Killer Knots (19 page)

Marla stood petrified. How could she help him?

She needn’t have worried. Vail reached up and thrust his thumbs at the man’s eyes. Cursing, Eddie jerked back.

Vail swung his legs up, clamped them around Eddie’s torso, and used the momentum to toss the man over his head.

Leaping to his feet, he stomped his heel onto Eddie’s face.

“Let’s go” he yelled after Eddie went limp.

Blood dripping from the wound on his temple, he weaved toward a slope that headed downhill. They half slid, half stumbled down the steep, slick trail. A muddy depression at its base showed large paw prints that made Marla gulp nervously, especially when the stench of something dead fouled the air.

“Now what?” she said when they halted beside a tree scarred with claw marks. It must have rained recently in this section, because the leaves were dripping wet. She’d forgotten they were in a rain forest, where downpours were frequent events.

“You’re bleeding, Dalton,” Kate said, a look of concern on her face. She seemed none the worse for their adventure, though. Ignoring her own discomfort, she dabbed at her son’s face with her towel.

“That doesn’t matter now.” He brushed her off. “I’ll get cleaned up later. We have to find a way out of here.”

“Y-you didn’t kill that man, did you?” Kate asked in a shaky voice.

“I doubt it. No good son of a bitch.”

“I wish they’d had a car,” Brianna added, taking a long swallow from her water bottle.

“How do you think they got there?” John’s eyeglasses had fogged, and he employed his shirt to clear them.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing.” Wiping sweat from her brow, Marla regarded him. “They may have parked a vehicle out of sight of the shed. We can’t go back to look for it, though. It’s not worth the risk of them coming after us.” She paused. “Do you hear gushing water? We must be near a waterfall.”

Surrounded by dense foliage, she listened to the muted whooshing and the wind creaking through a stand of bamboo. A flash of bright green caught her eye, and she glimpsed a macaw high in the canopy, where sunlight filtered through the branches in swathes of mist.

“Is this the sort of thing you do all the time?” John asked his son. They trudged along in a line.

“Only since I met Marla.”

“Marla is real good at solving crimes, Grandpa,” Brianna proclaimed. “She’s helped Daddy with lots of cases.”

“So have you, muffin. You’ve both earned your deputy badges.” Vail beamed at them proudly.

“Hot dog! I need to get on the ball with Irene. We’re missing all the excitement,” John said to Kate.

“Irene? What does she have to do with anything?” Kate shot back. Her sharp tone could have felled a tree squirrel.

“She’s a real estate agent. I’ve been talking to her about finding a condo in Fort Lauderdale.”

“Oh yes, Marla mentioned that she’s seen you together. I thought you were acquainted through the art world.”

“That, too. If you ever listen to me, you would know these things. We’ve talked about getting a place in Florida.”

Here we go again.
Marla trotted ahead, finding the source of water to be a stream and following it. The others marched behind. Hunger gnawed at her stomach. Their exertion had put her fuel gauge on empty.

“Look, there’s the ocean!” Pushing aside the spiny leaves of a cycad, she peered below at the sparkling sea. Off to the right was a fishing village.

Eager to reach civilization, she led the way down another slope, skidding down the grassy mound in her haste.

Marla worried about Kate, whose breathing had become more labored. John seemed to be in better shape, although his florid complexion indicated the heat and stress were getting to him. Perhaps they should be checked out at the infirmary when they made it back to the ship.

If
they made it back to the ship. Glancing at her watch, she pressed her lips together. Less than thirty minutes to go.

Coated with sand, sweat, and flecks of mud, they approached a whiskered fellow shooing away chickens in his yard at the base of the hill.

“Excuse me,” Vail said with an earnest expression. “We need a quick ride to the port. Is there anyone with a boat we can hire?”

The man grinned, showing gaps in his teeth. “The fishing boats, they be out already, mon. But I can take you in my truck. What you be willing to pay?”

After a brief negotiation, the man chugged around a corner and returned in a rattling pickup truck with peeling paint.

His customers climbed in, and they started off along the bumpy clay road. It was slow going at first, with pools of water from recent rain in low-lying sections. They skirted potholes but continued to bounce ahead while Marla gripped the sides of the truck to maintain her balance. Good thing they hadn’t eaten in a while. They were more likely to get motion sickness here than on the ship at sea.

They passed dwellings painted turquoise, coral, or sand and built on stilts. Stairs led to main floors, open to ocean breezes, with balconies in front. Sloping tin roofs capped the structures and provided protection from heavy rainfall.

A man pedaled by on a bicycle, while to their left, boys played on a makeshift raft offshore in shallow water. Mountain ranges rose in the distance. Leaving town, they sped past a church, an above-ground cemetery, and a coastal stretch of mangroves before the harbor came into sight.

Their driver screeched to a halt in front of the marketplace and across from the port security gate. No more time. The ship was due to raise the gangplank any minute.

Kate and John showed their ID to the guard and charged through the gate. While Vail paid off their savior, Marla followed Brianna into a covered stall.

“We can’t go without buying something,” Brianna said, eyeing a selection of pottery, mugs, magnets, and native art.

“Come on, it’s too late.” Marla’s fingers curled with urgency.

“Just one more minute.
Please
.”

Aware of the seconds ticking by, Marla snatched a painted wood carving of palm trees with
Honduras
scrawled beneath and several bags of roasted coffee beans. Who could resist?

“Okay, I’m ready.” Brianna held a mahogany box and a beaded necklace.

Looking frantic as he caught up with them, Vail cried, “For God’s sake, the ship is about to depart, and you two are shopping?”

“Look at these salad bowls,” Marla told him. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

He growled. “Let’s go.”

“How about a walking stick for our next jungle adventure?”

“Marla…”

Time’s up
.

She paid for their purchases and ran.

The next morning, Marla and Vail decided to leave the ship after all the tour groups for Cozumel had departed. Since it was Sunday, she didn’t want to get into town too early. After eating at the buffet, where she’d consumed a waffle with cherry sauce and whipped cream, they strolled the promenade deck to wear off the calories.

“I’m glad we’re not going on any tours today,” she told her fiancé, striding beside her. “You know how Bob Wolfson owns property in Mexico? And how he and Sandy cruise here every year? I wonder what he does when they’re in town. Sandy seemed to indicate that she went shopping on her own.”

Vail, stiff from his battle the day before, rolled his shoulders. “Let it rest, Marla. We could use a day off from interfering in everyone else’s business.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know who was responsible for our problems yesterday? Bob acted funny when I ran into him on Grand Cayman. He must be covering up something that he doesn’t want us to learn. I’d like to follow him if we catch up to him today.”

“Good for you. Maybe I should have gone along with Mom and Dad to Tulum. I hope Brie likes the Mayan ruins. It’s a long bus ride.”

“I thought they’d be exhausted after trekking through the jungle on Roatan.”

“They paid a hundred and nine dollars apiece for their excursion. Dad wouldn’t cancel.”

Marla’s eyebrows lifted. “That price includes lunch.”

“Yeah, in a box.”

She paused by the railing. “I gave your Dad my Bonine tablets in case they need it for the ferry ride. A smaller boat is bound to be rockier than this big ship.”

As their vessel approached land, she noticed a beacon flashing from a lighthouse. Soon a view of houses popped up along the coast. Although the sun had just risen, cars snaked along a road toward town. Wind whipped her hair, while she noted a Carnival cruise ship sailing a parallel course.

“I told security to report our driver to the Honduran authorities,” Vail said, “but they took that as a joke. We didn’t get any license plate number, and his description fits dozens of men. Besides, we made it back to the ship intact.”

“Barely in time. We’re lucky they waited to raise the gangplank. We could have missed the ship same as Martha did in San Juan. It almost happened to me in St. Maarten.”

“These were not random acts. Someone we know was behind them. Someone who wants us out of the way.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Marla watched as buildings came into sharper view along the shoreline. “Has the FBI been notified about Brooklyn’s disappearance?”

Vail’s mouth firmed. “Who knows? Until the laws change, jurisdiction over cruise ship crimes remains a problem. It’s common for ship’s personnel to call local authorities to deal with serious events. As for murders, forget it. You can’t get forensics people in here before the steward cleans the cabin.”

“I guess the sad lesson is to be as cautious as you are at home.” Her gaze focused. “Look, I see a McDonald’s arch.”

The
Tropical Sun
aimed for a concrete pier where signs faced the waterfront: BIENVENUTO PUNTA LANGOSTA, SENOR FROG’S, and DIAMONDS INTERNATIONAL.

She patted her hair in place. As the ship docked, the breeze lessened. Crystal-blue water stretched out to sea, deepening from royal blue to navy. Warmed by the sun, she thought about changing into shorts but decided to keep on her capris and turquoise top.

They descended to their cabin to freshen up, pack their belongings, and check the
Tropical Tattler
for a departure time.

“Look what this says,” Marla said, reading from the newsletter. “Tropical Cruise Lines has received reports of passengers becoming ill after drinking alcoholic beverages ashore. Please be aware that the contents of drinks in port may be unknown and may be much stronger or contain different ingredients than expected. Tropical Cruise Lines disclaims any responsibility for resulting illnesses or intoxication.” She glanced at Vail. “Great, now they tell us this. I should have known before I sampled that liquor in St. Maarten.”

“Their warning should apply to tap water also, including ice cubes. You don’t want to get Montezuma’s revenge.”

“Is that worse than norovirus?” Marla waved her bottle of hand sanitizer. “Don’t leave home without it.”

Ding dong, ding dong
. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We have a glorious day ahead of us in Cozumel. Those of you departing on tours may descend to the gangplank. May I remind you that the Mexican Agriculture Department forbids you to bring ashore any fresh fruit, vegetables, or dairy products.”

“Hey, I could have used this yesterday,” Marla said, still reading her newsletter. “Twenty minutes of aromatherapy foot massage for forty-five dollars. Maybe I should sign up for one later this afternoon.”

“Unnecessary. My services come a lot cheaper.” Giving her a sexy grin, he waggled his eyebrows.

“Right, like we have time.” She stuffed the newsletter into her bag. They had a busy schedule that evening, too. Chili burgers and Corona beer on deck for a buccaneer fest, followed by a comedy and juggling act in the Meridian Showroom, then their choice of a newlywed game show or 80s Ladies Night before a champagne waterfall in the atrium lobby at midnight.

But she couldn’t think of that now. Setting her shopping goals took precedence.

“Are you ready?” Vail asked, donning his sunglasses.

She grinned. “Ready and armed with my credit cards,” she replied, shouldering her handbag. “Let’s go.”

Trudging along the pier in the blazing morning sun, they passed the Carnival ship and someone’s private yacht before reaching an escalator. Marla searched for quicker access to the street but she didn’t see any. The escalator led upstairs to an outdoor shopping center, Punta Langosta Mall.

“Figures we’d have to stroll by a collection of shops in order to get anywhere,” Vail commented wryly.

“Is that Heidi wearing a coral tank top by Los Cinco Soles?” Marla said, raising on her tiptoes. If so, the blonde had just disappeared inside the souvenir store. Scanning the throng for other familiar faces, she felt a wave of disappointment. Oh well, her tablemates were bound to have taken advantage of the other activities on the island, like snorkeling, which is what Betsy had decided on.

Stores beckoned, tempting her with duty-free liquors, Mexican blankets, onyx chess sets, silver jewelry, and Kahlua-filled chocolates, but she didn’t linger. This might be good for last-minute shopping, but they’d have a bigger selection in town.

Winding their way around, they found a staircase to the lower level. It took them to Avenue Rafael E. Melgar.

“Island tour, lady?” said a fellow on the street tagging after them. Other hustlers tried to run them down, offering driving services.

Vail kept a brisk pace as they passed the Hotel Vista Del Mar on their right. To their left stretched the aqua water, rippling in a light breeze. Radio music blasted from a jewelry store where the door was propped open. A truck rumbled past, competing with the rat-a-tat from a jackhammer and the rapid-fire Spanish spit out from all directions.

Strolling along the smooth pavement, they passed the Habana Cigar Company, advertising HABANOS, UNIQUK SINCE 1492. No need to stop there, but D’Arce Jewelers Internazionale showcased museum-quality silver figurines. Fascinated, Marla glanced at the horse and lion but hastened on when the greeter caught her eye.

Fotomega came next, along with camera supplies and a sign reading CALL HOME, INTERNET PHONE SERVICE. Pizza Hut, Sunglass Island, and Caribbean Diamonds didn’t interest her either.

Crossing an intersection, she skirted a mound of concrete debris piled in the road. Down the side street, a man hauled water bottles from a truck labeled AQUA PURIFICADA CRISTAL, while a sweeper worked his way along the curb with a broom and dustpan.

“Do you see Bob Wolfson anywhere?” Marla asked Vail as they paused by a plaza sporting a fountain with dancing waters and with palm trees ringed by red clay borders. A lady stood outside the open door of El Guerrillero, a souvenir shop where mannequin heads graced the top of a poster advertising hair braids.

“Nope. He may have slept in this morning or gone on a tour. Maybe he’ll show up after lunch.”

She wrinkled her nose, sniffing garbage. “I’d love to find out what he does here.”

“Come inside! Maybe you see something you like!” yelled a store hawker as they resumed their pace. A hot breeze blew off the ocean, ruffling the hairs on their arms.

At the corner with an Aqua Safari store on one side and Good-mark Jeweler on the other, a seven-piece mariachi band played while onlookers gawked. The musicians wore white long-sleeved shirts and black pants with rows of shiny metal studs down the edges. They played beside a utility pole from which hung a blue and yellow sign: GOTTA GO TO GOODMARK JEWELERS. A middle-aged guy stood by filming with his camcorder. His wife watched, her shopping bag bulging more than her belly.

“Isn’t this where the alexandrite stones are?” Vail asked.

Marla studied her port map. “No, that’s Goodmark Gallery at the opposite end. What do I need to see them for?”

He shrugged. “I just thought you might like to learn what they’re worth.”

“Why? I know the gems that I found at Sugar Crest Resort were valuable, but my brother needed them more than me. I can do without seeing them change from red to green in different kinds of light. These are probably from Brazil anyway, not the rare Russian stones.”

“How about this place? You haven’t bought anything yet.” He pointed to D. Montero’s Silver Shop, its front door open to the air, like all the other places.

“Let’s keep going. I want to find a store that sells vanilla. According to what I looked up on the Internet, if it’s really pure extract, the label should say it contains thirty-five percent alcohol. Otherwise it could be the synthetic variety with potentially harmful ingredients.”

After yielding to temptation and visiting Mi Casa for Mexican crafts, Viva Mexico for tequila souvenirs, and Pama Duty Free for brand-name cosmetics and perfume, Marla headed for the Silver Emporium and Diamonds International. She spent more than her budget on a tanzanite necklace, white gold earrings, and silver bracelets for her salon staff. Then she dodged into a huge emporium selling everything from hot sauces, coffee, and vanilla to papier-mâché, pottery, and pewter.

Bewildered by so many choices, she sauntered toward the food section to examine a brown bottle labeled Natural Vanilla. Contents listed were vanilla beans extracted in water, alcohol, and corn syrup. It also said, THIS PRODUCT DOES NOT CONTAIN COUMARIN.

“So is it real or not?” Vail asked, examining a selection of tequila. He seemed fascinated by the worms inside some of the bottles. Holding one bottle upside down, he shook it.

“If I had to guess, I’d say no, but I could be wrong. I wish the countess was here. I’d ask her.”

Her wish came true, although it wasn’t until later, after they’d shopped their way down the avenue. Her arm muscles ached from hauling so many bundles. They took a break for lunch at Palmeras restaurant in a plaza opposite the tender pier and then resumed their trek. The sun warmed her back, making beads of sweat glisten on her forehead. She filled her lungs with the salty sea air.

Opposite the main street, a seawall separated the avenue from the shoreline. Colorfully painted mannequin heads like porcelain carnival figures adorned posts at regular intervals. They reminded her of Mardi Gras masks. In the background, a masted ship sailed by, flags flapping against a sky dotted with cumuli.

“Did I tell you how lucky I am to be with you?” Marla said, turning to Vail. He’d learned to tolerate shopping because it made her happy. In return, she had acquired an enjoyment of parks where he liked to identify the different trees. Next time they took a cruise, she hoped they’d have the opportunity to do more nature excursions. Brianna liked parks too, but she preferred the beach more.

His face crinkled into a smile. “I’m the lucky one to have you. Look at all these fellas giving you the eye as we walk past. They’re envious of me.”

“Truthfully, I’m trying to ignore them.” Their blatant stares made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was because she imagined one of them trying to lure her and Vail down a side street.

Reaching an intersection, she stepped off the curb and glanced to her right. Parked cars lined one shaded side of the crossroad while motor scooters claimed space at the opposite curb. Electric wires draped the overhead space. An ice truck approached, bumping along the uneven pavement.

“Hey, is that the countess coming out of that building over there?” Marla squinted, wondering if she needed prescription sunglasses. She could just make out the woman’s swirl of blond hair, but the way the lady moved gracefully in her heels and the skirt ensemble she wore with a wide-brimmed hat told Marla she’d hit the mark. Even a shopkeeper wouldn’t wear an outfit so formal.

“You’re right,” Vail said as the countess strode in their direction. She appeared to be alone, which struck Marla as odd. Where had her gentleman companion gone? Instead of a small handbag, she carried a large portfolio case snugly under her arm.

“Marla,” the countess said with little enthusiasm when they encountered each other. “I see you and your fiancé have been generously contributing your money to the people of Cozumel.”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing this is our last port. I’ll have to extend my working hours to pay off the bills.”

The elder woman flicked her gaze toward Vail. “
Vraiment
? Then you need to marry, so your amour can buy baubles to circle your neck and clothes to adorn your body.”

“Where is your friend? Did he stay on the ship?”

“
Non
, Claude went on the submarine expedition. I had business in town and did not require him to accompany me.”

Require? Undoubtedly, the countess pulled the strings in their relationship. Interesting how she expected Vail to be the dominant partner in marriage. So
what does that make me, an accessory? Maybe you ‘re an accessory as well, only to crime
.

The countess glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes almost imperceptibly. “I have calls to make. We will not see each other again.
Au revoir, mes amies
.”