Fallen Mangrove (Jesse McDermitt Series Book 5) (24 page)

“Oh, it’s not that,” she said, her facial expression not reflecting any knowledge of anyone else being here. “I’m sure you are all nice gentlemen, but I have some business to take care of.” Then she smiled brightly and said, “But perhaps you’d care to join me for a drink later, Jesse?”

“I’d love to. Where would you like to go?”

“Stop by villa three in an hour,” she said. “We can figure that out then.”

“I didn’t get your name,” I said as she turned and started down the path toward the villas.

“Constance,” she replied, looking back over her shoulder. “Constance LeBeau.”

“Jesse McDermitt,” I replied. “At your service, Miss LeBeau.”

She stopped and turned her head, tossing her long, jet-black hair over her shoulder. Smiling very seductively, she said, “We’ll see.” Then she continued down the path to the villas. The four of us picked up our beers and went inside.

A moment later, Deuce and the others came down the stairs as I pulled the curtains on the east side of the living room.

“You might be right,” Deuce said. “By her response she thinks it’s just the four of you. That, or she’s a very good actress.”

“The bitch was on my boat,” I growled. “I forgot to lock up when I came up here.”

“Tony,” Deuce said. “Get down there and check it out. Covertly.”

“Roger that,” Tony said, grabbing his small bag sitting by the door.

“Are you going to meet her?” Charity asked.

“It’ll look extremely suspicious if I don’t,” I replied. “I don’t think this bunch wants anything more than the treasure. The other group might be pissed at us now that they seem to be a man short thanks to Deuce.”

“Anthony, do we have any of those listening devices left?” Deuce asked.

“Four,” Bourke replied. “The short-range, peel-and-stick units.”

Bourke went over to the line of go bags by the door and brought his back. Opening it, he removed four small boxes. Inside each one was what looked like flattened-out used chewing gum. “These only have a range of one mile,” Bourke explained. “They’re activated when you remove the backing and will stick to just about anything, including cloth.”

“Take a few of those with you when you go to meet her,” Deuce said. “Two can play this game. All you have to do is peel the backing off and stick it under a table or something. When the backing comes off it activates the transmitter and will send a constant feed for six hours.”

Tony came back in just then and said, “There’re two. A constant transmit listening device under the helm and a combination tracker and listening device just above the frame of the hatch inside the hanging closet. Both are activated and both are very sophisticated long-range devices. Nothing like the one before. Want me to deactivate them?”

“No,” I replied. “We don’t want them to know we’re onto them. But people better stop bugging my damn boat.”

Tena Horvac called Madic, who picked up on the first ring. “You have something to report?”

“Your divers have reported that they made initial contact earlier. The tracking device has been installed. A second listening device, also.”

Madic thought for a moment, then said, “There’s only the four of them, right?”

“It appears so,” Tena replied.

“Our people on Chub Cay are ready,” Madic said. “All we have to do is wait for them to find the treasure and leave. The tracker will alert the men on Chub Cay when they get within thirty miles. Still, it would be nice to have some advance notice, to give them a heads up. You said you’ve made contact with the two women divers?”

“Yes,” Tena replied. “They are in the first villa directly below the house and are watching it. However, their view is not very good. Should I have them make further contact, also? To plant listening devices inside the house?”

“They’re both very good at what they do,” Madic responded.

“I thought you’d appreciate their abilities,” Tena said into the phone, with an evil sparkle in her eyes.

“Yes, very much,” Madic said, thinking back. “Have them move to get closer to at least one of them. Not McDermitt or the bar owner. One of the two younger men.”

“I’ll let them know right away. How are things there where you are?”

“Not good,” Madic replied. “Police are everywhere. McDermitt was the one that found the body earlier today. Hopefully the police won’t go to the villas to question them further.”

“I’ll relay that to the divers,” Tena said and ended the call.

She immediately made another call. The voice on the other end was bubbly and cheerful, until Tena spoke. “Mister Madic says to proceed as planned. Try to get close to one of the two younger men. He also said to be alert—a body was found this morning and McDermitt is involved. The authorities may come to the villas to question him further.”

“Consider it done,” Elana Galic responded.

When Elana put down the phone, she sat down next to Sabina Duric on the sofa, tucking her feet up under her. All the lights were off and Sabina had her body twisted over the arm of the couch as she looked through a small telescope on the end table. It was trained up the hill at the big house, but only the top floor and the bedroom side of the first floor were visible. Occasionally, the wind would move some of the trees and she could catch a glimpse of the deck or the living room, but the curtains were drawn there.

“We are to get close to the two younger men,” Elana said.

Sabina kept her eye to the telescope. “That’s too bad. The tall one looked to be more fun. Isn’t one of the younger ones married?”

“It won’t matter,” Elana replied. “He’s miles from home. You know how American men are. Horvac also said to be careful. They found a body this morning and the authorities may come here to question them.”

“There’s someone coming down the path,” Sabina said.

Elana picked up a pair of binoculars sitting on the table. Leaning lightly across Sabina’s hip, she trained them out the window and up the path.

“It’s the tall one, McDermitt,” Elana said. “Is he coming here?”

“I did invite him for a beer.”

They both watched as he passed the villa they were staying in, continuing down the hill. Moving from window to window, making sure to stay in the shadows, they followed his progress to the next villa, where he went up the steps and knocked on the door.

“For a minute, I thought we might have some fun with him anyway,” Sabina said. “He seems to be more interested in the older woman staying alone.”

“Go back to watching the house,” Elana said. “I’ll watch him.”

Sabina went back across the room and took up her position on the sofa, watching the house for any more movement. A light went on upstairs and she saw the fat man pass in front of the window. A moment later, the light went off.

“I think the fat man just went to bed,” Sabina said.

“The tall one has gone inside,” Elana replied. “The woman looked like she was ready to go out for the evening. They must have a date.”

“She’s very beautiful,” Sabina said. “He doesn’t stand a chance.” Elana came back across the room and sat next to Sabina once more.

“Now would be a good time to visit the two younger men,” Elana whispered as she again leaned over the other woman’s hip, looking up at the house, but without the binoculars.

Tracing small circles on Sabina’s exposed thigh, the smaller woman sighed and said, “Perhaps in a little while.”

It was dark when I made my way down the path toward the villas. Passing the first one, I noticed that it was dark. The two women staying there must have decided to go into town. I reached the next two and went to the door of the only one that had lights on. I knocked and after just a moment the porch light came on. A few seconds later, the door opened.

Constance, or Ettaleigh, or whatever her name was stood in the open door, silhouetted by the living room lights behind her. She was wearing a loose-fitting top made of lightweight silk with narrow spaghetti straps. It did very little to block the light behind her, clearly showing the shape of her body beneath it. Below an exposed inch of her tan, flat belly, she wore a pair of tight-fitting black jeans. Standing in heels, she was only an inch or two below my six three. Her long black hair fell down in front of and behind her bare shoulders.

“Mister McDermitt,” she said. “At my service?”

“Miss LeBeau,” I said, bowing theatrically. “If you were serious about going out for that drink, I am.”

She smiled and her dark eyes seemed to smolder. “I was trying to force myself to work,” she said. “Which isn’t easy here. Please, come in.”

She led me into the living room, where a laptop sat open at a desk. On the screen were a number of pie charts and the desk was covered with what looked like business documents.
If she works for Madic
,
maybe she just handles his legitimate business matters
, I thought
. Yeah, and occasionally B and E of people’s boats to bug them.
I couldn’t help but wonder about the dead man, though. Could it be just as it appeared? An overly amorous coupling resulting in a heart attack? Did she panic about the thought of being involved with a much younger man and stage the disappearance?

She gathered up the assorted papers, arranging them into a neat stack and placed them next to the computer, not even attempting to hide any of it.

“My employer insists that I work through my vacation,” she said, by way of an apology for the mess. “It’s okay, though. Our business is nearly complete and I have several more days here. Would you care for a drink?”

“A beer if you have it,” I replied.

“Have a seat,” she said and seemed to glide across the room to the kitchen. “I’m afraid I didn’t buy any beer when I went to the grocery. The bar is well stocked, though.” She moved like a dancer, with very little wasted movement. She opened the refrigerator in the dimly lit kitchen. The light inside caught the profile of her body, showing every detail of her breasts as she bent to get a bottle of wine and set it on the counter.

“I prefer wine, usually. But you strike me as a rum man. They have seen fit to stock quite a few here.”

I sat down in a rattan chair, with plush, tropical cushions, that faced both the kitchen and the exit door. “A dark rum, then,” I said as I watched her pour a glass of wine.

Reaching up to the top cabinet for a tumbler, her shirt rode up, exposing quite a few more inches of dark, flat belly.
Focus, McDermitt
, I told myself.

She carried her wine glass and the tumbler to the bar. “Ice?” she asked.

“Just one,” I replied and she used a pair of tongs and dropped a cube in the tumbler from an ice bucket.

“Let’s see. There’s a couple of dark rums here. Mount Gay or Pusser’s?”

“Pusser’s will be fine,” I replied. She poured two fingers and brought the drinks into the living room, swirling the dark rum to chill it. Handing it to me, she sat on the adjacent sofa, crossing her legs, and took a tiny sip from her wine glass, running her tongue over her lips to gather any stray drops.

“So, I take it you’re a professional fisherman?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re out here for the annual white marlin migration just off the coast,” I lied, taking a long pull on the chilled rum. I looked around the room, trying to decide where to plant the first bug. “My clients are anxious to get out there tomorrow. What kind of business do you do?”

“Exporting,” she replied. “I’m sort of a freelance go-between. The people I am currently contracted to, wish to expand their business here in the islands and I was sent to learn of the viability of their product here. Very boring, actually.”

Taking another drink, I looked around the room. It was decorated similarly to the house we were in, but the tongue and groove walls and ceilings were a slightly darker shade.
Near the desk
, I thought.

“A very nice place to be forced to work in,” I said.

“It does have its advantages at times,” she said with a smile.

I drained my glass and set it on the table. Leaning back in the chair, I felt the rum starting to lighten my head. But the feeling wasn’t exactly right. When Constance took another sip of her wine, her eyes seemed to glow with an inner hunger. I watched as her tongue once more licked the stray droplets from her lips, but the moment seemed to drag out very slowly.

She leaned forward to place her glass back on the table, revealing a good bit of cleavage. Her every move seemed to be catlike in nature. I found myself becoming mesmerized by her eyes, even more so by her other attributes. The excitement I felt just looking at her was almost overpowering.

We made small talk for thirty minutes or so , during which she made me a second drink and I sipped it more slowly. Mostly she talked, because I was having a hard time putting a cohesive sentence together. I was that distracted by her beauty. It seemed that no matter what she said or did, I found it enticing and as the minutes ticked by it seemed she was purposely trying to get me to notice her body. I’d never felt this kind of animal attraction to a woman. Every fiber of my being wanted to tear off her clothes, pick her up, and carry her into the bedroom.

Far in the distance, I heard the distinctive sound of a gun being fired. That immediately brought my mind back into focus. The single shot was quickly followed by another, then a moment later, two more in rapid succession. I could tell they were a different caliber—the first sounded like a small-caliber handgun, with the loud crack of a supersonic round.
Probably a .22 long rifle cartridge in a revolver
, my mind intuitively surmised. The subsequent shots were the deeper booms of larger-caliber handguns like we carried.
Maybe even a .40 or .45
, I thought.

“What was that?” Ettaleigh or Constance asked.

I shook my head to clear it and was instantly on my feet, crossing the room in quick strides to the open sliding door to the deck facing east. I stood beside it, listening for a moment, my hand instinctually going for Pap’s big Colt tucked under my shirt.

“Gunfire,” I replied. “In town.”