by Molly Fitz
“Yes!” Bandit jumped up, pawing at my leg with excitement.
“No,” Thor grumbled, lifting a paw and licking it.
“Come on, Thor,” Bandit cajoled. “Don’t be a grumble bum.”
“Fine! But I’m only going to shut you up.” I didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye as he got to his feet and followed Bandit out the door. Thor liked to act the grump, but in reality, he loved Bandit and, more often than not, joined in with her antics.
“Do I even want to know what that was about?” Galloway asked.
“Nothing important,” I assured him. “Bandit wants to come for a walk with us. Thor has reluctantly agreed to come.”
“Under protest,” Thor added.
“Under protest,” I repeated. Galloway chuckled and locked the door behind us. We took a slow walk along the foreshore, the waves lapping around our ankles and then receding, only to surge forward again. Bandit and Thor chased the tide, out, then in, prancing across the wet sand. I was pleased Thor was losing his mistrust of the ocean, though I figured that would change in a heartbeat if he misjudged a wave and—heaven forbid—his paws got wet.
“It’s certainly beautiful here,” I sighed. The breeze was warm, the sky awash with pinks, oranges, and vibrant purples, birds coming in to settle in the trees' branches. A particular seagull flew overhead and threw out an insult to Thor in passing. “Watch out, fat cat!”
“Bin chicken!” Thor shouted in return, tail flicking in irritation.
“Was that the same seagull as earlier?” Galloway asked, ducking as the bird swooped over our heads.
“The one and only.”
We watched as he landed in the bushes a few meters from the diving hut then, with something large clamped in his beak, tried to take flight, only whatever he was attempting to lift was too big and too heavy. Flapping his wings with all his might, he got a few feet off the ground before he lost his grip, and the item tumbled to the ground.
Bandit and Thor ran toward it, eager to take it off the seagull's hands.
“Probably just rubbish someone tossed in the bushes,” Galloway said. “We’ll pick it up and dispose of it.”
“My environmental warrior.” I sighed dramatically, batting my lashes so he’d know I was teasing. As we got closer, we could see the item was one of the disposable smoothie cups from breakfast.
“Oh, good grief,” I grumbled. “Don’t tell me Rory brought his smoothie down to the beach and then just tossed the cup? He should know better.”
“It smells yucky,” Bandit complained, sitting back on her haunches and covering her nose with her paws.
“What’s wrong with her?” Galloway asked, pulling a napkin from our earlier picnic out of his pocket and reaching down to pick up the offending cup.
“She says it smells yucky,” I explained. “Probably off milk.”
“Not milk. It smells bad.” Thor sneezed, as if the scent were irritating his nasal passages.
Galloway took a tentative sniff then held the cup away. “Definitely has a chemical smell to it.” We looked at each other.
“A chemical smell like… pesticide?” Could this be the murder weapon?
His lips curled down at the corners. “Could be. I need to get this to the station. I’m sorry, babe, our sunset stroll will have to wait for another night.”
“That’s okay, this is more important. I’ll take these guys back to the villa and then meet you in the dining room. While I’m waiting for you, I’ll have some of those coffee cocktails that you promised…” I trailed off.
“Shoot! We fell asleep, and I forgot! I’m sorry, I owe you.”
“And I intend to collect.” I winked then reached up on tiptoes and kissed him, winding my arms around his neck. “Don’t be long. I’ll order you a steak, ‘k?”
“Perfect. Just like you.”
“Gag,” Thor cut in, making me laugh.
Releasing Galloway, I bent down and scooped Thor into my arms, resulting in instant purring and a chin bump that had me briefly seeing stars. “I still love you,” I reassured my teddy bear of a cat.
“How could you not?” Thor rubbed his face against my bruised jaw, and while I knew he meant it as a sign of affection, my sore face couldn’t take any more of his loving. I put him down, scratched Bandit’s ears, then said, “Come on guys, let’s go.”
Once the sun had dipped over the horizon, it got dark quickly, and I was grateful for the twinkling of the lights decorating each villa to guide the way. Thor and Bandit trotted ahead while my mind was full of the implications of our find. Assuming the chemical smell coming from the smoothie cup was the pesticide that killed Rory, we were one step closer to solving his murder.
After letting Thor and Bandit inside, I promised I’d bring them back some of Galloway’s steak, then I retraced my steps back to the resort. Stepping into the dining room, I immediately saw Rory sitting across from Daisy at a table for two. If you could call it sitting. He was submerged in the middle of the table, unable to pull the chair out. I hated to burst his bubble, but Daisy didn’t seem particularly heartbroken at his demise.
Ignoring him, I wove through the tables and seated myself by a window at the back then picked up the menu and hid behind it as I glanced around the room. In addition to Daisy, Lauren and David Walsh were in attendance, as were a handful of guests I didn’t know.
“Good evening, ma’am. Are you ready to order, or are you waiting on someone?” A waiter appeared by my side, dressed in a black polo with the resort's logo.
“I am waiting on someone, but could I grab an espresso martini while I wait?”
“Of course.” He disappeared as silently as he’d arrived, his long legs eating up the floor as he headed to the bar. I pegged him to be in his early twenties, if that, with dreadlocked hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, face cleanshaven and a lithe, loose way of moving that had me guessing he was a local. Or a dancer. Either worked. He returned with my cocktail, sliding it in front of me with a flourish.
“Thank you.” I smiled. “What’s your name?”
“I am Ramone.” He grinned and gave me a slight bow. “Is there anything else I can help you with while you wait for your date?”
“Actually, I’ll order now if that’s okay? He won’t be long. He just had to drop something into the police station.”
“Ah.” Ramone nodded. “My cousin works there. They will look after him.”
“Who’s your cousin? Jared or Deon?”
“Both.” Ramone grinned again, brown eyes twinkling. “We are a small island with big families.”
Ramone pulled out a notebook and a pencil from his back pocket and stood poised to take my order.
“You don’t use iPads or technology in a resort like this?” I asked, momentarily distracted.
“Power fluctuations make such gadgetry unreliable. They use a computerized system for check-in and billing, but nothing beats pen and paper for taking orders.”
I’d just finished ordering a steak for Galloway and chicken for myself when there was a commotion at the door.
“Why, here are my cousins now.” Ramone straightened. “I take it he’s your date?”
We both watched as Galloway scanned the room, then his eyes locked on me, and he headed over.
“He sure is.” I sighed, a little over-dramatically.
“Nice.” Ramone winked then held out the chair opposite me for Galloway to sit.
“Can I get you a drink, sir?” Ramone asked.
“I’ll have a beer, thanks.”
After Ramone had left, I turned my attention to Galloway. “Why are Jared and Deon here?”
“Gathering fingerprints. Deon fingerprinted the smoothie cup, and there are several sets. He’ll eliminate Rory’s, but we need to find out who else handled the cup. Figured now would be a good time to catch everyone in the dining room.”
I watched as Deon and Jared made their way around the dining room, collecting what they needed. A hush of voices complaining about ink-stained skin fo
llowed them as they moved from table to table.
“Mrs. Chief.” Deon beamed when they reached us. “No need for yours. We have them already.”
“Yep, I know.” I took a sip of my martini. It was good. Strong. I took another sip.
“We’ll be visiting staff quarters too, chief,” Jared said. “Try to get as many prints as we can. Deon will work on the comparisons tomorrow. He’s a bit of a genius with fingerprints. Very keen eye.”
“Good job, men.” Galloway nodded, and they moved on to the next table. Ramone arrived with Galloway’s beer, and I ordered another espresso martini. I was on vacation, after all, even if we were hunting a killer.
I kept my sunglasses on at breakfast the following morning. One too many espresso martinis had seen me falling into bed with my head spinning and my stomach churning, but they’d been sinfully delicious, and I had zero regrets.
“Eggs?” Galloway asked, and I’m pretty sure I turned green at the suggestion.
“Toast,” I croaked. “And coffee.”
I stayed at our table while he went to the buffet, returning minutes later with a steaming cup of coffee and two slices of toast.
“You are worth your weight in gold.” I picked up a slice of toast and bit into it. My chin wasn’t so sore today, although the bruise was spectacular and huge, the size of my palm as it curled around my jaw, partway up my cheek, and partially down my neck.
Galloway returned to the buffet to get his own breakfast, returning with a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, mushrooms, beans, and fried tomatoes. He’d just taken a mouthful when Neve approached.
“Good morning. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have a message for Detective Galloway.” She slid a folded piece of paper onto the table next to Galloway's elbow then darted away, collecting dirty plates and cups from a table nearby.
Galloway read the note.
“What does it say?” I cradled my coffee and thanked the Gods such nirvana existed.
“My presence is required at the police station,” he said.
“Let’s go!” I put down my coffee.
Galloway grabbed my wrist, forcing me to remain seated. “Let’s have breakfast first, hmm? Then we can go.” He glanced around the dining room. “Is Rory here?”
“Actually.” I searched for the ghost, finding no sign of him. “He’s not. I haven’t seen him since last night.” I’d been worried Rory would turn out to be the type of ghost who’d hound me, following me everywhere and generally being a pain in the rear, but I should have known better. All Rory was interested in was women, and it creeped me out knowing he was following them around, watching them while they were blissfully unaware.
As soon as we’d finished eating, we headed out. Galloway commandeered another golf cart, and we were soon winding our way across the island.
“Remind me to book a tour of the coffee plantation,” I said as we passed by said plantation.
“Will do.” He reached across and patted my knee. “I’m sorry you can’t go snorkeling like you wanted, so I thought we could rent a kayak instead and go for a nice paddle in the bay?”
“Sounds good,” I agreed. “But not today, though, ok? Today my arms resemble wet noodles. Unless you’re okay with doing all the paddling, and I’m just a freeloader.”
He barked out a laugh. “There’ll be no freeloading. We’ll wait until you’re not marinated in espresso martinis.”
In no time at all, we were at the police station, climbing the stairs. Inside, Deon was slumped over his desk, head resting on his arms, snoring.
“What the?” I whispered to Galloway. “Is he sleeping on the job?”
Jared motioned us to shush. “He was up all night, running the prints.”
“He stayed up all night?” Galloway asked in surprise. “He didn’t have to do that. It could have waited.”
“I think he wanted to impress you, chief.”
“And the inspector?” Galloway indicated the still empty desk at the top of the room.
“He’ll be in later,” Jared assured us. I was starting to wonder if the inspector really existed, considering this was a murder investigation and we’d yet to meet the man.
“What did he find?” Galloway asked.
“Deon!” Jared suddenly raised his voice, making both Deon and I jump.
“Chief!” Deon wiped the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away any drool and straightened his shirt. He’d been lying across a series of cards, each of them with grids containing individual fingerprints.
“I hear you pulled an all-nighter, Deon.” Galloway smiled. “Tell me what you found.”
“Well, chief, sir.” Deon cleared his throat and began pointing at the cards. “I’ve eliminated Rory Carr’s prints from the cup. And that left us with two other clear sets of prints.”
“Two?” Galloway’s brows shot up.
“Yes, chief. Lauren and David Walsh both handled the cup.”
Galloway and I looked at each other. “To be clear,” I interrupted, “Neve Willis’s prints are not on the cup?” Because, just quietly, she was my number one suspect in the murder of Rory Carr.
“No, Mrs. Chief, they are not.”
“Oh.”
Galloway rubbed a hand up and down my back in a soothing gesture. “How quickly can you get a search warrant for the Walshes’ room?” he asked.
“Pretty quickly, chief. The judge is related to the inspector.”
“Of course he is,” I whispered under my breath.
“I’ll draw it up and take it over straight away,” Jared said, sitting at his desk and typing into his computer.
“What he means is he’ll type it up, and I’ll take it to the judge,” Deon added.
“I’m the sergeant. You’re the constable. That’s just how it works, Deon,” Jared grinned without looking up. Considering both of them appeared to be working without guidance or input from their inspector, I was amazed at what a good job they were doing. Although I suspected Galloway had provided a lot more advice and direction than I was aware of.
Jared printed out the warrant. Deon snatched it from the printer and was out the door.
“Coffee?” Jared rubbed his hands together, his smile wide.
“Yes,” Galloway and I said in unison.
Chapter Nine
“You can’t do this. You have no right!” Lauren Walsh protested when we turned up at their door, and Jared and Deon presented her with the search warrant. True to their word, the judge had signed it immediately, and here we were.
“Sorry, Mrs. Walsh. We have every right. Please, wait in the hallway.” Jared directed her outside, snapping on latex gloves as he did so. Galloway and Deon followed suit.
“This is preposterous!” David Walsh blustered, a flush of red coloring his cheeks as he too was escorted out. Since I wasn’t technically police force, I wasn’t allowed in, so I waited in the hallway with Lauren and David. They were grumbling amongst themselves and declaring Wild Haven Lagoon Resort would get a one-star review over this. Personally, I thought they had bigger things to worry about.
“Do you know why they’re doing this? Why they’re targeting us?” Lauren asked me.
I nodded. “Rory Carr was poisoned. The poison was administered via the smoothie he had at breakfast.”
“But what does that have to do with us?” she cried.
“Both of your sets of prints were found on the cup. His cup. The one that was poisoned.”
They both paled. Lauren’s hand fluttered at her throat. “How awful,” she whispered.
My eyes narrowed. Awful how? That she’d been caught?
“Are you in on it together?” I asked. Not giving her time to answer, I continued, “What I can’t understand is why Rory? I’m struggling to find a motive. I mean, yeah, the guy would flirt with anything with a skirt and a heartbeat…”
“Found something!” Deon called, standing in the doorway between the hotel room and bathroom. He held a small vial between his thumb and forefinger. “Smells like pe
sticide to me.”
Galloway took the vile from him and opened it, cautiously taking a sniff. “Agreed.” He tightened the lid and gave it back to Deon. “Get that sent to the lab ASAP. See if it matches the poison used to kill Rory and the residue in the cup.”
I glanced at the Walshes to gauge their reaction to the find. Lauren was pale, fingers playing with the diamond pendant hanging from the chain around her neck. She looked concerned. Afraid even. But I wasn’t sure she looked guilty. I turned my attention to David. His cheeks were still flushed, and there was a bead of sweat across his forehead. A sign of guilt? Or just outraged that his room was being searched?
“You said… pesticide?” Lauren whispered.
“Yes.” I turned my attention back to her. She’d stopped fiddling and was looking at her husband.
“David used to run a gardening business. Years ago.”
David snorted. “That was like twenty years ago. Why would I keep pesticide from that long ago, stupid woman?”
I stiffened at how he spoke to his wife, the tone of voice, the stupid woman comment. They’d appeared nothing but devoted to each other each time I’d seen them around the resort, but what was it that Tash had said about when they’d had dinner at The Salty Panda? That they’d sniped at each other all night.
“But David,” she protested, “that’s exactly what you did. Remember? When you sold the business and were cleaning out the inventory, there was a box of bottles—what were they called? Anyway, it doesn’t matter, but I remember you said they were restricted. They were only sold to certified applicators, so you were keeping them. You said the new owner could buy his own stock. We might need them in the future.”
I shot a glance at Galloway, who’d heard what was being said in the hallway. He pulled out his phone and began typing. I turned my attention back to the couple.
“Is that right, David? You have access to a restricted pesticide?” I asked.
“Shut up,” he hissed at his wife. “You’re making this worse. Why can’t you learn to keep your big mouth shut?”