by A W Hartoin
Mauro helped me onto the ladder. “I thought Graeme was your suspect.”
“He is, but we couldn’t find the barb. I don’t know. It just feels wrong. Husband’s beat wives to death. They strangle them. Shoot them. How many men make a three-part plan and clean up? Besides, Graeme got to Lucia quickly and went to the hospital with her. He didn’t have time to retrieve the barb.”
“Graeme could have a partner and they could’ve gotten it. Maybe you should ask your dad?”
I climbed over the side of the boat. “Not if I can help it.”
Lucia and Graeme were on the beach under a pair of pink striped umbrellas when we pulled up onto shore. Ever faithful, Aaron sat ten yards away watching them like a nerdy owl. Lucia and Graeme didn’t seem to know he was there. Thank goodness. If I had a guy like that following me, I’d be pretty freaked out and that’s saying something. I’d had some pretty weird guys follow me.
Mauro and I unloaded our tanks and equipment while I watched Graeme out of the corner of my eye. Was he the kind of guy that would hatch an elaborate plan to off his wife? If I knew his financial situation, that might help. Divorce was expensive. Divorce from a Fibonacci, well, that might be straight up unhealthy. Maybe Dr. Carrow, DDS, thought her accidental death was preferable to his.
Graeme kissed Lucia’s forehead and walked off the beach in the direction of the restaurant past Colin the frat boy passed out on a lounge chair with his hat over his face. Finally, a moment alone with Lucia.
“Are we done?” I asked Mauro.
“Yes. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to tell Lucia someone’s trying to kill her.”
“Good luck with that.” Mauro drove off and I walked over to Lucia.
She put down her book, “P” is for Peril. “Mercy, where have you been?”
“Actually I wanted to talk to you about that. May I sit down?”
“Of course.”
I looked to wave Aaron over. He could be my character witness or at least Dad’s character witness. But Aaron was gone. He abandoned his post, the twerp. I sat and tried to look reliable, not something I’m great at, especially with the hair from hell.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Not great. I think I just need to rest. The painkillers help. Thanks for those.”
“Don’t mention it. I don’t know how to tell you this, but Mauro and I went out to try and find the stingray barb. He thinks it wasn’t a native species.”
“Really? That’s weird.”
“I agree. It’s even weirder that it’s not where you dropped it. The barb is gone.”
“Oh.” Lucia looked so pretty with her big eyes and fluffy dark hair. I hated to wipe that innocent expression off her face.
“Somebody took it,” I said.
“It would be a cool souvenir, I guess.”
“I don’t think it’s a souvenir. I think it’s evidence.”
There. I did it.
Lucia tilted her head. “Evidence that I got stung?”
I guess I didn’t do it. Second try. “Evidence of attempted murder.”
She gasped and put her hand on her chest. “There was a murder? Who was it? Oh my god!”
Wow. I really stink at this.
“No. No. Of an attempted murder of…um…you.” I bit my lip and waited for her to freak.
Instead, she laughed. She laughed so hard, she had to wipe the tears away. “Oh, Mercy. That’s a good one.”
“I’m serious, Lucia. Truly I am. Look at what’s happened on this island, since you got here. The missing inhalers. Two broken regs and a stabbing. You have to listen to me.”
“Who would try to kill me? I’m a housewife. I volunteer and walk the dog.”
“Well, usually in cases like this, the police look at the husband.”
She laughed again with fresh tears and everything. I felt like an idiot. Surely a woman with a violent husband wouldn’t think this was so crazy.
“Graeme’s a dentist for heaven’s sake. A dentist,” she said.
“Dentists can kill people.”
“Name one killer dentist.”
Oh, crap. She had me. I couldn’t think of one.
“There are a lot of killer husbands,” I said.
“How would you know that?” She held up her novel. “Have you been reading a lot of murder mysteries?”
This was not going the way I thought it would. “I never read them. My father’s a retired police detective. I’ve lived with crime my whole life. I don’t want to read about it.”
Graeme walked up. “Ah, the two most beautiful ladies on the island.” I think he cringed when he looked at me. “What are you talking about?”
Lucia took a mug of coffee from him. “Mercy thinks you’re trying to kill me.”
“Well, that is on my bucket list.” He sat on the end of Lucia’s chair and they clinked mugs.
I’m sure I’ve felt stupider at some point in my life, but I sure didn’t know when.
“Look, I have some experience in this area. You should listen to me,” I said.
“Are you a cop or something?” asked Graeme. I detected no worry in his eyes. Confident bastard.
“My dad’s Tommy Watts.” I hated to do it, but I had to pull out the rep. “He’s kind of a famous detective.”
Lucia brightened up. “Tall guy with red hair. Kind of gangly?”
“That’s him.”
Lucia pushed Graeme’s shoulder. “The master of ceremonies at the last Policeman’s Benevolent Association dinner.”
“That’s your dad?” asked Graeme with a shocked look. “There’s no resemblance at all.”
“It’s all on the inside. So you two were at the PBA dinner?”
“I organize fundraising for the Widows and Orphans Fund,” said Lucia.
Didn’t see that coming. A Fibonacci at a dinner for cops. WTF.
“Um…that’s nice. So I’m trying to tell you that I know what I’m talking about. Nobody has that many accidents, Lucia.”
Graeme took a sip of coffee and looked at me quietly. I think he was trying to detect some Tommy Watts in my face. Good luck. I was all Mom on the outside. “Accidents happen, Mercy. This has just been an unlucky trip.”
“Or very lucky trip, depending on how you look at it,” I said.
Lucia patted my shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not worried. No one would take the trouble of murdering me. I’m not that interesting.”
In other words, you’re crazy.
“Please be careful,” I said. “There is cause for concern. You should stay on the resort where there are guards.”
“We’re not letting some freak accidents ruin our vacation,” said Graeme.
“Once I feel better, we’re going on a glass-bottomed boat tour,” said Lucia, smiling. “Don’t worry. Those are pretty benign, unless a fish jumps in the boat and bites me.”
There was nothing I could do. Lucia couldn’t conceive of a killer husband or any threat at all. As a bonus, Graeme now knew I suspected him and could come after me, if he was the one. I suppose I should’ve been afraid, but I sensed no malice from him. I’d been fooled before, so all I could do was cross my fingers and hope.
“Mind if I take a look at your leg?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
I lifted the skirt of her long cover-up and frowned at the stain of yellow pus that had soaked through the bandage. Lucia winced as I peeled back the tape and gauze. The wound had swollen to twice the size it had been the night before. It was gaping open, red, and hot to the touch.
“That doesn’t look good,” said Graeme.
“No, it doesn’t. You definitely have an infection. The Keflex should be taking care of it. Did you take your dose yet today?”
“I thought I should wait until the same time as yesterday,” said Lucia.
“Let’s go ahead and take it now. I’d like to soak it in Epsom salts as well.”
“You brought Epsom salts with you on vaca
tion?”
“I wish I had. I’ll get Aaron on it. If there are Epsom salts on the island, he’ll find them,” I said.
“Your little guy is pretty interesting,” said Graeme. “So are you two—”
“Oh my god no. Why do people think he’s my significant other?”
Lucia laughed. “You’re always together.”
“Not by choice. He’s kind of my partner. He’s supposed to look after me, if you can believe that,” I said.
“I can believe it. He’s alway right there with whatever you need.”
“And it’s not that weird,” said Graeme. “Beautiful women marry odd men all the time. Have you seen Bill Gates’ wife?”
“He’s loaded,” I said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Aaron had money,” said Lucia. “He’s a genius in the kitchen.”
“I’ll give you that. I’m going to see about those salts. Graeme, can you go get the Keflex?”
He headed to the room. I ordered an ice water for Lucia and rewrapped the wound. “I’ll put new bandages on after we soak it.” I bit my lip and glanced around. The beach was packed. Colin was awake and now pounding beers with Andrew and Joe. A bunch of cruise ship passengers were totally wasted and dancing in their Brazilian bikinis and nearly flattening small children if they wandered too close. If it wasn’t Graeme and I wasn’t ready to concede that yet, it could be anybody. There were a lot of anybodies on that beach.
Lucia patted my hand. “You don’t have to stay here with me. Nothing will happen. Even if you’re right, I’m right out here in the open.”
“I just can’t leave you,” I said.
“You’re wonderful for caring, but I’m telling you it can’t be true. It just can’t. I have good luck, not bad. It’s kind of a family thing.”
It was the first time I’d heard a hint of her family connections. Fibonaccis were famous for their luck as well as other things. Lucia had been pretty lucky so far.
“Sometimes we have to make our own luck,” I said, still looking around.
Aunt Tenne and Bruno weren’t on the swings anymore. But Mom and Dixie were coming down the path to the beach carrying mimosas. “My mom’s coming. Please don’t tell her what I said.”
“Why not?” asked Lucia.
“No crimes or talk of crime allowed. We’re supposed to be having a girl trip.”
“You brought Aaron on a girl trip?”
“I don’t bring him anywhere. He just shows up. So you’ll keep mum about the whole suspicious accident thing?” I asked.
“I will, but I kind of want to see what would happen.”
Mom tells Dad. Dad finds out you’re a Fibonacci. Dad hits roof.
“Probably just a stern lecture, but I try to avoid those whenever possible. You know how family can be.”
She settled back on her lounge and tipped down the brim of her broad sunhat, so that I couldn’t see her eyes. “Yes, I certainly do.”
I left and intercepted Mom and Dixie while they were ordering lounge chairs to be brought down for them.
“Hey, Mom. Can you keep an eye on Lucia for a little bit?”
“Why? She’s not three.”
Cause someone’s trying to kill her a lot.
“Her leg is worse and I need to find her some Epsom salts. If she throws up, or does anything unusual, come get me immediately. I’ll be in the room.”
“Sure,” said Dixie. “We’d be happy to.”
Dixie did look happy, but Mom gave me the suspicious look she usually reserved for Dad. “Isn’t this unusual for such a minor wound?”
“I wouldn’t call it minor and stingrays are poisonous. Just watch her. Okay?” I rushed away down a back path before Mom could question me further. She wouldn’t have needed to question me, if she gave the situation a moment of thought. She knew everything that had happened to Lucia. She just needed to string the events together. If she did, I was toast. The last thing I wanted was Dad flying down to Roatan to take over between sessions of yelling at me.
Since I had no discernible sense of direction, I wandered around on those twisted, shady paths for a good ten minutes. Getting lost doesn’t usually work out for me. I tend to end up at the right place at the wrong time. The most notable incident was in tenth grade when I got lost under the gym trying to find the tennis equipment lockup and discovered my crush, Brennan Glock, kissing our english lit teacher who happened to be a dude. I still said yes two weeks later when Brennan asked me to Homecoming, because he was the only one who asked, being the only one who really didn’t care if I said no. I told him what I saw over dinner and we became a special kind of friends. It turned out that I was the only who knew he was gay (besides Mr. Heck), and it remained that way for another decade.
Most recently, I’d found a fellow nurse stuffing a patient’s Schedule II drugs in her panties. Don’t ask me why. She had pockets. On this unlucky day, I saw the Gmucas sneaking down the path behind the bungalows. Frankie whispered to Linda and they disappeared behind Lucia and Graeme’s. I crept through the foliage to the bungalow next door and peeked around the corner. Frankie was jiggling the back door handle.
Holy crap!
Linda whispered in Frankie’s ear and kissed his cheek. How touching. You just became suspects with a capital S.
I stepped out into the open. “Hi, guys. What’s ya doing?”
Frankie and Linda turned matching shades of red. “Um…Um…”
“Is that your bungalow?”
Linda looked at the door and feigned surprised. “Oh, my gosh. It isn’t. This is so embarrassing. Let’s go, Frankie.”
“We were just, you know, going back to our room,” said Frankie.
“Through the back door?” I asked.
“We…um.”
“Come on, Frankie.” Linda dragged her husband away before he could finish his sentence, which certainly didn’t make them look any better.
I watched them go into their bungalow three doors down and then got on the right path to the room. Before I came out of the palms I smelled the most amazing smell. Aaron. Not Aaron personally. He usually smelled like hot dogs or crab, but Aaron’s cooking. I was getting so that I could pick his style out of a lineup. Aaron was the only person I would ever know that could make the air succulent.
The water pail next to our steps was clean and fresh. I wrecked it and ran up the stairs to find Aaron squatting next to two hibachis. One had a small saucepan, bubbling with a light brown liquid. The other was covered in fruit, pineapples, mangos, peaches, and, oddly, watermelon. Opposite Aaron sat Todd the Land’s End dad on the deck chair, wearing a pink polo, ironed, and with a perfect tan.
“You hungry?” asked Aaron.
“I am now,” I said. “Hi, Todd.”
“Hello, Mercy.” Todd winced when he looked at me. I pictured my hair resembling something Lady Gaga would have, only worse. “Aaron offered to make breakfast and there’s no way I could resist. Tracy’s taking the kids snorkeling for the morning at Half Moon Bay. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
“You might’ve been hoping for a romantic breakfast, just the two of you.”
“Not you, too. Aaron and I aren’t a thing. He’s…he’s my dad’s best friend’s Dungeons and Dragon’s buddy.”
“And World of Warcraft,” said Aaron.
“That, too.”
“And Star Wars: Force Unleashed.”
“You’re not helping,” I said. “We’re not together. We’re really, really not together. Please tell people that.”
“But you’re on vacation together,” said Todd.
“It’s complicated.”
“We’re partners,” said Aaron.
“Really not helping. We’re sort of partners in work. We do research for my dad. It’s boring,” I said. “What’s for breakfast?”
Aaron lifted the edge of a pineapple. “Grilled fruit salad with honey lime syrup.”
“Smells great,” I said. “Do you happen to know where I can
get some Epsom salts?”
“Yeah.”
I waited for a second, but nothing more seemed to be coming, so I asked, “And where would that be?”
“Julia’s.”
I tried to run my fingers through my hair, but they got stuck. “Aaron, you make me tired. Can you get them for me? Lucia needs to soak her wound.”
He mumbled something I took for a yes and I went in for a quick shower. It didn’t help much. I looked like I’d angered my hair permanently. When I came out swathed in towels and leave-in conditioner, Aaron was chopping fruit on top of our little apartment fridge in the corner. I watched him for a moment, peeling and chopping with precision. I’d never seen him in action before. I have to say it was impressive. It would’ve been even more impressive if he hadn’t had a foot wide ketchup stain on the seat of his shorts. How do you sit in that much ketchup and not notice it?
“Are you going to get the Epsom salts,” I said.
“Got ‘em,” he said, holding up a small wrinkled paperbag.
“Already?”
He shrugged and kept chopping.
“Thanks.” I took the bag out on the porch and found Todd engrossed in a paperback, Catch-22. I couldn’t ask him to take the salts. As benign as he seemed, he was still a suspect. I passed him by, ran down the steps, and found Marcella coming onto the path from the dive shop. “Can you do me a favor?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said.
“Take these salts down to my mother on the beach. She’ll know what to do.”
“Any new suspects?”
“Not yet.”
Marcella took off for the beach and I went back to find Aaron still in my room, muttering over a mixing bowl.
“Aaron, I need a favor.” Not sure how to ask this. “Do you have Spidermonkey’s phone number?”
“Spidermonkey the hacker?”
“How many Spidermonkeys do you know?”
“Morty hates Spidermonkey.”
“I know, but I need information and I can’t ask Uncle Morty.”
“How come?”
“Cause he’ll tell Dad.”
“So.”
Because I’m trying to hide stuff, you nutbag.
“Because I can handle this Lucia thing on my own. I don’t need Dad calling me up and interfering. You know how he is.”