Bluewater Stalker: The Sixth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 6)

by Charles Dougherty

  "Good luck. I'll call if we turn up anything else; the blood screens should be done this afternoon."

  Roberts thanked him and hung up the phone. The body had been found while they were questioning the people aboard Vengeance; he hadn't yet made it back to his office when he got the first call about it.

  As he drove out to Rodney Bay, he had to wonder if Melodie Simmons's death was related to the others. The yacht Vengeance was anchored only a few hundred yards from where she was found, and everything they knew so far about Melodie Simmons made her look like another random victim. She was single, popular with everyone who knew her, at least according to her mother, and had no police record. He parked his car and walked through the condo complex to the bar and grill, an open-air place that looked out over the marina on one side and Rodney Bay on the other. As he walked into the bar, empty except for the attractive, heavy-set woman polishing glasses, he caught a glimpse of Vengeance in the near distance.

  "Good afternoon," the woman greeted him in a rich voice, a friendly smile splitting her handsome, round face. "What can I get you?"

  Roberts pulled out his badge and warrant card, opening the leather wallet on the bar where she could study them as he settled onto a stool and put his feet on the polished brass rail. "Good afternoon. I'm Chief Inspector Roberts. I was hoping to talk with someone about Melodie Simmons."

  "Melodie's not here right now; she works nights. How 'bout a Ting?" The woman held up a green bottle of the carbonated grapefruit juice, beaded with moisture. "Ice cold," she added.

  He nodded, and she scooped a glass through the ice bin and set it on a coaster in front of him with a practiced, efficient motion. She reached under the edge of the bar with the bottle in her other hand. He heard the pop as she levered the top from the soft drink. He cupped his hands around the glass as she poured half the bottle into it. She set the bottle down by his glass and dragged a stool up opposite him, resting a hip on it.

  "What you want with Melodie? I know that gal not in trouble."

  "Did she work last night?"

  "No. She had las' night off. Every six days, we work a double shift. I was here las' night. Why you ask?"

  "Did you see her yesterday at all?" he asked, ignoring her question, not wanting to upset her with the news just yet.

  "Mm-hmm. She was by here in the afternoon to pick up her paycheck, and she got to talking wit' a man, a gues' here at the place. He was a nice fella. Nice lookin' too. She lef' with him, 'bout three, maybe four o'clock." The big woman gave Roberts a sly smile and a wink. She chuckled.

  "Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"

  "Surely I would. He lef' a nice tip on the tab, but I'd recognize him anyhow. I may be a ol' married lady, but I still like to look."

  "You still have the tab he signed?"

  "No, it's in Accounts now. Took it over this mornin'. Why?"

  "I was wanting his name."

  "His name? Bill Fitzgerald. He introduce himse'f to us when he start talkin' wit' us."

  ****

  Chief Inspector Roberts was lost in thought as he drove back to his office. His first impulse was to arrest Fitzgerald, but he didn't want to be hasty. There were too many pieces that didn't quite fit together on the other murders. Both Fitzgerald and his wife were unaccounted for when the killing in Grenada happened. It was possible they had both been involved somehow in that one, but the two women who ran Vengeance were with them at the time of the other two killings. At the same time, the coincidence factor was high. There were now four deaths that were linked to the presence of the yacht. His phone rang, distracting him.

  Glancing at the caller i.d. screen, he saw it was his boss, the Deputy Commissioner. He thumbed the green button and lifted the phone to his ear. "Roberts," he snapped, his voice betraying his frustration.

  "Roberts?"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Did you board a yacht called Vengeance this morning and question the people aboard?"

  "Yes, I …"

  "And you took their passports and placed the vessel under arrest?"

  "Yes, sir, I …"

  "What possessed you to do such a thing, Roberts?"

  "The men from Grenada and Saint Vin …"

  "Do you know who that woman is?"

  "Which woman?" Roberts was grinding his teeth now.

  "Danielle Marie Berger, the captain; she owns the yacht."

  "Yes, sir. I looked over the paperwork."

  "Do you have even a shred of evidence she was involved in any crime?"

  "No, sir. Her charter guests …"

  "She is off limits. You are not to trouble her further. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "In the morning, you will return their passports and apologize to Ms. Berger for this foolishness."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Now, what did the men from Grenada and St. Vincent learn about these murders they dragged us into?"

  Roberts pulled off onto the shoulder of the road and took a deep breath. He ran through the information from the morning's questioning of the people aboard Vengeance.

  "What did I tell you, Roberts?"

  "Sir, I …"

  "It's clear that our colleagues in Grenada and St. Vincent got it wrong, and we're the ones who are embarrassed by their ineptitude."

  Roberts held his tongue.

  "Are you still there, Roberts?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Do you have anything to say to me that I can pass up the line?"

  "Yes, sir, as a matter of fact." Roberts realized the Deputy Commissioner had not yet heard about the body on the beach. He considered how to play this to his advantage.

  "Well, what is it, man? I don't have all day."

  "Sorry, sir. The body of a young woman was found on the beach this morning, just a few hundred yards from where Vengeance is anchored."

  "Damn! Was it a tourist?"

  "No, sir. It was a local woman." Roberts heard a sigh over the phone and knew his boss was relieved, the damned politician.

  "Any idea what happened to her? Drugs?"

  "No, sir. We don't think so; the blood tests aren't back yet, but there was no sign of drugs and she hadn't been sexually assaulted."

  "How did she die, then?"

  "Her neck was broken. The coroner said from the marks on her jaw, somebody who knew what they were doing probably grasped her chin and the back of her head and just snapped her neck."

  "Must have been a man; a woman wouldn't have that strength," The Deputy Commissioner said.

  Roberts didn't bother to explain that it was more a matter of skill than muscle. He waited, forcing his boss to ask for more.

  "Any leads?"

  "One that I'm following at the moment, sir."

  "Well, damn it, man, tell me! What's this lead?"

  "She was last seen alive leaving the bar at the new timeshare condos with Bill Fitzgerald."

  "Who?"

  "Bill Fitzgerald. He's the one that the …"

  "The American the men from Grenada and St. Vincent questioned this morning?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "So is this man, Fitzgerald, staying at the condos or on that yacht? Have you …"

  "Sir, the office at the resort is closed until morning. Fitzgerald can't leave the island, because we have his passport. I have a witness who saw him leave the bar with the victim. It's under control."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'll get a warrant to search his unit at the condo and have a team execute it first thing in the morning. We'll subpoena the time-share resort's guest records as well, and caution Fitzgerald. Once the bartender positively identifies him, we'll charge him."

  "Very well, but keep me informed, and be careful of the Berger woman. You still need to apologize to her."

  "Yes, sir. I don't …" he stopped, at a momentary loss.

  "What is it, Roberts?"

  "Who is Ms. Berger connected to?"

  "I don't want to know, and you certainly don't need to. Just handle her
with care. Now get your warrant and keep me informed. I have to call my counterparts in Grenada and St. Vincent. Good-bye."

  "Good-bye," Roberts murmured as he put the phone on the seat beside him and signaled to enter the traffic.

  Chapter 15

  Liz had just poured a second round of coffee for the four of them as they lingered at the dining table in the main saloon when they heard the rumble of the patrol boat approaching. Before they could react, they felt a light bump as the boat nudged Vengeance. There was the deafening blast of a siren followed by a man's voice over a loud-hailer blaring, "Ahoy, Vengeance, police boarding. Everyone on deck immediately, hands in the air."

  Dani led the way up into the cockpit with Liz at her heels; the Fitzgeralds were seconds behind them. As soon as they were assembled on deck, Chief Inspector Roberts and two armed, uniformed policemen came aboard.

  "William Fitzgerald, you are under arrest for the murder of Melodie Simmons. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something upon which you later rely in court. Anything you do say will be taken down and may be given in evidence," Roberts said.

  The two policemen approached Bill, one with a pistol trained on him. The second man patted him down thoroughly and then looked at Roberts.

  "Cuff him," Roberts ordered.

  The unarmed man stepped behind Bill and snapped a manacle around his right wrist. In one smooth motion, he pulled Bill's arms behind him and fastened the other cuff around his left wrist. The other policeman holstered his weapon, and the two of them frog-marched Bill to the rail and bundled him aboard the patrol boat.

  Liz caught Jane as her knees buckled and eased her to the cockpit seat, settling beside her and wrapping her in a hug.

  Roberts opened a portfolio he had held at his side and took out a sheaf of papers. "Ms. Berger, your passports and the ship's release."

  Dani glared at him as she took the papers.

  "I apologize for the inconvenience. The three of you are free to go as you wish, although I ask that if you leave St. Lucia, please let me know where we can reach you if we have questions. Also, I need your signature on this receipt to show that I returned your papers and passports."

  Dani methodically paged through the papers, pointedly ignoring the receipt in his outstretched hand. When she was satisfied all was in order, she went below and put the papers on the chart table. She returned to the cockpit and reached for the receipt. She took her time again, reading it carefully. Looking up at Roberts, she said, "I'll sign this when you return with a copy for me that has your signature as well. I don't sign anything unless I get a duplicate. Sorry, but that's ship's policy." She handed the unsigned receipt to Roberts, who nodded glumly and put it back in his portfolio. As Roberts turned away, she said, "Chief Inspector?"

  He turned back toward her. "Yes, ma'am?"

  "The U.S. Embassy in Barbados has been notified that you unlawfully confiscated three U.S. passports yesterday. Ms. Chirac has also reported her Belgian passport as wrongfully taken from her. I won't be notifying them otherwise until I have that receipt in hand."

  "Yes, ma'am. I understand." He swallowed hard and stepped aboard the launch. It roared away, blue lights flashing.

  "What do we do now?" Jane sobbed.

  "We get in touch with that lawyer. I'll call Phillip right now."

  ****

  Chief Inspector Roberts sat at his desk wondering what else could go wrong today. When they had arrived at the police barracks in Castries after Fitzgerald's arrest, they had been met by the most highly regarded attorney in St. Lucia, who politely informed Roberts that he would be representing Mr. Fitzgerald and demanded a private meeting with his client as soon as possible.

  As soon as Roberts got in the door, he had been summoned to the Deputy Commissioner's office to hear that the U.S. Embassy had been in touch with the Minister of External Affairs expressing concern about the confiscation of U.S. passports, although the Deputy Commissioner didn't know the exact nature of the communication. The worst event of the day so far, though, had occurred when Ginnie Sylvester, the bartender from the condo resort, had not only failed to identify Bill Fitzgerald as the man who had left the bar with Melodie Simmons. She had been adamant in asserting that Fitzgerald in no way resembled the man.

  And then the detective constables who had been dispatched to the condo resort to retrieve their records and search Fitzgerald's room had learned there was no Fitzgerald registered. The bar tab had been signed illegibly, and was charged to a now-vacant room rented by someone named Donald Galligan. Galligan had booked the accommodations through a travel agency in Gros Îlet yesterday morning and paid cash. The desk clerk reported that he had shown a U.S. passport, but she had not made a copy because their machine was out of toner. The search of the room had, needless to say, been fruitless.

  Roberts was stunned at how quickly things had spun out of control. When he woke up this morning, he had been confident he would close the Melodie Simmons case today. Now, he wondered if he would still have a job when he came back from lunch. As he was contemplating where he would eat, his phone rang.

  He didn't recognize the number; when he answered, it was the lawyer, calling to remind him he still owed the Berger woman a duplicate receipt for the return of the passports and advising that Fitzgerald was considering whether to file a civil complaint against him. The lawyer offered to handle the matter of the receipt if Roberts wished to leave the paperwork with his clerk at his office near the police barracks. As soon as Roberts hung up the phone, he made a copy of the receipt, signed both the original and the duplicate, and summoned a uniformed officer to deliver the papers to the lawyer's office.

  He looked at the clock when the officer left. It was 2 p.m., and he had no appetite for lunch. He decided to spend his time making notes for his 3 p.m. meeting with the Deputy Commissioner to discuss his plans for solving the murder of Melodie Simmons.

  ****

  David Cardile had just finished lunch at the little bar overlooking Admiralty Bay in Bequia. Lunch at Leon's had become part of his routine. He had learned to appreciate the warm, cozy flavor of the cook's chicken rotis — the West Indian version of tacos, he had discovered a few days ago, to his great pleasure.

  "You like another beer?" Leon asked as he picked up the plate.

  "No thanks, Leon. I have to try to write this afternoon."

  Leon nodded. "How was the trip yesterday?"

  "Great. Just wanted a little break -- you know, a day off."

  Leon nodded again. "You hear the news about your frien'?"

  David shook his head. "No. Who's that?"

  "The people on the yacht with Dani and Liz. You saw him here a few days ago."

  "Oh, the Fitzgeralds. No. What news?"

  "Everywhere the yacht stop, someone get killed. They arres' the mon in St. Lucia."

  "What man?"

  "The mon, Fitzgeral', on Vengeance."

  "I can't believe that. Bill wouldn't kill anybody. Where'd you hear that?"

  "My wife's cousin's husban'. He work for the p'lice over St. Vincent."

  "No, I had no idea, Leon. Thanks. I guess I should try to get in touch with his wife and see if I can help somehow. This has to be some kind of mistake."

  "Mebbe so, David. I don' know, but the word is he break a girl's neck an' leave her on the beach. Her frien', she see them go off together, him and her. P'lice in St. Lucia got he locked up one time."

  ****

  "We're cleared to leave for Marin in the morning," Dani said, coming aboard Vengeance. She bent to tie the dinghy painter, putting her folder of papers on the deck beside the cleat.

  "Thank God," Bill said. "I can't get out of here soon enough."

  "I understand how you feel, Bill, but this could have happened anywhere."

  "Yeah, I know, but it's too fresh in my mind right now for me to enjoy being here."

  "Did you get your receipt?" Jane asked, picking up the folder.

  Dan
i looked puzzled. Liz said, "You wanted Roberts to …"

  "Oh," Dani grinned. "He just pissed me off. I was making trouble for him. I don't need that receipt. He might, if he gets heat about the passports, which I hope he does. Jerk."

  "He was just doing his job," Liz said.

  "Yes, but not very well, and he was enjoying it too much to suit me. Anyway, the lawyer said he'd take care of it."

  "How about sundowners in the cockpit?" Liz asked. "The horizon's clear; just right for a green flash."

  "Have I got time for a quick dip over the side and a shower?" Bill asked.

  "Sure. Go for it."

  He dove in, surfacing seconds later a few yards from the boat. "Feels better. I never actually got locked up, but just being that close to jail made me feel dirty. The whole police barracks smelled like a public restroom." He paddled back to the boarding ladder and climbed aboard. Jane handed him a towel and he headed below for the shower.

  "You really think Phillip's right?" Jane asked, after he was out of earshot.

  "You mean about somebody setting Bill up?" Dani asked.

  Jane nodded.

  "It's the best explanation for the facts we've got," Dani said.

  Once the police had released Bill, the lawyer had driven him to the marina in Rodney Bay, where Dani and Jane had picked him up in the dinghy. Back aboard Vengeance, they had set up a conference call with Phillip and the lawyer.

  The lawyer had given them a quick summary of what had happened, as each of the others only had a partial understanding. Phillip had been the first to suggest that someone was putting Bill in an ever smaller frame. "There's no reason to think there's not going to be another murder," he had said, "but the real question is how he knows where you're going next."

  "The blog," Jane had said, explaining for Phillip's benefit, and the lawyer's.

  "If it were me," the lawyer said, "I'd deviate from that itinerary right now. Who's to say this killer won't decide one of you is the next target?"

  "Come to Martinique; Sandrine and I would love to see you all, and Marin will be a good place to sort this out," Phillip suggested. "Marin wasn't on your blog, was it?"