by Diane Rapp
Everyone bought wife catchers, beautiful baskets, and carved snakes that looked too realistic. Kayla photographed the shy Caribs while everyone else shopped. The van still followed when they left the village. This was nerve-wracking! How long before they sprung the trap on Patrick?
As they drove Kayla saw farmers climb like mountain goats up the rugged canyons to harvest bananas. She peered into precipitous chasms and cringed. Genny stopped the van and cut a mango from a tree next to the road with a sharp machete. Deftly slicing the juicy delicacy, she gave each passenger a taste. “So much food grows wild on our island that people say Dominica has the fattest homeless people in the world.”
After Patrick finished eating the mango, he used the toothpick from his special black knife to clean his teeth. Kayla frowned. Patrick once gave her a similar knife as a keepsake. She’d been gullible enough to believe the gift had been special, his cherished black knife. Another lie! She vowed to throw the duplicate knife away when she returned home.
As they parked in sight of Trafalgar Falls, Genny said, “We have two separate waterfalls here, one hot and one cold. Islanders claim one is male and the other is female, but I’ll let you decide which is which.”
Every time Kayla visited Trafalgar Falls she felt awestruck by the dramatic cascades of water, plummeting two hundred feet down jagged rocks into pools.
Genny said, “The weather is dry today, perfect for hiking. After a storm the wild river thunders down this creek flooding these rocks. We’ve had two days of sunshine—what locals consider a drought—so it’s safe to climb today.”
She guided the troop past ticklish spots where enormous boulders had been catapulted down the falls. “We’ll climb to the base of the large fall. Do not deviate from the trail or leave my sight as the rain forest is no place to go missing. We’ll stop when we get to the hot water pools and enjoy a Dominican Jacuzzi.”
Kayla said, “Genny, do you mind if I go ahead to take pictures without the crowd?”
Genny frowned. “Father will skin me if he finds out but since you know the trail, just promise to be careful.”
“I promise.” Kayla hoped to photograph the glowing orange streaks of mineral deposits on the jagged rocks. The mossy-looking deposits resembled abstract paintings, vibrant veins shimmering behind filmy sheets of water. She rapidly shot the scene in solitude without tourists swarming over the rocks until the rest of the party arrived.
Kayla closed her waterproof camera, stripped down to a one-piece swimsuit, and eased her body into a pool of steaming hot water. Emily took off her dress and revealed an orange swimsuit the same color as the rocks. Genny slid into the pool where Kayla lounged.
Kayla squinted, trying to spot anyone downhill who might be following. Waiting for the mutiny grated on her nerves. Why didn’t they get on with it?
“If I’d known Patrick’s intentions, I’d have refused the reservation. Believe me,” Genny said, misinterpreting Kayla’s expression.
Kayla laughed. “Don’t fret. He’s a paying customer and you deserve to earn a living.”
Genny wrinkled her nose. “He’s so, so . . .”
“Nauseating,” Kayla said.
Genny nodded. “I was going to say obvious. How could any woman with brains fall for him?”
Yeah, Kayla thought, I was a brainless fool to fall for him. She let her body float in the gentle current. “Don’t worry about it, Genny. I can ignore him and get my job done. Did Shannon ask for anything special today?”
“No. I didn’t speak with Shannon, but Bryanne reserved a private driver so she could take her aunt out to lunch.”
Kayla nodded. Bryanne and her aunt were involved in the mutiny. Good! It served Patrick right to face his victims. “Where were they going?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to call and find out?”
“No. I’ll find out soon enough.” Kayla climbed out of the hot water and sat on the edge of the pool to cool off. “I thought you’d be in college by now.”
Genny sighed. “I haven’t convinced my father to let me go to England, but I’ve been offered a scholarship to Cambridge. He worries about me living alone. I told him that I can handle myself, but he thinks I’m a little girl.”
Little girl? She’s over six feet tall and swings a machete like a man, Kayla thought as she twisted water out of her wet ponytail. “What do you plan to study?”
Genny sounded excited. “Botany and agriculture. Dominica’s perfect for growing bananas but we must learn to cultivate other cash crops. I also plan to take business classes to help run the tour company.”
Kayla squeezed Genny’s arm. “Keep working on your father. He’ll give in. Do we stop for a rum drink at Tony’s?”
Genny nodded.
Kayla wrapped her arms around her bent knees. “Good. I could use a tasty nutmeg-cinnamon-guava-papaya rum punch.”
“You’ve ferreted out Tony’s secret. He’ll have to add new ingredients.”
“Doesn’t he always?” Kayla grinned.
“Always,” Genny agreed, checking her oversized dive watch. “We’d better go.”
“I was beginning to get some color,” Kayla groaned.
“Yeah, lobster-red looks becoming on you.” Genny’s white teeth flashed against her creamy dark complexion. She stood and shouted, “Come on, everyone. Rum drinks await us down below.”
Tony served a heaping tray of seafood delicacies, a second tray filled with fruit, and a third tray containing fresh-baked bread to each table. His homemade drinks were always a big hit with tourists. Each island produced rum, a residue of sugarcane plantation days, but Tony went one better. Infusing spices and fruit during fermentation, he created his own private brand of rum. Tourists loved the tasty concoctions.
Patrick leaned against a window that opened into an adjoining room. He spoke in earnest tones with Emily while Kayla eavesdropped. “Emily, you should see those poor kids. I was raised at St. Bertram’s and know how hard it is to raise money. The boys presented this special knife to me as an award, a testament to my efforts on their behalf.”
He stroked the golden snake emblem on the black knife. “It means everything to me. If I could only find a benefactor who could spare enough money to buy food and books, I know we’d keep the school open for another year.”
Sure, Kayla thought, he’s telling the same old story to another gullible woman.
A distraught face appeared at the window. Kayla recognized the expression on the woman’s face—the same one in her mirror when she discovered Patrick’s infidelity. Was this woman Bryanne’s Aunt Jillian? Finally, the mutiny plan emerged! Kayla thought, feeling a sense of relief.
The woman shouted, “So! It’s true! You dupe rich old women into donating money for St. Bertram’s School, paying for the same books time and again!”
“Jillian! I can explain . . .” Patrick stammered.
“Can you explain what happened to the check I gave you just one month ago? You claimed my check was large enough to buy food and books for two full years! Well, I’ve talked to the head master at St. Bertram’s and they haven’t received my donation and you haven’t sent money to them in almost a year! How could you deny desperately needed funds to those poor children? I won’t name you trustee over my endowment fund now! Bryanne, come here child. You must get me out of this dreadful place!”
Patrick’s face paled. Emily frowned and averted her gaze as Bryanne escorted her weeping aunt into the lobby.
Kayla’s mouth hung open. Shannon’s mutiny fired a blast that leveled her nemesis.
Patrick muttered, “There’s been a mistake. Excuse me, please. I must straighten out this misunderstanding.” He shoved the knife into his trouser pocket, retrieved something from the inside pocket of his jacket and rushed to the lobby. Kayla followed at a discrete distance.
Bryanne stood outside, trying to summon her driver, while her aunt waited in the lobby. An attractive matron dressed in expensive clothing, Jillian wore her hair in a style too young for her a
ge. Dabbing her eyes with a twisted handkerchief, she tried in vain to curtail a flood of hot tears that streaked her once-perfect makeup.
Patrick approached Jillian. In his most persuasive tone of voice he said, “I’m ever so sorry, Jillian. I planned to come to your hotel this afternoon and explain about the delay in getting your donation to the school. Customs officials in the islands are extremely slow, so I use the Catholic Ministry to make sure the money gets through.”
“A convenient excuse, but why hasn’t the school received money for a year?” she asked in a quavering voice.
“They have, but don’t realize the donations were initiated by me. I never take credit for money my patrons contribute, and many of my donors prefer to remain anonymous. I didn’t know you’d find it necessary to check up on me, but I’ll let you talk with my contact at the Catholic Ministry.”
He patted his pockets and frowned. “It seems I left my phone register on the ship. Believe me I’ll clear up the confusion, Jillian. We have such a special relationship, and I care for you deeply.” He caressed her trembling hand and Kayla could see that the woman weakened.
“You know how much this knife means to me.” He placed his black knife into Jillian’s hand and folder her fingers over the casing. “You’ve admired it often—after all we share the same habit of cleaning our teeth after every meal—so I want you to take it as my gift. Think of it as an award from St. Bertram’s School in appreciation of your large donation. I’m genuinely fond of you, Jillian. Give me a few days to clear up the delay with your donation, and we can laugh about this over a cocktail at our favorite rendezvous.”
What a smooth talker! Kayla resisted the urge to rush out and shake some sense into Jillian as Bryanne entered the lobby.
Patrick murmured, “I’ll call you this week, my dear.” He kissed Jillian’s tear-stained cheek and walked away.
As he passed Kayla noticed his smug expression and ground her teeth.
Bryanne saw the knife, grabbed it away from Jillian, and stomped after Patrick. Kayla followed. Bursting into the dining room Bryanne shouted, “You contemptible, arrogant, self-serving scoundrel! How could you pull the same trick again? Did you forget that you gave me a knife just like this one?”
She waved the knife in Patrick’s face. “Stick this one back into your storeroom filled with special mementos. You must buy them by the gross!” She shoved the knife into the outside pocket of Patrick’s safari jacket and stomped out of the silent room.
Patrick slumped in his chair looking shocked and red-faced. As conversations resumed, he grabbed his jacket and left.
While paying her bill at the counter, Kayla heard him on the telephone.
“I know it’s a busy day with a cruise ship in port! I’m the Chief Purser on the Aurora and I need a cab to pick me up at Tony’s Restaurant…Okay! Then my staff won’t recommend your company any longer!” He slammed the receiver down and stomped out of the restaurant in a huff. “Bloody taxi service!” he said as he climbed back into the tour van.
As Kayla climbed into the van, she saw Patrick in the back seat, picking his teeth and looking sullen. The other passengers avoided looking at their somber companion and spoke in hushed tones during the ride, but Kayla felt cheerful, relieved that the mutiny succeeded. She couldn’t wait to tell Shannon the whole story.
Genny said, “The final stop on our journey is Ti-Tou Gorge. Ti-Tou means ‘little throat hole.’ After a hike to a clearing near the ravine, we walk upstream in the river, and swim the final stretch into a cavern. For your own safety we split the group into two parties. While one group visits the gorge the other will wait on the rocks.”
Patrick demanded that he remain in the van but Genny refused. He argued but when Genny gripped the handle of the machete strapped to her waist, Patrick relented. He scuffed his feet, walking like a sulky child up the trail. When they reached the clearing, Emily elected to accompany Kayla and Genny in the first group.
They eased into the water wearing swimsuits and shoes to protect against sharp rocks, and navigated over the slippery rocks holding hands. The water level was low, but the current was still strong enough to make progress slow. As the ravine narrowed, mossy black walls twisted and curved overhead in a stunning natural sculpture. The river deepened enough to swim as water rushed out from the mouth of a misty cavern.
Thunder rumbled through the cave as they swam against the strong current. The three women reached the source of fresh water, a roaring waterfall that blasted through a narrow opening and spiraled through the tight throat-hole of the gorge. Water gushed into the cavern with frightening force. Kayla understood why access to this spot became impossible during periods of high water runoff.
Clinging onto a rock outcropping with one hand, Kayla managed to take candid photos with her waterproof camera. Emily and Genny swam through the misty water. This is fun, she thought, I’m so glad I took this tour. She lingered as the current beat against her body and enjoyed the breath-taking spectacle, but cold water soon sapped the heat from her body.
Shivering despite the tropical setting, Kayla and Emily followed Genny out of the cavern without complaint. Back on shore, they rubbed chilled skin with fluffy towels and indolently basked in the sun, waiting for the second group to visit the gorge.
Kayla felt amused that Patrick avoided their company by joining the second group. He left his clothes draped over nearby rocks, and his towel spread across the rocky platform where he had stretched out.
“Did you know Bryanne’s aunt would be at Tony’s?” Kayla asked Emily as they allowed the sun’s warmth to heat their cold skin.
Emily shook her head. “What a dreadful scene! I heard that Patrick extracted money from his victims, but the scope of his larceny became vivid when that poor woman confronted him.”
Kayla combed fingers through her damp hair. “Will you dismiss him from your staff?”
Emily smiled. “We’ll give him an opportunity to resign. I’d prefer to save the company an embarrassing scandal. Perhaps Bryanne’s aunt will file charges.”
“Not likely. She might bluster and weep, but why should she endure an embarrassing trial?”
Emily sighed, rubbing lotion over her arms and legs. “Then I’m faced with a dilemma. Should the company involve the authorities?”
“You may not need to call them.”
Emily’s eyebrows lifted. “Why?”
Kayla pulled her hair back into a tie. “I heard the police are already investigating Patrick.”
“Interesting.” Emily leaned back on her elbows and tilted her face into the sun. “Would you consider returning to work for us?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know. Is this an offer?”
Emily peered over the top of her sunglasses. “Yes. Think about it and let me know.” She glanced at the river and sighed. “They’re coming back.” She pulled her dress out of her satchel and slipped it over her head.
Kayla dressed and gathered her stuff, aware that Patrick slipped on the safari jacket and trudged down the trail ahead of her. She remained thoughtful as the group sauntered back to the van. Emily’s offer struck her off guard. She enjoyed a slice of juicy papaya that Genny passed around. Patrick ate papaya and stopped to pick his teeth as Kayla passed him on the trail.
The aroma of damp, rich soil mingled with the spicy scent of decaying cinnamon bark. Hummingbirds whirred through a patch of wild pink ginger blossoms, an invisible parrot squawked from the swaying canopy of trees, and the honeymoon couple murmured endearments.
A sharp gasp and a gurgling cry shattered the tranquility.
Kayla turned.
Time slowed and became a series of ghastly scenes: Patrick stood on the trail above her clawing at his throat . . . his eyes bulged . . . his skin looked mottled with a bluish sheen . . . sweat trickled into frightened eyes . . . a hand reached out . . . his body tumbled forward . . . arms thrashed . . . legs kicked . . . a stricken expression etched into his grisly face. . . Patrick lay quiet at her feet.
&n
bsp; Kayla froze.
She felt like she floated above the scene, observing. Someone screamed; someone else bent over Patrick; someone ran toward the van; someone cried. Kayla was not surprised to discover tears streaming down her own face.
“Is he dead?” Genny gasped.
“I don’t know,” Kayla heard herself answer. Reality drifted. “We need to get him to a hospital!” Urgency cleared her head. “Call on the radio! Get someone up here!”
Genny said, “I already called Flight for Life. They’ll get him to the hospital in no time.”
Staring at Patrick, Kayla leaned against the van. She thought, the mutiny surely wouldn’t go this far! Something else went wrong. My friends wouldn’t do this on purpose. Kayla glanced furtively at the unmoving body. Patrick’s body!
An annoying thud, thud, thud sound intruded on Kayla’s thoughts. Thud, thud, thud like a gigantic mixer beating a stiff cake batter. Wind whipped up leaves and dust as a helicopter hovered above the trees.
Emily and Kayla huddled together outside the van and watched the great machine land. Dressed in gray jumpsuits, the paramedics dashed to Patrick, bent over his body, and worked with efficient movements.
“Looks like a drug overdose,” the pilot said. “It doesn’t look good.”
“Patrick never took drugs,” Kayla mumbled. Paramedics hefted the dead weight onto a stretcher and rushed it to the helicopter. “I can’t believe it could be drugs, we’d have seen him.”
Genny motioned the group back into the van as the helicopter took off. “The police want us down at headquarters for questioning.”
The police questioned them individually in the government building behind the park, and the dreamlike texture of the evening transformed into bleak reality.
“When did you last see Mr. MacIntyre use the toothpick from his knife?” The policeman asked the question a second time before Kayla realized he was speaking to her. She swallowed, trying to clear the lump in her throat.
“At Tony’s Restaurant,” she said. Scenes flashed through her mind, Patrick laughing, his smug expression after giving Jillian the knife, storming from the room after Bryanne shoved it into his pocket. “We sat at the table…Patrick pulled out his knife and used the plastic toothpick…he always cleaned his teeth after eating…”
