"It is over fifteen meters in height," he said.
I quickly did the math in my head and averaged it to be around fifty feet.
There were twenty of us on the tram. We each got out and marveled at the beauty around us.
We didn't spend much time there and were asked to not touch the formations because they tended to get slick and then they'd naturally change. I definitely didn't want to be responsible for any surface damage, so I focused on taking a dozen pictures.
The next stop was called The Village. There were many stalagmites here and some had grown so tall they looked like columns. I heard Cady giggle and mention their odd shapes.
The other areas were called The Chapel, The Rotunda, and finally The Altar, where two stalagmites were depicted to be a woman standing before a man, who was on bended knee proposing. Without the tour guide telling us this, I wouldn't have "seen" it, but the idea was cute.
The sound of water grew louder, and soon we arrived at a waterfall that plunged into a deep pool below.
Cady pulled me to her side, and we leaned toward the water to get it in view as she took a picture of us.
"Thanks," she whispered as we headed back to the tram.
"For what?" I asked.
"For doing this and helping Aiden out."
I squeezed her hand before returning to my seat beside Mimi.
As the tram began its ascent back to land level, I asked Mimi what she thought. She'd been quiet the whole time but obviously enjoyed it. She'd taken a video and several pictures as well.
"It's beautiful. I'm so glad we came. When Whitney mentioned how we needed to honor Barclay by continuing today's events, I felt weird. They lost someone they loved, but I barely knew Barclay. Greer and I have only been dating a few weeks."
I frowned and was puzzled. "You didn't go to college with them? I assumed you had."
She shook her head and smiled. "No. I'm the fifth wheel to their friendship."
Funny. That was how I thought of Barclay yesterday.
"You and Greer must be serious if he invited you on a Caribbean vacation already." He must've really cared about her.
"Actually, it was Barclay who invited me, and I think Greer would have felt strange if he'd said no right in front of me."
There went my theory.
She must've realized she basically admitted her own boyfriend wouldn't have wanted her here, because she quickly added, "But he's been great about it since."
"That's good." What else was I supposed to say? Sounds like you got a winner?
She softly laughed to herself. "He's a good guy. Protective, always puts family first, and very hard working but not a workaholic. Some men can be jerks. Neglecting the ones who love them. Greer isn't like that."
I hadn't met that side of him yet, so I wouldn't know. I wondered if she was aware Mr. Good Guy was at a so-called nightclub last night without her. I wasn't going to ask though. It was none of my business.
"Have you met each other's family already?" They surely moved fast, so this seemed likely.
"I've met his sister. She's super sweet. I'm waiting a bit to introduce him to my mom." Her tone saddened when she mentioned her mother.
"Is your mom okay? You sound down."
She widened her eyes. "Oh yeah. Um, my dad recently passed away."
I softly gasped. Wow, and she was sitting here?
"He and I weren't close. We barely knew one another. He was never really around, even while I was growing up. It was a hard relationship, but Mom is having a rough go of it."
"Of course."
"I wanted to stay by her side, but she insisted I come here. It's not like Barbados is an everyday occurrence, right?"
I glanced down at her brown gladiator sandals. They were clearly leather. You could tell by the stitching. Along with her Prada crossbody messenger bag, she definitely had some money, so affording a Caribbean vacation on her own probably wasn't out of the question. Especially with her art gallery job, assistant director or not.
"I'm sorry you've experienced two deaths recently. That couldn't be easy to deal with," I said. It didn't matter that she and Barclay hadn't been close. Just the fact that a second person died had to be affecting her.
"Thank you."
She'd said something revealing though.
"So Barclay and Greer stayed in touch all of these years?" I asked.
"Yes, they live in the same town."
"Oh, okay, 'cause Finley said they hadn't seen each other for a while. I thought he meant all of the friends."
She gently shook her head. "No. He and Whitney live about an hour away. I met them for the first time at the airport."
An hour wasn't that far. It would've been easy to visit each other. So I was to believe they hadn't seen each other in over a decade but were still close enough to fly to Barbados together? Something didn't seem right there.
I needed to bite the bullet and ask anyway. "Do you know if Barclay was into drugs?"
Her brows rose and then she shrugged. "I have no idea. Why?"
I hoped to play it off as this being the first time I had thought of it and not that Cady and I had been discussing it for hours now. "It could explain how he died."
"I thought he was allergic to something he ate," she said.
"Maybe. He was diabetic, so I'd think he'd be pretty careful about allergens."
"I didn't know he was sick. That's awful. But no, I don't know if he played with drugs."
"Since you just met Whitney and Finley, are you all getting along?" I asked. I wanted to change the subject to something more easygoing.
"Yes. They are so nice. There has been some tension though."
"Oh?" Friend drama.
She leaned in and whispered even lower. "Greer clenched and tensed up whenever Barclay spoke. All day yesterday and the day before."
I'd noticed that during lunch, but to do it every time seemed dramatic.
"Any idea why?" I asked.
She shook her head and took another photo of the caves as we reached the top. "No, but something was definitely wrong."
For some reason I couldn't help but wonder if Barclay's death had righted it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
An hour and a half later, we were all on the white-hot sand at Carlisle Bay. Blue-green water so clear and vibrant, it looked like a painting. The sky was devoid of all clouds. In fact, I wasn't sure if I'd seen one since we arrived in Barbados. Maybe the island had made a special deal with Mother Nature.
According to their website, Carlisle Bay was a crescent-shaped bay and natural harbor on the west coast of Barbados, with food, fishing, snorkeling, scuba diving, and Jet Skiing. There were also sunken ships on the ocean floor to explore amongst tropical fish, stingrays, sea stars, and turtles.
Now this was a day in port! Not to be disrespectful of Barclay's death, of course.
The only downside was that the very long beach was crowded and loud. People dotted the sand and water. Families with kids and other groups of people, both young and old.
I was famished, and the aroma of the food wafting from the huts opposite from the water made me drool a little. We rented chairs, and then I headed over to the least busy hut. As long as they served something other than snails and octopus, I'd eat it.
I ordered a fried fish cutter with lettuce and tomato and added enough hot sauce that it dripped down my fingers. I grabbed several napkins so people wouldn't oddly stare at me licking my hands. That was how much my stomach had growled.
As I stepped from the hut and took that first delicious bite, I noticed Finley sitting on a stool at the bar that stood in the middle of all of the food booths. On the way here, Cady had told me that he was positive that Barclay had never taken drugs. That he had despised them. Assuming Finley was telling the truth, it shot our theory into confetti-sized pieces. I was afraid I had no clue what happened to Barclay. It was just as well. The police knew how to figure these things out much better than we did.
The bartender set a ligh
t blue drink with a slice of lemon on the side of the glass in front of him.
"Is it not too early for that?" I took another bite of my sandwich, sat beside him, and motioned for the bartender to get me the same. It looked interesting, so I took the gamble.
He chuckled. "Vacation means clocks don't exist."
"Calendars don't exist much on boats. Daytime, nighttime. There isn't much need in knowing if it's Monday or Wednesday. It's all the same."
The bartender set my drink down, and Finley and I clinked our glasses together before sipping.
I tasted lemonade, seltzer, and the potency of rum. It was delicious.
"That must get tiresome, no? Although I imagine all of the beautiful places you visit makes up for it," he said and downed half his drink.
Was it the sun or Barclay that made him ask for another?
"You really don't seem to notice it. Ship life is far from easy and not as glamorous as it appears. There are a lot of safety drills, and you don't get days off unless you're in port, and even tomorrow we have to go in for rehearsals."
"No days off. Isn't that illegal?" he asked.
"If we're not on stage, there's a class to teach, rehearsals, or guests to mingle with. We get breaks and some hours off, but not specific days like Monday and Tuesday or weekends. I guess that's why the day of the week doesn't matter."
He nodded and picked up his second drink.
I sipped mine and knew it would be easy to down these quickly, but I had a feeling Finley wasn't doing it for their fruity goodness. "So how are you handling everything?"
"I've been better."
Yeah, it was a stupid question.
"I'm sorry you're going through this," I said and took another bite of my cutter.
"Do you yet regret hanging out with a bunch of grieving strangers?" His chuckle was deep and got caught in his throat.
My stomach twisted at the pain they were going through, and here I was thinking about cloudless days and delicious hot sauce. "Not at all. I hope we're not intruding on your grief."
He stared into his glass and gently shook his head. He seemed to drift away, probably in memories. Hopefully they were of good times that he and Barclay had shared and not just last night.
"Tell me about Barclay. What is your favorite memory?" I asked.
This was either a good idea that would give him a moment of happiness or bad because he'd be reminded there were no new moments in the future.
He smiled though. That was a good sign. "Freshman year. We'd only known each other for seven months, and he came home with me for spring break. My dad and I had planned a week of camping at my grandfather's cabin. Barclay had never been out in the wilderness. He was such a city boy. He grew up with just his mother, an only child. He'd never met his father, so Dad told me to bring him along."
"That was really sweet of your father," I said, feeling warm and squishy.
Finley nodded, and his smile returned. "Yeah, he's the best. So we were in the woods. It was the third day in, and we'd decided to go fishing. Again. We hadn't caught anything the first two days. We were sitting in a rowboat near the middle of this lake and totally disgusted, assuming we're going to have to go back into town to get dinner. Again."
I smiled because I expected a happy ending to this story.
"All of a sudden I heard Barclay gasping. I turned and saw this shocked expression on his face and the tip of his pole jerking back and forth. Dad and I helped him, and we reeled in a three-pound bass. It was amazing. Barclay was so proud. His face was lit up for the rest of the week."
I softly chuckled, glad it turned out well.
"He told that story to everyone when we went back to school," Finley said with a laugh.
"Did you guys stay close?" I asked.
He smiled and stared into the blue liquid. "He was my best friend in college. In spirit, he remained that all of these years."
He had a faraway look in his eye, and upon closer inspection, he had dark circles under them. His coloring was a bit sallow, despite the tan, and his posture was slumped. This was not the future city councilman I'd met yesterday afternoon. Understandably so.
"Time created some distance over the years, but it was nothing a weekend here and there couldn't mend."
Wait, what?
"I thought you hadn't seen each other in a while." That is what he said yesterday.
He shook his head, and a lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead. He pushed it back. "No, we got together at the cabin once every month or two. Usually Friday or Saturday evenings and stayed the night. We'd go fishing, drink beers, play pool. There were some times that one of us or both couldn't make it, but that was rare."
"Then why did you say not in a while?" I asked before popping the last of my sandwich into my mouth.
"Whitney hasn't seen him in years," he said and sipped his drink.
"Oh, it's good you have recent memories then," I said.
Finley raised his glass and finished the rest of his drink in one large gulp. He motioned for a third. "Sure."
If he wasn't careful, we'd be carrying him back to the hotel.
Finley turned his head and looked me straight in the eyes. "What did you think of him? I heard he invited you to his room."
I laughed and frowned. "How do you know that? It wasn't long before…"
He returned his attention to his empty glass. "He wondered if it was the wrong thing to ask and mentioned it, right before the food arrived. I told him to apologize. Did he get the chance?"
"No, he didn't." That was a shame. I didn't need an apology, but it was nice to know he was going to. Shawn's words ran through my mind.
"The man who sat with us, Dr. Bishop. He told me that Barclay was sending him daggers with his eyes while he was there. Dr. Bishop felt Barclay did that because of me."
Finley laughed again. "That sounds like Barclay. He seemed smitten with you."
This was one fast-moving group of friends.
"We spoke for maybe a total of thirty minutes. No one becomes infatuated that quickly," I said with an arched brow.
"Barclay was special that way. He was never without a beautiful woman by his side, which was why his vacationing alone was unexpected."
Finley laid a fifty on the bar for his drinks and pointed to me. "Mine and the ladies. Keep the change."
"Thanks, man," the bartender said with a big grin.
"Thank you. You're very generous," I said.
We returned to the others as they'd decided to go snorkeling at the shipwrecked boats with the turtles.
It looked like fun, but I was prepared to give up enjoying parts of the island if it meant lounging in one of the chairs we'd rented. I purposely picked one with an umbrella. With all the sun time on the ship, I didn't want to overdo it, even with sunscreen.
Cady beamed at me and gave a thumbs-up before she joined Finley, Greer, and Mimi. She was happy, and that made me relax more. I understood why she was concerned about Aiden though. She loved him. How could she not worry?
"This is nice," Whitney practically hummed as she settled on her lounge chair under the blazing sun beside me. She wore a navy bikini that hugged her gentle curves. Her long legs stretched out and her dark hair twisted up into a braid halo. She could've been a model.
I noticed Finley's third drink on the table to Whitney's left. It was a good idea leaving it behind. Hopefully he wasn't any level of intoxicated beyond tipsy. I doubted drunk and water was a good fit.
"It's beautiful here." I shut my eyes for a moment to escape the surrounding voices.
"Barclay would've loved being here," she said.
"Oh yeah? Would he have gone snorkeling or stayed on the beach?" I asked.
She chuckled. "The beach. He wasn't much of a swimmer, and I think the giant turtles would've freaked him out."
I laughed alongside her.
I didn't want to upset her, but after talking with Finley, I was curious what she had to say about him. "What was he like in college?"
; A smile formed and she let out a light sigh. "Exuberant. He loved life. He would've wanted to snorkel, even if his fear of water and giant sea creatures held him back.
"He was also a ladies' man," she said.
After his proposal yesterday and Finley saying Barclay had liked having a woman by his side, this didn't surprise me. "Oh yeah?"
"He loved to date, a new girl most weeks."
"And how did they feel about that?" This was the part that mattered most. Was he a serial dater and the girls knew what they were getting into? Casual all of the way. Or did he lie and promise them forever, only to shatter their dreams of their futures together?
She grimaced, which answered my questions.
"There were a lot of broken hearts," she said, confirming it.
"Were you one of them?" I asked.
"No," she said adamantly.
I flinched at her tone. "So there was no one special in college for Barclay?"
"Well, there was Pauline. He dated her the longest, and I think he actually liked her for more than a booty call."
So the man was capable of commitment.
"Why did they end, then?" I asked.
She frowned again. "Someone prettier or more flexible came along."
"Charming." I couldn't help it.
"Yeah. He felt bad about it. I remember him looking really upset when he told us he'd ended it. But he quickly got over it when she decided to go all 'boil bunny' on him."
"Tell me she didn't actually boil a bunny?" I understood the reference to Fatal Attraction, but I hoped there hadn't been actual torture involved.
She half smiled. "No, thank goodness, but she seemed crazy enough to consider it. She stalked him for the rest of junior year. It was more of a begging, 'please take me back' kinda stalking and less of a 'I'm watching you' type. She did not let up. She even got plastic surgery done."
Oh my God. "Why? Where?"
"She had her nose done. She'd had a wide bridge originally. She also got a boob job to go from a barely B to a full C cup, and I think she had collagen added to her mouth. There was a subtle difference, so it was hard to tell. She denied all of it, which only made people say rude things. It was obvious she was lying."
Killing in the Caribbean Page 8
