Under the Jamaican Moon (Katy Marshall Romantic Mysteries Book 1)

by Sheila Lee Hall

  Kutsun had a husky voice that occasionally would revert to a squeaky tone. Katy guessed that he was only in his sixties — even though his appearance made him look much older. He did seem like a nice, older, respected professional man who had worked hard all his life. Katy would later think back to this first meeting and wonder how she had been so mistaken.

  As Kutsun explained his problems, Katy had to smile. She wondered how Henderson would like to handle this case, since it was obvious he would not get his usual fees — if any. Kutsun had been complaining about the “fracking” ban being instituted in many of his oil and gas lease areas. “Fracking for oil and gas,” he said, “is not dangerous because it is done so far below the surface.”

  Hearing these comments, Katy continued to smile. Several months ago she had interviewed a petroleum geologist on whether or not “fracking” for oil and gas was dangerous. His reply was that the oil and gas industry would always deny that any danger existed. “From a personal viewpoint,” he said, “it is very dangerous.” He had made many subsurface geologic maps in different areas, and they all showed the same thing. There were many subsurface fractures and faulting in all areas he mapped that would permit millions of gallons of toxic chemicals to migrate to the surface because all of these fractures would interconnect with each other. All aquifers would be polluted in the future, given enough time.

  Kutsun now proposed lunch and mentioned a local eatery that was known to be very expensive. He insisted he would pay for both of them, as he was so lucky to have her as his guest.

  The first scotch and soda had Kutsun waxing philosophically on his life. The second had him digging into Katy’s life with much interest. With the third scotch and soda, he became Katy’s best friend. He mentioned that he also liked Las Vegas and was thinking about going there too for New Year’s Eve. Their lunch lasted until the middle of the afternoon. It was time to head back to the office.

  As Katy drove the rush-hour traffic, she thought of several things that seemed rather strange in her meeting with Kutsun. She had noticed several people at different tables pointing at them during lunch and trying not to be noticed while doing it. As they were leaving the restaurant, an older woman rushed up to them and asked Kutsun if Helen had turned up yet. Kutsun ignored her and abruptly continued on to his car. Who was Helen, Katy wondered, and why was she missing?

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  The seventy-dollar taxi ride to Denver International Airport (DIA) had Katy talking to herself. She then had to fight through the security line and crowded terminal to get to her gate. What had seemed like a good idea about meeting Mary Jo in Las Vegas was not going to be easy. As she was preparing to board her flight, a voice said, “Hi Katy.” She turned halfway around and froze — the speaker was Sam Kutsun.

  “It looks like we are going to be on the same plane,” he said with a big smile.

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  Sunlight had started to creep around the hotel room curtains as Katy managed to finally open her eyes the next morning. The blinking clock radio said 7:59 a.m. She didn’t seem to remember anything after arriving at the Hilton, except a phone call from Mary Jo. Her memory failed at that point. She couldn’t remember if she had returned the call or not. Her eyes finally came into focus as she stumbled toward the bathroom door. As she moved a chair and quilt that was partly blocking her path, her eyes suddenly came to rest on a fully clad male figure sprawled across the couch. It was Sam Kutsun, so drunk that he appeared to be dead.

  This scene so unnerved Katy that she sat back down on the bed. She just sat there so completely bewildered that it was impossible to move. Her eyes eventually wandered over the nearby desk/table that held a flower bouquet, with a white official something leaning against it. Finally, summoning all her strength, she leaned over and picked it up. Her eyes were blurring so badly that it was difficult to read the print. She was looking at a copy of a marriage license with her name and the name of Sam Kutsun on it!

  Finally, after much indecision, she came to the conclusion on what needed to be done. With much prodding, she managed to get him partly to his feet and into the bathroom where she unceremoniously shoved him into the bath tub. Turning the water to cold, she turned it on full force. As the tub started to fill, she wondered how long it would take to get some answers from him.

  The Blue Dolphin

  The setting sun had started to mute the verdant southern coast of Jamaica, but an occasional brown patch showed where different areas had been mined for bauxite aluminum ore. Katy Marshall had been so absorbed with what had happened to her in the last few days that she had not been paying attention to the coastline as she leaned against the railing of the Blue Dolphin.

  “Mai Tai?”

  The question caused Katy to smile. Juan was back again. “Yes, give me another one. How did you know that I had finished the last one you brought me?”

  Juan smiled. “I am only deck hand but I pay attention to guests.”

  Katy had to smile again. “What part of Cuba do you come from?”

  Juan’s face expressed surprise. “I come from Isla de los Muertos. I thought you knew that.”

  Katy had to acknowledge that Juan had told her that name — Isla de los Muertos. The saying suddenly registered with Katy. “That means Island of the Dead. Are you kidding me?”

  “Oh no. That’s the actual name, but local people call it ‘Zombie Island’.”

  Katy had a hard time accepting that explanation. “There was a low-grade movie made in the 1970s somewhere in the Caribbean called Zombie Island, but it flopped as a movie. Is this name a hangover from that movie?”

  “No, I see zombies myself. No movies made near my island. Many persons see zombies near graveyard. They only walk at night.”

  “Okay, I won’t argue with you. If you have seen them I will have to believe you. What does the island look like?”

  His description of a small coastal island off the southern coast of Jamaica sounded rather appealing. There was an exotic resort on the western end of the island that had frequent wealthy visitors from Europe. The island had remote beaches that were very romantic under the Jamaican moon — so far away from newspaper reporters and photographers.

  Juan stopped to consider what he may have missed describing. “You will probably not see the island as we will sail past it in the darkness. Sometimes, if the moon is full, you can see the beaches.”

  Katy had to sit down on the deck chair to finish her Mai Tai after Juan had left. She wouldn’t be here if Mary Jo had managed to turn up in Las Vegas! After the episode with Sam Kutsun, she had managed to find her cell phone with Mary Jo’s message on it.

  “Katy, I’m so sorry, I don’t think I’m going to make it to Las Vegas. All plane flights have been cancelled for several days. We have a complete shut down here in Tennessee, plus I am starting to feel sick. I’m starting to wonder if it could be morning sickness.”

  That phone call had answered one question. Katy still didn’t know what to make of the marriage license. After Sam Kutsun had been rescued from the bathtub, he pretended not to know anything about their “marriage.” His actions indicated that he knew otherwise, more than he was admitting.

  Katy had studied the marriage license with great interest. Her signature was shaky, hardly readable. It was hers all right; there was no doubt about it. Sam Kutsun’s signature, however, was bold, nicely written, no indication of his being drunk. Was it possible, Katy wondered, that somebody had held her writing hand to guide her signature? The thought also flickered across her mind, if Sam Kutsun hadn’t gotten so drunk, would she ever have seen the license. Had Kutsun been so drunk that he forgot which room he was in?

  Her suspicions had grown when Kutsun had left her room that morning. A maid cleaning the hallway commented that Katy seemed better than last night. Two men had laughingly hailed her down to get a roo
m key for a woman they were supporting that they said was drunk. Katy however, had given up drinking any kind of alcohol after her wild college days.

  Several hours ago, Juan had appeared with the first Mai Tai. Katy had succumbed to the temptation. Katy had at one point questioned Juan about her cabin accommodations and was told she had an upper bunk. Sam Kutsun usually slept in the lower bunk.

  “You mean Sam Kutsun has been here before?”

  “Oh yes, he comes here several times a year.”

  Katy tried to get her head around his answer. “He comes here several times a year by himself?”

  “Oh no, he brings different women each time. I think the last one was Helen.”

  “Are you sure there were different women? Could it be the same lady with a different hair style?”

  Juan mumbled and rubbed his head as he said, “No, there was one lady named Samantha; then there was one named…” but the name had escaped Juan as he slapped his head with the side of his hand. Finally he came up with the name Gretchen.

  It was starting to be impossible to figure out why Kutsun had issued his invitation for a Caribbean “cruise.” It came after Sam Kutsun had left her Hilton hotel room in Las Vegas. He came back to beg her forgiveness; he wanted to make up for his rudeness. He said if she had a week left of her vacation time, he would arrange a Caribbean cruise. He had never been in the Caribbean, so it would be an adventure for him as well.

  Katy now regretted that she had jumped at the invitation. She had missed New Year’s Eve with Mary Jo, so why not do something else more exciting. However, she was not expecting this kind of “cruise.” The flight to Montego Bay on the north coast, then a short hop by seaplane to the southwestern end of Jamaica had been exhausting. But now, to sleep on an upper bunk on a sailing ship, where was all of this going? One thing was obvious. Samuel Winfield Kutsun was up to something, but what?

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  The Blue Dolphin was a sailing ship that had seen better days. Over fifty feet in length, it had been converted more as a cargo vessel than one with passenger comfort in mind. Besides its sails, it had been retrofitted with two 450-horsepower diesel engines for use when wind power alone proved inadequate.

  Katy had walked around the interior of the ship’s railing before it left anchorage. It certainly was not a ship she would have picked to sail the Caribbean. It did seem to confirm her feeling that Sam Kutsun was down on his luck. She had met the captain who had greeted her with a big hello. “Well, I hope you like sailing with us.” He had a dark complexion, but he definitely was not a South American. Katy guessed he could be Turkish.

  The crew consisted of between eight and ten dark-skinned deck hands. Katy wasn’t sure of their origins. Each one resembled all the others, so it was difficult to get an exact count. One was wearing a dark T-shirt from the country of Columbia in South America. It was odd though — whenever she greeted one of them, they refused to acknowledge her existence. The ship was registered out of the Far East, however, there was no doubt that all of those deck hands were from South America.

  Dinner had been served in the galley on pewter plates on a wood-planked table by Juan. Quart-size glass canning jars served as mugs for the evening drinks. The lights came from swinging gas lanterns that hung from ceiling hooks. Katy made one comment to herself, “It’s lucky that I spent some time in the Peace Corps, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to take this.”

  It had been apparent that Sam Kutsun had been trying to avoid her all day. Twice she had run into him and tried to talk with him, but he abruptly cut her off with an excuse that he had a meeting with someone else. His soft-spoken demeanor had completely changed from what Katy had known in Denver and Las Vegas. In some ways, he seemed preoccupied, almost like he was on drugs.

  As the evening darkness grew in intensity, Katy had to take a much closer look at her sleeping accommodations. She was glad to have the upper bunk as it kept her from being disrupted by anyone passing through the narrow passageway. The sailing had been calm throughout the day, but now the seas started to turn rougher. Katy had to hang on as she climbed the ladder. The ship would pitch back and forth as one big wave after another made their influence felt.

  The sleeping quarters for the crew were in the forward hold, on the other end of the ship. Katy was glad because she didn’t trust any of the crew. Juan had told her that Kutsun would be sleeping with the crew, so no one would be bothering her all night. She had declined the cup of coffee Juan had poured for her at dinner. He seemed very unhappy when she refused it. After Las Vegas, she was starting to become very cautious about any drink that was given to her. Katy locked the cabin doors and prepared for a long night’s sleep.

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  Katy wasn’t sure if it was the rough seas or Juan’s cooking that caused her to wake up. She knew she hadn’t drunk any of his coffee. As she debated the best way to climb back into the upper bunk, she heard some banging which sounded like it was the lanterns in the galley swinging into each other. She wondered if anybody else had heard the noise.

  As the sound continued, Katy decided to make sure it wasn’t the lanterns. As she unlocked the cabin door and stepped into the stairwell, the noise grew much louder and sounded more like two cardboard boxes rubbing together. Katy started to wonder if the ship was starting to sink.

  As she crept up the steps, the noise was definitely coming from the bow section, the forward part of the ship. The rolling sea and the pitch-black darkness make all her movements difficult. Holding on with all her might, she managed to crawl around a pillar. The sight was quite unexpected.

  Another ship of some kind was tied up along the Blue Dolphin. The only ship that she had ever seen that looked like it was a naval submarine. The ship was very small, not much larger than the Blue Dolphin, with a small tower in the middle section.

  The shadowy figures of the deck hands could be seen as they were trying to unload some big bundles from the other ship. Much cussing in Spanish could be heard as they slipped and fell down during the unloading process. Katy could only speculate on what they were trying to smuggle. As Katy continued to watch the frantic unloading operation, she noticed a dim figure silhouetted against the far bulkhead also watching the unloading. The small stature resembled Sam Kutsun, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Katy now retreated back to her cabin. She wanted to continue watching the deck activity, but with so much activity on deck it would only be a matter of time before she would be discovered. From time to time, she would open the cabin door to listen. Finally, no more noise could be heard, so she crept back on deck.

  The submarine was gone. The rough sea was now causing the Blue Dolphin to pitch violently. A big lurch caused Katy to lose her balance and slide toward the railing. She caught it briefly before losing her grip and plunging into the dark, swirling waters of the Caribbean. The Blue Dolphin faded off into the distance.

  Katy fought with all her might against the surging waves. Even as a strong swimmer, she was no match for the violence of the ocean. As she lost her strength she felt herself losing the battle. This was the way it felt when one was going to die.

  Isla de los Muertos

  Several days after New Year’s, the following two articles appeared on the same day in the Jamaica Kingston Independent Gazette. The first article was on the lower part of the front page:

  Surfer Saves Swimmer

  A surfer rescued a young female swimmer this morning, off the Bali Hai Beach Resort near Isla de los Muertos. He was trying out a new surfboard when a huge wave engulfed him carrying something that knocked him off his board.

  He managed to grasp something as he surfaced and suddenly recognized that he was holding a human foot. The young woman was unconscious. The surfer managed to control his surfboard before the next wave hit him.

  The second and third waves carr
ied him close to shore where a lifeguard was out for an early morning swim. Both men immediately applied CPR to save her life. A European doctor, who was on vacation at the Bali Hai, gave aid immediately.

  The victim was rushed to the island’s medical clinic where she is resting comfortably, but she suffered no serious injuries. She has not revealed why she was swimming at that remote location, and plans to stay at the resort for the next week.

  The second article appeared on page six of the same newspaper:

  Man mourns loss of wife

  A prominent oil and gas executive from Denver, Colorado, is mourning the loss of his wife who drowned this morning. “We had the beginning of a truly happy and adorable marriage,” he said. “I lost my first wife, Helen, a few months ago. When I met Katy, I knew she was the woman to take away all my heartache. It will be a long time before I recover from this loss.

  I want to thank all my friends that expressed their sympathy for my loss. I don’t have any children or grandchildren to help me in my hour of need. I hope to mount a wide search for Katy within the next few days. I am offering a huge reward for any information in order to find her. I will be staying at, and can be reached at, the Bali Hai Resort on Isla de los Muertos. Please contact me there. God bless you all.”

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  Katy had managed to look at herself in the bathroom mirror and was shocked by what she saw. She had enough bumps and bruises from the wave action to last her a lifetime. The resort manager had paid her a visit and offered her a week’s stay for free. She would get out of the clinic tomorrow morning and would welcome a week at this resort.