Under the Jamaican Moon (Katy Marshall Romantic Mysteries Book 1)

by Sheila Lee Hall

  Katy wondered what item would be nice for the evening. After much consideration, she chose a big bottle of Old Jamaican rum. The seventy-five-dollar price tag was much more than she had calculated, but Felix was worth it. Felix would pay her back in any way he could. He had lots of options. After some more thought, she tried to find a small box they might need, but couldn’t find any. After asking the manager, he hauled out the only box that was still available — “This is what they use,” he said.

  After consulting her map of the island, Katy calculated she would have no trouble finding the beach. The blanket and Jamaican rum was much heavier than she had originally thought. Weighing her options, she decided a bikini was all she needed. If she wrapped the beach blanket around her and the bottle of Jamaican rum, nobody would think it was strange. If anybody saw her, they would merely assume she was going to one of the many pools in the area.

  She switched off the toggle light near the outside door in case anybody was watching the duplex. After locking the door, she stopped to consider what else she should do. She was still thinking about the crystal meth or whatever it was in the handle tubes of her suitcase. Who was involved and why did they do it?

  After much thought, she went back into the duplex and found a dark shoestring. She tied several knots on one end, and practiced placing the finished end on top of the door before she closed the door. If anybody opened the door, the end with the heavy knots would fall to the floor. She also determined that if she stretched out her hand, she could always place the string a certain distance from the door frame. The trap was now set — she would know if anybody entered her unit.

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  The midnight tryst had not gone the way Katy had planned. What was really upsetting to her was that somebody had entered her unit. She grabbed one of the golf carts owned by the resort and tried to reach the landing before Felix had left on the water shuttle. Luck was with her, the shuttle had been delayed.

  After a brief conversation with Felix, he handed her the keys to cabin 42. “When I get back,” he said, “we will decide what to do.” The ‘we’ sounded very good to Katy.

  Katy had almost finished her work in the dining room late that afternoon, when a man approached her. “Mrs. Kutsun,” he said “Mrs. Katherine Kutsun?”

  Katy was stunned as she glanced at his business card.

  “Let me introduce myself, my name is Jim S. Hickman. I’m a private investigator working for the Esso Insurance Group. It is a group of insurance companies that have banded together to investigate insurance claims. Can I speak with you privately?”

  Katy invited him back to her duplex. “What is this all about?” she demanded. What do you mean by calling me Mrs. Kutsun? Please sit down!”

  “Well, Mrs. Kutsun, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was vacationing in Jamaica when I saw the articles in the Kingston Gazette about Sam Kutsun losing his seventh wife, so I decided I better investigate.”

  “His seventh wife?”

  “The newspaper did print a small page article about a swimmer being rescued about the same time his wife disappeared. I thought that wife and the swimmer might be the same person.”

  Katy had now started to collect herself. “I did survive a possible drowning in the Caribbean. But, I assure you, I am not married to Sam Kutsun.”

  Hickman pulled out a small notebook. “Unfortunately, I don’t have all my records. Seven women have apparently been married in Clark County, Nevada, to Sam Kutsun. Maybe I’m wrong, you may be only number six. Let me backtrack a moment, you are Katherine B. Marshall from Denver, Colorado — right?”

  Katy now had to sit down. “Yes, I am indeed Katherine B. Marshall. I want to assure you that I am not married to Sam Kutsun, have never been married to him, and do not intend to be his wife at any time in the future.”

  Hickman looked at his notes again. “There was a marriage licence filed for a Samuel Winfield Kutsun and a Katherine B. Marshall shortly before this last New Years. You may not think he married you, but apparently he does.”

  Katy sat there completely in unbelief.

  “Our insurance problem is that there are no records that indicate he divorced the last three wives before he married you. Apparently the last wife, Helen, was only common law, which is why we are having a problem determining if you are wife number six or wife number seven.”

  “So, do I have to officially divorce him, even though I’m not married to him, or do I just ignore the whole thing?”

  Hickman stood up. “I don’t know what to tell you. If somebody claims he’s married to you, and has the license, he probably is married to you. However, if he never divorced his previous wives, it is bigamy, so you can’t be married to somebody who already has several wives. At least, it’s not legal in this country.”

  Katy now tried to collect herself even more. “What difference does it make to you, or any of the insurance companies you represent, whether I am actually married to him or not. It seems to me, he has to actually prove marriage to me, or if I can make a pun, ownership of a particular wife, which, I assume, is necessary to collect life insurance.”

  Hickman now sat down. “Possibly, but of course it all depends on the state you’re living in. It also depends on how the courts look at it. If you own several buildings, and they all burn down while covered by insurance, you would expect to recover the entire amount they are insured for.”

  “So what you’re saying is, that it doesn’t make any difference if you have one wife, or many, you can insure them all, drop them in the ocean, and collect insurance on all of them. Wow!”

  Hickman thought some more. “Not exactly, you could have other survivors, like children or others named in a divorce settlement, or lawsuit, who could make a claim against the estate of which the insurance would be a part. But again, each jurisdiction might decide it differently.”

  Katy now decided to pursue the insurance matter even further. “Suppose now, I am actually married to him, could I actually take out an insurance policy on him for one million dollars without him knowing about the policy or the amount I insured him for?”

  Hickman had started to get up, but sat down again. “Well, not usually,” he said. “Usually the person being insured has to agree to the policy, and of course the amount of the policy.”

  “What if the signature of the insured is forged and not discovered?”

  Hickman this time stood up for good. “If it is proven that signatures have been forged, that person will probably end up in jail. Mrs. Kutsun, it was nice meeting you but I have to leave. Enjoy the rest of your time here.”

  As Hickman left, Katy mumbled to herself, “Right, I am absolutely enjoying myself here. When Felix gets back, I will enjoy it even more. I hope he brings a satellite phone back for me like I asked him to.”

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  The most pressing problem for Katy was where to spend the night. The duplex didn’t seem very safe. Just before he left that morning, Felix said, “You can’t always trust the police.” Did he know something he wasn’t telling her?

  As Katy considered the problem, it was unclear whether somebody was after the crystal meth, or had discovered the soap crystals in the suitcase and wanted to take revenge. Was Sam Kutsun also involved? Then again, had somebody from the Blue Dolphin remembered she may have seen the small submarine and wanted to silence her forever?

  Although the small duplex was fairly visible in back of the main lodge, it still might not be safe enough if several criminals or thugs decided to break into it during the middle of the night as there was hardly any major lighting around the building. Felix’s place was the only place to go.

  She carefully set up her door trap again. As the evening shadows grew around the building, she slipped from the building carrying only what she needed. She would make sure nobody was going to follow her. />
  The next morning, she carefully followed the trail back to the lodge. Inspecting the door trap, she found the string only two inches from the door frame — she had placed it five inches from the door frame. Somebody was on to her.

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  Katy had enjoyed the type of food that Felix had in his cabin. He really knew how to eat. It was midnight when she woke up with a cold chill running down her spine. She finally realized she was trapped on this island. The only way off was by a water shuttle, or by helicopters that came to some of the expensive villas. If she was being targeted by a drug gang, all they needed to find out would be when she was going to the mainland. Halfway there, she would be picked up and thrown in the water. There would be no Felix with his surfboard to save her. She would be just another young woman who disappeared.

  Another chilling thought also crossed her mind. She had just put Felix in danger of losing his life. As soon as they figured out she was staying in his cabin, they would be raiding it. Luckily, Felix had pointed to a key rack which held several key rings. He had said, “When I get tired of this place, I will try one of these places.” Now she would move if necessary.

  Katy calculated that in the end, it really came down to Sam Kutsun. Too many women had simply disappeared who had some connection with him. Did he collect insurance money on all of them? The bigger question remained, was he connected with the drug gang, and did he know she was still alive?

  The phone rang the next morning at 5:00 a.m. It was Felix. “Hey darling, are you still living? I knew I’d find you someplace.” Katy assured him she was still alive, but was wondering where he kept the Kalashnikov. “Theoretically,” he said, “guns aren’t allowed on the island, but the island is actually full of them. I am bringing back a satellite phone for you. It cost me a fortune.”

  His solution to security was simple “Just pretend you don’t know anybody is watching you, be careful, never be alone, and watch your back. I hope to be back tomorrow but it might be later. I am having trouble getting registered for the golf tournament.”

  As Katy expected, the door trap had shown its worth. Somebody had opened the door of her duplex unit, whether looking for drugs — or her! This was not a good thought she assured herself.

  Al-ho had been reluctant to talk much, but now she hailed him down after the breakfast crowd had left. “Where did you say Sam Kutsun is staying, is it that villa just below us?”

  “Yes, it is below us. Have you seen the star-scope?”

  Katy acknowledged that she had.

  “Have you looked through it? You can point it right at that villa.”

  Al-ho took her over to the deck and rotated the star-scope so it pointed downward. “Look. You can see it yourself.”

  It took some adjusting, but Katy found it was fairly easy to use. She could see a figure laying on the deck next to a hot tub.

  “How come Mr. Kutsun never came to the restaurant?” Katy wanted to see how Kutsun reacted when he saw she was still alive.

  Al-ho was slightly taken back by her comment. “These villas have their own cook, in addition to a butler.”

  Katy was slightly stunned. “Well, for ten thousand dollars per night, I guess you can have anything you want.”

  Later that afternoon as she thought about the star-scope, she had been amazed by the resolution and clarity of the image. Suddenly, she remembered the photos she had seen on Al-ho’s wall when she first saw his unit. Those pictures had to have been taken through the star-scope. She had noticed that the power could be ratcheted up to 50x. At that power, it would be possible to have a clear view of whoever was on the deck or even the hot tub.

  Katy wondered that with the image so clear, it would be possible for anybody to see what movie star or foreign diplomat was using that particular villa. If Felix was right, and various individuals were entertaining Hollywood starlets, models, etc., then photos taken of them could be used for blackmail. No public figure would want to be exposed to what these photos might show.

  Katy continued with her thoughts. She remembered when she had first met Al-ho, he said he would not return to Japan until he had lots of money. Where would he get it? Even if he collected up to eighty thousand dollars in salary as the chief chef, had free lodging and food, basically paid no income tax, he could still be considered poor by Japanese standards.

  As Katy got up from her coffee break, she also had to consider again how she was going to get off the island. When Felix returned with a satellite phone, she would use it immediately. But what about Felix? Was he involved in something? He seemed to have access to many rental units. Why? She had reached the point where she was starting to suspect everybody.

  Her afternoon speculations had raised a number of questions, but now escalated when she went back to her duplex unit. She found a notice on her door indicating she needed to vacate the unit within four days. The next Japanese chef would be arriving to replace the chef who had left. The notice also said that management hoped she had enjoyed her stay.

  As the evening hours drew to a close, Katy was startled to see two dark-skinned deck hands from the Blue Dolphin peeking through the front door. What were they doing there?

  As the restaurant closed down for the night, Katy decided to look at the lower villa with the star-scope. The lights in the villa were on and several figures were visible. Katy cranked up the star-scope to 50x magnification. The figure of the captain from the Blue Dolphin came into full clear view. There was no doubt any longer that Sam Kutsun knew Katy Marshall was alive and well on Isla de los Muertos.

  As Katy was about to turn away from the star-scope, another movement caught her eye. Two figures had emerged from the main building. Katy couldn’t believe her eyes — they were zombies, the same ones she had seen on the eastern end of the island. It was obvious, the drug gangs, the crew of the Blue Dolphin, as well as Sam Kutsun, were all connected in some way.

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  Katy had now come to decision time. She had never planned to be on this island. In addition, she didn’t expect to almost lose her life in the Caribbean, didn’t expect to meet Felix, and certainly didn’t expect to deal with a bunch of drug smugglers. How she proceeded may depend on whether or not she stayed living much longer. If she also lost her lodging privileges, where was she going to stay?

  The conference these men were apparently holding might involve what they were going to try and do with her. She didn’t know exactly when Felix would be back, so that was no help. Their conference might also mean that something big was about to happen — some expanded smuggling operation and they were trying to figure out how to handle it. The key, for her anyway, would always be Sam Kutsun.

  There was a helicopter currently sitting on the helipad. If that left, his villa might be vacant for several hours if Kutsun also left. Now was the time to see if she could gain access. Consequently, she started her watch with the star-scope. The telescope was moved to a more hidden, convenient location where she wouldn’t be seen.

  After an hour of watching, the men emerged from the villa and climbed on the helicopter to leave, Kutsun among them. Now was the time for action. The trail down to the villa was relatively easy to follow in the moonlight compared to what she had been using in the past. If Felix was right, the doors of the villa should be unlocked, giving access to the building. The warm, gentle night breeze and fragrant flowers made her wish she was on one of the remote beaches with Felix.

  When she reached the villa, she was amazed by the richness of the setting. The teak deck completely surrounded the building, with two hot tubs facing the Caribbean. Looking through the windows, she saw very expensive furniture and wall hangings that indicated a very lavish lifestyle. One room contained big floral paintings of nude Polynesian women surrounded by marble statues of European men surveying the scene. All the floors were covered by colorful tile mos
aics.

  Katy spent almost an hour inching her way around the villa, trying to make sure the villa was completely vacant. She tried one door to find it securely locked. After circling the villa twice, she found every door had been locked. She felt a small breeze near one of the windows. The window was open, with only an outside screen preventing access to the interior. Removing the screen, she found, was an easy task.

  There was nothing in the main room that indicated any kind of illegal activity. In fact, there was nothing there to indicate that the villa was being occupied. Katy finally located the bedroom, but it too looked unused. The only noise in the entire interior of the villa was a ticking wall clock.

  The only personal item in the bedroom was a large, faded brown attaché case that Katy knew Sam Kutsun carried with him wherever he went. When she looked in the case, only a small knife, flashlight, and keys were in it. Katy picked up the attaché case and threw it across the room. Her midnight expedition paid her nothing of value.

  The attaché case had hit the edge of a table and several packets had slid out from a side pocket that she had not originally noticed. She now used the small flashlight to look at the items in the packets. Her blood ran cold! Just as she suspected, the marriage had been a sham.

  One of the packets held a copy of a marriage license with her name on it. Another packet had insurance policies on her life with Sam Kutsun named as beneficiary. Cuban offshore oil and gas lease applications were in another packet. Katy carried all the packets to a small isolated corner where she could get a look at them under better lighting without any possibility of being seen.