****
"His reactions were strange, J.-P.," Phillip said. "I honestly don't think he knew what I was talking about when I asked him about Dani."
"But the Morrises said they saw her on his boat," J.-P. objected. "Why would they say that?"
"Oh, I think they saw her on Sea Serpent, all right. But I think there's something wrong with that Reilly character. He was upset and confused. I think that Dani was probably on his boat and he has no recollection of it. That's the only way I can reconcile his behavior with the facts that we have. Either that, or he's a far better liar than I've ever run across."
"You think maybe he was on drugs?"
"Well, could be, I guess. I hadn't thought of that," Phillip mused. "When I talked to him, or when he was with Dani?"
"Could have been either time. Or maybe both. That bears checking, I believe," J.-P. said, making a note to himself. "What about this Devereaux woman? Where does she fit in?"
"I think that's just as simple as it appears to be," Phillip said. "There's nothing to indicate that she didn't just hustle herself a ride to Saint Martin on Sea Serpent. Everything about her is consistent with what we learned from her former boss. Her reaction to the questions about Dani was interesting, but not surprising."
"What do you mean by that?"
"We'd have to know more about the relationship she has with Reilly to be sure, but she looked dumbfounded by the notion that Dani had been on the boat as recently as a week or so ago. We know she had no background with Reilly, so I can only assume that Reilly must have told her something that was inconsistent with Dani having been on the boat. There's no way to know. It was also pretty obvious that Reilly is completely smitten by the Devereaux woman. You'd have to be blind not to see it, and if you saw her, you'd understand why he would be. She's a knockout."
"You think maybe that's a reason for Reilly to lie, Phillip? To hide a relationship with Dani from his new woman?"
"It could be, but, again, there were no tells, I think, if anything, her reaction lends credence to the notion that Reilly told us a story that was consistent with whatever he had told her. It may not be true; in fact, the Morris's story means it can't be true, but Reilly believes that Dani was never aboard his boat. Then Michelle heard from us that she had been, and she was confused."
"So, this adds nothing to our understanding."
"Not so, my friend. It's confusing, but we now know that Dani probably didn't leave Saint Vincent and the Grenadines aboard Sea Serpent. My visit with Reilly tends to confirm the rest of the data we've accumulated. There were any number of things that we could have learned from him that would have taken us in a different direction. As it stands now, we know that Dani is not with him, and that he probably doesn't know where she is. It's still possible that he had some role in her disappearance, but if he did, we won't learn it from him."
"What if you and Sharktooth worked on him a bit?"
"J.-P., I understand how frustrated you are, but trust me. If I thought Reilly knew something and just wouldn't talk, I'd think we could get it out of him. My read on him is that we could take him to the edge of death, and he still couldn't tell us anything. All he had to do was say, 'Yeah, she spent a couple of days on the boat with me and went ashore in Bequia,' or wherever, and we would have gone away happy. He didn't take the easy way to get rid of me, so I think that's one more indication that he's told us what he knows, like it or not."
"Okay, Phillip, what you have said makes sense. Where do we go from here?"
"I think we need to learn as much as we can about Mike Reilly. Now that I've defended him to you and Sharktooth, I have to say there was something a little off there. You still have your contacts in Miami, right?"
"Phillip, you're the one that's retired. I'm still working, remember? I'll put Mario to work on it. I'll let you know what he finds."
"Okay, J.-P. While you're doing that, I'm going back down island and check out the grapevine. See if anybody has heard anything that might give us a lead. You still haven't heard anything to indicate that one of our old competitors might have a hand in this, have you? Or thought of any reason why Dani might want to disappear for a while?"
"No, Phillip, neither of those things. I have been involved in a project in South America, but I'm in a partnership with the people you are talking about. Times have changed. It's better for them to work with me instead of competing, these days. It's harder to make money than it used to be. They would be hurting themselves as much as me with a kidnapping. Nobody I can think of who could pull that off would stand to benefit. Believe me, I've searched my soul over that, and anyway, if somebody had kidnapped Dani, there would have been a ransom demand by now. As for Dani herself, who knows? She's gone off our radar before, but not like this. She has always sent some signal to let me know not to worry. True, she has lost her phone, but she's resourceful. She would have another by now, unless she is where she can't communicate. I don't like to think like this…"
"Nor do I, J.-P.," Phillip said. "Nor do I. We'll find her. I'll send you a fax of my itinerary, once I work it out."
Chapter 15
Mario Espinosa was sipping a colado at his favorite café on Lincoln Road, smoking a big, illegal Cuban cigar, and sharing lies about his golf game with his friends when his cell phone began to vibrate in the right front pocket of his open-necked, white linen shirt. He opted to ignore it. He only saw these compadres once a week, and it was too early for any of his people to be calling him, anyway. The phone stopped vibrating just as Manny Fernandez finished telling a long, convoluted joke about an Anglo, a goat, and his sister-in-law. Mario chuckled politely with the other men at the table, and was about to make his own contribution to the conversation when the phone began to vibrate again. Probably his wife. He sighed, made a gesture excusing himself, and fished the phone out, turning away to read the caller i.d. before he pressed the connect button. His eyebrows arched in surprise when he saw the caller's name, flashing in time with the humming of the phone.
"Hola, Jean-Pierre," he said. "Comment allez-vous?"
"Buenos días, Mario. C'est bon, merci. Cómo está usted?'
"Not so bad for an old man, J.-P., but not like I was, either." Mario shifted to English, each having exhausted his command of the other's native tongue.
J.-P. remembered Mario's exploits in the bad old days, not long after Castro's revolution. He could well imagine that Mario today was not the Mario who had napalmed Cuba's cane fields for weekend entertainment 40 years ago. He had last seen Mario about five or six years ago, when he and Dani had last visited the states on a holiday. Mario had gotten fat and rich, but the spark in the black eyes was as bright as ever.
"How is that beautiful daughter of yours, J.-P.?" Mario asked, seemingly following J.-P.'s thoughts.
"Thanks for asking, Mario, but that is why I am calling you, my friend. She is missing, somewhere down in the islands. The last man with whom she was seen is from Florida, so Phillip and I were hoping you could make a few inquiries."
"Certainly, J.-P., I will do that. So, Phillip, he's looking for her in the islands, then?"
"Yes, he's helping me down there, Mario. You know how he feels about Dani."
"Yes. There's not much that I can offer down island that Phillip can’t do, but if he can use my help, he has but to ask. You tell him this for me, please?"
"I surely will, Mario. Thank you, my friend."
"It's nothing, J.-P. Now you will send me a fax with what you know about this man in Florida, yes?"
"Yes, Mario. As soon as we finish this call."
"Okay, J.-P. It is good to hear your voice again, like the old days. We will find your Dani, and make someone very sorry if he has harmed her even just a little bit. Don't worry. I will call soon."
"Thank you, Mario. Take care, old man."
"Tu, también, J.-P.," Mario said, disconnecting and turning back to his friends, who waited expectantly to hear what had been so important. Of the five other men at the table, all but one knew Phil
lip and J.-P. and had, at various times, been involved in some of their nefarious dealings. Paul Russo, the outsider, was retired from the Miami Police Department, where he had served as a Detective Lieutenant in Homicide. While he had never been involved in business dealings with the others, he knew Phillip Davis by reputation from Phillip's days working for various government agencies, and since his retirement, he'd heard enough war stories from the rest of the men so that he felt as if he knew J.-P. Berger, as well. Paul had been part of the weekly gathering for long enough to gain the trust of the others. Early in his tenure, they had been somewhat guarded in telling their tales, but as they got to know him, they had opened up, realizing that he was one of their own kind. He was willing to do what was right, whether the lawyers agreed or not, and they had eventually taken him completely into their confidence. Paul spoke up when Mario paused in his recitation.
"Mario, this is something I can probably help with, if you'll let me."
"You sure, Paul?" Mario asked. "I appreciate your offer, but I could hire a private detective. It's no problem. The money doesn't matter, and you're retired."
"Retired, and bored. This could be interesting -- it's what I always liked best. I'm not offering to save you and your friend money. I'm offering because I'm the best, and I would enjoy doing it. Besides, I'd like to meet this J.-P., after all the tales you've told about him. Not to mention Phillip Davis -- he was pretty well known and admired in my working days. Almost like a folk hero in South Florida and Latin America. I understand if you aren't comfortable letting an old cop get too close, though. Just an offer. Your call, amigo."
"Okay, Paul, you're on. I think we're all on the side of law and order here, anyway. No conflicts for an old cop in this one, the way I see it. I'll call you when I get J.-P.'s fax."
Paul nodded, smiling and shaking hands all around, as the group broke up.
****
Phillip sat on his veranda drinking coffee, pondering how best to look for Dani down in the southern Windward Islands. He had spent the early morning calling his old contacts, asking them to be on the lookout for her. The folks he spoke to in the local police forces already had the notice that Sergeant Wiggers had circulated, and Phillip encouraged his friends outside the law enforcement community to get a look at the poster, until he could provide a better description. He explained to everyone that his interest in this was personal and that he was working with Dani's father, just to avoid giving rise to any speculation about who might want to find this beautiful young woman and why she was being sought. After all, there were some places down island that catered to people seeking anonymity, and he didn't want anybody to misapprehend his motivation and help Dani remain invisible.
He was feeling the compulsion to act, now that he had worked his way through his list of contacts. He knew that he wouldn't find Dani by sitting on the veranda, waiting for his phone to ring. The most he could expect from any of the sources he had enlisted was a cold lead. Those folks couldn't just drop what they were doing and go looking for her. He was prepared to wait; he had certainly done his share of that, but he had a strong sense that he would uncover more information if he became part of the world he was studying, as opposed to remaining a distant observer. He was thinking that he should stock up his boat and go sailing for a while. He would learn more from the yachting community as a participant than as an outsider. He wondered briefly if he should ask Sandrine to go along, but decided it would be impractical for her, since he would have no specific itinerary and would not be keeping to a schedule. She had to work, and, while the French Customs were pretty relaxed, they still wanted people to show up at the office when expected. He thought it would be fun to have her along, as well as providing him with useful camouflage in the couples-dominated cruising community, but he was afraid that it wouldn't work out.
He pulled a duffel bag out of his storage closet and began tossing a few items of clothing into it. Most of what he would need was already permanently stowed aboard Kayak Spirit, his old 40-foot Carriacou sloop. He smiled as he thought about the good times he'd had on the classic wooden boat, and the number of folks who had asked about the name, which had nothing to do with the lightweight paddle-driven boats that it brought to mind. In the Grenadines, Kayak was the local term for a native of Carriacou, the second most populated island in the country of Grenada. The town of Windward, on the reef-strewn northeastern corner of Carriacou, had been a boat-building center for hundreds of years, producing fine, fast, wooden hulls for the inter-island trading fleet. Many of the larger ones were still hauling freight up and down the island chain, having been converted from sail power to diesel during the last half of the 20th century. Some of the smaller vessels, like Kayak Spirit, had been spruced up for pleasure use, but all retained the beautiful traditional, sweeping sheer line, with a relatively high bow and low sides. The Carriacou sloops were raced competitively, still, and invariably attracted attention from the locals when they pulled into a harbor. Phillip was depending on Kayak Spirit to serve as his calling card as he sought Dani. The vessel's pedigree would open doors among the islanders, and her American flag and yacht club burgees would serve a similar purpose among the yachties.
He put his duffel bag in the car and drove to the marina in Cul-de-Sac Marin, just a few minutes from his house in Saint Anne. After he parked, he walked over to the Douane office and told Sandrine what he was planning. As he had hoped she would, she wanted to go along on his adventure, but, as he expected, she couldn’t figure a way to fit the loosely planned trip into the demands of her job. They agreed to stay in touch by phone and email, so that she could perhaps join him for a few days at a time, flying in and out as their schedules permitted. To soften the disappointment, he invited her to lunch at the open-air restaurant across the way. She agreed to meet him in an hour, giving him time to buy groceries for his trip. He obtained his outbound clearance for Rodney Bay, Saint Lucia, and accepted a kiss on the cheek as he left the office, asking Sandrine if she kissed all the captains she dealt with. She smiled fondly and shook her curly head as the door closed behind him.
He strolled down the dock to Kayak Spirit, unlocked the companionway, and opened all of the hatches to air her out while he unpacked his duffel bag. He stowed his clothes in the lockers and set about doing an inventory of the galley. He figured that he should plan to eat dinner ashore most nights, in hopes of joining the crowds in the restaurants and bars that catered to yachties, where he might find someone who had seen Dani. Accordingly, he made a shopping list of things that he would need for breakfast and lunch, mindful that things that he took for granted in the relatively wealthy, French island of Martinique were unavailable in many of the places he was going. At the same time, fresh vegetables and fresh and frozen fish and meats were readily available, and far less expensive, in the independent islands down south. List in hand, he launched his dinghy and motored through the harbor to the dock that served the big French chain grocery store, beginning to feel excited at the prospect of cruising the islands again after several months ashore.
Chapter 16
The island of Baliceaux was in sight of the exclusive resort island of Mustique, both just a few miles southeast of Bequia. Baliceaux was a large island, politically part of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, but privately owned, and uninhabited except for a few smugglers who had recently set up shop, squatting quietly out of everyone's sight. Baliceaux's 300-odd acres represented a prime development opportunity, and the owners would presumably sell for the right price. However, there was an obstacle to development, which made the island more attractive to the newcomers. In the early colonial days, the British had exiled the Carib Indians, the aboriginal inhabitants of the area, to what had effectively been an extermination camp on Baliceaux. The memory of this was bitter for many people in the islands, descendants of the Caribs in spirit if not in fact. Every year, some of the few remaining members of the Carib tribe joined with the government of Saint Vincent in holding a low-key commemorative ceremony on the island.
This history was a substantial impediment to development, and the smugglers ensured that it would remain an impediment by making large but discrete contributions to key politicians, in effect outbidding any would-be developers. This allowed the politicians to proudly and publicly protect the heritage of the Caribs without suffering for their beliefs.
The smugglers were part of a loosely organized group of drug dealers from the north coast of South America who had noticed that Baliceaux was at a crossroads of tourism and commerce but wasn't part of it all. Since no one lived on Baliceaux, it was simple to develop it as a transfer point for smuggling drugs, money, and other lucrative, illegal commodities. Santiago Rodriguez, a member of El Grupo, as they called themselves, used discreet Venezuelan contractors to build a well-concealed facility in the interior of the island. They had worked under the cover of darkness during the hurricane season to escape notice. The compound had everything but a landing strip, which would have attracted attention. There were plenty of good landing strips on the adjacent islands, with ready access to Baliceaux by small boat, and Baliceaux had a small but well-protected natural harbor. Numerous private yachts and aircraft operated in the area, serving well-known tourist destinations, many within sight of Baliceaux. This traffic provided perfect cover for the movement of illicit merchandise by like conveyance.
One of the commodities that passed through Baliceaux was flesh. The flesh was human, alive, and primarily, but not exclusively, female. Compliant, attractive women were of great value. Rodriguez, known to his minions only as Big Jim, handled the commercial aspects of the entire operation. Rosa Sanchez worked for him on Baliceaux. Rosa's job was to take care of the livestock, as they referred to their captives. Many of the unfortunates who became temporary residents of the facility weren't in the best of health when they arrived. Some had been injured incident to their capture; others were addicted to various substances. Some, particularly specimens sold to Big Jim by their impoverished families, were simply starving, and they needed to be fattened up before they could be moved into retail distribution.
Bluewater Killer: A Serial Murder Mystery Set In Florida and the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 1) Page 9