Bluewater Killer: A Serial Murder Mystery Set In Florida and the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 1)

by Charles Dougherty

  "Like your eyes," he said.

  ****

  "Thank you for yesterday, Phillip," Sandrine said, kissing his cheek as she slid out of his car in the parking lot at the Marina. "Call me when you are return from the trip, please. I know you must rush to the airplane. I hope I am not to cause you being late," she tossed over her shoulder as she sashayed around the corner to the Customs office.

  Phillip smiled, shaking his head as he watched the show, thinking that he had been a fool for not seeing her more often over the months since they had met. He drove to the airport, leaving himself plenty of time to check in for his flight. LIAT, unusually, was on time. He boarded as soon as his flight was called, and after he buckled his seatbelt, he attempted to study the file on Dani's disappearance. His mind kept wandering back to Sandrine even as he paged through the printout from the passport database. He had never had the luxury of trying to form a lasting relationship with anyone. When he was in the military, he had been on call virtually all the time. Certainly, that had been his choice. He liked the excitement of the special ops world, and he had not believed that he could balance commitment to his career and a commitment to a wife, even though other folks managed it. Everybody was different when it came to those tradeoffs, but he had grown up in a traditional family -- a rare enough thing for someone his age, he figured. His father had married after completing his military service in the Vietnam era, and had practiced law in a small town in east Texas. His mother had been a stay-at-home mom for him and his two brothers.

  That was his defining reference for married life, and he had seen no way to make marriage work, given his chosen profession. He had consoled himself with the notion that his special ops work was a young man's game, and he thought that he would have time for himself and a wife and family when he was too old for jumping out of planes and blowing up buildings. When he finally left the military, he had found himself drawn into an environment that was even less conducive to family life. After a close call with eternity about three years ago, he realized that, while not rich, he had enough money to live well without risking his life. He had bought the place in Martinique and chilled out for a couple of years, just drifting through days without structure. Now that he was looking for Dani, his life had purpose again. The difference was that he chose his own direction now, instead of pursuing goals set by others. He realized that he could finally manage a relationship with a woman, and Sandrine certainly appealed to him. He needed to pay more attention to that part of his life. At 42, he wasn't too old to start a family, especially as he had some measure of financial stability, thanks to the lucrative nature of his activities after he had become a civilian contractor to certain nameless agencies of the U.S. government.

  After a ride through Dominica's lush countryside, Phillip paid off his taxi at the bridge over the Indian River, just outside of Portsmouth. He walked down to where the Indian River Guides hung out on the front porch of the building on the point, their boats tied off to a collection of odd bits and pieces of riprap that lined the shore. He spotted Sharktooth resting his huge frame on a beer crate in the shade, a frosty bottle of locally brewed Guiness in hand. Not only was it served ice-cold down here, but it also had nothing but the name in common with the brew from Saint James Gate in Dublin. The fine print on the label said, "Brewed under license," and Phillip had often wondered just how broad the terms of the license were. Sharktooth saw him out of the corner of his eye and stood up, setting his empty bottle carefully aside. Someone would collect it for recycling. Nothing was wasted here. Even non-refillable bottles were used to package locally produced salted nuts, among other things.

  "Hey, Phillip," Sharktooth said, sounding like an oil drum filled with coconuts rolling downhill.

  "Good morning, my friend," Phillip smiled, bumping fists with Sharktooth, Rasta fashion. "Life has been good to you."

  "Yeah, mon, pretty good," Sharktooth agreed, patting the hard belly which made up a little more of his bulk than it had the last time Phillip had seen him. "My girl, she been feedin' me irie. Mebbe too good, hey, Phillip? You lookin' the same, mon. Ev'yt'ing good wit' you?"

  "Everything's good, Sharktooth, irie," Phillip agreed.

  "Come, Phillip. We go in the boat to get some lunch. They got a big pot of goat water over the place on the beach. We eat, then we sit and watch the yacht, Sea Serpent, 'til they come back from islan' tour wit' Robert. Okay, mon?"

  "Okay, Sharktooth. Let's go. I'm hungry," Phillip said, heading for Sharktooth's brightly painted speedboat. He noticed that it had a new paint job, in red, green, and yellow. Sharktooth's trademark, the dried cartilaginous jaws of a big mako shark, still held pride of place on the foredeck.

  Chapter 12

  Phillip and Sharktooth, replete with a heavy midday meal of goat water with rice and fried plantains washed down with icy local beer, sat in the open-air, beachfront restaurant, looking out over the anchored yachts. They were nursing after dinner rum drinks and reminiscing about their adventures of days gone by.

  "Phillip, you 'member the night I got this?" Sharktooth asked, raising his T-shirt to expose an ugly scar that spanned his solid looking gut. "That mon, he was wild."

  "Yeah, he was, Sharktooth. Maybe it was because you had just pulled his ear off," Phillip said, grinning at the memory. "He was just threatening to shoot us until you did that. Then he got so angry he threw the gun at me and went after you with the razor."

  "How come you so slow to shoot he, Phillip? He cut me good befo' you stop he."

  "Well, I thought it was just a private disagreement until he cut you. Then I was afraid you were going to kill him before we got to ask him about the shipment of machine guns that went missing. I figured if I shot him in the knee you'd let him live. Never knew you to hurt a cripple," Phillip said, teasing the big man.

  Sharktooth's big frame shook with laughter. "That the troot, mon," he said. "Look! Robert comin' wit' the folks from the yacht. We bes' pay Armand and get back to the boat."

  They settled up with the giant behind the bar -- Phillip thought he was a relative of Sharktooth's -- and strolled out onto the rickety dock, where Sharktooth's boat sat bobbing in the wakes from the water taxis that were suddenly crisscrossing the anchorage, returning people to their yachts after excursions ashore. They took their time approaching Sea Serpent, getting a good look at the couple scrambling aboard from Robert's water taxi.

  "'Allo, Sea Serpent," Sharktooth called as he idled his boat up alongside. "You need some fresh fruit? Maybe cold beer? Restaurant for dinner?"

  "No, thanks," the man said, pleasantly enough, as Sharktooth turned his most engaging smile upon the woman in the string bikini.

  "Your lady, I bet she come from Martinique," Sharktooth said, gold teeth gleaming.

  "How do you know this?" she asked.

  "Because, except for my wife, the mos' beautiful ladies in the islan', they all come from Martinique." Sharktooth grinned.

  "Excuse me for interrupting," Phillip said, directing his attention to the man. "My name is Phillip Davis, and I'm hoping for a word with Mike Reilly. I'm betting you're the man himself," he said in a friendly tone.

  "Sure am," Mike said. "What can I do for you, Phillip?"

  "Well, I just spoke with Jim and Joann, on Morris Dancer, the other day. They told me that you knew Dani Berger," Phillip paused.

  "Mm," Mike said, his guard obviously going up. He focused on hiding his frustration and embarrassment. He remembered his encounter with the folks on Morris Dancer, but he had no recollection of this Dani woman. What could this guy want? Mike couldn't lie; he didn't know the truth, so fabrication was dangerous. If he made up answers to questions about Dani, he would just dig himself in more deeply. He might have already gotten himself in trouble with what he had told the Morrises; he would just have to tread carefully and disclose nothing.

  Phillip waited, his steady gaze fixed on Mike.

  "She was just aboard for a little while," Mike said, filling the silence. "That's when we met Jim and
Joann. I can't really say I knew her."

  Phillip was picking up a discordant vibe from Mike, watching the fingers of the man's right hand fidgeting furiously. He glanced at the woman and saw that she was looking strangely at her companion, an open question in her green eyes. The man clearly didn't want to talk about Dani, but he gave none of the classic signs that Phillip associated with lying.

  "So how long did your 'trial run' last with Dani?" Phillip asked, trying to provoke a reaction, sensing that Mike was not going to offer much in the way of information.

  "Trial run? I don't understand." Mike shook his head, looking at Phillip with genuine confusion.

  "When you saw Jim and Joann in Saint Lucia, you told them that Dani was just aboard for a trial run, and that you hoped she would join you for an extended cruise. At least, that's what they told me." Phillip continued to press the issue, watching as Mike's eyes shifted erratically from side to side, looking for a way out. The woman, presumably Michelle, was looking at him as if he had just sprouted horns and a tail.

  "I don't remember saying that. I don't know what you're talking about. None of this is making sense. Who are you, anyway?" Panic was clear in Mike's voice, as he looked at Phillip, bewildered.

  "I'm a friend of Dani's, and her family is worried. She's disappeared, and you seem to be the last person with whom she was seen. The police from Saint Vincent are looking for her, too, to ask her some questions about her departure from the Rambling Gal. She seems to have left unexpectedly in Mayreau on October 20, the same day the Morrises saw the two of you in the Tobago Cays. I was hoping you could at least tell me where you put her ashore after that," Phillip explained, patiently.

  "I don't have to talk to you. I want you to get away from my boat, now," Mike said, trembling.

  Phillip sensed Sharktooth shifting his position, getting ready for aggression. Phillip gestured behind his back for him to back off. They had gotten as much from this guy as they were going to get. There was no point in making a scene that would involve the local police at this stage, even if Sharktooth was solidly connected.

  "I'll leave," Phillip said, smoothly, "but I have a feeling that we have more to talk about. Fair winds until I see you again," he said, as he released his grip on Sea Serpent's toe rail, allowing Sharktooth's boat to drift away. Sharktooth blew a kiss to the beautiful woman as he turned to start the outboard.

  ****

  "We go back later and take he fishin', Phillip? Without the lady?" Sharktooth asked, as they tied the boat to the dock at the restaurant where they had eaten lunch. "The man mus' know somet'ing, the way he act."

  "Maybe," Phillip agreed, tentatively. "Maybe not. He was shaken. That's for sure, but I don't think he was lying to us. More like he thought he should know the answers to the questions we were asking, but he didn't. I'm going to find out everything I can about him, while I keep looking for Dani down island. He was evasive and upset, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what happened to Dani." Phillip had visions of Sharktooth making fish bait out of Mike, so he wanted to calm Sharktooth down a bit. It wouldn't be the first time Sharktooth had taken independent action after getting involved in a situation like this with Phillip.

  "If he put she ashore somewhere, why he don' jus' say it, Phillip?" Sharktooth wondered. "You see the way the lady look at he?"

  "Yeah, I think that's why he was so upset, Sharktooth. There was something going on with that lady, too -- her name is Michelle Devereaux, by the way. He didn't want to talk about Dani in front of her, that's for sure. I could see that right away. I just wanted to push him a little and see what happened. I don't think he knows where Dani went. It would have been too easy just to tell us, 'She spent a few hours aboard and I dropped her back at Mayreau,' or whatever, once we blew his cover with Michelle. That would have been a bulletproof answer. All we could have done was say thanks and go looking where he said he left her. I almost felt like Dani just bailed out on him, and he didn't have a clue about where or why. That Michelle's another puzzle, too."

  "Michelle? She a puzzle why?"

  Sharktooth went around behind the empty bar and dredged two cold beers out of the icebox, and Phillip pulled up a stool. He told Sharktooth what he knew. With Sharktooth as a sounding board, Phillip tried to make sense of the information that he had gathered. If Mike had been truthful with Jim and Joann Morris, then what was he doing with Michelle aboard? It could be that Dani was planning to join him at some later date. Phillip had more questions than answers from his encounter with Mike, but his impression was that Mike didn't know anything about Dani that would help them to find her. Maybe he just made up the 'trial run' thing to explain her unexpected disappearance to the Morrises. The more Phillip thought about it, the more likely this explanation seemed to him.

  "Did you catch the look on that Michelle face, when you axe he 'bout Dani?" Sharktooth's question brought Phillip's attention back to the folks on Sea Serpent. "She gone gi' that man some trouble, now. She one unhappy lady 'bout the whole Dani t'ing, I t'ink."

  "Yes, I think you're right. I was watching her when I could. I don’t think she knew anything at all about Dani. Did you get a different idea?" Phillip asked.

  "She look like the new wife, jus' find out the husband, he already married to some other lady. Tha's what I t'ink. She don' know they been another lady in he life, least not lately. I t'ink he been tellin' she some tale."

  Sharktooth ran Phillip back into town in the boat, and called a taxi to take him to the airport. He agreed to talk to his cousin at the customs office, and give Phillip a call with all of the details when Sea Serpent left Dominica.

  ****

  Mike was nursing a colossal headache, and Michelle was not helping.

  "Why do you tell me you have no one, when only last week, you have this Dani on the yacht in the Tobago Cays?" she asked, her voice shrill.

  Mike's vision was wavering in time with her rising inflection. "Michie, what difference does it make?" he asked, in a pleading tone. "I can't even remember her. She must have been aboard for a few hours, because those people saw her, but she left somehow without me knowing, I guess. Nothing happened. I don't even know her."

  "Is exact, Mike. She make no difference to me. She is not now. Is very strange, this story you tell about alone, and about not remember. It make me to be some frightened that you do not wish me to know about her. Why have you go around the way to tell me what is not true? So, now you tell me how many other lady have been sailing on this yacht with you in the years you are being alone."

  Michelle was a keen student of human nature. Her hard-won ability to read people quickly had been essential to her survival thus far in her young, colorful life. She had experience with all sorts of lowlife besides her most recent, drug-addicted boyfriend. Since her early teens, she had lived in the company of muggers, thieves, con artists, smugglers, and drug dealers. Most of her female friends had been hookers, but she had used her brains as well as her looks, and had lived by her wits without sinking to the level of her companions. She wasn't judgmental, but she was alarmed that she had been so taken in by Mike's pathetic tale of loneliness. This lapse in her powers of observation infuriated her.

  She could not have cared less what Mike had done before she decided to con him into taking her on board Sea Serpent, but when she began to discover how completely she had misread him, she was shaken. Mike thought her reaction was jealousy, but she was actually terrified at the prospect that her well-proven skills at sizing up her marks had failed her so badly. She couldn't believe that he could lie so effectively, and over such an extended period, without a single tell. This ability of his was unique in her experience. She had actually found herself falling for this jerk, only to discover that she was the one being misled. Her fury aside, she was relieved that she had found him out before she made a complete fool of herself with him.

  Mike was in shock. His beautiful new companion had turned into a virago, and someone had connected him to this Dani's disappearance. He couldn't think, let alon
e respond coherently to Michelle. He felt the waves of stress washing over him as physical pressure. His brain was throbbing, pressing rhythmically against the inside of his skull, threatening to force his eyes from their sockets, and this raging woman, with her broken English, was stepping up the already intolerable pressure. If only he had the strength to shut her up; but it was too late. He sensed that he was leaving, somehow. He thought that soon, he would find peace in oblivion -- this physical torment had to be self-limiting, surely.

  When Michelle saw Mike's eyes glazing as he appeared to slip from consciousness, her rage was amplified. She would not be ignored. As she rose to her feet, her right foot lashed out at him, seemingly of its own volition, making solid contact with his shoulder and knocking him from his perch on the cockpit coaming. The sound of his head hitting the deck outside the cockpit resonated like a coconut dropping on concrete, bringing her down from her fury. Suddenly she was worried that she might have killed him, as she watched the slowly spreading pool of blood beneath his head. Not that he didn't deserve to die, but she didn't know enough to sail this boat to Saint Martin by herself.

  Suddenly much calmer, her perspective restored somewhat by the physical release of striking the object of her fury, she dropped to her knees beside him to assess the damage. She discovered a small cut above his hairline on the right side of his head, where his head had struck the sharp edge on the genoa sheet block mounted on the track along the deck near where he lay. She knew scalp wounds bled profusely; she had seen plenty of them at close hand. She felt his pulse and checked his pupils, deciding that he would be all right once he regained consciousness. Although her rage was spent, she was still uncomfortable with this man.