Honeymoon for One

by Beth Orsoff

  I heard someone calling my name and I looked out to the ocean. Officer Juan was waving to me from Sergeant Ramos’ boat.

  “You okay, Lizzie?”

  I looked down at my bloody shirt. “I will be.”

  “Good,” he said, then went back to doing whatever it was he was doing on the boat. Probably reading a magazine.

  Rodrigo and Jack set Ernesto down in the sand and Rodrigo checked his wound. “I didn’t hit anything important,” Rodrigo told him. “You’ll live.”

  Ernesto replied in Spanish, but I don’t think he was thanking him.

  Rodrigo turned to me next. “Which one of them did this?” he asked, as he pushed up my shirt sleeve and inspected my wound.

  “John, but it was an accident. He was aiming for Fred.”

  “Who’s Fred?” he asked.

  Jack and I looked around the beach. Jack spotted him first, inching his way through the sand. His circle had widened considerably. At this rate, he might make it to the ocean by nightfall.

  “A turtle?” Rodrigo said.

  “When Jack brought me to the turtle camp—”

  “Later,” Rodrigo said. “Right now I need you to give me your statement.”

  Obviously he wasn’t a turtle person. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “How about explaining exactly what the three of you were doing back in that cabin.”

  “Yeah,” Jack said folding his arms across his chest, “I’d like to hear that one myself.”

  Chapter 63

  AFTER JANE TOLD CHERYL everything she knew, and I told Rodrigo everything I knew, they compared notes. Our stories matched enough for them to take us back to the Parrot Caye Police Station without handcuffs. That’s when we found out who they really were.

  Jane was half right. Cheryl was a DEA agent. But she wasn’t married to John, she was dating Rodrigo, who worked for the U.S. Customs agency. Rodrigo explained that they were both part of an inter-agency task force set up to infiltrate a local drug and antiquities smuggling ring with ties to a much larger Mexican cartel.

  “But I thought Ernesto worked for you?” I said to Rodrigo. “At least that’s the way it seemed that night we met you with Michael’s sister.”

  “He did,” he said. “I was undercover too. I tried to warn you. I told you that jade in your suitcase was fake.”

  “Yeah, but when we got it analyzed they found Michael’s blood.”

  “That was an unfortunate turn of events,” he said.

  “Yes, especially for me. But since you knew I didn’t kill Michael, why didn’t you come forward?”

  “I couldn’t,” he said. “Not without blowing my cover and a year-long operation.”

  “So you were going to let me just rot in jail forever?”

  “No,” Rodrigo said, straining to keep his voice even. “I was working behind the scenes. I’m the one who arranged for your transfer to Parrot Caye. We planned to extract you during the transfer, but you disappeared the night before. It didn’t take us long to figure out where you were, but—”

  “You knew?”

  “Of course we knew. You didn’t really think that disguise fooled anyone, did you?”

  I turned to Jane. “I told you no one would believe I’m a guy. You made me cut my hair for nothing.”

  “It’ll grow,” she said, without even a hint of remorse.

  I turned back to Rodrigo. “Then why didn’t you extract me, or whatever you call it, from Parrot Caye?”

  “Because there was no need to. You weren’t in jail and you weren’t in any danger. Not until you contacted Ernesto.”

  “But what about the notes?” Jane asked.

  “What notes?” Rodrigo said.

  “The gringo go home notes,” I said.

  “I didn’t know about any notes.”

  We all turned to Jack.

  “What are you looking at me for?” Jack said.

  “You’re the one who found them,” I reminded him.

  “No,” he said, “You found the first one. I found the second.”

  I continued to stare at him. He looked guilty.

  “I told you I thought the first one was local kids playing a prank.”

  “And the second one?” I asked.

  “You were taking too many chances. I just wanted to scare you a little.”

  “I can’t believe you. You almost killed Fred!”

  “I didn’t almost kill Fred. I was holding him up to the noose, waiting for you to walk in.”

  We continued to bicker when Jane interrupted. “Well I for one would like to know who really killed Michael.”

  “We think it was Ernesto,” Rodrigo said.

  “You think?” Jane said.

  “He’s already confessed to one of the local officers, but we need to make sure it wasn’t coerced.”

  None of us wanted to know any more about that.

  “Ernesto told us Manuel did it,” I said.

  Rodrigo smiled. “It wasn’t Manuel.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I know,” he said.

  “Is he an under cover agent too?” Jane asked.

  Rodrigo closed his pad and put the cap back on his pen. “I think we’re done here.”

  “Wait,” I said. “What about the jade head?”

  “What about it?” Cheryl asked, walking into the interrogation room.

  “Did Ernesto have it after all? Is that why he killed Michael?”

  “Ask Jack,” she said.

  Jane and I turned to face him.

  Jack picked up the mesh bag he’d been carrying since we arrived at Parrot Caye and set it on the table. From inside the folds of a life jacket, he pulled out a six-inch-tall jade statue in the shape of a head. It was similar to the picture I’d seen in the magazine, except this one had a long serpent nose.

  “You had it all along!”

  “No, I found it this morning at my dad’s house. After the turtle camp burned down, I had nowhere else to go.”

  “Your dad stole the head?” This was unbelievable.

  “He didn’t steal it, he found it. He picked it up diving that night you met him on the dock. He said it was hidden in an underwater cave not far from the Blue Bay. I found it this morning under a pile of fishing nets he wanted me to fix.”

  “Why didn’t you call us?”

  “I did,” he said. “I left a message on Jane’s cell, but when you never called back I started to get nervous. That’s when I called Cheryl.”

  “You’re lucky I checked the voicemail,” Cheryl said, folding the head back up in the life jacket and tucking it under her arm. “If John had picked up the message, things might’ve turned out very differently.”

  “So Michael hid the head in an underwater cave?” I didn’t even know he knew how to dive.

  “We think he was planning on coming back for it,” Rodrigo said. “Probably without Ernesto’s knowledge. It’s too significant a piece to sell just to launder drug money. Michael knew that. He probably planned on bringing it to a dig site where he could pretend to discover it. A find like that can make a career.”

  “And Ernesto wouldn’t go along with it?” I asked.

  “We think Michael made the mistake of telling Ernesto how valuable it was,” Cheryl said. “That’s when Ernesto contacted John, who offered him half a million for it. John knew he could get five times that much at auction.”

  “John’s an antiquities dealer?” Jane asked.

  “And a money launderer,” Cheryl said.

  “But not the father of your baby?” I asked, although I probably should’ve waited until Rodrigo left the room.

  “That would be me,” Rodrigo said.

  “John and I were business partners,” Cheryl said, “or he thought we were. It was all part of the sting.”

  “But why did you pretend to be married?” I asked, remembering the story of their elaborate wedding on the lake. I wasn’t going to mention the king-size bed.

  “That was John’s idea
,” Cheryl said. “He thought we’d have an easier time getting through customs on the way back if we pretended we were down here on our honeymoon. It’s a common ruse.”

  “Is anyone in this country actually married?” Jane asked. “Or are you all just pretending?”

  Rodrigo smiled. “Michael always traveled with his girlfriend for the same reason. So when he suddenly showed up with you, we thought you might be in on it with him.”

  “Is that why you were so friendly to me at the hotel?” I asked Cheryl. “You were checking me out.”

  “That was just luck,” she said. “Michael doesn’t usually stay at the Blue Bay. But since you two were there, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

  “See,” Jane said. “I was right about Michael. If you had listened to me, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “And if you hadn’t come down here to play girl detective, none of the rest of it would’ve happened.”

  “I can’t believe you would actually try to pin this on me. You’re the one—”

  “I still have a question,” Jack said, interrupting our argument. “Who planted the jade in Lizzie’s suitcase?”

  That was a good question.

  “It was Michael, wasn’t it?” Jane said. “He was using Lizzie as his mule.”

  “It wasn’t Michael,” I said. “It was Ernesto, so the police would suspect me of the murder instead of him.”

  Rodrigo and Cheryl looked at each other, then back at us.

  “It was Juan Martinez,” Cheryl said.

  “Who’s Juan Martinez?” Jane and I both asked, practically in unison.

  “Officer Juan Martinez,” Rodrigo said, “formerly of the Camus Caye Police Department.”

  “You’re kidding,” I said. “He was always so nice to me.”

  “You’re so gullible,” Jane said. “You think anyone who’s nice on the surface can’t be a bad guy underneath.”

  “I do not! I just don’t look for conspiracies everywhere the way you do.”

  “Ladies,” Cheryl said, “please. We only found out ourselves a few days ago. We asked Sergeant Ramos to wait to arrest him until after we had Ernesto in custody.”

  “How did you find out?” Jack asked.

  “We always knew someone in that department was working with the drug dealers,” Cheryl said.

  “We just didn’t know who,” Rodrigo added.

  “There are only two of them,” I pointed out. How hard could it be? Jane and I were amateurs, but they were supposed to be professionals.

  “There used to be a third,” Cheryl said. “We busted him in Belize City last week. He gave Juan up and a few others.”

  “But why?” I asked. “What was in it for him?”

  “Juan was just following orders,” Cheryl said. “You met him, so you know he’s not a criminal mastermind.”

  “But where did he get the jade?” Jane asked. “Did Ernesto give it to him?”

  “He wouldn’t have had to,” Rodrigo said. “It’s everywhere down here, both real and fake.”

  When ten seconds passed with no one asking a question, Rodrigo stood up.

  “Wait!” I shouted. “What about my passport?”

  “We should have that for you tomorrow.” Rodrigo handed me his pad and pen. “Write down where you’re staying and I’ll have someone drop it off in the morning.”

  “I don’t think we have a place anymore,” I said.

  “You can use my room,” Cheryl tossed a key card onto the table. “I won’t be needing it any more,” she added and gave Rodrigo’s hand a squeeze.

  “Great,” Jane said, grabbing the room key. “We can stop by the gift shop on our way in. I cannot possibly spend one more minute in these disgusting clothes.”

  Chapter 64

  AFTER JANE DROPPED $500 in the hotel’s gift shop for three new outfits even though we were leaving the next day, we went back to the room to shower and change before dinner. I spent $100 myself, the last money in my checking account, but only because it was the first time in weeks that I could go out without worrying about being spotted by the police. I wanted to celebrate.

  When Jack knocked on our hotel room door that night, he was the most dressed up I’d ever seen him. He was actually wearing pants and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He’d even styled his hair back, although I later realized it was just wet. As soon as it dried it was back in his eyes again.

  After dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, Jack insisted we take a cab to a local club where we just happened to run into a single male friend of Jack’s, who just happened to be immensely attracted to Jane. I had no trouble believing the second part, but the first part was a little suspicious.

  “So you live on Parrot Caye?” I asked Jack’s friend, Bill, while we stood at the bar waiting for our drinks.

  “No,” he said, “I’m just here for the night. I’m working on a research project at the marine reserve on Camus Caye.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Not really,” Bill said, oblivious to my sarcasm. “It’s a half hour boat ride then another ten minutes on the bike, but Jack convinced me I need to get out more.”

  “I imagine he can be very convincing when he wants to be,” I said looking directly at Jack, who wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Yes,” Jane agreed, “Will you two excuse us for a minute while we run to the ladies room.” She grabbed my arm before I even had time to set down my drink.

  “Watch it,” I said, as she dragged me down the hall to the ladies room. “You’re pulling out my stitches.”

  “All two of them?” she said.

  “That’s just because I’m a good clotter. Otherwise I would’ve needed four.” At least that’s what the E.R. doctor had told me.

  Jane looked at her watch. “It’s nine-fifteen. I’m giving you two hours. Bill’s not bad-looking, but he’s a total bore.”

  “Two hours to what?”

  Jane stared at me. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “No,” I said, and shoved my drink at her. Then I ran back to the bar and grabbed Jack.

  We managed to keep our clothes on in the cab, but it was only a five minute ride back to the hotel.

  “We should get our own room,” I suggested to Jack as we entered the lobby. After all this time, two hours wasn’t nearly long enough.

  “I tried,” he said. “They’re booked.”

  “We could try another.”

  “The closest is a bed and breakfast at the other end of town. It’s not very nice and it’s ten minutes away.”

  After jail and the turtle hatchery, not very nice was good enough, but ten minutes was way too long to wait.

  We were kissing and grabbing at each other’s clothes even before we closed the door to my and Jane’s shared room. It took all of five seconds for Jack to ease us over to the king-size bed.

  “We can’t,” I said, having already unbuttoned his shirt. He had his hands under my dress.

  “Why not?”

  “Not in the bed. Jane’ll know.”

  “So what?”

  “You know what a clean freak she is. She changes the sheets ten minutes after she has sex.”

  “Then we’ll change the sheets,” he said, tugging at my panties.

  I pulled away from him and looked around the room. “The rollaway.” I pointed to the folded up cot still standing in the corner.

  After a little more convincing, Jack finally let go of me and opened the rollaway bed—in record time. We immediately picked up where we’d left off, but something wasn’t right.

  “Do you smell that?” I said.

  “Smell what?” He’d gotten my panties off and was unzipping his pants.

  I buried my head in the pillow and inhaled. “It’s John’s cologne. It’s freaking me out.”

  “For God’s sake, Lizzie, you’re killing me here.”

  We tried the couch next, but it was just too narrow.

  We finally ended up in the shower, which is really
more appropriate for a one night stand anyway. Plus, I’d always wanted to do it standing up. (Steven always insisted it was bad for his back.) Then we moved to the bathroom floor (the hotel had very fluffy towels), and finally the bedroom floor. We were in the shower again when Jane returned.

  “I’m home,” she yelled. “Time to put your clothes back on.”

  Jack and I were drying each other off when we realized that our clothes were still in a heap on the floor next to the rollaway. I was about to wrap myself in a towel to fetch them when Jane knocked on the door. I pushed Jack back into the shower and cracked the door open. Jane had one hand over her eyes, and the other outstretched holding Jack’s clothes.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Do you want me to wait outside?” she asked.

  “If you wouldn’t mind.” Jane knew, and even if she didn’t, I’d tell her anyway, but it would be less awkward if she wasn’t there when Jack left.

  “Ten more minutes,” she said. “I need my beauty sleep.”

  “Make it fifteen.” Enough time for one more quickie.

  Chapter 65

  Three Months Later

  I WAS REALLY GLAD I’d had that night with Jack before Jane and I left Belize, because I didn’t have much to celebrate when I returned to L.A.

  If Steven hadn’t left me a note informing me that he was taking the furniture, I would’ve thought we’d been robbed. The living room couch was gone, along with the stereo, computer and TV. He said he left me the bedroom set, but only because he wanted to buy new stuff anyway. Sure it was all his, but still . . . .

  My first call was to my parents to explain that I hadn’t actually spent the last three weeks backpacking through Belize as Jane had told them. They were furious at me for lying to them, even though I only did it because I didn’t want them to worry. Sometimes you can’t win.

  The next calls were to every editor I knew. A few were understanding and promised they’d send new assignments my way soon, but most didn’t. This presented a major problem since, besides all the money I owed Jane, I was now paying the rent for Steven’s and my two-bedroom apartment on my own, plus I’d maxed out my last credit card to pay for my return ticket from Belize.