by Beth Orsoff
“You want Lizzie to stay here for another two months!”
“I can try to move the case to another district, but I’m afraid it would jeopardize her situation here, and two months is not very long to prepare for a complex trial. I’d prefer longer.”
“This is completely unacceptable,” Jane said. “I want you to contact the Embassy right now. And I’m calling my father,” she added pulling her cell phone out of her purse.
“There’s nothing they can do,” David said. “The best we can hope for is detention here at the police station and a speedy trial.”
I agreed with Jane. Two months locked in a storage closet was completely unacceptable. There had to be another way.
Chapter 38
THE FIRST HURDLE WAS coming up with a plan. Sergeant Ramos had to let me speak privately with David because he was my lawyer. There was no similar rule in place for best friends. Although both Jane and I took David’s advice and attempted to ingratiate ourselves with Sergeant Ramos as much as possible.
Jane convinced him that it would be easier and cheaper for him if he allowed her to bring me my meals. Three times a day she arrived with food from the best restaurants on the island. And she always brought extra for him and Officer Juan.
She also brought supplies to make everyone’s lives easier. A folding beach chair with a real pillow and blanket for me, bones and chew toys for Butch and Sundance so they’d stop gnawing on the furniture, and a portable outdoor shower. She even offered to send faxes for Sergeant Ramos from the hotel so they didn’t have to pay the dollar per page rate at the pharmacy.
Unfortunately this didn’t leave much time for investigating Michael’s murder—for Jane or the police, and the latter seemed perfectly content to let me take the rap. David told us he’d hired a private investigator in Belize City, but so far he hadn’t turned up anything. The good news was that the prosecutor assigned to my case was inundated and didn’t have the time or the resources to pursue his own investigation. David thought we had at least a fifty percent chance of winning just by poking holes in the prosecution’s case.
“But that means there’s a fifty percent chance of losing too.”
“Yes,” David admitted, in one of our twice weekly meetings. “But even if we lose at trial, we can always appeal. The prosecution has a very flimsy case.”
“But doesn’t that take years?” It did in the U.S.
“Well yes, but sometimes that can be the basis for re-opening a bail application.”
“David, I can’t spend the next five years on this island. I have a life back home.” And a career too, assuming anyone would hire me again after I’d indefinitely postponed all of my assignments. Jane had been sending e-mails and making phone calls on my behalf, but editors wouldn’t wait forever. And I needed the income to pay my mounting legal bills. Jane was loaning me the money, but I still had to pay her back.
“I know it’s hard, Lizzie, but you don’t have a choice.”
I disagreed.
My best shot at speaking with Jane privately was in the mornings. I was alone with Officer Juan from eight until ten when Sergeant Ramos arrived. After Officer Juan and I walked Butch and Sundance, we’d wait for Jane to show up with breakfast and her hotel copy of U.S.A. Today, which she’d bring for Juan who was enamored with all things American. He was happy to eat breakfast alone and read the paper, while Jane and I chatted in the storage room.
“I found something interesting yesterday,” I said, handing her a police file. “Ernesto, Michael’s cousin, was arrested three years ago for money laundering. He was caught swimming to shore with a plastic bag filled with half a million dollars in twenties strapped to his back.”
“He swam all the way from the U.S.?”
“No,” I said between bites of spinach and Gruyere omelet. “They found his boat a mile off shore. The genius ran out of gas.”
She scanned the arrest report while she ate her granola-yogurt parfait. “Where did you find this?”
“In the file cabinet. I finished my book last night and there was nothing left to clean, so I started reading the arrest reports.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he and Michael were in business together.”
“But Michael wasn’t smuggling money.”
“I know. Yet I can’t help but feel there’s a connection somehow. Can you do some searching on the internet?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll do it tonight.”
The next morning, Jane brought Officer Juan her old Entertainment Weekly along with the paper to ensure we’d have lots of private time.
“I couldn’t find any stories linking Ernesto and Michael.”
Sigh. “It was just a hunch.”
“But I did find mention of his release. Ernesto was never convicted. The story said the charges were dropped for lack of evidence.”
“That can’t be right. According to the arrest report, they caught him with the money and he confessed.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Greased palms, maybe?”
“Ernesto didn’t strike me as someone with a lot of influence.”
“Maybe the person he works for is.”
We both agreed that one of us needed to talk to Ernesto again. Since I was in jail, Jane was the obvious choice.
“But I don’t think you should go alone.”
“Who do you want me to take, Officer Juan?”
“If I thought he’d go, yes. But I don’t think he or Sergeant Ramos have any interest in following up on new leads. Maybe you should call David.”
“I tried already, just to see if he knew anything about Ernesto. His secretary told me he’s in trial this week.”
“What about the investigator?”
“All I could get out of her was that he was unavailable.”
I could only think of one other person. “How do you feel about asking Jack for help?”
“Your Jack?”
“He’s hardly ‘my Jack.’ And he seemed pretty interested in you that day at the pool.”
“Oh please,” she said, “he’s so not my type.”
“I’m not asking you to sleep with him. But he can help you find Ernesto and I bet he would if you asked.”
“Why would he?”
“Chivalry is not dead on Belize.” And Jane was a cute blond with big tits.
Jane slipped me a note that night with dinner: I spoke to J. We’re on for tonight.
I was so worried about Jane, I hardly slept all night. I was a wreck the next morning, and Jane didn’t look much better.
“Three words,” she said, settling onto my beach chair/bed. “Boat at night. It was horrible. I needed to take a Xanax just to leave the shore, and I was still sea sick the entire time. Good thing Jack was there, because I was really out of it.”
“So you don’t think he’s a murderer anymore?” Okay, I was a little jealous.
“Not last night, he wasn’t. And don’t worry, we spent the whole time talking about you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true. It’s not like Ernesto told us anything.”
“Nothing?”
“It was a complete waste. He denied everything.”
“Even the arrest?”
She laughed. “He said it was a case of mistaken identity.”
“And the confession?”
“Coerced. He said the police are much nicer to you than they were to him.”
I could believe that. “Did you tell him I was arrested for Michael’s murder?”
She stopped smiling and turned serious. “No, but he already knew.”
“It’s a small place. Maybe my arrest made the news.”
Jane began twirling the ends of her hair around her fingers, which meant she was either nervous or plotting.
“What?” I asked.
“Maybe the reason he knew you were in jail was because he, or the person he works for, has an in with the police. Maybe they even planted Michael’
s blood on the jade pieces knowing our expert would find it. Or maybe,” she said, standing up and pacing my cell, “he killed Michael with the jade and then planted those pieces in your suitcase.”
She had me right up until the end. “Michael was stabbed. And Ernesto never even met me until after Michael was dead.”
“But he’d heard of you.”
That was true. “But he didn’t even know my name. All he knew was I was the woman who went on her honeymoon without a husband.”
“That doesn’t mean he, or someone he works for, couldn’t have found you. Michael probably told him what hotel you were in. Didn’t you tell me you gave Michael a key?”
“Yes, and he lost it, but he had a copy made.”
“How do you know he lost it?”
“He told me. But why would he lie about it?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Did you ever get the copy back?”
I had to think about that. “No, when I checked out I only gave them my key. The weird part is they never asked me for the other one. And Michael had made such a big deal about them charging me for it.”
“Maybe that’s because they already had it.”
Now I was confused. “You think someone at the hotel killed Michael?”
“No, I think Ernesto killed Michael, then used his key to plant the jade in your suitcase.”
“And he returned it at the front desk on his way out? That makes no sense.”
“Maybe. But there’s a connection here. I can feel it.”
I couldn’t deny that the coincidences were starting to pile up.
“Good news,” Sergeant Ramos announced later that afternoon. “The police on Parrot Caye arrested a woman for attempted murder last night.”
“How is that good news? Did she confess to killing Michael too?”
“No, she went after her husband with a meat cleaver. But they’re holding her on Parrot Caye over night, then transferring her to Hattieville in the morning and you’re going with her.”
I could actually feel my heart skip a beat. “You’re sending me to Hattieville? Why? I’m a model prisoner.”
“You’re better than most,” he said, patting his stomach with both hands. He’d probably gained five pounds just since I’d been re-arrested. “But it’s too hard getting Juan out of the station with you and your friend around.”
“So you’re punishing me because Officer Juan has a crush?”
“You’re not being punished. You’re being treated like everyone else.”
“I’m being treated like a criminal and I’m not one. Does David know about this?”
“My very next call,” he said, and picked up the phone.
Sergeant Ramos couldn’t reach David either, but his secretary assured him she would deliver the message. I delivered my own message to Jane that night. I slipped her a note after dinner: You need to get me out of here TONIGHT!
Chapter 39
AS THE STARS CAME out, I waited for Jane and tried to figure out the next step. The police would discover me missing in the morning and I was sure the first place they’d look would be Jane’s hotel room. And after that, every other hotel on the island. I’d have to find another place to hide. But where?
I still hadn’t come up with a solution when Jane knocked on my window at eleven o’clock. She clicked on her keychain flashlight and I could see she was wearing black pants, a black sleeveless shirt, and her blond hair was pulled up into a black beret.
“What are you supposed to be, a cat burglar?”
“I didn’t know what to wear. It’s not like I’ve ever broken someone out of jail before.”
“So what’s the plan?”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a nail file. Not wire cutters, or a sledge hammer, or even the lock picks that neither one of us could master. She brought a paper nail file to break me out of jail.
That’s when we started arguing and the guy with the machete showed up.
“Jack, what are you doing here?”
I turned to Jane, but she said, “Don’t look at me. I brought the file.”
“I heard they were sending you to Hattieville in the morning. What’s that for?” he asked, pointing to the emery board.
“Don’t you start too,” Jane yelled, and we both shushed her.
“So what’s your plan?” Jack whispered.
“We don’t have one,” I said, glaring at Jane. “But there’s no way I’m going to Hattieville.”
“Then you need to get out of here.”
Jack picked up his machete, and Jane jumped off the overturned garbage can she’d been standing on so she could see in my window, which caused it to tip over and immediately start rolling towards the shore. It probably would’ve hit the water and floated out into the Caribbean if it hadn’t run into a palm tree with a loud clank, which set off Sundance’s barking.
“There’s no food, Sundance,” Jane and I called out to him, while Jack ran down the beach to retrieve the can. He set it upright far away from Jane, then picked up his machete again and went to work. He slipped the tip of the knife under the head of one of the nails holding the chicken wire in place outside my window and jiggled it until it loosened. When he could pull it out with his finger, he moved on to the next nail.
“Wouldn’t that be easier with a hammer?” Jane asked.
Jane didn’t even own a hammer, let alone use one to pull nails out of a wall. She must’ve seen a workman do it. Probably a very cute workman.
Jack lowered the machete. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Of course we do,” I said and shot Jane a look, even though I doubted she could see me. “Then tell your friend not to micromanage,” he said, jiggling the machete again.
“I tell her all the time, not that it does any good.”
“Hey, don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Jane said, jumping up into my view. “And micromanaging IS my job in case you’ve forgotten.”
Jack and I exchanged a smile.
For a few minutes the only sounds we heard were the waves on the beach and Jack’s machete scraping against the wood, when Jane said, “Lizzie, where are you going to stay? I’m sure the hotel’s the first place Sergeant Ramos will look.”
“I know, I thought that too. Any suggestions?”
“There’s lots of deserted islands around here,” Jack said. “I could drop you off somewhere until you figure out your next move.”
“A deserted island?” Jane said. “You mean the kind with snakes and bugs and no bathroom?”
Jack smiled in at me while he continued to work the nails. “That’s generally who inhabits deserted islands, and no, they don’t come with flush toilets and hot showers.”
“Lizzie, you know I can’t do that.”
I knew. To be honest, I was surprised she’d made it this far. Flying in a small plane was major progress for her and going out on a boat at night, even with a tranquilizer, was off the charts. Snakes and bugs and peeing in the woods were not even in the realm of possibility.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to ask you to. And I want you to know that I’m really proud of you. You’ve accomplished a lot this week. Dr. Tobler’s going to be thrilled.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I never would’ve gotten on that plane if it wasn’t for you. It’s been—”
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Jack said, before we could slip into another Hallmark moment, “but I think I know a place you can both hide.”
“Where?” I asked.
“You could stay at the turtle camp. The rest of the volunteers have gone home. I’m the only one left.”
“What’s a turtle camp?” Jane asked.
I was envisioning doggie day care, but for turtles, which sounded sort of fun.
“It’s a turtle nesting beach on the other side of the island,” Jack said. “The eggs have already hatched so everyone’s gone, but the building’s still standing. It’s not the Tradewinds, but there’s a bed and a roof and indoor plumbing.”
<
br /> It sounded good to me.
Jack jimmied out the last of the nails and tossed the chicken wire into the bushes that separated the police station’s grounds from the café next door.
I didn’t want to be accused of micromanaging too, but I also didn’t want Jack to get in trouble. “Do you think it’s safe to leave that stuff here with your fingerprints all over it?”
Jack tried to suppress a smile. “This isn’t L.A., Lizzie. I don’t think the police even know how to dust for prints. But if you’ve got a blanket or a towel, I’ll take it.”
I slipped him Sergeant Ramos’ beach towel through the slats in the window, and he wrapped it around the bottom pane.
“You think the glass might break?”
“Not really,” he said, “but no sense leaving obvious fingerprints.”
I smiled, but didn’t say a word.
With half the panes removed, I was able to squeeze out the bottom of the window. Jack caught me on the way down, and for a moment all those fantasies I’d had came rushing back to me. But there was no time for that now.
Jane and I followed him through the bushes (that’s where the machete really came in handy) and down to a rocky part of the beach where he’d left his motor boat.
“There’s no way I’m getting in that thing,” Jane said.
“But you went out in Jack’s boat the other night.”
“Not that one.”
“We took the dive boat,” Jack explained. “This one’s mine.”
“I’m sorry Lizzie, but I just can’t.”
“I think it’s better if you didn’t,” Jack said.
I knew Jane could be a pain sometimes, but I wasn’t going to leave her behind.
“She should stay at the hotel so she’s there in the morning when the police come,” Jack explained, tossing me a sweatshirt from the bottom of his boat. “Sergeant Ramos will already suspect her,” he continued. “You shouldn’t give him any ammunition.”
“He’s right,” I said to Jane.
She was only too happy to agree.
Chapter 40