by Melissa Good
“Waterproof,” Dar agreed, picking up the bottle from the dresser. “I slather you, you slather me?”
“You’re on,” Kerry replied. “Then let’s go find some biscuits.
I’m starving.”
“With or without clothing?”
“Dar.”
“Heh heh.”
KERRY FOLLOWED DAR out onto the beach, feeling her stride change as they moved from the wooden boardwalk into the sand.
“Ah, nothing like coming out to the islands to get some really exotic cuisine,” she commented.
Dar chuckled. “I thought the bagels were pretty good.”
“They were,” Kerry agreed. “I just never figured on coming to St. Johns, AVI for bagel and lox.”
“Playing to the marketplace.” Dar guided her down toward where the windsurfing boards were stacked. “You want to stretch out for a few minutes, or start the torture now?”
“Tch.” Kerry bumped her. “Hey, if you really don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”
Dar’s lips quirked into a smile. “Nah,” she said. “I just like spending time under the water more than skating on top of it. I’ll live.”
Kerry eased in front of her as they reached the kiosk, meeting the friendly grin of the man behind it with one of her own. “Two.”
She indicated herself, then Dar, then handed him her credit card.
“We’ve done this before.”
He took them through the safety drill anyway, Kerry noted.
Possibly because he’d heard tourists claim bogus experience before.
She listened attentively, checking out the rig to make sure there wasn’t anything new or unusual on it. They’d windsurfed several times before—at the island, and the last time they’d gone to Key West. Kerry had really enjoyed it, though it had only been the last time that she’d been able to truly master the mast without getting pulled butt over teakettle by the wind. “Thanks.” She acknowledged the end of the instructions and took hold of the crossbar. “Ready?”
Dar finished inspecting her board, then nodded. “Ready.” Side by side, they moved into the shallow, crystal clear water and headed for the deeper sections. “Not that much wind today,” Dar Terrors of the High Seas 113
observed.
“Enough.” Kerry felt the breeze flutter her hair. They were both dressed in shortie wetsuits, and she was looking forward to getting into deeper water because the neoprene was getting pretty warm in the sun. It had taken her time to get used to wearing the substance, and to the smell of it. The wetsuits fit snugly, zipped up the back, and after she’d taken the time to break hers in, it had gotten pretty comfortable. They did tend to squeak a bit when dry, though, and unless you were in the water, they were capable of sweating pounds off you if you weren’t careful.
Their suits were mostly black, but Kerry’s had purple shoulders and arms, and a flash of bright orange down each side.
Dar’s, in addition to being older and more broken in, had a soberly gray yoke with dark blue piping around her neck.
They reached deeper water and Kerry took the opportunity to duck under the waves, letting the ocean’s cool penetrate her suit and cool her off. She stayed like that for a moment, then emerged, shaking her hair out of her eyes and spraying water across the crystal green, shimmering surface.
“Be careful.” Dar gave her a pat on the behind, as she moved away a little and prepared to get on her board.
“Yes, Mom.” Kerry splashed her. “You be careful, too. Don’t fall on a jellyfish like last time.”
Dar stuck out her tongue, then boosted herself up onto her windboard and got her feet set into the pockets, before she reached down and raised the sail. The wind caught the nylon at once and filled it with a fluttering rustle. “Last one down the beach has to buy the beer,” she yelled back.
“You skunk!” Kerry scrambled up onto her board, catching her balance carefully before she attempted to pull up the hinged sail.
That was the toughest part, really. Once it was up, you could use your weight to keep it up, but pulling it against the drag of the sea and the wind made Kerry really glad she’d spent the extra time in the gym recently. “When I catch you, you’re sunk! Hear me!!”
Dar’s laughter floated back.
“You laugh now, Dixiecup.” Kerry felt the wind fill her sail, and the water started to slide by under her. “If I win, you’re gonna owe me a lot more than beer!”
THE BEACH BAR was an open, tiki type structure, with a bar top made of a slice of wood taken right out of the heart of some native tree. Dar and Kerry entered from the beach side and settled on stools next to each other in the moderately busy place.
The bartender leaned on the other side of the bar from them.
“Can I get something for you?”
114 Melissa Good Dar paused in the midst of unzipping her wetsuit. “Get the lady a nice, cold beer.” She indicated her companion. “Pina colada for me,” she added. “Since I’m buying.”
“Heh.” Kerry smirked. She pulled down the zipper on her wetsuit and peeled off the upper part, letting it drape down over her lower body. They were both wind and sunburned, and lightly dusted with sand collected on the walk up from the beach. Kerry rested her arms on the bar and reveled in the sensation of being a true beach rat, if only for a moment. “If you have anything amber on draft, that would be great,” she told the bartender.
“Gotcha.” The boy grinned at her and turned back to the taps.
Dar pulled down her wetsuit and adjusted the strap on the swimsuit she was wearing underneath. “I shoulda known I didn’t have a chance if there was beer in the deal.” She ran both hands through her damp hair and grinned. “What was that hopping about, anyway?”
Kerry stretched out her arms, feeling a pleasant ache in her shoulders. “I thought I saw a dolphin,” she confessed with a chuckle. “I didn’t want to hit it. Felt like I was on a bucking horse for a minute there, though.”
“Ahh.” Dar glanced up at the menu. “You up for a burger?”
Kerry heard her stomach growl at the mere suggestion. It was late afternoon, and breakfast seemed a very long time ago. “Sure.”
She grinned at the frosty mug the bartender plunked down in front of her and tugged it closer, then took a sip. It was nutty and very cold, and she sighed happily as Dar ordered them both lunch.
“What a great day.”
Dar was busy chewing the pineapple from her drink. She swallowed and turned toward Kerry. “That was a lot of fun,” she admitted. “I can see why you want one of the motorized ones.”
“Oh, yeah!” Kerry sat up and mimed holding the control rod.
“Vroom! Vroom!”
“Wild woman.” Dar offered her the cherry from her drink.
“Here.”
Kerry took the fruit neatly between her teeth and plucked it from its stem. “No fair.” She sucked the cherry and rolled it around in her mouth. “I don’t have one to give you.”
Dar’s eyes twinkled wickedly, and Kerry realized what she’d just said. She chewed and swallowed the cherry, then stuck her now reddish-colored tongue out at Dar. “Of course, you’ve always had mine anyway.”
“Ahem.” Dar cleared her throat slightly, glancing around as her skin turned a fraction of a shade darker.
Kerry lowered her voice, smothered a chuckle. “Oh, Lord.
Don’t tell me I just made you blush.”
“I’m not blushing.” Dar reassembled her dignity. “It’s Terrors of the High Seas 115
sunburn.”
“Uh huh.” Kerry snickered. “I see that blush.”
“It’s not a blush.”
“Heh.”
Dar rested her elbow on the bar and half turned on her stool, assuming a seductive look as her eyes slowly, lazily made their way from the tips of Kerry’s toes up to her top of her blonde head. By the time she hit Kerry’s chest, it was bright pink.
“Now that,” Dar met her eyes, lengthening the words out to a Southern drawl
, “is a blush.” She reached over and put her finger on Kerry’s nose, which wrinkled as her lover couldn’t prevent herself from smiling.
“You’re such a troublemaker,” Kerry sighed.
“You started it.” Dar turned around and took another sip of her drink as they watched their pasteurized, processed milk product and half pound of chopped animal protein become a pair of nicely cooked cheeseburgers, accompanied by something called island fries. Dar inspected one and found it to be a French fry with a coating of spices and coconut. “Mm.”
Kerry centered a slice of tomato on the top of her burger and placed lettuce over that, then dabbed some ketchup and mayonnaise on the bun before she replaced it. She was about to pick it up and take a bite when motion caught her attention from the corner of her eye. “Uh oh.” She nudged Dar in the ribs.
Dar looked up, pausing in mid-munch as she spotted the small group of people walking across from the docks. Three women and two men, their clothing in some disarray, were being escorted by two policemen. They seemed very agitated, and one of the men had his arm around one of the women in a protective attitude. “Huh.
Wonder what that’s all about?”
The bartender nudged one of the waitresses, who had just come to pick up a bar order. “Another one?”
“Yeah.” The girl shook her head. “Crazy pirates. Devils, I think.” She picked up her tray and walked off.
Kerry leaned forward, projecting her voice. “Pirates?”
The bartender jumped a little, then turned. “Oh, it’s nothing, ma’am. We were just—”
“Just not wanting to scare us, yes, but what about the pirates?”
Kerry interrupted.
He looked like he’d been caught in headlights that rarely appeared on St. Johns. “Ma’am…” His eyes shifted around, but most of the patrons were eating at tables; Dar and Kerry were the only ones on that side of the bar. With a second careful look, he sidled over. “We’re not supposed to talk about it,” he explained.
“Sure,” Dar said. “You don’t want to scare off the tourists.”
“Yeah.” The boy grinned. “Glad you understand.”
116 Melissa Good
“We’re not tourists,” Kerry smiled at him, “so don’t worry about it. Tell us about the pirates.”
Reassured, the bartender leaned on his elbow near them. “Been six hijackings this month,” he told them. “Boats comin’ in, they get pulled over by these guys, and whap. No more boat, no credit cards, no cash; you name it.”
Dar and Kerry exchanged glances. “Wow,” Kerry said finally.
“No wonder you don’t want it to get out.”
“Big money, you know?” The boy shrugged. “They just been lucky. Nobody’s got hurt so far.” He looked up as his name was called. “S’cuse me.”
Kerry let her wrists rest on the bar. “Good grief, Dar!”
Dar watched the group cross into the resort building, a concerned look on her face. “How in the hell can they not tell people?” she said in outrage. “There should have been a goddamned travel advisory at least!”
“Six hijackings in one month?” Kerry shook her head in disbelief. “I know it’s tough on the economy, but…Jesus!”
Dar interlaced her fingers and leaned her chin against them.
Her eyes flickered rapidly over the interior of the bar, a sudden intensity to her demeanor that had been absent moments before, yet very familiar to Kerry. “Those people could have been us.” She frowned.
“Well,” Kerry took a bite of her burger, “it almost was, Dar, except it was you they were chasing, and you don’t put up with pirates, right?”
“Mmph,” Dar muttered. “Doesn’t make sense. That guy’s too public to be a pirate, and Charlie said…” She stopped speaking for a moment. “What was he trying to say?” she continued softly.
“Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this guy’s really running the pirates.”
Kerry nibbled a fry. “Why?” she asked. “Dar, if that data is right, this guy’s worth millions. Why run a bunch of boat hijackers in the Caribbean? I mean, yeah, okay—the boats are worth a lot, but can you imagine what it takes to do one over so you could sell it?
And how much cash or jewelry could these guys be carrying anyway? It doesn’t add up.”
Dar scowled.
“Well, it doesn’t,” Kerry murmured.
“I know, I know,” Dar said. “But what are the odds that we get chased down by someone who isn’t part of the lowlife scum chasing down other expensive boats in the area?”
“Hm.” Kerry sighed. “Yeah, that is kind of a coincidence.” She lifted her mug and took a few swallows. “Do you think we should tell the police about what happened, though? Especially since we know who did it?”
Terrors of the High Seas 117
Dar took a few minutes to finish off her cheeseburger before she answered, which also gave her time to consider the question. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “If the word’s out not to tell anyone, how reliable are the police?”
“Maybe they’re not the ones who are putting the lid on.”
“Maybe,” Dar murmured. “If we do tell them, then what? We’re not going to press charges, not out here at any rate.”
“He could buy them off anyway,” Kerry replied with a hard-earned skepticism. “But at least if the police know, and if they are really trying to find these guys, they’ll have the information.”
“Would it make you feel better?” Dar queried. “Telling them?”
Kerry nodded, then her lips quirked a bit. “Besides, while we’re telling them what happened to us, maybe we can get them to tell us what’s going on.”
Dar’s eyebrows lifted and she gave Kerry an approving look.
“Good point,” she conceded.
Kerry blew on her nails, then buffed them on her bare shoulder.
“Besides, they have something else in common,” she added seriously, “those guys and the pirates. According to our friend the bartender, no one got hurt in the hijackings.”
“Just like with us,” Dar mused. “Once they had the boats, they could have just killed the owners.”
Kerry nodded. “Not left any witnesses alive,” she said. “Who knows, Dar, maybe this guy’s got some angle on all this. Maybe he…” Her imagination kicked in. “Maybe he’s taking these boats, revamping them, and selling them for twice what they’re worth to the same guys buying that art stuff from him.”
“Hm.” Dar sucked on her straw as she considered the possibility. “It would be the right market,” she said. “More money than brains.”
Kerry chuckled. “You know, I’ve got relatives like that,” she said. “In fact, you’ve met most of them.” A ripple traveled through her at the words, as she recognized a certain sense of distance on hearing them. She realized that the rawness she’d felt over her father’s death and the ugliness she’d faced with her family afterward were easing.
“S’okay.” Dar gazed at her quietly. “You’ve met my contributions to the four-bit gene pool, too.”
True. Impulsively, Kerry reached across the top of the bar and clasped Dar’s hand, squeezing it briefly then letting it go. “Our family doesn’t have that problem. Even our dog is a genius.”
Dar chuckled. “I’ll remind you of that the next time she steals your socks.” She glanced around the bar. “You done?”
Kerry nodded. “Let’s go find some trouble.” She slid off the stool and followed Dar out of the tiki bar, toward the main resort building.
118 Melissa Good DAR UNLOCKED THE door to their room and pushed it open.
“Might as well get changed first,” she commented. “I hate talking to cops in a sandy wetsuit.”
Kerry slipped past her and walked right out onto the porch, stripped completely out of her wetsuit, and left it on one of the chairs, inside out. “Give me yours and I’ll rinse it,” she called back over her shoulder.
“Sure.” Dar pulled off the neoprene suit and slung it over her shoulder, th
en she stopped and looked around, warned by a faint prickling of her senses. The room was neat, as they’d left it, only the freshly made bed an indication that the maids had been in to tidy up. Neither she nor Kerry tended to leave things laying out, and before they’d left, they’d both tucked things away either in the drawer or in their bags. So, nothing was out of place. And yet…
Dar frowned, then looked up as Kerry stuck her head back inside.
“Here.” She walked over and handed her the wetsuit. “Something’s bugging me about this place.”
Kerry ducked outside, then eased her entire body back in the room, standing inside and watching Dar curiously. “What is it?”
Dar turned in a circle. “I’m not sure.” Her eyes swept the room, searching for whatever it was that was bothering her. Nothing was missing; everything was right where she’d left it, including her laptop sitting on the table, its theft warning label bold on the outside.
Curious, she walked over and flipped up the top, breaking the log-in sequence and rattling off a series of commands to the operating system. No, the machine hadn’t been touched since they’d left. It wasn’t the computer; it wasn’t their things… Then she realized that it wasn’t something visual at all. Her nose twitched, and the alien scent she’d detected came back to her as her mind tried to identify it. “You smell that?”
Kerry stepped inside and shut the outside door. “Smell what, hon?”
Dar waved her hand vaguely. “In the room. Something that isn’t us.”
Resisting the urge to walk over and check Dar for fever, Kerry dutifully sniffed at the air. “Well, I can smell salt water, neoprene, and sunscreen. I guess that’s us, right?”
Dar nodded.
Kerry walked around near the bed. “Sorry, Dar. I don’t…” She paused. “Wait, you mean that sort of roseish, alcoholy kind of smell?” It seemed vaguely familiar, but nothing immediately popped into her mind as to why.
“Yeah.” Dar circled near the dresser. “It’s strongest here,” she stated positively.
“What is it?” Kerry asked. “It’s not cleaning solution; I know Terrors of the High Seas 119
