South Seas Shenanigans

by Abby L. Vandiver

  But it was my ability, along with my mother’s eidetic memory, to read the glyphs that got me started on the path I was once again trying to follow.

  In Belize, I had found an ancient slab carved with the cryptic message “Follow the Corn.” In doing so, I ended up believing that the Maya, who many believed became extinct in Mesoamerica by dying en masse, had really migrated to the U.S.

  Georgia to be exact.

  So, I headed to Georgia, initially unable to get into Track Rock Gap, a suspected Maya habitat, to prove my hypothesis, I soon landed a job there.

  That didn’t last long.

  But I found love in Georgia. I’d gotten engaged, and even learned a thing or two about holistic medicine by hanging out with Yasamee’s own Voodoo Herbalist – Vivienne Pennywell.

  After that I took a hiatus from work and hung out with Miss Vivee solving murders. Yeah, so people with a Ph.D. in Anthropology, like me, were a valuable asset in today’s criminology efforts, but these murders had been up close and personal. Too personal for me.

  But now I had gotten it all together and was back on track. I was being the archaeologist I’d been trained to be. My family would be happy.

  Swinging my legs, I watched as the orange sky spread across the horizon, and the yellow glow of lights coming from the bures lit up the shore. It was stunning.

  To tell the truth, I was happy. I enjoyed archaeology and I was good at what I did. Plus, I felt I needed to do it for myself, before I got married, to make sure my lifelong dreams weren’t getting derailed.

  So it had been off to Fiji to follow a different Maya theory – a DNA link between the Maya and the people of Polynesia.

  A breeze brushed by me and it started to rain – a rainforest kind of experience that you see in movies. I took in a deep breath, and blew it out. I felt relaxed, and the burning on my skin had fully subsided. I pulled myself up and walked back into my bure. Housekeeping had brought me clean, uncontaminated linen, and made up the bed. I crawled in, and wiggled down into the sheets, the coolness feeling good next to my body.

  I had gotten into an existing excavation site on Fiji – called Fiji by foreigners and Viti Levu by natives because the nation actually consisted of more than eight hundred islands and islets. I’d had a stipend allotted, bought me a new pair of work boots, and dug out and dusted off my trowel and plumb bobs. And even better, Bay was coming, too. He’d taken vacation time from his job, and we’d gotten him accepted as a volunteer on my dig. He was going to see what my world was all about. I wanted to share everything about me with him.

  I’d kept up with my profession while I was out chasing murderers with Miss Vivee, and I had found that recent genetic studies that involved mitochondrial DNA showed a link between Southeast Asia and the Maya. Mitochondria reside inside every cell and contains separate DNA that is inherited only from the mother. So in theory, even though the DNA helix that everyone knows about comes from a large number of ancestors, mitochondrial DNA can be traced back, through mothers, to a single ancestor. (Of course that would lead to the proposition that everyone’s mitochondrial DNA could be traced back to Eve, for those that believe her to be the first. But, even if that were true, I wasn’t interested in going back that far).

  How exciting, right?

  So I decided to go to Fiji and dig up some bodies so geneticists could have more DNA to use to study their theory, and in the process learn more about the Polynesia/Maya connection through the culture and artifacts I’d excavate.

  Only downside was that once I told Miss Vivee I was going, she decided she wanted to go, too. “Honeymoon!” she’d said clapping her hands and giving the one word reason for butting in.

  Still happy thoughts about the dig and Bay filled my head, my eyes got heavy, my pain brew took effect, and I drifted off to sleep. I dreamt of Bay running through a raging fire made out of pencils, me in his arms, head tucked in his shoulder, carrying me to safety.

  Then a high pitched, blood curdling scream jolted me upright and sent a bolt down my spine.

  “Oh my, God! What in the world is going on?”

  Chapter Three

  I glared at the red digits on the bedside clock as I stepped into a pair of shorts. 6:37 am.

  What the hey . . .

  I made it out of my hut and saw a slew of flashlights illuminating the shoreline. A crowd of people were staring at something laying on the shore. Two somethings.

  What is going on?

  My mouth and throat started to get a little dry as I ran across the wooden bridge to Miss Vivee and Mac’s bure and knocked on the door.

  “Miss Vivee,” I said in a low voice. With all the commotion going on at the shore, it wouldn’t have mattered if I’d scream their names.

  “Miss Vivee!” I hit my fist a little harder on the door. “Mac!”

  Why weren’t they answering me?

  “No! No! No!” I heard over my shoulder, someone obviously distraught down at the shore. The shrill of their cries so loud it could have woken the dead. It seemed to be the same voice that I’d heard scream.

  Why isn’t it waking up the two of them?

  I turned from the door and looked toward the shore. I knew that those two somethings were two bodies. They’d been pulled up onto the beach and were now being covered up.

  Oh my God!

  I faced the door again and banged with two hands. “Miss Vivee! Are you in there? Are you two okay?”

  Nothing.

  Crap!

  I was in a panic. I tried the door knob and it turned.

  Why isn’t this door locked?

  “Miss Vivee,” I called out. I walked through the bure, there were no lights on, and after making it all the way to the back of the hut, I found there wasn’t anyone there.

  What the hey?

  I ran out of the bure, across the wooden bridge and down to the shore, my heart pounding. The last time I’d seen those honeymooners, they were headed out snorkeling. I wasn’t even sure they could swim.

  “What’s going on?” I said, pushing my way through the crowd. I saw Elenoa on her knees, head buried in her hands, she was sobbing. She was a member of the kitchen staff, and one in the troupe of native dancers. I didn’t understand why she would be so upset.

  “An accident,” one guest offered. She must have just arrived because I hadn’t seen her before. “A terrible accident. That girl is really taking it hard. I wonder was she related to them.” She nodded toward Elenoa.

  “He’s killed her,” another bystander said. I recognized him as Hank Harrison, also a guest at the resort. “He has killed Madda.”

  Madda?

  Madda Crawford?

  I jumped in the air, bouncing up and down, trying and see the bodies.

  Who was “he?” I wondered. Was “he” the other body?

  “Ain’t nothing you haven’t seen before.”

  It was Miss Vivee. She was alive! I could have hugged her.

  “Dead bodies,” she said and grabbed my arm like she was holding me down. “What you got in you? Mexican jumping beans?”

  Okay, Miss Vivee. Don’t mess up the joy I’m feeling about knowing you’re okay.

  “What took you so long to get down here?” she asked. She was dressed in a long, rayon skirt with little seashells, a yellow cardigan, the white pearl buttons fastened, and a yellow scarf wrapped around her neck. So different from her usual attire of a cornflower blue coat, and her pocketbook swinging like an appendage on her side. Her more-white-than-black, long hair, just like always, was braided in the back, and hung over her shoulder. She was up and already dressed.

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to be down here,” I said. “It’s like six-thirty in the morning.” I looked down at what I had on. A sleeveless shirt, and short-shorts.

  “Eeeveryone,” she emphasized, “is down here.” She shook her head. “You’re always Johnny come lately.”

  I turned to Mac. I was still happy to see him. “What happened?” I asked. He too was fully dressed.
r />   “They pulled two bodies out of the lagoon.”

  “Oh my goodness. Who was it?”

  “That biker, Campbell Gruger,” Mac said.

  “And that mad cow, don’t forget about her,” Miss Vivee said and smacked Mac’s arm.”

  “Oh my, God, Miss Vivee!” I said. My mind suddenly rushing back to the threat she’d made earlier. “Did you kill Madda Crawford?”

  “Have you gone bonkers?” she asked, her wrinkled forehead filling in with more lines. “How in the world could I have killed her when she was ran through with a motorcycle that someone else was driving?”

  “Is that what happened?” My eyes scanned the shoreline looking for the bike, and then to the bures. I hadn’t even notice when I ran down to the shore the broken planks. They were right at Madda Crawford’s door.

  “Yes that’s what happened,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “He and that bike ran right through her bure, out the other side, into the water, taking Madda with him.”

  “That’s crazy,” I said. I looked at Miss Vivee and let out a sigh of relief. “Still. Even with all of that, I wouldn’t put it past you,” I mumbled.

  “I don’t ride motorcycles,” Miss Vivee said, then after a pause, “Anymore.”

  I tilted my head, a look of incredulity on my face.

  I could smell the lies coming.

  “It was a moped,” Mac said, correcting her before she could expound on the tall-tale that I was sure on the tip of her tongue.

  “It had a motor,” Miss Vivee said, “and it knocked the life out of Madda Crawford. That should tell Logan everything she needs to know. Plus,” she looked at me, a smirk on her face, “that isn’t how I had planned her demise.”

  I shook my head.

  If Miss Vivee was waiting for me to ask how she would’ve killed her, she was going to have to wait a long time.

  Chapter Four

  “We’re all up,” Miss Vivee announced, declaring the obvious, “and the police have to come all the way from Nadi,” she grabbed Mac’s hand. “We should all go and get something to eat.”

  We were on the island of Malolo, a volcanic island in the Pacific Ocean less than sixteen miles off the coast of Fiji. We’d flown into Nadi, the third-largest conurbation in Fiji not even four days earlier, took a helicopter at Miss Vivee’s insistence to our tranquil retreat, and already now there was trouble.

  Miss Vivee had stood over my shoulder while I searched for resorts on the Maypop office computer, and as soon as the picture popped up on the screen, she pointed her finger at it and said, “That’s the place.”

  So we booked at the Likuliku Lagoon Resort, “likuliku” meaning calm waters, and it was surely true, because once we set foot onto the island, all my angst on having Miss Vivee interrupt my dig schedule had been allayed. It was like coming to paradise.

  Stunning panoramic ocean views. White sandy beaches. Swaying palm trees. Pristine turquoise waters.

  The “Tiki huts,” which I soon found were called bures featured traditional architecture, incorporating natural elements unique to the islands. The more economical bures were scattered along the coastline, which hadn’t suited Miss Vivee’s tastes. (Again the one word response: Honeymoon!), so we were booked in the private and exclusive 0ver-water bures that were perched at the edge of the reef of the “calm waters.”

  And calm was what everything had been up until those bodies were found . . .

  We headed up the beach and over to the other side of the restaurant complex. Reminiscent of an old colonial plantation, with its wide entrance and open and airy verandahs, the colonial inspired Restaurant Complex was set back from the beach. We made our way up to the Treetops Restaurant, greeted by the host, we were led to seating on the verandah, overlooking gleaming pools and lush gardens.

  “I see you’re feeling better,” Miss Vivee said as we sat down. She’d had ordered some fruity concoction as soon as we walked in, not even waiting to get the menu. She looked at me over the rim of her glass.

  “Not that you care that I’m better,” I said. “You didn’t even come back to check on me.”

  “What?” She frowned at me. “Are you nine?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “And we did come and check on you. Didn’t we Mac?” He nodded while trying to sip his coffee. “You were fast asleep. A silly grin on your face.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  I must’ve been dreaming about Bay.

  “But next time,” Miss Vivee said and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “We’ll get you a babysitter before we go.”

  There was a loud thud, followed by a series of clangs. I looked over and saw Elenoa. She dropped a whole tray of plates. Eyes still stained, looking upset, she probably shouldn’t have come to work after leaving the accident scene.

  “That’s a clumsy one,” Miss Vivee said.

  I felt sorry for her, and didn’t want to talk about her.

  “How about we get food?” I said to get Miss Vivee’s mind off the mishap.

  “That’s why we’re here,” she said and smiled.

  We ordered the breakfast bar, made our plates – lots of fresh, local fruit, pastries, warm bread and a stack of bacon. Miss Vivee ordered a freshly made, over-easy egg from the Chef, and I got pancakes.

  “So, how did you know about that plant?” I asked Miss Vivee once we had gotten back to our table. I smothered my pancakes in soft, creamy butter and drizzled a sweet maple and strawberry syrupy concoction over them.

  “I looked it up before I came. Didn’t I tell you that?”

  “You looked it up, huh?” I had her now. I finished chewing the sweet, gooey pancake and swallowed. I didn’t want anything obstructing my words so I could be sure she heard me. “Why did you look up that plant?” I asked innocently.

  “I told you, I did a general search on plants that we may come across over here. Didn’t want to embarrass myself and ruin my reputation by accidently touching something that I had no business touching,” she said and arched an eyebrow at me.

  “Well that plant can be found in the United States, too. It’s everywhere. Not just here.” I said, thinking, Now I gotcha.

  “Oh. So now you look it up?” Miss Vivee laughed and tapped Mac on the leg. “She should have thought about that before she touched it.”

  She somehow always wiggled out of being wrong.

  “It’s going around that that Gruger fellow ran his motorcycled over Madda Crawford on purpose because she messed with the chain on his bike,” Miss Vivee said, evidently it being her turn to change the subject.

  I knew it wouldn’t take long before we’d get to the subject of death.

  “Moped,” Mac said, correcting Miss Vivee again.

  “That’s what I said.” She frowned. “Moped.”

  Mac smiled and didn’t say anything else about it.

  I, on the other hand, had a lot to say.

  “You said motorcycle, Miss Vivee. But I was trying to think of that guy’s name. The guy that died this morning. Did you say Camel Gruger?”

  “Campbell,” Mac corrected.

  “Okay. Right.” I squinted my eyes trying to think. “And he was one of the bikers I used to see going up into the mountains, right? He’d come down sometimes, I think I may have seen him snorkeling.”

  “Exactly,” Miss Vivee said and took a bite of her toast. “He struck up a conversation with Mac once or twice, didn’t he, Mac?” Mac nodded dutifully. “Actually, he’s where we got the idea to try snorkeling. Isn’t that right, honey?”

  “Right,” Mac said with a mouthful of potatoes.

  “After he told Mac how much fun it was.” She dipped her toast in the yolk. “I knew I just had to try it.”

  I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on her.

  “So, word has it,” she continued, “that Mad Cow purposely broke a chain on his bike.” Miss Vivee swallowed her food and sipped on her frothy drink. “That pretty green one that he rides around on all the time. As part of her shenanigans, you know
. No one was safe from her pranks. And that’s why he hit her with that moped.” She looked over at Mac, showing she hadn’t used the wrong word that time.

  “How do you find the rumor mill all the way in Fiji?” I asked, shaking my head. “Where did you hear all of this?”

  “Down on the beach.”

  “It just happened,” I said. “We just left the beach. How could this gossip have started already?”

  “It isn’t necessarily gossip,” Miss Vivee said. “Parts of it may very well be true. And it doesn’t take long for people to start to talk. News travels fast.”

  Evidently.

  “Still,” I said. “We weren’t there but for a minute,”

  “You,” she said, “weren’t there but for a minute. Mac and I had been there for a while.”

  “So when did the accident happen?” I asked. “I didn’t hear anything this morning.”

  “It happened yesterday,” Miss Vivee said. “Late. But they only found the bodies this morning.”

  “From last night? No one knew?” I asked.

  “No,” Mac said. “It seems that most of the guest here were on either a Sunset Cruise, or had taken an island hopping tour and hadn’t made it back yet.”

  “You were around,” Miss Vivee said.

  “I don’t remember any commotion. I mean, I guess a moped wouldn’t make a lot of noise, but I didn’t hear a scream or splash or anything.”

  “You’d probably sleep through Armageddon,” Miss Vivee said.

  “Well, I had been sick,” I said. Miss Vivee rolled her eyes. “So, who told you about Madda and the chain?”

  “A birdie told me,” Miss Vivee said, cocking her head to the side and bucking her eyes. “And not one that Madda Crawford had been watching, either.”

  “A birdie? I’m not sure what you mean by that, but just tell me. Who told you?”

  “I’d rather not reveal my sources,” Miss Vivee said. She wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin then pressed it down across her lap. “But it is a very reliable source.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Miss Vivee,” I said. “People that tend to be gossipers, also tend to be liars.”