The Hansens were suddenly busy, doing all the sensible, professional things they had anticipated when they’d struck the deal with Hobart. Two days passed, during which tremendous progress was made. Buildings were completed, a parking lot finished, and the place started to look like a resort in the making. The bus route to Port Louis started operating rationally so that Hyacinth could turn up on time, more or less.
The only fly in the ointment was the presence of the white salvage ship, permanently anchored now off the reef. Sara often found Joe staring out at it, as if the sheer force of his resentment could drive the vessel away. Or sink it.
“We can’t stop them, but we’ve given them some PR headaches,” she pointed out. “That video about them disturbing a war grave has gone viral. The press in Trinidad picked it up.”
“Yeah, but they’re still there,” said Joe, gesturing at the Deep Star. “And if they get the gold, they’re not going to worry too much about bad publicity.”
They stood side by side on the beach, looking out at the white ship. Then a thought occurred to Sara. Perhaps the captain of the salvage vessel would be Lemaitre’s next victim. Surely a seafaring man who was doing something downright immoral would be the obvious target? She almost spoke the thought aloud but stopped herself. Joe still didn’t quite believe in the curse. He had half-rationalized everything that had happened and thrown himself into the task at hand to help dispel any lingering doubts.
The toot of a taxi horn interrupted her reverie. They turned to see Rudy’s battered Ford pulling up outside the bungalow. A tall, red-haired figure got out and started jumping up and down and waving its arms excitedly.
“I think Keri and Ryan are back,” Sara said. “I guess they told her to take it easy, recuperate.”
Keri was hurtling down the beach now, still waving, leaving Ryan to pay Rudy. The tall girl grabbed Sara and lifted her off of her feet. After they’d stopped laughing, Keri gave Joe a kiss on the cheek, all the while talking incessantly.
“I guess it’s a relief, getting out of bed at last?” Joe said.
“Understatement of the year!” the model shouted, spinning around, barefoot in the sand. “I was going stir crazy. Nobody should be forced to spend time in bed. It’s only fun when it’s optional!”
Ryan was taking the couple’s luggage into the bungalow. They walked back up the beach, and Sara was quick to thank Ryan for his father’s help. Ryan shrugged.
“Least I could do,” he said.
Then the two men exchanged a look that reminded Sara of Ryan’s background, his youthful ‘indiscretion’ that had led to a girl’s death. And she realized that he, more than the salvage captain, might be the most likely target for Lemaitre. Ryan had been off the island during the full moon. And Charity Lomax was taken in the act of trying to commit a double murder…
“Penny for your thoughts?” Keri asked as she dumped an over-stuffed bag on her bed. “You have this aura—a lot of stuff’s happened, right?”
As they unpacked and sorted out laundry, Sara told Keri about Mama Bondurant and her promise to let work on Pirate Cove continue. Financially, things were still difficult, but they would get by. Keri, however, was much more interested in the boucaniers’ ‘high priestess’ than their business affairs. Sara was badgered into revealing just how much the woman had said.
“Spooky!” Keri said, eyes wide. “A blind woman saw your face in her dreams! That’s, like, psychic jackpot! Tell me more!”
Joe and Ryan were out on the site and Sara had agreed to deal with some urgent administration. So, while she tackled spreadsheets and emails, she also talked about the fate of Lomax, dreams of drowning, and the simian creature that had shadowed them in the jungle.
“It doesn’t add up to a very coherent picture,” Sara said, slightly apologetic. “And maybe Joe’s right. A lot of it could be down to stress, lack of sleep, me going borderline bonkers.”
Keri put an iced tea by Sara’s elbow and sat opposite her. They were in the kitchen again, Sara’s attention divided between her laptop and her young friend. Keri balanced her perfect chin on her elegant hands and looked over the screen. For the first time since her return, she looked serious, even worried.
“The name you heard—Catherine? And the voice that spoke it, it was French? I mean, you can tell from the pronunciation, right?”
Sara agreed.
“Lemaitre recognized you. He named you. That’s what it means. I mean, why else would he say it?”
Sara stopped typing and frowned at Keri.
“Come on, are you saying he mistook me for an old girlfriend or something?”
Keri shook her head soberly.
“No, he recognized Catherine. You are her, and she is you.”
Sara leaned back in her chair and laughed. But it was uncertain laughter. The idea was crazy, yes. But she remembered something she had once been told about a famous philosopher or scientist. He had said, ‘Your idea is crazy, not crazy enough to be true.’ She had never understood that until now. Keri’s idea lay on the boundary between crazy and believable, given everything else she had experienced.
“You think I’ve lived before?” Sara asked. “Like, I was Lemaitre’s girlfriend or something?”
The teenager made a ‘Why not?’ gesture, long arms waving again.
“Yeah, I believe in reincarnation,” Keri said. “And so do millions of people. It’s right at the core of major world religions. Are they all stupid? All those Hindus, Buddhists?”
“This is not exactly Buddhist country,” Sara pointed out, but she knew it was a weak rejoinder. “And I don’t think I want a long-dead psychopath as my significant other, because I’ve already got one. A husband, I mean…”
Thoughts of Joe made Sara recall the facts she had unearthed about Ryan. She wanted to stop Keri speculating about the curse now that things were going okay, so she decided to tell the girl what she knew about Ryan’s drug offense and his spell in the penitentiary. She could tell, after the first few seconds, that none of it was news to Keri.
“He told me about it, not long after we met,” Keri said, gently interrupting Sara. “He said he’d been seriously dumb and gone to jail. And that he had a rich daddy who made things much easier for him than it would have been for some black kid from the projects. He was ashamed.”
Sara asked her how they met.
“I was at a party,” Keri explained. “Some guy who told me he could get me a part in a movie. A jerk, I knew he was a jerk, but… by then I was kind of messed up. Anyway, I overheard somebody call me ‘that ditz with the tits’, and I just had enough and ran out of the apartment. I was outside crying on the sidewalk, thinking… Well, let’s say they were bad thoughts…”
Sara put a hand over Keri’s hand, squeezed it slightly. She had hoped changing the subject a little would make things less awkward.
“Anyway,” Keri went on, “this guy followed me out and asked if I was okay. And I told him of course I wasn’t and don’t be a dumb jerk. And, yeah, it was Ryan, and he offered to buy me a coffee, and he talked to me because I was still crying and told me he was a dumb jerk but he was trying to be better.”
“And then he asked you for a date?” asked Sara.
Keri shook her head.
“No, he just talked and then called an Uber to take me home. I didn’t know who he was, he hadn’t even told me his name. But I found out, and I asked him on a date. Because I could tell, he was like me. Deep down, I mean. He’d been hurt and was lost.”
Now Sara felt impatient with the girl’s sentimental viewpoint and struggled to keep her words tactful.
“Okay, he did jail time,” she said slowly. “But wasn’t the girl who died from the pills Ryan gave her the real victim?”
Keri’s eyes widened.
“Oh God, I forgot you don’t know what really…”
There was a pause, and the sounds of the construction site filled the bungalow.
“Know what?” Sara asked. “I don’t know what really happened.
So, tell me!”
Keri shook her head emphatically.
“I can’t, I promised Ryan.”
Sara clutched the younger woman’s hand more tightly, not letting Keri pull away. But then a rap on the front door made them both start and jump up. It was Banks, the disheveled detective. He had come to return the Hansens’ passports but seemed inclined to linger after performing that simple task. He stood in the doorway, working his way up to something.
“I’d also like to apologize,” said the Englishman finally, “for all the inconvenience caused by your detention.”
“Thanks,” said Sara, noting that Banks was not looking at her, but past her. “By the way, this is Keri. She wasn’t around when… when we first made your acquaintance.”
Banks was impressed by Keri, who went into maximum flirty mode, complete with hair flicking. Banks seemed flustered by this and turned red under his tan. Sara, feeling sorry for him, offered him a cool drink. He seemed grateful and came inside.
“There is something else,” he said, eyes straying toward Keri’s bikini top, then darting away again. “It’s about… the background to the case. Lomax is still officially missing, but we know what a lot of islanders think.”
“Lemaitre got the bitch!” Keri exclaimed. “She’s on the ghost ship, now, probably sewing pirate pants.”
Banks was startled by this but had to agree with the main point. However, his boss, the police commissioner, was convinced that Lomax had been abducted or murdered. And he was convinced that the Hansens had something to do with it.
“The commissioner is not a superstitious man,” Banks explained. “And he’s up to his neck in the Deep Star business. Expect problems with permits for your diving school, that kind of thing. I know you did all the right things, got the paperwork sorted before you arrived. But there will still be obstruction. I can’t do much about corruption on this island. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“That’s very brave,” Keri said. “You’re taking a risk to help us.”
“Yeah,” Sara said, a little grudgingly, “thanks for the heads-up, I’ll tell Joe.”
After Banks drove off, the four Americans had a quick conference, and as they discussed ways to head off any bureaucratic problems, Sara forgot about her earlier conversation with Keri. Only later in the night as she lay next to a gently snoring Joe, did she wonder what the girl had not told her. And her thoughts returned to the woman with the white, blind eyes and what she had said about them both.
There’s a shadow over him.
***
However, the next three weeks saw nothing untoward happen, at least not by daylight. Work progressed rapidly on the resort, so rapidly, in fact, that Jimmy the foreman found nothing to grouse about for hours at a time. Sara spent some time in Port Louis with Keri, shopping, and checking out possibilities with regard to hair, nails, clothes, etcetera. It quickly became apparent that those who could afford to went to Port of Spain on Trinidad for such things. Port Louis was emphatically a tourist town.
One thing that Keri insisted upon, however, was buying a small car. Sara was surprised to find that the lingerie model had enough ready money to purchase a reasonably new Fiat. Generously, Keri offered to drive Sara around and ‘see the sights’ if they had time. But at the moment, they were kept busy with work. Despite Banks’ warning, no official obstacles had been put in their path yet. Joe’s mood improved, and Ryan was positively buoyant about Pirate Cove.
“Soon we’ll be raking in the cash,” he said after one especially upbeat day. “Guests galore, everything buzzing. Hey, maybe we should start organizing the big opening event? We need music, catering, celebrity guests.”
Soon, Ryan had devised an opening so spectacular it might have done for the Olympics. Sara knew that they couldn’t afford anything so lavish, but let him make extravagant plans, knowing that Keri would bring him back to earth eventually.
It was nearly a month after the Lomax incident that Keri decided to throw a dinner party. This came out of left field, but Sara felt it was a good idea. They had some favors to return, after all. So, after overcoming some initial reluctance from Joe, they invited Miss Mountjoy, Rudy, Hyacinth, and Marie Mendoza. Keri insisted she could cook everything and that Sara could ‘put her feet up and chill’.
On the evening in question, Hyacinth had to work, but Rudy, his mother, and Theresa Mountjoy turned up. After some initial stiffness, the motley group relaxed a little, and conversation flowed along with the cheap but acceptable wine from Port Louis. Inevitably, Keri wanted to quiz the librarian about local legends and all things paranormal. Sara felt slight unease at this, but her dreams had been far from memorable lately, and she decided to let the conversation flow naturally.
“Why does Lemaitre only take one soul each full moon, if he takes any at all?” Keri demanded. “Why one?”
“Opinions vary,” said Theresa. “Some say it’s because God allows the wicked to do his will and remove bad elements from the population. Some claim it’s because the familiar, the so-called monkey, has the power to partly overcome the exorcism. And some claim that it’s due to the power of love.”
The old lady looked around the table, pleased at the surprise on the others’ faces.
“Yes,” she went on, “love is supposed to be part of the legend. Lemaitre, you see, is supposed to have become a privateer to impress a young lady of superior birth. This rather snooty girl wouldn’t condescend to accept his proposal unless he had a fortune. So, when war broke out, he enlisted as a legalized pirate in the service of King Louis. But—and this is the silly part, I feel—Lemaitre’s sweetheart died and this sent him off the deep end. He became a monster. His dalliance with Satan is supposed to have begun as an attempt to bring his love back from beyond the veil. Quite blasphemous, not to mention ridiculous.”
Keri was looking at Sara.
“Is there something wrong with the pasta?” the girl asked.
Sara looked down at the food balanced on the back of her fork.
“No, it’s great,” she said, her mouth full. “I just wondered—what was the sweetheart’s name?”
Theresa’s brow furrowed in thought.
“You know, I can’t remember. So sorry, it’s one of those things I should know. But my old brain isn’t what it was. I’d have to look it up.”
Marie Mendoza, who had been listening quietly, spoke up.
“It was Catherine. Catherine Le Foix. A young lady of noble birth.”
Marie went on to explain that her mother had been a great source of local folklore and gave some examples of such beliefs. But Sara scarcely heard. The French pronunciation of ‘Catherine’ had jolted her back to the police cell, and then inevitably to the death of Lomax. She looked through the archway that linked the dining room to the kitchen. The undead creature had backed her into that corner, against the fridge, cold mouth pressed against hers. She had not dreamed it. Everything pointed to its being real.
“How did she die?” Sara blurted out, interrupting Marie. “I’m sorry, that was rude, but how did she die?”
“They say the ship bringing her from Europe was caught in a storm, just beyond Refuge Bay,” Marie said. “Her father was a wealthy merchant, and it was one of his ships. It capsized, and Catherine was dragged under by her fine dress. When Lemaitre heard, he refused to believe she had drowned, said she must have survived and was on the island somewhere. Then he insisted on all his men going out to search for her. When they couldn’t find her, he went crazy with grief. If he could not have happiness, he would deprive everyone else of theirs.”
Joe remarked that that was a pretty feeble excuse for becoming a mass murderer. He was clearly uncomfortable with the whole subject. Ryan said that a guy losing his girlfriend foreshadowed even worse events in the Star Wars universe, whereupon Keri kicked Ryan under the table. Sara got up and said she had drunk her wine a little too quickly and needed some air. She saw Joe looking at her wine glass, which was half full. It was her first glass of th
e evening. He half-rose, but she waved away his concern.
“I’ll be back in a minute, honey, no worries.”
She stepped out of the back door and closed it behind her. The sound of conversation resumed, just barely audible above the noise of the surf. She walked around the bungalow and down to the margin of the beach, noting that the moon was already visible over the jungle, and almost full. Then she stood and looked out at the reef. The salvage ship had gone for the night, presumably back to its base in Trinidad. A small fishing boat was visible, however. She imagined the fishermen looking back at her and waved.
“You did not invite me to your party, even though I did you a kindness,” said a strong voice with a strong French Creole accent. “But I am not offended. Social gatherings can be very dull.”
Chapter 13: Prophecy and Profit
“But perhaps you will come to dinner at my home, sometime,” said Mama Bondurant, looming close behind Sara. “I can promise you the finest of traditional cuisine. Though I think your friend Keri would not appreciate it. We are all carnivores here.”
Sara stared, took a pace back.
“God! How did you…”
Sara looked around, but the woman seemed to be alone.
“My helpers are nearby,” the priestess explained. “I wanted to have what you call a one-to-one, I believe?”
Sara looked back at the bungalow, but there was no sign of anyone following her, and she was currently out of sight of the dining room. She turned back to face Mama Bondurant, just in time to flinch as the woman’s agile fingers again touched her face.
“You have been puzzling me, Sara Hansen,” the woman muttered. “I do not like puzzles. And I have sensed changes, great changes coming, and this, too, I do not like.”
“What kind of changes?”
The tall woman turned her face to the reef. For a moment, Sara thought she would receive no reply. But instead, the priestess closed her eyes and raised her arms. The small fishing boat was still there, but Sara felt sure the gesture was not intended for its crew.
Devil Ship: Supernatural Suspense with Scary & Horrifying Monsters (Devil Ship Series Book 1) Page 17
