Shawn…well, it was unlikely that he'd pull up my name on some database, or however one did a background check.
Harvey stood, and we mimicked him. "It may be best if we meet the police down where this happened. We don't want to frighten any guests unnecessarily."
"Yes, of course," Shawn said.
I had no problem with doing this as incognito as possible. I didn't want it to interfere with my ability to mingle with the guests in the days to come. And them getting worried or even curious could mean a lot of questions. Ones I didn't think had appropriate answers for a fun in the sun vacation, especially if this led back to Barclay's murder.
It had to, right?
The phone rang as Shawn and I headed toward the door.
"I'll meet you," Harvey said and answered the call.
We didn't speak as we made our way off the ship. Several guests stared at me, but I smiled and tried to play off that the drowned rat fashion style was what I was going for.
"I should have examined you first." Shawn held out his hand at the bottom of the plank.
I gladly reached out and stepped down to the concrete. "I feel better."
And that was true. There was still throbbing, but it was much duller than before. My nostrils and throat no longer burned, and I didn't feel as confused.
"Still. It's unprofessional of me to not put your health first."
I grinned. "I'm just glad you found me and that you're still by my side."
He squeezed my shoulder. "Of course."
As we reached the spot where I'd been pushed, two men approached from the opposite direction. It wasn't a couple of uniformed officers but Sergeant Clarke and Constable Newton.
"Good evening," said the constable with a nod.
"Tell us what happened," Sergeant Clarke said.
We each told our stories again. The sergeant stared at me up and down. "Is that exactly what you were wearing?"
"Minus the jacket, yes."
"Did this person reach for your purse, try to grab it or pull it over your head?" he asked.
I shook my head. "No, not at all."
The magnitude of that information seemed to hit them all at once. While the police remained professional, Shawn's brows rose and then dropped. Apparently he hadn't considered that someone wanted to specifically push me into the water. Either that or they wanted to play Marco Polo and got cold feet. I was betting on the former.
"Is this about Barclay?" I asked.
The sergeant shook his head. "Do not jump to conclusions. This could've been about anything. Maybe they wanted your purse and when you fell in, they knew they weren't getting it and ran off."
"Yeah, that would be possible if they hadn't hit me in the head and shoved me toward the water twice."
"You think they were after you specifically? Why?" Shawn asked.
I looked into his eyes and wanted to tell the truth, but I didn't want to confess all I knew in front of the police. Doing so meant I'd have to tell about breaking into the hotel rooms, and I really didn't want to get arrested, so I shrugged.
"What were you doing at the hotel earlier?" the sergeant asked. "And before you say anything, know I asked Mr. Murdock's friends if you had visited them and they all said no."
"I didn't say I'd actually visited anyone, just that I was there doing that. I knocked and no one answered."
The words fell from my lying tongue effortlessly. This was becoming too easy. Luckily, they didn't push it.
Sergeant Clarke scratched his jaw. "I will be honest. Finding this person will be very unlikely. Neither of you saw them, no weapon other than their hands were used, and there were no witnesses. Plus, you leave our island tomorrow. It would be hard to prosecute someone without the victim present."
This reminded me of Frank Esposito and the axed man. It was all getting a little claustrophobic. I knew them looking into who pushed me was useless, and part of me was okay with that.
Wait, he said I was leaving tomorrow, which meant he hadn't discovered my fingerprints all over Barclay's room. Not yet at least.
"Does that mean you'll do nothing?" Shawn asked. Annoyance had crept into his voice.
"Of course not. We will look into this and do what we can. If you discover that someone else saw something, please let us know." The sergeant handed Shawn his card.
Shawn took it and thanked them.
We turned back to the ship but didn't say a word until we were on deck. Then Shawn stopped and asked, "Why do I get the feeling there was more to tell but you didn't for some reason?"
My smile had a life of its own. I couldn't stop it. He was very astute.
"So you are hiding something?" he asked.
"Yes."
He widened his eyes. "And you couldn't tell them?"
"No."
"Can you tell me?" he asked.
Should I? I wasn't sure how by the book he was yet. I barely knew him. But I wanted to be honest.
"I'm not sure. I don't know you well enough," I said.
"Why?" he asked with a frown.
"Because breaking and entering is illegal."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Finally in a medical room, I sat on the exam table while Shawn shone a light into my eyes. If this had been a checkup where I needed to undress, I would've asked to be seen by the other physician, Dr. Robinson, who was a very tall, super blonde, older woman from Australia, but since this was only about making sure I hadn't suffered a concussion or any injuries, I didn't mind Shawn's intense gaze. Thinking about disrobing in his presence, despite the professionalism of the moment, had me jittery for more reasons than being sea dunked.
"Do you remember if you hit your head on the side of the dock or anywhere while falling into the water?" he asked.
"No, nope, no sirree."
Shut up, Zibby.
"It was pretty much a face full of ocean."
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and a single dimple emerged. Something we had in common, except I had two.
"You look fine," he said, and for a moment I heard him say that in a you're-hot kinda way, but I was imagining things.
"Gr-great." And it was, except for my impersonation of Tony the Tiger. I didn't want to add brain injury to my résumé. That would surely get me sent home, and that was the last place I wanted to be until the whole Godfather thing was cleaned up. Plus, now more than ever, I wanted to know who killed Barclay.
"Since we're alone, perhaps you can elaborate on what you've been up to," he said. "You don't have to give specifics, if you don't want, but how much should I be keeping an eye on you?"
I chuckled loudly, partly from his cuteness and mostly from nerves, which made him smile. "Cady and I spent the day with Barclay's friends. We went to pay our respects, and it led elsewhere. When we got back from the beach, Sergeant Clarke said Barclay had been murdered."
Shawn widened his brown eyes. "So no allergy or drug overdose."
I shook my head. "Nope."
"And this breaking and entering meant you were snooping in their rooms? How did you manage that?" he asked.
My stomach knotted, and I felt uneasy about giving out the details. The less he knew the better. And it may have been safer for me too. As gorgeous as this man was, for all I knew, he'd call the sergeant as soon as I left.
"Let's say I found a way into Barclay's room and I found some evidence that he was blackmailing his friends."
Shawn pulled over a stool and sat down. "Nice guy."
"Yeah."
"And did you give this evidence to the police?"
I thought about how the SD card was wet inside my bra. Hopefully it would be fine once it dried.
"Not yet. The whole bobbing for fish thing happened."
"And you didn't want to hand it over now because then they'd know you had to do a little B&E to obtain it. I understand."
Did he really? Oh good.
Some of the tension in my neck and shoulders dissipated.
"But this has become dangerous, Zi
bby. You shouldn't be handling this alone. Or at all. This is their job. They've had training for this."
He was right. I would hand over the card first thing in the morning and take a step back. Snooping had been one thing. Almost drowning was another.
"I agree."
His dimple appeared. "I do like when people say that."
I shook my head at his adorableness and laughed. I was about to jump off the table when I remembered what the sergeant said earlier.
"What is succinylcholine? The police said that was what caused Barclay's death."
Shawn rubbed his chin. "Wow, well, it's a muscle relaxant used in anesthesia and during intubation, which explains why Barclay couldn't breathe."
"Oh, that's awful. It sounds like it would've been scary."
"Very much so."
No one deserved to die, even if they were blackmailing their friends. And no one deserved a painful and scary death.
"Whoever did this had to have planned it out. It's not something you can pick up at a local drug store. In fact, I'm not sure how someone outside of the medical field could purchase some. They'd have to get it through the black market," Shawn said.
"So it probably wasn't bought here on the island by a non-native."
"I guess it's possible if the person had connections," he said.
Did Aiden?
"But it's more likely that someone from the States brought it with them," I said. Aiden may have been unhappy if he knew Barclay had seen his drug buy, but why go to such an extreme to buy this type of toxin? It was very unlikely succinylcholine was in that package the cab driver handed him.
Shawn half smiled. "You think one of his friends did this. Yes, but security at airports is pretty tight. I wouldn't want to risk traveling with a controlled substance. Would you?"
Heck no, but I was already lying about who I was, sneaking into hotel rooms, and flipping over balconies, so who knew what I was really capable of.
"The least suspicious way to travel with it would be to have it be a part of your prescribed medicines," I said.
"But that isn't prescribed."
"No, but insulin is. If one of his friends injected it into one of Barclay's vials before leaving Illinois, then…"
Comprehension lit up the doctor's eyes. "Then Barclay and security wouldn't suspect a thing. This would mean it was premeditated."
Which was what I suspected. This meant it was definitely one of his friends and Aiden was off the hook. Relief coursed through me. I was still going to have to tell Cady about the drug dealing, and unfortunately this didn't alleviate him as a murder suspect to the police.
"There is the possibility that the killer did bring it with them and hid it well," Shawn said.
I nodded and mulled this over. "Like in a water bottle."
"Exactly." Shawn stood and pushed the stool back.
I took that as an unfortunate clue to get going. It was just as well. The salty, fishy scent of the ocean had permeated my clothes, and I couldn't stand myself much longer.
Shawn leaned against the sink and small counter against the wall. His clothes had dried, but they looked a bit stiff.
"I ruined your evening in port," I said and slowly descended off the table. The throbbing in my head was still dull, and I didn't want any jerky movement to intensify it.
As if reading my mind, Shawn turned and unlocked the cabinet above the counter. He pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and handed me two. "It's fine. I didn't have plans."
He handed me a small plastic cup of water and locked the bottle of pills back up.
I swallowed them, finished the water, and thanked him.
He took the cup and tossed it into the trash. "In fact, I was going back to the Ocean Grille, hoping I'd run into you."
My entire body perked up. Oh yeah? I wanted to ask why, but it sounded stupid in my head so I kept my mouth shut.
He walked to me and touched my hand. "Promise me you'll be careful."
The thick emotion on his face and in his voice tugged at my chest. I nodded. "Of course."
"Good. Now go and change. I hear there's a birthday celebration shortly on the crew deck."
I took off the jacket. Oooh, I loved those. They always involved dancing, drinks, and delicious cake. "Will you be there?"
He smiled. "I'll swing by."
That warmed me a little. I mentally ran through my closet for which outfit was most impressive. Not overly showy but accentuated the best parts of my body. With him looking at me, I couldn't concentrate. I'd have to do a mini fashion show after my scalding shower.
I set the jacket on the exam table. "Can you return this to security?"
"Sure thing."
I opened the door, and Shawn said, "Zibby?"
I turned back.
"I'll be on this ship for a while. I hope we can change that."
I frowned, not following his train of thought.
"Change you being on the ship?" I asked.
His chuckle was light and feathery. "No. Change getting to know each other."
Oh.
A corner of his mouth tugged up.
Oh!
Warmth crept into my neck and face, and right on time, I morphed from a semisocial butterfly perfectly fine talking about death and poison and into a flustering horsefly smashing into windows. "Ye-yeah. Me…me too."
I turned and practically ran from the room before I ruined our otherwise perfect encounter. I'd been fine when we were talking about murder. What was wrong with me?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I reached my room with my key card in hand and hoped it still worked. It was dry now, so my fingers were crossed. I wished I could say the same about myself. I was no longer making puddles wherever I stood, but my clothes were still damp around the collar and my thighs were still wet, which made walking uncomfortable. It was actually more uncomfortable now that parts were drying. I planned to mourn my missing shoe, and while I hadn't looked at myself in a mirror and had avoided all shiny surfaces so far, I was certain my hair was frizzy and ready to host an 80s theme party.
The light at the key card slot turned green, but before I got a chance to push open my door, Cady flew out of her room.
I flinched and stared hard, looking for the trail of smoke to indicate the fire she was running from.
"Oh my God, it was you?" she exclaimed.
"What was?" I pushed my door open and stepped inside. I'd never been so happy to see this four by six space. Even the shower that stood way too close to the toilet was the most magical place on earth.
"One of the crew members said someone fell into the water. It was you." She followed me in, which meant for a tighter space than usual. She understood how claustrophobic our cabins were, so she got out of the way by sitting at the foot of my bed, with her bare feet tucked under her and her back against the wall.
Since I had no intention of getting my bed wet, I was fine with it. I chose the chair that stood beside the narrow table.
"Tell me everything," she said.
For the fourth time tonight, I repeated the events, but Cady got the in vivid color, blow-by-blow itinerary, including my adventures at the hotel.
When I was done, I felt a slight surge of adrenaline kick in, like I wanted to go back to the hotel and do it all over again. That was absurd though. I didn't want to risk my safety nearly flying down five flights of stairs, nor did I want to almost get caught. Okay, so there was a euphoric feeling to the snooping part—finding out information I didn't already know, learning their personalities and flaws, and even being someplace I was forbidden. I wasn't sure if that was normal.
Cady's mouth literally hung open. "I don't know if I want to pout 'cause you had fun without me or if I want to yell 'cause you could've died," she said. "Again."
I nodded. "Yeah, I feel the same way."
And I did. I'd been having Jekyll and Hyde moments with myself since Shawn rescued me. Or angel and devil.
"I am so sorry," she said.
I kicked off my o
ne shoe and sighed at the missing one. Some mermaid was getting an adorable addition to her collection of thingamabobs. "For what?"
"I got you into this. If I hadn't begged for you to help clear Aiden's bar, you never would've gotten involved."
Technically true, but every choice I made today was my own.
"It was for a good cause. You love him, and he loves you." My stomach knotted as I thought about him and the cab driver.
"But you weren't supposed to get hurt."
I smiled to try to ease her frown. "It's fine. Really."
"No, it's not, but it ends now," she said with a sigh.
"What does?" I asked, not understanding what she meant.
"The end of your sleuthing. What do you think?" Her tone was short and snappy.
Anything but that. "Why would I stop?"
The shower was screaming my name, but my limbs suddenly felt too tired to work properly. I'd just sit here for another minute.
"Why?" she shouted so loud, I flinched and frowned.
What was her issue tonight?
"You almost died, Zibby. You have to stop."
When she put it like that, it sounded like a good idea. The reason I'd decided to live my life on the open sea was to keep my family safe and to stay alive. It would be stupid to jeopardize that. But stopping meant I wouldn't get to learn who killed Barclay, and that felt unacceptable.
"I can't stop now. I'm too close, and this proves that."
She frowned.
Before she could yell at me again, I said, "If the person who pushed me was Barclay's killer, that means I'm closer to discovering who they are than I'm aware. He or she wouldn't take that risk, right outside this ship with the possibility of being seen, in daylight—okay, sunset, but close enough—if they weren't desperate."
Killing in the Caribbean Page 13
