Murder Caribbean-Style (High Seas Mystery Series Book 1) Page 4

  Kayla frowned. “You’re making a big leap from Patrick riding in a cigarette boat to being a drug smuggler. He hates drugs, always said only chumps were drug dealers.”

  “Sure, but Patrick loves money and thinks he’s smarter than the cops. How much money do you think it would take to turn him into a chump?” Shannon grinned and waved her nails faster. “He’s our man! If we don’t nail him with our original plan, we might catch Chadwick and Patrick together on the drug angle.”

  “What’s your original plan?” Kayla asked.

  “You’ll know when it happens,” Shannon replied with a smug grin. “Get ready for dinner. We’re going to a special after-dinner floor show tonight.”

  Kayla sighed, “I’m too tired for a show. I think I’ll turn in early.”

  “Nonsense! After a hot shower you’ll be ready for anything, besides I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  Kayla frowned. “These surprises seem to be getting out of hand.”

  After dinner the ship offered entertainment in the Starlight Theater. A theater in the round, the stage looked like a planetarium dome. As the audience filtered in, the dome displayed a seascape vista with islands on the horizon and wispy clouds floating across the brilliant blue sky. Drinks arrived, the orchestra played, and the skyscape altered into a sunset scene with burnished cloud strands floating across the stratosphere. The silhouetted islands transformed into abstract etchings of black against a golden-orange glow.

  As busboys cleared glasses and waiters collected their tabs, the sky deepened into a velvet-black pierced by pinpricks of light, displaying constellations in the Caribbean sky. Laser lights created shooting stars across the ceiling in time to the music and an eerie mist floated across the stage floor. The lasers converged on a column of smoke rising from the floor.

  As a spotlight narrowed on the smoky column, a woman stood shrouded in the haze.

  An off-stage voice announced, “Constellation Cruise Lines proudly introduces Natalia! The great-granddaughter of a Russian mystic, Natalia inherited the magical powers of the invincible psychic, Rasputin! You may attempt to keep your thoughts shielded, but Natalia can read your darkest secrets.” The crowd murmured as fire erupted from the floor. Natalia raised her arms and the off-stage voice shouted, “Natalia!”

  A spotlight illuminated Natalia’s large hypnotic eyes and spread to show her entire body. Tall and sleek, she looked exotic, untamed, like a dangerous jungle cat. Silken jet-black hair curled seductively over slim shoulders and delicate white neck, framing an ethereal face and sparkling black eyes.

  Kayla cast Natalia as a young Cher straight out of the sixties.

  Natalia glided to the edge of the stage in a gown of gleaming iridescent colors that swirled in the dazzling light. She stepped into the audience and gently lifted a woman’s pudgy hand with long tapered fingers. In a husky low voice she said, “Do not be afraid. I am drawn by your question.”

  Natalia raised her voice. “This lovely woman wishes to know if her grandchild will be born while she is traveling.” Smiling, Natalia said, “A healthy grandson named Jason will greet you upon your return home.”

  The woman fluttered happily, leaning into her circle of friends. Natalia floated across the floor to greet a man dressed in a tuxedo. “You should not invest in that particular stock. The merger may fail causing the stock to plummet.” She paused dramatically. “Of course, you could sell short.” Natalia arched a dark eyebrow. The gentleman checked his watch and frowned as he fidgeted with the gold buttons on his vest.

  Without hesitation Natalia turned to an older woman. “Your ring fell into the lining of your purse. Reach down behind that frayed seam.” The woman searched her purse and pulled out a sparkling blue ring. The audience applauded enthusiastically. Natalia bowed elegantly, her long nails and slender fingertips coming together oriental-style.

  As the performance continued, Kayla’s attention drifted, allowing her to scan the faces of nearby guests. She sat at a table in the back of the room surrounded by friends, while passengers occupied the more desirable seats.

  How had Natalia managed to glean useful information for her act? Mystics often paid stewards, waiters, and pursers to pass on tidbits of information which they incorporated into their act. Natalia handled it expertly. That bit about the ring in the lining of the purse was masterful.

  “We have a skeptic,” Natalia said.

  Kayla looked up to find Natalia pointing straight at her. “Come here, my dear.” Long fingers curled in a beckoning gesture. “Let’s see if I can make a believer of you.” The spotlight narrowed its beam, forcing Kayla to accept the invitation by standing, to the gleeful applause of her friends.

  “Is this my surprise?” she whispered to a giggling Shannon.

  “Kayla, I won’t try to convince you that I picked you at random. Your friends were very insistent.” Natalia laughed—a deep throaty sound. Her well-cultivated voice induced confidence as her cool fingers touched Kayla’s hot hand. “I warn you! Your secrets are not hidden from me.” Natalia winked at the audience. Applause erupted from Kayla’s friends as the seer gazed into Kayla’s eyes. Natalia’s intense eyes mesmerized Kayla. She could not look away.

  Natalia said, “Your new book will be greeted with more success than the first edition, but an exciting new project will secure fame and fortune.” Kayla blushed. Predictions about the future were worthless; however, the success of her book was on her mind.

  Natalia hesitated, her eyes narrowing dramatically. “In the past you’ve been unlucky in love. I sense someone waits close by, just out of sight. He may be able to capture your heart.” Her manicured nails pressed uncomfortably into Kayla’s hand. “Be warned. If you allow emotions to cloud reason, you may face grave danger. Proceed with caution.” Natalia dropped Kayla’s hand abruptly.

  “Sorry, this was meant for entertainment,” she whispered. To the crowd she said, “Kayla is an enchanting girl, but I believe she’s lost an earring. Does anyone know where her earring might be found?” Natalia peered out into the audience as Kayla fingered a bare earlobe.

  “I might be able to help, Natalia,” said a man in his late thirties. His accent was refined and distinctly British. Exuding charm, he sauntered toward the stage with the confidence of an actor. Of medium height he was dressed impeccably; a tailored evening jacket draped his muscular body perfectly, accenting his ruddy complexion and neatly cut dark hair. The midnight blue tuxedo shimmered as the spotlight illuminated sapphire eyes that locked on Kayla’s face.

  A jolt of electricity shot through her fingers as a young Pierce Brosnan touched her hand. Her heart pounded. Kayla almost expected him to say, “My name is Bond, James Bond” as he folded the missing earring into her moist palm with soft supple fingers. Her cheeks burned under his intent gaze.

  He turned toward the audience and said, “I have a few other items that do not belong to me.” He unloaded watches, scarves, and wallets from his pockets, handing them to Kayla. The audience muttered as they recognized possessions.

  Natalia said, “Don’t become agitated. Let me introduce our ship’s magician, Steven Young. Although this is usually his evening off, Steven generously agreed to work, gathering items that I will return to their proper owners. Would you help, Kayla?”

  “Certainly.” Kayla smiled at the audience, avoiding Steven’s scrutiny.

  “Good! Then Steven won’t be arrested as a pickpocket!” Natalia cast a sidelong glance at Steven, who grinned like a mischievous boy.

  During the next half-hour, the mystic directed Kayla to return objects to specific people in the audience while Steven lounged in a chair on stage, providing no visible hints to Natalia.

  Kayla felt Steven’s eyes following her but told herself not to look at him. The sensation persisted until she turned and checked for herself. He leaned back, his elbow on the chair arm, legs crossed elegantly, and his luminous blue eyes locked onto her face. When their eyes connected, Steven’s lips curled into a sensuous grin that unnerved Kayl
a.

  Natalia handed Kayla a black pocketknife adorned with a distinctive golden snake. She recognized this knife. Annoyed about airport regulations restricting personal knives after the 9-11 tragedy, Patrick bought this specially designed knife. The knife contained extra sharp porcelain blades with black aerospace composite casing, and not enough metal to trip airport metal detectors. Patrick meticulously cleaned his teeth with the plastic toothpick after each meal, an annoying habit that became a fixation with time.

  Kayla hesitated when Natalia directed her toward Patrick.

  “Go ahead, Kayla. Mr. MacIntyre is not dangerous in a crowded room with plenty of witnesses. The knife claims you as its owner, Patrick.”

  Standing within reach of his chair, Kayla paused.

  “It looks like mine,” Patrick said, “but your mental powers must be slipping. My knife is right here.” With a self-satisfied grin, Patrick pulled an identical knife from an inside pocket.

  “Well, we have a puzzle to solve.” Natalia walked forward to retrieve the knife from Kayla. She fingered the knife, examining it without opening the blades. “You are mistaken, this is your knife. The longest blade has a broken tip, the result of an unsuccessful opening. Should I describe what caused the break, Patrick, or would you like to claim your property?”

  Patrick glared, the tips of his ears reddening. With a sardonic smile he said, “Just adding intrigue to your performance, Natalia. It’s mine.” He snatched the knife and slid it into his outside pocket, gripping the duplicate in a white-knuckled fist.

  Grinning, Natalia returned to the stage. She announced, “This concludes the performance. Be sure to catch Steven on Thursday night. He will convince you to lock valuables in the safe while exploring the islands. You’d hate to meet a real thief possessing Steven’s talent.”

  Kayla gratefully rejoined her snickering friends.

  Smoke billowed as Natalia and Steven bowed to enthusiastic applause. As Natalia bowed, she tossed a capsule on the floor and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Steven shrugged, checked his pockets for the missing mystic, and sauntered offstage.

  Patrick angrily knocked over his chair getting up and hurried from the theater while Kayla and her friends applauded. A warm hand touched Kayla’s arm, and she turned to find Steven smiling down with an inviting twinkle in his eye.

  “Would you care to join me for a drink?” he asked with a gentle press of cool fingers on her arm. She enjoyed the touch, perhaps a bit too much. He said, “I feel we already know each other.”

  Her face warmed under his seductive stare. She twined a strand of hair in her fingers and turned to Shannon. “Is he safe?” Kayla asked.

  “No man alive is safe but you can trust Steven. His reputation remains intact,” Shannon replied with a wry grin.

  “I’m wounded,” Steven said, clutching his chest with a well-manicured hand. “I’ve surely nicked a few hearts as well as purses on this ship. I demand a chance to redeem myself.”

  Shannon laughed. “Should I send a bodyguard along?”

  Kayla shook her head. “It won’t be necessary. I’m much too tired—I’d fall asleep over my drink.” She walked away with Shannon saying, “Sorry.”

  “Rain check?” Steven persisted with a beguiling smile.

  “Sure,” she said still walking. “Next time it rains.”

  “It always rains in the Caribbean, haven’t you heard?” he countered.

  She stopped, resting her hand on her hip. “Then pick a day.”

  “Tomorrow at one o’clock. I’ll meet you at the French museum in Marigot and we can eat crepes at the best restaurant on the island.” His boyish expression pierced her reserve.

  She nodded and waved. To Shannon she said, “What did I get myself into?”

  “Nothing you can’t handle.” Shannon grinned. “He’s quite nice, a proper English gentleman.”

  “The proper gentleman part scares me. Patrick acted like a proper gentleman at first and that experience has made me wary of men.”

  Shannon groaned. “All men are not like Patrick. He’s an Irish thug disguised as a gentleman, but Steven’s the genuine article. Give it a chance, eh ducky?” Shannon imitated an English accent and Kayla laughed.

  Falling asleep that night another newsreel flitted through Kayla’s mind…Famous author successfully gathers data for next book…Island paradise yields memories of past romance…The great mutiny strikes with success in removing one Chief Purser but a dangerous drug runner, Chadwick escapes police trap…Chadwick’s secret partner might be Patrick…One “rat” down and three to go…Is a new romance in her future?

  Chapter 3 ~ Tuesday – Sint Maarten

  “You ready to see the town?” Shannon asked as Kayla rubbed her eyes.

  “Thought you worked today,” Kayla said, stretching.

  “I told Patrick I deserved a half-day off. He grumbled but knew I was right.” She pulled on a pair of white shorts over long tanned legs. “We can explore Philipsburg before I report for duty. Get a move on, lazy.”

  Kayla glanced at her watch. “Lazy? It’s barely 6:30.”

  “The first tender leaves at 7:00. We’ll grab a Danish and coffee from the breakfast buffet.” Shannon grinned. “You don’t want to miss your date.”

  “Date!” Kayla rolled her eyes. “Why did I agree to meet Steven? It’s your fault. I don’t have the time or energy to start a relationship.”

  “Chill out! It’s just lunch, not a trip down the aisle. See where it goes and enjoy yourself along the way. Hurry up or we’ll need to join the after-breakfast crowds.”

  See where it goes! Kayla thought. I’m afraid I know where it will go. He’s too damn attractive and I don’t trust attractive men! She still took an extra minute to apply makeup and sprayed her best perfume in a fine mist over her hair. Shannon glanced sideways with a sly lopsided grin.

  “What!” Kayla said. “I shouldn’t smell good?”

  Shannon grinned. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “I know what you’re thinking so stop it!” Kayla grabbed her bag and slid past Shannon through the door.

  Tendering was an experience most passengers enjoyed, but Kayla felt the slow ride across the bay to Little Pier was a tedious method of disembarking. Riding over gentle swells created by other boats crisscrossing the bay, Kayla regained the dexterity and timing necessary to sip hot coffee on a rocking boat.

  “So why doesn’t the Aurora dock at the new terminal?” Kayla asked Shannon, pointing at the concrete causeway where several ships docked.

  Shannon shrugged. “Two ships from CCL can’t dock at the same time, so we trade off docking with the Andromeda. On odd weeks we tender.”

  A relatively flat coral island, Sint Maarten presented an unremarkable picture of rolling hills covered by sparse vegetation. Weathered wooden buildings in the town of Philipsburg that hugged the white beach looked quaintly Caribbean. Kayla knew the Great Salt Pond that bordered the far side of the narrow town was not visible from the ocean.

  Vendors crowded Little Pier, a creaky wooden “T” jutting into the bay. Maneuvering through a jumbled maze of card tables filled with coconut boats, seashell necklaces, carnival dolls, and audacious T-shirts, the girls emerged onto Front Street the nucleus of commerce on Dutch Sint Maarten.

  “Where do we start?” Shannon asked.

  Kayla opened her book to the shopping section and said, “Show me any new shops. I need to update this whole section.”

  “You’re out of luck. I don’t do much shopping. Patrick usually skips out just when I plan a day ashore.”

  Kayla shrugged. “The town’s small enough to walk.”

  She picked up a map displaying businesses and headed out. They trudged past scores of jewelry stores peddling watches, gold chains, and sparkling gems. Standard guidebooks raved about duty-free shopping, but Kayla’s book concentrated on unique or handcrafted merchandise. She searched out uncommon stores that tourists, dazzled by the glint of gold, usually missed.

  The two frien
ds chatted about old friends as they explored. Kayla said, “Tell me about Bryanne,” as she admired a filmy batik skirt.

  “Why?” Shannon slipped on a pair of sandals and frowned at the tight fit.

  “When Patrick targeted Emily Schultz, Bryanne looked ready to slice and dice.”

  Shannon tried a larger sandal. “If Patrick wiggled his little finger, she’d jump into his bed. In truth I believe she’s beyond reconciliation. Patrick did a number on her.”

  Kayla remembered arguments with Patrick about his philandering. He blamed her inadequacies, claimed he romanced other women to satisfy normal sexual needs that she failed to satisfy. Kayla’s face reddened at the memory. “What did Patrick do to Bryanne?”

  Shannon frowned. “You know how Patrick works. He discovered Bree might inherit a large fortune and promptly seduced her. She floated in the clouds until her rich aunt visited the ship. Like a shark scenting blood in the water, Patrick zeroed in on the more lucrative target, her Aunt Jillian. You can guess the rest.”

  Kayla twisted the end of her ponytail until it formed a tight coil. “Poor girl. Why’d she stay on the Aurora? Working with him day after day must be miserable.”

  Shannon strolled across the room in a pair of new sandals, turning to catch a glimpse of her image in the mirror. “She planned to transfer until I told her about our mutiny plan. She eagerly joined our group to get revenge.”

  Kayla nodded. “I understand. After cooling off for four years, I’m still eager to watch Patrick squirm.”

  “I’ll bet you are!” Shannon paid for the sandals. “I could get used to enjoying a day off now and then. Shopping is fun!” Swinging her shopping bag, she led the way to the next store.

  The relative coolness of the morning dissipated as the sun arched overhead. Shannon said, “I’m parched. Let’s go to Jerry’s Tavern for a cold beer.”

  Kayla checked her watch. “Will it be open at 10:30?”

  “It’s never too early for a beer in the islands.” Shannon gestured at an old stucco building with nautical flags whipping from poles on the second floor. “You see? Open for business.”