Dying for a Vacation: The India Kirby Witch Mystery (Book 4)

by Sarah Kelly

  “Me too!” the biracial woman said. “I already want to move here.”

  “I picked the best place, didn’t I?” Sam said loudly.

  “You sure did,” Charlie said, while everyone else rolled their eyes, especially Freya.

  India wondered if Sam had morphed into a bridezilla in the run up to her wedding, or if she was always that demanding. She imagined it would be hard to hang onto friends with such a self centered attitude. Only Charlie seemed to be interested in placating her, and even she had a weary, resentful look in her eyes.

  India was reluctant to get back in the taxi once they had finished. She hoped their resort wasn’t too sprawling and anonymous, or filled with tourists. She’d just had a taste of real life in Grenada, and she loved it. “Promise me we’ll come and do this again,” she said to Xavier. “I don’t just want to do the whole sunbathing, swimming, cocktails thing.”

  “Music to my ears,” Xavier said, clicking in his seatbelt.

  When Fitzgerald started up the taxi again, everyone was in a better mood. It was hard not to be, with warm bread and drinks in their bellies.

  “We want to do loads of tours with you,” Sam said, leaning forward against the back of India’s seat. “What’s your name again?”

  “Fitzgerald,” he said with a good natured laugh.

  “Yep,” Jazz said. “I can’t wait to get exploring.”

  But little did they know, nothing was to go to plan on the bachelorette party of Sam’s dreams. Because one of them would be dead before the sun rose the next day.

  CHAPTER 2

  The Angel’s Dune Resort was a delightful surprise for India. It was nothing like the massive high rise Sandals-type affair that she’d feared. Instead, tiny wooden cottages with their own verandahs were dotted between reams and reams of bright green vegetation, flowering bushes, and neatly cut lawns.

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous,” she said as Fitzgerald drove them in.

  He dropped the bachelorette party at their adjoining cottages and gave him their phone number – they’d call him when they wanted a tour. Xavier, always a gentleman, had helped unloading the bags despite the fact none of them had spoken a word to him.

  “Whew,” Fitzgerald said when he got back in the taxi, and though he didn’t say any more, both India and Xavier knew exactly what he meant. They laughed a little, and left it at that. “I think this is you guys right at the end.”

  Xavier looked at the key he’d been given by reception when they’d pulled up. “Hummingbird Cottage. Seems right.”

  India couldn’t believe her eyes. Even when mostly obscured by palms, the wooden cottage was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. Painted in a strikingly rich purple shade, with turquoise accents and white gingerbread detailing along the front, it was truly breathtaking. Beyond it, passionfruit vines weaved their way across a white picket fence, and the view literally made her breath catch in her throat. Rows and rows of lush green hills stretched into the distance on one side, while a vast expanse of bright blue sea glittered in the sunlight on the other. They met at a golden beach in the center, dotted with coconut trees.

  When they got out of the taxi, India had to stand for a moment, just looking out over it all, allowing herself to sink into awe. Xavier came up behind her and gently hooked his arm around her waist. “You like it?” he whispered into her ear.

  “Yes,” she whispered back. “More than I could ever say.”

  A gate to the side of the house revealed a large darkwood verandah and a small plunge pool at the end.

  “Wow,” India said. “We have our own pool, too?”

  “I wanted to get the best,” Xavier mumbled under his breath as he carried the cases into the cottage, sounding a little embarrassed. “For you.”

  India followed him and Fitzgerald into the cottage, which was small but perfect. The majority of the main room, which was a kitchen and living room both in one, was comprised of wooden slatted walls, allowing the breeze to billow through and cool them. The floorboards were stained in a rich mahogany color, contrasting with the whitewashed walls and turquoise accents throughout. The bedroom had a tiled floor, coral color walls and two four poster beds with ivory linen and white mesh drapes – Xavier was so traditional he’d booked them separate beds. India rushed through to see the bathroom, which was exquisite. Stone tiling covered every wall and floor, and a door led to a spacious outdoor shower.

  “This is perfect,” India kept saying. It was small, just how she liked it. Her own Key West style cottage back in Florida was tiny. Comforting and cozy was her thing. She didn’t see the point of having some sprawling mansion when she preferred to be outside in the sun anyways.

  “You’ll show us where the beach is?” Xavier asked Fitzgerald once the cases were all inside and he’d pressed a tip into his hand. “It looks quite a way down from here.” They were on a hillside, which afforded them the great view, but it was hard to tell how to get down to the shoreline.

  “Of course,” Fitzgerald said with a nod. “You guys wanna go now?”

  India grinned. “No way I’m passing that offer up.”

  After quickly slipping into beach clothes – India headed into the bathroom to conjure a gold and turquoise kaftan flowing to her ankles – they followed Fitzgerald.

  “Where did you get that from?” Xavier asked.

  India, cursing herself, remembered he’d packed for her. “Oh,” she said, as breezily as she could manage, “when you went to get a burger at the airport, I treated myself to a little something.” She anticipated his next question. “I wanted to keep it a surprise for you.”

  “Right, okay,” Xavier said, furrowing his brow. She could tell he trusted her, but there were definitely question marks in his head. Question marks that ultimately could mean danger for her abilities, or for their relationship, or both.

  Fitzgerald took a narrow path between two low hanging coconut trees, from where narrow stone steps, tucked between bright flower bushes, descended. It felt like such an adventure.

  “It’s quite a long way, isn’t it?” India said, as the stairs seemed to go on and on.

  “Nearly there,” Fitzgerald said. “As soon as we’re on the flat it’s only a couple of minutes.”

  The steps eventually ended, and India looked back up to see if she could spot their cottage way up there. She hadn’t quite realized how high up they had been. But thick foliage blocked her view. It felt like being in another world altogether.

  They had arrived in what looked like a barely tamed jungle, though there was a cleared path through. Sand scattered the dirt here and there. As they walked on further, the dirt became pure sand and the trees began to thin. India heard the gentle roar of the sea for the first time.

  “And here we are,” Fitzgerald said, sidestepping a tall tree and holding his arms out like he was immensely proud.

  The deep blue water faded into clear as it lapped up on the pale beige sand. A couple strolled along the beach, holding hands, and a man sat on a lounger reading a book. Otherwise the sun loungers were all stacked up and the place was empty. Tranquil and pristine and natural.

  “Yes,” Xavier said, looking over the beach and taking India’s hand in his. “It’s better than the pictures.”

  India smiled from ear to ear. “It’s perfection.”

  Fitzgerald was smiling along, but as his eyes tracked over the beach his expression changed. “Not quite perfect,” he said, looking over in the distance to where a fisherman sat on a vivid orange wooden fishing boat, watching them.

  “What’s the matter?” India asked. “Who’s he?”

  Fitzgerald turned back to them with a sigh, then smiled. It did not seem put on, but there was a hint of sadness to it. “Don’t worry yourselves about it,” he said. “You’re here to enjoy your vacation. Why don’t we get some loungers there for you guys?”

  “And for you,” Xavier said, “if you’re free, that is. I’d love to talk to you more about Grenada.”

  Fitzgerald broke into
a smile, a genuine, heartfelt one. “Well, all right. That sounds good. There’s a little beach bar around the corner, past the rocks there. For another hotel, really, but I can get us something if you want?”

  “It seems like a lot of trouble,” India said, looking over the rocks. He’d have to climb all the way around.

  But Fitzgerald laughed. “No, I do it all the time. I will go get myself a beer in any case. What can I get for you two?”

  “A beer sounds good,” Xavier said. “Local, if possible.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Can I get a juice please? Ooh, like local fruit juice?” India asked. She’d never been big on alcohol and really wasn’t in the mood for it. A glass of champagne now and then was about her limit.

  “All right,” Fitzgerald said, already heading off to the rocks. “Soon come.” Then he looked at the fisherman and ran his hand across his own neck in a slicing motion.

  India placed her towel on the lounger Xavier had laid out for her. “What’s all that about?”

  “Looks like they’re not the best of friends,” Xavier said breezily, sitting on his lounger and kicking off his flip flops. He shrugged. “Not our business.”

  India sat and peered at the fisherman. He hadn’t moved from his seat on the side of the small boat. His head was still angled toward them, but they’d moved too far away to see if he was still looking at them or not. “I don’t know why, but he kind of gives me the creeps.”

  “Then stop looking at him,” Xavier said. “We’re in the most beautiful place ever. It’s supposed to be perfect. Don’t let him spoil it.”

  India shrugged and lay down on her lounger. “Ahhh,” she breathed out in happiness. She had the perfect angle, where the sea still lapped in the bottom of her vision, but the vast sky filled up most of it with deep azure. Coconut trees peeked over the top, swaying in the wind. “How are we ever going to leave this?” she said. “Even for Florida?”

  “I say if we do as well every subsequent year as we have done this year, we’ll make Grenada an every October thing.”

  “Don’t even tease me like that,” said India. “And then maybe we could build a little house out here. You know, like those tiny wooden ones by the roadside we saw? Just something small, with a nice big garden, and we’ll plant bananas and have grapefruit trees and everything. And we’ll stay there whenever we don’t have something to investigate.”

  Xavier laughed, delighted. “That sounds like a good dream. What about our rentals back in Florida?”

  “Well, we could pack those in and just live in hotels, maybe? I mean, not all our cases will be anywhere near Benton Point. So it’s best we have the flexibility to move around.”

  Xavier put his hands under his head, more relaxed than India had seen him in ages. “Living in hotels half the year, on the islands half the year? Sounds like a major lifestyle upgrade.”

  “You bet. And because we’re not buying some big old expensive villa, like you know the ones we saw on the way, it won’t be a lot of money, I’m sure. Building a tiny little wooden house, like the size of mine now? I bet it’s less than ten thousand dollars.”

  “If after this week, we still feel that way, and then we get home and in a few months’ time we keep thinking about it, maybe we could look into it for real.”

  If it was India alone, she’d have jumped right in to asking Fitzgerald about land prices and building costs and a thousand questions. Like she’d wanted to jump right in with private investigating. Sometimes it felt like torture to wait for Xavier, Mr Cautious, Measured and Sensible, to agree, but she was learning to be a bit more patient and he more spontaneous.

  Fitzgerald reappeared in a few minutes with two beer bottles under his arm and a juice in a glass bottle for India. “Got what you wanted,” he said, sitting on the spare lounger Xavier had laid out. “This, my dear, is golden apple juice.” He used a bottle opener on his keyring to pop the top off the juice bottle, then handed it to India.

  “Golden apple?” India asked. “What’s that? Like regular apples, but gold?”

  “No,” Fitzgerald said, popping off the tops of the beer bottles. “It’s a totally different fruit. I can’t really explain it, but there’s some around the hotels. We’ll pick some from the tree and eat.”

  “Mmm, it’s nice,” India said, having taken a sip.

  Suddenly Fitzgerald’s demeanor changed. “What the hell you want?” he barked in a voice so rough it made India jump. Both she and Xavier saw he was staring behind them and they turned to see the fisherman walking up to them. He wore what looked like Nike running shorts and a string vest. His head was shaved and his lean, muscular body was of medium tan complexion.

  “You must be so rude?” the man said, addressing Fitzgerald but cracking a sly smile at India and Xavier. India took a dislike to him immediately.

  Fitzgerald took a swig of his beer, leaning back on the lounger and trying to look relaxed, though India could see the tension. “What you come to hawk today? How you plan to harass us?”

  “I not selling nothing,” the man said. India thought she could smell alcohol on him, mixed with the sea water scent. “Just to say hello.”

  “Well, hello,” Fitzgerald said.

  India and Xavier both said, “Hi,” politely.

  Fitzgerald tapped against his bottle with impatience. “Anything else, Tony?”

  “No.”

  “Bye, then.”

  Tony gave them a wave and a smile, then headed back to his boat.

  “Sorry about that,” Fitzgerald said. “He really bothering me because he keeps trying to sell things on the beach when it’s not allowed. I mean, if you’re selling proper artisan work, craftswork and things, that’s one thing. But he’s selling cheap plastic trash imported for China, that nobody wants. He doesn’t have a vendor’s license. He barely even fishes anymore. It’s just going around from place to place buying trash and trying to sell it. But he’s always been like that.”

  India couldn’t resist delving a little deeper. “You’ve known him for a long time?”

  “Oh, yes,” Fitzgerald said. “He was notorious in my grandma’s town, even as a young boy. For conning people and being a general nuisance. He threw a stone at my back when I was nine years old and ever since then we’ve never been friendly.”

  That reminded India of a girl in her school back in Wisconsin. Emily Tanner. She was always telling lies, and had once stolen the teacher’s pen and blamed it on India, who subsequently had three after school detentions for it. When India had found out and confronted Emily, she’d got a strong kick to the shins. India hadn’t retaliated, which she always regretted, and enmity had hung in the air between them like smog ever since.

  “Did you throw a stone back?” India asked, hoping he’d been more brave than she was.

  Fitzgerald laughed. “No. My grandma was a very religious woman and she told me to be Christ-like and turn the other cheek.”

  “That’s what my parents would have told me, too,” Xavier said.

  They settled into silence for a few minutes after that, all taking satisfying sips of their cool drinks and enjoying the sea breeze.

  “So, you guys have any children?” Fitzgerald asked.

  India and Xavier both laughed.

  “No, no,” India said.

  Xavier sounded almost scandalized. “We’re not even married yet.”

  Fitzgerald grinned and raised his eyebrows. “Yet, you say? Sounds like something’s on the horizon.”

  “Not yet,” Xavier said hurriedly. Then he rushed to change the subject. “Do you have any kids, Fitzgerald?”

  India couldn’t help but feel a little offended. They had been dating for four years, and had told each other many times they knew they were ‘the one’. But not so much as a peep of a proposal. Knowing Xavier, there probably wouldn’t be for another twenty years, she thought, somewhat bitterly.

  “I have three girls,” Fitzgerald said. “Rosie, Danielle and Sheba. With my wife as well, I am tota
lly outnumbered by females!”

  They went on to chat a little further about their respective lives. Fitzgerald’s oldest daughter was just going into secondary school, while his youngest was in nursery. He’d been a banana farmer when he’d come out of school, but hadn’t found the money that good, so got a loan to become a bus driver. Then he’d switched over to taxis, because he got bored of driving the same route over and over every day.

  He listened with interest when India and Xavier told him about their new private investigating business. Thus far they’d only had one case, but a wildly successful one. A man was suspected of embezzling funds from his Florida company at the top level. To their surprise they snagged the contract, and the culprit, and were paid a handsome bonus on top of their fee. Hence the trip to Grenada. Fitzgerald nodded, drinking it all in.

  Eventually, the sun began to set, throwing fuchsias and purples and golden glowing streaks across the sky.

  “My gosh, is that the time already,” Fitzgerald said, looking at his watch. “You two are interesting people, for sure. I need to get home now. I’m back before dawn tomorrow to bring some of the staff up here, then I’m driving a group trip down to the lava pits.”

  “Sounds like a busy day,” India said.

  “Indeed. If you want, we can walk back up together. You’ll go to the restaurant for dinner tonight? I can show you where it is.”

  Xavier practically jumped off his lounger. “I’m starving.”

  “Like Marvin,” India said, giggling. “Me too. I can’t wait to see what they have to eat here.”

  ***

  “I’ll have the stew chicken, with pumpkin mash and callalloo, please,” India said. She’d already picked out the nutmeg ice cream for dessert.

  Xavier closed his menu. “And I’ll have the fish roti with salad and fries. Thank you.”

  India sipped her water as the waiter hurried away to put their order in with the kitchen. She had never been in such a picturesque place. The restaurant was even higher up on the hill than their gorgeous purple cottage, and with the open walls, they had an almost 360 degree view of the island, with hills and valleys and farms and forests all joining together and meeting the sea at beaches and cliffs. The sunset was beginning to fade, and the glowing orange sun was close to dipping under the horizon, so their view would soon fade out. But streetlights were beginning to illuminate like tiny little dots around the landscape below, and fairy lights were strung up on the restaurant’s ceiling.