Sailor's Delight - A Connie Barrera Thriller: The 2nd Novel of the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Connie Barrera Thrillers)
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Sailor's Delight - A Connie Barrera Thriller
The 2nd Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series
C.L.R. Dougherty
Copyright © 2014 by C.L.R. Dougherty
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Rev. June 2017
Dedication
I offer a heartfelt thank you to my wife, Leslie Dougherty and her parents, Alan and Carol Rea, for the assistance and advice that they contributed to this work. It is a far better book than it would have been without their participation. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. All places mentioned are either fictional or are used in a fictional way.
Join my mailing list at http://eepurl.com/bKujyv for notice of new releases and special sales or giveaways. I promise not to use the list for anything else; I dislike spam as much as you do.
Contents
Virgin Islands to Trinidad
Bequia to Union Island
St. Vincent and Bequia
Tobago Cays
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Mailing List
A Note to the Reader
About C.L.R. Dougherty
Other Books by C.L.R. Dougherty
Read a preview from A Blast to Sail
Prologue
Chapter 1 - A Blast to Sail
Chapter 2 - A Blast to Sail
Chapter 3 - A Blast to Sail
1
Connie had a smile on her face as she pushed the cart down the dock to Diamantista. Before she lifted the first bundle of laundry from the cart, she glanced at her wristwatch. She had hours before Paul's flight arrived — plenty of time to stow the laundry and make up the berths for their guests who would arrive tomorrow. She set both bundles in the cockpit and opened them, separating the sheets and towels from the clothing. She put her things in one pile and Paul's in another, feeling quite wife-like as she took their clothes below and started putting them away in the stateroom that she and Paul shared. She was excited that he'd be back tonight; this was the first time they had been apart since they became a couple, and the three days since he left had seemed to drag on forever. As she stowed a stack of Paul's folded boxer shorts, she felt a small wad of cloth in the back of his top drawer. Curious, she extracted it and shook it out to see what it was. Her heart sank as she recognized the orange thong bathing suit bottom that was the principal garment Karen Gilbert had worn during their last charter.
Besides the crushing pain in her chest, she felt a flush of anger as she recalled her sappy conversation with the woman in the marina office a few minutes ago.
"Where’s Paul? He not been aroun’ for a while. You send him packin’?" The receptionist had teased Connie as she had entered the office.
Connie had laughed. "He’ll be back tonight, Helen. He's been in Miami for the last few days. He had to take care of a bunch of stuff; his condo sold last week."
"Wow! Look like you really got him for good, huh?" Helen had smiled. "Guess there’s no hope for the res’ of us, now."
"Well, we’re committed at this point. Once I sell Diamantista, we’ll make it official."
"How come you wait for that?" The woman had frowned, puzzled. "Better you hook him solid befo' somebody else decide to." She grinned, pretending to primp for an imaginary man.
"He’s hooked solid. Don’t you worry. We’re buying another boat together; we'll have the wedding aboard, once we take delivery."
"I see. When you gon’ get the new boat?" Helen had hefted the two big bundles of freshly laundered linens onto the counter.
"We’ve already bought her; we’re having a refit done up in Maine. It’ll be a few months, yet."
"You gon’ name her Diamantista II?"
"Sailor’s Delight," Connie said. "From when we made the decision."
"You mean like, ‘red sky at night, sailor’s delight’ — that ol’ sayin’?"
"Right. Or maybe Red Sky. I like that one better, but Paul likes Sailor's Delight. We were sitting in the cockpit watching a gorgeous sunset when we decided to go for it."
"Tha's a nice story, Connie. You are two lucky people; I'm happy fo' you."
"Thanks, Helen. Guess I'd better go get this stuff put away. Our next guests arrive tomorrow."
"Don' work too hard, Connie. I jus' put this washin' on the bill, all right?"
"Sure. That'll be great. Thanks, Helen." Connie had shifted the bundled laundry from the counter to the dock cart and walked out of the office with a spring in her step.
That was then. This thong was now. Blinking back tears, she crushed the thong into a ball and shoved it into the back of the drawer where she'd found it. She was in a daze as she put the rest of the laundry away, remembering every minute of the charter with Karen and the other young widow, searching for some explanation. Finished with her chore, she collapsed on the bed and gave in to the urge to cry — something she hadn't done since childhood.
Paul Russo was savoring a colada with his old friend, Mario Espinosa, in Mario's favorite Cuban restaurant on Calle Ocho in Miami's Little Havana. He sipped at the thimble-sized cup of thick, sweet Cuban coffee, thinking it was the perfect finish for their late lunch of roast pork with black beans and rice.
"So, you're really giving up the bachelor life?" Mario asked.
Paul grinned. "It's not a tough choice, Mario."
"Well, I've been married all my life, but I had you figured for a confirmed bachelor. That Connie must be some gal."
"I've never been struck by lightning before, but it's gotta be something like what happened to me the first time I kissed her. Damnedest experience I've ever had — blinding flash of light, ears ringing ... "
Mario chuckled, shaking his head. "The two of you gonna keep running charters? You said you were getting another boat."
"Yeah. We've bought one together; it'll be a few months yet before it's ready. Connie wants to make a go of the business; it's a challenge for her."
"Sounds like a good life," Mario said.
"I don't know. Based on the first charter, I'm not so sure."
"Bad experience?"
"That's putting it mildly. These two widows booked us for a month. We had visions of little old blue-haired ladies, but they were both in their twenties. Knockouts, too," Paul mused, shaking his head and scratching behind his right ear with his index finger.
"One beautiful young girl, Mario. Those widows were like poison. Well ... I guess the one was okay ... or would have been, by herself. The other one, though ... she treated Connie like dirt. And she kept trying to grope me, every time she thought she could get away with it."
"Sounds like a young man's fantasy, Paul. You gettin' old?"
"It was disgusting, Mario. She was looped on rum most of the time. Besides, I'm a one-woman man. I never went for the loose, trashy type."
"I know that. Just teasing you, 'migo. I hope Connie knows what a lucky woman she is."
"I don't know about that, but I'm one lucky guy. Not sure about the charter thing, though."
"You got any more guests lined up?"
"Yeah. There's a couple with a teenaged daughter joining us tomorrow."
"A family, huh? That ought to be better," Mario said.
"I sure hope so. Speaking of that, I'd better get to the airport."
"Glad we got to have lunch. Too bad the rest of the guys couldn't make it; they all send their best."
"Thanks, Mario. It's good to see you; tell the others I'm counting on them to come to the wedding."
"We wouldn't miss it. Everybody wants to meet the bride."
Connie stood in the waiting area outside Customs and Immigration at Maurice Bishop International Airport in Grenada. It was early evening, and the air was refreshingly cool, but she didn't notice. She was determined to suppress her instinct to confront Paul. There was only this evening; their guests would arrive early tomorrow. She didn't want to start something that they couldn't finish. An ongoing quarrel between the two of them was certain to spoil the carefree atmosphere that people had a right to expect when they were on holiday.
She had a lifetime of experience at hiding her emotions, but she couldn't recall ever feeling this distraught. She'd never risked letting herself fall so selflessly in love with a man before Paul came along. Until the last couple of years, she'd been focused on achieving and maintaining financial stability. Falling in love had been a luxury that she could never afford, so this kind of heartbreak was a new experience for her.
She still couldn't believe that Paul would have dallied with that vixen; it seemed out of character for the man she had trusted so implicitly. But, she reminded herself, she really hadn't known Paul for very long. While their romance hadn't been love at first sight, it still fell into the whirlwind category. Both of them had plunged headlong into this relationship while protesting that neither wanted to rush things. Reflecting on the joy of their first unguarded encounter, she momentarily forgot the pain and anger that she had felt earlier this afternoon. She felt a smile forming on her still tear-swollen face, and then a wave of grief washed over her as she remembered the thong. How could he have done that to her? How could he have fallen for such an obvious piece of trash as Karen Gilbert?
She remembered the inebriated woman flaunting her gym-toned body as she flitted around Diamantista in her orange thong, her augmented breasts well-oiled and displayed to their greatest advantage. Since the age of puberty, Connie had known that she was blessed with the kind of natural beauty that set her apart from the crowd, but she felt frumpy around Karen Gilbert. Thinking back, she remembered how Paul had averted his eyes from the spectacle of the woman doing yoga on the foredeck, practically naked. At the time, she had been embarrassed for him because of the woman's aggression.
They had several whispered conversations about Karen's increasingly overt play for Paul, and Connie had discouraged him from a frank confrontation with the woman. She was, after all, a paying guest. Connie and Paul had joked at the time about his 'taking one for the team,' but he had seemed genuinely put off by Karen's behavior. Connie wondered again how she could have misread the situation so badly.
Connie was lost in thought as Paul came through the door from the baggage claim and customs area. When he dropped his duffle bag and wrapped his arms around her, she stiffened, caught off guard. Surprised by her reaction, he released her and stepped back, frowning.
"What's wrong?" he asked, the frown melting into a worried look as he took in her puffy eyes and tense manner.
"Sorry," she said. "I was miles away; you just startled me. How was Miami?"
Paul studied her for a moment, assessing the expression on her face. "Okay," he said. "The closing's done, and my stuff's all in storage. You okay?"
She forced a smile. "Fine. Just tired, I guess. The Regans will be here tomorrow morning."
He picked up his duffle bag. "You take a taxi from the marina?"
"A bus," she replied.
"Let's take a taxi back, then."
She nodded her assent as they walked toward the taxi stand.
"Hungry?" he asked. "We could stop somewhere."
She shook her head. "I had a sandwich."
"Peanut butter and jelly?" he asked.
She nodded. "I like it."
"You eat anything else while I was gone, or is that it?"
That got a little smile from her. "I ate lunch in the marina restaurant every day. I only ate PB&Js for supper."
He chuckled as he put his bag into the back of the van at the front of the taxi queue. She ignored the hand he offered, climbing into the center seat without his assistance.
"We can stop somewhere if you're hungry," she said, as he settled into the seat beside her.
"I'm okay. Had a big lunch with Mario, kind of late in the day."
"Let's make it an early night then," she said. "I'm beat, and we still have to go shopping for provisions in the morning before they show up."
"Okay," he agreed, turning in his seat to look at her, noticing that she wouldn't return his gaze but stared out the windshield instead.
"I'll take care of that; you can sleep in if you want."
"Good," she said, still not looking at him.
He sighed with resignation, puzzled by her cool reception.
2
Mary Nolan sat alone at the table for two in the Grande Anse Resort's beach bar, checking out the men. She took a careful sip of her rum punch, remembering what she had learned from her experience last night. The drinks were deadly; rum was less expensive in the islands than fruit juice, and while the taste was luscious, the aftereffects were hideous. She'd gotten smashed last night and stumbled back to her room alone — not exactly what she had in mind. She was here to celebrate her escape from a bad marriage that had ended in a worse divorce. She'd been celibate for months, not by choice, but to avoid giving her ex any ammunition in their protracted court battle. It had been tough, but the money at stake made it worth her while. Now she was free, and she wanted a man, but not just any man.
There were some stunningly handsome locals. She'd already been approached by a few in her two days here, but she'd made them for the hustlers that they were and sent them on their way. She wasn't looking for a rented boy-toy, nor was she looking for true love. A little honest sex with somebody whose company she could enjoy for a few days was what she had in mind. She'd been watching the two men seated a couple of tables away. They were checking out the women in the bar, and not in a subtle way, either. She'd felt their gaze lingering on her several times already; she told herself it was just a matter of time before one of them made a move. She knew she looked good, and she was dressed for the hunt. She hoped it would be the younger of the two; he was cute, and he looked to be in his late teens – a little young for her, but he was gorgeous. His companion wasn't bad looking, but he was older. He'd do, if that's what fate ordained, but a girl could dream in the meantime.
She had noticed the two of them on the beach earlier. The older one had once been fit, but he was running to fat; he appeared to be in his late thirties. Of average height with dark hair that was thinning on top, he wasn't unattractive, but his younger friend was more what she had in mind. He was tall, slender, and athletic; she'd watched him swim out to the buoys that marked the ed
ge of the boat-free zone off the beach. He moved through the water with the grace of a dolphin, and when he came back to shore and stood up in the knee-deep water, she felt the warmth spread from the root of her being. He was slim, but his smooth, golden skin rippled as the hard ridges of muscle played beneath it, making her squirm with want. He stood for a moment, dripping seawater, and then brushed the droplets from his medium-length blond hair, smiling at her when he caught her watching.
She'd thought for a moment that he'd approach her then, but the older man had said something to him, and he had turned away from her and taken the towel proffered by his friend. He had settled on a lounge chair and warmed himself in the sun for a few minutes, and then the two men had gotten to their feet and walked up the beach to the little pier where several small boats bobbed in the gentle waves. She was disappointed when they stepped into one of the inflatable dinghies and motored off in the direction of the yachts anchored a few hundred yards to the north up the beach. She'd been hoping that they were staying at the resort, but apparently, they were just visiting.
Now, though, they were here in the bar, obviously looking for what she was looking for. She glanced toward their table and caught the younger man staring at her. She smiled invitingly, and was pleased that he smiled in return. But then he looked away and resumed his conversation with the older man. She wondered for a moment about their relationship. They seemed to be an odd pair, unless they were related. When she had first spotted them on the beach earlier, she'd thought they might be a couple, but then she'd seen how they were both admiring the women in their vicinity.