Honeymoon for One

by Beth Orsoff

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Just drive.”

  Chapter 49

  I STAYED TWO BLOCKS behind and Jane kept John and Cheryl in sight with the camera.

  “I don’t know what he sees in her,” Jane said. “Her ass is huge.”

  “Everyone’s ass is huge when it’s on a bike and you’re staring at it through a telephoto lens. Even you Miss Size Two.”

  “Actually, this skirt is a zero.”

  “Thanks for sharing.” I couldn’t fit one leg into a size zero.

  “Look for a place to pull over. They just turned into the driveway for that hotel.”

  I drove past the entrance to the White Sands Beach Resort and pulled the golf cart over to the side of the road. “What now?”

  “Now we go inside and find out what they’re up to.”

  “I can’t go inside. What if they see me? I’m still a fugitive you know.”

  Jane was already out of the golf cart and adjusting her hat.

  “They’re not going to see you. And even if they do, they’re not going to recognize you. You’re a man now, remember?”

  The good news is that I didn’t get re-arrested. The bad news is that while I was hiding in the bushes trying to figure out which bungalow John and Cheryl were staying in without them or anyone else seeing me, I stepped on a red ant mound. That put a quick end to my spying as I ran back to the golf cart, swiping at the ants and cursing Jane all the way.

  Since Jane wasn’t a fugitive, she got the job of hanging around the hotel pool and lobby waiting for John and Cheryl to show up. Since they’d never met her, she figured she could strike up a casual conversation with them and fish for information. She only lasted forty minutes. Although Jane liked all the theorizing, she just didn’t have the patience for detective work.

  “Any other bright ideas?” I said, as I scratched my ankles raw. I made Jane drive on the way back so I could give the ant bites my full attention.

  “You better stop scratching, or you’re going to end up with scars.”

  “If Sergeant Ramos finds me, these scars will be the least of my worries.”

  “But they didn’t even see you.”

  “Jane, I know you’re really enjoying playing girl detective and all, but I’m not. I want to go home. I want my life back. I don’t want to sneak around spying on people, or meeting with drug dealers, or lying awake at night wondering if it’s the guy in the next room or my lawyer who’s really out to get me. I can’t do this anymore!” I didn’t want to cry, but the tears didn’t ask permission. They just came.

  Jane pulled the golf cart to a stop at the side of the road, then leaned over and gave me a hug. When my heaving subsided and the tears slowed to a trickle, she let go and handed me a tissue.

  “Feel better?” she asked.

  Actually, I did. My situation hadn’t improved any, but at least I’d released some tension.

  “So you want to hear my new plan?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Sure Jane.”

  “We know there are DEA and Customs agents down here, even if we don’t know who they are. I propose we get as much info from Ernesto tonight as we can, then we find a way to contact the agents and offer to turn everything over to them in exchange for your freedom.”

  “You think they’ll do that?”

  “Well we’re not going to tell them what we know unless they do.”

  “What if they won’t agree?”

  “Then we move on to Plan B—we smuggle you out of the country and get you a new identity.”

  “Is that even possible?” I thought only governments could do that, and characters in movies.

  “With enough money, anything’s possible.”

  I had a whole five minutes of feeling better before we walked in on Jack.

  Chapter 50

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” I screamed, as I grabbed Fred from Jack’s hands and stared at the cord dangling from the kitchen ceiling fan with a baby turtle-sized noose knotted at its end.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” he said, holding up the steak knife. “I was trying to cut it down.”

  “What the hell?” Jane asked, joining us in the kitchen.

  “It was here when I got back,” Jack said, and used the knife to slice off the noose. The rest of the cord, however, was still dangling.

  “Why would anyone try to hang Fred?” I don’t know if it was my yelling or the brush with death, but the poor turtle was about to shake out of his shell.

  “I think it was a warning,” Jack said, “to you,” he added, and handed me the crumpled note sitting on the floor next to the crash can.

  This is your last warning gringas. Go home!

  I passed it on to Jane. “Is it time for Plan B yet?”

  “Not yet,” she said, “but soon. Where did you put the first note?”

  “I threw it away.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Why would I do that? “Why would I keep it? It’s not like we could call the police.”

  “So we can compare the hand writing and see if it’s the same.”

  “You think there’s more than one person sending us death threats?”

  “It’s possible,” she said, “I just want to be sure.”

  It was more than I could handle on three hours sleep. “Plan B, Jane, Plan B.”

  I heard Jack ask “what’s Plan B?” as I headed down the hallway to my bedroom. I didn’t stop to listen to Jane’s answer. I slammed the door shut and laid down on the bed with Fred in my arms. I tried to fall asleep but of course I couldn’t. I was too scared to even keep my eyes closed, not to mention Fred trying to squirm away from me. It wasn’t long before Jane was knocking on my door.

  “Can I come in?” she asked, without waiting for a response. “I called my dad again.”

  “Twice in one day. He’s going to think one of you is dying.”

  Jane joined me on the bed. “I wanted him to get me the contact info for the agents down here. Of course he wouldn’t,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s all classified.”

  “Plan B then?”

  “Not until we talk to Ernesto. But I was thinking in the meantime, we should move. Someone obviously doesn’t want us here and I think we should oblige them.”

  “Where to?”

  “The last place anyone would think to look for us.”

  “The police station?”

  “No, but we are going back to Camus Caye.”

  “Jane, you know any hotel we go to is going to ask for your passport. And even if we rent another house, it’s a small place. It’s only a matter of time before Sergeant Ramos finds us.”

  “I know,” she said. “That’s why we’re going to the turtle camp.”

  I sat up. “Jane, you’ve been to the turtle camp. No three-hundred thread count sheets, no Jacuzzi tub, not even air-conditioning. Remember how dirty the couch was?”

  “I remember,” she said. “I just sent Jack out for supplies.”

  “I thought you didn’t trust Jack?”

  “I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I can refuse his help. Neither one of us knows how to drive a boat, remember?”

  I didn’t want to feed her paranoia, but it had to be said. “And what if he’s involved in all this somehow? Do you really think it’s safe to go to such a secluded place with him as our only way out?”

  “We can always walk up to the marine reserve. You said it wasn’t far. They must have security people there or park rangers or something. And if not, we can always hitch a ride with one of the tourist boats.”

  I didn’t like it, but I didn’t see any alternative.

  “And if we really get into trouble, we can always call John and Cheryl now that we know where they’re staying.”

  “And why would they help us? The last time I saw Cheryl, she wasn’t speaking to me.”

  “Because I’m 99% sure I’ve figured out what they’re doing here?”

  “What?”

  “They’re the undercover agen
ts.”

  Chapter 51

  “I THOUGHT YOUR DAD wouldn’t tell you?”

  “He didn’t,” she said with a self-satisfied grin. “It’s all elementary my dear Watson. My dad did tell me it was a joint agency task force, which means there are more than one of them, and because it’s our agencies, we know they’re Americans.”

  “Well that narrows it down to eighty percent of the population.”

  “Just think about it. It all makes sense. They befriended you and Michael from the moment you arrived. They went to dinner with you, went dancing with you, played pool with you.”

  “But it all ended the minute they found out that Michael wasn’t really my husband.”

  “Of course, because you were no longer useful. Obviously they had Michael under surveillance. They probably planned on arresting him, figuring he would cut a deal and testify against some drug kingpin. They must’ve assumed you were involved, but once you told them the truth, you were useless.”

  At least this theory made sense. “But how can we know for sure?”

  “Well they’re undercover, so we can’t exactly call up DEA headquarters to verify their identity. But we can contact them directly.”

  “And say what?”

  “After the meeting with Ernesto, I’ll call them and tell them I have information useful to their investigation. If they’re really just honeymooners from Chicago like they told you, they’ll tell me I have the wrong number and hang up. But if they’re really DEA, they’ll want to hear what I have to say. Pretty good, eh?”

  I had to admit, this time she really had worked out all the angles.

  When Jack returned with the supplies—food, water, clean sheets, and a radio—we packed up our bags, left the key under the mat, and headed out to Jack’s boat for what turned out to be a very bumpy ride back to Camus Caye. The wind had picked up and so had the waves.

  “You should have gotten some ginger ale too,” I yelled to Jack over the roar of the engine.

  “I would’ve if I’d known,” he said. “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

  I looked back at Jane who had her head hanging over the side of the boat. “She’ll be fine once we reach dry land.”

  She wasn’t. Not even after a whole bottle of Pelligrino and half a loaf of French bread, which I practically had to force feed her because of its high carb count. I finally put her to bed on the sagging mattress with its new half cotton/half polyester blend sheets.

  “I guess I can go alone,” Jack said. He and Jane were supposed to meet Ernesto back on Parrot Caye at nine.

  Not a chance. Despite all his help, I wasn’t letting him abandon the two of us at the turtle camp while he took off with Jane’s ten thousand dollars. “I’ll go.”

  “Don’t you think Ernesto’s going to recognize you?”

  “If he saw me, maybe. But he’s not going to.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you think you could get the dive boat tonight?”

  “Did you forget? My father thinks I’m in Guatemala this week.”

  “Can’t you tell him you had a fight with your girlfriend and you came back early? You are broken up, aren’t you?”

  “What good with the dive boat do us?” He took a step closer. “Or were you thinking of blowing off Ernesto?” he asked, with a rakish grin.

  As enticing as that offer would’ve been even a few days ago, I was so stressed now that it barely even registered a tingle. “Your boat’s too small for me to hide on, but the dive boat’s not. I’ll go with you, but I’ll stay out of sight.”

  I was expecting an argument, or at least a warning about the risks. Instead I got a flash of disappointment then, “That’s a good idea. Maybe he’ll open up more if he thinks it’s just the two of us.”

  Hmmmm. I couldn’t quite decide if his agreeing with me meant I could trust him or not. I’d take a taser just in case.

  Jack piloted the small skiff to his father’s dive shop on the other side of Camus Caye. At his insistence, I laid flat on the bottom of the boat. “Don’t move,” he said, then threw one of Jane’s new blankets over me. “I’ll be right back.”

  It didn’t take him long, but he didn’t return alone.

  “I still don’t understand,” I heard a gravelly voice say. “How many people—”

  “Dad wait!”

  Then something round and heavy landed on my hip.

  “Ow,” I yelled, rolling both the air tank and the blanket off of me. Standing next to Jack was a fiftyish man with a full beard who had Jack’s blue-gray eyes, but otherwise could’ve passed for Ernest Hemingway’s brother.

  “A party?” the man said, turning to Jack.

  “Dad, this is Lizzie. Lizzie, meet my father.”

  “John Traynor,” he said, setting down the rest of his scuba gear and reaching down to help me out of the boat.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” I said, joining the two of them on the dock. John Traynor’s hands were as warm as Jack’s, and even more calloused.

  “Whatever he told you,” the senior Traynor said, “it’s all lies.”

  I looked at the air tanks on the ground next to him. “You’re going diving at night?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Do you dive?”

  I shook my head. “Not really. But I took Jack’s class last week.”

  He barely glanced at his son. “You haven’t really dived until you’ve tried it at night. It’s a whole different world down there. The treasures!” His whole face lit up. “Once when I was diving off the coast of Bimini—”

  “I’m sure Lizzie doesn’t care, Dad. And we’re in kind of a hurry here, so if you’ll just give me the keys.”

  John Traynor clenched his jaw, but he still pulled a set of keys from his shorts pocket and tossed them at his son. “Have it back here by nine. I’ve got a group leaving at ten.”

  “Will do,” Jack said, leading me away.

  “And don’t forget to gas it up,” John Traynor called out after us.

  “I know, Dad,” Jack said, as if for the thousand time.

  I waited until we were out of hearing range before I said, “Your dad seems interesting.”

  “That’s one word for him,” Jack said before changing the subject back to our meeting with Ernesto.

  The wind was at our back so the ride to Parrot Caye took less time than we’d expected. When Jack tied us off alongside the dock, it was still only a quarter to nine. We needed something to pass the time before Ernesto arrived.

  “So what was it like when you were a kid? Did your dad take you with him on all his adventures?”

  After a long pause, Jack finally answered with one word, “No.”

  Clearly, a sore subject. “So tell me about your girlfriend.”

  “Ex-girlfriend, and there’s nothing to tell.”

  I was too nervous to wait in silence, and I wasn’t all that interested in discussing sea turtles. “Your dad or your girlfriend, you choose.”

  Jack stared at me before he finally said, “Her name’s Candace.”

  Interesting. I would’ve thought he would’ve gone with his dad. They must really be broken up. “Did you call her Candy?”

  “No.”

  “How long did you date?’

  “I don’t know,” he whined.

  “How can you not know? When did you meet?”

  “About a year ago.”

  “So you were together for a year?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess? Either you were or you weren’t.”

  “Does it matter? We dated for a while, then she left for Guatemala, I came here, and it ended.”

  “Was she crushed?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, followed by a harsh laugh.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because she’s shacked up with my best friend.”

  Ouch. “How did you find out?”

  “She told me. Eventually.”

  Double ouch. Being dumped is b
ad enough, but being cheated on by your best friend, that’s serious betrayal. No wonder he was so touchy about the lying at the beginning.

  “My fiancé dumped me the night before our wedding.”

  “Is that why you hooked up with Michael?”

  “I didn’t hook up with Michael. I never even kissed him.”

  “That’s not what—” Jack jumped up. “It’s Ernesto. Cover up,” he said, and threw a pile of life jackets on top of me.

  My heart was pounding, but I tried not to breathe, or at least to breathe as quietly as possible. I had made myself an eye hole between the arms of the life jackets so I was able to see Ernesto as he climbed aboard our boat.

  “Where’s the blond?” Ernesto asked.

  “Detained,” Jack said. “She sent me instead.”

  “Did you bring the money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s see it.”

  Jack reached down next to my pile of life jackets for Jane’s Prada bag, which she’d filled with ten thousand dollars in twenties. He carried the bag to Ernesto and unzipped the top, giving him a glimpse of the money, but when he reached for it, Jack snatched it back. “You’ve seen it. Start talking.”

  “You stupid gringo.”

  Chapter 52

  ERNESTO PULLED SOMETHING LONG and silver from his pocket. Jack jumped back so quickly, I knew it had to be a knife. Ernesto lunged and Jack swung at him with the purse. The money went flying across the deck and Ernesto followed. Jack tackled him on the way down and the two of them, kicking and punching and grunting at each other, rolled back and forth across the floor. I tried to remain frozen, hiding under the life vests, but my heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to jump out of my chest. Then I remembered the stun gun.

  “You bastard!” I screamed, as I burst out from my hiding place and sprinted across the deck. I would’ve had a clear shot at Ernesto’s neck if my foot hadn’t caught in the armhole of one of the life jackets. But I still managed to connect the stun gun with Ernesto’s ankle on my way down to the ground. I don’t know how long I zapped him for, but he collapsed on top of Jack.