Hair Raiser Page 13

  Nah, that was nonsense. David was just coming on to her, that’s all. She could handle him, or she could relax and see where things went between them. Time would tell.

  The landing went smoothly. After they passed through customs and immigration, a driver with a minibus took them into town. It was a bumpy ride, worse than the flight. What made it tolerable was the ocean view around every corner. Marla clutched her armrest; glad they hadn’t rented a car. She didn’t want to bother learning how to drive on the left side of the road.

  They halted in front of the towering rose pink facade of the Marriott Cable Beach Resort.

  “Your rooms aren’t ready yet,” a pleasant receptionist told them in a singsong voice. “If you come back at three o’clock, I should have the keys for you then.”

  Marla perked up at the plural words. Hopefully, Cynthia had the sense to reserve separate rooms. Pushing them together could only go so far without boomeranging.

  “Let’s find a phone and call Morton Riley,” she suggested, after they’d checked their luggage with a bellhop. “Where is he staying?”

  “He’s renting a place in town. Riley works on international trade agreements,” David explained, pulling a notebook from his jacket pocket. He flipped through the pages, stopping when he found Riley’s local address and showing it to her. “Once a year, he makes the rounds in the Caribbean basin. His house is probably near the government center.”

  “The phones must be downstairs where the shops are located. There’s an escalator to the lower level. Let’s go.” She’d just as soon accomplish their mission right away. They could worry about what to do until Wednesday later, after they’d met the trustee.

  Nobody answered when David dialed Riley’s number. “Now what?” he said. “It’s early yet. Riley may not get home until after working hours.”

  “We’ll have to wait.” Disappointed, Marla began stroll¬ing toward the shops. The lure of a sale could always distract her attention. Unfortunately, the price tags made her lip curl. Who’s gonna buy these baubles? Casino high rollers? she thought, peering into the window of a jewelry store.

  They passed more reasonable shops beyond the casino at an interior corridor leading to the Radisson, an adjacent resort. Other women cast envious glances in her direction as they sized up her companion. Was this so bad? Here she was in the sunny Bahamas on a free ticket. Why couldn’t she relax for a few hours?

  “I wish this business with Ocean Guard was finished so we could get on with our lives,” she remarked with a grimace of impatience.

  David pursed his lips, examining her face. “I want you to have a good time while we’re here, Marla. Why don’t you let me worry about Ocean Guard? I can see Riley on my own.”

  “Are you kidding? I didn’t come all this way to get shuffled aside. I’m just as concerned as you.”

  “I know that. I’m trying to save you needless aggravation. You work too hard. As you said, you don’t get away very often. Why don’t you regard this trip as a mini-vacation?”

  “I can’t, at least not until we see Riley.”

  They headed outdoors to a spectacular pool area with a cascading rock waterfall and waterslide. The beach area was crowded with sunbathers eager to catch the early morning rays.

  Squinting in the sunlight, David gave an engaging smile. “Even after we see Riley, we have to wait for our flight. We might as well make the best of the situation. You’re too uptight, Marla.”

  A sigh of resignation escaped her lips. “I can’t help it. Time is marching on while we try to get answers to so many questions. Before we know it, Taste of the World will be upon us. We have to move quickly to expose the saboteur before he does any further damage... or more chefs quit the fund-raiser.”

  He took her by the elbow and guided her back inside where they could talk out of the heat. “We’ll get the guy, don’t worry. Now chill out, sweetheart. We have a few hours to kill. Let’s enjoy this place.”

  “Thanks for being so understanding.” He was right, of course. Why beat herself over the head with their problems when there was nothing they could do at the moment? David might decide she wasn’t worth the effort if she didn’t lighten up.

  Lunch provided a pleasant diversion. They ate in the Goombay Mama restaurant off the main lobby. David talked her into ordering a Bahama Mama, a fruity orange rum drink with a whopping punch.

  “Wow,” she said, feeling its effects in terms of reeling senses. “They’re not stingy with their liquor here.”

  A silly grin split his face. “These conch fritters are the best, better than I’ve had in Key West. Want a taste?”

  She hadn’t ordered an appetizer, deciding an entree of grouper fingers would be enough. “No, thanks. Where should we go for dinner tonight?” Forcing herself to play tourist, she was gratified at David’s delighted response.

  “I’ve heard of a place called the Café Johnny Canoe,” he said enthusiastically. “It’s next to the Nassau Beach Hotel which is on the other side of this resort. I’ll bet they have some other rum concoctions you can try. You sure enjoyed this one.” Nodding toward her empty glass, he signaled the waiter for a refill.

  “Hey, wait. I don’t want to sleep all afternoon.” A relaxed mood put her mind at ease. David had been correct in surmising she’d been too uptight

  “You’re on vacation. Take advantage of it.” He grinned disarmingly. “And if you want to take advantage of me, I’m available.”

  She flushed beet red, having just been thinking how charming he was and how sensuously curved his lips appeared. Their food arrived, and she hid her embarrassment by digging in with alacrity. The fish was crisp on the outside, flaky and warm as it slid down her throat. Having something solid in her stomach might dilute the effects of the rum.

  After paying the bill, they checked in with the receptionist again, but their rooms still hadn’t been cleaned.

  “Let’s go next door and take a look at that restaurant for tonight,” David suggested.

  Feeling as though her limbs were made of styling gel, she allowed him to lead her downstairs, where they headed outside toward the Nassau Beach Hotel. Tropical greenery shaded a walkway that wound a path to the adjacent resort.

  Marla, feeling woozy, carefully watched where she stepped. She hoped the effects of the rum would wear off quickly.

  “Look out!” David suddenly shouted.

  Glancing up, Marla gasped. A coconut plummeted straight at her head.

  Chapter Twelve

  Even as Marla’s mind registered the danger, strong hands shoved her from behind. She pitched forward, taking the brunt of the impact on her hands and knees. Sprawled on the ground, she shook her spinning head. Thankfully, she’d landed on soft soil rather than concrete, but she hadn’t escaped unscathed. From the corner of her eye, she saw a shadowy figure bolt from a balcony several stories above them.

  “Are you all right?”

  David’s solicitous inquiry penetrated her mental fog. “Yes, I think so.” She rose unsteadily to her feet with his assistance and tested her arms and legs. “No broken bones, just some scrapes.” She brushed the dirt off her clothes, wincing when the fleshy part of her palms burned.

  “You’re hurt.” His gaze darkened, lifting to the balcony. “Sonovabitch. Someone hurled that coconut at you. I can go after the bastard, unless you need me.” His voice wavered with indecision.

  “Whoever it was probably got away. I’d like to get cleaned up. By any chance, did you bring Band-Aids? I might have scraped my knees.”

  “There’s some in my shaving kit.”

  “I’ll look for the ladies’ room while you access your luggage. Maybe you can urge the receptionist to get our rooms ready if you tell her about my accident.” Holding his arm, she retreated toward their hotel.

  “It wasn’t an accident.”

  She heard the ominous note in his voice. “Do you really believe someone tried to knock me out? Who else knew we were here besides Cynthia?” A feeling of dread assailed her. S
urely her cousin couldn’t be involved. More likely, they’d been followed onto the airplane. If so, who had given orders that she was to be put out of action?

  “Popeye’s heir must have gotten wind about our trip,” David said in a grim tone. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  It became more imperative to contact Morton Riley, but when she phoned his number again, no one answered. “We could hop into a taxi and wait for him on his doorstep,” she suggested, although her body craved rest. She’d cleansed her wounds in the rest room, but that only made her hands and knees ache more.

  “Our rooms are almost ready. Why don’t you lie down for a while? You look tired, and events have taken their toll. I’d rather you be well rested to enjoy our dinner tonight.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled kindly.

  Her heart warmed at his obvious concern. “What about Riley? Do you think the person who threw that coconut will go after him next? If Riley can identify the heir, he’s in danger.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the guilty party hoped to put you out of commission, believing it would screw up the fund-raiser enough for your cousin to cancel the affair. That would achieve his objective if Ocean Guard fails to meet its commitments. You might be his sole target.”

  “Oh, joy. That’s reassuring.”

  Loud music blared, and she noticed people were crowding the lobby. A band marched into sight. Dressed in colorful Junkanoo costumes, the players paraded for the tourists, pausing for photo opportunities.

  She caught sight of the receptionist signaling to them. Their rooms were ready, and they finally received their keys.

  “You go ahead and get some rest,” David commanded. “I’ll keep trying to reach Riley. If we connect, I’ll let you know right away. Otherwise, why don’t you and I meet back in the lobby at six? If Riley is meeting with government officials, he should be finished by then.”

  “Okay.” Nothing appealed to her more than crawling into bed just then and seeking oblivion. Although her fears weren’t abated, it felt good to put them aside for a brief interval. Deciding to let David carry the burden of worry, she succumbed to sleep within the hour.

  When six o’clock drew near, Marla felt refreshed and prepared to tackle any difficulty. She’d showered and changed into a dressy pantsuit for the evening and descended the elevator, looking forward to greeting David.

  His familiar countenance did not grace the lobby until fifteen minutes past their meeting time. When he appeared, a harried expression carved lines on his face. His skin showed an unhealthy pallor, and his hands, when he grasped hers, trembled.

  “What’s wrong?” Her gaze scanned the lobby for hidden dangers.

  He gave a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I couldn’t rest. Too wound up, I suppose. How about you? You look ravishing tonight.” His posture eased as he regarded her with a mock leer. “Maybe we should go to dinner and forget about Riley until tomorrow. It’s not often we get the chance to be alone together.”

  How could he ignore their reason for being there? “If you’re not going to Riley’s place now, I am. Will you come or not?” A hint of annoyance spiced her tone. She couldn’t help it; here he was romancing her when they had business to conduct.

  I’m not some sappy female, pal. Normally, I can face the tough issues. When someone isn’t trying to bash my brains in with a coconut, that is.

  His mouth curved downward at her decision. “Of course, I’m coming. I was just trying to save you some grief.”

  “Why? Do you know something I don’t?”

  He glanced at her before averting his eyes. “You’re being unusually hostile.”

  “You’re being evasive. You looked upset when I met you.”

  “I’m concerned about your safety.”

  “Your face was white, like you’d seen a ghost.”

  “All right, I’m worried because Morton Riley isn’t answering his phone. I don’t want us to get involved if the Bahamian police show up. They might detain us.”

  She raised her eyebrows quizzically. “What for? Detain us over his absence?”

  His lips tightened into a thin line. “We’ll find out soon enough. Let’s go and get this visit over with.”

  Outside, the weather had become cloudy and windy with the heavy ambience of impending rain. A crowd milled about the valet stand, while a line of taxis waited for customers.

  “Let’s take a jitney,” David suggested, peering about with a guarded expression. “If anyone is keeping tabs on our movements, it’ll be harder to track us with people getting on and off along the route. We’ll take a taxi back to the hotel.”

  Rubbing her sore hands, she followed him down the curving driveway to street level, where they found a bus stop. It wasn’t long before a lumbering vehicle rattled to a halt in front of them. Climbing inside, Marla took a seat at David’s indication.

  “The fare is seventy-five cents each, due when we get off. I’ll take care of it,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

  “Look, some people are paying a dollar. They must be leaving a tip for the driver.” Marla hadn’t realized U.S. currency was so readily accepted on the island.

  Staring out the window, she watched as they passed a verdant golf course, brightly painted residences and an empty schoolyard. Pink, coral, lime green, and turquoise were popular colors for most of the buildings. On the left, the ocean reflected slate gray from clouds scudding overhead in a darkening sky. Soon night would descend, and the air would be filled with perfumed fragrances of tropical flowers.

  They got off near the British Colonial Hotel. “Which way?” she asked since David seemed more familiar with the place. He must have been to Nassau before.

  “Up this street.” He trudged past the Conch Fritters Bar and Grill, turned right and headed along a series of winding streets.

  Marla became increasingly uneasy as they entered a residential district where few tourists were visible. Electric power lines crossed a street broken by uneven paving, which made walking difficult. A stray dog, black except for white forelegs, blocked their path, baring its teeth as they skirted around. Older-model cars littered a sandy lot like cast-aside toys. No lights shone from within an adjacent house, almost as though the residents had abandoned their home like the drivers who’d discarded their dilapidated vehicles.

  Beyond the hillside, Marla was relieved to find a more affluent community with single-story homes and lush landscaping. “This is it,” David said, gesturing at a house with a white tile roof and brick-paved driveway. Streetlights cast a dim glow on the sand-colored structure. David paused to kick a few pebbles out of his path.

  Marla’s stomach growled, reminding her it was mealtime. If Riley had been home, she’d have expected to sniff the spicy aroma of conch chowder emanating from his house. But the only scent was an earthy odor of rotting vegetation. No sounds came from within the house, which was dark as a ship’s cargo hold. Maybe Riley had a dinner engagement in town. That would account for this unusual stillness.

  She approached the entrance, hesitating when David didn’t follow. “What’s the matter?” she asked him with a puzzled frown.

  “Things seem awfully quiet. Do you think it’s right to show up unannounced like this?”

  “Of course it is. Riley should be home by now, unless he was detained in town. In that case, we can leave a note on his door. I have a pad of paper in my purse.”

  Raising her hand to ring the doorbell, she froze upon noticing the entry was slightly ajar. “Hello,” she called, pushing the door open a crack.

  “Marla, don’t go inside,” David warned, looming beside her. “You’ll be... it wouldn’t be wise if no one’s home.”

  It almost sounded as though he’d meant to say something else. Marla ignored him, curiosity compelling her onward. A gust of wind swept by her legs, widening the crevice. Boldly, she shoved the door open and stepped inside.

  “Mr. Riley?” Her voice came out as a hoarse cry. Hearing no response, she searched for a light switch. A hall li
ght provided illumination for comfortable living room furnishings. An open briefcase lay on an armchair, papers strewn on the floor. Marla glanced down an empty corridor, her heart thumping.

  “Let me look for Riley. You stay here,” David ordered, tapping her arm.

  “Not on your life.”

  Pushing past him, Marla crept down a darkened hallway toward what she figured must be the kitchen. “Mr. Riley,” she called again. No response. The open archway into the kitchen beckoned.

  Marla took one step inside, then stumbled backward. “Dear Lord. David!” Even in the faint light coming from the single window, she’d seen the blood. Everywhere. On the walls, countertops, covering the floor like a slippery, congealed mass. She hadn’t missed the body either, or the butcher knife impaled in the man’s chest.

  Slapping a hand to her mouth, she whirled around to flee and collided with David’s solid form.

  He caught her by the shoulders. Without loosening his grip, he leaned sideways to peer into the kitchen. “My God. That’s Riley. His face... I’ve met him before.” His tone deepened. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

  “Not now. Let’s move.”

  Too stunned to comprehend, Marla followed him outside, where she wrapped stiff arms around her trembling body. A cool breeze ruffled her hair, tossing strands into her eyes. Her hand shook as she pushed them away.

  David led her along the road, presumably heading toward the main thoroughfare where they could catch a taxi. “We can’t afford to get involved with Bahamian officials,” he explained. “We might miss our flight home. They might even think we had something to do with his death.”

  David’s earlier words came back to her as she trailed him down a hill. I don’t want us to get involved if the Bahamian police show up. They might detain us. Why would he have said that earlier unless he knew something was wrong? Other than Riley’s not answering the phone, that is.

  She halted in her tracks. “Hold on. Where were you while I was resting in my hotel room?”