Killing in the Caribbean

by Jennifer Fischetto

  I wish I knew which piece of evidence I'd found that would lead me to the killer though. My money, at the moment, was on Greer. I did not trust that hothead.

  Cady widened her eyes while vigorously shaking her head. "No! None of that matters. What does matter is that I have my friend and she doesn't end up as fish food."

  I doubted there were sharks near the docks.

  "I can help clear up any business with your fingerprints in Barclay's room. I was with you when he was killed, you didn't know him before we ported, and I watched you enter his room. After his death."

  Technically she wasn't with me all day and she didn't know who I knew, but she had a point.

  "And what about Aiden? We started this for him. Isn't this still about saving his business?" I asked. I had trouble believing Aiden got his hands on that drug and slipped it to Barclay, but the police still considered him a suspect. We all were suspects.

  She bit her lip and looked off. "Yes, of course. But there has to be another way that doesn't risk your safety."

  She scooted off the bed and knelt in front of me. Her blue eyes were watery as she grabbed my hand, and her voice cracked. "Please, Zibby. I can't lose you. I can't survive working here if you're gone. We'll find another way to help Aiden."

  Wow, she was really upset.

  How could I look at her and not agree? I was hesitant, but maybe I wasn't looking at all of this clearly because I was too close to it. Not to say my life didn't matter, but I wanted to believe I was safe despite what happened tonight. Maybe that was foolish.

  "Okay," I said and offered the tiniest smile. It was the best I could do. It kinda felt like someone snatched away my presents and cake on my birthday and I was expected to still show gratitude.

  "I will stop as long as Clarke and Newton don't arrest me," I said. Of course, if they did, I wouldn't be able to investigate from a jail cell.

  She jumped up and clapped. "Thank you."

  "Can I go take a shower now? I feel gross." I stood and walked the three feet to my bathroom door.

  As I entered, I thought of the SD card still in my bra and looked back. "I need to show you something later."

  She didn't ask what it was but nodded.

  I shut the bathroom door, pulled out the card, and sandwiched it in an extra towel. Then I peeled off my clothes and hurried into a steamy shower.

  Why was I okay with rushing into harm's way? I ran from New York to save Mom and Timmy, and I was terrified Frankie and his goons would come after me. It was only a matter of time. Sure, if they'd killed me right away, it would've looked suspicious, so they threatened Mom to keep me quiet. If I had stayed in the city though, eventually the trail would freeze and the police would forget about it. Then Frankie and his goons would have no reason to not knock me off. They could easily make it look like an accident, or I'd turn up missing, like the axed man.

  So yeah, I ran 'cause I didn't want to die. But here I was putting myself in danger, and this time I wasn't even involved. I was doing this to myself for no reason.

  That person who shoved me pushed me hard. Their intent was to get me into the water. Was it to scare or kill me? But who could've known I was there at that moment? They had to have followed me.

  The thought sent goose bumps along my arms even under the hot spray of water.

  Was it a coincidence that this happened after I found the SD card? Surely none of his friends knew I had it. I doubted they knew it existed or where it was. If they had, they would've taken it themselves. And while Greer had to have seen me bolt out of his room, he couldn't have known I had the card.

  Aiden.

  His office door was ajar. Had he seen what was on the card? If he had, he couldn't have left his bar to follow me back to the ship. Right? He wouldn't have locked up when he went to the police station. He desperately wanted those customers.

  I rinsed the soap off my body.

  Cady was right. I needed to stop. This had become too risky. My desire to stay healthy and alive outweighed the need to catch Barclay's killer. I could find out who did it via the internet. Tomorrow was our last day in port anyway. It was highly unlikely I'd figure it out in less than twenty-four hours.

  I turned off the water, grabbed my towel, and wrapped it around me. Then I squeezed the excess water from my hair, gathered my clothes and the SD card, and went back into my room.

  I stopped short when I realized Cady was still here.

  She smiled. "I couldn't wait. I want to see what you want to show me."

  I offered a half grin because she wasn't going to like this and held out the card. "I found this in Barclay's room. It has incriminating evidence on each of his friends."

  She took it and turned it over as if she could read it with her naked eye. "You found it this morning and didn't tell me?"

  "I didn't know I had it." I explained what had happened.

  She continued to stare at it. "How do you know what's on it?"

  I tossed my wet clothes on the floor beside my closet and opened it to reach for fresh ones. "I went to the bar looking for you and borrowed Aiden's computer."

  "He's so great," she said with a dreamy sigh.

  My stomach knotted.

  I pulled out a pair of pastel pink flip-flops and slipped them on. "Yeah, about that…"

  "What?" she asked.

  I reached for my Chromebook on the top shelf in the closet and set it on the table. "Be prepared."

  While she booted my computer, I grabbed a pair of gray cargo capris, which reminded me of Shawn, and a black, off-the-shoulder tunic that knotted at the waist. I found my only strapless bra and clean undies and put them on under the towel.

  By the time I was fully dressed, the computer had loaded and she was inserting the SD card.

  I grabbed a wide-tooth comb from my toiletry basket and pointed to the Miscellaneous folder and then the video.

  She softly gasped as Aiden came into view.

  I combed through my tangles, wishing I'd used conditioner in the shower, and willed myself to not get upset every time she widened her eyes or covered her mouth with her hand. I had to show her. What kind of friend would I be if I pretended I didn't know?

  When the video ended, Cady frowned and shook her head. "What?"

  I pointed to the screen. "Didn't you see the exchange?"

  She shrugged. "I saw something but nothing specific."

  "Aiden gave that man an envelope of cash."

  "Yeah, and? What? You think it was drugs?"

  "And you don't?" I couldn't tell if I was seeing things unclearly or if she had blinders on.

  "It could've been anything. He owns a bar. Maybe the guy was delivering…um, personalized napkins."

  Seriously?

  I filled her in on that guy being the cab driver at Lagoon Blue.

  She stood, walked to my door, and left.

  Not a sound or word.

  Now it was my turn to have my mouth hang open.

  I wasn't sure if I should've gone after her or what. Clearly she wasn't thinking straight. Perhaps she needed some time alone.

  I shut my door, finished messing with my hair, and put on a light coat of mascara, blush, and lip balm. I didn't want sticky gloss or lipstick to interfere with my upcoming date with a slice of birthday cake. It was literally the only thing keeping me upright rather than horizontal on my bed.

  I dumped my purse in the bathroom sink and then laid each item on an open towel on my bedroom floor. The phone turned on. Score. And everything else was salvageable. Well, maybe not the lipstick, but I had more than one. I spread out the dollar bills and other paper currency I had from other ports. Luckily my Visa card was accepted worldwide.

  After changing the flip-flops for a pair of black leather, closed-toe, sling-back sandals, I pulled out the burner phone and dialed Kyle.

  He picked up immediately. "Agent Doyle."

  "Kyle, it's me."

  "Two calls in one week. I must've won the lottery." His chuckle surprisingly warmed me. Despite ou
r past, it was nice being able to talk to someone who knew the whole me, and I wouldn't have to remember which details were lies.

  His laughter cut short. "Wait, is everything okay?"

  The concern oozed from his voice. It gave me a weird fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach, like warning bells. Despite him cheating on me, he'd once been rather protective. Not in an abusive or creepy way but definitely territorial. We were kids though. He'd probably outgrown that, and last I knew, he was seeing someone. At least he was when I got him involved in my mess almost a year ago. We didn't discuss our romantic lives.

  "Yes, I'm fine, but I need a favor. Can you find out why an agent in Illinois gave his business card to a dead man in Barbados?"

  "What?" he shouted.

  Okay, so yeah. In hindsight, that question was not only confusing but misleading as heck.

  I explained everything that had happened since the last time I'd spoken with him, and when I was done, I didn't hear anything on the other end. Had the call dropped, or had I stunned him into silence?

  "Kyle, are you still there?" I bit my lower lip.

  "Oh yeah, I'm just trying to figure out why you're suddenly playing cop and why you didn't have these brass cojones when you were in New York."

  I rolled my eyes. "That's completely different. Frankie was after my mom. Here…it's me, myself, and I. Besides, I promised a friend I'd keep out of it from now on anyway."

  "Good," he said.

  "Can you please look into it?" I asked with enough pleading in my tone to sound like a little kid. "I'm only in port until tomorrow night, so if you could do it ASAP, I'd appreciate it."

  He scoffed or sighed. They sounded the same coming from him. "What does it matter if you've let it go?"

  Good point. I'd been so determined to call Kyle and tell him about the card that I didn't think otherwise when I dialed.

  "Just for the heck of it," I snapped. I was already a little annoyed I'd promised Cady. While it was a great decision on a physical level, I wasn't mentally ready to give it up. Shoot.

  "I'll poke around, but I can't promise anything without being direct with this agent, and I doubt you want someone else knowing where you are."

  I widened my eyes. Absolutely not. "No, just see if he'll spill in a way that doesn't involve me."

  "Of course. What's his name?"

  "Seymour Jones." I lifted the wet card and read the phone number.

  "I'll get back to you," he said.

  I grinned super wide. "Thanks, Kyle. Oh, one more thing. If you were embezzling thousands of dollars from your employee, why would you only deposit eight grand into your account?"

  "What have you gotten yourself into?"

  When I didn't respond, he sighed and said, "The bank has to file a Suspicious Activity Report for any withdrawals or deposits over ten thousand dollars. It's a part of the Patriot Act."

  Oh, how sneaky.

  "So depositing less would keep him under the radar," I said.

  "Supposedly. If he did it often enough, the bank could still file."

  "Okay thanks, Kyle. I really appreciate your help."

  "Liz, be safe."

  "I will. Promise."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "Happy birthday to you," we all sang.

  Omar, a crew member from Morocco, blushed as he bowed his head to the lit candles and blew them out.

  "Yay!"

  A roomful of sixty or more people cheered and clapped, deafening each other.

  The birthday celebration was being held in the crew lounge, which didn't feel large enough to accommodate everyone, but once cake was served, the overflow would move on to other areas of the crew quarters. This was the eighth party I'd participated in since I started working for Voyage Cruise Line, and they were always the same. Loads of fun and the cooks always outdid themselves with their cake mastery.

  Tonight's delight was a two-layer chocolate sheet cake with chocolate espresso frosting.

  I grabbed a piece and stepped out of the way, bumping into Cady.

  "Hey, sorry to rush off like that before." She eyed my cake and not me, which meant she was embarrassed. Or hungry. Maybe both.

  "It's fine. It was a lot to take in. I should've warned you. I wasn't thinking clearly." It was unkind of me to thrust it at her.

  "Who could blame you? You nearly drowned," she said low enough so only I heard.

  My "accident" wasn't a secret, but I hated the spotlight when I wasn't on stage, and she knew this. I'd already gotten a few how are you's when I entered here earlier. I assumed it was the way I casually waved away anyone's concern that told others the topic was off limits.

  "But I still don't believe that exchange was what you think. He's not that kind of person. I would know."

  Would she though? She saw him in person less than a handful of times a year.

  "Let's not discuss this now. We're at a party." Cady faked a smile that didn't reach her eyes and turned to get cake.

  I took a couple of bites and then saw Ida Michaels across the room. She worked as a manicurist for Voyage. I'd met her through her friend, Amy, who was a hairdresser. One day Cady had wanted to treat herself, so I sat in the salon while she got the full treatment. She, Amy, Ida, and I ended up laughing and chatting about romantic comedies. I wasn't a huge fan, but Cady was, so I'd watched my fair share with her on board during our downtime.

  I stepped past two of the cooks debating if the best way to make rice was by boiling and draining it or putting in double the water for it to absorb it all.

  "The first way gets rid of unwanted pesticides and chemicals."

  "But then you can't cook it in broth, coconut milk, or other flavorings without wasting it."

  Ida was seated on the arm of a long couch. She didn't have cake or a drink in her hand. I wasn't sure if she had just arrived or was on her way out.

  "Hey, how are you?" I asked.

  She smiled and pushed her honey blonde hair off her shoulder. "Good. How are you? I heard you almost drowned. What happened?"

  Although I knew her a tiny bit more than the first people who had asked me, I didn't want to alarm her.

  "It was nothing. I fell in. Teaches me to stay away from the edge, huh?" So I made it sound like I slipped. It wasn't really a lie, because if I hadn't been near the water, I may have had a chance to fight back.

  "Well, glad you're okay," she said.

  "Thanks."

  On my way down here, I thought about Greer's skin issue. I imagined it was why Mimi had that business card in her purse, but what if that rash had something to do with the toxin that killed Barclay? Maybe he put it in one of Barclay's insulin bottles and in doing so, it spilled onto his hands. I needed to ask Shawn what would happen with physical contact, but since Ida was in front of me now, I could see what she knew. She was a manicurist not a dermatologist, but she worked with nails on hands and hands had skin, so maybe she had some knowledge.

  "I've a question. What do you know about skin that's red and scaly?"

  She cocked a brow and looked like she wanted to run away from me. "I know I want to stay away from it."

  I couldn't help but chuckle from the disgusted expression on her face. "Don't worry. It's not me."

  Her expression relaxed and she giggled. "Sorry, but in my line of business, you have to be careful. Full safety measures. Especially dealing with feet."

  I didn't want to know.

  "I met a guy who wears fingerless gloves. When he took them off, he had patches of red, flaky skin on the backs of them."

  She pursed her lips for a second. "That could be several things, from a rash like poison oak or some lotion or cleaner that he's allergic to. He could have eczema or even use some abrasive chemicals to strip grease off his car engine. I can't be sure without seeing it, and even then, I'm not a doctor."

  I doubted Greer was a novice mechanic, but who knew? I couldn't claim I knew any of them, only their secrets.

  "Yeah, I figured I'd ask."

  She gave a hal
f smile and looked over her shoulder.

  "Waiting for someone?" I asked.

  She turned back and her grin had become sly. She stood up. "I'm not sure. I'll have to get back to you on that. Got to run. Have a good night, Zibby."

  "You too."

  She took off, and I considered doing the same. I'd put in the right amount of time. I doubted Omar would mind.

  He was standing by the drink station. It was a good time to wish him a happy birthday directly, grab more water, and then hightail it up to my semicomfy bed.

  "So how does it feel turning whatever age you are?" I asked and immediately realized how lame that sounded. I didn't know the man, although he'd always been polite in the corridors and crew areas. He was a quiet guy who seemed to keep to himself.

  "It's simply a number. If not for everyone here, I would not give it a second thought." He had to be in his early forties, and I believed he'd spent most of his adult life as a crew member.

  "I hope we didn't force this on you," I said and refilled my cup.

  He shook his head and stepped aside for someone to reach a napkin. "No. This is lovely. People care. I am not much of a birthday person."

  "I hear you," said a deep voice behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw Shawn dressed in black Chino shorts, a short-sleeve blue and white checkered shirt, and deck shoes. This was the most casual I'd seen him to date. He stood so close, I could feel his warmth radiating off his skin. I nearly sighed, wishing to lean back and snuggle against his form. Luckily I caught myself before doing something I could never live down in a roomful of people I lived and worked with.

  Shawn reached out his hand toward Omar. "Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn't be here for the singing."

  He winked at me while they shook hands.

  "Thank you, Dr. Bishop," Omar said.

  When Shawn didn't tell Omar to call him by his first name, butterflies swarmed my stomach. Had he only reserved that for me? What did Cady call him?

  "How are you feeling?" Shawn asked me.

  I opened my mouth, and that nervous energy pushed up my throat, threatening to bubble out in some type of anxious burp. I shook my head. Not now, Zibby. Just be normal. I thought of Barclay's dead body. Not the most pleasant image, but my pulse slowed a bit. This confirmed it. I was a freak. I couldn't talk to the man when we were flirting or I was looking at him with heart emoji eyes, but have the subject be about death, and I was totally fine.