Chapter Thirty-four
A tongue licked my hand. Oso. I hugged his head to my thigh. “Good boy.”
“Katie?”
I whirled around. Was it her?
No. It was Emily. She stood in the front entrance.
“Oh. Hi, Em.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said.
I laughed, the sound tinny to my own ears. “Bees. I saw a lot of bees. Did you hear me calling for you? I didn’t want you to get stung.”
“Your workers warned me. I was out back, by the submarine, or pool, or whatever that giant hunk of concrete is out there. I came back around when I heard the shouting.”
“Yes, they shouted all right. From a distance.”
“They were saying the house was coming apart. I think they’re overly dramatic, and stoned.”
I snorted. “I think those two things are related.”
“What was the noise? Was it electrical?”
I raised my eyebrows as I said, “No electricity out here.”
Emily tucked in her chin. I knew from years of working with her that this was her “perplexed and thinking” face. “An earthquake? The bees?”
“Sort of.” My brain worked on a way to explain it that made sense. Nothing was coming to me.
She put her hands on the back of her hips, fingers pointing down. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
I palpated my numb forearms with my hands. “Totally fine. Freaked out a little, but fine. Did you see her?”
“See who?” Emily asked.
“I think we had a visit from the jumbie,” I said. “She burned the bees out of the fireplace.”
“That wasn’t you?” Emily’s brows knitted.
“Nope.”
“No frickin’ way.” The way Emily said it was an exclamation, not a question.
I walked into the great room with Emily on my heels, giving the fireplace a wide berth. All that remained in it were embers. I saw a chunk of wood on the floor by the hearth, and I picked it up. I backed away, then threw it as hard as I could into the pit. It made a loud thwack. Then, nothing. No buzz, no bees.
Behind me, Egg said, “Bees dem gone!”
“Yeah, I had a lighter with me, so I started a fire, and it burned them out,” I said. I swiveled my head and made eye contact with Emily and held a finger over my lips out of Egg’s line of sight. She nodded once.
Egg looked at me as if I was speaking in tongues.
“But. . .” he said, staring at me.
“Yes, they’re all gone.” I wiped my hands on the front of my lower thighs, careful not to muss my white dress. “You guys need to sober up and get to work.” Hopefully he would chalk this all up to bad weed and let it go.
“Yes, yes, miss,” he stuttered. Now he was the one who looked like he’d seen a ghost. He turned and walked out to join the other men.
“You’re going to explain what the hell is going on to me soon, right?” Emily asked, but she didn’t really say it as a question.
“Absolutely. I promise,” I replied.
We were interrupted by the sounds of vehicles. I hoped it was Junior so I could give him a piece of my mind. Emily and I went out to see.
Two cars. Rashidi was climbing out of his red Jeep. I didn’t recognize the other car, a newish black Pathfinder. But I did know the people inside. In the driver’s seat, Bart. Beside him, Ava.
So, Bart had made good on the promise to visit. But what the hell was Ava doing with him? I hadn’t even taken Bart’s number, but somehow Ava had hooked up with him the second she could ditch us. It was ridiculous to get jealous about a man I wasn’t dating, wasn’t even sure I wanted to date. But he had made it plain that his interest was in me. That was enough to justify pissiness, I decided.
Rashidi now stood beside me, ignoring the dogs that were jostling him for attention. His face mirrored mine. Neither of us said hello. We both just stared at the Pathfinder.
Ava slithered out in her stretchy blue-jean miniskirt and matching vest. Vest shmest, it was a damn bustier. She shouted, “Surprise! Look what I brought you guys!”
Bart got out, and he grinned at me. I wasn’t ready to smile at anyone yet, so I didn’t. It was my house. I’d just had a paranormal experience. I’d act pissy if I wanted to.
Bart noticed. He spoke to everyone, but directed it to me. “Ava volunteered to be my sous chef.” He gestured toward the Pathfinder, which explained nothing. So it was a big black SUV with coolers and bags visible through its back windows and a beach umbrella hanging over the back seat. That told me nothing, and I didn’t like it.
“We have a feast, the most amazing feast ever on the island of St. Marcos. We shall dine like the gods,” Ava said, throwing her arms in the air over her head.
I heard Rashidi exhale. I still wasn’t sure who I didn’t trust—Bart, Ava, or both—but I swallowed it for the moment. I didn’t want to ruin everyone’s day. I would get to the bottom of this later. Soon, but later. And throw a hell of a snit fit if I didn’t like what I learned. In with the good air, out with the bad air, I told myself, then adopted a light tone.
“That’s great, because I’m starving,” I said, and my teeth were barely clenched.
Emily’s head had cocked at the tone in my voice. She knew I was pissed. She stepped forward, flicking her blonde hair behind her shoulder, and linked her arm through mine. “I could eat an entire cow,” she said. God, how I loved Emily.
“How about you give us a quick tour and then we take this picnic to a beach?” Bart suggested, looking at me.
“A beachable feast,” I said, my voice sounding almost normal to my own ears now.
“It is,” Bart said. He looked relieved. More than relieved. He looked hopeful.
Hopeful was too much for me right now. He had some ’splainin’ to do. I decided to ignore hopeful, and I turned to Rashidi.
“Later today, could you help me find Junior? He’s AWOL and his stoned contractors didn’t get nada done without him. I need to fire him, pronto.” I’d save the bee story for later.
“A pleasure,” Rashidi said.
I turned back to Bart. “All right. Let’s get this tour started, then.”
Forty-five minutes and one grand tour later, we parked two of our three cars along the side of the road at Amon Hall Beach at Rashidi’s suggestion, per his intimate knowledge of all things nature on the west end of the island. The beach was narrow and our cars were only thirty yards from the waterline. Coconut palms flanked a small patio-restaurant and bar just to our right as we faced the water. The teak tables and chairs were flipped upside down, the establishment closed. Beyond the restaurant, a hammock swung in the breeze between two sea grape trees whose round succulent leaves shaded the sand below. Rocks broke the surface of the water near the shore and an anchored dock floated a little further out. Two pelicans were cavorting over the dock, and a third one flapped its wings from its perch on its personal party barge.
Emily and I piled out of the truck. A pounding on the window from the back seat stopped me. It was Rashidi. He pointed at his door. I opened it.
“Wah, now I’m a youth again?” he asked. He unfolded his lanky frame and hopped out, his baggy shorts hanging to his knees and his Bob Marley t-shirt wet from sweat and stuck to his chest. “Child-proof locks. Let my people go.”
I laughed. “So that’s why Emily couldn’t get out last night. I’ll have to fix those.”
“I’m vindicated,” Emily said, and pumped a fist in the air.
“You were still hammered,” I reminded her.
From our parking spot on the road we heard a loud pop down on the beach, like a gunshot. My hand flew to my mouth, catching a scream. Peals of laughter rolled up to us and I looked down at Ava and Bart, who had already carried a red cooler down to the beach. I saw Ava dancing around with an overflowing bottle of champagne in one hand. She stuck the bubbly to her mouth, leaning over to keep the liquid off her body. It was time for Ava and me to have a do-better talk.
“Are
you guys coming or what?” Bart shouted up at us.
Rashidi, Emily, and I joined the party.
~~~
Saving Grace (What Doesn’t Kill You, #1): A Katie Romantic Mystery Page 36