Fallen Mangrove (Jesse McDermitt Series Book 5) (23 page)

Quickly, I pulled out the chart from the cabinet under the helm and unrolled it across the wheel. “Water’s deepest on this side, but the three-foot line is still twenty feet from shore. The wind’s out of the south, so I’ll nudge the bottom, drop the anchor, and pull back ten or twenty feet. Doc, go unstrap the Zodiac. Bourke, the engine and gas tank are under the ladder down in the engine room. Deuce, grab a few earwigs from under the bunk.”

By the time I’d dropped the anchor and pulled back, setting it in the shallows, Doc had the inflatable in the water and was walking it by the painter to the transom door.

While he and Bourke were mounting the engine, Deuce came out of the cabin and tossed one of the little communication devices up to me. I put it in my ear and turned it on. As the three men climbed into the Zodiac, I heard Deuce say over the earwig, “Com check.”

The three of us answered back as Bourke started the little outboard and went racing off toward the island. A few seconds later, he shut off the outboard and raised it out of the water, coasting forward until the boat beached about ten feet from the skiff.

“Hey, mister,” I heard Deuce shout. “Are you all right?” The man on the boat didn’t move. Not that we expected him to. I was watching through the binoculars and could see that he was only wearing a pair of khaki shorts. A light blue shirt and some other black clothing, maybe a jacket, were laying on the casting deck.

Doc got to the man first, moving around to the upwind side. He checked his neck for a pulse, but even from here it was obvious the man was dead. He had long blond hair and his face was turned my way. His skin was pale and his empty eye sockets stared at everything and nothing at all.

“He’s dead,” Doc confirmed. “Skin’s splotchy and blistered and it looks like a sea bird or three have been nibbling at him. They always go for the eyes first.”

Bourke picked up his shirt and checked the pockets, then set it back down. Then he picked up what I’d thought to be a black jacket and held it up in the breeze. “Is that a woman’s dress?” I asked.

Turning it inside out, he examined the label. “Yeah, an expensive one, too. Badgley Mischka, size two.”

Deuce was checking out the boat aft and said, “Ignition’s still on and the gas tank is bone dry. The prop’s dug into the sand and nearly worn off. He beached at a good clip and left the motor running, engaged.”

“Anything under him?” I asked.

Doc lifted the dead man by the hair until he was nearly upright, then both he and Bourke turned away, retching.

“His package is hanging out of his shorts and crabs have eaten half of it!” Bourke exclaimed between retches.

I grabbed the mic and turned the VHF radio to channel sixteen. “This is motor vessel
Gaspar’s Revenge
calling the Royal Bahamas Police with an emergency.”

A second later a voice came over the radio. “Royal Bahamas Police. What is the nature of your emergency?”

I told him where we were and that we’d found a dead body on a boat, beached on the northernmost island of Parrot Cays. He asked if I was sure he was dead, so I described how he looked.

“We have a police boat heading out of Marsh Harbour right now. They should be there in less than thirty minutes. Please remain at the scene,
Gaspar’s Revenge
.”

Awesome reaction time
, I thought. “You guys see what you can and get back to the boat,” I said. “Local LEOs are on the way, ETA twenty-five minutes.”

They searched the body and found a few Bahamian dollars and coins, but no identification. Then they searched the whole boat, being careful not to touch anything, before moving back to the Zodiac. Bourke started it and they were back on board well before the cops got close enough to see us. I’ve had to deal with local cops enough to know that they really don’t like anyone, especially outsiders, even getting close to a crime scene.

“Only the dress,” Bourke said. “No other sign that a woman was aboard. Maybe she fell overboard in just her underwear.”

“Or maybe she wasn’t wearing any,” offered Doc. “The dress was a halter-type thing, so no bra.”

The police boat came alongside and shut down their big outboard engines. The two officers on board grabbed our railing, the one that was riding passenger wearing the stripes of a Sergeant on his immaculate uniform. He first looked over at the body on the skiff, then looked up to where we all sat on the bridge and said, “Have you disturbed the body in any way?”

“No, Sergeant,” I replied, climbing down from the bridge. “The guy on the radio said to stay put, so we just dropped anchor.”

The boat’s pilot, a black man in an equally sharp uniform, tied a line from their boat to the port cleat and was talking in low tones on the radio, which was turned way down.

“Do you mind if I come aboard, Captain?” the Sergeant asked in the singsong accent of the islands.

Knowing that it really didn’t matter if I minded or not, I nodded. “Sure thing, come aboard.”

He stepped across the gunwale and I offered him my hand. He took it and said, “I’m Sergeant Cleary. What’s your name, Captain?”

“Jesse McDermitt, out of Marathon, Florida.”

“How long ago did you find di body?”

“We were just coming into the harbor for fuel,” I replied. “It looked like the boat had run aground, so I stopped to help. When the guy didn’t respond, I looked through the binoculars and could tell he was dead, so I called you guys. Couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes before I called.”

“And how long have you been in di islands?”

“Came through customs on Nassau yesterday evening,” I replied, knowing that he’d probably already checked this before getting out here. “We refueled there and arrived on Elbow Cay early this morning. We’re staying at Crystal Waters, just south of here.”

“Why didn’t you clear customs in Bimini, if you came from Florida?”

“There was a bit of a storm and they advised me that the approach was rough and I should continue to Nassau.”

Another police boat was slowing as it approached and went straight to the skiff and the body. There were three black men aboard, two in police uniform and one older man wearing a plain white dress shirt and black tie.
Probably a Detective
, I thought.

“It’s him,” the other officer said to the Sergeant after hanging up the radio mic. “At least it’s his skiff.”

“You know the guy?” I asked the Sergeant.

“I know who owns the boat,” he replied, looking back over his shoulder at the corpse on the skiff. “My kid brudda, James.”

“The price has gone up,” Jose Reynolds said into the phone. “And I’m taking full control of anyone you send over here. You guys don’t know a whit about what’s going on.”

“I told you he was dangerous,” Nick Maggio replied. “You chose to ignore my warning and got sloppy. I have four people on their way, professionals. I’m very sorry about Mister Lopez. I lost a man, also. The four men coming to meet you will be led by a man named Richard Michaels. If you and your people decide to stay on the job, there will be a bonus when this is over. As to who is in charge, you can take that up with Mister Michaels when he arrives.”

“How much of a bonus?” Reynolds asked, the two women listening closely.

“Five percent, when the treasure is recovered and brought back here. Now, tell me. How did you end up in the same hotel as Madic and his two men?”

“They checked in a few minutes after we did,” Reynolds replied. “They didn’t see us, but we saw them. We’re in adjacent second-story rooms, and we watched the older man and his two bodyguards go into one of the beach cottages. After a minute the two men came out. I closed the curtains so they couldn’t see in. They walked right past our rooms and are in the two rooms next to ours. One of them is on the front patio, I assume watching over the older man’s cottage.”

“And Madic saw your faces at the restaurant,” Nick said. “You’ll have to get out of there somehow, find another place. When you do, I’ll let Mister Michaels know where you are and you can bring him up to date. With McDermitt’s people numbering twice what we originally figured on and being well armed, we’ve decided to take a different approach. Michaels is going to capture one of them and hold them until the others deliver the treasure.”

“I’ll call you back,” Reynolds said and ended the call.

“You heard?” he asked the two women.

“I had my head turned,” Faye Raminez said. “The other night in the restaurant? Madic and his two men never saw me and Gary.”

“That’s right,” Bianca Garcia said. “Your backs were to him. He only saw me and Jose. What do you have in mind?”

A few minutes later, after Faye had changed and stuffed her clothes and running shoes into her bag, she was ready. Reynolds and Bianca went through the interior door to the adjacent room, further from the two bodyguards’ rooms. Faye stood at the exterior door, looking through the little peephole. The large man was standing on the balcony, looking out toward the cottages. Even though he was wearing a sports coat, she could see the muscles flex as he moved. She could also see the slight bulge under his left arm where she was certain he carried a gun.

Faye stepped back from the door, put on a pair of oversized sunglasses, took a deep breath, and tossed her hair over her shoulders. She opened the door and stepped out, turning straight toward the bodyguard and nearly running into him as he straightened and turned toward her.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were standing there.” Then, smiling and lowering her sunglasses slowly to the tip of her nose so the man could see her dark, smoky eyes, she said. “You certainly are a big man.”

Then she slowly walked past him, allowing a little more than the normal sway to her wide hips. She was wearing a blue bikini with a pair of very short cut-off jeans and three-inch heels. Ridiculous attire for going to the beach, but perfect for getting a man to take his eyes off of what he’s supposed to be doing. After four steps she looked back at the man who was staring after her, unabashed lust written all over his face. She smiled as she slowly lowered her sunglasses again and saw Jose and Bianca leave the corner room and disappear around the corner. They planned to meet up later at Turtle Hill Villas, just a little way down the road. Jose and Bianca were taking the road and she was to make her way there on the beach.

Half an hour later, Reynolds and Bianca were in a three-bedroom villa. It was only a five-minute walk from the lodge they’d barely escaped. Fortunately, September is considered the slow season and there were rooms available just about everywhere through a quick Internet search.

“She should be here already,” Reynolds said.

“Do you think those men caught her?” Bianca asked in her clipped Puerto Rican accent. “Maybe they did see her at the restaurant.”

Reynolds checked his watch. Maggio’s men were probably already on the ground and heading to the ferry on Great Abaco. He took out his phone and called Nick Maggio as Bianca disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

“We’re at Turtle Hill Villas,” he said into the phone when Nick answered, “just half a mile south of the docks. But we may be down to just two.”

“What happened?”

“We assumed Faye hadn’t been seen by them since her back was turned at the restaurant. She decoyed the bodyguard and allowed us to get out unseen.”

“They caught her?”

“Maybe,” Reynolds replied. “I don’t know. How soon will your men get here?”

“They were just boarding the ferry before you called,” Nick replied. “I’ll let them know where you are. They should be there in thirty or forty minutes. How well do you know her?”

“Not well,” Reynolds said, closing the door to the bedroom that Bianca had gone into. “No great loss. She came to work for my mother just two months ago.”

“They held you guys all this time?” Julie asked once we’d returned and settled into the living room.

I was getting a bottle of water from the fridge and replied, “When the forensics team came out, they sent us into the harbor so we could get fuel but told us not to leave the dock area. They even had an officer posted there.”

“The dead guy was the brother of the cop that came out to where we were,” Doc said. “He identified the body by a dolphin tat on his back. When the word got out, a bunch of people started gathering at the docks. When they brought the body in an hour later, I overheard several fisherman say they saw the guy leaving last night with a dark-haired woman who’s now presumed missing, a tourist that had been seen around Hope Town Harbour Lodge.”

“You said her dress was found on the boat?” Nikki asked.

“And the dead guy was shirtless with his johnson hanging out,” Bourke said. “Doesn’t take a rocket scientist. The coroner thinks the kid had a heart attack and she fell overboard trying to get to the wheel, which was tied off.”

“They were doing it on the front of the boat while the boat was moving?” Charity asked. “Pretty kinky.”

“Pretty stupid, if you ask me,” I said, shaking my head and taking a stool at the large breakfast bar. “The throttle on the boat was wide open.”

“Anyway,” Deuce said, “the coroner finally placed the time of death at around midnight. The Sergeant asked for a readout from the GPS on the
Revenge
and it showed our arrival here at dawn, so he cut us loose.”

“Well, today’s shot to hell,” Rusty said. Turning to Doc he added, “There’s still enough daylight for me, you and Nikki to get to that first homeowner and get permission.”

“Good idea,” I said. “You guys head out. Maybe we can catch a break and get started on the search in the morning. I’m going down to the boat to think.”

“Think?” Deuce asked.

“Yeah, I think better on the bridge. Something’s been nagging at me all day and I can’t put my finger on it.”

I left and started down the path with Pescador trotting ahead of me. When I got to the boat, I unlocked the hatch and turned off the alarm system. The generator was running quietly and the air conditioning was humming as it moved the cold air through the cabin. There was still a little coffee left and I poured myself a mug, setting the thermos aside while I set up the machine for another run. While waiting for it to brew, I powered up my laptop and connected to the boat’s Wi-Fi.

My former first mate, Jimmy Saunders, is an electronics wizard who set up a satellite internet account for me and turned the whole boat into a hotspot. The Wi-Fi was also connected to the boat’s security system, so I could check it when I wasn’t aboard. I logged onto the security system and checked the alarm history. I could tell at a glance there hadn’t been any unauthorized tampering today, since it’d only been armed and deactivated twice, once while we were sleeping and just now, when we went up to the house. Yesterday showed the same—no access other than myself.

I shut the laptop off, poured my thermos full of Rusty’s new coffee, and headed up to the bridge. As I watched the sun sinking closer to Lubbers Quarters Cay, I sat back at the helm, swiveled it to face the port bench seat, and put my feet up.

This was such an idyllic setting. Beautiful tropical plants lining the shoreline, crystal clear water beneath the hull, and a soft tropical breeze blowing out of the south, gently rustling the coconut palms on the beach.
So why have I been experiencing such a strong sense of dread since we got here?
I wondered.

Suddenly it hit me, like a bowling ball right between the eyes. The woman I saw earlier on the beach. I’d been racking my brain trying to remember where in the Keys I might have seen her. It had to be there, I’d originally thought, because I’d never been to this island before.

Except when we flew over the other day.

The woman on the beach was the same woman that had waved at me and I’d waggled the wings in response. I was sure of it.

I slapped myself on the forehead, then put my coffee in the holder and nearly jumped off the bridge before running up the dock and hill to the house.

“Turn on the TV,” I said. “Deuce, pull up the local news service on your laptop. While you’re at it, pull up the pictures you took on the flyover.”

“What’s up?” Tony asked as he switched on the TV.

“See if there’s a local news channel, Tony,” I replied. “If there is, they’ll be running the story of that kid’s death all day.”

Deuce found the story on the local paper’s website just before Tony found the local news channel. The missing woman was identified as Ettaleigh Bonamy, but they didn’t have a picture. The local news finished the weather forecast and went straight into the top news of the day, a young man who worked at Hope Town Harbour Lodge was dead and a guest of the lodge was missing and presumed dead. They didn’t have a picture of the woman either.

“What am I looking for?” Deuce asked.

“The flyover of that rock out in the water,” I replied. “You took pictures all the way back to the beach. Any shots of the beach itself? Hope Town Harbour Lodge is just south of there.”

“Okay,” he said, clicking through the images on the screen. “That still doesn’t tell me anything.”

“There!” I said. “Back up one and go to full screen.”

The image I’d hoped for came up full screen as the others gathered around. “That middle structure of the three at the top of the frame—can you zoom in on it?”

With Deuce’s super-high-resolution digital camera, you could almost count the grains of sand on the beach. “Get as close up as you can on the woman standing on the deck.”

Deuce dragged a box across the deck and hit enter and the woman came into fairly clear view. “That’s the woman that was on the beach when we left,” Bourke said. “She’s even wearing the same outfit.”

“Okay, Deuce,” I said. “Let’s get Chyrel on the horn and have her hack the Hope Town Harbour Lodge’s registration.”

A minute later, Chyrel’s face appeared on the screen. “Hey, Boss. What’s up?”

“Hi, Chyrel,” Deuce said. “We need you to hack into a hotel registry here on Elbow Cay. It’s called Hope Town Harbour Lodge.”

“Okay, give me just a minute.”

Deuce turned toward me and said, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking when you’re up to your ass in alligators, it’s time to drain the swamp, or get the hell out.”

“Okay,” Chyrel said. “I’m in. What do you want to know?”

“They have three beachfront cabins, or cabanas,” Deuce said.

“They call them cottages. Nice place.”

“Okay, cottages. Since there’s only three, I assume they’re numbered one, two and three, or maybe A, B, and C.”

“One, two, and three,” Chyrel said.

“Who’s in number two?”

“Unoccupied.”

“Makes sense if the cops have it sealed off,” Bourke said.

“Most recent guest?” Deuce asked.

“Ettaleigh Bonamy.”

“Thanks, Chyrel,” Deuce said, snapping his fingers. “Have a good night.”

“Wait a second,” Charity said. “Who’s in the other cottages?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Chyrel said with a grin. “Number one is currently occupied by Valentin Madic.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Number three is his two goons?”

“Nope,” she replied. “A Mister and Missus, Franklin DeMetri, two retirees from the Windy City.”

Chyrel was still grinning. “You should never play poker,” I said. “Give it. What cottage, cabana, or hotel room are they in?”

“Rooms three and four in the hotel.”

“I think it’s time we paid those two a visit,” Rusty snarled.

Chyrel was still grinning ear to ear. “What else you got, Chyrel?” I asked.

“Also in the hotel, in rooms one and two, are none other than Jose Reynolds, Bianca Garcia, and Faye Raminez.”

Deuce grinned up at me. “Up to our asses in alligators, that’s for sure.”

“Thanks, Chyrel,” I said.

Deuce stood and began pacing as he often does when he’s working something out in his head. “We have Reynolds and the two call girls that were following us staying at the same hotel as Madic and his two hired muscle. Madic is staying right next door to a woman who was seen leaving the island last night with the dead guy and is presumed missing, yet turns up right here the next day. Something’s missing.”

“Pull up that surveillance photo of the meeting at Conner’s office,” Tony said.

Deuce sat down and clicked a few keys. The four surveillance photos came up and Tony said, “Isolate the one of the woman getting in the car and the full shot of her from behind.”

After a few more keystrokes, two of the photos disappeared and the other two took up the whole screen. “It’s the woman on the beach,” Bourke and Tony said at once.

“How can you tell?” Charity asked. “You can’t see her face in either picture.”

Bourke looked at Charity over his reading glasses and said, “I know you’d like to believe none of us guys objectify women, but in all honesty we don’t just look at a pretty face. When she was on the beach, one very fine-looking leg was visible under her sarong.”

“That leg,” Tony said, pointing at the photo of the woman getting in the car with her leg sticking out. “The hair’s the same color and they’re the same build, too.”

“Too much coincidence not to be the same woman,” Julie said. “She’s supposed to be missing at sea and was staying in the cottage next to Madic. In actuality, she works for Madic, may somehow be responsible for the death of the island guy, and is now staying down in one of those villas?”

“What I don’t get is how a twenty-something island guy dies of a heart attack,” Nikki said. “Maybe she killed him for some reason.”

“She could cause a heart attack,” Tony said, grinning and pointing at the two pictures. “Heck of a way to go.”

“I think we should just pack it in and get out of the swamp,” Deuce said. “Too damned many alligators.”

“No,” Nikki demanded. “That clue has been in my family for generations, unsolved. We don’t know exactly how much these other people know.”

“And they don’t know how much we know,” I said with a crooked grin. “Right now there’s at least nine of them, counting the three guys at Hole in the Wall, maybe more coming. We know where they are and who they are. If they’re working together, and I don’t believe they are, they know how many we are, but not very much more about us. If they’re not working together, then only Maggio’s crew knows our strength.”

“What makes you think they’re not working together?” Rusty asked. “I mean, they’re staying in adjacent rooms.”

“I don’t know,” I replied, getting up and looking out the kitchen window. “Just a hunch I have and can’t put a finger on. The chance at instant riches brings them out like palmetto bugs when the lights go off.”

As I looked down at the docks, I realized I’d been in such a hurry to get up here that I’d forgotten to lock up the boat. The reminder came in the form of the woman from the beach coming out of the cabin on my boat. “I know how we can find out, though. Rusty, Doc, and Tony, stay here—everyone else, go upstairs. Quick. Ettaleigh Bonamy is coming up the path.”

The others hustled up the stairs as I grabbed four beers from the fridge and we went out on the deck. Hidden from her view by the overhanging trees, I quickly surveyed the deck. Picking a spot in the corner nearest the path, where it was obvious we couldn’t see the boat, the four of us sat down.

“I’m telling you, Rusty,” I said louder than necessary, “it was a marlin or a stingray, definitely a game fish. Not a shark.”

Rusty picked up on my
Jaws
reference and immediately engaged Tony and Bourke in a heated debate about game fishing as the woman approached. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she stopped and looked up, then looked back at the
Revenge
. From her vantage point, it was obvious we couldn’t have seen her sneak onto my boat, so she continued walking up the path, secure in the knowledge that she hadn’t been seen. She was wearing the same yellow one-piece bathing suit, but a solid blue sarong now. Up close she looked even more beautiful. Her jet-black hair fell to the middle of her back and a few strands blew across her face in the light breeze.

Pretending to see her for the first time, I stood up. “Hi, there,” I said, smiling. “Great sunset, wasn’t it?”

“Why, yes, it was,” she replied with just a hint of an accent, pushing her hair back behind her right ear. “I was watching it from down on the beach. Is one of those boats yours?”

“The big one,” I said. “I’m Jesse. Are you staying in one of the villas?”

“Yes,” she replied. “For a few days.”

The other three men had stood up as well. As she approached, I said, “These are my friends, Rusty, Doc, and Tony. Care for a beer?”

She hesitated for a moment then said, “Another time, maybe.”

“Ah, come on, we’re just four harmless fishermen,” I said, studying her face now that she was only a few feet away. Her skin was dark. Not tanned, but sort of a dark olive. Her hair was fine and straight, but it was her eyes that drew me. They were a very dark brown, almost black, and deeper than any eyes I’d ever seen.