Bluewater Jailbird: The Tenth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 10)

by Charles Dougherty

  "You have any men on the side?"

  Anger flashed in her eyes. "No, detective. How all this meanness gon' help find Derek?"

  "It's important for me to know as much as I can about Derek; I need to know what he likes, what he's interested in, see."

  She gave him a questioning look. "That lady, she say somethin' like that, but she don' ask no questions 'bout Derek's morals, nor mine, either."

  "Lady?" Lucas asked, eyebrows climbing to his hairline. "What lady?"

  "You didn't send no lady 'roun' here to ask me questions?"

  "No. When was she here?"

  "Little while ago. Say she had some questions to follow up on what I done tol' you. She read me what you wrote in that little black book las' time you here. Had one jus' like it she was lookin' at, 'bout like that one you got in your hand. I t'ink she been talkin' wit' you, writin' down what you say, like you done wrote what I say."

  "I understand," Lucas said, "but I didn't send her. Did she give her name?"

  "Carlotta somethin'. Spanish, I t'ink."

  "She was, or her name was?"

  "Both, I t'ink. She talk like them doctors at the clinic. The ones come from Cuba, you know?"

  "She spoke good English? Or broken English?"

  "Good, like you, but wit' the accent like the Cubans."

  "What did she look like?"

  "Pretty girl. Dark skin, fine features."

  "Hair?"

  The woman squinted. "Black."

  "Curly or straight?"

  "Straight. Down to 'bout here, mebbe." She held her right hand flat, palm down, her fingertips touching her jawbone.

  "Tall or short?"

  "She 'bout my height. Skinny, like them TV women."

  "Anything else about her that might help me recognize her?"

  She shook her head.

  "Eye color?"

  She frowned. "She wearin' glasses."

  "Dark glasses? Sunglasses?"

  "One of the Cubans wore them. They get dark outside, light inside, magic-like. You know them?"

  "Yes. But you couldn't see her eyes?"

  "I could, but I don' know what color."

  "Okay, Mrs. Mitchum. Thank you. I'll be in touch."

  Chapter 17

  "Hyacinth and Amaryllis haven't come in for their shift yet, and neither one answers the phone. Can you come in? There will be overtime pay — we don't have — " she listened to the woman on the other end for a few seconds. "Thanks, Ellen. That will help a lot. See you soon."

  Relieved that she had solved her staffing problem, at least for today, Mary Jordan hung up the phone and pushed the chair back from her desk. She stood and stretched, putting her hands behind her and arching her back. She was more surprised than annoyed by the two women who were now four hours late for work. They were her two most senior guards, sisters, who had begun working in the prison not long after she had. They had always been dependable, and they were critical to keeping the inmates in line. Hardened by their time here, they weren't reluctant to use a little muscle to keep order among the unruly women prisoners.

  As her phone rang, she sat down and rolled her chair forward to answer the call.

  "From the hospital?" she asked. "Put her through." There was a click, and she said, "This is Mary Jordan."

  "Ms. Jordan? This is Sally Weathers in the emergency room. Hyacinth Bet ... something ... I couldn't understand her. Anyway, she asked me to call you. She and — "

  "Did you say emergency room? Hyacinth's there?"

  "Yes. And her sister. Hyacinth's in better shape than her sister. She just regained consciousness. Her sister is — "

  "Wait. What happened?"

  "We don't know, exactly. Hyacinth was only partly coherent. She was demanding that we call you — something about work?"

  "Yes, yes. They both work here. Can I speak to Hyacinth?"

  "I'm afraid not. Not for a few hours, anyway. She's in surgery right now, under a general anesthetic."

  "How did they get to the hospital?"

  "They were found at a bus stop. I guess it's near their house. The driver called an ambulance; he knew them as regular riders. Somebody attacked them, beat both of them senseless. One of them had one of those clubs like they carry. She was gripping it in both hands when he found them."

  "They both would have had batons. Was the other one found, do you know?"

  "I guess not. He only mentioned the one to the ambulance driver."

  "Are they going to recover?"

  "Hyacinth's looking okay, but she's got a serious concussion. The other one ... sorry, do you have their names? I got Hyacinth, but the last name wasn't clear."

  "Yes. Hyacinth and Amaryllis Betancourt. They've worked here since I started 20 years ago. You were saying? About their recovery?"

  "Yes. Hyacinth's got several broken ribs; one of them punctured a lung. Both elbows and knees smashed. Amaryllis took a worse blow to the head; maybe a skull fracture. Her other injuries are similar. The ER doctor thinks somebody meant to cripple them; only one blow to the head for each, but massive damage meant to inflict pain. Most likely that neither one goin' to be able to walk again."

  "Have the police been notified?"

  "That's my next call."

  "I'll handle it. If anybody asks, tell them Detective Constable Lucas in Violent Crimes has been notified. Thanks for calling."

  "Okay, but there's one other thing, if you're going to notify the police for me."

  "What's that?"

  "Hyacinth kept mumbling something about a Cuban woman."

  "Cuban? That's odd."

  "I don't know, Ms. Jordan. I have no idea if she even knew what she was talking about. She was in and out of consciousness before we doped her up. But besides calling you, that's the only thing we got that we could understand. Her jaw's probably broken."

  "Okay, good. I'll pass that along to Detective Constable Lucas. Can you please let me know when either one of them is coherent? I'll want to see them, and I'm sure Lucas will have questions."

  "Certainly. I'll just make a note on their charts, right now."

  ****

  Once Lucas got back on the road to Castries, he put aside his questions about the Cuban woman who had questioned Mrs. Mitchum, at least for the moment. He didn't even know if she was the same one who had stolen Mary Jordan's purse. There were quite a few Hispanic people on the island; many of the locals didn't distinguish their nationalities, though they were often lumped under the term "Cuban" as a result of Cuba's long-standing commitment to providing medical care to her Caribbean neighbors.

  During the Chávez era, when Venezuela had been oil-rich, there had been a lot of Venezuelans in evidence as well. Chávez had offered all sorts of humanitarian aid to the island countries, and for several years, any Hispanic was likely to be called Venezuelan. But Cuba had staying power; the Cubans had been consistent in their helpful presence for many years.

  Lucas wanted the killer who resembled Selwyn Graves. He organized his thoughts for a minute or two and picked up his cellphone. He called his office and tracked down a direct number for Theodore Barron. Waiting for the call to go through, he contemplated how to get past Graves. He assumed Graves would be screening Barron's calls, and was surprised to hear Barron's deep voice say, "Hello?"

  "It's D.C. Lucas, Mr. Barron. I've been thinking about what you said."

  "Yes. And?"

  "About the Berger woman."

  "What about her?"

  "I'm still trying to understand some things about her."

  "Like what?"

  "Well, to start with, how could she have overpowered three men? Tough men, at that. You and I both know they were hired muscle. And why she would have come back and killed them later. Seems that she could have done that when she escaped."

  "You have the advantage here, Lucas. I never met the woman."

  "She was just a girl, really. Small, slight build. She had a mouth on her, but still ... and then to kill them in cold blood? Why?"

&nb
sp; "Perhaps she had help, detective."

  "Help? That would make sense. How though? Especially for the escape. I mean, granted, she had some time to arrange for help if she wanted them dead later on, but nobody even knew where she was when she escaped. Except for your people, of course, and they obviously didn't help her break free."

  "You don't know who she is, do you Lucas?"

  "Danielle Berger. American passport, part owner and captain of a charter yacht, been around the islands a long time."

  "The name Berger mean anything to you? Like in J._P. Berger?"

  "N-no. Should it? He related to her?"

  "He's her father. He's also rumored to be in the arms business."

  "You mean, like a gun-runner?"

  Barron laughed. "Not exactly. Let's say you're the Prime Minister, and you need to build up your military. We're talking a bigger country; not like St. Lucia. Planes, tanks, missiles, artillery, oh, and maybe a few shiploads of guns for your infantry, you might mention it to Berger over a cocktail at some embassy party in Paris."

  "You serious?"

  "I am. He could make it happen — not just that, but he'd get some major power like the U.S., or Russia, or somebody to finance it all. And train your troops, in the bargain."

  "That explains it," Lucas said.

  "Explains what?"

  "Why the Deputy Commissioner's asking questions."

  "He is?"

  "Or somebody higher up."

  "Shit, Lucas. You don't have a clue do you? About what you and that Jordan woman got us into, I mean."

  "I don't — "

  "You'd better hope they're satisfied with the toll they've taken so far. Best for us if we just stay quiet."

  "You think they — "

  "I think it's in our best interest to leave the three killings alone. Asking too many questions might put you or me in their sights. Maybe Berger will be satisfied that the three men who took his daughter have been handled, whoever did it. You following me?"

  "I think so. You think Berger might use Spanish-speaking people?"

  "What?"

  Lucas told him about the Cuban woman.

  "She could well be working for him."

  "I had no idea — "

  "Yeah." Barron cut him off. "If I'd known who you had in custody, I wouldn't have touched her for anything you could offer. Jordan just said she was a tourist. You people have messed up, mon. Don't call me again."

  Lucas put the cellphone down on the passenger seat and swallowed hard. He shook his head, wondering what was going on. He jumped when the phone rang.

  Glancing at the caller i.d. as he picked it up, he touched the "accept" icon and raised the phone to his ear. "Yeah, Mary?"

  "The two guards are in the hospital."

  "What two guards?" Lucas asked, stalling. He was afraid he knew the answer.

  "The ones who worked Berger over and handed her off to ... um ... "

  "Don't say any more, Mary. I need an early dinner. How about you meet me at the usual place."

  "Okay, but — "

  "Not on the phone, okay? See you in about 30 minutes?"

  "Yeah, okay, mon."

  Chapter 18

  "Guests?" Liz asked, "On Vengeance?" She was puzzled by Phillip's comment. She and Marie were sitting in Kayak Spirit's main saloon with an encrypted satellite phone on the table between them.

  "Yes." Phillip's voice sounded tinny, coming from the speaker. "The security camera that Clarence's guys installed picked them up. They came aboard just after sunset. Acted like they'd done this before — swam out, climbed over the rail. No sound when they opened the companionway doors; they picked the lock, I'm guessing."

  "How long were they aboard?"

  "They're still there."

  "Are the guys going to snatch them?" Marie asked. "Interrogate them?"

  "Not unless that's what you two want. We think it's better to just monitor them for now. We'll probably learn more from them that way."

  "What are they doing?" Liz asked.

  "They searched the boat, first thing. They knew no one was aboard; they must have had Vengeance under surveillance for a while. They did a quick, thorough job, and put everything back like they found it. Then they called your friend Lanjwani. They're speaking French with some Arabic phrases thrown in. They look and sound like they're from the Middle East."

  "Was the call monitored?" Marie asked.

  "No. They were on an encrypted satellite phone, apparently; there was no activity on Lanjwani's cellphone. We only got their side of the conversation, but they're looking for Liz, and for the passports. Samir Gorshani, too, although from the conversation, it sounds like they didn't expect to find him — just looking for his stuff."

  "And they're still aboard?" Liz asked, sounding puzzled.

  "From what the audio feed picked up, they've been ordered to wait for Liz to return. They're joking, arguing about which one is going to 'marry' her first. But the one who seems to be in charge keeps reminding the other one that they aren't supposed to do anything but hold her until 'the Sheik' gives his okay."

  "The Sheik?" Marie asked.

  "Your guess is as good as mine," Phillip said, "but Clarence is working on it. What's new on your end?"

  "Nothing," Liz said. "I'm stir crazy — ready to strike."

  "Strike where? Who?" Phillip asked.

  "That's the problem," Liz said. "I'd like to grab Lanjwani and beat it out of him."

  "Beat what out of him?" Phillip asked.

  "Dani's location."

  "We don't even know if he knows," Marie said.

  "That's why I'm sitting here," Liz said, "but he has to be connected to the killing of that beach bum, and somebody set Dani up for that. Who else could it be?"

  A few moments passed in silence, broken by Phillip's question. "Any more word on that eyewitness?"

  "Derek Mitchum," Liz said. "I'd forgotten about that."

  "About what?" Marie asked.

  "I was planning to go down to Marigot and see if anybody had heard from him, but then Gorshani came along and I got distracted."

  "I don't think that's a good idea, at this point," Phillip said. "You don't want to call attention to your presence in St. Lucia; right now the bad guys think you're here in Martinique."

  "I will do this," Marie said.

  "Tomorrow?" Liz asked.

  "I am going now," Marie said. "I will take the taxi; I can be there in time for the evening meal, when everyone will be around. It will take no more than an hour, and then we can have dinner in the marina restaurant." She stood up. "You are finished, Phillip?"

  "For now. I'll call if anything happens."

  ****

  Lucas stood as Mary Jordan approached his table at one of the restaurants overlooking the cruise ship docks on the Castries waterfront. Always crowded during the middle of the day when the cruise ship passengers were ashore, the restaurants weren't busy in the late afternoon.

  "What's happening? Why the sudden secrecy?" Jordan asked him, after they had ordered.

  Lucas told her what he had learned about Berger's family connections from Theodore Barron.

  Jordan frowned as she listened. "Barron's scared of this Berger man?" The pitch of her voice reflected her surprise.

  Lucas nodded.

  "He's not scared of the devil himself," Jordan said, shaking her head. "This man must be bad news."

  "He's connected at the highest levels of government, from what Barron said. He's a businessman, not a thug. But that explains why the Deputy Commissioner's asking questions. Barron doesn't want that kind of attention; I don't think he's physically scared of Berger."

  "You think Berger had Barron's men killed?"

  Lucas shook his head. "No, I think Selwyn Graves did that. Of course, he wouldn't have done it unless Barron ordered it. My question is why he would have his own men killed."

  "To cover his tracks?" Mary asked. "Maybe to try to make amends to Berger's father?"

  "Possibly. I think he may
have someone looking for her on his own."

  "Who? Her father?"

  "Yeah. You know that Cuban woman who stole your purse?"

  "Right. You think she works for Berger?" Jordan pursed her lips as she waited for his answer.

  "Maybe. She questioned Mitchum's wife this morning. Or at least, a woman who matched her description did."

  "Who's Mitchum?"

  "The eyewitness who said he saw Danielle Berger stab Herbie Watson."

  "What did she want with his wife?"

  "She's looking for Mitchum."

  "That's why I called you earlier, by the way."

  "What? About her looking for Mitchum?" Lucas squinted at Jordan across the table, shaking his head in confusion.

  "No. I told you about Hyacinth and Amaryllis being in the hospital."

  Lucas nodded, still confused.

  "Hyacinth was conscious for long enough to tell them a Cuban woman did it."

  "Damn," Lucas said, under his breath.

  "What?" Jordan asked.

  He shook his head. "She must be working for Berger. Unless ... "

  "Unless what?"

  "I guess she could be working for Barron," Lucas said. "The word is he's got connections in Venezuela."

  "But she's Cuban."

  "Come on, Mary. We don't know that. Everybody says that about anybody that looks Hispanic and has an accent."

  "Yeah, okay. But why would Berger or Barron either one have her looking for Mitchum? Or killing Barron's muscle?"

  "Or beating up your guards, for that matter?" Lucas asked.

  They had eaten in silence for a few minutes, both thinking about the situation. Neither noticed the black-haired, dark-skinned woman in the shadowy corner who was studying them while she pretended to read a tourist magazine.

  "There's something else going on here," Lucas said, finishing a mouthful of peas and rice. "I don't know what it is, but none of this makes sense. We're missing something."

  "Well, let me know when you figure it out," Jordan said. "I'm going to stop at the hospital on my way home and see if Hyacinth's awake. Maybe she picked up something from the woman who attacked them."

  "How serious are their injuries?" Lucas asked.

  "Thanks for reminding me," Jordan said. "I told the nurse I'd report this to you. I was worried about too much publicity if she called it in."