Death by Bikini

by Linda Gerber

  I stepped over the landing skid and ducked to peer under the belly of the chopper, where Frank bent over the securing line, threading it through a mooring anchor. “Listen! Those ropes won’t hold if the wind gets as strong as you say. She’ll tip right over. You should get back to the city, where you can dock in a nice, safe hangar. And take my dad with you.”

  He sat back on his heels and frowned at me, shaking his head. “Wish I could, darlin’, but I can’t. Wouldn’t be safe.”

  “But he needs help!”

  “Give me a minute. I finish tyin’ her down, and I’m all yours. We’ll think of somethin’.”

  Instinctively I knew I didn’t have a minute. “Meet me down there,” I shouted, and took off back down the hill.

  I’m not ashamed to admit I was scared. As angry as I’d been with Dad, the thought of losing him was too much to bear. I didn’t even know what was wrong with him, but judging from the worry I had seen on Darlene’s face, whatever it was, it was serious.

  I had just made it to the bottom of the hill when I stopped dead in my tracks, my stomach turning to ice. Mr. Watts stomped up the path toward me, water streaming down his face. He was clearly not happy. “Miss! A word with you!”

  “I’m sorry! Emergency!”

  I tried to run by him, but he caught up with me and grabbed my arm. Tight. He narrowed his black eyes at me. “No more games. I need to speak to your father.”

  It took every ounce of control I had to keep from shrieking and running back to Frank. “I’m sorry, Mr. Watts, but my father is very ill. So if you will excuse me—”

  “Perhaps I could be of some assistance,” he said. His fingers tightened, digging into my skin.

  I shivered. No way was that man getting anywhere near my dad. “Mr. Watts, please. Go back inside.”

  “I haven’t been inside. I’ve been hiking all over the property looking for your father, thanks to you. And now you say he’s sick—”

  “He is sick. And I’m busy. Excuse me.”

  But Watts wouldn’t take no for an answer. He followed me to the Plantation House. I planned to run inside and lock the door on him, but Darlene was in the way.

  “Hello again, Mr. . . .”

  “Watts. I was just telling the girl here that I have some field training, if you’d like me to take a look at Mr. Connolly.”

  I desperately shook my head no, but Darlene didn’t see me. She went limp with relief.

  “Oh, thank you.” She pumped his hand, pulling him inside. “Jack’s not doing too good. Maybe you could help us get him back up to the chopper, yeah?”

  “Frank says no,” I said. “He says the winds are too strong.”

  “But—”

  “I know. I told him what you said, but he still says he can’t fly until the storm passes.” I looked beyond her. “Where is he?”

  “In his office. Come on.”

  We tracked mud across the lobby.

  My dad lay on the couch shivering, his face even paler than I remembered and shiny with sweat. His lips had a bluish tint to them. I dropped to my knees and grabbed his hand, the clammy skin like death under my fingertips . . . not unlike Bianca’s had been. I trembled. “Dad? It’s Aphra. Can you hear me?”

  His lids fluttered open, and red-rimmed eyes stared at me. A spark of recognition burned behind the dull torpor but quickly faded. His eyes drifted shut once more.

  “Dad?” I shook him. “Dad!”

  He wheezed in a breath.

  Mr. Watts cleared his throat. “Sounds bad. He asthmatic?”

  “No,” Darlene said. “I thought he was having an allergic reaction or something, but I gave him an epi shot and he’s not responding to it.”

  “How’s his pressure?”

  “Dropping steadily for the past half hour.”

  “Shock?”

  “Not yet, but I’m worried.”

  “Can he talk?”

  “What do you think?”

  I watched them go back and forth like a tennis match. The end conclusion was that Mr. Watts really didn’t have any more medical expertise than Darlene. The conversation died down, and he just hovered. Like a vulture. The intense way in which he stared down at my dad looked very predatory. I jumped to my feet.

  “Thank you for your help, Mr. Watts.”

  “Not at all. If you’d like me to stay—”

  “That won’t be necessary.” I steered him from the office.

  “If he wakes up . . .”

  “Yes, we’ll let you know.”

  Frank appeared in the doorway at that moment, shaking water from his gray hair like a sheepdog. “Where is he?”

  I rushed to talk to him. “Dad’s resting in his office. Darlene’s with him.” Lowering my voice, I said, “What happened in the city? Why didn’t Junior come back with you?”

  Frank leaned close. “Mick took off the minute we landed. Junior went after him. Seems Mr. Rock Star had some possession issues he didn’t want to discuss with the authorities. Paperwork got complicated. Thought Junior woulda been done by the time I went back to get him, but he wasn’t, quite. He sent me on ahead and he said he’d follow, but with the storm—”

  “Follow? How?”

  “The city police want to come have a look-see at the resort.”

  “Oh, Dad’s just going to love that.”

  Dad. I glanced at his office, and my chest tightened.

  “Want me to take a look?” Frank asked.

  “Actually, could you make sure this guy gets back to his villa first? He’s making me nervous. Just . . . be careful.”

  “You got it, darlin’.”

  Frank strode across the lobby and laid a heavy hand on Watts’s shoulder. “If you’ll come with me . . .”

  I ran back into the office where Darlene knelt by the side of the couch. Worry pinched her features as she mopped Dad’s face with a cool washcloth. His breathing sounded raspy, and his chest rose and fell in rapid jerky movements.

  “Is . . . is he going to be all right?”

  “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I don’t know how to help him.”

  “There has to be something we can do. Call the hospital! Talk to a doctor.”

  “I called earlier. They said to bring him in.”

  “We need to call them again. If we can’t get him there, they should at least tell us what to do!”

  Darlene looked up and nodded at me. I didn’t like the expression on her face. Like she was already mourning his death.

  I crossed to the phone and picked up the receiver.

  Silence.

  The line was dead.

  CHAPTER 10

  I allowed myself about ten seconds to panic, but that’s all. With the phones down, the Internet would be out, too. Our only lines to outside help were gone. But I wasn’t about to sit around and act powerless. Not when my dad’s life depended on it.

  “Think, Darlene!” I insisted. “You are the island guru. What would the locals do in this situation? Isn’t there some folk remedy or some kind of herb or . . .” My voice trailed off. Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

  “What is it?”

  “Hisako! She knows all about plants and herbs and all that. Maybe she could find something to help until we can get Dad to a doctor.”

  Darlene pursed her lips together and gave a little shrug. I supposed that was her way of saying it couldn’t hurt, but anyway, I wasn’t waiting for permission. I ran all the way to Hisako’s villa, rain plastering my hair to my head and squelching in my shoes. The light in her window shone like a beacon in the proverbial storm. I could see her inside, seated on the floor in a lotus position, facing the wall. Her black hair hung in a single braid down the center of her back. She wore exercise clothes—stretch pants and a tank top. As I got closer, I could see a tattoo decorating one muscular shoulder. I wouldn’t have expected that from her—she seemed so demure. I stared at the ornate dragon tattoo and tapped timidly on the glass.

  As if she were expecting my company,
she rose gracefully to her feet and pulled on a yukata robe, tying the sash at her waist as she turned unhurriedly to open the door. When she saw me standing on the stoop, the calm on her face dissolved as she must have read the concern on mine. “Aphra-chan! Come in, come in.” She stepped aside and motioned for me to enter, but I didn’t have time for that.

  “I need your help,” I shouted, my voice carried away by the wind.

  She gripped my hand and leaned closer, worry creasing her delicate brow. “What is it?”

  “My dad.”

  Her grip tightened. “Jack-sama?”

  “Something’s wrong. He can’t breathe and he . . . he . . .” The weight of the past couple of days became too much, and I burst into tears.

  She grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Aphra! Tell me what is happening!”

  I hesitated. This was all wrong. Hisako was a guest. I shouldn’t say too much. I shouldn’t—

  “Aphra!”

  I couldn’t help it. One look in her troubled, black eyes, and it all tumbled out. “He . . . looks bad, but we can’t get him to a hospital because of the storm, and I . . . I should have noticed something was wrong this afternoon; he was getting all pale and sweaty and everything, but I was too obsessed with the Mulos, and now there’s this man looking for them, and I probably should have told him where they were, but I really like Seth and I think that guy might hurt him, and I don’t know that I can trust him and—”

  “Aphra-chan!” She shook me again. “You are making no sense. Please talk slowly. I cannot help if I do not understand.”

  I told her as much as I could in those urgent minutes, and she listened intently. “I do not believe I have met this Seth. Is he a guest?”

  I bobbed my head. “Yes. No. His family is hiding out here. Probably from Mr. Watts, I don’t know. That doesn’t matter. We need to help my dad!”

  Hisako took my hand. “We will, Aphra-chan, but we must also stop this man,” she said. “Do you think he is dangerous?”

  I nodded.

  Her mouth set in a straight line. “Then you must see to this Mr. Watts,” she said. “I will gather medicines and go to Jack.”

  “Thank you. Thank you!” I bowed deeply.

  “I will meet you there.” She gave me a quick bow and then stepped inside to change her clothes.

  I left her villa, mind churning. She said I should deal with Mr. Watts, but couldn’t that wait? First I wanted to make sure my dad was okay. I started up the path toward the Plantation House, but I couldn’t shake the image of Mr. Watts’s cold smile from my head. My gut told me he was dangerous. I could feel it.

  But were the Mulos dangerous, too? Seth’s face swam before my eyes, and for one delicious moment, I could feel his arms around me. Danger did not fit my image of him at all, but was I thinking clearly?

  At the head of the path, I hesitated. I didn’t have time to sort out who was good and who was bad. And if I chose wrong, how could I undo it?

  The branch of a coral tree blew into my path, and I kicked it out of the way.

  Then I had an idea.

  When Mr. Watts answered the door, he blinked at me, surprised. “What is it? Your dad doing better?”

  “Uh, soon I hope. Thanks. I, um . . .” I raised the domed silver tray I held in my hands. “The kitchen will be closed until further notice because of the storm, so the chef sent me down with a complimentary supper.”

  “In this weather?”

  “Yeah. You’re my last delivery, and then I can go home. May I come in and set this down?”

  He stood back, holding the door open with one arm. I stepped into his lair. My hands were shaking so bad that the silverware on the tray rattled. I slipped off my muddy shoes and padded barefoot into the entry, trailing water in my wake. “Where would you like it?”

  “There is fine.” He pointed to a small table near the front window.

  I set the tray down gently and raised the lid with a flourish. I have to say that the salad was artfully arranged: cucumber, tomato, and carrot curls atop butter-head and romaine, set off with a sprinkling of bright red coral seeds. Not a bad job, given my haste.

  Next to the salad plate sat a basket of rolls with butter, and a small cruet of dressing, specially doctored by yours truly. Even if he ate it all it wouldn’t do permanent damage, but the amount of salvia leaves I used in conjunction with the coral should knock him out for a good couple of hours. And just in case he wasn’t a salad fan, I had brewed a small pot of jasmine tea, careful to include kava root in the blend.

  He stood uncertainly and then bent to sniff the aroma of the fresh-baked rolls. Well, not exactly fresh baked since the kitchen truly was closed, but I had zapped them in the microwave before tucking them into the basket. As he reached forward to grab a roll, I noticed a bulge under his shirt, just below his left arm. The gun. I swallowed hard and backed to the door. “Bon appétit.” With a hasty bow, I ducked out the door and closed it behind me.

  I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Still, as I reached the top of the path, I ducked behind a tree and looked back toward the villa. Through the bucking branches, I could see Mr. Watts pull a chair up to the table and unfold the napkin onto his lap. He ate like a starved man, barely pausing between bites to take a sip of tea. Rain pelted me with increasing fury, but I hugged my arms and waited. I wanted to get back to the Plantation House, but not before I made sure the job was done.

  It didn’t take long. Before he even completed his meal, Watts yawned and stretched like a satiated cat. Standing unsteadily, he staggered to the couch, where he flopped down for what I hoped would be a very long nap.

  Hisako hadn’t gotten there before I returned to the Plantation House. Darlene stood at the door to the office, wringing her hands. “Well?”

  “She’s coming. She had to gather some things together.”

  “Does she know what to do, then?”

  “I hope so. How’s Dad doing?”

  She didn’t answer with words, but the look on her face spoke volumes. My heart fell. I stood in the doorway with her, dripping water on the floor and feeling very small. On the office couch, Dad lay on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes. His face was gray as a corpse. Small gasps escaped his lips as he struggled for each shallow breath.

  “Daddy,” I whispered, “please don’t leave me.”

  With uncanny timing, the front door blew open with a loud crash. I jumped and whirled around to see Mr. Mulo framed by the doorway, backlit by the raging storm, his raincoat whipping in the wind. He strode into the lobby carrying a black bag. Mrs. Mulo and Seth followed close behind.

  “Where is he?” Seth asked.

  Mrs. Mulo rushed to the office and peered inside. “Victor! Come quick!”

  He pushed past me and bent over my dad.

  Elena Mulo touched her husband’s arm. “You must help him. He looks very bad.”

  He threw an anxious glance at Darlene and me.

  “Victor.” Mrs. Mulo’s voice grew sharp. “Aphra knows already, and Miss . . .” She looked to Darlene with raised eyebrows.

  “Darlene,” I supplied.

  “Miss Darlene will not utter a word of what she sees here, will you?”

  Darlene shook her head dumbly, obviously confused. As was I. What was she talking about?

  Mr. Mulo dropped to one knee beside the couch and placed a knowing hand on my father’s forehead. He opened his black bag and pulled out a wooden tongue depressor and a silver flashlight with a narrow black tip—the kind they use for physical exams in the doctor’s office.

  He glanced up impatiently. “How long has he been like this?”

  I shook my head, still bewildered. “I . . . I’m not sure.”

  “He passed out about two hours ago,” Darlene offered. “I gave him an epi shot.”

  Mr. Mulo shook his head. “This does not appear to be an allergic reaction.”

  “I don’t understand,” Darlene said.

  “Victor was a doctor . . . before,” Mrs. Mulo whisp
ered, as if that explained everything. She peeled off her raincoat and dumped it on the counter and then hurried to assist her husband.

  “I don’t have the right equipment, Elena,” Dr. Mulo said. That title would take some getting used to. What else didn’t I know about Seth’s family? Whatever it might be, I did feel better watching Dr. Mulo poke and prod my dad. The man obviously knew what he was doing.

  “I know you wanted us to leave the island, but they can help. I had to tell them.” Seth’s voice rolled over me like a summer zephyr, warming me despite my sodden clothes.

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  Darlene planted her hands on her hips. “Anyone mind telling me what is going on?”

  I waited for Seth to explain, but he said nothing. “Their name is not really Smith,” I said simply, and left it at that.

  Dr. Mulo gestured to Darlene to come closer. I followed.

  “His airway is compromised. If this continues, we may need to intervene.”

  “Intervene?”

  “Tracheotomy.” He scribbled notes on a small piece of paper and handed it to her. “Here is a list of things I will need in order to be prepared. We shall hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Hisako will bring us something,” I said hopefully. “She said she would come.”

  “Who is this Hisako?” Dr. Mulo looked alarmed. “We cannot be exposed to anyone else.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Hisako already knew all about them. “She’ll be discreet.”

  “What is it she is bringing?”

  “I’m not sure. Some kind of herbs or something. She’s a botanist. She’s looking for something to help.”

  He grunted. “She can give you these herbs without coming in here, can she not?”

  “I . . . I guess so.”

  “Go see what she has and bring it back directly.” Then, turning to Darlene, “You gather these items, just in case.”

  I ran to the door, and Seth followed. “I’m coming with you!”

  I wasn’t about to argue.

  The storm nearly whipped the door from its hinges when I opened it. It probably would have knocked me right over if I hadn’t been holding on to the door frame. Seth took my hand, and we struggled together against the wind, heads ducked to keep the rain from stinging our eyes. I led him to Hisako’s villa. Her windows were dark, but I pounded on her door anyway and called her name.