by Junie Coffey
“Old family recipe,” said Joe. “Got it off the Internet.” He laughed loud and hard. “No, I grow the peppers myself. That’s the secret,” he said.
“Thanks, Joe. See you soon,” said Ted. They walked back to the Jeep. They drove around the bend, and Ted pulled the Jeep over to the side of the road again.
“I’m going to let you in on a local secret,” he said. He grabbed a couple of towels off the backseat and led the way up a narrow, sandy path between the bushes on the side of the road. If she hadn’t been with Ted, Nina would not have noticed it. The path climbed up and over a low rise and emerged on a pristine curve of powder-soft white-sand beach. A wild fringe of cocoplum bushes and graceful palms ensured complete privacy. Nina could see waves crashing against a reef at the mouth of the cove. The waves lapped the white-sand beach only gently.
“On a windy day, the water here is still as calm as a swimming pool,” said Ted, dropping the towels onto the sand. “Care for a swim?” The jewel-colored water looked very inviting.
“You bet,” said Nina. She had her bikini on under her clothes, so she kicked off her flip-flops, unbuttoned her shorts, and let them fall, then pulled off her T-shirt and dropped it on top of the towels, trying not to feel self-conscious about her nearly naked body. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ted start to unbutton his shirt. She tiptoed down to the water’s edge and walked into the surf. After hours in the sun, the water felt delicious on her skin. When the water was waist deep, she dove under, then floated on her back facing the beach, her hair streaming out like seaweed. Ted was standing waist deep in the water in front of her, hair plastered to his head, water droplets in his eyelashes, smiling. His glistening torso was bronzed and well muscled. She tried not to notice.
“That hits the spot, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“Magical,” said Nina. They swam for a while, then lay side by side on the towels on the sand with their hands clasped behind their heads, looking at the cloudless sky and not talking. Nina flipped over onto her stomach, sighed, and closed her eyes. She must have fallen asleep. When she woke, Ted was sitting up beside her with his shirt on. Her T-shirt was draped across her back.
“I thought you might burn, and I didn’t want to wake you. We better get going. It’ll be dark by the time we get back to town,” he said.
The sun was sinking into the sea as they drove back into Coconut Cove. She wasn’t yet accustomed to how quickly the day transformed into night in the tropics, a few spectacular minutes of psychedelic color separating sunlight from darkness.
“Feel like stopping in at The Redoubt for a beer before heading home?” he asked as they entered town.
“Sounds like the perfect end to a perfect day,” said Nina. It was Sunday, and the main street was virtually devoid of cars and carts. Ted eased the Jeep and boat to the side of the road in front of the bar. As they pushed open the heavy wooden door that faced the street, the mellow voice of Jimmy Buffett greeted them from the jukebox. Nina was willing to bet that every pale, overworked northerner who booked a holiday to Pineapple Cay popped a quarter in the jukebox to play it, then ordered a margarita. She’d have to ask Veronica sometime how many times a day she heard it.
The bar and restaurant were relatively quiet. Three or four tables of vacationers who didn’t have to get up for school or work the next day were enjoying a meal out in paradise. The candles glowed on the tables, casting golden light on the wood-paneled walls. Through the glass doors overlooking the water, Nina saw a bonfire on the beach, the flames leaping up into the now-dark sky as someone threw on a piece of driftwood. She could make out the silhouettes of a circle of people sitting in the sand around it, one of them strumming a guitar. Inside, the backlit bar was a cozy oasis where another half dozen people were gathered.
Veronica was behind the bar drying glasses with a white towel, and Nina spotted Pansy and Danish seated on stools in front of her. She and Ted made their way over. As they approached, all three turned to look at them and said hi. Nina could see both Danish and Pansy’s eyes flit from her to Ted and back, but if they were wondering what was up, they didn’t say anything. Veronica didn’t seem to notice anything remarkable and greeted them warmly, saying, “Good evening! You’re just in time!”
“Hi, Nina and Ted,” said Pansy. “You just missed Andrew and the kids, Nina. We thought we’d treat ourselves to Sunday dinner out. I’m just finishing my coffee. I wanted to show Veronica the new earrings I made, and then I’ve got to head out.”
Pansy unfurled a roll of flannel on the bar. Hooked to the fabric were a half dozen pairs of earrings made from silver wire wrapped around pieces of sea glass of various sizes and colors. Nina and Veronica bent over to look at them.
“I collect the sea glass myself and make them at home,” said Pansy, looking at Nina. “I’ve got a little boutique with jewelry and other things attached to the real estate office. I give workshops for tourists, and once a year I run one for the kids at the school. Maybe you can go with me sometime looking for glass, and I can show you how to make them.”
“That would be fun,” said Nina. “They’re beautiful!”
“Very nice,” said Veronica.
“I thought these might be your style, Veronica,” said Pansy, holding up a long, dangling pair made from large pieces of sand-rubbed, cobalt-blue glass with tendrils of silver wire coiled around and cascading down from the glass.
“Cobalt glass is quite rare to find. It is mostly green and white,” Pansy said to Nina.
“They’re gorgeous, Pansy,” said Veronica, holding them up to her ears and looking in a pocket mirror.
“I made them for you, Veronica. Happy birthday,” said Pansy.
“Why, thank you, girl,” said Veronica. She leaned across the bar to give Pansy a hug. “You’re sweet.”
“Happy birthday, boss!” said Danish. “Many happy returns!”
“Happy birthday, Veronica,” said Ted. He leaned across the bar to kiss her on the cheek.
“It’s tomorrow,” said Veronica with a smile, “but thank you very much. My son is coming down from the main island, and we’re going to have a little family reunion at the farm tomorrow night.”
“These are for you, Nina,” said Pansy, slipping a pair of earrings made with blue-green glass into Nina’s palm and folding her fingers over them. “A welcome present.”
Nina was touched. Three days ago, all these people were strangers to her. Now it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be with them in a cozy bar on a quiet Sunday night.
“Thank you, Pansy. You’re so thoughtful,” she said.
There was a slow flurry of activity while bottles of beer, more coffee for Pansy, and a margarita for Nina were distributed.
Ted’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then said, “A client. Excuse me.”
He stood and headed outside onto the deck. Nina watched him lean against the railing and look out at the dark water as he spoke to some obsessed fisherman a thousand miles away. Veronica moved down the bar to serve a couple of customers. Danish watched Nina intently.
“I’ve got to run to the loo. Be right back,” said Pansy.
Danish waited until she was out of earshot, then leaned in close to Nina. “Busted. You were checking out his ass! I saw you. You like Ted! Damn, I’m right, aren’t I? That’s funny, because I could have sworn you had a thing for Roker, like half the other women on this island. Oh, Nina! The plot thickens! Just a warning. Old Ted has always been kind of a lone wolf. I mean, he enjoys the company of the ladies, but he generally doesn’t let them on the premises long enough to make a lasting impression. That’s Fortress Matthews up there.” He gestured up the beach to the point.
“Listen, Danish,” Nina hissed, “I don’t have a thing for anybody. Didn’t I mention? I’m technically still married.”
“You didn’t mention it. But I already knew that. Everybody does. You bought a house off the Internet in the middle of the night, left the husband in New York, and moved down here licket
y-split. Carrie told me.”
“Who’s Carrie?!”
“She owns the beauty salon on Seagarden Street,” said Danish. “She heard it from her cousin Bernadette who works at the bank. Bernadette saw the paperwork Pansy brought in, with the e-mails from [email protected] sent at two o’clock in the morning. Pansy tore a strip off her when she got wind that Bernadette was talking about your business, but really, no one cares what time you bought your house.” He took a pull of his beer and watched Nina in silence for a moment, then continued in a slightly gentler tone.
“Really. A lot of people around here ended up on Pineapple Cay at the end of some wild and crazy ride. Some of them have some pretty hideous skeletons in the closet. Your broken marriage slash Internet shopping spree doesn’t even make the list of finalists for the most far-out story.”
“Maybe not, but the whole point was to turn the page and start fresh,” Nina said as Pansy returned from the washroom.
“Oh, Nina. I apologize for the lack of discretion on the part of some people around here,” Pansy said, giving Danish a hard look. “We specialize in fresh starts on Pineapple Cay. Live and let live. You know Derek and Cecilia Rathbone, that nice older couple with the pottery studio on Banyan Lane? Derek was heir to a huge crumpet fortune or something. He and Cecilia met at Woodstock in 1968. He was supposed to go back to England and run the family crumpet factory, but instead they decided possessions were chains and moved to a commune in Vermont. He gave away most of his money, and when the commune went feral, they moved down here and bought that old farm for three thousand dollars. I can tell you, it’s worth considerably more than that now. Now they make clay pots and serve tea and crumpets to tourists on their front porch.”
“That generation got a pretty sweet deal,” said Danish. “They spent all their time smoking weed, philosophizing, and sleeping with one another’s girlfriends, and they still ended up millionaires in their golden years, living on a tropical island. Do you want to know how I landed here?” he asked.
“Yes, I do,” said Nina. She felt Ted slide back into the seat beside her as Veronica rejoined them, leaning forward with her elbows resting on the polished wood.
“Well, I had just graduated from the Boulder College of the Healing Arts, and I got a job as a yoga instructor for the Supersun Cruise Line, now defunct. I was on my first trip down through the islands—Antigua, Barbados, Martinique, Grenada. Yoga classes at seven in the morning and five in the afternoon, exploring the islands all day, and being charming for the old dolls at dinner. I was having a blast. We were on our way back up to Fort Lauderdale when my supervisor knocked on the door of my cabin one night. Unfortunately, I was entertaining the grown-up granddaughter of one of our passengers at the time. Fraternizing with the guests was not allowed, so I was canned immediately. I was put off the ship the next morning in Nassau. Best thing that ever happened to me. I hung around town for a few days, soaking up the sun and showing up every evening for the harbormaster’s sundown cocktail party at the marina, where they serve free drinks and conch fritters. I got to talking to some people there who told me that Michel was looking to start offering yoga classes at the Plantation Inn on Pineapple Cay. I bummed a ride down here on that rusted tub of a mail boat. I could probably have swum here faster. Anyway, I took the gig for room and board, and Veronica here gave me a few shifts at The Redoubt. When Mr. Jones retired last year, I got the mail route. The rest is history.”
“Wow,” said Nina. Ted took a long draught of his beer.
“I’d say Veronica wins hands down any contest for the most spectacular arrival on Pineapple Cay,” said Pansy. “Tell Nina the story, Veronica. It’s amazing.”
Veronica took a sip of her mineral water and a deep breath. “Well. My grandmother always said that her great-grandmother on her father’s side was a captive onboard a slaving ship on its way to a plantation somewhere in the Caribbean when it was seized by the British off Pineapple Cay. It was still legal to own slaves in the islands until 1834, but the British outlawed the transatlantic trade in slaves from Africa in 1807. So, the ship was seized. But instead of taking the captives back home to Africa, the British unloaded them on Pineapple Cay and left them here to fend for themselves. I don’t know if any of them ever made it back home. My great-great-great-grandmother spent the rest of her life here. My family has fished and farmed out of Smooth Harbour down island for as long as anyone can remember.
“On the day of the night I was born, fifty-five years ago tomorrow, my parents had taken the boat out to fish lobster off the Diamond Cays. My mother was about eight and a half months pregnant, but she was young and strong. She baited the traps for my father after he hauled them in and emptied the catch. The sky darkened ominously midafternoon, and they quickly stowed their gear and headed for home. Of course, there was no Weather Channel in those days. They hadn’t been expecting a storm. It hit with its full force as they made for Smooth Harbour in the little wooden boat. My mother went into labor, and she delivered me herself in the rain on the floor of the rocking boat while my father tried desperately to steer us into shore. She cut the umbilical cord with a gutting knife and held me against her bare chest under her sweater for two hours.”
Veronica took another drink of her water. The others waited in silence for her to continue.
“Two hundred years ago, wreckers used to go down to the shore at night and wave a lantern to lure a ship onto the rocks so that they could steal its cargo when the boat ran aground or broke apart. Rum, silver candlesticks, timber, whatever. The sailors would think they were seeing a lighthouse on a point and head directly for the rocks.
“On the night I was born, my parents’ friends and neighbors ran up and down the beach waving their lanterns to guide my father into the harbor. When the little boat was close enough, the men waded out into the sea and threw ropes to him until he could grab hold of one. Then they pulled the boat up on the sand. So, I arrived on Pineapple Cay when I was two hours old, and the whole village turned out to meet me.”
Veronica threw her head back and laughed, then leaned closer to Nina and looked her directly in the eye.
“Let us drink to new beginnings,” she said. She reached under the bar and pulled out five glasses and a bottle of rum. Nina raised her glass with the others and downed the burning gold elixir in one go.
“Has anyone heard anything about Tiffany Bassett?” asked Pansy.
“Blue was in here for a few minutes midafternoon,” said Veronica. “He said he’d been with Barry Bassett in the station all morning going over events, trying to come up with a lead. His officers were out at the Savages’ gathering evidence. He had a few bites of a sandwich, then headed out to The Enclave to supervise a door-to-door search late this afternoon. He didn’t say, but I think they’re headed down into the cays tomorrow looking for her. Late this afternoon, a Defence Force boat tied up at the police wharf. They’re usually stationed at the national park headquarters on Turtle Cay.”
They were all silent for a long moment.
“Well, I’d better get back to the lodge, say hello to the new bunch, and get ready for tomorrow,” said Ted. “Nina, are you ready to call it a night?”
“Sure, thanks,” she replied. They said their good-byes and went out into the warm night. The sky was studded with stars again.
“Well, I think I can understand why you love bonefishing,” she said on the short drive to her cottage. “I guess I never really thought about the islands as wilderness, but they’re spectacular. Thank you for a wonderful day.”
“My pleasure,” he replied with a smile. “Maybe another day, we can take a boat down through the Diamond Cays National Park. No fishing, but fantastic snorkeling. There’s a colony of giant rock iguanas on Stick Cay that are worth a trip. I mean, two or three feet long.”
He walked her to her gate and said good night. As he had the night before, he waited while she let herself in, only getting back into the car and driving away when she waved good-bye through the window in t
he door.
Nina had a long, hot shower and curled up on the sofa with a cup of soup and her mystery novel. She could hear the steady, gentle roll and hiss of the waves on the beach.
By the tail end of the day, when most of Pineapple Cay was tucked up in bed, Tiffany Bassett still had not been found.
6
Nina spent the morning of her fifth day on Pineapple Cay prying off, scraping, and sanding four pairs of shutters. Then she took a refreshing swim in the ocean. Chips of paint floated off her skin as she lay in the water, soaking the sweat from her hair and feeling the sun on her face.
Shortly before noon, she dressed for yoga and headed over to the Plantation Inn for Danish’s class. The ladies on the platform were buzzing with the news of Tiffany Bassett’s abduction.
“I heard they were having money problems,” said a reed-thin woman in black leggings. “Barry’s been having trouble attracting backers for his big condo project. He asked Simon and me to buy in, but we said no thank you. It’s too risky an investment until the runway extension is approved. Barry’s capital is tied up in the land, and he’s running out of time.”
“I wonder if he has a big life-insurance policy on Tiffany?” quipped a woman sporting a thick gold necklace, bulging gold hoop earrings, and a gold watch against her deeply tanned flesh. “That and a big fat emerald might solve his cash-flow problem.”
“Well, I heard that Barry’s been making the rounds in Miami to drum up financing. He’s trying to solve his cash-flow problem by making a deal with some questionable characters in Little Moscow. Maybe they aren’t pleased with the results of their investment so far and decided to teach him a lesson,” said another woman in a peacock-blue leotard and white-blonde ponytail.
So, Barry’s feeling the financial pinch, thought Nina. Love, hate, or money. That’s the root of every violent crime, isn’t it? The runway extension. What’s that all about?
