by Molly Fitz
One desk dominated the top end of the room, while two others were stationed at the other end, all of them facing the middle. Behind the two desks sat Jared and Deon, who both looked up when we entered.
“Hey, chief.” Jared stood up while Deon began searching his desk for something.
“The inspector not in?” Galloway asked, jerking his head toward the empty desk.
“He’s stepped out for a bit,” Jared replied, picking up a notebook. He turned his attention to me. “Right, let’s get this statement out of the way. Tell me what happened this morning.”
I stood in front of Jared’s desk and did precisely that. The only bit I omitted was the fact that I’d gone surfing with a ghost. Despite the islanders believing in and celebrating the spirit world, I didn’t think they were ready to hear that I could see and talk to ghosts.
Deon then took my fingerprints, only no electronic scanners here. This was old school with an ink pad and paper. Finally, I submitted to a cheek swab to match my DNA to the blood on the surfboard.
“How long before you get the preliminary autopsy results?” Galloway asked.
“Might hear something this afternoon, chief, but in all likelihood, it’ll probably be tomorrow,” Jared said. “Everything gets sent to Maryvonne for processing.”
“Except for the fingerprints. I do those,” Deon piped up.
“I take it the body was taken by plane?” Galloway asked.
“Yes, chief. We have a single prop cargo plane that we use for such things. Our airport is small. We cannot fit any of those commercial planes on the runway. They’d drop off the end and into the ocean.”
We already knew that since we’d had to book the ferry for the last leg of our journey to the island.
While they were discussing transportation logistics, I’d moved away to study a whiteboard set up on a trestle. Pinned to the whiteboard with a magnet was Rory's photo, and beneath it, a photograph of Daisy Hawkins. I tapped Daisy’s photo. “You have a suspect?” I asked, relieved to see my picture was not on the whiteboard.
Deon crossed to my side, looking at the board with hands on his hips. “Yes, Mrs. Chief. I saw them together myself, just last night. They were on a date.”
“Here in town?” I asked, wondering why Rory had brought Daisy into town when they had a five-star resort at their disposal.
Deon nodded. “The Salty Panda. Very popular with the townsfolk and tourists alike.”
“And they were definitely on a date?”
“He gave her a flower, and there was kissing.”
“Definitely a date then,” I concurred.
The phone on Jared’s desk rang. “Emilienne Police Station,” he answered then locked eyes with Galloway. “Yes. Got it. Thank you.”
“News?” Galloway asked.
“Yes, chief,” Jared confirmed. “That was the morgue on Maryvonne to say they’d received Rory Carr's body. They’ve already swabbed the vomit on his face, and preliminary tests confirm it. Poison.”
“Do we know what sort of poison?” Galloway didn’t appear surprised by the news, and to be honest, I wasn’t either. I was convinced Rory’s death was foul play, and since there were no physical signs of trauma, poison was as good a murder weapon as any. Not to mention the vomit.
“Not confirmed yet, but they think it’s a pesticide. They’re running more tests to find out which one.”
“And the trace of vomit on his mouth says it was ingested.” Galloway crossed to the whiteboard and picked up a marker. Leaning around him, I read the list of names he’d written on the board.
“Lauren Walsh, David Walsh, Daisy Hawkins, and us? Why us?” I blinked in shock.
Galloway tapped the whiteboard with the end of the marker. “We’re going on the assumption that Carr was poisoned with a pesticide. That he ingested it. It was obviously fast-acting and fatal.”
“You’re saying someone slipped him the poison at breakfast.” Now I knew why our names were on the board. Because we were in the dining room that morning. And so was the killer.
Chapter Six
“Cast your mind back,” Galloway told me. “Who else was in the dining room this morning? Anyone passing through? Staff? Other guests?”
I chewed my lip and immediately regretted it, a sharp sting and the coppery taste of blood reminding me of my earlier injury.
“Do ooh ab a issue?” I asked Deon, hand covering my mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Galloway grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him, prying my hand from my face.
“Ib bleeing,” I told him, my mouth pooling with saliva and blood. I opened my mouth a little to show him.
“Okay, you need to spit.” Galloway turned to Deon. “Bathroom?”
“Back here, chief.” I followed Deon to the bathroom and dutifully spat into the hand-basin. Galloway stood behind me.
“Should have realized you cut the inside of your mouth too,” he said, as if all of this was his fault.
I dabbed at my mouth with a paper towel and turned to face him. “I’m fine. Honestly,” I assured him. “I forgot and chewed my lip, and it pulled it open. Seth, the medic, told me it was only a small cut on the inside, and it would heal fine on its own. I just need to rinse my mouth out after eating.”
The bleeding stopped as quickly as it had started, and despite Galloway wanting to take me back to the resort straight away so I could rest, I insisted on returning to the whiteboard to continue nutting out our suspects.
“I saw the tall, slim redhead walk through and stop for coffee. The one who owns the fashion boutique. What was her name? Yasmin?”
“Yasmin Rees opened her dress shop a couple of years ago. High-end designer labels—that type of thing,” Jared said, adding her name to the board.
“Any connection with Rory?” Galloway asked. “Other than they both work at the resort?”
“Not that I know of, chief.”
“I saw one of the cleaning staff. I think it was the same girl who was with the others in the foyer this morning, the one who’d been crying. Neve, I think her name was?” I said, picking up the marker and adding her name.
“Ah, Neve.” Deon nodded his head sagely.
“You know her?”
“She’s a local. Been working up at the resort for about a year. Been carrying a candle for Rory the entire time,” he said.
“Did they ever go out?”
Deon heaved a sigh. “I really couldn’t say. To be honest, Rory has a bit of a reputation with the ladies.”
I snorted. “That doesn’t surprise me. He flirts with anything with a heartbeat.”
Deon chuckled and nodded. “That he does, Mrs. Chief. That he does.”
“I saw Nik in the foyer as we went into breakfast,” Galloway cut in, “but I don’t think she actually came into the dining room.”
“We should add her name anyway.” I dutifully wrote Nicole Gibson on the board. “We don’t know when the poison was administered. It could have been before Rory reached the dining room. We need to find out his movements from this morning. Who he was with, who he spoke to.”
Jared looked at me in wonder. “Mrs. Chief is a detective too?”
“No. I’m a private investigator.”
“And a darn good one.” Galloway slung an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. My stomach rumbled in response. Loudly.
“I think you need to feed Mrs. Chief.” Deon grinned.
“I’m on it. Can you direct us toward The Salty Panda? We may as well see what we can find out about Rory’s date with Daisy last night and grab a bite to eat.” Galloway pulled out the map Nik had given us, and Deon circled The Salty Panda. It was on the foreshore, as were most restaurants on the island, and within walking distance of the police station, though we drove the buggy anyway.
The Salty Panda was rustic and charming and wall-less. It was basically a pergola with a kitchen and bar attached, and I loved it. We took a seat at a table for two overlooking the water, and a waitress wearing a brightly colored sar
ong brought over two menus and a jug of water.
“Welcome to The Salty Panda.” She smiled. “My name’s Tashina, but most people call me Tash. Can I get you a refreshing drink while you peruse the menu?”
“Actually, Tash, you might be able to help us with something.” Galloway leaned his elbows on the table and charmed with his smile.
“For sure. Happy to help in any way I can.” Tash’s smile slipped somewhat when Galloway pulled out his phone and held it out so she could see the picture of Rory. “I believe this man was here last night? On a date.”
Tash’s head bobbed. “He’s in here a lot. Never with the same woman twice.”
“So, you’d say he’s a bit of a player?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Tash was young, in her twenties, and I wondered if she’d been played by Rory. How awkward to then have him parading his dates at her place of employment.
“Oh, absolutely. Never me though,” she dissuaded my notion. “Not for want of trying on his part either. He’s a bit of a pig, to be honest. Always flirting with me behind his dates’ backs.” She shuddered. “Why do you want to know? Has he done something?” She snapped her fingers and pointed at Galloway. “Don’t tell me—one of the husbands finally caught him in the act with his wife?”
Galloway and I shared a look. So, married women weren’t out of bounds. I really needed to have a word with ghost Rory. I had a sneaking suspicion our suspect list was a lot longer than we’d initially thought.
“Did anything happen on his date last night?” Galloway asked another question rather than answer hers.
Tash screwed up her nose. “Not that I recall. The usual. He brought her here for a traditional Caribbean experience. Gives her a flower, helps her pin it in her hair. Orders a shared platter of seafood, and they feed each other. He plies her with his favorite cocktail, a Caribbean Sunset. Actually, they are delicious. Would you like to try one?”
I lit up at the idea of a cocktail then remembered I’d not only given my brain a fair rattling this morning, but I also needed to keep a clear head if we were going to solve Rory’s murder quickly and get back to enjoying our vacation. “How about a mocktail instead?”
Tash smiled. “Of course. Two?”
Galloway inclined his head, and Tash scampered away to prepare our drinks.
“Well?” I asked, watching him as he watched Tash behind the bar.
“I think you’re going to have to have a conversation with Rory and get a list of his recent dates.”
“I was thinking the same thing. He sounds like quite the Casanova.”
“It doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination to think one of his past—or present—lovers is behind his death. Jealousy is a powerful motivator.”
Tash returned with our cocktails, placing a tall glass with a pinky-orange drink inside, a wedge of lime decorating the rim, and a paper straw.
“Here we go, a virgin sunset mocktail.”
“Thank you,” Galloway and I said in unison. I leaned forward and took a sip. Yum. I figured the mocktail was mostly lemonade, but that was okay. It was cold and refreshing, which was exactly what I needed.
“Who else was here last night?” Galloway asked before Tash could leave. “Anyone from the Wild Haven Lagoon Resort?”
“I think there was another couple from the resort, but they didn’t actually say that’s where they were staying. I just assumed.”
“Oh?”
“A couple in their forties, both of them dressed in designer clothes. His watch alone is worth more than my car. And she was dripping in jewelry. Folks with that sort of money would be staying at the only five-star facility on the island. Wild Haven Lagoon.”
“Sounds like Lauren and David Walsh,” I said. “They’re here celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary.”
“Really?” Tash asked, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. “They sure didn’t act like they were celebrating anything last night.”
“Why’s that?” Galloway asked.
“Oh, they were sniping and niggling at each other all evening, and the way he looked at her when she wasn’t looking? Let’s just say it wasn’t with affection. And each time his back was turned, she was rolling her eyes. Yeah, I could see they’d been together a long time, but I’d say the love has well and truly left that relationship.”
Interesting! Because the front the pair of them put on at the resort, walking arm in arm, smiling, and being affectionate with each other, was very convincing. Yet what Tash was telling us was the opposite.
“Did they recognize Rory? Or he them? Did they interact at all?”
Tash shook her head. “They were too busy guzzling cocktails. They were pretty drunk by the time they left here.” She glanced over her shoulder as a group of people arrived. “Let me just get these folks settled, then I’ll come back to take your order.” She darted away before either of us could reply.
I sipped my cocktail. “So there’s more to Lauren and David than meets the eye,” I said, more to myself than to Galloway, but he answered, regardless.
“If it was even them.”
“True. But come on. A gold watch worth more than her car? Probably the Rolex David wears. And dripping jewelry? Although, to be fair, that isn’t how I’d describe Lauren. I’ve seen her wearing an elegant gold chain with a pendant, understated diamond earrings, a wedding band, and a gorgeous engagement ring. Maybe she glams it up at dinner time?”
“Understated doesn’t mean they weren’t expensive. I’d say Tash has an eye for these things. She’d have to, with the number of tourists that pass through here. Who has money, who is worth the extra effort to squeeze out a bigger tip.”
I mulled it over while perusing the menu. Rory was at The Salty Panda with Daisy Hawkins. David Walsh was here with his wife, Lauren. All three were guests at the Wild Haven Lagoon Resort. And Rory worked there. And that’s all I had. Connected, yes, but motive? Nothing. Well, aside from the fact that Rory went through women like I went through Kleenex in hayfever season.
Tash appeared, pad and pencil in hand. “Ready to order?”
“I’ll have the flying fish and cou-cou.” I pointed to the item on the menu.
“Make that two.” Galloway handed his menu to Tash.
“Two flying fish. Won’t be long. Oh, and I remembered something about Rory. Usually, he brings the guests he’s trying to woo here, but I have seen him with another staff member from the resort. I don’t know her name, but they were both wearing the resort polo shirts.”
“Was it a date? Or just friends catching up?” I asked.
Tash snorted. “Rory does not have female friends. But I admit, he was different with her. No flower for her hair or any of that BS. But he was his usual flirty self.” She shrugged and walked away to place our order with the kitchen.
“Seems no one is off-limits for Rory’s libido,” Galloway said, reaching for my hand over the table and entwining our fingers.
“Staff and guests. It was inevitable things were going to get messy,” I agreed. “Who do you think the staff member was?” And why hadn’t he given them the whole Rory experience, flower in the hair and all that?
He snorted. “How about the one crying in the foyer this morning? The cleaner, Neve. She seemed more upset than most at the news of Rory’s demise.”
“But didn’t Deon say it was totally one-sided? That Neve liked Rory, but he didn’t return her feelings?”
“What if that was a front to keep their relationship secret? Maybe it’s against policy for staff to date each other?”
“We’re getting more questions than answers.” I pouted.
“I have a plan.” Galloway squeezed my hand. “When we get back to the resort, you talk with Rory—at our villa where you won’t be overheard. I’m going to follow up with Daisy, the Walshes, and Neve.”
Chapter Seven
I figured it would take some coaxing to get Rory to leave the resort. After all, he could perv all he wanted on the bikini-clad girls and not get caught, but when I fou
nd him poolside, it appeared the novelty had worn off for him. I’d caught his eye and jerked my head to indicate he should follow me, then, as casually as possible, I’d wandered the length of the pool to an empty cabana.
“Come with me back to my villa,” I hissed out of the corner of my mouth. “I need to talk to you.”
“Why, Audrey Fitzgerald, you’re inviting me back to your villa?” He drawled, eyes sparkling.
“Not in that way, you idiot,” I snapped. “Do you, or do you not, want to know who killed you? Because you were poisoned, Rory. Someone wanted you dead, and they succeeded.”
He blanched and pressed a hand to his chest. “Moi?”
I rolled my eyes and blew out a frustrated breath. “Just meet me at my villa where we can talk freely. I warned you I can’t talk out in the open like this. I’m the only one who can see and hear you.” I was already getting suspicious glances from the guests closest to the cabana, wondering who on earth I was talking to. Pretending I’d forgotten my towel, I beat a hasty retreat.
Back at the villa, I opened the doors and sat on the edge of the deck, my feet buried in the sand. Rory had trailed behind me the entire walk back, not saying a word. I figured he was finally digesting the news that he was not only dead but that someone had intentionally killed him. Thor appeared by my side, head bumping my elbow.
“Hey.” I ran my hand over his fur. “Ready to come out and play in the sand?”
“Undecided,” he said, sitting by my side and eyeing the expanse of sand with distrust. Bandit, on the other hand, barreled past us both, landed in the soft sand, and promptly flopped onto her back, rolling in delight.
“Ohhh, it’s like a bath, only with dirt!” she cried. “And it’s so warm. C’mon Thor, you’ve got to try this!”
I cringed at the amount of sand I would have to brush out of her fur later, but what the heck? They were on vacation too. In fact, if it hadn’t been for these two, I wouldn’t have won the holiday at all, so I could deal with a bit of sand.