded. The white man drew his tongue back into his mouth, drooling as he made clumsy chewing motions. Finished chewing, he swallowed with some difficulty and stood gazing blankly at the flickering lantern.

  "Rum," said the man. The white man shuffled over to a shelf in the part of the room that served as a kitchen. He stood for a moment, waiting for another tremor to pass, and then he picked up an unlabeled bottle of clear liquid. He turned and shuffled back to the table, carrying the bottle carefully with both hands. Without further instructions, he poured two fingers of liquid into each man’s glass. Resuming his two-handed grip on the bottle, he stood back slightly.

  "Put the rum back," his master ordered, and he shuffled away. He returned the bottle to the precise spot on the counter where he had found it, and then stood, motionless except for the occasional tremor, staring fixedly at the bottle.

  "Amazing," the heretofore silent man said, shaking his head with admiration. "I thought they were supposed to smell bad, like a rotten corpse, or something."

  The human smiled briefly. "That had a purpose, in the old days. Now, it would do nothing but attract attention. American television and movies -- harrumph! They know nothing."

  "Where did he come from?"

  "You mean, before?" the houngan asked.

  "Yes, before."

  "Some fishermen found him, clinging to a lobster pot float, miles out to sea."

  "And how did you get him, houngan?"

  "He was unconscious, and the fishermen could not wake him, so they brought him to me to care for. When he came to, he was like a rabid dog; he was a danger to all the people in the bateye, and we could not go to the authorities." The houngan smiled sadly. "So, finally…"

  "And how long does it take to do this, this…"

  "To make the zombie?" the houngan asked.

  "Yes, I guess he is a zombie, isn’t he?"

  "What else would one call this thing, but zombie? It takes some days with the potion. First, to sleep for some long time, and then to adjust the amount, I think you would say. And then there is some time for training, teaching. Comprenez-vous?"

  "Yes, I see. So the time varies, then?"

  "Yes. Let us say, perhaps three weeks. This one, I have had for two months, no more. You must see; this is not magic after all. It is medicine. Nothing more."

  "And are they dangerous? Will they eat people, like in the movies?"

  The houngan shook his head, chuckling. "The movies. Pah! How can something without a mind be dangerous? It is dangerous like the gun is dangerous, maybe, or like the knife. It is an obedient creature. In the hands of the bad person, the evil master, the zombie will do evil, but it is the master’s evil. If you tell it to eat a person, then it will do that. Comprenez-vous?"

  "Yes, I see what you mean. And how long will they live?"

  "How long would you wish this creature to live? If you tell it to eat, to clean itself, do not allow it to harm itself, it will live until it dies from the age like you, or like me."

  "And if you stop the potion? What happens then?"

  "Then the zombie will be less obedient. The master controls it because of the potion."

  "So how long will it take to recover, after you stop the potion?"

  "No, my friend, it is not like that. There is no recover. That first potion, the one which produces the state like death, that one destroys some of the parts of the brain, maybe, the nervous system, I think it is. Always, this creature will have no mind after that first trance. The later potions, they satisfy some craving, so that the creature will obey in order to get the potion. Without the master, and the potion to make it obey, the creature will die from not eating. It is that simple, you see. The master, he has some large responsibility for keeping the creature alive. But, of course, in many ways, it seems no longer to be human, so some people think it does not matter if it lives or dies."

  ****

  Dani brought the dinghy alongside the ladder on the seawall in the Carénage. Liz scrambled ashore with a mooring line in hand, holding the dinghy steady while Lilly and the professor climbed the ladder.

  "That’s Young Street, right across the road," Liz said, pointing. "If you just walk up the hill a couple of blocks, the gallery you’re looking for will be on the left side of the street. Almost straight across from it, there’s the place I told you about with all the hand-printed fabric. If you want lunch ashore, any of these places along the Carénage will feed you well. When you’re ready for a pick-up, just call Vengeance on channel 16 on the handheld radio, and one of us will zip in and pick you up."

  "Got it, Liz! Thanks," Lilly said, a pleasant smile on her face.

  Liz stepped back into the dinghy, and she and Dani headed for the Customs office at the Grenada Yacht Club to change their departure schedule.

  "Good morning, Captain!" the customs officer greeted Dani as she and Liz walked into his office. "Back so soon?"

  "Well, our guests decided to stay and go shopping," Dani explained.

  "Shopping is a good t’ing. We like for our visitors to go shopping," he said, smiling. "How long before you leave us?"

  "Tomorrow morning."

  "Well then, let’s not do all the paperwork again for just a few hours. Let me just write a note on your clearance documents, okay?" He stretched out his hand for the paperwork.

  "Great! Thanks," Dani said, as he returned the documents.

  "No problem, Captain. Bon voyage, and come back soon."

  Liz and Dani walked into the open-air bar at the Yacht Club and sat down at a table, pausing first at the bar to order tea and biscuits.

  "Okay, Dani," Liz said. "Take a deep breath and relax. You can do this. Remember when you told me that some charterers were easier company than others?"

  "Yeah, but…"

  "Well," Liz interrupted, holding up a hand, palm toward her friend. "Look at it this way. Once this summer is over, things will be wonderful. We’re getting our quota of ‘bad’ out of the way all at once."

  "That’s for sure," Dani agreed, a rueful grin splitting her face. "Just keep me from killing him and everything will be all right. You’re right about Lilly. I might even like
her if she had better taste in men."

  "Oh, she says he’s not half as bad as he seems. Apparently, he’s one of the foremost authorities on Voodoo as a religion. She was telling me about her thesis – they met because he’s the advisor for her Ph.D. program. She’s studying the melding of the whole group of West African tribal religions that happened in the Caribbean in the early colonial era with the forced conversion to Catholicism. She’s really into it, too. Her enthusiasm is contagious."

  "That does sound like more fun than what we studied," Dani said. "I can’t believe I ever wanted to be an investment banker."

  "Yeah. I know. I should have studied art but my father wanted me to get some credentials that would help me support myself."

  "Sailing’s a better way to make a living," Dani said, taking a sip of tea, inhaling the aroma of the slice of fresh, local lemon that garnished her saucer.

  "Even if we have to put up with the professor?" Liz asked, a gleam in her eye.

  "Even so," Dani agreed. "At least he brought a girlfriend. Imagine having to dodge that slimeball’s advances all summer if we didn’t have Lilly to keep him busy."

  Liz smiled, happy to see Dani recovering her normal cynical but composed demeanor, and they both burst into a fit of giggles.

  Chapter 2

  Martinez sat on a park bench in Lincoln Road Mall, watching the show. No matter how often he came here or how long he sat, he was always amazed at the variety exhibited by the human species. He never tired of people-watching, and nowhere was the people-watching better than at Miami’s South Beach. He tore his eyes from a stunning Latina in an almost invisible string bikini and six-inch spike heels. She strutted behind a pit bull on a rhinestone-studded leash. The dog was wearing sunglasses and a fedora, and the girl was wreathed in a thick cloud of blue smoke from a big cigar, which was clamped firmly in one side of her mouth. Inhaling her second-hand smoke as she swiveled by, her hips gyrating inches from his nose, he checked his watch, wondering where Tonio was.

  He suppressed a cough from the cigar smoke and looked up to see Tonio standing on the corner of the cross street, watching the girl with an exaggerated leer. Martinez picked up his neatly folded newspaper and rose to his feet, ambling toward the corner where Tonio still stood. Tonio was gazing at some new diversion, apparently oblivious to Martinez. As Martinez drew close to him, Tonio turned and began to walk along the sidewalk of the cross street, heading south, away from Lincoln Road Mall. Martinez followed a few paces behind him. After a short distance, the pedestrian traffic had thinned. Tonio stopped, leaning against the fender of a black Mercedes sedan and making a production of lighting a cigar. Once satisfied with the evenly glowing tip, he resumed his stroll. Martinez recognized the Mercedes by its diplomatic plates. As he drew level with the back bumper of the car, the rear passenger door opened into his path. He got into the car without hesitation, closing the door gently as the car pulled smoothly away from the curb.