 
### Sibling Rivalry

### By

### Mac Zazski

### Smashwords Edition

### ***

### Copyright 2014 Mac Zazski

### ***

### Sibling Rivalry is the second sequel in the "Remembering" series

### ***

### Discover other titles by Mac Zazski at Smashwords.com

### ***

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or it was purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is dedicated to my friend

Eileen "B" Parsons

"I hope that this was worth the wait,

The writing caused me a fit,

If it's a bad read, I apologize now,

Remember a jacksie wrote it!"

Mac 12/14

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

### Prologue

She is a beautiful woman, her body perfectly proportioned, almond shaped eyes a deep, rich brown set in the high cheek boned face of an Asian goddess. Her skin bears a golden tan and when she smiles, the world stops and hold its breath, lost in the glory of the sight.

She wears a simple navy blue blouse and a white skirt that descends to her knee and she appears pleasant and happy and approachable. Around her neck is a thin gold necklace with a small cross upon it, like its wearer, delicate and beautiful. She never takes it off, a gift from a past lover, a reminder of a time long ago or so it seems. It is both a remembrance and a reminder and while the memories fade, the reminder does not. A large man saunters up to the bar where she is working and smiles at her, one of the hundreds who every day became captivated by her beauty. She is polite and funny and sweet and she easily deflects his advances while maintaining a professional and friendly attitude. As the man returns to his friends, she is alone at the bar for a moment before her replacement saunters in. He is a dark skinned man with an angry frown and dark, menacing eyes.

Looking at her, he nods hello and she slides up to him.

"Winslow," she says in a soft, easy voice, "it's been kind of quiet today."

"Everyone getting ready for the big party this weekend, no doubt," replies Winslow, his Jamaican accent surprisingly friendly and inviting despite his angry looking demeanor.

"Another wedding," she sighs. "I hope they're good tippers..."

"From the United States," he replies with a shake of his head, "cheap bastards one and all...until they get drunk of course..."

"Yes, as long as they're drunk enough," she laughs, a sweet sound that causes all who hear it to smile. "We did pretty well at the last one..."

"Cause you wore that white sarong with the black bikini underneath," he states. "I had to fight them off all evening, damn near lost an arm protecting you..."

"You didn't complain when we split the tips," she giggles knowingly.

"I earned every one of those dollars," he replies, a slight smile curling his lips. He looks down self-consciously; he loves her like his little sister and hates to see her hurt, but she has to be told. "Did you see the name on the wedding?"

"Does it matter?" she asks, reaching for her purse beneath the bar.

"It does this time, my girl," he replies softly. "Carlos Gooden..."

Her smile freezes, hiding emotions that he could only guess at and which no one else knows for sure.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he states mournfully.

"It's all right." Her voice is unsteady as she waves her hand dismissively, "We don't even know if it's him..."

Winslow shakes his head slowly, "I checked it, my girl. It's him, no doubt about it."

She exhales slowly and looks down at her feet for a moment. Straightening up, she forces a smile once again, "It's all right, Winslow, it doesn't matter. He won't even notice me, he'll be busy with his new bride and it will be fine..."

"If you want, I can get me niece to work," he states softly. "She's a good child, not nearly as pretty as you, but I'll get them drunk and still make some tips..."

"Don't be silly, Winslow," she replies, her smile softening. "We're a team. You and I will work the Gooden wedding and we'll make the tips and NOTHING will happen, you watch and see."

Winslow forces a smile as she pats his cheek and then makes her way past him and out behind the door that stands behind the bar. Making her way down a tight corridor, she climbs the stairs and hesitates. No, she won't go to yet, not today, instead climbing the stairs to the top of the building. The outside room on the roof upstairs is closed to visitors today, but it offers a lovely view of paradise and she finds herself out in the sunlight, the sky a beautiful, unobstructed blue reaching out forever. Making her way to the rail that surrounds the roof, she looks out over the sea, watching as boats churn happily towards home from the harbor below. Glancing at her watch, she frowns; she can be home in ten minutes if she wishes, but she does not want that, not now. She needs time, time to think, time to remember, time to forget. So Carlos is coming here, somehow she knew all along that he would eventually, had even suspected that he would look for her, but then again, why would he?

Besides, she was sure he had no idea where she was or what she was doing. They had not stayed in touch, why would they? She thinks back to the last time she saw him and shudders. The world has changed so much since then; her life is so different now. She stares down at the beautiful blue water; if he did see her, what would he say? Would he say anything? Hopefully not...If he is half as happy as she is, then nothing could be wrong in the world for him. She looks at the sun; it was beginning its long descent into the sea. The wind blows her long black hair behind her and her eyes became dark and glow with a sudden moisture. Would he say anything to her? No, there was nothing left to say...

### Chapter 1

"What the hell do you mean you lost me bag?" snapped Ginger. "I'm the bride, THE BRIDE! I got all sorts of stuff in there for me wedding and you done lost me bag?"

The tiny Mandarin Isle lost and found office seemed to shrink by half as Ginger's tirade grew. As her anger rose, her Jamaican accent grew more pronounced making it difficult for the young woman peering at her from behind the desk to understand her. Chubby with fair skin and large, frightened eyes, the barely twenty year old woman was a college student trying to make some summer money in an island paradise. The whole idea had been to make some money while having fun in the sun and on this, her second day on the job; things had taken a horrible turn. This situation had not been covered in the training video she had seen. She was not completely sure how one should handle a disgruntled bride, especially one this scary.

The bride in question towered over her in her six inch heels, her hair pulled back in a pony tail that showcased hair extensions in three different colors. Her beautiful oval face featured angry dark eyes and a mouth fixed in something between a sneer and a frown. Raising her hand, she pointed a finger that was extended two inches by a highly decorated fingernail.

"If I don't get my bag in the next twenty seconds, so help me, they're going to be calling security to report that there's a body in here where a worker was twenty seconds ago!" ranted Ginger.

The girl looked at her helplessly and quickly picked up the phone.

"Please give me a moment, miss," she replied in a shaky voice. "Let me call out again and see if they've found your bag yet..."

"Who you got working out there anyways?" asked Ginger, her eyes flashing and her head weaving from side to side. "I got matching luggage, how the hell can you lose matching luggage? Don't they know that if the bags match, they go together? They don't call it mix and match luggage, do they?"

Beside her, a chubby dark man in a pair of khaki shorts and a white polo shirt tried to speak to her in a soothing voice.

"Calm down, my love," said her fiancé Carlos softly. "We'll find your bag..."

Ginger turned on him, her dark eyes flashing, "The hell we will! I ain't going to look for no bag! What the hell they pay these people for if I got to go look for my own bag? Do you see the words "Baggage Handler" on this dress? Do you?"

"No, love, I didn't mean..."

"If you don't mean it, don't say it!"

The girl put down the phone and smiled.

"They found your bag," she said happily.

"Well, when do I get it?" snapped Ginger.

"Well, it's in New York..." began the girl.

"NEW YORK?" screamed Ginger. "I JUST LEFT NEW YORK! WHAT THE HELL DID THEY THINK; I WANTED MY BAG TO STAY BEHIND WHILE I WENT ON VACATION? WHAT DID THEY THINK, THAT LADY JUST WANTED TO TAKE HER BAG TO SEE THE AIRPORT AND THEN LEFT IT ALONE UNTIL SHE GETS BACK FROM MANDARIN ISLE?"

"It is coming in on the next flight," explained the girl, terror in her eyes. "We will have it sent to your hotel immediately when it arrives. It will be there in less than three hours. I'll see that you get a refund for the inconvenience."

"YOUR DAMN STRAIGHT I'LL GET A REFUND!" roared Ginger. "MY MEDICINE'S IN THAT BAG!"

Carlos squinted in confusion, "You don't take no medicine..."

"WHAT THE HELL, YOU MY DOCTOR NOW?" yelled Ginger, turning on him with wild eyes. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I TAKE! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW! KEEP THIS UP AND THE ONLY THING YOU'LL SEE COMING DOWN THAT AISLE IS MY SHOE! I'LL HIT YOU RIGHT IN THE HEAD WITH IT BEFORE I STORM OUT, I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL!!!"

"Tonight, you say?" asked Carlos of the girl, hoping to get the wrath turned on someone else.

"Yes," replied the girl meekly, seeing the man's ploy and wishing she could be swallowed up by a sinkhole. "I promise you..."

"YOU PROMISE ME ONE MORE THING AND I'LL PERFORM SURGERY ON YOU!" snapped Ginger. "YOU GOT THREE HOURS; I DON'T GET ME BAG IN THREE HOURS, I WILL COME BACK AND HUNT YOU DOWN!"

"Three hours," replied the girl, raising her hand as if taking an oath. "I swear, three hours..."

***

Poolside was a large expanse of concrete surrounding a dolphin shaped pool with a view out onto a crystal clear ocean a mere hundred feet away. Within the concrete, shapes of water gods had been fashioned and highlighted by colored glass in a mosaic both impressive and whimsical. On the island side of the pool, a large bar protruded from the rocks that formed the slope that led up to the massive hotel resort that rested above the pool. While several people lounged at the bar, most people took advantage of the waiter service and sat in the cushioned lounge chairs that lined the massive area surrounding the pool itself. The waiters, mostly attractive young men in crisp white shirts with black bow ties, scooted between loungers, taking orders, depositing drinks and discretely collecting phone numbers.

Melissa Tibbet leaned back upon her lounge chair after taking her drink from the waiter who was serving poolside. The man glanced quickly up and down her body as she positioned the glass on the small table next to her, openly admiring her figure and her beautiful face. Glancing to the person sitting next to her, his smile froze. Sitting beside her was a massive man who seemed to be entirely made up of muscle. The man's eyebrows descended slightly behind the sunglasses he was wearing as he stared at the waiter, who smiled at him and then offered him a slight shrug, an open admission of his transgression.

Vance forced himself not to smile though it was difficult not to do so. The waiter had admitted what he had done and it was hard to hold him accountable. Melissa was so very beautiful, it was only natural that men were attracted to her and when she wore a bathing suit it was hard to blame them even when they were so obviously guilty. To the waiter's surprise, he gave a slight shrug back and the waiter broke into a large, friendly smile.

"What can I get you, sir?" he asked in a pleasant Jamaican accent, adding softly, "on me..."

Vance gave him a little laugh, "I'll take a pina colada."

"A pina colada for the lucky man," smiled the waiter as he turned and left to get Vance's order.

Melissa looked over at her husband and gave him a beautiful smile as she raised her sunglasses.

"I used to get sent drinks when I was single, I did not know that now that I'm married, my husband gets them as well..."

"Thank goodness we didn't get married in California," he replied reasonably. "Half of ALL of your drinks would be mine."

She giggled as she shook her head and took a sip of her drink. It was a typical vacation drink, sweet and cold and not terribly strong, but she found it wonderful just the same. She and Vance had arrived on the island yesterday and she could not be happier with their resort, it was beautiful and peaceful and just perfect. The Tibbets had come down to Mandarin Isle to help their friend Ginger celebrate her nuptials to the only man brave enough to marry her, Carlos. Not that Ginger was a horrible person; she was a beautiful woman with a generous heart, but it was just, well, she could be a bit demanding and God help the person who crossed her. Carlos had his work cut out for him, Melissa thought, but he seemed happily up to the task. He had dated Ginger for the last eight years and HAD to know what he was getting himself into. Ginger did not have a phony bone in her body, what you saw was what you got, no matter who you were or where you encountered her.

The waiter returned, his smile growing as he handed Vance his drink, "Enjoy, my friend."

"Thank you," smiled Vance as he caught the waiters nod towards Melissa and a wink of congratulations.

"It's nice that you're making friends," she stated, leaning back in her chair.

"It's not my fault people want to know me," he replied, taking a sip of his drink and finding more alcohol in it than four normal vacation drinks featured combined. "I own my own business, I'm fairly successful and I'm married to the most beautiful and intelligent woman in the world."

"True," replied Melissa. "Still, don't forget who you brought with you."

Vance smiled and leaned over, kissing her warmly, "I could never forget you, my love."

Melissa smiled and reaching up, touched his face and kissed him again. Wasn't it amazing how a few hours in paradise could make two people so in love amorous? He felt her giggle as he kissed her again.

"Let's go back to the room," he suggested with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Placing a hand on his chest, she whispered in a sexy voice, "I'll race you..."

***

Christopher Gibbons was the general manager of the Montego Bay Majestic, the most sumptuous, newest and grandest of all resorts on Mandarin Isle. Gibbons had worked hard to make the M.B.M, as it was known, the most frequented resort destination on the island. He was a Penn State Graduate, a man renowned in his field as a magician of hotel and entertainment management and was seen as one of the best managers in the business. But despite his pedigree, his professional record and his impressive resume, Christopher Gibbons was in no way prepared to deal with Ginger, or as he came to refer to her, W.M.I.B., the World's Most Insane Bride.

Katarina, a beautiful Polish girl with golden blonde hair and large, frightened blue eyes, peered into his office. Christopher had yearned for Katarina since she had arrived here some six months ago, but his professional decorum had prevented any liaison. Until now, they had been colleagues, him acting as her mentor and friend. While he longed for more, he told himself that it would be unprofessional and he maintained a discrete, unhappy distance.

Gathering herself, Katarina looked at him apologetically and announced in her heavily accented English, "The crazy woman is here yet again."

Christopher rolled his eyes. Mandarin Isle was a made up place, a resort isle owned by a group of stock holders who rented space to a variety of hotel and entertainment concerns who built large, beautiful accommodations for adults seeking to escape their lives for a week or more. Here everything was blue water, tropical breezes, limitless money and fantasy events, weddings mostly though he had thrown several legendary divorce parties as well. The M.B.M boasted several pools, a casino, an amusement park and sumptuous accommodations, both in the main building, which had over sixteen hundred rooms and in its famed honeymoon huts on the beach, which numbered over one hundred. It was his job and the job of his staff to guide the guests through paradise for a week, get them back to their planes on time and get ready for the next batch who were shuttled in every day. Occasionally, a batch of tourists contained one person who did not seem capable of accepting the reality of paradise, a person who marched to the beat of a different drummer, or as he liked to think of them, a nut.

Shaking his head, he looked at Katrina with a sad expression, "Katrina, my love, we do not call our guests crazy, no matter how apt the description."

Katrina offered him an adorable pout, "Sorry, Mister Chris, but my English has limits. Walter calls her a..." she pondered the correct pronunciation, "a facking not job, but I don't know how to say that..."

"No, dear," replied Christopher with a smile, "you don't, but your effort is duly noted. Please ask her into my office...politely."

"Yes, Mister Chris," smiled Katrina, as she sauntered away, the wonderful motion of her slinky backside leaving him with the impression of erotic possibilities.

A moment later the W.M.I.B. stormed into the room and stared at him with an expression bordering on disgust. She was dressed in a skin tight, bright orange dress that stopped at her knees and suddenly blossomed into a black and red fringe. Orange and black flip flops showcased bright red toenails as she stomped into the room.

"You the manager?" she snapped.

Christopher frowned, something he rarely did in front of guests, but in this instance he felt it was forgivable. The woman had been here less than an hour and this was her fourth visit to him, surely she remembered him.

"Yes, Mrs. Gooden, I am the manager," he began, "won't you..."

"Ain't Mrs. Gooden yet," she replied, dropping down into the chair in front of him with a scowl, "and if that jackass don't start listening, ain't ever gonna be Mrs. Gooden."

"A possibility that I am sure fills your loved one with dread," replied Christopher sympathetically. "How may I assist you?"

"Well, as I was telling Ukrainian Barbie out front there," gestured Ginger, "I still ain't got me luggage and I want to go to the beach and I can't because I don't have a swimsuit."

"There are many fine swimsuits available for purchase in the shops..." began Christopher.

"And why I got to buy no swimsuit when I got a perfectly good one in the luggage that you people lost?" she asked angrily.

Christopher smiled, "Yes, I see your point."

Picking up a pen from his desk, he sought out a piece of paper and upon finding it, gave her the briefest of smiles before beginning to write. Scribbling out a sentence or two, he handed the note to her with a flourish.

"There we are, Mrs...ah...my dear," he announced. "If you take that to Bikini's Galore, the shop just across from the main desk and present it to the manager, he will supply you with a suit at no charge."

Ginger offered him a slightly satisfied smile, "Well thank you, Mister Manager, I'm glad to see that someone around here knows how to do business."

"My pleasure, of course..." smiled Christopher, standing and offering his hand, which she took graciously. "If there is ANYTHING I can do to make your stay more enjoyable, please don't hesitated to call upon me."

"Believe me, I won't," replied Ginger.

"Of that I have no delusions," he smiled as he accompanied her to the door. "Have a wonderful day and please, make sure to enjoy yourself."

Ginger offered him a smile as she sashayed across the lobby towards the shop, picking up Carlos in her wake.

Katrina sidled up to Christopher as he watched Ginger disappear amongst the groups of tourists in the lobby.

"Is it all okay now?" she asked innocently.

He smiled knowingly, "It is fine. The facking not job just wanted something for nothing." Turning to her, he placed a paternal hand upon her shoulder, "Remember my dear, they all want something for nothing and our job is to give it to them, and then charge them for it somewhere else on the bill..."

### Chapter 2

The small jet descended from the clouds, effortlessly gliding down the runway and coming to a smooth halt near a gleaming white hanger. As the plane taxied to stillness, a group of large men in dark suits spread out around it, sunglasses perched above menacing frowns.

A car glided to a position just opposite the small staircase that had been rushed to the plane door and out of the door stepped a thin, handsome black man in a beautifully tailored gray suit. He was about forty years of age, his dark, handsome face impassive, his hard, black eyes shielded from the brilliant sunlight by small, dark sunglasses. As he descended the steps, a younger, light skinned man approached him. His suit could not hide the hours he had spent training in the gym, his massive arms and neck apparent despite the expensive cloth and tailoring.

"Got the car here, Mister Gooden," he stated quietly, glancing about menacingly.

"I can see that, Noel," replied the handsome man. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes sir, I took care of all of the details personally," replied Noel.

"Then I will hold you responsible, personally," replied Mister Gooden, offering Noel an icy smile that made him shiver inside. "I want everything perfect for my baby brother's wedding, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," replied Noel.

"I hope that you do," replied Mister Gooden, striding towards the car. "Carlos and I have some unfinished business to attend to prior to his impending nuptials. For now, let us get settled in our rooms at the hotel. Tomorrow, I will send you to go and fetch him. I need to speak with him, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," replied Noel. "Upon your order..."

Mister Gooden nodded, "Yes Noel, upon my order. You know where to find Carlos?"

"His party is registered at the Montego Bay Majestic," stated Noel. "It's the big resort just down the hill from where we're staying."

"Good," replied Gooden, "he won't be hard to find then."

"I'll get him as soon as you say, Mister Gooden," stated Noel.

Mister Gooden nodded, "Just remember, Noel; wait for my order..."

***

Vance could not take his eyes off of Melissa. The sleeveless black dress she wore was simple and not terribly revealing, but it showed off her figure beautifully. Draping slightly lower than mid thigh, the combination of her heels and her dark pantyhose showed off her legs and drove him to distraction. He had always felt like the luckiest man in the world being her husband but never felt it more than when they got dressed to go to dinner. Melissa always sparkled, even when she dressed simply.

Glancing up at him, she smiled and looked down at herself, "What? Is there a stain or something?"

Wrapping her in his arms, he laughed, "No, you look perfect, as always."

"You'll tell me anything as long as I get you free drinks," she smiled, kissing him lightly.

"Maybe we could beg off tonight's dinner and go back to the room," he suggested slyly.

"Do you want to upset Ginger?" asked Melissa.

Vance frowned, "I'm really not that brave..."

"Neither am I," replied Melissa, scanning the lobby. "She said to meet them here, I hope they hurry, our reservation is for seven."

"Oh, wait a minute," smiled Vance, "I think I hear her now."

He turned towards the hallway that held the bank of elevators on this side of the building. Mirrored golden doors reflected the lobby lights, casting the hallway in a beautiful, golden, hazy glow. From the digital readout above the doors, he could see that two of the elevators were descending and should reach the lobby at about the same time. From one of the shafts, he could hear the distinctive voice of his wife's friend and receptionist, Ginger. Her loved Ginger, despite her being Ginger, but if he had one complaint it was that the woman seldom spoke in anything under a roar. There was no quiet on Ginger's volume switch. Other people in the lobby began to turn towards the elevators, unsure of what the commotion was all about.

"Damn it, Carlos, how the hell did you forget to pack a tie?" said a voice just as the elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open.

Ginger stepped out into the lobby dressed for an evening out. Her dark blue dress was like all of her clothing, tight fitting. This outfit also featured oval shape cutouts that ran down its sides, allowing the general public to enjoy a generous view of Ginger's glowing skin. The dress descended to just above her ankles, effectively tying her legs together. Matching blue stilettos covered in crystals accented her feet and her hair was piled up upon her head in braids that suggested that Medusa had become a hairstylist. Behind her slunk Carlos in a beautiful blue suit, a pearl gray shirt open at the collar all topped by a mournful, hunted looking face.

"There they are," snapped Ginger, pointing to Melissa and Vance and storming past a group of startled onlookers. Stomping up to Melissa, she grabbed her in a tight hug, "So you made it!"

"Of course we made it," smiled Melissa. "We've been here all day. I thought we would see you two before now..."

"Damn airlines lost my luggage," replied Ginger. "How am I gonna get dressed without me dress? Had to wait five hours for them to get my damn luggage here..."

"Two and a half," said Carlos quietly to Vance.

"I swear, I ain't never getting married here again," stated Ginger. "Next time," she said, wheeling on Carlos, "we do what civilized people do and get married in Disneyland and to hell with all this nonsense."

Turning to Vance, she kissed him on the cheek and then leaned back, staring at his neck.

"You see?" asked Ginger to Carlos. "See what he got? He got a necktie. Man's got muscles coming out his ears, ain't even got a neck and he got the sense to bring a necktie." Turning to Vance, she called him by her nickname for him, "Boxcar, you got any other neckties that you can lend Mister I Didn't Think I Needed A Tie?"

"I brought a few..." began Vance.

"Not that one though, cause that one is ugly, boy," she stated unhappily. "How you let him go out in that tie?"

"I bought him that tie," replied Melissa in surprise.

"Should have known," replied Ginger, linking her arm with Melissa's and steering her towards the restaurant, "a beautiful girl like you and with all your taste in your mouth. Child, I have to teach you about fashion..." Looking over her shoulder, she barked at the two men, "Come on you two, ain't gonna be late for dinner cause of you two!"

"Excited about the wedding?" Vance asked as he and Carlos fell into step behind the two women.

"Not as much as you might expect," replied Carlos.

Looking at one another, they laughed, following the women into the restaurant.

***

Winslow walked slowly back towards his home, a little over a mile from where he worked. It had been a long day and his feet were tired.

"Gettin' too old for this shit," he muttered to himself. "Old man workin' in a bar, how much more pathetic can you get? Should have joined my sister and gone to New York, made some real damn money...eeeking out a livin' makin' tips and listenin' to drunks...damn shame..."

Looking up, he saw the car, surprised that something that large could be so quiet. It was long and white and seemed to float on its tires as it eased its way around a curve and headed up towards one of the hotels that dotted the peak of the island's dormant volcano.

"Must have a few dollars to drive somethin' like that," he mused.

The car slowed as it passed him and then accelerated slowly as it drove away. Winslow watched it, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He usually left the intuition part of his life to his wife, but something about that car just did not seem right. Despite being tired, he eased off the road and headed down a path that offered a short cut up to the row of hotels that were perched on the summit. If the car stopped at the closest one, he might have a chance to see who was in it, but if it went on to one of the other ones, well, there was no chance of him catching a glimpse.

The trail was steep and the air hot and after a long day behind the bar, he was tired and out of sorts. It took him longer than he had wanted to take and by the time he reached the top of the path, the car was pulling away from the front of the first hotel. The only thing he saw was a glimpse of the face of an angry black man driving the car, his frown disappearing behind the tinted window as it glided upwards, closing tight as he reached the end of the driveway. Winslow shook his head; somehow it seemed like a missed opportunity, but why?

"Getting old AND crazy," he mumbled, staring at the entrance of the hotel.

He might be right, but there was that feeling in his stomach telling him that something was wrong, very wrong...

### Chapter 3

Carlos awoke to the sound of his fiancé snoring loudly beside him. Groggily, he rose from the bed and made his way to the bathroom where he did his best to relieve himself without opening his eyes. He was certain Ginger would be asleep for a few more hours; she had had three bottles of wine with dinner and several drinks afterwards in the bar/lounge at the hotel. Taking a quick shower, he dressed as quietly as possible and then slipped out of the room and headed downstairs for breakfast. Pushing the elevator button, he glanced down the hall, noting the maid as she exited a room well down at the other end. There seemed to be no one else awake as the door opened and he stepped into the elevator, the quiet making him anxious. Why was it so quiet? Perhaps it was just because they were at a resort. People acted different on vacation. Some people partied late and got up late and others got up early and sprinted about trying to see things, both groups leaving the mid morning riser to their own devices. Carlos was usually an early riser himself, but the late night had gotten him out of bed later than normal. All was right with the world, he assured himself, it was just right with the world an hour later than normal.

The elevator made no stops on its way to the lobby and glided silently to a halt, the doors opening on a space devoid of people. Carlos sauntered off; he would have breakfast, pick up a paper, maybe go down towards the pool. There was no sense in rushing; he had hours before Ginger would awaken.

"Been a long time," said a voice behind him.

Carlos stopped and then turned slowly, eyeing the large dark man with the long dreadlocks that cascaded down his expensive suit to his waist.

Carlos nodded, "Noel, it has been a long time. Did my brother send you?"

"He said you would come with me now," said Noel evenly.

Carlos smiled, "My brother knows me, doesn't he? Time don't change that..."

"Well?" asked Noel sullenly.

"Of course," replied Carlos. "He'll have the breakfast waiting if I know him..."

Noel nodded and led Carlos out into the warm sunlight beyond the main foyer.

***

Andrew Sayers looked down upon the deck of his ship and shook his head, trying to clear his bleary eyes and cursing himself for having gone out for a drink last night. Despite being six foot nine inches tall and close to three hundred pounds, Andrew had never handled alcohol well. He only had two drinks, but it was enough to get him both giddy last night and feeling crappy this morning.

"How the hell can you be Jamaican and not be able to drink rum?" asked his partner Ziggy. The two were opposites in almost every way, Andrew tall, cocoa colored and handsome and Ziggy short, very dark and so ugly it was almost frightening. "It's unnatural, that's what it is..."

"I just got a headache, that's all," replied Andrew. "Who the hell asked you anyway?" Peering out at the boat below them, he shook his head, "Did you get the bar set up?"

"Of course I did," replied Ziggy, scratching his head and frowning, making his unattractive face even less attractive. "Wasn't no trouble, things run just as smooth when you're not there to supervise you know..."

"Ya, ya," replied Andrew, shaking his head slowly, hoping the pain would subside before their passengers arrived.

"How many we got today?" asked Ziggy.

"Full boat, over forty," replied Andrew. "Mostly Americans, want to see underwater without getting saltwater in their cocktails..."

The two shared a laugh.

"As long as they got their money, we'll keep the drinks saltwater free," continued Andrew.

"I wish they were Brazilian models," laughed Ziggy. "Those women are..." he kissed his finger tips and blew it into the air.

Andrew scoffed, "Brazilian model, like you got a chance with a Brazilian model..."

"I could get with a Brazilian model," replied Ziggy indignantly.

"You get with a Brazilian model," huffed Andrew. "Your face scares your own mother, ugly as is... Maybe a BLIND Brazilian model..."

Ziggy considered it, "I'd take a blind one. I don't care if she can look at me; I want to look at her..."

"Pray she can't look at you," replied Andrew with a roll of his eyes. "You and a Brazilian model... What type a children would you have, all sexy legs, nice firm ass and a face that'd scare a shark..."

"Keep it up," snapped Ziggy. "Next time, I'll get you three drinks and you'll miss work all together..."

"Who we got to work the bar today?" asked Andrew suddenly.

Ziggy smiled, "I got us the China girl..."

Andrew's eyes went wide, "Ming?"

Ziggy shook his head, "The same. Spoke to Winslow and he said she'd help us out if we needed her and now that Shauna is all knocked up, I give him a ring. Spoke to her yesterday and she said she'd be here."

"You'd better get some more alcohol," nodded Andrew. "With that sweet little thing working the bar, we'll be selling drinks like mad!"

"Already took care of it," replied Ziggy, his broad, sincere smile somehow making him even less appealing. "I got in two extra cases of rum and I watered down the stock even more than normal. We'll have plenty to go around, you just take it slow on the tour and we'll clean up."

Andrew's wide smile grew broader as the two slapped hands and laughed. It was going to be a great day.

***

He sat down on the hotel veranda, scanning the menu with soft, soulful brown eyes that appeared slightly sleepy. He was about forty years old though it was difficult to tell his age. His bald head and the smooth skin of his slightly chubby face left most people unsure, he could be in his twenties, he could be in his sixties, no one seemed able to puzzle it out. He was handsome and stocky but above all, dignified. His voice was soft and low and he seldom spoke, his words always chosen carefully and delivered with a gravity that gave him a natural authority. He wore his white shirt and khaki slacks like a business man turned tourist, everything appearing slightly neater and less relaxed than one would expect in a tropical paradise. Yes, dignified was the term everyone thought of when they saw him, a dignified man, perhaps a company president or a revered professor or even some dignitary on a quiet vacation.

The waitress approached him, offering him a broad smile. She remembered him from yesterday, a handsome, quiet man, a bit heavy perhaps but she liked a man with some meat on him. Besides, he was a good tipper and he had the money to stay in this place. Who knew, stranger things had happened...

In a pleasant, sweet voice she asked him, "Are you ready to order, sir?"

He offered her a slight smile, "Yes, yes I am." Folding the menu, he handed it back to her as he requested, "Coffee, black, no sugar. Two hard boiled eggs and some toast."

"Is that all I can get you for now, sir?" she asked, glancing down at his manicured fingersnails and noting the absence of a ring.

"Yes, that will be all," he replied primly.

"No one joining you today, sir?' she asked coyly, offering him a slightly wistful look.

His smile lowered, but did not disappear all together, as if thinking of something but being unsure if he were remembering it correctly.

"No, I'm afraid that I will be eating alone this morning..."

The waitress smiled, "Very well, sir."

Looking out over the pool, he watched as the young, white couple took a pair of lounge chairs near the pool, holding hands and talking happily. He recalled their names and the information in the folders he had obtained from New York. A successful security business owner and his psychiatrist wife enjoying a vacation in paradise while attending the wedding of their friends.

"Interesting," he murmured, watching as they shared a quick kiss before leaning back on their respective lounges. Newly married, a happy, loving couple; he doubted they knew much, too distracted by love and friendship to realize just what they had stepped into and who knew; maybe they would never have to know. Of course, that was wishful thinking, he thought, a beneficent smile flitting across his features. He had always had a soft spot for young lovers, had been one once himself, but that was a long, long time ago.

Leaning back, he brought his hands up, finger tips touching, a favorite pose whenever he was deep in thought. After all of these years, it might finally happen. They thought they knew, thought they would be safe here, but did not realize... no, best not to get ahead of himself, that was always dangerous. Patience; that was what was required now, patience and stealth. Douglas Gooden was no fool; he had learned that the hard way, the extremely hard way.

He thought of Iris, her smile and her laughter and the beautiful scent that seemed to follow her like a happy coincidence. So long ago and for far too short a time...She had never wanted him to become a policeman, hated the idea of him being in danger. She had hesitated about the idea of having children, perhaps it had been just as well, what sort of father would he have made without her here? She was gone before he knew it, leaving him with guilt and anger and hate and remorse. He tried to avoid hate; it was too blinding, too self serving an emotion for a policeman to have. Guilt was also too overpowering, too self serving, a dangerous emotion to be ruled by. Hate at least could be used for motivation and he cultivated it carefully, tried to keep it at bay except for when it could be used to drive him forward, make him work even harder. Hate had its uses. Remorse, however, was the largest of them, the hardest to fight. What might have been did not take an extravagant imagination, did not need any fantasy to make the loss of it regrettable. Remorse hugged his soul like a starving child seeking comfort in its mother's arms. Remorse wound itself around him and made ever step heavier, every effort harder, tinged every thought a darker color.

The waitress returned with his coffee.

"Can I get you anything else while you're waiting?" she asked, offering him another smile.

Sleepy eyes blinked very slowly as he looked up at her, his expression soft and mournful.

"No thank you, my dear. Not right now..."

***

Seated before the balcony windows in his suite, Douglas watched his brother chewing his food, the exaggerated side to side motion of his jaw reminding him of a docile cow. Carlos for his part sat quietly enjoying his food, concentrating on his plate. Shyly looking up, he smiled at his brother, pointing to the plate with his fork.

"This is the best ham I've ever eaten."

"Glad you're enjoying it," replied Douglas, his eyes narrowing slightly. "So, how is your fiancé?"

Carlos looked up and nodded, "She'll be sleeping for a bit. She's not really a morning person. Come to think of it, she's not an evening person either. She's more of a lunch till about two in the afternoon type person..."

"She makes you happy?" asked Douglas impassively.

Carlos shook his head, "Come now, Dougie, what is it you really want to know?"

"Carlos, I'm trying to tie up all of my loose ends and we've had some unfinished business for a while, you and I..."

"I understand that, Dougie..." began Carlos.

"I think now that we are here, together, we should settle matters," stated Douglas, his voice leaving little room for argument.

"Knowing you, my brother, I suppose you want it all settled today," replied Carlos softly.

"I do," replied Douglas, gesturing towards Noel, who approached and handed him a folder. Douglas opened it, glanced at the contents and then handed it to Carlos, who pushed his plate aside and opened the folder.

Douglas watched his brother as he lowered his face and stared at the pages within the folder, his face impassive as he scanned the contents. Carlos had always been a good brother, had always put him first. He would expect no less now, perhaps especially now.

Carlos looked up, his dark eyes sad, "I'll need some time, Dougie..."

"I want what is mine, Carlos. It wasn't yours to give..." replied Douglas coldly.

"It was a mistake, Dougie," replied Carlos softly. "You've got to know that I never meant to take anything from you, you of all people. I've worked hard to repay you for all that you've done..."

"And once you do this, we'll be even," said Douglas sternly.

"And things will be like they were?" asked Carlos hopefully.

Douglas nodded.

"I want it done...today."

"Today?" Carlos asked the question but betrayed no surprise. "If you want it today, I'll need a little help doing certain things..."

"I understand that, Carlos, and I will see to it that you have everything you need," replied Douglas. "We understand each other..."

"We understand each other," Carlos concurred. "I've missed you, Dougie, I really have...you're the only family I got left..."

"Let us take care of this today," replied Douglas. "Then everything will be settled before your wedding."

Carlos laughed, "Today, Dougie, I'll take care of it today. You can count on me..."

"I knew I could, Carlos," replied Dougie softly. "I knew I could..."

### Chapter 4

The MBM's Olde Worlde Market was an absolute lie in the way that all Olde Worlde Markets at manufactured vacation resorts are always a lie. The market had only been built within the last five years though it claimed a fanciful past. According to the signs, it had been frequented by pirates and princess long ago, though the only documented fact about Mandarin Isle was that in the late sixteen century, a Spanish galleon had stopped there looking for water and to bury several sailors who had died of the bloody flux. The market, as it were, had no history and all of the merchants who paid for booths there offered the most modern trends, fashions and appliances available at you-are-on-vacation-and-will-pay-slightly-above-market-prices-without-thinking-too-much-about-it prices.

Still, it was a beautiful day and many of the merchants wore costumes, often of the pirate or saucy wench variety. There was music in the air and groups of wealthy and attractive people, many scantily clad, were enjoying themselves in the sun.

Young and old alike seemed to be paired into couples or even numbered groups and even the most fiscally responsible seemed to relax their restrictions on a day like today. People shared jokes, funny comments and flirty glances as they moved from stall to stall, the happiness and good will infectious.

Vance stood, looking muscular and massive in his khaki shorts and polo shirt. His face had descended into a serious scowl that caused several of the people nearby to glance up at him and then scurry a safe distance away. Melissa drew closer to him, her eyes concerned.

"What's the matter?" she asked softly.

"I don't know if I should buy the pirate hat or get the paperweight for my desk. See, the hula girl in the paperweight reminds me of you because she has a little black bikini like the one you wear, but I really like the hat..."

Melissa picked up the hat and placed it upon his head, eyeing him with a slight frown.

"I like it, but I don't think you could wear it to work."

"No one would ask for a raise if I did," he suggested.

She nodded, conceding the point, "Still, it does have a limited use. I mean, unless we go to a pirate show, it's going to end up in a closet or on a wall somewhere."

"I could wear it in the bedroom," he replied softly. "We could play, "The Pirate and the Serving Wench"..."

Melissa frowned, "Serving wench? Why not "The Pirate and the Duchess"?"

"I'd give my left arm to see you in nothing but a corset," he murmured, leaning down and kissing her.

"Fine," she giggled, "get the hat. Oh, what the hell, get them both... now I have to find a corset..."

"There you are!" a voice snapped from behind them.

Turning, the two saw Ginger dressed in an electric green one piece, a floral skirt and seven inch high silver wedgie heels. She staggered unsteadily towards them, an accusatory look on her face.

"Why didn't anyone wake me for breakfast?" she asked angrily.

"No one wanted to commit suicide," offered Vance.

"There's no one on this island brave enough to wake you up for breakfast," replied Melissa. "Especially after you drank last night..."

"I missed breakfast," replied Ginger unhappily. "I got a long day ahead of me and it's the most important meal of the day!"

"That's right, your sister and mother arrive today," smiled Melissa. "I can't wait to meet them..."

"You're going to be disappointed," replied Ginger with a frown, "they ain't nothing like me. Since Daddy died, my mother spends most of her time running the church back home, telling God and the pastor how they should be doing things."

"As for my sister Celia; she runs a charity for former prisoners, another one always saving people; both of them are so prim and proper and always nice to everyone; enough to make you sick..."

"Being nice to people, how horrible," replied Vance.

"Do you know where Carlos went?" asked Ginger. "Ain't seen him all morning..."

"He wasn't at breakfast, at least I didn't see him there," replied Melissa. "Of course, there are so many places to eat breakfast here that we might have just missed him..."

"You didn't see him because he wasn't here," said a voice behind her. Turning, they saw Carlos saunter up behind them, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. "I went to see my brother this morning; he's here on the island..."

"I didn't know you had a brother," stated Vance as Carlos handed the flowers to Ginger, who accepted them with some suspicion.

"My brother Dougie," replied Carlos. "He flew in for the wedding..."

"I thought he wasn't coming," stated Ginger. "You said he couldn't make it..."

"He had a change of plans and was able to get away to attend," replied Carlos with a smile. "He called this morning and I knew you wouldn't be up for a while so I went and had breakfast with him; caught up on old times..."

"I didn't know you had a brother..." began Melissa.

"He's some kind of big wig importer, exporter, right?" asked Ginger.

"Something like that," smiled Carlos. "He has several business concerns. He's always away on some kind of business; I was so surprised when he called..."

"That's great that your brother is coming to the wedding," smiled Vance.

"The hell it is!" snapped Ginger suddenly. "Now I got to redo the whole seating chart! I didn't expect him..."

"Don't make a fuss about him," replied Carlos gently. "He wouldn't like it if you made a big deal about him..."

"That's his whole damn family," complained Ginger. "They're all low key; don't make a fuss type people. How we ever got together, I'll never know. You damn well better make a fuss over me, I can tell you that!"

"Some people are worth making a fuss over," smiled Carlos, slipping his arm around her waist. "And look, he gave me these for this afternoon..." His smile broadened as he held up four tickets.

"What are those for?" asked Ginger.

"Remember you said you wanted to go on one of those glass bottom boat tours?" asked Carlos.

"I didn't say I wanted to go on no glass bottom boat," replied Ginger with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I said I wanted to go on a cruise."

"You said you wanted to go on a boat where you could see the ocean and drink fancy drinks," replied Carlos. "You can do that on this boat." Turning to Melissa and Vance, he continued, "The boat sets sail this afternoon, we'd love if you two would join us."

"My mother's coming in, I can't just go on some damn boat," stated Ginger.

"We'll be back in plenty of time to pick up your Mother," replied Carlos. "The tour is only three hours and your family don't get in until eight tonight..."

"What about my plans?" snapped Ginger. "I have a massage at two and then I was thinking of doing some shopping..."

"Don't you want to shop with your mother and sister?" asked Melissa.

"Hell no," replied Ginger. "They got worse taste than you..."

"What's wrong with my taste?" asked Melissa, a bit defensively.

"You got a cute little figure and what are you wearing?" asked Ginger. "Shorts and a high neck top. You got it girl, show it!"

"I prefer that she save her more revealing clothing just for me," stated Vance, giving Melissa a quick kiss on the forehead.

"You weren't sayin' boo when she got you them free drinks yesterday were you?" asked Ginger. "Don't speak, you know I'm right. If I dressed her, we wouldn't pay for nothing on this whole damn island..."

"I prefer not to sell myself for drinks," stated Melissa, "or anything else for that matter..."

"Go ahead, waste what the good Lord gave you and pay retail," replied Ginger sagely. "I try, Lord knows I try, but this girl just don't listen..." Turning back on Carlos, she frowned. "And you! You don't listen, do you? You just don't ever listen to me when I talk to you, do you? What have I told you not to do every day since we met?"

"Every day?" asked Carlos.

"Every day!" she replied angrily.

"Don't wear green; it makes you look fat..."

"No, the other thing..."

"Don't drive so fast, I don't feel like going to work anyway..."

"Not that one."

Carlos thought a minute, "Pick me up at lunchtime and don't be late?"

"No."

"Don't use my toothpaste?"

"No."

"Don't buy nothing from an infomercial; it's all a rip off..."

"No."

"Get nicer shoes or you can walk your ass out of here alone..."

"No."

"Don't trust white people, they're no damn good..."

"True, but no."

"Don't forget to get the car washed..."

"No."

"I don't make dinner, I make reservations..."

"No."

"If I want your opinion, I'll tell you what it is..."

"No."

"It ain't stealing if they make it so easy to take..."

"No."

"If you touch my hair I'll cut you..."

"No."

"We can have sex as long as no one sweats..."

"NO!" snapped Ginger. "I told you, DON'T MAKE PLANS FOR ME! I hate it when someone tries to give me a schedule. Look at her," she continued, pointing to Melissa, "for years she wanted me in at eight o'clock on the dot, now she knows if I show up at nine, she's doing well..."

"When have you ever been in at nine?" asked Melissa. "I haven't seen you get off the elevator before ten o'clock EVER..."

"This is not about you," stated Ginger with exasperation. "It is my wedding and I'm correcting my man. You are just a little footnote in this whole story, so please, could you just stay at the bottom of the page until you are needed? THANK YOU! Now Carlos, I don't like you making plans for our wedding, it's OUR wedding; your input is NOT needed. Your job, the one thing you need to do is to show up and look presentable so that everyone will say, "Who is that lucky man standing besides that beautiful bride?", you see? Leave the planning to me, leave the thinking to me and for God's sake, leave the decisions to me, you're no good at it..."

"I asked you to marry me, wasn't that a good decision?" asked Carlos.

"For you, hell yes," she replied. "You're getting me, best thing you ever did was ask me and I can't blame you for being proud of doing it, but a wedding is something you got no idea about..."

"But it's not the wedding; it's just a little excursion..."

"What if the boat sinks?" asked Ginger. "Do you know what saltwater does to a weave?"

"I promise you the boat won't sink..."

"Yeah, that's what all those men said to their wives on the Titanic, "Boat ain't gonna sink, it's a big boat, it's unsinkable..." and then three hours later, Leonardo DiCaprio is freezing his ass off without a life preserver while his girlfriend floats away. You want me floating away? Do you?"

"Of course not," replied Carlos. "Look, we'll just have some fun and it would mean a lot to Dougie if we went. He was hoping we'd go and enjoy it on him; it's a little pre-wedding present. You don't want to disappoint him, do you?"

Ginger considered it, "He got a lot of money, right?"

"Tons of the stuff," nodded Carlos. "You're definitely marrying the poor relation..."

"Just my luck," frowned Ginger. "Well, if it will make the rich man happy, I'll do it, but just this once and promise me, from now on, no more planning, or any of that other stuff I told you not to do..."

"You have my word," replied Carlos.

"That don't mean a damn thing," stated Ginger to Melissa. "They're all, "I won't do it again" and then forget the next second; it's like having to watch one of those children they take to school on those special busses..."

"Ginger!" snapped Melissa.

"Oh please," waved Ginger, "like you don't bitch every time you get stuck behind one of those things driving to work..."

***

Ming rose and shyly wrapped the sheet around her, glancing back at him with a beautiful smile and then gliding off in the direction of the bathroom. Robert propped himself up on his elbow and smiled, always fascinated by anything Ming did. It always struck him how shy she appeared just after they made love, how the throes of passion were so quickly replaced by her natural modesty.

"Come back to bed," he urged, "you have plenty of time."

She peeked out from the bathroom door and gave him a smile that set his heart aflame, "If I come back, I'll never leave on time and you know it. No, this is the first time I'm working the boat, so I want to get there early and make sure I know where everything is..."

He shifted in bed and stared through the door, watching her slip behind the glass shower doors, feeling his excitement rise as she lathered her beautiful body. She laughed to herself, knew that he watched and somehow loved him all the more for it. Robert made her feel like a princess, as if she were special. There was nothing degrading in his affection, nothing lustful in his intention. He genuinely loved her, cherished her and lived for her.

When they had met, she had been unsure. He was here on vacation, an attractive American out for a good time, but then he quit his job and moved here just to be with her. It had frightened her, had been too much too soon, but he never pushed, never overwhelmed her. He had been patient and kind and finally, she had told him everything, had overcome her natural shyness and shared, really shared and he had been so accepting, so understanding. They were inseparable now and she could not imagine her life without him. She smiled as she washed her long, black hair. He did not know it, but she had seen the ring in his nightstand, knew he would ask her soon and knew that she would say yes.

Shutting the water, she wrapped herself and then her hair in some towels and sauntered back into the bedroom, where he lay, watching her with rapt attention. She put her necklace with the small cross on it on and eased her way across the room towards him.

"You should get up," she smiled, easing onto the bed and grasping his hand. "You have to get to work too, you know..."

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, "As always, you're right. Okay, I'll get up, but after dinner tonight, I'm opening a bottle of wine and putting on some music and we're going to dance slow and close."

She giggled, "You know what always happens whenever we dance slow and close..."

He reached out gingerly and touched her face, "In know, that's what I'm counting on..."

### Chapter 5

Andrew listened to the song start again for the thousandth time, forcing himself to smile and greet the tourists as they continued to wander onto the boat. He turned, raising his eyebrows and with a little gesture, called Ziggy over.

"We got a full house, damn boy!" whispered Ziggy excitedly.

"Do we have to play that damn song all the time?" asked Andrew through his teeth. "I hate it!"

"Look, as long as the people at Disney don't complain, it makes perfect sense," replied Ziggy. "Listen to the words, "Under the sea, under the sea..." it's what we do, man..."

"I didn't ask for the sense of it," replied Andrew, "I'm just tired of hearing that renk song. We play it all damn day long! I hear it in my head all the time, when I make love to a woman I do it in time to that damn song! Can't we find some other song to play?"

"Well, there's that song, "My Heart Will Go On"..."

"Are you frass? It's from a flippin' film about a boat that sinks," replied Andrew. "Do you think that's what we want people hearin', Celine Dion singing about some damn sunken ship while they're boarding our boat?"

Ziggy considered it, "Guess not..."

"What else you got?"

Ziggy frown, making a face that not even a mother could love.

"How about "No Woman, No Cry"? I mean we are Jamaican..."

"What the hell's that got to do with us and a glass bottomed boat?" asked Andrew. "Not even Marley is ALWAYS appropriate...We need something else, something with a connection to the ocean, something that excites them and puts them in the right mood!"

"I'll think on it and let you know," replied Ziggy. "In the meantime, don't ignore our guests and don't forget to mention the drink specials!"

Andrew rolled his eyes just as two couples climbed onboard the gangplank and made their way towards the ship from the dock. The two women were walking just ahead of the men and he took a quick glance at both. The white girl was sexy as hell, wearing a tank top and a pair of snug blue shorts. The taller black girl next to her was sexy too, but she was dressed for some sort of luau, in a swimsuit with a plunging neckline and some sort of faux grass skirt thing wrapped around her booty. Glancing down, he saw she had on shoes with what looked like hermit crabs on them. Behind them walked a mild looking brother, a bit on the chunky side and a super muscular white dude who looked like he would kill you as soon as say hello.

"Welcome," he said in a cheery voice, "so nice to have you aboard!"

"Thank you," replied the two women.

"I'm your captain, Captain Andrew," he stated, giving the woman a beautiful smile as he took their tickets. "If there is anything you'd like, don't hesitate to let me know!"

"I heard you got drinks on this boat," replied the taller woman.

"We got a special today called the "Calypso Colada"," replied Andrew seductively.

The taller woman graced him with a smile, obviously enjoying the view as she drew closer, "So what's so special about it?"

"We make each drink special for lovely ladies like yourselves," he replied. "This drink has a little more rum and a sprinkle of mango juice, you should try one..."

"I will," replied the woman.

"Sounds delicious," smiled the smaller white woman. Turning she looked at the muscle bound man, "Doesn't it sound good?"

Andrew held his breath a moment, expecting a negative remark. The big man looked like a difficult customer. Why would you scowl if your wife or girlfriend or whoever she was to him looked that good?

"Sounds great to me," stated the man, his voice much happier than his facial expression. "Since you guys got the tickets, the drinks are on me."

"Then I'll have two to start," replied the black woman.

"We have a discount for every two drinks," stated Ziggy, peering up at the woman from his place besides Andrew.

The woman looked down at Ziggy, a mixture of fascination and disgust on her face.

"Good God, you in an accident?" she asked.

"No," replied Ziggy.

"You mean you were born looking like that?" asked the woman.

"Ginger," scolded the white woman.

"Sorry girl, but usually a bus got to flip over on you or you have to survive an explosion to look that way," replied Ginger.

"That's me partner, Ziggy. He ain't pretty, but he's got a big old heart and like me, is at your service," interrupted Andrew. "Ziggy, why don't you show the folks where the bar is..."

Ziggy glared at Ginger and then stomped off in the direction of the bar.

Andrew gestured the group towards the bar at the back of the boat and after another glance at the two women, turned to greet the next group of guests.

***

On the dock, no one seemed to notice the two men who stood off to the side, speaking in hushed tones. One man was shorter, muscular, dark skinned and bald. His expression was dour, his head nodded slowly up and down in response to his companion's low voice. Nervously he wiped his hands on his blue shorts and tugged at the bottom of his polo shirt.

His companion spoke in a low growl, his waist length dreadlocks moving ever so slightly as he drew closer to the shorter man. He brushed a hand across the lapel of his expensive suit and his features descended into an unpleasant scowl.

"Remember what Mister Gooden told you, Astin," said the taller man.

"I won't forget, Noel," replied Astin.

"Off with you and remember, the boss wants no screw ups," replied Noel. "I've got business of me own to attend to..."

Astin nodded and made his way up the stairs towards the glass bottomed boat; while Noel returned to the car they had come in and slowly made his way out of the parking lot.

***

The two men sat on the veranda at the hotel, the man in the crisp linens watching his companion in silence. The other man was an handsome police constable, his dark skin and grey beard offering a softening contrast to his neat, bright uniform. He sat watching the other man respectfully, waiting for their conversation to begin.

"I suppose, you're wondering why I asked you to join me, Nestor," stated the man in the crisp linens.

"Yes, Chief Inspector Adams," replied Nestor. "I was a bit surprised to find that you had made the trip over here..."

"There has been a development, Nestor," began the Inspector, leaning closer and dropping his already soft voice. "I would ask that you do not call me Chief Inspector in public. I would prefer to maintain a more anonymous persona for the time being..."

Nestor nodded, his soulful eyes looking at his boss, unable to completely contain his surprise.

"As you wish, sir," he replied. "If you don't mind me saying, I can't imagine what is happening. I mean, you know that the most I do here is break up the occasional fight between drunks. Nothing much happens here, sir, I spend more time taking tourist's pictures than I do most anything else..."

"I am glad that things here are quiet," replied the Inspector, alerting Nestor to the approach of the waitress with a tilt of his head.

"Is there anything else I can get for you gentlemen?" she asked, smiling at Adams, happy to see that he had returned for lunch.

"I would like some coffee, please," replied the Inspector.

"How about some pie?" she replied softly. "We've got some lemon lime pie that is to die for..."

The Inspector smiled shyly, "That would be wonderful, thank you."

"And you, sir?" she asked Nestor.

"Just some tea, if you don't mind," he replied. "Trying to watch my weight, you know..."

The waitress gave the Inspector another lingering glance and then retreated to gather their order.

"What do you think is going to happen, sir?" asked Nestor as the waitress left them.

"Do you know who Douglas Gooden is, Nestor," drawled the Inspector quietly.

"Douglas Gooden," whispered Nestor. "Of course I know who he is; besides being the most wanted man in Jamaica he's one of the biggest drug lords in the Caribbean..."

"He's here, Nestor," interrupted the Inspector.

Nestor stared at him in astonishment before easing back in his chair with a low whistle.

"How can it be, Ins...I mean, sir? He ain't even allowed into the country..."

"And this...this place, Nestor is NOT the country, now is it?" asked the Inspector with heavily hooded eyes.

"No," replied Nestor. "No, sir, it isn't. But still, we hold jurisdiction..."

"Yes, we do, but it isn't always so clear cut is it now, Nestor? The judge decides what and what we don't prosecute here..."

"And him in the pockets of all the money men," sneered Nestor.

The Inspector leaned back and bringing his hands to his chest touched his finger tips together, eyeing his companion.

"If you don't mind me saying, sir, have you called in backup?" asked Nestor anxiously. "I don't think that I've got anything here that is a match for what I'm certain Douglas Gooden and his goons are carrying on them. My service revolver isn't much and I don't even carry it mostly, sir..."

"I have called in the reinforcements, Nestor, but I doubt that this is going to become some sort of gunfight," replied the Inspector, closing his eyes. "There is going to be a wedding. Your job for the time being is to patrol the wedding and keep your eyes on the guests."

Nestor frowned, "A wedding? Douglas Gooden is getting married? But I thought he was married..."

"His wife was killed, died in an explosion meant for him, but it's not his wedding, Nestor, it's his brother's..." drawled the Inspector. "Your job will be to keep an eye on them as inconspicuously as you can, at certain times of course. I do not want you to change ANYTHING regarding your regular routine, at least not immediately. It is absolutely essential that they do not realize that we know they are here, do you understand?"

Nestor nodded, "I understand, sir, but I hadn't bargained on this something like this... Everyone teased me when this job came up, figured it'd be pretty much what it actually is, dealing with tourists and such..."

"I'm sorry if police work occasionally entails something other than taking pictures and looking at attractive women on the beach in their bathing suits," replied the Inspector. "We have a real opportunity here, we do not want to take the chance of making a mistake, so remember, you will not change your routine."

Reaching into his shirt pocket, the Inspector removed a small piece of paper and slid it across the table to Nestor, who palmed it quickly.

"That is the address of the hotel where he is staying. Destroy that note once you've read it. Your morning patrol takes you past there every day. The second address is where the wedding is taking place and the names of the people involved. I want you to keep an eye out for any comings or goings, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," replied Nestor, peering at the information quickly.

"I want a report daily, which you will drop at the post office with your regular interoffice memorandums," stated the Inspector. "Nestor, if you see me in the street, you may approach me, but again, never say my name or rank; greet me as a familiar face, not as a tourist, but as if we know each other..."

The waitress returned, placing their order in front of them respectively.

"Can I get either of you gentlemen anything else?" she asked, her smile inviting.

The Inspector looked at Nestor with calm eyes.

"No ma'am," replied Nestor, staring into his boss's eyes. "Everything here is just fine..."

### Chapter 6

Ming caught the man as he admired her for a split second too long and saw the sharp jab his girlfriend placed into his ribs. Good for her, she thought, I'm glad you did it! Wearing a short white skirt and an unbuttoned navy top that she had tied above her navel over her white bikini top, Ming had been receiving the attention of just about every man on the ship. She knew by her tips that the effect must be pretty powerful but while she did enjoy getting tipped, it was never right for a man to disrespect his girlfriend or wife.

The boat was now underway and she was surprised, her initial reservations about doing the job seemed to melt away. The bar was fairly well stocked, the company polite and Andrew and Ziggy could not be more helpful or happy to have her working for them. Still, she missed working with Winslow, he was her rock in these situations, but Andrew had promised her that if anyone tried absolutely anything, he would take care of it and somehow she trusted him. He and Ziggy had been after her a long time to help out on their boat and from the tips she had been receiving so far, this could be a very lucrative part time job.

She had bent down slowly to retrieve a bottle, allowing the man ordering the drinks a chance to admire her discretely when she glanced up and saw him. She struggled not to drop the bottle and then completely unnerved, she turned her back to the customers for a moment and took a deep breath. What was he doing here? Did he have any idea she was here? What should she do? What if he came over? How should she act? Unconsciously she fingered her necklace briefly; the questions raced through her mind all at once, none of them answerable. Slowly turning back around, she saw that he seemed to be with three other people. A tall, lovely but loud black woman, a white woman, closer to her own height, also very attractive and a large, powerfully built white man. The four seemed to be laughing and enjoying themselves and then suddenly, the large white man turned and made his way towards the bar. People began to make way for him, he looked like someone you would not want to step in front of by accident and soon, he was standing directly in front of her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice sounding very small.

To her surprise, he offered her a slight smile and replied, "Yes, thank you. I'd like four of the Calypso Coladas, please."

Quickly she retreated to one of the three large blenders which she had worked to keep continually full and poured out the man's request. She was fighting hard to control her nerves, forcing herself to take deep breaths and remember to smile.

Turning, she brought the four drinks back on a tray and deposited them on the bar, smiling at the man, who looked at her for an uncomfortably long time.

Unable to stand the suspense, she swallowed hard and asked, "Is there anything else?"

"How much?" he asked with a smile.

"Oh," she replied, a surprised smile breaking out across her face. "Oh, yes, oh..."

"I know that the bartender will occasionally buy a round," he smiled, "but usually it isn't the first one..."

She laughed, "No, I don't think the owners would appreciate that, not on the first round..."

The two laughed and settled the bill and the man grabbed the four plastic glasses, two in each enormous paw and strode off towards the other three, leaving a generous tip behind. It was then; just as he reached them that Carlos saw her. His expression flickered from a pleasant smile to a slightly bewildered look and then back to the smile. His eyes kept dancing back and forth between the people he was with and her while Ming did her best to not look at him and to work with the other guests.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the group of four moved off to the other side of the ship. As they disappeared, the crowd around the bar seemed to grow even larger and Ming was thankful both for the physical barrier they created and for the work that they forced her to perform.

Up above the main deck on the bridge, Andrew maneuvered the boat out towards the coral reef, his earphones firmly planted into each ear. After five hours of "Under the Sea" anything would have been a welcome break, but he was listening to some old school R and B and as he shimmied to the music, he watched the crowd below and his smile grew. He could almost feel the money sliding into their bank account, a most welcome feeling indeed. That and several of the more attractive female passengers had been especially flirty, a fact that promised a good evening as well as a profitable day.

Every person on board seemed to have a plastic glass in their hands and that meant money flowing into the business. The ship was already seventy five percent his and Ziggy's, the bank down to only twenty five percent ownership and if business continued to build the way it had been these last few weeks, well who knew? They could be more than just legitimate small business owners; they could be small business owners looking to expand to midsize. It was their dream to have a fleet of these ships on all of the neighboring islands, to have a group of captains and managers and accountants, REAL accountants working for them because they needed someone to count all the money. It was a dream perhaps, but it could happen, why shouldn't it happen? He and Ziggy joked and played a bit, but they worked hard too and they were good partners. Why shouldn't their business eventually become big business?

Checking his instruments, he plotted his course and checked his watch. Another ten minutes and then he'd make the announcement and get them down below to see the wonders of the sea! Then another fifteen minutes to the next viewing area, fifteen minutes for them to buy a few more Calypso Coladas! He could not help but laugh. Ziggy was a mad man, who the hell would believe that a name like Calypso Colada would have worked so well? Dumbest damn thing he had ever heard of but as Ziggy always said, when you're on vacation, so is your brain. Andrew couldn't help but laugh, Ziggy might be ugly but he was a student of human nature. As far as Andrew was concerned, as long as they bought them, who the hell cared?

***

"Tell me now, do ya need anything else?" asked Ziggy, his enthusiasm so contagious that Ming had to laugh.

"If you'd get me a couple more bottles of rum, we'll be fine," she replied.

"You got it girl," he laughed and began running towards the passageway door. He stopped and turned excitedly, appearing as if he might start jumping up and down. "I told you, didn't I! Come and work with us and you won't regret it! You ever have so many tips in your life?"

"Get the rum," she replied with a giggle. "We open again in ten minutes!"

Ziggy offered her the largest smile on the ugliest face she had ever seen and then turned to run down the small stairways to the storage area below decks.

She was just setting up the last of the plastic cups when she heard the voice behind her say softly, "It's been a long time, hasn't it Ming?"

Turning slowly, she looked at Carlos, his large, sad brown eyes examining her.

"That it has, Carlos," she replied softly. She swallowed hard, "Heard you got engaged. Congratulations, I'm sure..."

"Never thought I'd marry anyone other than you...told my fiancé I had to go to the bathroom," he replied with a shrug. "I don't have but a moment, but I was hoping we could talk..."

"Well, I'm working now," she replied. "Perhaps we could meet..."

He shook his head, "Trust me; Ginger, that's my fiancé, she doesn't let me out of her sight for much longer than a bathroom break. Come; step outside with me for a moment...what I have to say won't take long..."

Ming nodded, why not? She owed him that much. Following him, she stepped out onto the deck just beyond the bar area to the back of the boat, away from prying eyes.

***

Robert shifted his weight and heaved the scuba tank out of the storage hut and onto the cart just outside of the door. It was one of three that he needed to transport to the front of the store to be loaded onto the beach wagon.

"Business is booming today, Robert," stated his boss, a heavy set white man with a loud Hawaiian shirt on. "Hurry up, we need the tanks up front, there's another group of tourist headed for the beach in ten minutes and we have to get the boat ready..."

Pushing the cart away from the storage shed, Robert did not see the tall man with waist length dreadlocks approaching the store. The man looked in his direction, hesitated and then changed course, heading towards the front door of the scuba store.

Robert pushed the cart through the main aisle of the store, greeting happy and expectant tourists and made his way out through the front door where his friend Derrick grabbed the cart handle from him.

"Thanks, Rob," he stated happily. "I'll take it from here. There's a line growing, we're going to be crazy busy today."

"Just be careful out there," smiled Robert. "Want to grab a beer when you get back tonight?"

"Sounds like a plan," replied Derrick. "Later, man..."

"Later," replied Robert with a slight wave as he moved back into the store and settled in behind the counter.

He had just finished booking his third couple, setting them up for scuba lessons and preparing them for the beauty they would see beneath the waves when the tall man approached him.

"Good afternoon, sir," he stated, too busy to find it odd that a man would come down to book a scuba session in such an expensive suit.

"Not for all of us," mumbled the man, watching as Robert bent to his left to get a few more forms and brochures out of the desk draw.

As Robert reached for the brochures, he suddenly felt a hard object thrust against his chest. Before he could react he heard a click and a soft pop, felt a searing pain and then all went black.

***

Nestor stood happily in the middle of a group of women, all clad in barely there bikinis and all raising their drinks towards a young man with a tiny camera. The woman on his right appeared to be from India and as she glanced up at him innocently, she grabbed a healthy handful of his backside, a daring that made the smile on Nestor's face grow even wider. These young girls couldn't seem to get enough of an old man in uniform, he chuckled to himself. Just another perk of being a policeman in paradise...

His radio crackled to life and he winced just as the camera flashed. Another drunk call, probably...

"Officer Nestor report immediately to the Olde Kountry Market area, repeat, Officer Nestor to the Olde Kountry Market area, IMMEDIATELY!"

Nester detached himself and his buttocks from the group and pulling the two way radio from his waist belt responded, "This is Officer Nester, I copy, over."

"Nestor, you've got to get to the Scuba and Surf Shop," replied the voice on the other end.

Nestor smiled, it was his friend Ingrid's voice. She worried so about him, always afraid something might happen to Nestor, it warmed his heart.

"What is it this time, Ingrid?" he asked with a laugh, strolling in the opposite direction towards his scooter. "Another drunk call..."

"Someone been shot, Nestor," she replied, her voice in a panic. "Something bad is happening over there, people are calling in a panic, it sounds like chaos down there! For God's sake, get going and be careful!"

Nestor replaced the radio in his belt and turned, taking off at a sprint. The Scuba and Surf Shop was about three blocks to his left, his scooter about four to his right. Nestor was in excellent condition for a man half his age and he covered the three blocks in record time. He found the market in a state of chaos, people running and yelling, panic everywhere.

Raising his voice, he started to call out as he approached the front of the store, "CLEAR THE AREA. I WANT EVERYONE TO CLEAR THE AREA, THIS IS THE POLICE. CLEAR THE AREA NOW!"

People pulled away from the front of the store, looking at him nervously and then melting backwards into the growing crowd that surrounded the store front. Entering the store, Nestor found it completely empty except for the owner, a fat man in a loud Hawaiian shirt who stood off to his left, sweating and looking terrified.

"He's there, Nestor, over there...I called you and I called the ambulance...WHERE THE HELL IS THE AMBULANCE?" he snapped, his nerves giving way.

"Calm down, Ari, calm down," replied Nestor as he slowly approached the front counter.

He stared down, looking at the crumpled heap behind the counter, the young man's lifeless eyes staring at him, a surprised look on his face. Nestor scanned downwards, looked at the hole in the man's chest, good God, he thought, I could put my head through that hole. Nestor shook his head, what the hell was he shot with; a cannon? His thoughts flitted towards his conversation with the inspector, Douglas Gooden's people; they killed like this, up close and dead on bloody. Nestor had been semi-retired to this island paradise, a reward for an excellent career. He had been one of the best police officers on the island of Jamaica and it all came back now, all the training, the eye for detail, everything. He stared back into the boy's eyes; you'll get justice my son, you'll get justice if I have anything to say about it...

"Nestor, where is the damn AMBULANCE?" snapped Ari again.

"I want you to go outside and wait for the ambulance," replied Nestor, not turning to face him and hearing the sound of the siren approaching. "You tell those boys not to hurry and to touch nothing when they enter this store, you hear? There's nothing they can do for this boy anymore, but I can...I will..."

### Chapter 7

Kelly Davis sat and stared out of the large glass panel opposite her seat in the bottom of the boat. She had always wanted to do this, take a tour on a glass bottom boat, to see the wonders of nature up close and personal. She and her husband David had been planning this trip for almost a year and she was determined not to miss a thing.

David worked construction and she was a nurse and while they made good money together, there never seemed to be any time for them to just be together. While he was a wonderful man and a good husband, David was not a planner, so it had fallen upon Kelly, as it always did, to plan the trip, set up their itinerary and make sure that they saw everything they should see while they were here. She smiled happily to herself; it was part of the reason that they worked as a couple. She did the planning and David followed her lead and that was that. She glanced over her notes; after the glass bottom boat tour, she had scheduled a bus tour of the island's highlights for after dinner. According to her, that gave them two free hours after this to go back to the room, shower and get ready for dinner, that was, of course, if the boat docked on time. Tomorrow was breakfast, paragliding, lunch, a trip to the pirate museum and recreated colonial fort and then dinner and a show at the Captain's Cove, the nightclub in their hotel. They weren't going to miss anything, she'd make sure of that...

Mentally, Kelly refocused on the scene outside of her window. What was this? There had been a large turtle there a moment before, but now, there was something else drifting into view. For a moment, her mind had trouble focusing, was that seaweed? No, no that was hair! It was a girl, what was a girl doing under the boat? Was this some sort of mermaid show? There had been nothing in the brochure about a mermaid show...wait, she wasn't dressed as a mermaid...Good Lord, her top is all eschew, one of her boobs is hanging out! Kelly glanced away and then looked back, why didn't she straighten herself out? She looked at the girl's face, stared into her eyes and saw the girl staring back at her, unblinking, mouth open...mouth open under water? Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD!

Kelly screamed, a short surprised burst of sound that brought the murmur of the other passengers to a halt. Her husband Dave was sitting next to her and peered over to see what she was looking at.

"Holy shit..." he whispered.

Kelly felt an arm wrap around her ribcage and her body being hoisted upwards as she continued to stare at the woman, the unblinking woman. Her scream was longer this time and louder, much louder.

***

Andrew was grooving now, alone on the bridge, his headphones clamped tightly to his head, his tunes blasting in his ears. The boat was drifting ever so slightly, in another minute he would kick the engines into high and take them out and around to the final reef, plenty of time for them to drink and party until they arrived there, plenty of time to count all the cash they were making! His music was so loud and his thoughts so pleasant, he never heard the door of the bridge slam open or the sound of the big white man's footsteps behind him. All he knew was that one minute, Ziggy Marley was in his ears and then next, he was gone, replaced by some voice shouting, "...THE FUCKING BOAT!"

Andrew wheeled about as if burned and looked at the huge white man, his angry face mere inches from his own. Andrew felt his own anger rising and he turned on the man.

"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY, MAN?" he snapped. "YOU DON'T MESS WITH A BLACK MAN'S MUSIC! I'M A GONNA KILL..."

"THERE IS A DEAD WOMAN UNDER THE BOAT!" replied the white man, not backing away at all. "STOP THE FUCKING BOAT!"

Andrew absorbed his words and blinked. Dead woman? What dead woman?

Ziggy stuck his ugly face into the room, his expression one of terror.

"STOP THE BOAT, ANDREW, STOP THE DAMN BOAT!"

Andrew slammed the engines to halt and looked at the two men, "Dead woman?"

"Under the boat," replied the white man, "Come on, you're the captain..."

With that, he turned and headed back towards the door, Andrew falling into step behind him. As they descended the stairs to the deck, he could see that all of the passengers were gathered at the back of the boat, all of them looking frightened. The big white man led the way down the second set of stairs into the glass bottomed hull. The light in the area was a bright teal, curved white lines bouncing off of the ceiling and walls. Andrew followed the man, who came to rest at the second to last glass panel and pointed towards it. He stared out for a moment, his mind slowly coming to grips with what he was seeing. He turned and found Ziggy squatted next to him, his eyes wide.

"Ming," whispered Andrew.

"Ming," replied Ziggy, his voice pained.

Andrew looked at the big white man, saw his features softening.

"I'm sorry for yelling," said the big man. "We need to contact the police."

Andrew nodded, "I'll drop anchor, get on the radio..." His mind struggled to function again, found its footing, "Ziggy, keep the rest of the guests on the back of the boat, no more drinks, no one leaves the group except to go to the bathroom. Make them as comfortable as possible. We don't go nowhere or do nothing until the police arrive, let them know that, understand?"

Ziggy continued to stare out the glass panel, nodding, "Yeah, man, I understand."

"Can I help?" offered the big white man. "I've got a little experience on boats and I've worked with the police..."

"Yeah, man," replied Andrew softly. "Stick with me; we might need some help..."

***

Melissa gasped as she saw the scuba diver gently push the basket upwards from the water, the dead woman strapped inside, her head flopping to the side as the other police officers heaved the basket onto the police launch. A blanket was quickly placed over her as the basket was slid towards the back of the launch, a few of the officers conversing with the diver.

Turning, she found Vance behind her, his arms slipping around her waist.

"Are you all right, Mel?"

She nodded, "I'm okay, that poor woman..."

"I'm sorry I haven't been here with you," he said softly. "I was just trying to help..."

Mel laughed slightly, "I know where you are; whenever there is trouble, I'll find you right in the middle of it."

"Sorry," he smiled, pulling her close.

He looked over her shoulder at the police launch, he had joked with the woman just a little while ago, an attractive girl who had seemed nervous. He had just chalked it up to his size, he knew he could be intimidating, unnerving to some people. It hadn't struck him as odd, should it have?

"Where are Ginger and Carlos?" he asked absently.

"They were standing at the back of the boat," replied Melissa with a roll of her eyes. "Carlos has said nothing. Ginger, on the other hand, has more than a few theories about what happened, the last one being that the people at the Calypso Grill killed the girl because she was infringing on their copyright for Calypso Coladas. She's also in a panic that they won't be able to pick up her mother and sister at the airport in time."

"I'd forgotten about them," replied Vance. "I hope we can get word to them..."

Another police launch pulled alongside of the glass bottom boat and an impressive looking, bald headed man accepted Andrew's hand as he heaved himself aboard ship. Stepping over the rail, he stood on the deck in an impressive looking, khaki colored uniform, his hooded eyes inspecting the crowd, his face impassive. Andrew was talking softly to him, his words flowing quickly.

The inspector turned and nodded at him, "You did a fine job, captain. Our men will remain here to scour the reef for clues; I would appreciate it if you turned about and returned to port. I would like to set up an area where I might interview your customers one at a time."

"I can set you up in the bar," stated Andrew. "Hope that's not disrespectful, but it's the only place where you can have some room and speak with people with some privacy."

"No disrespect taken," stated the Inspector. "I understand that your ship was not built with a police investigation in mind." Turning towards the crowd, he nodded at one couple who stood near the back of the ship, "Do you see that couple, the heavy set fellow and the tall woman with the long nails and multicolored hair?"

Andrew nodded.

"They will be last people interviewed. When we get to port, you may release the rest of the guests after I have interviewed them unless I tell you otherwise, but those two, in all likelihood, will be coming with me. Now, let us go to the bar and in a moment, I will ask you to send in the person who spotted the deceased first..."

***

Back on shore, Nestor had sealed off the store, the ambulance having just taken the body away. He shook his head, so young, why would someone just walk up to him and shoot him like that? Drugs, gangs, revenge who knew? There was no motive to consider at this point. With the body gone, he reexamined the area where it had lain behind the counter. From the look of it, he had been bending over to pick something up out of the desk draw. Peering inside, he saw a few stacks of papers, brochures, forms, nothing out of the ordinary. He hadn't been reaching for a weapon, had not reacted in any way to protect himself from the position of the body. No, he wasn't expecting whoever it was to shoot him, from the look on his face, he had been surprised.

He looked at the wall, the blood and gore surrounding the hole. Leaning down, he looked at the hole, the bullet was still in there. Thank God the wall had stopped it or it might have gone into the shop next door and killed someone else. He had sent one of the ambulance boys to retrieve his scooter, had taken his kit out from the storage area under the seat. With his elastic gloves in place, he fiddled with the field bag, made sure it was open and then took out the long, bent tweezers and carefully extracted the bullet, dropping it into the bag. 357, he'd guess, whoever it was took no chances on the boy surviving the impact. From what was left and the size of the hole in the wall and in the boy, it had been a hollow point or perhaps a plastic tipped.

He thought of the witnesses, no one had heard anything; he must have used a silencer. No one could describe the gunman, some said he was tall, others short, some said black, others said Asian...had there been two of them? Had people mistaken one man for the other? Without the report of a gun firing, none of them had looked up at the desk at the same time. He glanced at the camera, shaking his head. Broken two months ago, the owner too "busy" to get it fixed. Business was too good, he thought, didn't care about any shop lifting going on, just get the money as quick as it came in, raise the prices a bit to cover whatever might be pocketed.

A sketch artist was busy working with the four people who claimed to have seen the man at the counter at the time of the shooting or just afterwards. Her had spoken briefly to Ingrid. Inspector Adams had already closed the airport and the ports, no traffic in or out. She had told him something about trouble just off the island, someone being killed on a boat. Had heard the initial reports, the mainland police jumping on that one, the Inspector telling him to work on this for now, help was on its way and they would coordinate later.

He felt as if he were forgetting something. He had taken the photos, had bagged the evidence, dusted for prints, interviewed the witnesses and examined everything as minutely as he could. He shook his head, it was a tourist business, he thought, scanning the room, they'd never identify a tenth of the prints he'd found, besides, the killer would be too smart to leave a print, too busy killing his target. The word stuck in his mind, target.

Whoever it was had hunted this boy, had killed him not in a rage, not out of anger, but cold and efficiently. It might be drugs or gang related, the cause might be many things but of one thing he was certain. Whoever had done it knew what he was doing. This was no amateur, no angry vacationer who had been denied a scuba spot on the next roster. Whoever had done this, had done it before.

### Chapter 8

The boat had docked over an hour ago and the voice had grown louder with each passing minute. The other policemen had begun to appear nervous; the voice grating on their nerves, the ever increasing volume and demands distracting, but Inspector Adams seemed to take no notice of it, focusing on nothing but the person or persons directly in front of him. He continued to speak in his quiet voice, asking his questions, probing, thinking, reconstructing, taking notes. The last two couples and the owners were the only ones left on board with the policemen now, the Inspector nodding as he listened to the last of Melissa's statement.

"Thank you, Doctor Tibbet," said the Inspector, his eyes downcast, looking at the notepad that he held in his lap. "I believe that you and your husband are free to go. If we require any additional information, I will contact you, we have your information."

"Thank you, Inspector," said Melissa as she rose and retrieved her pocketbook. "May we wait outside; our friends are the last couple..."

"Yes," he replied with a slow nod. "The Goodens, isn't it?"

"Well, they aren't quite married yet..." replied Melissa.

"Ah, yes," smiled the Inspector, checking his notes again. "My mistake...they are getting married in a few days, is that not correct?"

"Yes," smiled Melissa. "My husband and I came down for the wedding..."

"Yes," replied the Inspector, "yes, you had said. Well, if you wish to wait for them, you may do so outside. I don't believe we will be long."

"Thank you, Inspector," replied Melissa. "I hope you find whoever did this."

"I hope so as well, my dear," replied the Adams.

He watched her leave, saw her husband through the windows, watched him embrace her when she came through the doors, talking to her as the two headed back towards the aft of the boat.

"Now, Inspector?" asked the young officer. "She's in a state..."

"Yes, Jenkins, send them in," replied the Inspector. A woman yells and they get upset. So much that theses youngster had yet to learn, so much...

"Where the hell is the man in charge?" snapped Ginger as she stormed into the bar. Looking up at the Inspector, she stomped up to him, eyes squinting and full of fury, "You in charge?"

"I am Inspector Neville Adams, madam," he replied, his voice barely raised above a whisper. "Won't you please sit down?"

Ginger plopped down onto the chair in front of him, "Did they tell you I had a mother and sister waiting for me at the airport?"

The Inspector graced her with the slightest of smiles, "I believe the entire ship is aware of that fact, but I will try to make this as brief as possible." He heard the door open and returned his gaze to the papers in his lap, "Good afternoon, Carlos."

"Good afternoon, Inspector Adams," replied Carlos, slowly sauntering in and lowering himself into the seat next to Ginger.

"You know this man?" she screeched, turning her rage on Carlos. "If you knew him, why didn't you tell him we had to pick up my mother?"

"I don't believe your husband was quite as anxious as you were for me to find out that he was on board," replied the Inspector. Looking up, he nodded at Carlos, "Been a long time..."

"A very long time," replied Carlos.

"Over eight years," replied the Inspector. "I understand congratulations are in order. You are to marry shortly..."

"Coming from you, that means a lot, Inspector," replied Carlos calmly. "I am sorry about your wife..."

A slight flicker of light in the Inspector's eye was the only indication that the words had hit their target.

"I appreciate your sympathy," smiled Adams, returning his attention to the papers before him.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" snapped Ginger. "I have a mother to pick up! Who the hell cares about his wife?"

"It might not concern you," replied the Inspector calmly, "but ever since your fiancé and his brother killed my wife, I have done my best to see that she gets justice."

Ginger stared at the man for a moment, for once unable to respond.

"Now Carlos," continued the Inspector. "Is there anything you wish to tell me about the death of your former fiancé?"

"Ming was never my fiancé," replied Carlos. "I admit, I saw her when we got on the boat and I went to talk to her. She wished me well with my impending marriage and I wished her well in her new life and we left each other as friends. That was about a half hour before she appeared..." Carlos gestured towards the bottom of the boat.

"Former fiancé?" asked Ginger softly. "You KNEW her?"

"Oh, Carlos knew Ming very well, didn't you Carlos?" asked the Inspector, leaning back leisurely and eyeing Carlos with a frown. "They used to travel quite a bit together; Monte Carlo, Paris, New York, Tokyo, Singapore, yes, you two were quite the traveling pair. You enjoyed the highlife together for what, four, five years?"

"You know the truth about that," replied Carlos. "Dougie sent us on those trips..." He shook his head, looked at Ginger. "I was young, okay. My brother had a lot of money and he set me up in style. I had my own house, girls, servants, the works and it was great. I met Ming at a party, we hit it off. Dougie would send us off on vacation, he never takes vacations, but he gave me money, told me different places to go and we'd go and enjoy ourselves. Wouldn't you do the same if someone else were footing the bill?" Turning towards the Inspector he continued, "Ming wanted to settle down, start a family. No disrespect for the dead but I wasn't ready for that, I didn't want to settle down with Ming or no one else, so I left. I came to New York and started a new life, got my head on straight, met you." He turned back to Ginger and gestured towards Adams. "He never liked me brother, always hated Dougie!"

"Ah, your brother Douglas," smiled the Inspector. "The importer/exporter...is that what you still tell people?"

"That's what he does," replied Carlos, his anger growing.

"Oh yes, he imports and exports lots of things," replied the Inspector smoothly. "Heroin, cocaine, guns, prostitutes; your brother is a very busy man."

"I wouldn't know," replied Carlos. "I haven't seen him..."

"In eight years, that is until this morning," replied Adams, his dark eyes burning into Carlos. "Yes, you two had a nice little breakfast this morning and then you came here, just happened to come here..."

"He gave us the tickets," stated Ginger.

"I have no doubt that he did," replied the Inspector. "He needed his brother on board to kill his former girlfriend, Ming, to silence one more voice that could tell their story."

"He gave us the trip as a pre-wedding present," snapped Carlos. "I had nothing to do with Ming dying; I haven't seen her in eight years..."

"You admit you were alone with her half an hour before her body was discovered," replied the Inspector. "Who else saw you with her?"

Carlos shrugged, "We went to speak in private..."

"When the hell was that?" snapped Ginger.

"When I went to the bathroom," confessed Carlos. "I went to speak to her, just wanted to clear the air. There was no hard feelings, she had moved on with her life just like I did. She had a boyfriend, she was happy. I told her about you and that I was happy and we wished each other well, that's all..."

"I'm arresting you, Carlos Gooden, willful murder on suspicion," stated the Inspector, a slight hand gesture bringing two young constables to either side of Carlos.

"You can't arrest him!" snapped Ginger. "I've got to pick up my mother and sister tonight at the airport! How the hell am I going to explain this to them?"

Adams raise an eyebrow, but his voice was the same quiet, calm voice, "I apologize for inconveniencing your mother, madam, but I really have no choice. We aren't allowed to let murderers go even if they have people waiting for them at the airport."

Ginger looked as the two officers cuffed Carlos. What the hell was going on? What should she do?

***

Astin sat opposite Noel at a small table; each now dressed in swim trunks and t-shirts as they sipped their drinks. Astin was young and now that the job was done, his eye for the ladies was reasserting itself. To his pleasure, there was no shortage of available girls on this island. In stark contrast, Noel seemed to appreciate nothing about the place, merely drinking quietly while he watched everything and said nothing at all.

"Now that we're done, you think Mister Gooden will let us have a little fun?" asked Astin, his eyes fixed longingly on a light skinned girl in a tiny bikini dancing on the beach with her girlfriend.

"I don't see no problem with it," snarled Noel, looking past Astin towards the girl. "A bit young for fun and games, ain't she?"

"I like them young," replied Astin. "Give them a little experience..."

Noel shook his head, all these fools, they all talked big. Why a man needed to talk about women was beyond him, they were nothing but trouble. Find yourself a good prostitute for the night, get it over with and get back to work, that was his feeling on relationships. In the business especially, never get attached. Attachments made you vulnerable just look at that jackass of an Inspector. Even Mister Gooden had let it happen to him, though Noel would never comment on that anywhere but inside his head...

"Do you think he'll want to speak with us soon?" asked Astin.

"Doubtful," replied Noel. "He's not going to want to see you for a time, not till things cool down. Did Adams recognize you?"

"Nothing," replied Astin. "He don't know me and I don't know him, all was good."

"Fine," replied Noel. "If you want to enjoy yourself then, go ahead. I'll contact you when Mister Gooden wants you. Until then, stick to your story and remember, gone in two days. I don't care what you do with your time, but if you're here in two days time, I'll make sure you ain't anywhere in three."

"Two days, Noel, no problem," smiled Astin, rising up and taking his drink.

He sauntered over the white sands and stood near the young girls dancing. Noel could not hear the conversation, but he saw the girls laughing, flirting. After a time, a waiter arrived and took their drink order and Astin was dancing with the girls, laughing and having a fine time.

Noel watched for a short time longer and then rose to leave. He would need to speak to Mister Gooden and find out what he wanted done about Carlos.

***

Ginger, Melissa and Vance stood, waiting for the passengers to disembark and make their way from the tarmac to the airport's reception area.

"I'm never gonna hear the end of this," stated Ginger glumly. "My sister is little Miss Perfect, my Mama, she's just gonna never leave me hear the end of this..."

"I checked with the Inspector," said Vance quietly. "There won't be a hearing until later in the week if all goes according to schedule. Until the lawyers speak to a judge, Carlos doesn't have a chance of getting out."

"How could he go and get himself arrested?" snapped Ginger. "And for murder of all things? Damn fool, all he needed to do was tell her, "I got me a real woman, don't need your skanky foreign ass no more"..."

"Ginger, please, some respect for the dead," interrupted Melissa. "Whoever killed that girl needs to be brought to justice."

Vance nodded his agreement, his mind replaying the day. There were some questions that he would like to satisfy his curiosity on. Returning his attention to the ladies, he found Ginger ignoring his wife's suggestion.

"Do you understand how this affects my wedding?" asked Ginger angrily. "Without a groom, there's a slight hole in the plans. Makes it damn difficult to walk down the aisle when there's no one at the other end, don't you think? Now don't get me wrong, all the damn man does is show up, get drunk and act like an ass anyway, but for the ceremony they are usually a somewhat necessary part of the action! He had one job, one damn job and he can't even do that! Damn it, Melissa, I spent months planning this wedding..."

"I know, I spent months answering my own phone while you looked at bridal magazines," replied Melissa.

"Priorities, girl, priorities," replied Ginger, shaking her head. Turning to Vance she looked at him sympathetically, "She's a beautiful girl and has a kind heart, but how do you stand it when she gets into these "It's-all-about-me" moods?"

Before Vance could reply, she looked past him and her eyes grew larger, "My mother, it's my mother!"

Vance turned to see an elderly black woman dressed in a light blue skirt and suit jacket, gray haired carefully arranged with a small light blue hat on her head. Behind her, a shy looking, young black woman in a conservative skirt and top held a large hand bag. Somehow, this was not what he had expected, though what he had imagined he could not truly voice. He expected someone loud, somewhat angry, dressed inappropriately for her age, shouting questionable wisdom from the mountain tops. This woman looked like she had just returned from a breakfast meeting at church and was being trailed by her virginal daughter to a bible study class.

Ginger flowed out to meet them, arms thrown wide. Vance and Melissa watched the greetings from a discrete distance, waiting for Ginger to bring them back.

"This is my friend, Melissa," stated Ginger, pointing her mother and sister in their direction, "and her husband, Boxcar."

Ginger's mother frowned, "Boxcar, did you say?"

"Vance," stated Vance, extending his hand towards the woman, who peered up at him with a slightly puzzled expression. "Your daughter calls me Boxcar..."

"Why do you call the man Boxcar?" asked her mother.

"He look like one," replied Ginger gesturing at Vance. "Look at him; he's big and square with no neck..."

Her mother eyed Vance, her confusion fading into acceptance, "What should I call you?"

"You can call me Vance or anything you like," he smiled.

"Vance then," replied the mother. "And Melissa, such a lovely girl; Ginger has told me so much about you."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," responded Melissa, moving forward and giving Ginger's mother a quick hug.

"You are a very patient woman," replied the mother. "Saintly; that's the word I want... Don't you think so Celia?"

"From all that I've heard, yes," smiled Ginger's sister shyly.

She was not as tall as Ginger, her figure hidden by the fit of her clothing, her voice much softer, and her attitude much less direct. Her brown eyes were calm and warm and shy and her face pretty and unadorned. Her black hair was cut stylishly and she wore a cream colored skirt and beige top. She glanced from Melissa to Vance and then back to the ground.

"And where is my soon to be son in law?" asked Ginger's mother, looking around inquisitively.

Ginger frowned, "He's being detained."

"Detained?" asked her mother.

"Held up?" asked Melissa, searching for a way to ease into the revelation.

"Held up?" asked Celia uncertainly.

"He's been arrested," explained Vance quietly.

"Arrested?" asked Ginger's mother. "What do you mean, arrested, Vance?"

"The police have him in jail on suspicion of murder," stated Ginger flatly.

"MURDER?" snapped her mother.

"Don't over react," replied Ginger with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Ain't like you don't know anyone who's ever been in jail..."

"Don't know no one who's been a murderer," replied her mother haughtily.

"Carlos didn't kill no one," replied Ginger. "Probably just his drug lord brother..."

"His brother's a drug lord?" simpered Celia. "Oh my..."

"Might be," corrected Ginger. "Might be nothing more than an importer/exporter..."

"They don't put men in jail for being related to importer/exporters," stated Ginger's mother.

"Ain't a big deal," replied Ginger. "No worse than the time Uncle Eddie set Aunt Celeste on fire..."

"Hush," replied her mother, looking around to see who was listening. "You know that was an accident!"

"Just like the divorce that happened immediately afterward was an accident too," replied Ginger. "Every family got skeletons, who are we to judge?"

"But murder?" asked Celia. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"I ain't happy about it," replied Ginger. "You think I want my man in jail? We got to get him out! Carlos is pretty and if he stays in prison much longer, he's gonna end up someone's bitch..."

"Ginger!" snapped her mother and Melissa in unison.

"Oh, like I'm the only one who thought it," she replied to the two of them. "Come on, let's go get something to eat and we can fill you in on the details. My main concern is that we might have to put the ceremony back..."

"You ain't thinking of marrying him with this thing hanging over his head, are you?" asked her mother.

"That's true love, Mama," said Celia, dewy eyed.

"True love my ass," replied Ginger. "That's true, "Non-Refundable Deposit", that's what the hell that is and don't make no mistake about it!"

"You don't believe he did it, do you?" asked Celia.

"Who did he supposedly kill?" asked Ginger's mother.

"His ex-fiancé," replied Vance.

"He was engaged to someone else before Ginger and he killed HER?" asked Ginger's mother.

"Yes, that's what the police say," replied Melissa.

"The man's innocent," replied Ginger's mother. "If he didn't kill his present fiancé, ain't no way he killed his past one..."

"You always picking on me," replied Ginger.

"Don't hate me for statin' the truth," replied her mother, eyes cast heavenwards. "Lord knows, I tried to teach you..."

"Oh God, here we go..."

"Don't you bother God now," replied her mother. "Poor man's got enough to deal with without you coming to him and giving him all the problems you make..."

"Oh, blah, blah, blah," replied Ginger. "So I ain't no goody-two-shoes like Miss Thing here..."

"Leave me out of this..." began Celia.

"Yeah, you'd like that, don't bring little Celia into it, butter don't melt in her mouth..."

"We'll go get a taxi," said Melissa, grabbing Vance by the arm and heading towards the door.

"Two taxis," said Vance. "Make it two..."

### Chapter 9

"F.N.J is here to see you," Katarina stated, a large smile on her face.

Christopher looked up from his paperwork, a slight confusion marking his features.

"F.N.J?"

"Facking Not Job," replied Katarina, "remember, you said don't call her crazy, use her initials..."

"Oh, yes," replied Christopher. "I'd had such a peaceful night that I'd almost forgotten that the bride of Satan was our guest."

"Do you want me to call her, B.O.S?" asked Katarina.

"B.O.S?" asked Christopher.

"Bride of Satan," she replied reasonably.

"No, F.N.J. is perfectly useable," he replied. Looking about his desk for a moment, he smiled up at her, "As there seems to be no large object to slam against my skull, I suppose I'm as ready as I ever will be, so please, my dear, send her in."

"Yes, Mister Christopher."

Katarina turned and sauntered off, her black pants hugging the delicious curves of her backside. Christopher smiled; if he could ever make the transition from friend to lover he would be a very happy man...

"He in here?" snapped Ginger.

"Yes," replied Katarina. "He is expecting you now."

Ginger walked into the office and stared at Christopher for a moment, her face in an unpleasant frown, "I need to speak to you..."

"Please come in," replied Christopher, his best insincere smile plastered upon his face.

"I don't know if you know, but my fiancé is in jail," she stated, plopping down into the chair opposite him.

"Really? I had no idea..."

"Yeah, they arrested him for murder, some woman on a boat..."

"Were you also on the boat?" asked Christopher.

"Yes," replied Ginger.

Christopher considered it, "Did he miss his intended target?"

"Look, my mother and sister are here now and I want them to stay in his old room and I want to cancel their room. I'm going to need to save some money for his defense..."

"I understand," lied Christopher.

"Also, this is a big hotel, ain't it?" she asked, looking around and taking a measure of the place.

"We are the largest resort on the island," replied Christopher.

"Then you must know some lawyers," she replied, shifting in her seat.

"We have several on retainer," replied Christopher, "but they aren't criminal attorneys..."

"Who the hell ever heard of an attorney who ain't a criminal?" asked Ginger.

"No, that's not what I meant..."

"Look, I'm looking for the biggest crook of the bunch, someone who plays dirty. You know anyone like that?"

Christopher raised his eyebrow haughtily, "We are a legitimate business, madam..."

"Yeah, that's why you got Slavic Cindy working out there for three dollars an hour," replied Ginger with a wave of her hand. "Probably a huge step up for her from being on the list as a mail order bride..."

"I beg your pardon..."

"I ain't got time to pardon you," replied Ginger. "I need the rooms changed and the name of a lawyer as soon as possible. Also, I might need to change the date of my wedding reception..."

"We can't do that," replied Christopher, horrified. "Weddings are booked here YEARS in advance..."

"I ain't talking waiting a year," replied Ginger. "I might need a day or two, that's all..."

"I'm sorry, madam, but I cannot change the date of your reception," replied Christopher flatly. "I cannot rearrange other people's events to accommodate a new time for you..."

"What the hell am I going to do with a reception if the groom is in jail?" snapped Ginger.

"Perhaps you could change it into an escape party," replied Christopher. "I really don't care, I cannot change the date, sorry, that is final!"

Ginger rose, "I'm going to write the nastiest letter to your boss that he's ever received!"

"I'm truly sorry to hear that," replied Christopher, "but there is NOTHING we can do!"

Ginger turned and sashayed out of the room, her head held high, her wedgies clonking regally on the thick carpet.

Katarina peeked around the corner of his office door, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he replied, "why?"

"I thought I heard you moan," she replied innocently.

"You did," he replied. "It's not important. With any luck she'll leave in a week or so or I'll be hit by lightning. Is it raining outside?"

Katarina shook her head, "No, no rain."

"Damn it," replied Christopher. "Where the hell is the lightning when you need it?"

***

"Well?" asked Melissa as she combed her hair.

Vance looked at her and frowned in thought.

"I think we have to go back to the boat," he said softly.

He thought of their conversation last night, the two discussing the details of the day at great length. Something did not seem right about the entire episode, the death, the quick arrest; it was too cut and dry for Vance's taste.

"What are you hoping to find?" asked Melissa, lowering herself onto the bed and picking up her sneakers.

"I'm not sure," he replied. "I need to see if he could have done it in the time they're saying he did. He wasn't gone that long, if he had been, Ginger would have gotten annoyed, so his time was limited."

"What if the boat is out?" asked Melissa.

"I doubt it," he replied. "Before we left yesterday, I heard the inspector say something about it being a crime scene and it having to be worked over. That usually takes some time and you have to remember, they don't have facilities on this island, it's all over on the main island, it will take them some time to get everything they need here."

"I'm fine with going back," replied Melissa. "I really don't relish the idea of getting between Ginger and her mother and sister. I was afraid that they were going to call security at dinner last night..."

"Well, let them spend the day together, by the time we return this afternoon, maybe they will have punched themselves out," stated Vance hopefully. "Ginger said she was going to try to renegotiate some room rates this morning, hopefully that will give us some time without her."

"I can't imagine," said Melissa, rising with Vance from the bed and heading towards the door. "The poor girl came here hoping to get married and instead is thrown into the middle of something like this..."

"Let's find out what we can," stated Vance as he opened the door and ushered her out into the hall. "Maybe we'll find something that will help."

***

"Do you have any information on that young man from yesterday?" asked Inspector Adams softly.

Nestor looked up from his desk and picked up a file he had started. It had been a long night with very little sleep. He had been on the phone half the night with representatives from the resorts. They were all calling to voice their concern about what the news of the murders would do to the tourist trade. He also had to deal with the panicked tourists, vacationers suddenly finding themselves thrust into the middle of a murder investigation. In addition to all of the fear and anxiety, there were two murder investigations to conduct.

"His name was Robert, Robert Crawford, he was Ming's boyfriend," replied Nestor. "Worked at the scuba shop for the last two years, was dependable and very well liked by everyone, never any trouble. Spoke to his co-workers, neighbors, no one had anything but good things to say about him, loved him and loved Ming. I searched their apartment with the forensics people yesterday, turned up nothing except..."

Adams turned to him, eyebrow cocked, "Except what, Nestor?"

"Except an engagement ring," he replied softly. "Had reservations at The Mermaid Restaurant for next weekend, his friend owns the place. Sounds as if he was planning to propose to her there..."

"No sentimentality, Nestor," said the Inspector in a voice just above a whisper as he fought to keep his wife from his thoughts. "The boy deserves justice, as does Ming; our job is to see that they get it."

"I know it sounds stupid, Inspector, but you know the lawyers are going to ask; are you sure this is all related?"

Adams took in his words, could hear the lawyers talking about tragic coincidences.

"Both of them were killed because Ming was Carlos Gooden's former girlfriend," replied Adams softly. "Yes, Nestor, we are sure that these crimes are all related..."

### Chapter 10

"But why?" asked Ziggy. "All the people have left, they took everything, the girl is gone, us sittin' here ain't gonna bring her back..."

"Until further notice," replied Andrew, staring at his docked boat and hearing in his mind's ear the sound of the bills growing. "The Inspector himself said, "No more tours until further notice," so for now, we're out of business."

"I'm goin' down to speak to Nestor," replied Ziggy. "He's got to help us. We can't stay in dock forever, bad enough all those people cancelled on us."

"My fear is that when we reopen, all we'll have is ghouls," replied Andrew.

Ziggy stared at him, "Ghouls? What you mean?"

"People are strange," stated Andrew. "Some people find out someone died and they come just to see where it happened. I want people on board looking at the fish and drinking, not lining up to see where someone was killed..."

"I never considered that," replied Ziggy. His eyes seemed to glow with an inner light, "We could have a midnight horror cruise, maybe a séance..."

"What in hell is wrong with you?" asked Andrew. "Don't need to have the walking dead hanging off my boat!"

"Excuse me..."

The two men turned to see the large white man and his attractive wife from yesterday approaching them on the dock.

"Oh, here he comes," stated Andrew flatly. "The man who don't know how to ask someone to turn down their headset..."

"I apologized for that," replied Vance. "You'll forgive me if I acted a little hastily, what with the dead woman under the boat and all..."

Andrew smiled at Melissa, "I'm sorry, miss, but we can't even offer you a beverage; they took everything off the boat."

"You've been closed down?" asked Melissa.

"Police closed us until further notice," replied Ziggy mournfully. "One murder and they cripple your business..."

"I wanted to talk to you about yesterday," said Vance.

"Talk away, we got nothing but time," replied Andrew, leaning against the rail of the dock and staring longingly at his ship.

"Do you have any surveillance cameras onboard?" asked Vance.

"Good God, ghouls already..." began Ziggy.

"Ghouls?" asked Melissa.

"We're not interested in the cameras because we enjoy watching people die," replied Vance. "I own a security company in New York. My wife and I have worked with the police before, maybe we can help get this thing cleared up and you can get back to showing people the beautiful sights underwater."

Andrew frowned, "Even if I believed you, which I'm not sayin' I do, they took all the pictures from the cameras and didn't find nothin'. Something happened to the cameras, someone installed a chip that kept them from recording anything from just before the time your friend and Ming left the bar area."

"What did they catch on the cameras?" asked Melissa.

"Not much," replied Ziggy. "Your friend left the bottom of the boat and headed up towards the bar area, then the picture just goes blank, that's all..."

"How about him returning?" asked Vance.

"Nothing," replied Andrew, "nothing after he got up and left the viewing area..."

"So there's no way to know how long they were on deck or if she did agreed to go with him," replied Vance. "That's not going to help Carlos..."

"Why'd he have to go strangle Ming for anyway?" asked Ziggy. "Everything was good; we were making outlandish tips, why couldn't he be cool?"

"She wasn't strangled," replied Vance, lost in thought. "She died of a broken neck..."

The other three looked at him in surprise.

"I thought she'd been strangled," stated Melissa. "Did the Inspector tell you that?"

"You could see it when they pulled her aboard the police cutter," stated Vance. "There was no bruising on her neck, but by the way her head was moving, her neck had been broken."

"Well that don't bode well for your friend," replied Andrew. "He's big enough to break a little girl's neck and it would have been even quicker than strangling..."

"Yes," replied Vance, "but you need some level of expertise to break someone's neck..."

"Have you broken anyone's neck?" asked Melissa suspiciously.

Vance frowned, "They were very bad people..."

"So you might have done it," stated Ziggy. "Who else on board knew how to break someone's neck?"

Andrew looked at Vance, "Yeah, how do we know you didn't do it?"

"Because I was with my wife the entire time in front of a boatload of witnesses looking at fish and coral," replied Vance flatly.

"You broke people's necks?" asked Melissa with a shudder.

"Very BAD people," replied Vance. "You know I would never hurt you or anyone else...well, certainly not you..."

"Oh, that makes me feel better," replied Ziggy, eyeing Vance warily.

"Do you know if anyone said they saw anything?" asked Vance of Andrew.

Andrew shook his head, "I heard nothing if they did. You'd have to ask the Inspector, but as far as I know, the only one not accounted for at the time of the murder was your friend."

"Could anyone have boarded the boat?" asked Melissa.

"Possibly," admitted Andrew, "but I'd have to think that someone at some point would have noticed a boat, either arriving or leaving. Also, my radar showed nothing in the area. We weren't near a beach, so we'd have seen a boat coming from a distance and if someone tried to swim out to the boat, well we were a good ways off in an area with some heavy currents. I'm sorry miss, but it don't look good for your friend, at least from the information we got."

Vance's frown deepened, "Do you think we could get on your boat?"

Now Andrew frowned, "I don't know, man..."

"Ah, what's the harm?" asked Ziggy dejectedly. "The cops have taken everything off the boat, he ain't gonna find nothing they didn't..."

"I'm just trying to get an idea of timing," replied Vance. "I'm not looking for a clue really, I'm sure the police have been very thorough."

Andrew shrugged, "Why not. I'd be happier onboard anyway, no sense standing here crying over spilt milk..."

"Or lost money," replied Ziggy.

Melissa took Vance's hand and together, they followed the two men down the dock and onto the ship.

***

Last night had been pleasant, Astin finally getting the girl to himself after they had shared a few drinks and a meal, the evening ending with the two of them walking along the beach, her arm around his waist. There had been a little kissing and a little groping and with another day to kill, Astin had invited her to his hut on the beach to do a little swimming and have lunch together.

She had arrived a little bit early, a good sign and when she had pulled her sundress off, he knew that he would seal the deal shortly. She was wearing a bikini so tiny that she was just about nude and she was giggling and flirting so obviously that he knew they were on the same page.

For her part, the girl was sure of what he wanted and inclined to give it to him. This trip had been a graduation present from her parents and she wanted some experience before going to college this fall. Sure, she'd done it with her high school boyfriend, but he had been so quick and immature. Her girlfriend Sarah had been telling her nonstop about her time with some guy who was twenty seven years old and how there was nothing better than doing it with someone who KNEW what they were doing. No, it was time, time she did it with a REAL man.

Each hut at the resort had a small, fenced in clearing behind it with lounges and a table. Astin directed her out to the clearing and then disappeared, putting on some music and returning with a glass of wine for both of them. Handing her a glass he laughed and they flirted and made small talk before he began kissing her. Taking her drink, he placed it down on the table and directed her towards one of the lounge chairs, lowering himself down onto it and pulling her to his lap, where they continued to kiss.

She felt his hands on her ass and then one slid up her back and his fingers nimbly began to remove her bikini top. As her top fell, his mouth descended to her nipple and she moaned as he began to lick and suck on her breast.

She felt herself getting more and more excited, he was so much better than her old boyfriend and he really knew what he was doing. She felt herself growing hotter and a tingling began between her legs in anticipation. Not breaking their connections, she rose and turned to face him, straddling him on the lounge as he continued to give attention, first to one breast then to the other.

"You're driving me crazy," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair, a pleading note in her voice.

"I'm just beginning," he replied with a smile, his hands descending to her bikini bottoms and deftly untied them, his finger tips trailing lazily down between her legs as he pulled them slowly away, leaving her nude in his arms.

She moaned louder as his hand slid up her inner thigh and began to caress her mound. He felt the bulge in his shorts growing, her moaning and slow gyrations exciting him. Freeing his erection with one hand, he gently began to guide her until he had positioned her just above him.

For his part, Astin could not believe how into it she was; he loved how she rubbed against him, moaning and cursing as she lowered herself onto him, driving him wild with her body and voice. She began to ride him, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts bouncing in front of his face as she threw her head back and continued to moan and beg him to do her.

Neither heard the door to the hut open, each lost in the moment, each striving to fulfill their needs. She was so close now, so close. How did he know what to do, to excite her like this? It was like he was reading her mind, like he was certain of what would turn her on. A soft breeze drifted over her naked flesh adding to the electricity she was feeling. If her girlfriend Sarah only knew what she was up to, how she was feeling at this very moment, she'd be so jealous. She felt so alive and so totally mature. She moaned more loudly as he caressed her back, increasing his rhythm. This is how a woman made love, she thought, this is how a man satisfies you!

She came hard, crying out and wrapping her arms around his head, pulling his face into her breasts as she felt him fill her. As the sensation subsided, she leaned back onto his thighs and then forced herself to stand, her legs feeling wobbly and unsteady. He smiled up at her sheepishly as she reached out and took his hand, leading him towards the hut and the bedroom within.

Entering the bedroom just past the kitchen, she slid seductively down onto the bed, giving him a fine view of her backside as she curled her luscious body across the bed. He began to lower himself down, climbing between her legs when his head suddenly snapped to the side and he toppled off of her. For a moment, she was confused, unsure of what had happened and then she saw the blood running from his head onto the sheets next to her.

"Astin?" she whispered, terror stricken.

She felt a hard bump at the base of her skull and then heard a soft pop before the world went black.

***

Ginger frowned as she stared at her mother and sister, seated across from her primly eating breakfast. Her mother was wearing another Sunday suit, this one a light grey skirt, white blouse and matching grey jacket set with a matching grey hat almost as large as the umbrella that loomed above their table. Her sister had a towel wrapped about her head and her body was wrapped in a beach towel beneath which she wore the most unrevealing, unflattering bathing suit imaginable. In sharp contrast, Ginger sat in a bright orange bikini top, a floral cover up over her shoulders and a sheer skirt about her hips revealing her bright orange bikini bottom.

They had all just ordered breakfast and each sat quietly lost in their own thoughts. Finally, her mother spoke up in a weary, tired way.

"So, do you think they'll release him?"

"Don't know," replied Ginger. "I can't see him till after ten and then I can go down and make inquiries..."

"Tete is coming in today," remarked Celia, primly reaching for a muffin from the basket on the table.

"I can only imagine the remarks..." replied her mother softly, shaking her head sorrowfully.

"She'll understand," replied Ginger, trying to hide her annoyance. "She stuck by Uncle Morris during his problems..."

"He had health problems," replied her mother.

"Brought on by a lot of rum," replied Ginger.

"Why do you always find it necessary to discuss family issues in public?" asked her mother.

"Ain't no issue," replied Ginger. "The man drank like a fish, wasn't the first one, won't be the last. Now he's dead, God rest him. I didn't do the drinkin', he did, ain't no issue for me..."

"I think what Mama means..." began Celia.

"I know what Mama means," replied Ginger. "Mama don't need no translator and frankly, I got bigger issues going on here in case you two didn't notice. I got a wedding all paid for with no groom, I got guests arriving with nothing to tell them but the truth and I got a wedding dress upstairs that I ain't gonna get to wear and that I'm gonna have to haul back to New York on a plane that ain't designed to haul a big ass gown like that!"

Mama's eyes narrowed, "How'd you get the gown down here? Didn't you bring it on the plane?"

"Hell no," replied Ginger. "I got six suitcases, got more luggage than I know what to do with, where was I fitting a princess wedding gown on top of that? No, I had the store mail it down here, damn thing is still in the box. No sense unwrapping it if I ain't gonna wear it..."

"It's a shame," replied her mother softly. "I'm sure you would have made a beautiful bride..."

Ginger looked at her and felt like crying, her features softening.

"Thank you, Mama..."

"Do you want us to come with you to visit Carlos today?" asked Celia softly.

Ginger shook her head, "No...no. If you two could stay here and greet the guests who are set to arrive...We're supposed to have a get together this afternoon, I'll make the announcement then that the groom is not going to be able to attend the wedding."

An uncomfortable silence descended between them, finally broken by Ginger.

"So how is your business going?" she asked Celia, desperate for anyway to change the topic.

"It's not just a business," replied Celia, "it's my calling."

"You take former thieves and get them jobs," stated Ginger. "You're an employment agency for crooks..."

"Don't take your frustrations out on your sister," grumbled Mama. "She's been doing good work rehabilitating people and giving them a second chance at an honest, useful life."

"You're right Mama," stated Ginger, sounding tired. "I'm sorry Celia, I shouldn't have snapped at you. How is your calling working out for you?"

"It fills me with joy, Ginger," stated Celia primly. "I've met all sorts of people, not just criminals. You would be surprised at the different types of lives people live, lives that you and I have never heard of, have never even thought existed."

"That's what you get for never leaving Jamaica," replied Ginger dismissively. "There's a whole world out there..."

"Your sister has been traveling," stated Mama proudly. "You ain't the only worldly one in the family..."

"Traveling?" asked Ginger.

"For work," explained Celia. "I travel for my organization. It has been an education; I've met all sorts of people with all sorts of ways of looking at things. I've placed over a hundred people, men and women, gotten them jobs in all types of different positions and I've learned a lot, Ginger. New York isn't the only place to learn about life you know."

"It's the only place to live it," laughed Ginger.

"Well other places are interesting too if you can avoid getting arrested in them," replied Mama pointedly.

"We were talking about Celia's calling," replied Ginger flatly.

"I've learned a lot from the people I've assisted and they are all gaining from their new professions," stated Celia proudly.

"And the people they're working for," said Ginger, "they missing anything?"

"Ginger!" snapped Mama.

Ginger shook her head, "Sorry, Mama, sorry, it's just that old habits die hard, you know?"

Her mother sensed the distraction, the pain in her daughter's voice.

"We're here for you," stated her mother softly, patting her arm. "Everything will work out in the good Lord's time."

Ginger nodded, looking down at her hands, "I got a feelin', Mama, that the good Lord forgot to set his alarm clock, cause it's well past time now..."

### Chapter 11

Winslow stood in the doorway of the small hut that had become the morgue for the island and winced as Nestor approached him.

"I'm sorry, man, but I got to ask you to do it," stated Nestor sympathetically. "The girl had no other family...'cept Robert of course... We need the identification to be positive even though we know..."

"I understand," stated Winslow softly. "Let's make it quick, though..."

Nestor led him through the door and to the table. After a short hesitation, Nestor quickly pulled back the blanket. Winslow stared down at her a moment, trying hard to maintain his composure. Her eyes were closed and if it hadn't been for the slightly odd coloring of her skin, he'd have thought she was sleeping. Tears welled up in his eyes as he nodded, Nestor mercifully pulling back the sheet to cover her from prying eyes.

"She was like me own daughter," stated Winslow softly. "Such a beautiful girl..."

"I'm sorry," replied Nestor, tentatively touching Winslow's arm and leading him out into the open air.

"I'll bury her," said Winslow softly. "She ain't gonna end up in no unmarked grave, my poor baby girl... I got some money, I'll get more, bury her and the boy..."

"His family wants his body," stated Nestor softly, "but I'll give you their number, put you in touch with them."

Winslow nodded, "And her things? I got to find something to put her in, something decent..."

"If you want you can come with me to their place, I'm sure the Inspector won't mind...I'll clear it with him."

"You got her necklace?" asked Winslow, the thought suddenly coming to mind.

Nestor gestured towards the police station, "We got her jewelry in lock up for safe keeping, took it from their home..."

"No," replied Winslow, "I mean the necklace she was wearing. She always wore it."

"She only had a gold bracelet on when we got to her," replied Nestor.

"She had to have it on," replied Winslow, his voice breaking. "That girl never took off that necklace..."

"She wasn't wearing one...maybe it fell off...during the struggle," said Nestor hesitantly. "Can't say for sure..."

"She's got to have it," replied Winslow, regaining his composure, "she always wore it..."

"I'll check to see if we got it," replied Nestor, directing Winslow back towards the police station. "Don't worry, we'll find it..."

***

Shaquenna Taylor sauntered towards the last hut on this morning's cleaning roster. Shaquenna was short and stocky and walked at a rapid clip. Her kinky hair was pulled back in an aggressively tight bun and her large eyes glowed with an inner fire. Shaquenna had the energy and vigor of women half her age. Stomping up to the hut's front door, she knocked vigorously.

"HOUSECLEANING!" she announced in a loud, ringing voice.

Checking her watch she saw that it was after 11 am and reaching for her pass card, she swiped the electronic door lock and unlocked the door. She had seen the man who had booked this hut and was certain he would not be here. She knew the type, he would be out at breakfast or down at the beach trying to pick up some woman or squirreled away with some one night stand at their place. There wasn't much to learn doing this job, these huts were always rented by either couples seeking some romance or single men seeking a romantic place in which to lure vacationing women to bed. Either way, if the "Do Not Disturb" sign wasn't out, they were either off at a romantic dinner or they were off hunting for a reason to put the sign back on the door knob. In five years here, Shaquenna had never walked in on anyone.

To be sure, however, she called out again, "HOUSECLEANING!" peering about in search of an answer. Nothing; not a sound... Satisfied, she reached back for her bottle of toilet bowl cleaner and headed towards the master bathroom. Her routine was simple and effective; throw toilet bowl cleaner in first, then throw bleach in the shower and sink, vacuum while that worked its way in, dust, straighten up, clean the bathroom last and get on to the next hut.

Rounding the corner, she peered into the bedroom and ground to a halt. There was someone on the bed!

"I'm sorry..." she began, starting to back out of the room slowly. Something made her stop and stare.

The position of the body was unnatural, no one slept like that and then, her eyes began to focus on the other sites in the darkened room. Slowly, she reached for the wall switch and flipped on the light.

The man was naked on the bed; beneath his head was a halo of blood. His eyes stared out towards the sheet, looking at it as if it had pulled the trigger. With a gasp, she saw the girl at the foot of the bed. She was naked and on her side, her face hidden by her hair which was dark and matted with blood. It took a moment for Shaquenna's mind to begin working again. Exhaling to regain control of her emotions, she marched out of the hut and carefully closed the door, her strong footsteps only breaking into a full out run after she had spotted the maintenance door to the main building. Gaining the door, she swiped her card and jumped inside, startling her manager, who was on his way out to grab a cup of coffee.

"Call Nestor," she whispered, "we got ourselves a mess of dead people!"

***

Melissa peered at her husband for clarification.

"You want to throw me overboard?"

"Of course not, don't say it like that," replied Vance. "I'm just trying to come up with the timing for the events."

"Please don't kill her by accident," stated Ziggy. "Two murders in one week will put a real damper on our business and we're hurtin' already..."

Standing in the bar area of the boat, they watched Andrew unlock the doors that led to the back of the boat.

Vance glanced around the bar.

"Look, Carlos said he walked in, spoke to her for a moment and then they walked out onto the deck," began Vance. "Go and stand behind the bar and I'll come up and then we'll walk out together."

Melissa shrugged and went behind the bar. Vance backed up to the newly opened doors and entered the bar area, making his way to the bar as he glanced at his watch.

"Supposedly they talked about a minute or so and then left," stated Andrew.

"Okay, so I'll add two minutes just to be on the safe side, now Ming went with him voluntarily, so Mel, you come with me."

Melissa stepped out from behind the bar and followed her husband, trailed by Ziggy and Andrew as they went out onto the deck. Vance stopped, looking up at the deck above them and then side stepping to look down both sides of the ship.

"Come," said Andrew, "I'll show you where they think she went over the side..."

He led the group to a spot along the rail on the port side of the boat a few feet from where the side aisle opened up to the aft of the ship.

Pointing to some slight marks on the rail, Andrew gestured, "They think he scraped her shoe or his belt or something on the rail when he sent her over..."

Vance looked down, "It's about ten to fifteen feet to the waterline at this point...and about ten feet from the back of the boat where they would have exited the bar. They could have remained hidden from view by you up in the pilot house by remaining under the overhang but whoever it was took a hell of a chance walking this far down the side of the ship...why not just kill her and throw her overboard at the corner?"

"Perhaps she had a conversation with Carlos, he left and whoever did kill her forced her down this far, killed her and then threw her overboard," suggested Melissa.

"So you think someone else did it?" asked Ziggy.

"I'm not sure," replied Vance.

"The police say the man's name is Carlos Gooden and frankly, that's good enough for me," replied Andrew. "The Gooden brothers are legends in Jamaica, kill you for looking at them. I don't know what they had against poor Ming, but if she was mixed up with them, I ain't surprised she ended up the way she did. Everyone who knows them ends up dead sooner rather than later..."

"That doesn't sound like the Carlos we know," replied Melissa.

"Of course it don't," laughed Ziggy. "You think killers come up and say they're killers? They don't advertise their business, ya know. The Goodens wear fancy suits and drive fine cars, they don't go out wearing guns or show up with a knife in their hand, but people end up dead anyway. They don't want you knowing what they're doing or who they are..."

"If that's true, wouldn't it have made sense for him to change his name once he moved to New York? It's a more effective way to hide who he is don't you think?" asked Vance.

"Once he escaped to New York, he didn't have to change his name," laughed Andrew. "I been to New York, you got a new murder every day. You think those bald-heads up there got the time to go looking for all the wild Jamaicans who show up? No, once he was out of the country, he could hide in plain sight, no need for a new name. Look at you; you didn't know who he was..."

Vance considered it, "So you still think Carlos did this..."

"Look, ain't no one murdered on our boat before a Gooden came onboard," stated Ziggy firmly. "They're known killers, ain't a stretch of the imagination to say the killer done the killing."

"What about the timing?" asked Melissa.

Vance shrugged, "That door leads below decks, back to where we were sitting. If Carlos killed Ming, he could slip through that door and be back with us and the whole thing would have taken five minutes, ten at most. If someone else did it, they would only have to wait until he slipped back through that door, come up behind Ming and then toss her body overboard." Vance motioned Melissa closer, "Let me come up behind you..."

Melissa turned around and Vance gave her backside a discreet perusal, he was a lucky man indeed. Refocusing, he took a step towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Now, I want you to go limp, completely limp, okay?"

"If I end up in the water, I swear to you..." she began.

"Just go limp, please..."

Melissa collapsed completely, but before she could fall to the deck, she found herself scooped up in Vance's arms. Her head draped over her arm, she opened her eyes and found herself suspended out over the water. Quickly, she was pulled back over the rail and then pulled into Vance's chest. Sitting up in his arms, she saw his face smiling down at her.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured.

"Concentrate on the case," she replied with a giggle, touching his face and giving him a quick kiss.

"Don't think after you broke someone's neck they'd kiss you," stated Andrew.

"Still," replied Vance, reluctantly placing his wife on the deck, "Ming was about Melissa's size and even as dead weight, it would not have been that difficult to get her up and over this rail..."

"Your friend is about your height and it would be easier if you were taller," stated Ziggy. "A brother my size would have had to struggle more..."

Vance shrugged, "I've got more questions than answers. From what we've learned here, you could make a case either way..."

"Not really," replied Andrew. "Like I said, if you know the Gooden brothers, you end up dead sooner rather than later. Ming knew them, at least that's the rumor and if the rumor is true, it was only a matter of time, poor thing. No one else on the boat had a reason to come after her, no one else even knew her."

"Maybe that's what we need to look into next," stated Melissa. "Why might anyone else want her dead?"

Vance shrugged, "You're right; we pretty much know how it was done, now we need to know the why..."

***

Carlos offered the three women a slightly sad smile as he took the seat in his cell and placed it closer to the bars of his cell.

"This was not the way I intended to meet you ladies..."

"It's the first time I've ever met anyone in this fashion," stated Mama, glancing about her surroundings with the expression of someone smelling something bad.

"Are they treating you all right?" asked Celia, searching for something to say and a way not to touch anything.

"I get fed and everyone is polite," smiled Carlos, "it's not so bad..."

"I changed the hotel accommodations," stated Ginger firmly. "I'm looking into a lawyer..."

"Don't trouble yourself, love," smiled Carlos. "Dougie already sent me one; I spoke to her about an hour ago..."

"Her?" asked Celia. "You have a woman lawyer?"

"Women do all sorts of things now," snapped Ginger, turning to her mother. "Yeah, she worldly all right..." Rolling her eyes, she looked back to Carlos, "Okay, what did she say?"

"She's hoping to have me out in a day or two," replied Carlos. "Said she might even have had me out sooner, but she has to keep hopping between here and Jamaica, it slows things down..."

"Can she get you out by tomorrow?" asked Ginger. "We're supposed to get married tomorrow, if you didn't forget..."

"I didn't forget," replied Carlos mournfully, "I just haven't been unable to do much about it..."

"Don't give me that sad faced nonsense," replied Ginger. "I'm out here trying to hold this whole thing together! Guests are arriving, people are calling...if you can get me a time, I'll speak to that manager, see if we can't push the ceremony back but I need a time. I'll speak to the minister..."

"Ginger!" interrupted her mother with a frown. "Don't you think that you should forget the wedding for the time being?"

"I got non-refundable deposits on EVERYTHING!" snapped Ginger. "You think the hotel gives a damn?"

"If I get out in time, there'll be a wedding," stated Carlos patiently. "If not, we'll just have to postpone it and I'll make it up to you..."

"How the hell are you going to make it up to me?" asked Ginger. "I plan the perfect wedding and you go and get arrested..."

"It's not his fault," demurred Celia.

"You think I don't know it ain't his fault?" replied Ginger. "I don't need you telling me he didn't do it, I KNOW he didn't do it, doesn't make the situation any better!"

Nestor entered the holding area and spoke quietly, "I need you ladies to leave..."

"Leave?" snapped Ginger. "We just got here..."

"You've got to leave because I've got to leave," he stated calmly.

Ginger rose angrily, "We ain't been here but five minutes..."

"I'm sorry, it's an emergency," replied Nestor as politely as he could manage. "You can come back and visit Mister Gooden this afternoon when I return..."

The three women got up, each voicing a complaint as they collected their things and headed towards the door.

Carlos shook his head and then rose from his chair and took his place on the cot connected to the cell wall. After a moment, he stretched out on the bed, thrusting his hands beneath his head. He thought of Ginger and sighed; the thought of life in prison was daunting, but was it really that much worse than a life with Ginger when she was angry?

### Chapter 12

It was early evening when Nestor entered his office and found Inspector Adams seated at his desk. Rising, his face impassive as ever, the Inspector slid to the visitor's side, motioning Nestor to take his own seat behind the desk.

"This island has become a killing field," stated Nestor, sitting down hard in the chair, finding it warm. "Have you been waiting for me long, sir?"

"Not too long," replied the Inspector softly. "We've gone from no murders on this island ever to four in a little over twenty four hours. It does seem a bit unfair..."

"I don't know the history of the island but I do know a few things I didn't know this morning," stated Nestor sourly. "The fellow's name was Astin LaRoche, but you've seen the file so you probably know that all ready. The girl's name is Justina Brown, an American girl here on vacation. There is some information on him, nothing on her yet..."

"Unfortunate," replied the Inspector. "The entire thing, very unfortunate..."

"You know they're going to say that the murders were connected," stated Nestor. "They're going to use these two latest killings to say that Carlos Gooden couldn't have possibly killed Ming, that whoever killed her did these killings as well and that proves he's innocent. They'll say it is some drug war aimed at his brother and I'm half inclined to believe them."

"It makes sense," agreed Adams softly, "until, of course, you look at the facts. While Ming might have had some shady dealings in the past because of Carlos, there is no indication that she was doing anything illegal now. As for her boyfriend or fiancé, well, his record is clean. Now these two murders are interesting because they prove to me the exact opposite of what the attorneys will say. No one going to war with Douglas Gooden would kill that boy Astin because he wasn't important enough in Douglas Gooden's organization to send him a message by killing him. If a rival were going to kill anyone in his organization, they would have chosen someone much higher up in the ranks, someone with some sort of position, which we know was not the case with this fellow Astin. His only use was to Gooden and his only use to Gooden was as an alibi for his brother. Since he could produce no alibi for his brother, he became the patsy for him. I'm sure the girl with him was killed because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I highly doubt she was involved in anyway."

"As far as Carlos is concerned, we're not charging him with any murder except Ming's. He killed Ming, of that I have no doubt. The other three murders were probably done by one or more of Douglas Gooden's hired guns who could be anyone on the island. It could even be that bodyguard of his, Noel, I am certain that his fingers are dirty despite his expensive suits. Either way, no one is leaving this island until we find out."

"That's fine, inspector," laughed Nestor, "how the hell am I going to close off an entire island by myself? I can't patrol the whole island AND conduct a murder investigation, never mind four murder investigations!"

"Reinforcements have already arrived and more are on their way," replied Adams calmly. "Jamaican police are already patrolling the airport as well as the docks and soon we will be joined by members of Interpol. Douglas Gooden and his brother will not escape justice this time."

"What about justice for the others?" asked Nestor softly. "I know that Ming deserves justice and if you're right, Carlos Gooden killed her, but what about the other three? Her boyfriend and this Astin fellow and that girl... If you're right and I think you are, then we got at least one more killer on this island that we got to find."

"At least one more," replied Adams with a nod. Pressing his fingertips together, he lowered his head in thought, "If we take the position that Robert was killed by the same person who killed Astin and that American girl, than we have one additional killer. If not, then other than Carlos, there must be two. One who killed Robert and one who killed Astin and the girl..." The inspector rose and spoke as he moved about the office, "We must not lose focus, Nestor. Astin was on that boat with Carlos, I interviewed him. I was reading the file on him that we received when we requested information regarding all of the people on the boat. He was an electronics man, someone who could hack into security systems and computer programs and he worked for Douglas Gooden."

"I believe Gooden put him on the ship to disable the cameras in order to protect his brother. Now their attorneys will say that he was the one who committed Ming's murder because dead men can't argue their innocence, but there is no motive for such an action. His death was orchestrated not only to keep him quiet as to his role in disabling the cameras, but to provide reasonable doubt regarding who killed Ming."

"I see the sense of it," agreed Nestor. "But I do have one problem, Inspector."

Adams looked up at him, his eyes asking the question.

"Why now?" asked Nestor, shaking his head. "It's been eight years since Ming and Carlos seen each other. She never came to the police with anything, so why kill her now? Everyone said she wanted nothing to do with him, was happy with her life now, so why come and kill her now? If she hadn't talked in all this time, he had to know she wasn't going to talk..."

Adams nodded, "Something triggered it, no doubt about it. Our intelligence shows that Douglas has been expanding and that has brought him into difficulties with several of his rivals. He might be feeling vulnerable, trying to avoid a war and yet grow larger and maybe something from the past made him see Ming as a vulnerability, one they couldn't afford..."

"Maybe, Inspector, but we're going to need more than that to convince a jury," stated Nestor.

"Don't worry about convincing a jury at this stage, Nestor," replied Adams. "Find the truth and the jury will believe you."

Nestor leaned back in his chair, "All I know is that the truth in this case is gonna be something ugly..."

***

Douglas Gooden never let his emotions show, in fact the only way Noel could tell that his boss was upset was a certain change in his voice; a gravitas that was added to his already solemn words, an extra coating of ice on an all ready chilly demeanor. Noel stood before his boss, genuinely perplexed by his tone. He heard the tone, heard the anger, but could think of no reason for what had triggered it. Noel had become very good at learning what upset his boss, it was the only sure way of staying alive in his line of work and something had upset Douglas Gooden. What it was, however, Noel could not fathom. He glanced over his shoulder at the two body guards standing in the shadows of the room's foyer and cleared his throat before he spoke.

"You wanted to see me, Mister Gooden?" he said, drawing himself to a halt at the usual respectful distance from his employer. He was here, replying to a phone call that had been issued by Douglas that left him reason to believe that if he did not appear immediately he would die.

"Noel," said Mister Gooden, looking down at his hands. "When do you do what I tell you to do?"

Noel's frown deepened; his life depended upon the way he answered this question and he knew it.

"I do what you tell me to do WHEN you tell me to do it," he replied. He felt the sweat beginning to pour from him, running down his body beneath the expensive suit and pooling at the small of his back.

"When..." agreed Mister Gooden, looking up with dead eyes and extending extended the index finger of his right hand and pointed it at Noel. "When I tell you to do it, isn't that correct, Noel?"

"Of course," replied Noel, swallowing in a dry throat. "Always, Mister Gooden, sir..."

"And when I DON'T tell you to do it, Noel," replied Mister Gooden, his eyes unblinking, "you don't do it, do you?"

Noel felt the panic rising in his chest, "Of course not, Mister Gooden, of course not..."

Mister Gooden stared at him a long moment and then cocked his head to the side, "Then why, Noel, why is Astin dead?"

Noel stared at him, his scowl softening in his confusion.

"Astin's dead?"

"Dead, Noel," replied Mister Gooden, his eyes narrowing.

"Astin is dead?" asked Noel, confusion now plainly evident on his face.

"It's all over the damn news," replied Mister Gooden evenly.

Noel took a chance and glanced down at the newspaper sitting near Mister Gooden's elbow, a picture of Astin and some girl splashed across the front page.

"I'm sorry, Mister Gooden, but I didn't hear the news," he confessed. "I was in my room when you called; I've been there all of the time since we last spoke. I was waiting to hear from you again, I was just sitting on my bed reading a book, I never turned on the television..."

"So you had no idea that Astin was dead?" asked Gooden, cocking his head and staring at the man harshly.

"I swear it, sir," replied Noel, his mind running at top speed. No wonder he was angry, he thinks I killed Astin and he did not give the order...

"So who killed Astin?" asked Douglas.

"I have no idea, sir," replied Noel, shifting feet nervously. "I saw him yesterday; he was trying to get with some girl on the beach. I told him to sit tight and then leave in two days just as you had ordered. I told him that he would be contacted when you wished to speak to him..."

"And you didn't follow him home and kill him and the girl?" asked Douglas softly, his hand gesturing towards the pictures in the paper.

"No, sir, why would I?" asked Noel. "You didn't give me the order, sir, I didn't do it! I swear, Mister Gooden, I left him on the beach!"

Douglas processed the information, "Then who did?"

Noel looked about the room as if the killer would step out and identify himself.

"I couldn't say, sir," he stated finally. "I don't know who would kill Astin; he didn't mean nothing to no one I know of..."

"So you're telling me that you did not take it upon yourself..."

"I swear, Mister Gooden," pleaded Noel, his heart racing. "I left him on the beach; it was the last I saw of him till I looked at that picture you showed me in this paper. He was trying to get with some girl..."

Douglas picked up the paper and pointed, "THIS girl?"

Noel squinted at the photo, "I think it was her, sir, I can't rightly say. There were two of them..."

"Two girls?" interrupted Douglas.

"Yes sir," replied Noel, his eyes wild with fear, the words coming more quickly now, "two girls, they were dancing on the beach. Astin, he liked one of them and he went down and ordered drinks for them and I left, I didn't stay. Told him, I told him, you wait to hear from Mister Gooden, he'll contact you when he wants you...I told him, leave in two days, just like we planned, get out in two days, I told him..."

"Who was the other girl?" asked Douglas, rising.

"I got no idea," stated Noel, recoiling half a step. "I assumed she was the other girl's friend, I don't know, I swear, Mister Gooden..."

Douglas stared at him angrily, "If you didn't kill Astin then someone else did. We need to know who and we need to know why!"

"Yes, Mister Gooden," replied Noel. "Do you want me to track down the girl?"

"I want you to calm down," replied Douglas, retaking his chair and losing himself in thought for a few moments.

Noel stood, watching him, his eyes filled with fear. Mister Gooden had to believe him, had to know he wouldn't have acted without permission...

Eventually, Douglas looked up.

"Go and find the girl," he stated softly. "Make inquiries, use our contacts. I want to know if she knows anything, heard anything, saw anything, you understand?"

"Yes, Mister Gooden," replied Noel, forcing his voice beyond a whisper.

"I want to know if she knows anything that might help us in our search and I want to know what she knows before tomorrow morning."

"I'll find out, Mister Gooden," replied Noel. "I'll find out..."

"Go," stated Douglas, rising and turning towards the glass doors that led out to the balcony. "And Noel..."

Noel took a shallow breath and whispered, "Yes, Mister Gooden..."

"Don't let me find out, Noel that you had anything to do with this," he stated softly. "Or you will join Astin in a very slow and very painful way..."

"Yes, Mister Gooden," replied Noel, backing out towards the door. "Yes, sir..."

Douglas watched Noel retreat quickly out the door of the suite, the click of the door making him smile. With a little gesture from him, the two guards stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind them. A moment later, the door to his bedroom opened and a beautiful caramel skinned woman entered the room dressed in nothing save a pair of panties and black high heels. Douglas looked up impassively as she sauntered to his side.

"I don't understand..." she began softly.

"I have my reasons," he stated softly. "At this moment, I need Noel distracted. Sometimes a good manager must distract even his best employees. You just do your job, understood?"

The woman smiled, "Yes Mister Gooden" She looked out towards the doorway that Noel had retreated through moments before; poor Noel, poor Noel...

***

It was later in the day that Judge Anders sat on the veranda of his house looking out over Montego Bay in Jamaica. A small dark skinned servant in a white uniform exited from his palatial house, sauntering across the beautiful stones that made up the judge's veranda followed by a beautiful, caramel skinned woman in a tan skirt suit walking behind him holding a briefcase. Anders looked up and nodded at the servant who immediately halted and withdrew, leaving the judge alone with the attractive younger woman.

The woman looked over the judge with a pleasant smile, taking in the picture he offered. The judge was in his sixties, though he looked older, his mottled skin and puffy face testifying to a life spent in the pursuit of debauchery. The judge's watery, swollen eyes took in the young woman's form with no attempt to conceal his leer. She patiently waited for his eyes to examine her body before finally working their way up to her face and then gesturing her towards a chair. She lowered herself into the chair as he stared lustily at her legs, a devious smile growing on his lips.

"Dougie sent you..." he croaked leaning towards her, his voice crackling and strained.

"Yes, but not to entertain you, Judge Anders," she purred as she opened her briefcase and produced a sheaf of papers. "I'm here to get your signature on a few forms for Mister Gooden, I am his attorney..."

"My signature?" asked the Judge, eyeing the papers with annoyance. "I've done more than my fair share of favors for Mister Gooden..."

"And he has returned the favors, I believe, most generously," she responded smoothly. "He also asked me to relay some information to you of a...personal nature."

"Personal?" crabbed the Judge, eyeing the young woman's body, angry that eyeing it was all that he would be allowed to do to it.

"Yes," she responded, producing a pen and handing him the papers. "Apparently, there is a woman...Lena...Leahana..."

"Leah?" asked the judge excitedly.

"Leah, yessss, that was it," she smiled, handing him the pen and directing him to the lines he needed to sign. "Yes, Mister Gooden said to tell you..." She stopped, placing a delicate finger to her chin and looking skyward in thought.

"Yes, YES?" asked the Judge, scrawling his signature on the paper as she discretely continued to point towards various lines.

"Oh, yes, now I remember," she began, dazzling him with a smile. "Yes, he said to tell you that Leah was most anxious to renew your acquaintance and would be calling upon you tonight."

"Leah..." whispered the judge, his eyes glowing at the memory of her. "Yes, Leah..."

Looking over the papers, the woman smiled as she rose to leave, "I believe that concludes our business, Judge Anders. I won't take up any more of your time. If I understood Mister Gooden correctly, you would probably like a little time to prepare for your...date to night."

The judge smiled a twisted, dark smile favored, she thought, by mad scientists and ax murderers.

"Date," he chuckled, "I like that, yes..."

"A pleasure to meet you Judge Anders," smiled the woman, quickly turning to avoid seeing his outstretched hand and sashaying back towards the doors that led back into the massive house.

The judge watched her walk away, his lust rising. Reaching over to the table next to his chair, he rang for his man servant. If Leah was coming tonight, he'd have to get ready and rested; he would need all of his strength to deal with Leah.

### Chapter 13

The rehearsal dinner was set in a beautiful private room at the very chic restaurant, "De Belle Choses" set in the main strip about half a mile from the MBM. Ginger had entered the room, head held high, in a silver gown covered in crystals, silver heels and hair extensions that cascaded to her waist. Behind her trailed Celia in a conservative blue pants suit and black flats and her mother in a dark green skirt suit and a hat with a short veil that loomed before her eyes. Going to the head of the table, Ginger smiled at the fifty or so friends who had assembled and cleared her throat to speak.

Standing nearby, Melissa glanced at Vance. She knew that Ginger was holding up well, but this was a tough moment. Right here and now, she knew that Ginger's bravado would be put to the ultimate test. Melissa's heart went out to her friend, she knew that there was no hiding, no excuses to give; Carlos was not here and would not likely make it for the wedding tomorrow. Most everyone knew, but not everyone present had all the details and the need now to make a statement to her loved ones had to bring the situation home to Ginger in a way that she might have been able to avoid before. Watching her, Melissa hoped that her friend could get through the ordeal ahead.

Picking up a champagne glass, Ginger tapped it politely and glanced about the room as the conversations about her died down. Blinking rapidly, she looked about at her friends and family and finally, sucking on her teeth, began.

"As you may or may not know, Carlos is not here," she began firmly. "He's here on the island, but he's in jail. If you been hiding under a rock, then you don't know that they're holding him for murder. If you don't know, they say he killed his former girlfriend while we were out looking at fish. I was hoping he'd be out of jail by tomorrow so that we could get married but it don't look like that's going to happen, so there ain't gonna be no wedding..." Ginger waited as the murmurs died down before she continued. "I'm sorry to all of you that came down here for a wedding and who ain't gonna see one, but there ain't nothing I can do about it, so get over it. Now tomorrow we're gonna be having a party in place of a wedding reception because I paid for all this crap and I can't get no refunds. I'm not greedy, so if you brought gifts, bring them tomorrow and I'll take them and then when Carlos gets his ass out of jail and we DO get married, you don't have to buy us anything. Of course, I ain't having a second party because I ain't made of money, so enjoy yourselves tomorrow cause that's all you're getting. Oh, yeah, also, we cancelled the minister and even that jackass kept his deposit, so don't go showing up at the beach because there ain't gonna be no ceremony or chairs or nothing because I cancelled all that, the only thing there will be is the party at the hotel tomorrow, so come to that, but there ain't gonna be no ceremony. I got no intention of standing up in front of a bunch of people and the good Lord and marrying myself."

"Also, some of you have asked if it is okay to go and see Carlos. If you want to go and see Carlos, he's over at the local jail, they haven't moved him or anything and frankly, it'd be nice if you went because I'm running out of things to talk to him about; how much can you ask someone sitting in a jail cell doing nothing, "So how was your day?". All he says is, "Same old, same old," which gets pretty old awful quick, so if you think you can come up with anything to talk to him about, go talk to him, Lord knows I tried. All he does is eat, crap and lay down, which is a good life if you're four months old but don't leave you with much to talk about when you're an adult."

"And finally, don't come up here when I'm done speaking and tell me how sorry you are; I don't give a damn how sorry you are, I got bigger problems than you feeling bad. Go feel bad with yourself and leave me out of it and don't give me any advice about what you would do if you were in my shoes. My mother and my sister are here and my Tete just got here and with all due respect, I'm not searching for advice, I'm drowning in it. Got more damn advice than the president right now and I don't need any more. If you feel the need to show me how sorry you are, put some extra cash in your envelopes, I'll take it that you feel bad. Otherwise, eat, drink, be merry and shut the hell up!"

Ginger downed her drink and sauntered towards Melissa, "Did I leave anything out you think?"

Melissa shrugged, a stunned expression on her face.

"I think you covered all of the bases..."

"Good," replied Ginger with a frown. "Don't need people wondering..."

"Wondering?" asked Vance. "It was like a drive by; it really didn't leave any room for wondering..."

"I got a problem with you," stated Ginger. "Here you are, supposedly a top notch investigator and you haven't found out anything to get Carlos out of jail."

"I'm not a top notch investigator," replied Vance. "I work in security..."

"High end security," replied Ginger with a shake of her head. Pointing a finger at Melissa she continued, "You found out her mother was a psycho, you can't help me?"

"He didn't find out my mother was a psycho," stated Melissa. "We knew that, we just didn't know how much. Besides, Vance is trying to help, we both are..."

"Well, investigate faster," replied Ginger. "I got non-refundable tickets home and I don't need to spend more money waiting for his ass to get out of jail. Find out who the killer is, it ain't like it's that hard. I'M doing the hardest part..."

"And that is?" asked Melissa.

"You want to spend the day with my family?" asked Ginger. "I'll trade you, you take the psychos I know and I'll look for the psychos you can't find."

"Have you spoken to the police today?" asked Vance.

Ginger grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waitress and scowled, "Course I spoke to them; they kicked us out when we were visiting Carlos. Found out that they found two other dead people in a hut, that's why they kicked us out, had to go and hide them before the next wave of tourists showed up."

"I heard about that," replied Vance. "Did you overhear anything?"

Ginger shook her head, "I was too busy trying to get Miss Priss and Mama into a taxi to get to the airport to pick up my Tete."

"Is she here?" asked Melissa. "We haven't met her yet."

"She's over there," replied Ginger. "She's the only one who knows how to dress; she's over by the bar."

"Will you be all right?" asked Melissa.

"Go ahead," replied Ginger dismissively. "I need to find that waitress again, one glass of this champagne ain't gonna cut it..."

Melissa and Vance wandered through the crowd towards the bar at the other side of the room. Several men stood at either side of the bar, politely ordering drinks. In the center of the bar stood a tall, handsome, very dark woman who apparently had never left the mid 1970s. Her svelte form sported an afro that extended several inches beyond her shoulders and her red velvet halter top pants suit clung to her figure as if painted on. One could not help but notice that her gleaming inch long finger nails matched her wedgie heeled shoes perfectly.

Glaring at the female bartender, her eyes narrowed accusingly, "Bitch, you'd BETTER put another cherry in that damn drink!"

The bartender, who appeared shell shocked, moved mechanically to comply.

"Hi," began Melissa, "I'm..."

"I know who you are," snapped the woman, eyeing the corrected drink suspiciously and then, gathered it leisurely into her hand. "You work for my niece Ginger."

"Actually," replied Melissa, "she works for me, I'm Melissa Tibbet..."

The woman smiled as if indulging a child, "Of course, dear, she said you'd say that..."

"My name is Vance Tibbet," stated Vance, extending his hand.

"BOXCAR!" snapped the woman, leaning forward and playfully kissing Vance on the cheek. Stepping back, she looked him over, "My niece does not lie; you ain't got no neck! Good God, what you made of, titanium?"

"We're both so happy to meet you," stated Melissa, not entirely sure she was telling the truth. "I'm sorry, but I don't know your name, Ginger always calls you her Tete..."

"You can call me Tete," the woman stated, slamming back her drink and putting the glass back on the bar threateningly. The bartender immediately moved to refill the glass as she continued, "My name is Esther, but I hate it, no imagination. I named Ginger, you know. I got to name Ginger and my sister insisted on naming Celia, damn shame about that..."

"Why did you name her Ginger?" asked Vance.

"Gilligan's Island," replied Tete. "We had one television station in those days and it only played for four hours a day. It was either gonna be Ginger, Maryann or Lucy cause those were the only two shows on, Gilligan's Island or I Love Lucy. Ginger was classy and polished and sophisticated, Maryann was a country girl and that name, Maryann is something you name a little white girl, no offense and the only Lucy I ever knew was a whore who worked not too far from our house, so I said call her Ginger cause I didn't want anyone thinking I named my niece for a whore...."

"Good choice," stated Melissa, feeling slightly out of her depth.

"Now, what have you two found out?" she asked, taking her freshly refilled drink and leading them towards a nearby table. "I hear you're helping Ginger investigate..."

"We haven't found out much," confessed Vance. "We went to the boat today to try to nail down a timeline, but truthfully, we left with more questions than we answered."

"We came back to get some lunch and that's when the news broke about the other murders," stated Melissa.

"I don't know enough about the people involved," confessed Vance. "I'm going to call my friend Len tomorrow; he's my information man at work. I'm hoping he might be able to come up with something useful."

"I didn't know that Carlos was related to Douglas Gooden," stated Tete. "I'd have told Ginger to stay clear; Douglas Gooden is bad news, child. We've all heard about the Gooden brothers and their lifestyle, but Douglas is the more famous of the two..."

"But you had heard about Carlos before..." said Melissa.

"Heard of him," agreed Tete, "but not like Douglas. Some said he's a killer, I've heard a lot more since this all happened, but it's all rumor. Douglas ain't no rumor, he's the real deal, so be careful cause he ain't afraid of men without necks, he's got a whole bunch who work for him, if you catch my drift."

"Do you know anything about this girl, Ming?" asked Vance.

"No idea, never heard of her," replied Tete, sipping her drink. "Probably just one of Douglas Gooden's whores; man runs all the prostitution on the islands, both ends of it."

"Both ends?" asked Melissa.

"High and low class," replied Tete. "The dirtiest, nastiest street walker is kicking money upstairs to him, just like the high class ones, the only difference being that the higher the fee, the more he takes. Police know all about it, won't do nothing about it, man's as powerful as they come."

"What do you think is the truth?" asked Melissa.

Tete looked at her, surprised by the question, "Truth about what?"

"Carlos," replied Melissa.

Tete took another long drag on her drink and swiveled her head towards Melissa.

"I ain't heard nothing good about the Gooden's, child. Ginger has her heart set on this man, so I ain't saying nothing, I'm sensitive about other people's feelings, you understand? Like I would never say that you dress like a schoolmarm even thought its true cause it might hurt your feelings. See, Ginger, she might be right, she might be wrong, but I tell you this, if you lie down with dogs, you get fleas, get what I'm saying?"

Melissa nodded and glanced up at Vance whose scowl deepened. First the boatmen and now the aunt; the Goodens did not have a nice reputation. Could Carlos have done it? It just didn't seem possible, not the man he'd come to know.

***

Noel stood blocking the entrance of a small, ramshackle, one room building not far from the police headquarters and stared down at old woman seated just within the door. Her face was covered in sweat and her clothing was stained by the water that ran freely from all parts of her body, provoked, it seemed, by the least exertion. Her dark eyes stared at him with a violent hatred and her flabby mouth twisted cruelly as he spoke to her.

"So you didn't see the girl when she left?"

"What you want to know about a girl that young for?" she asked in a hiss, her accent heavy, her voice guttural. "You an infant-killa?"

"Nuh ramp wid mi," snapped Noel, drawing himself skywards and blocking out even more of the light, casting her into his shadow. Regaining control of himself, he growled, "Listen old lossaz, I've had about enough from you. I hired you to do a job, one stinking job, to keep an eye on that station. Now tell me what you saw..."

The old woman's eyes narrowed as she spoke in a vicious croak, "You always got me watchin' the pretty gals, first the China gal and now dis one..."

"You keep your mouth shut about the China girl or you'll end like her..."

"Watched her close, I did, everyday. Pretty little neck..." the old lady wheezed and laughed again.

"Tell me about this girl now," said Noel in a voice so full of menace that the old woman swallowed hard.

Her dark eyes glowed as she began, "Seen her plain as day, seen Nestor bring her in. She was all tears and crying, wailing for her lost friend like a sodomite who lost her lover..." the old woman rasped a painful laugh, her rudeness bringing her joy. "Seen her and Nestor trying to comfort her, playin' protector..."

"Where did she go?" asked Noel, having no patience for her twisted tangents.

"Nestor took her to the great, white hotel," growled the old woman.

"He took her to the MBM?" asked Noel for clarification.

The old woman spat on the floor, "The devil's livin' there, the devil..."

"You saw him take her?" asked Noel with a growl.

"Took her there himself, heard him too, heard him say there'd be someone there to protect her, so you ain't got shit even knowing..." the old woman laughed her rasping laugh again and then moistened her lips with her tongue. "You know where she is, but you got no way of getting to her..."

"Don't worry about that, boom dogg," snapped Noel.

"I done my job, I done my job," she snapped suddenly, her cruel laughter changing in an instant to a righteous, indignant demand. "You owe me..."

"Owe you nothing," replied Noel. "You got food and a place to stay..."

"Give me what you owe me or I'll tell..." began the old woman. The look on Noel's face made her rethink her words and she drew back like a snake awaiting its chance to strike.

Noel glowered at her a moment more and then pulled out his wallet. Removing a few bills, he tossed them on the floor in front of her and turned as she reached for the money, cursing him as she scooped up the paper and counted it greedily.

Noel looked down the long boulevard that ran near the shore, looking up at the enormous façade of the MBM as it dominated the skyline a mile or so away. He'd be there in a few minutes, he thought, not a lot of time to come up with a plan...

***

Inspector Adams reviewed the court order and looked up at the Gooden's lawyer. She was like everything that had to do with the Goodens, he thought; beautiful and powerful and clean on the outside and all filth on the inside. He wondered how Douglas had managed to get hold of her, was it by offering her something after she had become a lawyer or was it by offering something before? He offered her no facial expression, his soft eyes unreadable, his face a blank.

"He has not even been formally charged," he began softly. "It seems odd that the judge would be in such a hurry to release him..."

"He has no priors and as you can see, the judge has released him," she replied just as softly. "Really, Inspector, if you attempt to interfere, it will look very poorly for your side. It will make the whole thing look personal..."

The lawyer slid into a seat opposite him, offering him a generous view of a very enticing leg, which, to her surprise, brought forth no reaction from him what so ever. Hiding her reaction beneath a calm smile, she waited for him to speak.

"I am afraid that whether he is in jail or free, Mister Gooden will not be allowed to leave the island just at the moment," stated Adams as he stared at the paperwork.

The lawyer could not contain her surprise this time, "I beg your pardon..."

"I have an order that states that no one will be allowed on or off the island for the next forty eight hours," he stated quietly. "If he is out of jail, he still cannot leave. I, as you can imagine, will be seeking to have his bail and his freedom revoked before the end of that time period."

The lawyer leaned closer to the Inspector, her perfume floating enticingly towards him, her blouse draped against her firm breasts. Adams expression offered her nothing as she touched his arm gently.

"We are not so unalike, Inspector Adams," she said in a sultry voice. "We both want justice..."

"There you are wrong," replied Adams primly, "I have no wish to see justice done."

Her fingers stopped their motion on his arm, her eyes catching his as her mind calculated his words.

"I am seeking truth, counselor," he stated softly. "Justice can be purchased, but the truth is something beyond price. Justice can be made to serve the wealthy, the powerful, the well connected, but the truth, the truth is the same for everyone." He peered down at the delicate fingers that rested upon his arm, betrayed no emotion, "I appreciate your warning, counselor; I will advise my subordinate to release Mister Gooden at his earliest convenience. Please understand that he is working on four murder investigations just now, so he might not get to release your client immediately. We appreciate your patience in the matter. In the meantime, I see that I have work to do. If you will excuse me..."

Rising from his chair, the Inspector allowed her hand to drop from his arm without notice. With a slight, respectful bow, he strode out of the room. There was no hesitation and he did not look back at her. The attorney watched him leave and shook her head. He wasn't the only one who had work to do now...

### Chapter 14

Sarah awoke holding her pillow tightly, suddenly aware of the stuffiness of the air in the room. She had been locked up in the hotel room all day and had cried herself to sleep yet again. She stared at the clock and then turned towards the windows, the large, glass expanses that offered one of the best views on the sun drenched island. For a moment she was back on vacation and then the reality surged in on her mind like the waves the surfers were riding on the beach below.

How could they have done this to Justina? They were supposed to be spending their vacation ogling men and drinking themselves to oblivion; they were supposed to be making memories that they could reference in sly giggles for the rest of their lives but instead her best friend was dead, murdered execution style like in some gangster movie. Sarah began to weep again, why would they kill Justina? She had never done anything to anyone, she was the sweetest girl in the world and now she was gone.

Sarah thought back to the phone call she had to make to Justina's parents, her mother's screaming, her father's pained voice and her tears fell more rapidly. She had known Justina's family all of her life, had gone on vacation with them, had grown up with her brothers...Sarah shuddered, how could she face Justina's parents? Would they somehow blame her for what happened? Their only daughter dead, how could she face them?

She thought of her own mother, the panic in her voice. She wanted to take the first plane down, her terror growing when it was announced that they were cancelling all of the flights here. The police had stated that no one would be allowed on or off the island, no one was allowed to leave...Sarah shook her head and wiped at her tears. If she could only leave this place, get away from here... This was supposed to be paradise, this was supposed to be the greatest time of her life and it was a nightmare, a complete nightmare.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and listened to the man walking his beat outside of her door. The police had posted an officer outside of her room, "just in case", whatever that meant. Did they think that the people who killed Justina were now after her? Why would anyone want to kill her? She would have never thought of being murdered in a million years but now it was all that she could think about; what if people WERE looking to kill her? She thought back to the past few days, to their arrival, to their activities, what had they done? Oh sure, there had been flirting and teasing, but everyone was doing that down here. When you went to one of the night spots, it was all about the fantasy, all about looks and suggestiveness, but had they gone too far?

Thinking back to their first night on the island, she remembered how upset that one drunken guy had gotten when Justina had told him to get lost. She had kind of led him on, had teased him, but had he been that angry? Did he have anything to do with her murder? Sarah shook her head, no, no, that made no sense. She had seen him and his friends with a variety of girls since that night; he had been so drunk she doubted he even remembered them. No, this had to do with that guy, the guy Justina had gone with that morning, that Astin guy.

Sarah swallowed hard, she knew why her friend had wanted to go off with him, there was no sense denying it to herself even if she could never say anything to her parents or to Justina's. Justina really liked sex and she thought that guy would be good in bed, it was that simple. She kept saying that she wanted a real man, not some high school or college guy and when he had been evasive about what he did for a living, well, that had just added spice to the whole thing. Justina kept thinking he was some third world pop star, but his connections weren't musical as it turned out.

No, thought Sarah, Justina hadn't upset anyone and from what the police said, she had found out whether Astin was any good in bed by the time she had been murdered so HE definitely wasn't upset with her. Sarah had spent more than one night listening to Justina and her boyfriend getting it on in the back seat of her car. She had no idea of what the guy had been like, but from what she knew, guys like it when the girl is into sex and Justina was always into it.

She shook her head, angry with herself, she was making her best friend sound like a whore and Justina was a good person. No, this wasn't Justina's fault, it was that guy, he was responsible for it, somehow he had done something to someone and had gotten them both killed. It wasn't Justina...Sarah began to cry again and then she heard it. At first she thought she was being paranoid, but no, there was a sound like someone trying to turn a locked doorknob. She rose from the bed and peered down the little hallway that ran from the main hotel room, past the bathroom and to the door that led out into the hallway. She squinted as she heard the noise again. The handle was moving, ever so slightly as if someone were trying to turn the knob from the outside.

Sarah slowly retreated, listening for the sound of the footsteps of the policeman who was patrolling outside. There was no sound, no footsteps, nothing. Grabbing the phone on the desk at the foot of her bed, she began to frantically dial for the front desk. Someone had to answer, someone, for God's sake, PICK UP...

***

Vance sat on the bed, trying to gather his thoughts on all that had happened. He could hear Melissa taking a shower in their bathroom, the thought of his wife nude and available quickly crowding out his thoughts on the case. No, he scolded himself, think, think about the case...

The trip to the boat had been of no help, there was no way to establish a reasonable defense without the video of what had happened. No one could say for sure how long it had taken to kill Ming or how long she had been dead once she had hit the water. It had happened both too fast and too slow, the time line was grey and offered no true clues. It could have been Carlos or anyone else for that matter. As for expertise, anyone could break a neck if they knew how and he was sure he wasn't the only one who knew how to do it...okay, not a great argument, but he was trying to look at this in a larger context. It wasn't difficult to learn to do; with the internet you could learn how to break someone's neck on line for Pete's sake...

Then there was motive, why was Ming killed? Why had they killed her boyfriend? What had she and Carlos been like when they had been together? He had a hard time imagining quiet, complacent Carlos being a jetsetter, traveling the world with his gorgeous girlfriend, living the high life. Then there were the accusations that he was a killer, that he and his brother led a hardened criminal gang. He'd only known Carlos for about a year but he knew him as the dutiful, quiet, congenial boyfriend. Ginger was a sweet woman with a good heart, but she was a bit...demanding. Bluntly put, Carlos put up with an awful lot, something most ruthless killers would not do, even for a short time to provide an alibi. Carlos had been doing it for eight years, a fact that Vance could not discount. All that he was hearing about him sounded so out of character for him, he was either who he said he was or the greatest actor anyone had ever known.

Then there were the other murders, this young girl and this man with the loose ties to Douglas Gooden. Had he ordered the hit on them or had a rival done it? And again, if so, why? If Douglas had done it, had the man disobeyed some order? Had he been the killer? He had been on the boat; anything was possible, though his background from what Vance had heard did not indicate that he was a killer. Vance closed his eyes, what was he doing? He had resources, why wasn't he using them?

Glancing at the bathroom, he moved to the phone and called the operator, placing a call to New York. Five minutes later, Melissa exited the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel, a short white terrycloth robe showcasing her beautiful legs. She was somewhat surprised to find Vance on the phone, but when she heard the conversation, she merely smiled at him and took a seat on the bed next to him, listening as he spoke.

In New York, Len Edwards, Vance's co-worker and best friend sat at his cluttered desk at Tibbet Security, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his body relaxed and tilted to his right. As Vance spoke, Len carefully took notes, the phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear, his pale eyes half closed, his head nodding gently.

"I thought you went there for a wedding," he said casually, eyeing the list Vance had dictated.

"A murder investigation broke out in the middle of things," stated Vance.

"Most people just have a bachelor party for the groom," replied Len, leaning back in his chair. "Ginger really went the extra mile for him, didn't she?"

"You know she likes to be different," replied Vance. "I've heard of Douglas Gooden, I'm sure you have too. I never realized he and Carlos were related..."

"You'd think he'd mention his brother was an international drug kingpin," mused Len. "Still, with Ginger around, he doesn't get to speak much..."

"See if you can get one of our friends to run priors on the others, Ming and her boyfriend and this fellow Astin..."

"What about the girl Astin was with when he was killed?" asked Len.

"It looks like she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time," replied Vance. "If you have a chance, fine, but I think it's a dead end. Concentrate on the other three..."

"Will do," replied Len. "Is the wedding still on?"

"No," replied Vance. "The hotel won't give Ginger her money back, so since Carlos won't be out in time, there's going to be a hell of a party."

"I take it she's not dealing with this too well..."

"Your hearing must be bad," laughed Vance. "I'm sure you should be able to hear her from here...In the meantime, let me know as soon as you find out anything."

"Talk to you soon," replied Len.

"Len," said Vance tentatively.

"Yeah..."

"Do a little research on Carlos as well," said Vance, glancing at Melissa.

Len said nothing for a moment.

"Will do; talk to you soon."

"If I'm not here, leave a message, I'll call you back when we get back in," replied Vance, waiting for the click before returning the phone to its cradle.

Turning, he found Melissa examining him with a slight smile.

"Covering all possibilities?" she asked softly.

"I can't ignore what everyone is saying," stated Vance softly. "Whether we believe it or not, he does have a reputation; I just hope it is undeserved."

"It could be guilt by association," stated Melissa, the thought of her mother in prison orange flashing through her mind, "it does happen, you know."

Vance nodded, following her train of thought through the pain reflected in her eyes. Melissa's mother was in prison for being involved in the murder of her romantic rival as well as other unpleasantness. When he thought of what she had done to Melissa, it was hard to control his anger, but looking at his wife, he quickly calmed down; she was here and she was safe...

"That's why I asked Len to look into it," he stated softly, putting his arms around her and pulling her closer. "He's good at separating fact from fiction..."

Melissa drew closer, placing her head on his shoulder.

"I can't help thinking about Ginger..." she began softly.

"Which is how things should be, according to Ginger," smiled Vance.

Melissa giggled, reaching her hand up and pulling his face towards her, kissing him gently. Vance leaned towards her, wrapping his arm about her waist and slowly lowering her towards the mattress. Everything had been so romantic before and they both longed for that intimacy.

His hand slid between the folds of her robe, delighted to find that she was nude beneath the soft material. Her skin was warm and soft and ever so smooth to the touch. Her hands slid beneath his t-shirt, feeling the knotted muscles of his back. She pulled gently on the fabric, bringing it up over his head. They broke their kiss as he shed his shirt and gingerly pulled her robe open.

Vance stared a moment at her body, it was so perfect, so inviting. With a smile he lowered his mouth to her breasts, growing excited as her heard her breath catch as he ministered first to one, than the other. Her hands lingered at his waist, her touch sending chills throughout his body, a sensation between a tickle and a tease. She arched her back slightly as her hands fumbled with his belt, then the button of his shorts and finally his zipper. His pants slid down his legs as she propped herself on her elbows and began to remove the robe, but he caught her before she could finish and kissed her passionately, laying he back onto the soft material.

His need was growing more urgent, but he surprised her by sliding from her lips and leaving a trail of kisses at her throat, her breasts and down her body to between her legs. She gasped as his tongue caressed her entrance while his large fingers gently manipulating her nipples. Her hands grasped his head, holding him, directing him as she moaned and began to thrust her mound gently against his mouth. Her breathing became ragged, her heart pounding as he continued his gentle assault.

Breathlessly, she called out, "I need you, I need you so badly..."

His large form slid between her legs, his arms suddenly besides her shoulders. Reaching between them, she guided him into her. She was anxious now, perhaps even more anxious than he was and she slid her legs about his waist and pulled him deeply into her.

A moan escaped his lips as he felt her engulf him, "Oh God..."

Their lips locked as he began to move in her. She stayed with him, her hips locked to his until his motion increased. She felt the electric pulse growing between them, felt his need and then he gasped and filled her and a moment later she closed her eyes and felt her body's own release. Flinging her arms around his head, she pulled him closer as she climaxed, holding him and praying that she would never have to release him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, they relaxed. Melissa felt her breathing slow and smiled up seductively at him. Gently he slid to her side, his free hand brushing against her still sensitive skin. Reaching up, she pulled his face closer to her and kissed him lovingly.

"The investigation can wait a bit longer, don't you think?" she giggled.

"The investigation can," he smirked, "but I know I can't..."

***

Andrew looked at the skimpy line of people standing on the other side of the rope waiting to climb aboard his ship and sighed. They had just gotten the okay from Nestor to resume business operations, but they were still not allowed to sell liquor. Also, they would be accompanied by a police launch in keeping with the forty eight hour no leave, no entry policy that Inspector Adams had placed upon the island.

Scanning the crowd only deepened his depression. It was all young children and tired parents looking for a way to keep their kids occupied for a few hours. Gone was the party atmosphere that they had always tried to project. We're a floating nursery, he thought, even we get our liquor license reinstated. If this keeps up, no one will be drinking and it will cut our profits to shreds. Shaking his head, he saw Ziggy taking the last of the liquor down into the hold in a battered cardboard box. He looked up at his partner and gave a reluctant shrug.

It would be the way of things for now and they had both best accept it and press on. There were bills to pay and they weren't going to pay themselves. At least the awful song was children oriented. Maybe they could open a gift shop and sell unauthorized reproductions of beloved animated characters. Andrew shuddered, picturing himself in his mind's eye dressed up as a mouse hawking plastic ducks...

Sauntering down from the bridge, he saw the rope he had put up and the little sign saying that the bar area was closed. Moving to the gangway, he pulled back the rope and began to greet people. They would leave port with a ship less than half full of passengers and a police launch trailing them ominously across the bright, blue waters.

### Chapter 15

"Such a beautiful day," said Ginger's mother mournfully, staring out the window at a perfectly clear sky. Glancing at Ginger, she moved to her side and gently placed her hand on her shoulder, "You would have made a lovely bride, my dear..."

"Thank you, Mama," replied Ginger sourly. "I think we all know that I would have made a lovely bride..."

"And what a lovely maid of honor your sister would have made..." remarked Mama wistfully.

"With me as the bride, no would have noticed the maid of honor," stated Ginger.

"We still have the party to look forward too," offered Celia.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to spending all that money after half those cheap asses took back their gifts," huffed Ginger.

"Well, at least Carlos is being released," smiled Tete, sampling yet another mini-bottle of rum from the gift basket the hotel had sent up.

"He's late, per usual," snapped Ginger. "Two hours earlier and we might have been able to pull it off..."

A knock at the door stopped her. To everyone's surprise, Ginger was up in a flash and at the door.

"Carlos!" she cried, wrapping him in her arms.

He held her tightly for a long moment and then kissed her tenderly.

"How are you, my dear?" he asked softly.

"Unmarried," replied Ginger flatly.

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm so sorry..." he began as she pulled him into the room, his lawyer trailing discretely behind them.

Celia, Mama and Tete greeted Carlos joyfully as Ginger took in the scene. She allowed them a few minutes with him before reaching over and pulling him back to her.

"All right, all right, calm down, let the man breathe," she ordered.

Turning, she looked his attorney up and down, not attempting to disguise her disapproval. The woman was dressed in the shortest, tightest skirt that Ginger had ever seen and that was saying something. It wasn't that she didn't have the body for her outfit; quite on the contrary, she appeared to be an attorney with a promising future working in one of the higher priced strip clubs. Somehow, the combination so close to her man did not make Ginger feel all warm and fuzzy.

"If he had been out two hours ago, we could have had the wedding," Ginger, eyeing his attorney with a sneer.

"I did my best, Mrs. Gooden," replied the attorney sweetly. "I was lucky to get him released at all..."

"I thank you for your help," stated Carlos quickly.

Ginger frowned; she did not like the woman and not surprisingly, found it impossible to hide her feelings. What the hell type of attorney wore shoes like that? You didn't catch Matlock wearing heels that high... and her blouse was so tight she could practically read the label on her bra. Ginger shook her head; weren't no mystery how she won her cases. Ain't no man thinking about closing arguments when he's fantasizing about closing the deal!

Reading Ginger's face, the attorney forced a smile, "I should be going..."

"I want to thank you for all of your help..." began Carlos, taking her hands sincerely.

"I'll be in touch," replied the woman, purposely touching Carlos arm as she spoke. If his fiancé didn't like her, she might as well have a real reason...

Turning, she sauntered to the door and out into the hallway, turning to close the door with a little wave.

"Did you see them shoes?" asked Tete, knocking back the last of the bottle of rum.

"Indecent," stated Mama with a disapproving nod. "I know you did not choose her Carlos, but I don't think her clothing was appropriate."

"Seen handkerchiefs with more material than that skirt," added Ginger.

"What skirt?" asked Celia. "I'm sure the judge doesn't have to look hard to see her "legal briefs"!"

The others laughed, the ice broken. Each was happy that there was someone to criticize and that it was not them. Ginger put her arms around Carlos' waist, reluctant to let him go. Their problems weren't over yet, but at least he was here with her, not in some jail cell. Despite not wanting to admit it, she could not deny how much she loved and missed him.

***

Nestor sat in his office, examining the board upon which the entire Gooden case was laid out. He had pictures of all of the victims, timelines, evidence and still nothing to tie it all together. Why, was the question, why murder Ming? He was certain she was the key to all of it, but it made no sense.

Staring at the board, the faces, the times, the dates, he rubbed his eyes with the fingers of his left hand and rose from the desk. He felt tired, his body feeling like a boxer's who was in a tough battle with too many rounds still to go.

He tried to focus on what did make sense. Starting with Robert he mused; killing Robert made sense if you were afraid that Ming had told him something. Their apartment had not been ransacked, nothing was taken, so it was reasonable to assume that something she knew and might have communicated were the reasons to kill them both. Robbery was not the motive unless it was something one or the other had on them.

He rejected the idea that one of the Jamaican police had suggested that Carlos had come back after eight years and killed Ming out of jealousy; to his mind, it made no sense. No, she must have known something, something dark and secret, something potentially damaging to him or his brother.

The second set of murders had something to do with the first, but they only made sense to Nestor if Astin had been involved in the first set. From the prints taken onboard the ship, Nestor had confirmed that it was Astin who had tampered with the cameras and that made sense. The problem was confirming who did the murder on board; was it Carlos or Astin who had murdered Ming? He frowned, knowing Inspector Adams take on the case, but unable to completely embrace it. Adams held that Carlos killed Ming and that Douglas killed Astin to provide his brother with reasonable doubt when he went to trial. It was neat and the pieces fit, but something about it did not ring true somehow. What if Astin HAD killed Ming and Douglas had ordered him killed to clear his brother? Carlos said that he had spoken to Ming and wished her well, leaving her on deck and returning to his fiancés side. No one had noticed anything different about him, but then again if his reputation were to be believed, he would have shown no outward signs. Professional killers were known to be cold blooded. Astin had no reputation as a murderer and the same had been true about him. No one had noticed anything different about him after the discovery of Ming's body.

If Astin had killed Ming, he could have disabled the camera, waiting until Carlos had drawn her out and then killed her. There was time for either version of events to happen so everything hung on the one question; WHY?

Astin had no reason to kill Ming unless he had been ordered to do so; there was no record of any contact between them. Carlos had no reason to kill Ming, it had been eight years. Suddenly, the clouds seemed to lift and Nestor stared at the board as the light of reason broke over him. If Carlos had no reason and Astin had no reason, then why kill her? Because you were killing her for someone else! His eyes narrowed as he approached the board, neither of the potential killers wanted her dead, one of them had been ordered to kill her by Douglas Gooden. Why? Why would Douglas want her dead after all of this time?

His mind was in overdrive now, his thoughts coming at him too quickly, like a conveyor belt that had been turned on high suddenly when one was used to working at a slower pace. His head ached slightly from the effort, but he felt reenergized as well, knowing he was on the right track.

What had Ming known that Douglas feared her knowing? It could not have been anything that had happened to Ming recently, it had to do with her past, but it had to be something that leant some dark knowledge to a recent event, something that had happened to make whatever Ming knew from the past relevant.

Grabbing the phone from his desk, Nestor snapped the button that connected him to Ingrid. In addition to her duties as a dispatcher, Ingrid also helped him when he needed research done. Things had been so quiet the last few years he had had no need of her assistance in that area, but he needed her help now.

"Hey, Nestor," said a voice on the other end cheerfully, "still banging your head against a wall?"

"I don't think so," he said quickly, his excitement rising. "I need you to do some investigative work for me, Ingrid. I need some help finding out what's been going on outside of paradise..."

***

Douglas Gooden shifted slightly in bed, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Leaning back against the headboard, he shook his head thinking of the Inspector and his pointless running about seeking evidence. Poor, stupid Adams; did he really think that he could win? He could try to keep them here forever but it didn't matter really. He would never out think Douglas, he had tried to do so for years and had always failed and he always would. He would spend his life trying to make up for his inadequacies to his wife's ghost, such a fool.

Douglas thought of his own wife, a victim of an assassination attempt meant for him. He did miss her on occasion, but as he grew older he realized his mistake in having made the marriage in the first place. Women were tools to be used and it had been his mistake to think even for a moment that anyone had been irreplaceable. She was gone now and he had learned his lesson while Adams had gone on making the same mistakes over and over for the same reason. Revenge in his world had its place but within the confines of the law it made no sense at all.

In one sense at least Adams had done him a favor; by delaying him he was certain that Carlos was out of jail. With his brother's release an hour ago, Douglas was pleased that his brother's situation had been drawn to a successful conclusion. Also, they would be able to finish their business here on the island, the package neatly tied up. Douglas hated loose ends, despised unfinished business. Carlos would not fall into that category and until the right time, Adams always would.

There was, of course, still the matter of Astin. Noel had not reported back yet, but he was certain that he would be in touch shortly if the look on his face from this morning's meeting had been any indication. Noel would get the information he had requested or die trying, he smirked. Either way, Carlos would be beyond trouble shortly and the entire episode would be part of the past.

He had not heard her enter the room, lost in his own thoughts. She cleared her throat to gain his attention, slightly surprised that he did not seem startled by the noise. Then again, she knew that Douglas Gooden had trained himself never to show emotion, especially surprise. She realized that in his business, emotion caused hesitation and hesitation, even a slight hesitation, could be enough to get you killed. Looking up, he nodded approvingly.

As she sauntered seductively towards him, he reflected upon his understanding of life. Douglas refused to get emotionally involved with anyone after his wife's death. Take this woman for instance; she, like Noel or anyone else that worked for him, was here to serve a purpose, to fulfill a need. Once the need was fulfilled, once the purpose obtained, then it was time to move on to the next part of the agenda. He watched her as she approached; the gentle sway of her breasts beneath the sheer fabric, the darkness of her areola hidden shyly behind the marked protrusion of her nipple. The white, filmy top reached to just below her breasts, her torso tapering down into a trim waist and then flaring ever so appealingly into rounded hips and down, down, down along ever so shapely legs. The white G-string she wore disappeared into shadows with the delicious motion of her legs, drawing one's eye to it as it struggled to contain the puffy lips which pressed it from behind. Despite the obvious attractiveness, she was a hired hand to him, no more or less than someone like Noel. She was there to get things done, a means to an end, nothing more.

Douglas placed the file he was reading into draw of the nightstand next to his bed as she drew closer and then sat back, allowing her to sidle up beside him. He smelled the sweet fragrance of her perfume and of whatever it was that she used on her hair. She looked down at him, her dark eyes soft and glowing with excitement. Her lips appeared soft and supple, parted ever so slightly before perfectly white, even teeth.

She is very good, he thought, a cut above the others he had known. Of course she was intelligent and possessed some very unique qualities, it was why he had chosen her, cultivated her and educated her. Still, she was replaceable, he reminded himself, everyone was, except of course himself. Women liked to think they were special sexually, he mused, while men liked to think they were special intellectually. The truth was that anyone of them could be replaced, anyone. Oh it might take more than one person to replace all the qualities an individual possessed, but if you could read people as Douglas could, you knew what they were capable of even before they did. That was certainly true of her, he smiled, but she had been eager to learn. Top of her class, respected, a promising future and bored to tears. Douglas smirked, his world was dangerous but never boring and she had become part of it with a glee that had almost surprised even him.

"You are certain that Carlos is free?" he asked softly, his hand sliding purposefully up her inner thigh.

"Yes," she whispered with a shudder as his fingers slid beneath the strip of fabric between her legs. "I saw him and his happy fiancé..."

She was obedient, he thought, as he peered up into her face. She would do anything he told her to do. It always amazed him that the intelligent ones were always so desperate for approval. He increased the thrusting of his fingers as he studied her features. She did not want to appear as if she were enjoying it, did not want to show on her face and in her stance what his touch did to her, but her struggle for composure revealed more than an honest reaction ever would have done. People think that intelligence is all about control, so much for intelligence...

With his free hand, he pulled away the sheet, he was nude beneath the covers and his erection had grown large as he manipulated her. The sudden withdrawal of his fingers caused her to gasp and she caught herself on wobbly legs, struggling to maintain her balance. Reaching up, he grabbed the neck of her tiny, sheer top and with a firm tug, wrenched it away from her body, leaving her exposed. She liked being taken, he thought, a very telling sign.

She stood very still as he swung his legs off of the bed and turned to face her, his hand reaching around to the small of her back, pulling her closer, positioning her. She offered no resistance, eager to please him. He took her dark nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking on it hard. She winced, fighting to maintain her composure, praying he would resume touching her as he had before, but certain he would not. Douglas was interested in preparing her for his enjoyment but he was unconcerned with hers, a fact that strangely made the whole process more exciting for her.

Douglas' disregard for her needs set him apart, in a way it was what made him so attractive. He was no simpering, modern man. He saw what he wanted and took it, he was primal and she could not resist that in a man. Out of everyone she had ever known, he alone had spied the ability in her, had revealed the possibilities of what she was capable of, revealing them even to her. When he needed her, she was summoned, he didn't care and that was in an odd way what she needed; someone who did not care. She had been petted and admired all her life; she was smart, she was attractive, but she had never had to prove herself. With Douglas she was constantly proving herself, constantly working outside of the box, constantly thinking. He made you better than yourself, forcing you to be constantly on your toes and on your guard.

He pushed away from her and leaned back against the headboard, motioning her to straddle his erection as if he were directing his maid to remove the dinner dishes. She slid onto the bed and began to lower herself onto him. She was too slow and she felt his hands reach up and grasp her hips firmly and pull her violently onto himself. She grunted with the suddenness of the intrusion and saw the hint of a smile on his face. She began to grind against his member as his grip tightened on her hips.

Yes, she could have enjoyed a quiet existence; she could have gone far in conventional circles, but who cared for that? She loved the danger, the excitement of Douglas Gooden's world. He would never change, that she knew, she would have to be excellent always and even then, he was always looking for a replacement. She didn't care if she were ultimately replaced. To her way of thinking, she was like a great athlete, she was the best there was right now and how many people could point to that at any point in their lives? No, she had no desire to look back on a mediocre life, the life that was demanded of conventional people. She would embrace the dangers and the consequences be damned.

Suddenly, he grasped her tightly about the waist, his grip so tight it hurt and then she felt him tense. She held herself as still as possible as he came inside her with a grunt of satisfaction. Pulling her closer, he nestled his face in her breasts for a moment, before releasing his grip and leaning back on the bed, his face returning to the impassive mask he always wore.

Without a word, she retreated to the bathroom and cleaned herself up, returning with a washcloth and cleaning him while he returned his attention to the file he had been reading. Rising quietly, she turned to return to the bathroom when he cleared his throat. She turned, suddenly feeling nervous.

"You're not done," he informed her matter-of-factly, glancing up from the papers for just a moment before returning his attention to them.

Gliding back to the foot of the bed, she lowered herself onto the mattress and then slithered up his legs, her hands gently embracing his sleeping member. As her mouth encircled him, he smiled ever so slightly as he pondered what to do with the information he had obtained from the file.

### Chapter 16

Inspector Adams looked about the room, remembering his wife's wake. No matter who it was, no matter where it was, it was always the same. It was the same subdued lighting, the same quiet conversations, the same awkward stances, people facing the one thing they could never seem to face. No one seemed to know what to do with their hands after they shook yours and offered their condolences, sticking them in pockets or grasping a pocketbook or folding them across their chests. It was the age old question, how do you deal with a life that is done? He looked at the far side of the room, at the two caskets, side by side. Two young lives cut short. He thought of his wife, she hadn't been much older than these two, their journey together just begun and he fought hard against the remorse that beckoned him.

"Thank you for coming, Inspector..."

Adams broke from his reveries, looking at the older man, drinking in his sad expression. It was a moment before he recalled his name.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Winslow..."

"She was a good girl," replied Winslow softly, "and he was a good man. They loved each other so much..." he took a deep breath, struggling for composure. "They were like my own children...at least they found each other, had some happiness before..."

"He won't get away with it," stated the Inspector softly.

Winslow looked up with him, his eyes filled with pain, "Won't bring the children back, Inspector; nothing will..." Looking up, he saw a man he recognized enter the room, "If you'll excuse me..."

Adams nodded as Winslow crossed to the man. Winslow was right, what would bring them back once they were gone? Nothing would bring his wife back. A weight bore down upon his soul, a darkness that he had fought with many a night descending upon him like a heavy shawl thrust upon his shoulders. There was no justice for the dead, he mused, but maybe, just maybe, when the truth came out, they would rest a little easier...

***

Sarah sat crying hysterically as the policeman tried his best to calm her.

"I thought you were sleeping," he stated, rolling his eyes. It was like this every time, he would knock, she wouldn't answer, he would open the door and she'd be standing there with a phone in her hand calling the police. Then she would burst into tears. "I'm sorry I scared you, but I have to check up on you, that's me orders..."

"I didn't hear you knock..."

"I know, I know that," replied the policeman. Sitting on the bed next to her, he took her hand. Poor thing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry about everything that's happened, but you got to calm down..."

"Why did they kill Justina?" asked Sarah. "She didn't bother anyone..."

"I'm sorry, miss," he replied. "Sometimes, good people have bad things happen to them..." What was he supposed to say? He had no clues about why her friend had been killed or why he was babysitting her. He had nothing to offer but clichés and patience. He glanced at his watch discreetly, an hour till his replacement arrived.

After a time, he said softly, "Are you hungry?"

She nodded, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand, "Yes..."

The policeman rose and crossed to the phone, "Tell me what you'd like..."

"Just a burger," she replied. "A burger and some fries and a soda."

He nodded with a wry smile. She could have anything she wants and she orders a hamburger, there was a surprise, typical American. Speaking into the phone softly, he watched the girl and shook his head. Such a pretty young thing and so scared, it was a shame. Putting down the receiver, he crossed back to the bed and sat down again.

"Why do you think someone would come after you?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," she replied, forcing herself to calm down. "I just keep thinking, you know? I mean, there was no reason to kill Justina and they did, so why wouldn't they come for me? It makes no sense, I know, but none of it does, does it?"

"I'm here to make sure you're safe," stated the policeman. Rising, he smiled down at her, "Look, I'll be right outside the door. Your food will be coming shortly; don't get upset when I knock, okay?"

She looked up at him sheepishly, "I'll try not too..."

"That's a good girl," he smiled. "Now just relax, I'll be right outside. I promise when the food comes, I'll knock hard, okay?"

She nodded; he was so kind, "Thank you..."

Patting her shoulder, he sauntered outside into the hallway and gently closed the door. He waited a few minutes and then slowly made his way toward the end of the hallway. A large man turned the corner of the hallway and stood scowling as he approached.

The policeman shook his head, "She don't know nothing."

The man's dreadlocks swayed as he gave a glance to either side before he spoke.

"Are you sure?"

"Noel, have I ever given you or Mister Gooden any bad information?" asked the policeman with a slight smile. "I'm tellin' you, this girl is terrified and confused. She barely met Astin and she's got no idea of who or what happened to him or her friend. I was there when Nestor and the Inspector spoke to her. Tell Mister Gooden that she's got no ideas, didn't see nothing, didn't hear nothing. She's afraid the bogey man is coming to get her, scared out of her wits. She's got no clue to what it's all about, I'm tellin' you..."

Noel nodded, "You got any clues on who did Astin?"

The policeman smiled, "I kind of thought it were you. Ain't no sign of anyone else on the island who had a grudge against him. It weren't a robbery and..." his voice dropped to a softer level, "he weren't all that important to anyone but Mister Gooden. The thinking is it's a...family affair."

Noel nodded. He had expected as much, the police always went for the obvious explanation unless they were hit over the head with something else. Whoever had killed Astin and the girl had no direct connection with either one from the looks of things. Reaching into his pocket, he took out several bills and slid them into the policeman's hand.

"I'll let Mister Gooden know," he mumbled. "You know he won't forget it..."

The policeman pocketed the money and smiled, "I appreciate it and please let him know that I'll be keepin' me ears open. If I hear anything, you'll hear from me in the usual way..."

Noel nodded as he strode off down the corridor. It didn't make any sense unless...The thought seemed preposterous at first, but then again, they hadn't spoken in all this time... If Mister Gooden hadn't provided Carlos with an alibi, maybe Carlos had taken matters into his own hands. His eyes narrowed at the thought, but who could have worked with him on it? Then it struck him, that big white man! He had a military look and was close to Carlos. He'd suggest it to Mister Gooden if he hadn't thought of it already. Something wasn't right there and it was the only way to him that it made any sense.

***

Carlos sat on the bed looking down at his hands like a chastised schoolboy sent to the principal's office. Ginger lowered herself next to him and took both of his hands into her own. He did not look up as she spoke.

"Carlos," she began softly, "I know I can talk too much sometimes and I can get a little crazy...I ain't perfect though most people think I am and sometimes...well I know we don't communicate quite as well as we might on occasion and I know you ain't much of a talker, but Carlos...Carlos I need you to talk now. It's just you and me and I need to know what happened; all of it. Don't go trying to spare my feelings and don't think I'm judging you, but I want the truth, Carlos, I want the whole truth."

Carlos nodded his head, but did not look up. In a soft, sing song voice, he began, almost wistfully, to speak.

"For you to understand everything, I have to tell you some things I'm not proud of, something's I'd rather forget about, but if I don't tell you, you won't understand." He glanced at her and then looked back at his hands, "I'm a different man now, Ginger, I changed but before...well before, I didn't care much about other people. I liked things..."

"We all like things..." began Ginger.

"I REALLY, liked things," he replied with a shrug. "See, when you grow up without things, they take on a different meaning to you, it's what you live for, to get things... I was young and stupid and proud. I never knew my father and my mother died when I was just fifteen. Dougie was seventeen and we were alone in the world. Even when she was alive, my mother barely kept our heads above water and then when she died, we had to fend for ourselves, get by anyway we could... When you are hungry and the only way you see to eat is to steal, you steal. When you hate where you are and the only way to get out is to steal and rob, you steal and rob. I done things I ain't proud of, not cause I liked them, but because I needed to do them...WE needed to survive." He looked at her shaking his head, "I made my mistakes, but I done it to survive, so did Dougie in the beginning. Dougie was always smart, always knew things I could never figure out, was always looking ahead. It was Dougie who got us past stealing and living on the streets, got us an apartment, got us cars and money, that was all Dougie. I helped, don't get me wrong, I ain't blaming Dougie for what I did, but he understood that you got to build up or you'll never get out. Left to myself, I'd have never gotten past stealing to eat, I didn't know better, but Dougie, he had that drive, that ambition and he's smart..."

He stopped for a moment and said softly, "The only person in the world Dougie was close to was my Mom. I mean, he's my brother and I love him and I suppose in his own way, he loves me, but he never spoke to anyone but my Mom, she was the only one he would show affection, the only one he ever listened too...He took care of me and as he got more and more, he gave me more and more. Like I said, I was young and stupid, when you got nothing and suddenly you got money and cars and stuff, you just think it's never going to end, it will just be there forever, you understand?"

Ginger nodded and took his arm, gesturing for him to continue.

"They say I killed people," huffed Carlos. "I never killed no one... Dougie told people I killed people, my job was to stand around and look angry and never say anything; let Dougie do the talking while I tried to look menacing, you know? Dougie would use me to intimidate people, oh sure, I roughed some people up, I had to in order to maintain my reputation, you understand? I beat some people pretty bad, but I didn't kill no one. As Dougie became more powerful, he got guys who would think nothing of killing people to work for him, then he would use me to pull a bait and switch with his rivals."

"A bait and switch?" asked Ginger.

"He would send me to a place and people would say, "There's Carlos Gooden, someone's gonna get whacked," and they'd have people watching me and following me and trying to keep an eye on me and while they were doing that, Dougie would pull something off somewhere else. I was the decoy, you understand? I was the guy they would follow while the real action was taking place elsewhere."

"So how does that girl Ming enter into it?" asked Ginger.

Carlos looked away, "I met her at a party at Dougie's house. I didn't know nothing about love or anything, women were for sex and looking good, but Ming was different. She wasn't nice to me for money or giving it away for a good time. She was kind to me and we got close, real close. I was still stupid, but I was learning and she was teaching me, teaching me that there was some other kind of life, a better life. Ming, she grew up poor too so she knew what it was like, but she had an aunt who set her straight. She was attractive, but she weren't no party girl. She saw something in me I didn't know I had, you understand?"

"As Dougie's business got bigger, I went from going from one end of the island to the other to going from one end of the world to the other and I started taking Ming with me. Dougie has a lot of business in the Orient or Asia or whatever you want to call it and Ming taught me how to act over there, she knew the traditions and stuff. I was going from being the decoy to being his representative and she was helping to polish off the rough edges, or so he thought. Now don't get me wrong, we were having fun too, cause Dougie was giving us money to impress the people we were meeting with and believe me, we lived the high life, no doubt about it. But Ming got me thinking about that too, see, she didn't want to be a party girl or a gangster's girlfriend, she wanted to be a wife and mother and have a family; stuff I had never dreamed of, you know? Well the longer we were away, the more she influenced me, the more she got me to thinking. Finally, I didn't want what I had because I really didn't have nothing, it was all Dougie's so I went to him and told him that I wanted out, I wanted my own life, a real life, didn't want to be a thief no more..."

"And what happened?" asked Ginger after a moment of silence. "Let's face it, people in that line of work don't normally get to quit even when they want to..."

"That's true, but it does help to be the boss's brother," smiled Carlos. "As you can see, I didn't get whacked. Instead, he handed me a bill."

Ginger blinked, "A bill?"

Carlos nodded, "Like you said, normally you don't leave that type of life. You want out, you go out in a box if you're lucky; normally they don't find your body. I was his brother, however, so he spared me, but he needed to save face, you understand? Even your own brother can't just walk away, I had to pay something to get out, so he gave me a bill, a record of all the money I had spent and told me he'd let me live if I paid back all of his money that I had spent. I was angry, we had a fight but I took the bill, there really wasn't any choice, it was pay or die and I never doubted that Dougie would do what he said he'd do. I went back to Ming and told her all about it and she told me that if I wanted my own life, I needed to act like a man and go and work and make a life for myself. I told her I was going to New York and I begged her to come with me, but she said no, we weren't meant to be together and stuff like that..." Carlos shrugged. "We didn't leave on the best of terms, I was pretty angry but as I got my life together, I began to understand that what she did was for the best and that she needed to get out too, it was the only way she could have her own chance at a real life. I went to New York alone and with nothing, I got some jobs, legit jobs this time and I worked hard and you know the rest. All this time, I been paying Dougie back, sending him money and stuff..."

"So you're saying you didn't know about Ming being on the boat?" asked Ginger suspiciously.

"No...I knew," confessed Carlos. "The morning I went to breakfast with Dougie, we met and made peace, but there was one thing between us still and he wanted me to take care of it and then I'd be free and clear." He looked up at her and said softly, "When I was with Ming, I thought I was in love and I gave her something I shouldn't have..."

"What was it?" asked Ginger.

"A necklace," stated Carlos. "I gave Ming my mother's necklace. It was all we had left of my mother after the bill collectors took everything else. Dougie claimed it was his, that my mother had left it to him alone and that I had no right to give it to Ming in the first place. Ming, for some reason always loved it and always wore it. Maybe she realized that it was the one thing that I had ever given her that had meant anything to me. Anyway, he sent us on the boat so that I could ask her for it back and I did. I asked her to come out on deck with me and I told her the whole story and she gave me the necklace back, which I handed over to Dougie's man Astin to return to him."

"So she just gave you the necklace?" asked Ginger. "I don't know no woman who just gives up jewelry..."

"It was her way of breaking with the past, I guess," stated Carlos. "Besides, it wasn't worth anything other than for its sentimental value. It is just a cheap necklace..."

"So you gave it to Astin," said Ginger.

Carlos nodded.

"And you don't know what happened after that..."

Carlos shook his head, "I have no idea. I would have never hurt Ming. In a way, I guess I will always love her. Because of her, I was able to get my own life, because of her I was able to get with you..." he shrugged. "I don't know what happened, honest. Dougie had no reason to kill Ming and neither did I. I don't think Dougie told Astin to kill Ming..."

"What do you think happened then?" asked Ginger.

"Well, I think Astin killed Ming, he just done it and then Dougie had him...removed. See, Dougie don't like no one doing nothing unless he tells them to do it. Astin might have thought that he'd impress Dougie by takin' Ming out, I don't know, I can't say. That's all I know, Ginger, that's it. I just hope you can forgive me and that when we get back to New York, we can get married and put all this behind us."

"Ain't you forgetting something?" she asked. "You got to stand trial for killing Ming before we can get out of here."

"They can't convict me," replied Carlos with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They got no evidence and they got no motive. I would never hurt Ming; there is no evidence that I had anything to do with her murder. My lawyer says that the judge is going to dismiss the charges for lack of evidence 'cause the police got nothing..."

Ginger nodded and then impulsively, hugged him tightly.

"We should go down to the party," she said softly. "People will be wondering what we're up too. After all, we did pay for it..."

"Non refundable deposit," smiled Carlos ruefully. "We'll never make that mistake again..."

"Ain't ever gonna be an again," snapped Ginger. "We'll go get married at City Hall, just show up and send out a picture, "Here we are, got married, send presents!""

Carlos laughed, taking her hand and walking with her out of the room and towards the elevators to join the party.

### Chapter 17

"Nothing."

The word hung in the air as Vance squinted out into the fading sunlight, his mind trying to wrap itself around the implications.

"Nothing?" he asked into the phone.

"Well, not nothing," clarified Len, "but nothing to indicate a motive."

Vance shook his head, "What DID you find?"

"I found plenty on Carlos Gooden and Douglas Gooden," replied Len. "In the Caribbean, they're as big as you can get in terms of organized crime. I have pictures of a much skinnier Carlos in far off, exotic locals with that girl Ming and I have pictures of lots and lots of dead people who crossed him or his brother. It's the old familiar story, Vance, lots of killing, no clues, no witnesses and no convictions. About eight years ago, Carlos left Jamaica and started a very different type of life here in New York, at least on the surface. For a few weeks the media kept tabs on him and then lost interest. The cops have been tracking him for a while and though they can't prove anything there are things that seem not to add up."

"The story that the Gooden's put out was that an argument broke out between them and that Carlos moved up here to start a new life. I don't need to tell you that the police don't believe it. He and Ming broke up when he left Jamaica and from what I can tell, never contacted each other again, at least not until they met on that boat. Since you're telling me that Douglas gave him the tickets for the cruise, I'd have to think that wasn't an accident."

"I don't think anyone thinks it was an accident," replied Vance. "Tell me, what do our guys think?"

"I spoke to George," replied Len, referring to their police contact, Lieutenant George Davis of the New York City Police Department. "There's a lot that's very suspicious. First off, Carlos supposedly works as a limo driver, but when you examine things more closely, it appears he owns the company. There is a lot of complicated bookkeeping, all on the level, but all completely unnecessary for a legitimate business. Also, he has always made his own hours but the most important thing is that he only drives for certain clients."

"What type of clients?" asked Vance, knowing the answer before Len replied.

"Let's just say their all family men," replied Len. "George seems to think that he uses the limo as a mobile office, makes deals on the roll as it were. The cops have tried to bug the cars, but he's always changing cars, always one step ahead of them. There are rumors that the Goodens are trying to increase their presence in the North American drug trade and that Carlos is the point man for the whole expansion operation."

"Another thing is that while he and Douglas haven't communicated directly some of Douglas' associates have been Carlo's clients. Most of our friends think that the entire thing is a ruse. They feel that the brothers are expanding their empire under the guise of an argument."

"Then he flew down to get married as you know and from appearances, that was the first time he spoke to his brother or to Ming since leaving Jamaica. What they spoke about, no one knows and there we stand."

"What about the girl and the guy Astin?" asked Vance.

"I did a quick check on the girl; she was just a soon to be college girl who was on vacation and, from the various report, misbehaving like soon to be college girls will do," stated Len. "There is nothing on her and nothing to suspect. Astin was an electronics expert; a hacker with a pretty good sized rap sheet. He also had a desire to become a made man, at least as far as my contacts have been able to determine."

"Was he an up and comer?" asked Vance.

"Not as far as we can tell," stated Len, reviewing the sheets of paper on the desk in front of him. "Lots of people want to work for Douglas Gooden, but it didn't look like he was being promoted within the organization for that type of work. He was suspected in a number of hacking jobs that have taken place in the hotels in the area, credit card info theft, that type of thing but again, nothing proven. From where I sit, we can't prove Astin wasn't the killer anymore than the defense can prove he was. It's all just one big mystery and mysteries mean no conviction."

"The information about Carlos..." began Vance softly.

"No convictions," started Len, "but you know how often drug dealers of this magnitude are convicted. I've talked to a lot of our contacts, Vance and they're all of one opinion..."

Vance nodded as Len continued. None of it made sense to him.

"Why?" he asked suddenly, stopping Len in mid-sentence.

"Why?" asked Len. "Why what?"

"Why would Carlos kill Ming?"

"I've got no motive," stated Len, sounding confused. "Do you think he killed her?"

Vance shook his head, "I haven't truly believed it a possibility but could everyone be wrong? See if you can't get me a why, Len..."

"I told you, Vance," replied Len patiently, "I got nothing."

"Dig some more," replied Vance. "I need to be sure."

"Okay," sighed Len. "I'll keep digging..."

"Later," said Vance, hanging up the phone.

Turning, he watched Melissa enter the room, dressed in a beautiful blue dress.

"I was going to wear this to the wedding," she said with a shrug, "no sense letting it go to waste. It is a party after all..."

"What type of party," said Vance softly, "an almost-got-married party?"

"A non-refundable deposit party," giggled Melissa. She looked at him, reading his features, "What did Len tell you?"

"Nothing much," replied Vance, trying to make light of the situation.

"Nonsense," she replied. "He said something upsetting; I can see you thinking..."

Vance shrugged, it was useless to deny things to Melissa, she read people too well, him especially.

"There is just a lot of dirt in Carlos' past," he said with a squint. "Something doesn't add up..."

"You think he's a killer?" asked Melissa.

"I don't know," replied Vance. "Can a person really change from being a killer to...to Carlos?"

Melissa shrugged, "There are few outward signs to a sociopath. They appear just like you and I except that they have no remorse, no feeling of guilt. They can function at very high levels and deceive people for a long period of time."

"But for eight years?" asked Vance.

Melissa drew closer, "If you're trying to make a case for Carlos being a conniving sociopathic killer in your own mind, let me tell you that it isn't so outrageous. Sociopaths prey on people through their weaknesses and what we might see as a strength they see as a possible weapon to use in their manipulations. Take Ginger for example; if Carlos wanted to do things without anyone noticing, one of the best people to befriend would be Ginger."

"Ginger isn't ignorant..." began Vance.

"Absolutely not," she replied, "but she is self-absorbed. She isn't a person who hides her head in the sand; she's a person who is so self involved that she doesn't see the beach at all. I love Ginger, but she won't see what another person is doing unless it comes into direct conflict with what she is doing. As long as she's not affected, she's not going to notice."

"What about you and I?" he asked. "Do you think he could hide that from us for eight years? You're a trained psychiatrist..."

"Who has spent a total of ten hours with Carlos over eight years and those were at dinners and parties and God knows what else," stated Melissa with a laugh. "I wasn't there to analyze him, I was there to socialize. He has always been charming and quiet, which can be characteristics of a sociopath just as much as they are for anyone else."

"As for you, how much time have you spent with Carlos? You've only known him for two years and we have never spent time with him without Ginger being there, which means that you've had no time alone with him. Let's face it, honey, with Ginger in the room you've had no chance to talk with him beyond pleasantries."

"So you think it is possible that what Len just told me, that he's a murderer, might be true?" asked Vance.

Melissa looked slightly pained, "Since they arrested my mother, Vance, I don't find it hard to believe much of anything. Might Carlos be a murderer? Of course it is a possibility. Do I believe it? Frankly, I don't know what to believe..."

Vance took her hands and sat down with her on the bed, "I thought you believed he was innocent..."

"I want to believe he is innocent," she began reasonably. "Not for my sake, but for his sake and for Ginger's...I don't know what happened between him and that girl Ming. We don't know their past; was there something worth killing over? I don't know... Would Carlos be capable of killing her? Yes, physically he certainly has the ability. Is he mentally capable of it? I don't know him well enough to say one way or the other..."

Vance nodded, lost in thought.

"Come on," said Melissa, rising and taking his hand. "We need to get to the party."

Vance arose, his features descending into a scowl. Melissa looked up at him and grimaced; it wasn't a pleasant thing to think about, your friend's fiancé possibly being a killer. It wasn't a pleasant thing at all...

***

Andrew and Ziggy checked the last of the lines and secured their boat for the night. Walking down the gangplank, Andrew hesitated and glanced back at the boat.

"What's the matter?" asked Ziggy quietly.

"We might lose her if we don't do better than we did today," said Andrew softly. "Bills don't go away because you got troubles."

"Don't go thinkin' like that," replied Ziggy. "Business will pick up, you wait and see. The Inspector lost in court today, the flights and boats will start comin' in tomorrow and we'll have a whole new group who never heard nothing about no murder comin' in and lookin' for a good time. For a few days we won't be able to sell liquor and then, boom, we'll be mixing drinks and makin' money just like we was before!"

Andrew nodded, "Yeah, I guess you're right." With a shrug, he looked at Ziggy, "How's about you and I go and get a drink..."

"Discount drinks at the MBM tonight," stated Ziggy, a smile creasing his ugly face. "First round is on me!"

"Fine, but there's only gonna be two rounds," stated Andrew pointedly. "Got to be sharp tomorrow for all those newbies who are comin' in..."

"Now ya talkin'!" snapped Ziggy.

Falling into step with his partner, Ziggy began laughing as they began to walk up the hill towards where the resort stood. He and Andrew had been through a lot, but they had always prevailed in one form or another. An optimist at heart, Ziggy knew they would make it, but it wouldn't be easy...

***

Ginger stood in her mother's room, hands on hips, her mood not improved by the attitude she was encountering. The elderly lady sat defiantly looking at the wall, slowly turning to face her daughter, her features set in a judgmental and harsh frown.

"I done it once, I ain't doing it again," stated Mama firmly. "I held my head up high at the cancelled bridal dinner, but I'm not going down there for this, this PARTY. The man is involved in a murder investigation, this is NOT the time to have a party, Ginger, I don't care what you paid for it. It is disrespectful and people will talk! I think I should just go home..."

"With your tail between your legs lookin' like we're guilty as sin," interrupted Ginger. "I ain't havin' none of it, Mama. I need you down there, the police are gonna be there..."

"To arrest him again?" drawled her mother. "I didn't ask to be the mother of a gun moll..."

"We need to support Ginger," interrupted Tete. "We need to show some family support now! The girl's been through the mill, we got to show her we got her back!"

"And where is Celia?" asked Ginger, glancing around the room. "I suppose she thinks the party is a bad idea 'cause you told her it was..."

"I'm not sure, but I believe she is in her room packing," stated Mama defiantly. "None of us should have ever come here. How can you think of having a party when there are four dead people sitting in the morgue and a cloud of suspicion over your boyfriend's head? We should have never come here. This whole vacation has been a disaster..."

"Ain't a vacation, Mama," snapped Ginger, "it's me wedding! You came here to see me get married..."

"And you ain't got married!" Mama rose majestically and pointed a finger at her. "I had my suspicions from the first, child, this man seemed just too good to be true. Now it ain't like you caught him cheatin' with another woman, he's accused of MURDER! This is NOT the time for a party and you..." she said, turning on Tete, "you keep quiet! You ain't never had no sense; it's always time for a party with you! Don't sit there and tell me nothin' about savin' face and keeping up appearances! You just want free drinks and you know it! Well, I'm done! You go to your party, you keep up appearances, I'm staying here and try to preserve some of my dignity and some respect for the dead! I will be in my room until I can catch a plane and go back home and THAT'S final!"

Tete looked from Mama to Ginger and then took Ginger by the arm, "Child, you go downstairs. I'll talk to her and your sister, you go ahead, we'll be down before you know it."

"Don't care if she does come down," snapped Ginger over her shoulder. "Let her do whatever she pleases!"

Gaining the hallway, Ginger made her way towards the elevator. Pushing the button, she was surprised when the door opened immediately. Caught off guard, she stepped tentatively inside the elevator and waited for the doors to close. Once they shut behind her, she turned and pushed the lobby button, realizing that she was alone, all alone for the first time today. Letting out a deep, shuddering sigh, Ginger began to yell at herself.

"Hold it together, girl, hold it together. Don't let them see you cry, don't let no one see you cry," she scolded.

With a great effort, Ginger managed to get herself under control as the elevator touched down on the ground floor. Wrapping herself in attitude, she sashayed out of the elevator making her way towards the ballroom where her reception would have been. To her surprise, the manager, Christopher, gestured to her from the lobby and as she slowed, began to approach her. What the hell did he want?

"Good evening," he said pleasantly and discretely.

"Good evening," replied Ginger suspiciously.

Christopher looked down, seemed to be searching for the right words.

"I just wanted to say that if there is any way in which I can be of service..." he looked at her sympathetically. "I understand that what should have been a joyous occasion has become a difficult moment...well...if there is anything anyone here can do, please do not hesitate to let me know."

Ginger stared at him as if seeing him for the first time and then cleared her throat.

"Thank you, Mister Manager," she said in a whisper.

She watched as Christopher offered her a warm smile and with a slight bow retreated back to the lobby. Slowly, she entered the room that would have been her reception hall and was greeted with a loud cheer by her friends and family. Ginger forced a smile and crossed to Carlos, who took her in his arms and led her to the dance floor. The music was slow, but happy, filled with hope and love and the two danced while their friends applauded, slowly filling the dance floor and joining them.

### Chapter 18

Douglas Gooden sat in the back seat of his limousine as the car pulled into the underground garage at the MBM. Seated next to him in a very short, very tight dress was his attorney, her dark hair flowing to her shoulders, her eyes smoldering. Opening her briefcase, she pulled out a set of papers and handed them to Douglas.

"The judge signed them an hour ago," she purred. "The police failed to prove a case so he is free to go. With the travel ban lifted, he can be out of here by tonight..."

Douglas reviewed the papers and nodded, "Good...tonight I can tie up all loose ends..."

The car drew to a halt and after a moment, the door opened and Noel greeted Douglas as he exited.

"Did you find out what I sent you to find out?" he asked casually.

Noel looked about, uneasy about speaking outside of a closed room and in front of a lawyer.

"Yes, sir..."

Douglas looked at him expectedly.

"She don't know nothing," said Noel softly, pitching his voice low. "The police questioned her and got nothing from her..."

"You're sure?" asked Douglas.

"Certain..."

Douglas nodded, "Then let's go up to the rooms..." Checking his watch, he grimaced slightly, "We'll have company shortly."

Looking at his attorney, he offered her a plastic smile, "Come, my dear, we have some work to do." Turning back towards Noel, he said quietly, "Leave the other boys down here with the car, we won't be long..."

Noel watched the attorney's long legs as she fell into step with Douglas. Noel motioned to the other guards to remain with the car and then he walked behind Douglas and his attorney to the service elevator. Noel shook his head, wanting to speak to Douglas about his suspicions, about the big white man and his brother, but he would never say anything in front of an attorney. They could talk later...

***

Vance turned away from the bar with a pair of drinks for him and Melissa and froze. Blinking several times, two words overwhelmed him and he said them without even thinking.

"Super Fly..."

Ginger's Tete was on the dance floor, surrounded by a throng of admirers, dancing as if possessed by the spirit of Soul Train, circa 1973. Her afro had grown to something just under the circumference of a hot air balloon and her fire engine red tube top and polyester bell bottomed pants ensemble cascaded in flowing, flouncing glory, leaving just enough space between hem and heel to reveal the largest pair of cork wedgie shoes he had ever seen. If Ron O'Neal had stepped out of the shadows wearing a full length white fur coat, a large brimmed white fedora and had begun speaking about "The Man" he would not have been surprised.

Melissa walked up beside him and took her drink from his hand, watching with amusement his expression, which changed from scowl to dismay to surprise and back to scowl again.

"I feel like I've been transported back in time," he muttered finally.

"I keep hearing the theme from "Shaft" running through my head and as loud as this music is, I can't make it stop," admitted Melissa, sipping on her drink.

"Where do you even get those clothes anymore?" asked Vance. "I mean, they look absolutely pristine. Who knew that polyester had that type of staying power?"

"It's made of completely inorganic material," replied Melissa, trying to suppress her smile. "As long as you don't rub it up against anything it should last forever."

"Oh," he said, his expression becoming pained, "remember how you'd get a shiny spot on the material if you rubbed up against anything?"

"I can't believe Tete's isn't shining like a spotlight with the way she's rubbing up against everyone," replied Melissa.

Glancing down at her feet he shook his head, "If she falls off of those shoes, she'll break her neck."

"Luckily, the afro would break her fall," stated Melissa. She turned to him with a smile, "I don't know how old she is but she still has the moves, doesn't she?"

"I'm waiting for her to do the James Brown split," smiled Vance. "If she does, someone has to remove one of those table cloths and throw it over her shoulders."

Melissa laughed, "I think that would be a bit much..."

Vance gestured with his free hand, "You don't think THAT get up is a bit much?"

"Come on," she giggled, taking his hand and leading him towards the dance floor. "Let's see what you got."

"You know I can't dance," he said, both embarrassed for himself and excited to see her dance. Melissa moved beautifully and he thought her about the sexiest thing alive when she danced.

"Oh, come on," she giggled, leaning up and kissing him. "You danced at our wedding..."

"Oh, what the hell," he smiled, "no one will be looking at me anyway..."

***

Andrew lumbered up to the bar in the hotel lobby, Ziggy at his elbow.

"Two rum and cokes," he said softly to the bartender before turning to see Nestor and Inspector Adams standing in the doorway that led to the lobby, speaking in hushed tones.

Poking Ziggy, he gestured towards them, "Look at the baldheads..."

Ziggy peered towards the two, "Wonder what they're doing here. You don't suppose there's been another murder, do you?"

"People droppin' like flies on this damn island," replied Andrew, taking too large a gulp of his drink. "I wonder if they'll close down this place as well."

"Don't hold a grudge," laughed Ziggy, sipping his drink and finding it stronger than he expected. "Ain't a bad drink..."

"Not everyone waters them down, you know," laughed Andrew.

"They make so much profit, ain't no need," replied Ziggy.

Andrew looked over the room, it was lit enough to cast interesting shadows in the corners. The walls were done in beige and brown with gold accents and the entire room felt somehow both intimate and enormous.

"They spent some money on this place, no doubt about it," he stated, taking another gulp of his drink.

Frowning to himself, Andrew looked down and could not help smiling at Ziggy. He would never admit it, even to his best friend, but he did not like the taste of alcohol, not even rum. He'd rather have some ice tea, listen to some music and smoke a little weed; now that, to him, was a relaxing time. He glanced down at Ziggy and his smiled broadened. Placing his arm around his friend's shoulders, he took another swallow and finished off the glass.

"You're a good friend," he said to Ziggy, giving him a squeeze.

"You ain't bad neither, my brother," laughed Ziggy. Squinting across the bar, Ziggy gestured, "Look at them women over there, we should go talk to them."

Andrew laughed, Ziggy was an eternal optimist. The women were young and beautiful and dressed to the nines and the two of them smelled of the ocean and of a long day at work and Ziggy was as ugly as sin. Oh, what the hell...

"Lead the way," laughed Andrew, pointing to the bartender. "Send the next round over there and get some drinks for them girls!"

***

A handsome looking man in a white serving coat and black trousers approached Vance and Melissa with a smile holding a tray that contained several cocktails. As Melissa reached for a glass, the man produced a small white rectangle from his pocket and handed it to her. Without a word, he sauntered away before Vance could reach for a drink.

Melissa frowned and opened the small piece of paper which had been folded several times. After reading it, she handed it to Vance, who read the note with curiosity.

"Maybe you should go first," she suggested. "I can follow in a minute, it would be more discreet."

Vance nodded, "Okay, but don't be too long."

As nonchalantly as possible, he made his way across the room and out into the hotel lobby, his eyes scanning the crowded area until he saw the sign for the smoking lounge. Quickly he made his way towards the sign, which pointed him down a hallway off to the left. At the end of the hallway, a dark door opened into a large room, dimly lit where blue/grey smoke wavered in the air like an early morning fog. Tables were perched in the corners of the room and along the walls and after a moment, he located his party. Crossing through the shadows, he made his way to the table and sat down without an invitation.

"And where is your good lady wife?" asked Inspector Adams, peering up at the muscular giant.

"We thought it best not to leave together, it might raise some suspicion as to where we were going," replied Vance.

"Mister Tibbet," began Adams quietly, "I appreciate you leaving your friend's get out of jail free party to meet with me." Adams leaned back and placed his fingertips together in his lap, his dark eyes looking sad in the shadowy light. "I have made some inquiries about you, sir and I understand that you have many, many friends in law enforcement."

"The nature of my work," stated Vance softly.

"I understand," smiled Adams. "It is also the nature of my work, as you no doubt understand, to be slightly distrustful. In your case, however, I have had such a universal agreement, that I have decided to do something I rarely do without having had the pleasure of personal acquaintance..."

"And that is?" asked Vance.

"I am going to confide in you, Mister Tibbet," stated the Inspector. "I hope that you do not think it forward of me to do so, but I am hoping a lot lately..."

Melissa made her way over to the table and sat down as the two men stood, Vance pulling out her chair for her.

"I was just telling your husband of the high praise I have heard from several of my colleagues regarding him," stated Inspector Adams.

Melissa smiled slightly, "I'm very proud of my husband..."

"As well you should be," agreed the Inspector, "and I am certain that he justly feels the same way about you, Doctor Tibbet. I have made inquiries regarding both of you and I have been led to believe that you are both to be trusted."

Melissa glanced at her husband and returned her gaze to Adams with a new air of seriousness.

"Trust us about what?" she asked.

"I need your help," he stated frankly. "If I cannot come up with more evidence in this investigation, a murderer will walk free."

Vance and Melissa exchanged another glance.

"Are you sure that the man you think is guilty..."

"Really, Mister Tibbet," stated the Inspector, gazing down at his hands patiently, "you of all people understand the situation." He looked up solemnly, "I am sorry, Mister Tibbet, but we both know what truly happens if a leopard is inclined to change its spots in the business that Carlos Gooden is involved in. I am certain that you have made inquiries, we have several mutual acquaintances..."

"But none of you have found anything," stated Melissa softly.

"We found four dead bodies, Doctor Tibbet," stated Adams calmly, "that is something don't you think? We have been most thorough, we have a mountain of evidence regarding the deaths of each one, but I do not have any direct evidence as to who caused them. I only have common sense Doctor and Mister Tibbet, and that clearly points to two people who have a habit of leaving dead bodies in their wake."

"Even if you are correct, Inspector, Carlos could not have killed at least three of the people who are dead," stated Vance evenly. "I know that doesn't mean he could not have killed the fourth, but you must admit that it is a distinct possibility."

"But not a probability, Mister Tibbet," stated Adams. "No one on that boat had a reason to kill that girl except Carlos Gooden and his brother, Douglas. No one else on that boat was near her at the time of the murder; everyone was accounted for except Carlos and Astin LaRoche."

"Then what about Astin LaRoche?" interrupted Melissa. "We know he was in the employ of Douglas Gooden, perhaps HE killed Ming and then was killed as a way to cover Douglas Gooden's involvement."

"Mister LaRoche was not a killer, Doctor," stated Adams, his dark eyes looking at her sadly.

"He may have wanted to be one," stated Vance, "at least that is one rumor that I have heard..."

"Wanting to be one, Mister Tibbet and BEING one are not one in the same," replied Adams. "Mister LaRoche was a criminal, perhaps even one desiring to expand his resume, but this was not the type of situation that Douglas Gooden would have left to chance." The Inspector leaned towards them, speaking confidentially, "Think; you have a situation from which there is no escape possible, everyone restricted to a boat, everyone in view of one another for all but a few moments at best. Under the circumstances, they could take no chance that the girl might survive or the entire plan would have been exposed and there was no way to get rid of a boat filled with witnesses. No, she would have to be dispatched quickly, expertly. Douglas Gooden would not have gambled on a first timer like Astin LaRoche, no, he would have used someone about whom he had no doubt whatsoever."

"It still doesn't answer why," stated Vance. "Why would the Gooden brothers want to kill Ming? It's been eight years, Inspector; they could have done it at any time..."

The Inspector shrugged, a most disarming response.

"It is my theory that they thought Ming remembered something of importance, not to her, of course, but to them," stated the Inspector. "If I knew for certain what it was, I would have what I need, or at least be on the right track to obtain it. It is the missing piece of the puzzle."

"Even if what you say is true, Inspector, how could we possibly help you?" asked Melissa. "It is not as if Carlos would admit anything to us, never mind Douglas..."

"Carlos might not speak to you, Doctor. Tibbet, but perhaps his fiancé might," replied Adams.

"You obviously don't know Ginger," stated Vance. "She has no problem speaking to anyone..."

"I understand what you mean," replied Adams with a slight smile.

"Ginger would never be involved..." began Melissa.

"I am not suggesting she would be," replied the Inspector. "She might, however, have seen or heard something of use to us."

"You want us to spy on our friend in order to help you put her fiancé away?" asked Melissa.

"I want you to help the truth to be known," stated the Inspector. "If you won't, then there is every possibility that several murderers will go free..."

### Chapter 19

Carlos was speaking quietly with a few of Ginger's friends who had made the journey to attend their wedding. Ginger drew closer and placed an arm around his waist.

"Excuse us a minute," stated Ginger, pulling Carlos gently to the side.

"What is it?" asked Carlos.

"Mama ain't coming down," she said softly, eyes flashing. "She wants to leave tonight; her and Celia are upstairs packing."

Carlos frowned, "Perhaps if I spoke to her..."

"I don't think it would help," snapped Ginger. "Tete spoke to her but she couldn't change her mind."

"Well," drawled Carlos, "I can be pretty persuasive. I got you to marry me, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and look at how well that went," replied Ginger sourly. "I can't wait till this party is over..."

"It will be over before you know it," replied Carlos sympathetically. "I appreciate you putting up with all of this, for standing by my side..."

"And we ain't even married yet," pointed out Ginger, "don't forget that! You got a lot of making up to do when we get back to New York..."

"Let me start now," smiled Carlos. "I'm gonna go up and speak with your Mama. Let me try to talk some sense to her..."

"It ain't gonna help..."

"Let me try," replied Carlos. "Give me a chance..."

Ginger considered it, "Oh...go ahead. See what you can do, but don't be disappointed if she don't change her mind. She's a stubborn old Jamaican woman..."

"We'll see how it goes," replied Carlos, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be back before you know it..."

Ginger watched Carlos make his way across the dance floor and out of the room. Maybe he could get her to come down, who knew? He was brave to try, that was for sure. She watched Melissa and Vance reenter the room a few moments later and head in her direction.

"How are you?" asked Melissa, drawing nearer.

"It ain't easy girl," replied Ginger. "I got all these people staring at me like I'm guilty of murder, I got a mother and sister who won't sit in the same room with me and a Tete who's more interested in partying than in helping me."

"Where's Carlos?" asked Vance.

"He went upstairs to speak to Mama; thinks he can change her mind," she replied with a dismissive wave. "Like he ain't got enough troubles, trying to reason with a stubborn old woman..."

"What are your plans?" asked Vance.

"His lawyer told him that he's allowed to leave, the police haven't charged him and they don't have anything on him," stated Ginger. "Our tickets are for the day after tomorrow, but he was talking about changing them and leaving tomorrow."

"What about his brother?" asked Melissa.

"How the hell should I know and why the hell should I care?" asked Ginger. "He's the one who caused all this trouble. Carlos told me everything..."

"Everything?" asked Vance.

"Everything," replied Ginger. "All about him and his brother and how he used him."

Melissa and Vance listened as their friend told them all that her fiancé had told her about his early life, about his argument with his brother, about all they had done together.

"You say he gave the necklace to Astin?" asked Vance.

"Yes," replied Ginger. "Gave it to him and that's all he knows about it."

"Excuse me," replied Vance, looking at Melissa with a nod as he headed at towards the lobby.

Melissa wanted to say something to Vance but drew to a stop, surprised by tears in her friend's eyes.

"Ginger," she began softly.

Ginger wrapped her arms around her friend and said in a soft voice, "Oh girl..."

***

Nestor stood behind his door at the end of the hall and tried to be inconspicuous. As the only person wearing a police uniform on a floor full of criminals, this would normally not be an easy task, but due to an arrangement with the manager of the MBM, he was able to do all of his eavesdropping from behind the doorway of the suite at the opposite end of the hall from Douglas Gooden's rooms. Inspector Adams had felt that the brothers would not leave the island without speaking and so he had kept in touch with all of the hotels on the island. When Gooden had arranged to take a room for one evening at the MBM, the manager called and Adams arranged this stake out. Of course the problem was that Douglas Gooden was no normal criminal, he would never make the mistake of being obvious which meant that they could not get the suite bugged prior to his arrival, even if they had had a sympathetic judge to hear their request.

So I'm standing down the hall from...from what exactly, thought Nestor. Douglas Gooden is down the hall, doing what? He had seen him enter with Noel and a woman and no luggage. To his eyes, that meant he was meeting with Carlos and then leaving for parts unknown. Why were they meeting? If Carlos didn't change his tickets, he would be leaving the day after tomorrow, so at least on the surface, they weren't going to the same place. Why were they meeting? They hadn't met since before the murders. To Nestor's mind, that meant that they were going to exchanged whatever had been the reason for Ming's murder, it could be the only explanation. Why else take the chance?

Nestor peered through the peephole in the door and scanned the hallway. Nothing; there had been no movement since the three of them had entered the suite. Nestor stared out as a couple from another room opened their door, dressed for dinner. They spoke in the hushed tones one reserves for high end hotel hallways and made their way to the elevators that stood mid-hall. Nestor watched the door for a while longer, but nothing happened, no shadows, no signs of movement, nothing at all.

If this was going to be of any use, he needed to get into that suite, but how? He was too far away, too far removed to do anything but watch the door. Nestor's mind began churning the problem through his brain. He needed to get into that room, but how?

***

"Ridiculous," stated Adams dismissively.

"Is it?" asked Vance.

"Of course it is," replied Adams. "It is the lie a desperate man tells his fiancé when he doesn't want her to know he is a murderer."

"How can you be sure?" asked Vance.

"Because, Mister Tibbet, we searched all of the people who were on the ship that day and there was no necklace," replied Adams patiently. "Mister LaRoche had no necklace on his person."

"A necklace is easy enough to hide..." began Vance.

"A true criminal would not have even bothered to hide it," stated the Inspector. "He would have slipped it on and worn it himself. No one would have questioned him about wearing a cross, but I assure you, he wore no necklace and he had none on him. Believe me, I have been through the reports a hundred times, I have them just about memorized. I've also looked at the photos a hundred different times and I can state categorically that he did NOT have a necklace on his person and neither did Carlos Gooden."

The two men stared at each other a moment before Vance whispered, "Ginger..."

The Inspector waved his hand again, "She certainly would have remembered him giving her a necklace two minutes before he was accused of murder and I have looked at her photos, she did not have one on either. We checked her pocket book; of course we checked everyone's pocket book and listed all of the items..." Adams paused, "Just as they knew we would..."

"They knew where you'd look," stated Vance. "They knew you would record every item, but if that was the real reason they spoke to Ming and they had planned to kill her, they also had to know that you would have discovered it on them or at least seen it. If the necklace was the reason for Ming's death, then they had to get the necklace off of the boat because that was what Douglas wanted..."

Adams looked at Vance, a light glowing in his eyes, "I know where it is..."

"You know where it is?" asked Vance. "How?"

"Because I have seen the pictures a hundred times and there is only one way they could have gotten the necklace off the boat. The only thing I don't know is if they have already removed it from its hiding place, but even if they did, that is why HE is here. They did not make the exchange yet, that is why Douglas Gooden is in the hotel..."

"He's here?"

"He took a suite upstairs," replied the Inspector. "Nestor is watching the rooms as we speak. He had to have come here to get the necklace from his brother before he left the island tonight. His jet is fueled and ready to go..."

"So you think they never exchanged the necklace..."

"How could they if he didn't get it to Astin?" smiled the Inspector. "They could not have gotten it from Astin because he did not have it, Ginger had it all along! I know I am correct. All we have to do is catch Douglas Gooden with that necklace and we have our connection. Ming's friend, Winslow, he could identify the necklace, it could work! Come, Mister Tibbet, we have some investigating to do..."

### Chapter 20

"How are you holding up?" asked Ziggy, a large smile on his ugly face.

The girls they were talking with had left to go to the ladies room and the situation had reached a promising crossroads. With that in mind, he did not want his large friend to mess up what was shaping up to be a very good evening for a very ugly man. Usually Andrew was suave and sophisticated, but three drinks in, he became sloppy and loud and with negotiations at a critical point, Ziggy wanted to make sure his friend was on the same page and ready to play.

"What you mean?" snapped Andrew, taking a sip of his drink, happily wandering through the alcoholic warmth that was enveloping his mind.

"You ain't a drinker," replied Ziggy, looking at Andrew's glass with an accusatory stare. "Three drinks in and you'll get sloppy and these girls don't like sloppy."

"As long as they like ugly, you ain't got nothing to worry about," laughed Andrew. "I'm fine, steady as a rock..."

"Well, ease up, that's your third and I'd like to close the deal, these girls are fine."

"Liquored up and ready to go," smiled Andrew, "perfect combination for a female..."

"I do love tourists," confessed Ziggy, finishing his own drink in a gulp. "You throw the accent on a little thicker and act all happy and they're ready to make an evening of it."

"Quiet down, they're coming back now," smiled Andrew, watching the two women sashay through the growing crowd in their skin tight dresses. He leaned over and said through his teeth, "What are their names again?"

Speaking through his teeth, Ziggy replied, "Brianna and Becky..."

"I got Brianna?" asked Andrew, trying desperately to focus but finding his mind unwilling to commit to the thought process.

"No, you dumb ass, you got Becky," replied Ziggy as the girls drew to a halt. "HELLO LADIES!" he continued with a big smile, handing them two fresh drinks. "We were counting the minutes while you was away..."

"It's getting crowded in here," whined Brianna, wrapping an arm across Ziggy's shoulders. "What do you say we continue the party upstairs?"

"Upstairs?" asked Andrew, trying to ignore the growing suspicion that his thinking was lagging a step behind the proceedings. "What's upstairs?"

"Our suite, silly," replied Becky, reaching up on tippy toes and giving him a passionate kiss.

"Ohhhh," replied Andrew, the kiss rebooting his mind. He smiled at Ziggy, "UPSTAIRS!"

"Upstairs it is!" snapped Ziggy, placing a guiding arm around Brianna's waist and heading her towards the door.

Looking back, he saw Andrew and Becky following. Perfect, he thought, he didn't finish the third drink which means he got enough steam left to get upstairs in a reasonable condition. Brianna gave his backside a friendly squeeze and Ziggy pulled her closer. With any luck, this would be the fun evening he had been praying to have.

***

Christopher stood in the center of the living room area of Nestor's suite, hands pressed together, looking over Nestor with a critical eye.

"Well?" asked Nestor.

"You look like a policeman dressed as a waiter," replied Christopher unhappily. "You're too...too... what's the word I want?"

"Too damn good looking?" asked Nestor, nattily adjusting his bowtie.

"Nooooo," drawled Christopher, "too military, that's the word. The suit fits but the attitude is all wrong. You need to be more eager to please and obliging; your stance is all wrong. Try being a little more...supple. Waiters don't stand there looking like they're going to present arms. Relax a bit; you look as if you'll slap the cuffs on them if they ask for extra napkins."

"Fine, fine," replied Nestor, looking down at his new outfit. "Does it fit all right?"

"Nothing wrong with the fit," replied Christopher, drawing closer and fidgeting with Nestor's tie. "A little too new, unfortunately, but that can't be helped I suppose..."

"All right, I have the costume, now how do I get in?" asked Nestor.

Christopher rolled his eyes, "We do not have costumes here; do you wear a costume? No, it's a uniform, we have standards, we don't pretend to be the ultimate resort, we ARE the ultimate resort."

"Fine, fine, sorry, sorry," replied Nestor quickly. "Didn't mean to upset you, no harm...Now how do I get into the room?"

"We need a premise," stated Christopher. He eyed the ceiling for a moment, "Perhaps a complimentary gift basket..."

"From who?" asked Nestor. "He doesn't have a lot of friends who would send him a gift basket unless it concealed a bomb..."

"The management," replied Christopher. "Whatever else Mister Gooden is, he is a guest here and he is spending good money to rent that suite for the evening. A complimentary gift basket would not be out of the question."

"Yeah, but he might have muscle in there," replied Nestor. "His bodyguards might just take the basket at the door and not let me in."

"You have a point," replied Christopher. "Perhaps you could install a listening device in the basket..."

"You can't go eavesdropping without a court order," replied Nestor. "The inspector applied for one, but they refused it."

"Then I'm out of ideas," replied Christopher.

"What about a complimentary meal?" asked Nestor. "Then I could stay and serve it in the room..."

"No one gives a complimentary meal en suite," replied Christopher dismissively. "You take a high roller to your finest restaurant..."

"He ain't a high roller," stated Nestor, recalling Gooden's profile. "He don't gamble."

"Then he "don't" get a meal," replied Christopher.

"Now's no time to be stingy," replied Nestor.

"If the man has been all over the world, nothing would make him more suspicious than a hotel giving him a free meal he hasn't paid for in some other way," replied Christopher haughtily. "No, it has to be the complimentary basket or nothing. Anything else would raise his suspicions..."

"Perhaps you could come with me," stated Nestor, "make a bit of a presentation..."

"He rented the suite, he didn't purchase stock," replied Christopher. "It's a good suite, but it isn't the most expensive. He'd get suspicious..."

"Don't you sometimes greet well known people?" asked Nestor.

"Not well known killers, no," replied Christopher. "Dignitaries, celebrities, yes, but I draw the line at reality television stars and known murderers. Besides, I have to have something to say. What would I say to Mister Gooden, "So happy you brought your business to the Montego Bay Majestic, please make sure to deposit all bodies in the proper receptacles?" I would be hard pressed to avoid mentioning how he earned the money to afford the room, don't you think?"

"You've spoken to despots and tyrants, I'm sure," stated Nestor. "I thought you knew how to be diplomatic..."

Christopher sighed and then looked at Nestor as if he were instructing a slow child, "Despots and diplomats are different. Diplomats don't murder people; they establish policies that eventually murder people, so you reference their policies, not the results of those policies."

"Couldn't you do that with Mister Gooden?"

Christopher tried hard not to look appalled, "And how would I manage that? Refer to his policies? "I am accompanied today by our concierge Nestor. Usually our concierge is a woman, but since we disagree with your policy of pressing vulnerable women into prostitution, we felt it best to have a man fill the role as to save us time on training a replacement once you abduct her?" I mean really. You have to have some idea of how the world works, Officer Nestor. There are limits to diplomacy. When you can't hide the fact that the fact can't be hidden politely by a lie, than you can no longer be diplomatic..."

"Fine," replied Nestor, his head beginning to ache. "Just give me the basket and I'll take it in and see if there isn't some way to prolong my time there..."

"I will order up a basket," stated Christopher. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Nestor offered a faint smile, "Just pray that whatever happens, it ends peacefully."

"Just let me know if you're going to make an arrest," stated Christopher as he reached for the phone to order up the basket. "I will need to charge his credit card beforehand if we have any hope of getting paid..."

***

Ginger and Melissa stepped off the elevator and headed down the hallway towards Ginger's room.

"Can't believe I messed up my mascara," stated Ginger.

"You could have borrowed mine," stated Melissa.

"No, you don't use the kind I like," stated Ginger. "Can't believe I forgot it in the first place... Damn old woman makes me so mad, I'd forget my nails if they weren't glued on..."

"Are you feeling better now?" asked Melissa, watching Ginger fish in her pocketbook for her room card.

"I had a good cry," confessed Ginger. "I guess it's to be expected, what with everything going on..."

Ginger pulled out the card triumphantly and swiped it in the lock. The door clicked and she pushed it in, annoyed to find the suite completely dark.

"I tell Carlos all the time, leave a damn light on so you can see what's happening and instead, he shuts the stupid light every time..."

Flicking the switch, she sauntered her way through the living room.

"It's in the bedroom; I won't be a minute..."

Melissa trailed her towards the bedroom door, taking in the furnishings as they went.

"It's a beautiful room..." she ventured.

"Cost enough," mumbled Ginger, opening the bedroom door and finding it dark. "Damn it, I told him to leave a light..."

Flicking the switch on, she stared at the bedroom.

"What the hell?"

Melissa peered in, what had happened? Clothes were strewn about the room, suitcases thrown on the bed, open, their contents pulled out and dumped about in piles. Seated on the far side of the room, Carlos looked up at them, his face impassive. In one hand, he held what looked like a deflated haystack, in the other; something glimmered against his dark hand.

"Carlos, what the hell is going on?" asked Ginger, advancing a few steps into the room.

Melissa, sensing a "private moment" began to back away towards the living room, but something large suddenly appeared behind her and thrust her back into the bedroom. She heard the door slam shut behind her. Catching herself on the edge of the bed, she turned to see a huge man with waist length dreadlocks standing menacingly between her and the door. Ginger glanced over her shoulder at the man and then back at Carlos, who eyed her like an appraiser examining a picture.

"You shouldn't have come up here," stated Carlos finally.

"I needed to fix my mascara..." began Ginger.

"You shouldn't have come up here," stated Carlos again. "But perhaps, it's better this way..."

### Chapter 21

Douglas Gooden looked at his attorney as she lowered her cell phone from her ear, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. Her outfit, a light grey skirt with a gauzy, cream colored sleeveless top, hugged her figure admirably. Douglas allowed himself an inner smile; so intelligent, so educated, so easily controlled. Let a woman think that she is being replaced and it makes her wish to serve more ardently. Douglas shook his head, so simple...

"Your mechanic says that the plane is ready, Mister Gooden, we can leave at any time."

Douglas nodded and returned his attention to the papers he was reading. Everything was here, a fact that displeased him. Douglas did not like his business written out on paper, but it was necessary if he were to get up to speed on his newest acquisitions. Much of it he knew, much of it, however, was a pleasant surprise.

Douglas attorney eyed the woman standing behind him. She was dressed in black stirrup pants, dark blue blouse and form fitting jacket, her pretty face impassive, her attitude all business. He had preferred her in her thong and sheer top, he mused, but it was not the appropriate outfit for business, not this type of business anyway.

Shooting a chilly glance at the woman, his attorney spoke, "Is everyone coming?"

Douglas nodded.

"Today starts a new chapter, my dear. My team is in place and I prefer that we all remain within arm's reach in case certain contingencies come up."

"Won't that create certain...questions?" asked the attorney, glancing up at the woman, who met her gaze with an icy stare.

"I don't care about questions," murmured Douglas. "People can draw whatever conclusions they wish. After all, they seldom truly exert themselves to get to the bottom of things. It's easier for most people to make up a story to fit the situation and then forget about it completely. Faulty memories have served us well in the past, haven't they?"

The attorney smiled, "You have a point, as always..."

Douglas grimaced, "I'd like to think so..."

The attorney rose and sauntered towards the bar, avoiding his gaze. She began to mix him a drink.

"Nothing for me," he stated calmly. "There is some final business to conduct before we leave..."

Hearing the disapproval in his tone, she limited herself to a glass of seltzer with lemon, which she prepared in full view, and then sauntered to a chair off to the side. Best to be quiet now, she thought; his mind was on other matters.

Douglas returned his attention to the papers, his eyes scanning the figures and totals. After a few moments, he looked up at the woman behind him and then down at his attorney.

"You both understand what is expected of you," he said, a statement, not a question.

"Yes," replied both of them softly.

"We will have to move quickly once our business here is concluded," stated Douglas. With a nod towards his attorney, he continued, "I may send you to the plane ahead of us. There may be business that needs to be conducted...in private."

The attorney suppressed a twinge of jealousy.

"You always have the protection of attorney/client privilege..." she began.

"I don't like to invoke privileges," replied Douglas dryly, "it leaves one open to complications. I don't like complications..."

The attorney nodded, "If you need me to go..."

"I will inform you," finished Douglas. Looking at the other woman, he continued, "You have your instructions. As we have the room for the evening, I would prefer we take care of all of our business here."

The woman could not contain her surprise completely.

"Here," she stated, taking in the fact.

He watched her for a moment; saw the calculations taking place behind her veiled eyes.

"Here," he stated, "unless I say otherwise. I want to leave this island with a clean slate, if you will..."

The woman merely nodded, her mind turning over scenarios and possibilities.

Douglas looked down at his papers and allowed himself a small smile. They would do what they were told, they always did...

***

Andrew tried hard not to look across the suite at Ziggy. The living room area of the suite featured two large couches that looked out towards the balcony. When they had entered, Ziggy had claimed one, Andrew the other, allowing them both to slowly create a more intimate feeling with the women they were with while still maintaining the idea that they were all together. The problem for Andrew was that Ziggy had a bad habit of trying to appear urbane in these situations and there was no one less urbane that Ziggy. Perhaps it was that he was unattractive, or that he tried too hard, but when he tried to appear smooth, especially in front of people who knew him, it just came off as ridiculous.

The problem with your best friend being your partner is that you see them in every different situation, in every different light and shade, good and bad. Ziggy had many good lights, no argument there, but he was also very shady in a lot of different ways. Andrew had attended weddings where Ziggy had brought freezer bags in under his shirt to steal shrimp from the cocktail hour and he'd attended funerals where he had brought multiple flasks to fill with the deceased's unconsumed alcohol while everyone was standing in the other room commenting on how natural the guest of honor looked. Somehow, while you could forget certain things about certain people in certain moments, one could never quite forget Ziggy being Ziggy. Even in the most serious moments you never quite forgot what you had, so now Andrew's mind was not focused on kissing the girl he was kissing, but on Ziggy hiking up his shirt and slapping a freezer bag of stolen shrimp under it.

He began smiling, which the girl took to mean that he was enjoying the kissing as much as she was, so she broke the kiss and suggested that they leave the party for some alone time.

Andrew smiled, "I don't think they'll miss us."

Peering over his shoulder he looked quickly back at the girl, blocking her view. This was done to keep her from seeing Ziggy kissing her friend, which could have created a lifetime of nightmares for her. Ziggy was an ugly kisser, no matter whom he was kissing. Andrew smiled at her but internally shook his head; the girl was fine, but watching her kiss Ziggy reminded him of a fashion model getting busy with a damn grouper fish.

Taking Becky's hand, Andrew rose quietly and led them towards the bedroom, their actions unnoticed by the pair still on the couch. This would be much better. For some reason, once one was out of sight of Ziggy, one forgot about him, so Andrew could concentrate on the work at hand. The girl sauntered out in front of him and eased herself down onto the bed, patting the space beside her in invitation. Suddenly, he couldn't have thought of Ziggy if he had tried.

***

The elevator drew to a halt on the floor below the Gooden suite and Adams and Vance stepped out into the hallway.

"Her skirt?" asked Vance.

"It's the only way," murmured Adams, moving quickly down towards the end of the hallway in search of the stairwell. "She had on something that looked like a grass skirt, Nestor and I have commented on it many times. Your friend wears outfits that...well... that invite comment."

Vance thought back to the outfit. One thing about Ginger, her outfits always left an impression...

"So you think he placed the necklace in the folds of the skirt for safe keeping."

"Exactly," stated the Inspector. "Astin didn't have it on him and neither did Carlos. Neither was wearing a necklace or chain of any kind. He couldn't give his fiancé the necklace as a gift because she would want to keep it..."

"Is it an expensive piece of jewelry?" asked Vance as they gained the stairway and opened the door.

"It is a very non-descript piece of jewelry," stated Adams as he bound up the stairs. "At least I think it is; I've only seen pictures of it, some photos in which Ming was wearing it, a simple gold chain with a simple gold cross..."

Adams held up a hand for silence as they reached the door to the hallway and slowly opened the door, peering in the direction of Douglas Gooden's suite. The hallway was empty.

"Come," he said softly and then casually, he made his way towards the suite in which Nestor was staying.

Gaining the door, he knocked softly. Nestor opened the door, dressed as a waiter, the hotel manager standing behind him.

"Welcome gentlemen," smiled Nestor, stepping aside and granting the two men entrance.

The two men entered as if they were expected guests and waited until Nestor closed the door before relaxing.

"What are you doing here, Inspector?" asked Nestor.

"There is going to be a meeting tonight, Nestor," stated Adams, "and we think we know why."

"He's up that way," stated Nestor, pointing down the hall towards Douglas' room. "None of them have stepped out of that room. Why do you think they're meeting?"

"That necklace, the one Ming was wearing," stated Adams. "Carlos took it and never had the chance to give it to Astin, or decided on the boat that the switch was too risky to chance."

"I've been over the lists a thousand times, Inspector," replied Nestor. "Neither one had a necklace on them..."

"They hid it in his girlfriend's skirt," replied Adams quietly.

Nestor considered it, "Aw hell, now that makes sense. She was wearing that thing that looked like a hut blew over..."

"Exactly," replied Adams. "He hid it there and they're exchanging it tonight."

"It still doesn't make sense," stated Vance. "All of this for a necklace?"

"It only makes sense if you know Douglas Gooden," stated Adams. "He wanted that necklace and he gets what he wants, period. All we have to do is catch Douglas with it, we can prove that he was in on the plot to kill Ming."

"Does it have a locket or something in it?" asked Vance. "Perhaps something is stored in it..."

Nestor shook his head, "Not from the pictures; it looks like a simple gold necklace with a cross hanging from it."

"It was his mother's," stated the Inspector, "that's all it needs to be. The most important thing is that we find it on him."

A knock at the door caused the men to freeze. Nestor made his way to the door and with a glance back at the others; he opened the door with a large smile.

"I bring the basket you call for," stated Katarina, stepping into the room with a large basket covered in yellow cellophane paper.

"Did anyone see you, my dear?" asked Christopher, moving towards her protectively.

"A man in the lobby, I think he look at my ass," replied Katarina matter of factly.

"No, he means from down the hall," stated Nestor, taking the basket from her.

"I don't know," she stated. "I no look down the hallway, I wasn't going there."

"Have you received any calls for the people down the hall?" asked Christopher.

"No, all has been quiet with them," she stated, taking a seat on the couch that Christopher gestured towards. "I tell the staff to stay away from this floor like you said."

"Then we're all set," said the Inspector. "Nestor, you're going to go down the hall with the basket in a few minutes. I was thinking, tell them that the people below them complained of a leak in the bathroom downstairs and ask them if you can go and take a look at it to make sure nothing is wrong."

"Our bathrooms don't leak..." began Christopher.

"In real life no," replied Adams, "however, it would give Nestor a few minutes more in the suite if he could convince them that there were a problem."

"Where is the bathroom?" asked Nestor. "I don't want to go in and start searching for it, it would make them suspicious."

"The suite is the same as this one, only in reverse," stated Christopher. "You would go in, each bedroom has its own bath and there is one off of the living room."

"Go for one of the bedroom ones," stated Adams. "With any luck, they'll leave you alone to conduct your search. Take your time..."

"Okay, Inspector," stated Nestor, "I'll do me best."

Nestor took the basket and gaining the door, peered out the peep hole before opening it. Easing himself out into the hallway, he headed down the corridor towards Douglas Gooden's room. Standing before the door, he took a deep breath.

"Here we go," he whispered to himself and pulling himself to his full height, he knocked on the door.

***

"Okay, out with it," snapped Ginger. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Shut up," snapped the large man standing behind Melissa.

"Who the HELL do you think you're telling to shut up?" asked Ginger, turning on him, eyes flashing. "Let me tell you something, ain't NO man telling me to shut up..."

"Ginger, if I could speak?" interrupted Carlos calmly. "Noel isn't used to having to explain himself, he's never been engaged."

Noel grunted at the comment as Melissa drew closer to Ginger, nervously glancing in his direction. Noel did not look like the type who took kindly to people correcting him on any level, never mind a Ginger sized correction.

"Let's hear what Carlos has to say," offered Melissa quietly.

"Thank you, Doctor Tibbet," smiled Carlos ever so slightly. "You see Ginger, it's like this. What I told you was true, Ming gave me the necklace, slid it right off of her neck, but when Inspector Adams began searching, I was sure I would have to turn out my pockets and he would naturally question why I was in possession of a dead woman's necklace."

"You said you gave it to that other fellow," stated Ginger, glaring at him.

"Well, I did try to do so, but they would have questioned why he had it in his pocket also," stated Carlos. "We might have gotten away wearing it off of the ship, but why take the chance? If they had caught me with it, they would have accused me of murder, so I did the only thing I could. I hid the necklace in the only place I could think of, I wrapped it around some of the grass in the band of your skirt."

"How could he do that without you noticing?" asked Melissa, slightly confused.

"Oh, that man's always feeling me up," stated Ginger. "He's so clumsy, how the hell would I even notice..."

"Precisely," stated Carlos. "You didn't notice, but you were a huge help because you carried the necklace off of the ship for me."

The two women stared at him a moment, each following their own thoughts.

"If Ming had just given you the necklace and you had no idea that the cameras were out, why would you think that anyone would suspect you of her murder?" asked Melissa.

"I don't like to trust the police, Doctor Tibbet," smiled Carlos. It was a strange smile, for the smile did not reach his eyes. "You and your husband, you've had positive experiences with law enforcement, me, not so much. No, Adams would have pinned the murder on me and used the necklace to hang me with..."

"Why didn't you tell me you still had the necklace?" asked Ginger.

The smile faded, "I could not trust you to keep quiet about it, Ginger. You would have wanted to say something to someone."

"I didn't tell anyone anything about what you told me..." began Ginger.

"But you will, eventually," replied Carlos. "You're not a refrigerator, Ginger; you don't keep anything..."

Noel snorted a dry chuckle.

"Now we're going to go upstairs," stated Carlos with an icy calm. "Dougie is waiting and we're going to finish this entire business. It's good that you're here; we can tie up all the loose ends..."

"What loose ends?" asked Melissa. "Why do you need us to go see your brother? Why not just go and finish your business with him yourself?"

Carlos stared at them a moment and shook his head, "You understand why, Doctor Tibbet..."

Melissa gasped and Ginger grabbed her arm.

"What the hell is he talking about?" she snapped.

"I'd rather not take any chances," stated Carlos quietly. "We'll let Dougie decide what is best..."

### Chapter 22

The woman frowned at him for a moment, undecided as to what to do. No one knew that they were coming here; it had been arranged at the last moment, so it was extremely doubtful that there was any harm in receiving the gift. Still, one could not be too careful.

"The basket is compliments of the management," repeated Nestor. "Also, we're sorry for the inconvenience about the bathroom, it has never happened before..."

The woman stepped back ever so slightly and with a motion of her head, gave him permission to enter the room. Nestor stepped in, keeping the basket between him and the woman. She was sexy, he thought, but something told him she was dangerous as well.

"Follow me," she instructed, motioning him to walk in front of her, letting him make his wasy towards the living room area.

Nestor took in the room with a quick glance. Another woman sat on a sofa, calmly sipping a drink while Douglas Gooden sat on a chair looking over some papers. Nestor was surprised to find him alone with two women; he was sure that he never was out of the sight of at least one of his bodyguards. Something about this set up was unsettling to him.

"He has a basket, compliments of the management," said the woman in a soft voice.

Gooden looked up and frowned, "Why didn't you take it from him at the door?"

"There's a leak in the room downstairs," explained Nestor quickly. "The manager asked me to check the bathroom in the bedroom to see if it is coming from the plumbing up here."

Gooden's frown deepened and he seemed about to tell him to get out when he stopped as if reconsidering the idea. With a wave of his hand he snapped, "Hurry it up..."

Nester nodded and smiled, "Certainly sir, sorry for the inconvenience, won't be a minute..."

Moving quickly, he gained the bedroom door and threw it open, glancing behind him to see if anyone had followed. To his relief, the woman had positioned herself between the door and Douglas and then had drifted back towards Gooden. Nestor turned on the lights and made his way to the bathroom, sliding inside and half closing the door. He could still hear from the confines of the bathroom, but what he was listening in on was not worth hearing.

"What's in the basket?" asked the woman sitting on the couch, or so Nestor assumed.

"Did you check it when you brought it in?" asked Douglas coldly.

"I didn't think it was necessary..." began the woman who had opened the door.

"No, you didn't," he replied scornfully. "Put it out in the hall."

He heard the rustling of paper and then the opening of the suite door. Then silence. If they were not speaking, they were waiting and if they were waiting, they were thinking of him. Perhaps he should have had the manager call on some pretext, hopefully to get their minds off of him; maybe that would have helped...

"Are you almost done in there?" snapped a female voice, closer than he would have preferred.

He had no alibis, the bathroom was pristine.

"Yes, miss," he called out, slowly opening the door. "Everything appears fine from what I can see..."

"No one used that bathroom," she stated with unmistakable attitude.

"It certainly doesn't look used," he agreed, sidling out of the door and walking past her.

She fell into step behind him and seemed to be on his heels. This wasn't going to work.

"Sorry to have disturbed you, sir, miss," he said, nodding towards Douglas and the woman on the couch, slowing ever so slightly.

Neither looked up at him, there was no reason to stop. Perhaps if he faked a heart attack...no, too obvious... Making his way to the door, he felt the other woman almost on top of him.

"You can take the basket with you," she said flatly. "Mister Gooden doesn't like sweets."

"There are other things..."

"He doesn't want it," she stated flatly.

Opening the door, he saw the basket to his left. Leaning down, he picked it up, rising just as he felt the door brush against his backside as it shut behind him. He lingered a moment as if inspecting the basket, but heard nothing and then headed towards the elevators. Best to complete the charade, he thought. He would take the elevator down and then come back up via the stairway, just in case they were watching. He glanced at the door at the end of the hall where the Inspector was watching and shook his head ever so slightly. The plan had failed. As he boarded the elevator, he grimaced at their failure; it had been a long shot anyway.

***

A moment after the elevator door closed, the door to the stairway opened and Carlos peered down the hallway. The coast seemed clear and he beckoned to the two women, who followed him into the hallway. Melissa and Ginger tried to walk out into the hallway in a natural manner, but neither had any experience in being held hostage.

"Can't believe you'd let this Rastafarian tree hold a gun on me," snapped Ginger in a whisper over Carlos' shoulder as they followed him towards the door at the end of the hallway.

"I don't choose who works for my brother, Dougie," Carlos replied quietly. "It will all be over soon..."

"You don't think things are gonna be normal for you after this, do you?" snapped Ginger, working frantically to keep her voice down.

"Normal is what you make it," replied Carlos.

His reply bothered Melissa, but she remained quiet, trying to remember the things Vance had taught her. She was in survival mode, seeking a way to cooperate and keep things on an even keel until the opportunity to get out of the situation presented itself. Ginger still seemed to think that she was talking to her fiancé, but Melissa did not see Carlos, not the Carlos she knew, anymore. There was a man here who looked like him, but it wasn't the person she or Ginger knew.

Melissa realized that Ginger was not seeing that change, not yet, which made Ginger a possible liability. They were not on the same page and at the crucial moment, that could cause a problem. Ginger might hesitate and all Melissa could hear was her husband's warning, "Hesitation gets you killed."

Carlos knocked on the door and glanced anxiously about the hallway. Everything seemed quiet and that could be normal, or maybe it wasn't. With Dougie around, he had to be extra careful. He could not allow anything to happen to Dougie, nothing.

A woman opened the door, which made Carlos smile. He had heard something about her from Noel, who despised all women. In Noel's opinion, a woman lawyer was bad enough but this new woman offered all sorts of problems. He could not believe that Mister Gooden had gotten involved with her.

Noel followed the others into the room, his mind immediately going into disposal mode. There would be people in this room who would have to disappear and this woman was probably just another one on the growing list. Mister Gooden never hesitated; he hated waiting to take care of business. He would dispose of any unwanted baggage here tonight if at all possible.

***

Inspector Adams pulled away from the peephole and glanced back at Vance. He disliked lies, so he would not lie, but he would need to keep a handle on the situation. Now with his wife in the middle of things, how would Mister Tibbet react? Adams knew how he had reacted when it had been his wife. If he had been there, things would not have gone so horribly wrong, but he had not been given that chance, no one had... he had gone to work and received a call. The phone ringing still filled him with dread, he had avoided the telephone ever since.

Trying to force his thoughts back to the present, he consoled himself with the thought that it would not have made much of a difference for Iris, but he would have at least died with her. Why he had not been killed he would never know, perhaps for this moment, perhaps to finish this job, but there could never be a justifiable reason, he would never feel that way, there could never be a good enough reason, never.

"Noel and Carlos are now in the apartment," he said softly, turning to watch Vance. "They have Carlo's fiancé and your wife with them."

He watched his words sink into Vance, watching as the muscular form seemed to grow even larger.

"Melissa is in that room?" he asked softly.

"Yes, Mister Tibbet," he began, "and if we have any hope of getting her out alive..."

"We have to remain calm," finished Vance.

The Inspector took a deep breath and released it slowly. Mister Tibbet's training was kicking in; he could see it slowly taking over his functions, like a computer digesting a new software program. Vance looked up at him and nodded.

"What do you plan to do?"

"At the moment, there isn't much we can do," replied the Inspector. "When that door opens at the end of the hall, the door here will open. They will not leave this floor without us recovering the ladies and hopefully the necklace."

"They'll be armed..." began Vance.

"They will not shoot a police officer," stated the Inspector, not believing his own words.

"There is a good chance they won't," corrected Vance, "but what if they do something before hand?"

The Inspector nodded and looked at his watch.

"I ask you to give them ten minutes to complete their business and if the door does not open by that time, then we will act. If anything appears to happen before that, we'll move more quickly, but I promise you, they will not leave the floor with the two women."

Vance accepted the Inspector's words as his mind raced. What if anything happened to Melissa? To stand here and have done nothing, he would hate himself forever. No, this wasn't a movie, this was real life. He could not just go in there, guns blazing. For one thing, he did not have a gun, so he would have to kill at very close range. He would have to be in the room, have his hands on the men holding his wife. Vance had never felt so helpless in all of his life, but he knew that the Inspector was right. Move too fast, they would die, move too late, they would die. Patience was his friend now; impatience would get his wife killed. Vance clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw ached, but the Inspector was right, they would have to wait. Somehow, they would have to wait.

***

Andrew was in a wonderful place at the moment, feasting upon Becky's breasts. She was nude on the bed save for the tiniest thong he had ever laid eyes on and things were happening at a fevered pitch. Leaning back, he pulled her on top of him, keeping his attention riveted upon her hardened nipples.

"Oh baby..." she moaned, "ohhhhh baby...."

"You enjoyin' that?" he hissed happily, moving from one breast to the other.

Slowly he became aware of a noise, a low moaning wail that was becoming louder with each passing second. Andrew closed his eyes tightly and did his best to ignore it but it was definitely intruding on the mood. Not now, Ziggy, damn it man, NOT NOW! The noise kept growing louder and more ridiculous, changing from a loud moan to a noise like a cat caught in a washing machine. Opening his eyes, he could see the confused look on his date's face, caught between obvious personal enjoyment and horror at hearing what sounded like a cartoon car accident taking place in the room next door.

"It's Ziggy," he whispered, urgently pulling her face down to his and kissing her passionately.

"Is he in pain?" she asked, trying to remain in the mood as she nibbled his ear.

"No, no, nothing like that," he said, sliding his hand down her toned stomach and groping for her thong. "He's fine, just noisy..."

"He sounds horrible," Becky replied, slightly louder to be heard over the intruding noises. "He sounds like Godzilla gargling..."

"I know, but let's concentrate on us," he begged, finding the tiny string and working it quickly down her legs.

"Okay, okay," she agreed, just as anxious as he was not to lose the moment.

Andrew pulled down his pants as she slid down his chest, the sound of Godzilla gargling suddenly switching to something that sounded like a cross between an old lawnmower starting and a hyena with hiccups.

"Are you sure he's all right?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the new variation in sounds.

"Never been better," smiled Andrew, inwardly cursing Ziggy with all his might.

Flipping on his side, he pulled her upwards, kissing her and positioning her, easing her onto her back. As he slowly slid into her, she moaned and then jumped at a noise that sounded like a machine gun mating with a mix master.

"Good God!" she snapped.

"Yeah, baby, yeah," replied Andrew, choosing to act as if the remark had been brought on by his prowess, but knowing better.

As Andrew found his rhythm, Becky gradually returned her attention to the work of the moment, but it wasn't easy for either of them. A noise like a horse being run through a vacuum cleaner was followed quickly by the prolonged sound of a screech owl. Suddenly there erupted several violent oaths followed by a noise best described as the grunt a samurai makes when dispatching an enemy and then complete and total silence.

As the sudden silence surrounded them, both Andrew and Becky realized that in their efforts to drown out the noises Ziggy had been making, they were both making noises at a volume that neither would have ever made under normal circumstances. The problem was that since they were both shouting, neither felt it right to quiet down because that would leave the other open to embarrassment. At last they both proclaimed an extremely noisy climax and then settled down beside each other, each sheepishly eyeing the other. At last Andrew began to giggle and Becky followed suit.

"You are a wonderful and extremely noisy lover," Andrew stated playfully.

"As are you," she responded. "Let me throw my robe on and I'll get us something to drink."

"Please," replied Andrew, grabbing at his neck, "me throat is killin' me!"

Becky rose and with a delighted laugh, wrapped a short, silky robe around her, shaking her head and smiling as she exited the room. Andrew stared at the ceiling. Even the beautiful things in life Ziggy had a way of making his own!

### Chapter 23

Ginger and Melissa stumbled into the middle of the room their view blocked by Carlos as the enormous Noel sauntered casually behind them. Carlos slid to the side and seated like a king on his throne was Douglas, eyeing the little parade that had entered his suite with no apparent reaction.

Ginger's eyes took him in and stepping forward she began to speak rapidly.

"Ohhhhkay, Mister Big Shot, just what in the hell..." her voice trailed off as she looked at the woman standing behind him, her face unable to contain her astonishment. "Celia? What the hell are you doing here? Did they force you to come up here too?"

Celia laughed and shook her head, "I came here with Dougie, we're old friends, him and I. In fact, I recommended you to him. I told Dougie, if a fool is what Carlos needs; I got the perfect fool for you..."

Ginger looked from one to the other and then to Melissa, unable to form a thought.

"So this whole thing has been a plan from the beginning," said Melissa calmly, stepping up and placing a supporting hand on Ginger's arm. "A set up..."

"A plan, Mrs. Tibbet," stated Dougie, the slightest and coldest of smiles descending upon his features. "Set up sounds so...cliché. I needed for Carlos to arrange matters in New York for my businesses, but it had to appear as if he and I were, shall we say, at odds with one another. So we spread the rumor that he and I had argued and he left for New York to start his new life."

"You lied to me?" Ginger asked, turning on Carlos.

He merely chuckled and stepped closer to his brother.

"So why involve Ginger in this?" asked Melissa, working hard to contain her own anger. "She had nothing to do with whatever illegal plans you were concocting. Why drag an innocent..."

"Carlos needed a cover," stated Dougie. "Starting a new business and getting a new life meant he also needed a social life. If he went clubbing, looking for love as it were, the police would be following him everywhere, he would have never been able to accomplish anything. Also, once they got tired of following him around, they would have set him up, Mrs. Tibbet. Despite what I am sure is your inclination to think that police officers are fine, upstanding people, they have no scruples about closing an investigation by any means necessary. We needed a cover for Carlos, a way to have a social life that would leave no questions regarding where he was and what he was doing and that is where your friend came in."

Rising, Dougie casually crossed the room towards them and stopped, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"I must say that you played your part beautifully, my dear," he remarked to Ginger. Shaking his head, he continued, "You are so impossible that the police actually began to believe that Carlos had changed his ways. After all, how could any man deal with anyone like you unless he was helplessly in love?"

"What has Celia to do with this?" asked Ginger, her voice quiet and uncertain, her reality crumbling.

"I suggested you to Dougie and Carlos," replied Celia from her place behind Dougie's chair. "Dougie and I met about the time Carlos went to New York. He came to see me about one of his former employees and we...struck up a friendship, you might say." Her lustful gaze in his direction left no question as to the nature of their friendship, "When he explained that he needed a cover for his brother in New York, why, you were the perfect solution..."

"How could you do this to your own sister?" asked Melissa. "How could you..."

"Save your surprise, doctor," laughed Celia, the sound harsh to their ears. "Ginger left Jamaica, bolted as soon as she could and left me with the dual prize of Mama and Tete. One is all, "Spread your wings and fly" and the other is all "Curl up in a ball and die". Mama wanted Saint Celia and Saint Celia is what she got, it got her off my back. As for Tete, if she ain't giving advice and feeling superior, she ain't interested in you, so she got what she wanted too. None of it was what I wanted, however. When I met Dougie he was very kind to me, he understood me, saw my potential unlike anyone ever had before. He has been kind enough to offer me a very different type of life and I'm taking it for all I'm worth. I have been living very differently for quite a while now, but none of you wanted to see it and frankly, I wasn't interested in showing it to you. It's my life now, my way. Ginger always thought she knew everything about everything, Ginger was always so worldly and I was so sheltered; well doctor, Ginger don't know shit. I've seen things, I've done things..."

"Enough," snapped Douglas. He gestured at Noel with his head and Noel stepped up beside him. Melissa looked at Noel's face and could see it in his face, the calculations he was making regarding where he should dump their bodies after he had killed them.

"We will need to get rid of the two of them," stated Noel finally.

"Not just them, Noel," stated Douglas, turning to Celia and giving her a short nod.

Noel began to turn at the click, but it was already too late. The bullet entered the base of his skull and his large form dropped in a heap at Celia's feet. Ginger appeared ready to scream, but Douglas held up a restraining hand.

"No noise or you're next..."

Ginger looked from the crumpled form on the floor to her sister and back to the body. Melissa stood behind her, taking in the scene, Celia standing over the dead man with an arrogant smirk on her features, a wisp of smoke drifting up from the end of the silencer of the gun she held in her hand. Carlos and Douglas impassive, the attorney rising from her chair, her hands covering her mouth.

"Have you lost your mind?" hissed Ginger at her sister. "This is your life now? Killing people?"

Celia smirked, "You know nothing about power. This ain't nothing, I don't even feel this anymore. When I offed Astin and that girl, now that was a rush..."

"You killed those people?" asked Melissa, angry at her own surprise.

"Everyone thought it was Noel or one of the other boys, but no one would suspect little old me, would they?" smiled Celia. "Dougie is a genius. After Noel killed Robert, Ming's boyfriend, Dougie decided that Astin had to be eliminated to make sure that Carlos had his alibi."

"I don't believe in taking chances," smirked Douglas, "and with Carlos in jail, I couldn't get my mother's necklace back."

Slowly Celia raised the gun again and Ginger crumpled into a ball, dropping to the floor. The trigger clicked and there was a noise like an air machine exhaling and then another thud as a body joined Ginger on the floor. Peeking from between her fingers, she saw the form of Carlos' attorney sprawled beside her, her eyes wide in astonishment, her blouse soaked in blood. Looking up, she saw Melissa defiantly staring at her sister.

"No witnesses," stated Melissa flatly.

"Attorneys who know too much are a liability," stated Carlos calmly.

Melissa wheeled on him, "It must have been so hard for you to hide what you truly are..."

"I'm surprised doctor about how little you know about me. I've been an actor since I was a child. Survival requires certain abilities..." began Carlos.

"I know a sociopath when I see one," stated Melissa.

"Your psycho mumbo jumbo is a little too late to matter much," smirked Carlos.

Turning back on Douglas, Melissa glared at him, "You had him kill Ming but why? To show loyalty? To prove that he would do anything for you?"

"Nothing so dramatic, Mrs. Tibbet," replied Douglas. "Ming possessed something she should not have possessed, I wanted it returned, that is all."

"A necklace?" snapped Ginger, rising to her feet, trembling. "All this was for a stupid necklace? He said she gave it back!"

Douglas face descended into a hard scowl, "First off, not a stupid necklace, MY necklace. Secondly, I already said that I don't believe in taking chances. Dead, she had nothing to say and my desire for the necklace would be seen by my rivals as a weakness. Sentimentality in my business, Mrs. Tibbet, is not an asset..."

"A cheap, flimsy necklace was worth the lives..." began Melissa.

Douglas stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face.

"That cheap necklace was all my mother left me," growled Douglas. "It was the only thing I owned, the only legacy I had!"

"What about your brother?" asked Melissa, fighting against the pain and tears she felt rising in her eyes. "He wasn't your mother's legacy to you, was he? He was just a tool you could use to accomplish your ends. What did your mother leave him?"

"She left Carlos me," snapped Douglas. "I took care of him, fed him, clothed him, made him what he is..."

"Good job on that," sneered Ginger, rising up slowly beside her friend. "You made him a killer, a heartless, mindless killer!"

"He had no legacy from your mother," taunted Melissa. "No, he had no claim on the one real thing your mother left the two of you, the necklace..."

"It wasn't his necklace it was mine! He had no right to give my necklace to anyone," snapped Douglas, "especially to his whore girlfriend..."

"I got it back, Dougie," stated Carlos repentantly. "I didn't know..."

"You should have known," hissed Douglas. He took a moment and his features grew softer, "We've been through this, Carlos. Now give me the necklace."

Carlos reached into his pocket and produced the necklace, handing it proudly to Douglas, who held it aloft with a smile. Turning from his brother, he smiled at Celia.

"Soon you'll be able to finish your work..."

Celia raised her gun with a satisfied air and smirked at the two women.

***

Nestor opened the door to the hallway and peered out toward Douglas Gooden's door. Everything seemed to be quiet, so after a moment, he stepped into the hallway and headed towards the door at the opposite end of the hall. It was then that he heard it, a thump as if something heavy had fallen to the floor. Nestor wheeled towards Gooden's door. What the hell...

For a moment, indecision gripped him and then he continued down the hall towards Gooden's suite. Reaching the door, he hesitated, what to do? Easing back, he saw a small room to his left, an ice machine sitting silently within its tight confines. Nestor eased back into the room and pulled his service revolver. He seldom carried it with him, was in truth more nervous about shooting himself than using it on any criminal. He jumped as he heard what sounded like another thump, lighter than the first. What to do? The Inspector was down the hall, but they had agreed not to use radios, too bulky, too hard to conceal. He had taken a chance with the gun, a necessary risk, but there was no way to conceal...

Getting beside the ice machine, he tried to listen. What was going on in there? What was the Inspector thinking? Peeking out towards the suite that held the Inspector, he saw no motion, no movement. He had to have seen me, he has to know that I'm in here and that something isn't quite right. Crouching down, he set himself ready to move, towards what and for what reason, he was not sure, but he was certain, something was going to happen here, something not good.

***

Adams peered through the peephole, his mind focusing like a laser on all that Nestor was doing. Something had happened; the question was what to do to support Nestor's actions. Without a way to communicate, he had to both rely upon and read Nestor's reactions. Making it more difficult was the large form standing behind him trying to contain his anxiety.

Adams empathized, but did his best not to think too much about it. Remembering his wife now, remembering that horrible day could compromise his reactions and if ever he needed a clear thought process it was now. Memories were better buried until they could be examined and mourned in private.

Allowing himself a glance back at the hulking man, he forced himself to look back through the peephole. He understood the pain, the fear, the anger, but there could be no hesitation now, no second thoughts. There would be plenty of time for remorse later. He thought of his wife despite himself. Yes, there was a whole lifetime for remorse.

Vance stood staring at the back of the Inspector's head. Melissa was only down the hall, he told himself. She had been further from him than that millions of times before and he had not panicked. She had been safe, he had not worried, he would not worry now. Every day he went to work and Melissa was further than a hallway away and he had never worried about her safety. Melissa was safe, he told himself and when the moment came when they were reunited, she would be safer still. He would never allow her to get into a predicament like this again and he would kill anyone who ever tried to kill her, ever annoyed her, ever made her slightly unhappy.

No, no, killing everyone would not be a good idea. Don't think of killing massive amounts of people, it's a distraction. Not now, now you need to focus, his mind screamed. Remember your training, remember all that you know, the least distraction could make the crucial difference. Focus, for the love of your life, focus and don't let go, not for a moment, not for a second.

***

Becky returned to the bedroom and handed Andrew his drink. Even in his happy, post-cloital state he was aware enough to tell that she was upset. Andrew leaned back, took a sip of his drink and spoke softly.

"What is it, me dear?" he asked softly. "You seem upset. Did I do..."

"Oh, no," she smiled, "you were great. It's just...well when I was getting the drinks..."

Andrew looked at her closely, obviously not following her train of thought.

"What, what is it?"

Becky frowned, unsure of how to proceed, "It's just, well, I saw your friend...I mean, I didn't mean too...it wasn't like I was looking...."

"Oh God..." moaned Andrew, leaning back. "You saw Ziggy... in the flesh?"

"If that means nude, yes," she replied, a distressed look overtaking her features.

"Oh God," repeated Andrew. "Kind of harsh full on sober, I know..."

"He's a bit...disproportionate, isn't he?" she asked.

"Well he's got the face of a donkey," stated Andrew reasonably, "kind of makes sense that he got some other parts too..."

"It's like a train wreck," she stated softly. "I mean I wanted to look away, I really did..."

"It's frightening, I understand," stated Andrew, putting a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. "You should try being his roommate. I've seen things that'd scare the devil himself..."

Becky shuddered and took a quick gulp of her drink.

"I just hope in time to forget what I saw..."

"Drink, my girl, drink," advised Andrew softly. "Trust me; it helps..."

### Chapter 24

"How do you plan of disposing of..." Carlos casually waved the gun he had procured from the dead Noel over the prone forms on the floor.

"I'm not," replied Douglas. "The maid will find them tomorrow morning and by then, we will be long gone..."

Carlos nodded.

"And us?" asked Melissa flatly.

"You, Mrs. Tibbet, might serve another purpose," stated Douglas, stepping over Noel and heading towards one of the bedrooms.

Ginger grasped Melissa arm and whispered urgently, "What do you think that sick bastard is talking about?"

"Just stay calm," replied Melissa. "Just remember, you're going to get through this..."

"For a time," remarked Carlos with a smirk.

"How can you do this to us?" asked Ginger, her voice rising, her sense of betrayal palpable.

"Shut up," replied Carlos casually.

Ginger's eyes widened as he advanced on her.

"I'm so tired of your non-stop bitching, your opinions about everything, your stupid, STUPID opinions..." he raised the gun as if to strike her with it, but Ginger did not flinch, staring at him with a new found hatred.

"Soon enough," stated Douglas from somewhere behind them, "but not now."

Carlos brought his arm back down to his side.

"It won't do to mark her noticeably yet," stated Douglas, coming up beside Melissa and gesturing towards Ginger. "We need them as shields, in case anyone should find these two," he said, pointing at the corpses. "Do you like flying, Mrs. Tibbet?"

Melissa turned, glaring at him, "If it takes me away from you..."

"Oh, it will, eventually," smiled Douglas. "We'll start the flight together but unfortunately for you, before it's over, you and I will be far, far apart." Melissa showed no fear as Douglas gestured towards Celia, "Celia will be walking behind you ladies, so remember, say nothing and keep moving; onto the elevator, off of the elevator, across the basement parking lot and into the car. Once we get downstairs, my men will have you covered as well, so do not even thinking of making any sort of move, do you understand me?"

"Don't worry, my brother, we will have them covered," smirked Carlos.

Douglas pulled the necklace from his pocket and eyed it once again, "I appreciate you getting this back, Carlos, I knew ultimately you wouldn't disappoint me." Pocketing the necklace he turned back towards Celia, "Still, my brother, I had to wait eight years for you to set things right and my patience with you ended seven years ago. Now, my dear..."

Celia raised the gun and the trigger clicked, the sound of the silencer exhaling whispering in Melissa's ear. Melissa jumped, bumping backwards into Ginger. Ginger grasped her protectively to her chest, her eyes wide as she watched Carlos slump to the ground. He swayed for a moment on his knees and then pitched forward, face down upon the carpet. Ginger released Melissa, staring down at him as the red stain beneath him grew.

"Your own brother...you killed your own brother?" asked Melissa, unable to comprehend what she had just seen.

"He had served his purpose," grimaced Douglas. "What was mine is mine again and I have no intention of sharing it with anyone, especially with someone so careless. This ties up the situation nicely; I have Carlos' contacts without the bother of having to keep him in line. When my new colleagues learn what has become of him, they will realize that I don't play games with anyone. Besides, the police will now have their murderer and their idea of justice for Ming and her boyfriend will be served."

For a moment, Ginger hovered above Carlo's body, lost in emotions she could barely understand. She had been willing to give her life to him and he had been all too willing to take hers away. Her rage boiling, she drew back her foot and kicked his body as hard as she could.

"Enough fun," stated Douglas flatly. "Remember what I said, not a move."

***

Inspector Adams tensed as the door to Douglas Gooden's suite swung open. Ginger and Melissa stepped out into the hall, followed by Douglas Gooden and a woman he did not recognize. The Inspector reacted, throwing the door open and taking a step out into the hall. Vance was instantly behind him, Christopher and Katrina peering out the door behind them. Douglas looked up and frowned.

"Mister Gooden," yelled the Inspector suddenly, "we need to speak."

"If you wish to speak to me, Inspector," smiled Douglas as he advanced towards the elevators, "contact my attorney."

Melissa looked up but kept in step with Ginger, her eyes relaying her joy at seeing Vance. Would it be the last time? Would she never get to tell him...

"VANCE, I LOVE YOU!" she blurted out.

Vance stared into her eyes, mouthing the words back, still too far away to protect her, every step seeming to move him further from her rather than closer. A few more feet, a few more...

"Keep moving," hissed Celia, jabbing Melissa in the back with her gun.

Nestor saw the gun, saw the entire situation pass before his doorway. Sliding out from behind the ice machine, he stepped out into the hallway, his gun drawn.

"DROP THE GUN!" he snapped.

Celia twisted towards him and fired, a chunk of the wall near Nestor's head exploding. In reaction, Nestor dove to the floor as chaos erupted.

Ginger screamed as Melissa dragged her to the ground. Douglas threw himself against the wall near the elevator doors, slapping the button with one hand and reaching for the gun he always carried in a shoulder holster with the other.

Adams, unarmed, surged towards Douglas as Celia turned back and fired at him, but her aim was off and the wall between the two men exploded a split second before they came together.

Exploding like a shot from a cannon, Vance thundered down the hall, throwing himself on top of Melissa and Ginger. Sliding his feet beneath him, he pushed them closer to the wall opposite the elevator as Nestor and Celia exchanged shots again, placing himself between the women and the carnage erupting around them and nudging them towards the closest suite door. Ginger's screams punctuated the air as the gunfire continued. Celia fired again, striking Nestor in the leg as he lurched back towards the door near the ice machine seeking cover. Douglas' gun went off as he and the Inspector continued to grapple. Celia turned back towards the two men, seeking out a clear shot.

Vance glanced in her direction, seeking a way to help Adams, but too far now to get to Celia and still protect the two women. To his surprise, he saw the door closest to them open slightly and a pair of eyes peering out into the hallway. In one swift and powerful motion, Vance grabbed both women by the back of their dresses and bulldozed his way through the door, sending it twisting off its hinges.

Melissa landed roughly on the carpet and covered her head as the sound of gunfire erupted once again from the hallway. Forcing herself through her fear, she twisted on the floor, desperately seeking to locate Vance. He was tangled up with the door to the left of the doorway while to the right Ginger was sprawled on top of a man who was frantically twisting to get out from under her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a young woman in a pair of panties with what appeared to be a blouse gripped tightly to her bare chest screaming. Suddenly a large, bare-chested man with dreadlocks pulled the girl to the floor next to Melissa.

Crouching next to Melissa, he called out to everyone, "For God's sake, stay down!"

"VANCE!" yelled Melissa as she saw her husband rise and throw himself out the door.

She tried to rise but Andrew grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

"Stay down, damn it, that's gunfire out there!"

Ginger's scream reached a new crescendo as the gunfire continued in the hallway, and she balled herself up against the wall. She was looking at the man she had finally managed to untangle herself from and to Melissa's surprise the man was very dark, very ugly and completely nude. At first she thought he was carrying a large, black pipe in his hands until she realized that the pipe was attached to him.

"Good God in Heaven," screamed Ginger. "Put that damn thing away!"

Ziggy scrambled back towards the couch and found a pillow to hide himself behind.

"When I get hold of your husband I'm gonna kill him!" screamed Ginger at Melissa as she covered her head with her hands and propelling herself away from the doorway via her heels and buttocks. "I can't believe he threw me on top of a naked elephant man!"

Suddenly, the gunfire stopped. After the chaos of the last minute, the sudden silence was even more frightening and oppressive than the walk to the elevator or the threat of death moments before had been. Melissa raised herself onto her hands and knees and together with Andrew crawled towards the opening where the door had been. Cautiously, she peered out into the hallway.

Vance was kneeling beside the Inspector who lay prone on the floor, the two talking in a low whisper. At the Inspector's feet, Douglas Gooden sat with his back against the wall between the two elevators just beneath the buttons that operated them. He stared at Melissa, his face impassive as if waiting to order room service. A large hole in his chest was marked by a black circle and a widening of a red stain. Glancing to her left, Melissa saw Celia's limp body in the middle of the hallway. Her head was turned towards Melissa, the arrogant smirk still on her face, the top left side of her head missing, blood and brain saturating her hair and the carpet beneath her. Behind her, Nestor sat against the wall, holding his leg and swearing.

Raising herself up, Melissa crossed to Vance and knelt beside him as he spoke to the Inspector. Adams' complexion was waxy, his breathing shallow. A large blood stain was spread across his abdomen and it was growing with each passing second.

"It's so good, Mister Tibbet," he said hoarsely. "No remorse for you, see, she's alive..."

"Hang in there," urged Vance. "The ambulance is on its way..."

The Inspector smiled, he knew better, it was all so clear now, everything was so clear now.

"It is good, Mister Tibbet," he replied. "No remorse for you, no more remorse for me. I'm going to see her again," he smiled, "see her again..."

Melissa began to cry as the light left Adams' eyes. Christopher drew closer and spoke softly in the tone one used for Church.

"The ambulance is on its way, it will be here shortly..."

Vance looked up and shook his head. Turning, he pulled Melissa down to him and held her in his arms as tightly as he could as he also began to cry.

### Chapter 25

Christopher hung up the phone with an air of relief and leaned back in his chair. Katarina, seated across from him, eyed him anxiously.

"Well?" she asked softly.

"The director is pleased with my actions," smiled Christopher, just saying the words making him feel as though he were being released from beneath an enormous weight. "He believes I acted appropriately given the circumstances. He even used the word heroic..."

Katarina smiled and gliding out of the chair, moved smoothly around the desk and perched upon the arm of Christopher's chair. To Christopher's surprise, she leaned over him and kissed him gently upon the forehead.

"I agree with the director," she stated firmly. "You were very much hero. The way you acted and how you keep me out of harm's way when there is all the shooting, I am very proud of you."

Christopher could not help but smile, "Why thank you my dear..."

Looking down at him, she squinted adorably, "And now we have to talk too, Mister Christopher." He looked up, not comprehending. "This thing between us, it is time for you to be a hero in this too. You cannot spend your life talking to me only about the hotel and looking at my backside and sighing, it is not honest. If you like me, you buy me dinner and we talk and maybe become lovers, but this no do nothing is no good no more, you understand?"

Christopher smiled, "Yes."

Rolling her eyes she continued, "And I know you don't want the staff to know you like me because then they might think bad of you, so we must make excuses and meet away from the hotel. If you want, you take me to dinner tonight at El Caribe on other side of the island. The food is terrible and no one goes there..."

"If the food is terrible why do you want to go there?" he asked.

She rose and headed towards the door, "So that we can finally be alone. What do I care about the food, silly ass, I care about you. I meet you there at seven o'clock, wear your beige suit, I like you in that and bring me some flowers. I'm off in an hour and I have a lot to do, so get a good look at my ass now, you won't see it again until tonight." She peered over her shoulder and offered him a seductive smile as she wiggled out of the room for him.

Christopher smiled and picked up the phone, dialing quickly.

"Hello, Edgar? It's Christopher, I want to order two dozen roses...no, on second thought, make it four dozen..."

***

Nestor eased down into his chair and gently maneuvered his crutches to lean against his desk. The doctor had said that he would be fine, the femur was cracked, but the wound had been clean and the bone would heal. Ingrid peeked in at the door and he offered her an almost embarrassed smile.

"Nestor, what are you doing here?" she asked quietly.

"Doctor tells me it'll be a few months before I'm ready to patrol again," he stated with a shrug. "I just came to get a few things to keep me company while I'm resting."

Ingrid was a tall, thin, light skinned woman in her mid fifties. Her large brown eyes were slightly obscured by thick glasses and she stood in the doorway, unsure if she should was intruding or not.

"I heard they offered to make you an Inspector," she said quietly. "Congratulations..."

Nestor smiled and leaned back, "I declined it, Ingrid. The first real case I had in years and I end up like this," he said, pointing towards his leg. "Let the young ones handle the criminals, I'll stick to the beach."

Ingrid smiled, relieved to hear it, "I'm glad, Nestor. Things wouldn't be the same here without you."

He looked thoughtfully down at the desk, "Besides, I couldn't fill the Inspector's shoes. I ain't the right type. I seen what it does to a man and I'm not willin' to do it. Adams gave a lot, he was a damn good man, but I don't want to give that much..."

Ingrid nodded, "I understand Nestor. I'll miss him, he was a great man."

"More than that," replied Nestor thoughtfully, "he was a good man. Ain't a lot of them floating around..."

Ingrid smiled and then slowly retreated out the doorway as she saw Nestor settling into his thoughts. It was an hour or so before she heard him stomp out of the office on his crutches. If she had not known him so well, it would have been difficult to have seen that he had been crying.

***

Andrew stood beside Becky and smiled, "So you think that you'll be coming back soon?"

Becky leaned against him, "As soon as I've got some time, I'll be back. You said you'd come and visit..."

"I never been to America," he laughed. "I can't wait..."

Glancing over at her friend, she gave him a passionate kiss and then leaned down and picked up her luggage.

"Brianna's upset that Ziggy didn't come down to see us off," she murmured.

"Ziggy hates good-byes," explained Andrew, knowing better. Ziggy, ugly as he was, was the king of the one night stand. He supposed it made sense, after the alcohol wore off and the daylight came in, Ziggy wasn't the most attractive reason to go on a second date. "Don't let it worry her. I'll see you soon?"

"You got my number," she laughed. "Don't forget to call me!"

"Call ME as soon as you get off the plane," smiled Andrew. "I need to know that my girl is safe."

Becky smiled, "Your girl, I like that..."

He kissed her again, "Me too."

He watched her sauntered through the gate and with a little wave, she was gone. Somehow it was different this time. Perhaps almost getting killed brought a couple closer together, put things in perspective. Maybe he was just being romantic. Either way, he'd call her, something he almost never did...

***

Ginger stood next to her mother and looked out over the tarmac at the plane headed back to Jamaica. Vance and Melissa and Tete stood off at a respectful distance, trying not to intrude on them. Ginger noted her mother's appearance; it was as if the old woman had aged twenty years in just the last few hours. She wore a dark skirt suit that seemed two sizes too big suddenly, as if she were shrinking right before Ginger's eyes. Ginger shook her head, there was nothing she could say, nothing she could do...

"They call a child who loses his parents an orphan," stated her mother quietly, "and a man who loses his wife a widower and a woman who loses her man a widow, but there ain't no word for a parent who loses a child 'cause there ain't no one word that can contain this horror and pain."

"I know, Mama," said Ginger quietly, "I know..."

"I never envied your father dying first before," her mother continued. "I thought of how he missed it all, how he missed you two growin' up, how he would miss everything..." her thoughts seemed to fade in the morning sun. She took a shuddering breath, "He was smart to die first..."

Tete came forward and placed an arm around her sister's shoulders, "It's time to get on board."

Mama nodded, her eyes filling with tears as Ginger leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'll be home in a few weeks Mama," she said softly, hugging her to her. "Just got to clear up some things in New York and then I'll be back for a visit."

"I understand," said her mother, choking back a sob, "I know child. Just be careful..."

"I will, Mama, I will," she replied.

She watched as Tete and Mama made their way across the tarmac to the little plane, watched as her mother slowly took the stairs and entered the plane. She never looked back.

At the top of the stairs, Tete turned and offered her a subdued wave. She looked out over the field as if searching for something and then, she was gone.

Vance and Melissa came up behind Ginger, Melissa releasing Vance's hand and putting her arm around her friend.

"I had hoped we didn't have to tell her about Celia," said Ginger softly, watching the plane taxi down the runway. "I was hoping the police could keep it from her, but there was too much they needed to know..."

"She'd have read it in the papers, Ginger," stated Melissa, "it wasn't your fault. You did your best to protect her."

Ginger shook her head, "Should have never said yes when he asked me to marry him. All this for what? I thought I knew that man and now...now I don't know nothing..."

Vance came up behind the two and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. Together the three of them watched as the plane gently floated off of the ground and slowly, majestically soared into the calm, blue skies.

***

I would like to thank you for reading "Sibling Rivalry" the second sequel in the "Remembering" series. I hope that you have enjoyed this novel and I invite you to let me know what you thought of it. Please feel free to drop me a line via email at mailto:maczazski@hotmail.com. Thanks again for choosing "Sibling Rivalry"; I hope that you will take the opportunity to read some of my other work and I look forward to hearing from you!

