Beachbound (Pineapple Cay Stories Book 2)

by Junie Coffey

  “I’ll let you know. So, you just fabricated a story about packages getting lost under Doris’s desk?” said Nina.

  “No, that’s true. Bernadette’s package was under Doris’s desk for about a month. In the meantime, Bernadette dumped Claude, cut out the french fries, and started working out, so she didn’t really need the special form-shaping undergarments by the time Doris found them, anyway. And who knows? Maybe Mrs. R’s package is under Doris’s desk, and the package in my cart is something else.”

  They drove past neatly kept beds of bright tropical flowers and rows of royal palms, signs leading to a petting zoo and a miniature golf course, and a spun-sugar beach with a row of striped umbrellas shading pairs of beach chairs, most of which were occupied by sunbathers. A line of golf carts painted in primary colors filled the parking area. Nina and Danish passed a few couples cruising along the smooth, flat pavement on bicycles, snorkel gear in their baskets. Just a few miles offshore, Delancy Island™ was a whole world away from Pineapple Cay.

  Nina and Danish rounded a bend, and in front of them was a lovely, horseshoe-shaped cove, accessible by a flight of wooden stairs. In the parking area at the top of the stairs, Philip was standing beside his cart, stretching his back. Nina pulled in beside him.

  “Hello, Philip,” she said.

  “Yes, hello,” he said. “I see the others are already here. I stopped at the botanical gardens myself. It was surprisingly pleasant strolling along in the shade. I quite lost track of the time.”

  Nina looked over the edge of the dune down onto the beach. She could see Sylvia and Victor already comfortably ensconced in two of the low-slung beach chairs set on the sand facing the water. They had rum punches in hand. Razor Hudson was a ways down the beach, walking purposefully along in the surf, head down, his knapsack slung over his shoulder. Bridget was standing beside a thatch-roofed bar between two palm trees and talking to a guy with long dreadlocks tied back in a ponytail. The cheery wooden sign above his head read, IT’S FIVE O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE.

  “Isn’t that your friend Warren?” Nina asked Danish.

  “Yeah. There’s Fuzz, too. They work out here sometimes,” said Danish.

  Nina looked around and saw Fuzz sitting in the shade of a coconut tree, laying out a tray of sliced fruit and cheese. Beside him something sizzled away on a barbecue made out of an oil drum cut in half. Their official party starter, Brad, chatted with some of the other conference delegates. Philip started down the stairs and strode toward the group, with Nina and Danish following him.

  “Now gather ’round, people,” Warren called out. “I’m going to prepare a special island treat for you using only fresh, local, organic ingredients and the finest Delancy’s rum.”

  Warren had a green coconut in one hand and a machete in the other. He lopped the ends off the nut, then hacked away the stray coarse fibers with a couple of practiced chops of the blade. Fuzz wandered over with the platter of sliced fruit he’d been preparing and set it on the picnic table beside Warren.

  “Here in the islands, we live on nature’s bounty. We eat the fish from the sea and the beautiful fruits that grow on our island. Oranges, mangoes, pineapples. Coconuts grow everywhere, as you can see. We grate the flesh and use it to make coconut bread and pies—you can buy them in the market. We eat the coconut jelly and drink the coconut water inside—see?” He held out the coconut so that the bunch of conference-goers gathered around the rustic bar could see the clear juice inside the hollow green globe of the coconut.

  “Now, listen carefully. This is the important part,” said Warren. “I’m going to show you the best way to drink coconut water.” He took a bottle of Delancy’s fine Caribbean rum from behind the counter and poured a generous dollop from a dramatic height, so that it looked like a miniature waterfall of amber elixir as it gurgled into the open top of the coconut. When he was done, Fuzz garnished it with a tiny pink paper umbrella and a red-and-white-striped straw and handed it to Bridget, who was standing in front.

  “Come on, try it, sister,” Fuzz urged.

  She giggled and took a sip. “Yum!” she said.

  “Yeah!” Fuzz said enthusiastically. “Coconut is the wonder fruit. Fix everything. Make you feel like a lottery winner at an all-you-can-eat buffet on a full moon night. Nature’s Viagra.”

  Nina broke away from the group and plopped down in a beach chair to read. After a while, they had a picnic lunch of barbecued chicken, shrimp, vegetable rotis, and fresh fruit while reclining on beach blankets spread on the sand under blue-and-white-striped umbrellas. Brad regaled the group with ribald pirate jokes and then somehow rallied the group for a tug-of-war in the sand and a limbo contest, which Sylvia won. Danish and Bridget joined in the games. Then some of the group peeled down to their swimsuits and splashed around in the lagoon. Victor went to sleep stretched out on a beach blanket with his hat over his face. Philip sat upright in a beach chair in the shade of an umbrella and ostentatiously read a thick academic tome he’d brought with him.

  Razor typed away on his laptop until the battery died. From her beach chair, Nina watched him curse and then walk down to the water and slowly make his way along the surf with his head down. Danish was playing Frisbee with Bridget and a couple of others nearby. He glanced over at Razor as he passed, and gestured for him to join the game. When Razor shook his head, Danish broke away from the circle and walked along the shore with Razor. Danish was talking. Razor nodded once in a while. Finally, they stopped, and Razor unbuttoned the long-sleeve plaid shirt he’d been wearing over his voluminous surf jams. He waded into the water after Danish, who ran into the surf and dove under with a whoop. Good old Danish.

  Nina got up and walked quickly down to the water. She stood with the waves washing over her toes, watching Danish and Razor dive and thrash around in the water like a pair of dolphins. When Razor finally emerged from the water, he was smiling for the first time since he’d arrived. Nina felt guilty for what she’d been thinking, but she did get the answer to the question that was bugging her. Razor didn’t have any angry red scratches on his arms or torso. If he had dragged himself over the broken glass embedded along the top of the back wall of Sylvia’s bungalow, tearing his clothes in the process, he’d somehow managed to do it without hurting himself.

  “Time to head back to your boat!” Brad yelled. “Whoever makes it back to the dock first will get a fabulous prize to take home. You know you want it! On your marks, get set, go!”

  “Come on, Razor!” Bridget yelled at her driving companion as she headed for the stairs, her beach satchel banging against her legs as she ran. “We can do it!”

  Razor gathered his things and walked briskly after her, but he did not run to catch up. Nina could see the wheels turning in his ever-analyzing mind. He liked Bridget and wanted to please her, but he didn’t want to appear too eager to win Brad’s silly contest.

  “Let’s go, Nina. I never win anything. I’m due,” said Danish, grabbing her bag and taking the stairs two at a time. She sighed and jogged after him. She’d be happy to get home. In the parking area at the top of the stairs, everyone was piling into their golf carts. Danish had the motor running, and the red cart was positioned at the front of the line out onto the paved lane.

  “Let’s go! Hop in, Nina! Time is money!” Danish shouted. As she climbed in beside him, he peeled away from the pack and floored it.

  “Jeez, Danish!” she said.

  “It’s uphill most of the way back,” he said. “Let’s hope this baby has some juice.”

  “You know, the prize is probably a Delancy’s T-shirt or something,” said Nina.

  “So?” said Danish. “I like T-shirts. I also like having a good time, and you guys are a bunch of party poopers. Where’s Bridget? Is she gaining on us?” He glanced back over his shoulder.

  “Just watch the road in front of us, Danish, please!” said Nina. She gripped the metal bar supporting the roof and turned her head to look behind them.

  “They’re way back. You’re kin
g of the road,” she said.

  “Woo-hoo!” he shouted, raising both arms in the air. Nina grabbed the steering wheel as the cart veered toward a roadside flower bed.

  “Seriously, Danish!” she said. He took the wheel again, and Nina pulled the map Brad had given them out of her bag. The road back to the dock and the waiting yacht was shorter and less winding than the trip to the Pink Lagoon. She sat back to try to enjoy the scenery while Danish kept the pedal to the metal. Nina could hear the little engine strain against the gradual incline and the pressure of Danish’s foot on the accelerator. They zoomed through a grove of coconut palms and past another cheery yellow-and-blue sign marking the island aviary.

  “Ah, that would have been cool,” said Danish.

  They rounded the last bend, and the dock, Bubba’s yacht, and the bars, restaurants, and shops along the beach appeared in the distance ahead of them.

  “It’s in the bag!” yelled Danish. The clearing with its neat rows of golf carts lay a hundred yards in front of them, at the bottom of the slope. It looked like all the cruise-ship passengers had gathered at Party HQ and were now preparing to return to the ship for the evening. Maybe to have a shower, put on some fancy clothes, and have a multicourse dinner in the dining room. Afterward, they’d catch a variety show or try their hand at blackjack.

  “I can’t stop!” shouted Danish suddenly.

  “What?” cried Nina.

  Danish was pumping the brakes frantically. “The brakes aren’t working! Nothing!”

  Nina looked at the path ahead of them. They were quickly closing in on the golf-cart lot. There were several people milling around among the carts, and Nina and Danish were seconds from plowing into them. Danish pumped the brakes again and again. Nothing. They couldn’t jump out, Nina realized. They were going too fast, and the cart was going straight into the crowd. She looked around frantically. The wide sandy path down to the boat dock was just ahead on the right.

  “Turn right! Turn right, Danish!” yelled Nina, grabbing for the wheel. She yanked it to the right, and the cart bumped off the paved path and onto the sandy track that led down to the dock. The cart gathered speed as it headed down the slope. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the group of people gathered around the golf carts watching openmouthed as Nina and Danish careened past.

  “Get out of the way! Off the path!” she yelled. People loaded down with beach bags and cameras scattered as the runaway cart barreled toward them.

  “Drive it right off the end of the wharf, and then jump clear!” she said, holding on to the bars of the cart with both hands and looking over at his panicked face.

  “I think I can safely predict we’re going off the end of the wharf!” he said, holding the steering wheel steady and bracing himself against the seat with his back. Nina looked straight ahead at the wharf in front of them. It was empty of people, thank God.

  “Runaway cart! Get out of the way! Watch out!” Danish shouted.

  “Stand back!” Nina yelled. “Ahhhhhh!”

  They bounced over the boards of the wharf and right off the end. The cart began to fall away beneath them.

  “Jump, Danish!” Nina yelled. She swung her body out of the cart and pushed off the running board with her feet. A fraction of a second later, she plunged into the sea. The water closed over her head. She closed her eyes and held her breath and kicked to the surface in time to see the roof of the golf cart disappear.

  “Nina!” She heard Danish’s voice and looked around for him. He was swimming toward her. They swam together to the dock, and he boosted her up the ladder. Brad was pounding down the dock, asking if they were all right. Assorted conference delegates and bystanders trailed after him, watching with concerned looks on their faces. Nina looked back at the water where the golf cart had gone in. She could see it now, resting upright on the sandy bottom in ten feet of clear water. She looked at Danish.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Water streamed off her clothes, ran down her legs, and pooled in her sandals. Danish’s dark hair was plastered to his head, and his vintage T-shirt with I AM NOT A TARGET MARKET written across the chest clung to his frame.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. What the hell? Those brakes were fine on the way out.”

  “Nina! Danish! Are you all right?” asked Sylvia, squeezing her way through the crowd to where they stood dripping.

  “No damage done to the cuerpo, Sylvia. Don’t worry,” said Danish. “Faulty brakes, that’s all.”

  “This is preposterous!” It was Philip, pushing his way to the front to stare at Nina and Danish and then glare at poor Brad, who was standing off to the side, making a call on his ship-to-shore radio. Nina assumed he was notifying Bubba or the police or maybe both.

  “It’s just one thing after another!” Philip said.

  “We’re fine, thank you, man,” said Danish.

  “Stand down, Philip,” said Victor, walking up behind him. “First things first. Dry clothes, dry land, and a cocktail to soothe jangling nerves for these two, I should think.”

  Razor and Bridget stood beside him, both looking concerned. Bridget, wide-eyed, had her hands clasped to her chest; Razor was watching them silently beneath slightly knitted brows.

  Brad rejoined the group. “The police cutter is on its way out from Pineapple Cay. Mrs. Delancy is waiting for you all onboard the Take-a-Chancy. She’ll take care of you until the deputy superintendent gets here.”

  “Well, there you go. There is a silver lining to every cloud,” said Sylvia. “The dashing deputy superintendent is coming out to interrogate us over cocktails aboard the yacht. How exciting.”

  “Why would he interrogate us?” asked Bridget. “Is it a crime to drive a golf cart into the ocean?”

  “Well, Bridget, my dear, perhaps he thinks someone tried to murder Nina. Under the circumstances, it is not out of the question,” said Victor.

  “Hey, what about me? I was driving the golf cart,” said Danish with some indignation.

  “No offense, Danish, my sweet. You know I think the world of you, but why would anyone want to kill you?” said Sylvia.

  “Why would anyone want to kill me?!” said Nina. She looked around at their faces. Victor, Bridget, Sylvia, Razor, and Philip, off to the side, glowering away with his arms crossed. It was a ridiculous idea. The small crowd of bystanders from the Take-a-Chancy expedition started to move slowly back up the dock to make room for the sunburned groups of yellow-wristbanded cruise-ship passengers now heading toward the row of tenders arriving from the enormous ship anchored out in deeper water.

  Nina, Danish, and Victor hung back, waiting for the crowd to thin. Victor took off his linen blazer and put it over Nina’s shoulders.

  “So, make any complaints to the police against anyone lately, Nina? Another neighbor, perchance?” asked Danish meaningfully. “Maybe Les is out to get you. Maybe it’s old Philip, the supreme grouch. He doesn’t seem too happy with this conference you’ve organized. Remember? He said it was a black mark on his record, and he blamed you for it.”

  “Who’s Les?” asked Victor.

  “No one,” said Nina firmly. “Why would anyone want to kill me? I can sort of see someone wanting to get rid of Philip. He can be very obnoxious. Even Sylvia, I suppose. She’s a big personality. I guess she could get under someone’s skin—most certainly, Philip’s. But me? Am I really that irritating?”

  “Nobody’s perfect. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Danish.

  “Of course not, Nina, darling,” said Victor, putting his arm around her. “It was just an accident, I’m sure. A coincidence.”

  As it turned out, it wasn’t just an accident.

  “The brakes were cut,” said Blue a while later. He looked tired.

  They were onboard the Take-a-Chancy, still anchored off Delancy’s Island™. Blue and Nina were sitting across from each other at a teak table on the private upper deck, untouched glasses of iced tea in front of them. On the deck below, Danish was back in the hot tub, along
with Bridget and a merry assortment of other passengers enjoying the cocktail hour. The golf cart had been pulled ashore and examined by the police.

  “Are you sure?” said Nina, profoundly shocked.

  “Yes,” said Blue. “Was the cart out of your sight at any point while you were on the island?”

  “Yes, Danish and I stopped a couple of times on the way to the beach where we all had lunch, but there were lots of people around at both the ice cream stand and the pirate ship. Someone would have noticed a person with wire cutters fooling around with a cart, surely. And, anyway, we stopped again after that, to talk to some people along the road, and the brakes worked fine.”

  “Anywhere else?” asked Blue.

  “At the beach, we parked our cart at the top of the cliff and went down to the shore. We were there for a couple of hours.” She thought back, trying to remember anything out of the ordinary.

  “Danish and I were the last to arrive. Philip was still in the parking lot when we got there, and we went down the stairs together,” she said. “We all left at the same time. I don’t remember anyone missing from the beach.”

  Blue sighed. “All right. I’ll be in touch. Right now, I’ve got about a thousand cruise-ship passengers to process before I can let them go.”

  “OK, Blue. Thanks. And I’m . . . sorry,” Nina said.

  He nodded. She watched him go.

  “Well, my goodness!” exclaimed Nancy as Nina rejoined the group by the hot tub. “It is never a dull moment with this crowd. I told Bubba we might just have to stick around a few days to see what else happens. Of course, I am so glad to hear that you and the young man are none the worse for wear. That dress fits you well, Nina. I can see that green is your color. You must keep it as a souvenir of this occasion. It’s not every day a lady drives off a pier in a golf cart!” Nancy threw her head back and laughed.