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“That’s putting it mildly!” was my mother’s reply.
“You might say that,” Thaddeus agreed.
“That sounds like there’s a story involved.”
“And then some,” I mumbled, shaking my head.
“Oh, you’ll have to tell me all about it once we’re underway. My mates and I couldn’t help but notice all the police in the area. We saw the ambulances come through a little while ago. Let me take that, Mrs. Wilson.”
Cedric carefully folded Laurel’s wheelchair and stowed it in the rear of the van. Thaddeus helped her into the middle seat and, once she was comfortable, he took the spot next to her.
Kenny and I settled into the bench seat in back. He threw an arm around my shoulder companionably. “I don’t know about you, babe, but I’m exhausted.”
“I am too,” I admitted with a groan. “If only I could catch up on some sleep.”
Cedric slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He glanced over his shoulder and gave us a big grin. “Are you folks ready? Let’s go have some fun!”
Thaddeus had hired Cedric to drive us around the island, paying extra for the opportunity to customize the trip through the Western parishes of Bermuda. It was worth every pretty penny. Easing out into traffic, our tour guide flawlessly zipped around mopeds and stray pedestrians, turning onto Maritime Lane for a quick loop around the village before we hit the main road that would take us to Ireland Island and beyond. As he drove, Cedric tried to discern our interests. He was thrilled when he learned that his two older passengers were birdwatchers.
“This is a great place for it,” he told them. “Have you seen the Bermuda longtails?”
“I have,” Laurel confirmed, “but I’ve always been curious about the claim that they never land on shore.”
“That’s partly true. They’re open ocean birds that only come in when it’s time to breed. The female lays a single egg in a cavity in the cliffs every summer and....”
They got into a lengthy discussion of the local variety of white-tailed tropicbirds. Cedric knew a lot about the bird’s favored habitat and nesting habits. “If you take the Sea Express ferry into Hamilton or a glass-bottom boat ride out to the shipwreck, you’re likely to spot them flying near the shore. There’s no doubt as to what they are when you see them. Those long tail feathers are distinctive.”
Here and there, Cedric pointed out the different sights in a singsong patter that was quick-paced, but soothing. I found myself relaxing as I watched the vivid Bermuda landscape fly by. At times, the narrow road could almost have doubled as a roller coaster ride, with hair-raising turns and enough ups and downs to merit a motion sickness tablet. It took a while to get used to it, especially when we were almost squeezed off the road by a pink Bermuda bus that came around the corner unexpectedly. Cedric waved.
“There’s my buddy, Dave. He competed in an international bus drivers’ contest last year. He came in fifth. That’s not too shabby.”
“Indeed,” Thaddeus agreed.
“So, tell me about your adventures on the high seas.” Cedric rounded a particularly sharp curve with skill that born of many years of practice. “How bad was it?”
“It was awful,” said the still-rattled Laurel. “Someone killed a man and threw him over a balcony. I was just sitting there, looking out at the ocean....”
Our tour guide let out a yelp of commiseration for my mother’s unfortunate experience.
“Oh dear, you must have been terrified.”
“Well, I was, but it wasn’t nearly as bad for me as it was for the poor man who was stabbed. I hate to think there is a cold-blooded killer on the ship!” She gave a little shiver at the memory. “I’m so glad the FBI has arrived.”
“It’s a most unusual case,” Thaddeus added. “If Laurel hadn’t seen him get tossed overboard, no one would have ever known what really happened. When they retrieved the deceased....”
We left them to the task of telling the tale of George Delaney’s murder to Cedric. The three of them had a great time speculating about the culprit. Kenny and I took advantage of this to shut our eyes and rest. Those twenty or so minutes helped. By the time we got to Boaz Island, I found my second wind. Kenny pulled himself together a short time later, when we crossed Watford Bridge.
Along the route, our driver pointed out the grand homes of the rich and famous island residents, the sites of historic battles, and even some of the spots where infamous scandals involving eccentric Bermudians took place. By the time we arrived at Gibbs Hill Lighthouse, Laurel and he were old friends.
“You three should go ahead and explore,” my mother encouraged us. “I’ll be fine here.”
“I don’t mind skipping it,” Thaddeus started to say, but she cut him off.
“Cedric will keep me company. Take some photos, so I can see what I missed.”
They stayed in the van while Thaddeus, Kenny, and I took the walking tour up to the massive seafarer’s beacon, which was constructed of cast iron. It was hard not to be awed while standing beside the unique lighthouse. I snapped several candid shots with my trusty camera.
“Thaddeus, can you stand over there?” I asked. “This one is for Laurel.”
“Certainly. Make sure you get my good side, Scarlet.” He struck a comical pose.
“I wasn’t aware you had a bad one,” I laughed, checking the tiny screen to see the result. “This is a keeper. Maybe I’ll surprise Laurel and get it framed.”
“And now let me do the same for you two. Say ‘cheese’!” he instructed us. Kenny and I smiled for the camera. “Nice!”
Not long after we resumed our tour, we stopped at Henry VIII for lunch. Thaddeus invited Cedric to join us.
“I can’t decide between the grouper sandwich and Rhonda’s Bermuda rock fish,” the older man informed us. “They both look good.”
“I’m going with Henry’s chicken curry,” Kenny said, putting down his menu. “And a tall glass of iced tea.”
“Well,” Laurel said, looking over at Cedric, “I think I’d like to sample the local fare. Do you have any recommendations of a quintessential dish?”
“You can’t go wrong with the fish chowder,” he laughed. “It has a little touch of rum and sherry peppers.”
“Oh, that does sound good!” my mother exclaimed. “I’m glad I asked. I think I’ll have that and a salad.”
“I’ll have the same.” I put my menu on the table and took a swig of water. “When in Rome....”
We lingered over our meal while we talked about the island way of life. As a man who had spent most of his life here, save for a few years in Canada when he attended McGill University, Cedric acknowledged an occasional frustration with tourists who didn’t understand the cost of living in Bermuda.
“We must import almost all of our food, from the milk to the meat. Most of the farms here provide only a small portion of our fresh produce. It’s never enough to feed everyone.”
“I’ll bet the gas prices are high here,” I remarked. “Is that why tourists can’t rent cars?”
“That and the fact that our roads are difficult even for our residents to navigate. The curves can be dangerous. And at certain times of the day, traffic is crazy.”
On the way back to the ship, he drove us through the “real Bermuda”, where colorful flowers in window boxes and postage stamp-sized gardens added to the charm of pastel cottages that hugged the coastline. Tiny farm stands, offering fruits, vegetables, and eggs, popped up in the most unexpected places. I remarked on the vines along the fences were heavy with lush purple passion flowers.
“Those big blossoms will soon turn to delicious fruit. And over there, you can see our bay grape trees,” Cedric told us. “They thrive in Bermuda because of a high tolerance for salt.”
Occasionally, we passed what I thought were exotic palms with unusual fronds. These turned out to be banana and pawpaw trees.
“Pawpaw trees?” That was a new one on me, and coming from a family that prized trees above all else, I suddenly felt out of the loop.
“Oh, goodness!” my mother exclaimed. “I haven’t seen one of those trees since I was a girl. My grandmother in New Jersey used to make paw paw jam in the fall. That was delicious on freshly baked bread. They’re rather like an American version of a papaya, Scarlet.”
Cedric knew all the scenic spots; we took advantage of the opportunities to snap some group photos, trading places to make sure everyone got into the act. He even took us to his favorite moongate in a private garden in Paget. “It’s good luck to kiss under one.”
By the time we got back to Dockyard Terrace, it was well after two. We all climbed out of the minibus, satisfied by our off-the-beaten-path adventure. Cedric made sure Laurel was safely in her motorized wheelchair before moving on to shake hands with Thaddeus and thank him for his business. He reminded Kenny to bring his golf clubs on the next trip, because Cedric’s brother, Everett, worked in the pro shop at the Port Royal course and could arrange for him to play eighteen holes. At last our tour guide stood before me.
“Thanks for the tour, Cedric. I had a lovely time.” I offered my hand, which he took in both of his.
“Your mother tells me you have a knack for finding trouble. I hope you get home safely and in one piece.”
“Oh, I will,” I laughed.
“Don’t make her worry too much,” he instructed me good-naturedly. “She has much better things to do with her time. Feel free to call me next time you’re in Bermuda. I’ve got some more great places to show all of you.”
“Oh, I hope there is a next time,” I sighed.
“There will be. Bermuda suits you,” he laughed, tossing a hand up into the air and wagging it as he strode back to his minivan.
On our way back to King’s Wharf, we passed chattering children, souvenirs in hand, and exhausted adults, whose wallets were no doubt much lighter after a day of sightseeing. Some of the cruise ship passengers returned with sunburned faces after snorkeling in the bay or spending the afternoon at Horseshoe Bay Beach, bathing in the turquoise waters.
“I’m definitely having a nap,” I told the group as we climbed the gangway, “even if it’s just an hour or so.”
“I’ll second that motion.” Kenny’s eyelids were red-rimmed. “But I warn you that I’ll probably conk out for longer than that.”
“Gee, I was kind of hoping to get a look at the local sights. Laurel, are you up for a ride on the free shuttle?” Thaddeus looked at my mother hopefully. “I heard the entire route takes about half an hour to complete and lets you get a good look at the village.”
“Actually, that sounds like fun. Are you sure you two don’t want to come along with us?”
My exhaustion was so overwhelming that I wasn’t in the least bit tempted. When I looked at Kenny, I could see he felt the same. “No, no. Off you go. Have fun.”
“I have to take some medications, Thaddeus. Can I have a few minutes?” my mother asked her escort as we all stepped inside.
“Take all the time you need, my dear. I’ll check on the state of the world while you do.” He started towards the connecting door, but Kenny stopped him.
“If it’s okay with you, Scarlet and I can flop in the other stateroom. That way, you two won’t have to tiptoe around or whisper,” Kenny suggested.
“That’s a smart idea,” the doctor decided. “Will you join us for dinner later?”
“We will,” I promised him, trying to hide a yawn. I kept feeling like there was something I had forgotten. And then it hit me. “Heavens to Betsy, we promised to visit Kathleen in the hospital. How can we do that and go to dinner?”
Kenny held up a hand ceremoniously. “Not to worry. I have a plan. We can all take the ferry over to Hamilton. Scarlet and I can make a brief stop at the hospital to see Kathleen while you two enjoy the sights on Front Street, and then we’ll rendezvous for dinner. Do you two mind being on your own for a while?”
I glanced up in time to see Thaddeus and my mother exchange a look. No, they don’t mind being on their own. In fact, they’re so comfortable with each other, they seem almost glad we’re so involved with other things.
Once we were in his stateroom, Kenny offered me the chance to choose which bed I wanted while he drew the blinds. I settled on the one farthest from the door. A few rays of artificial light crept into the room through the bow window overlooking the Royal Promenade. I didn’t mind. I was already drifting off to sleep. I heard him groan as he kicked off his shoes and lay down.
Just after four, I heard a door close in the connecting cabin. I was surprised that Laurel and Thaddeus were back so soon. Perhaps my mother had found it all a little too taxing on her and wanted a little lie-down before we went out for the evening. Still groggy, I turned over and gave in to my fatigue. I just needed a little more sleep and I’d be more like my old self.
The next time I rolled onto my side and looked at the clock, it was twenty to five. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see Kenny was still snoozing. If I hurried, I had just enough time to take a very quick shower before we had to leave.
Crossing the room, I opened the connecting door, expecting to see Laurel lying down and Thaddeus watching TV. Instead, I entered a scene of complete chaos.
“What...the...hell?” I sputtered helplessly, stunned by what I saw. The room looked like a hurricane had blown through it. Every drawer was open, the contents disgorged. There were newspapers strewn all over the carpeted floor, along with my mother’s guide books. Our luggage had been thrown on the beds and the linings were shredded, no doubt by yet another fisherman’s Swiss Army knife. Somebody was desperate. Was he desperate enough to kill again?
I was about to call Kenny back to consciousness when a thought struck me. The next murder, the likely reason why George Delaney was brutally killed, was supposed to take place when the Liberty of the Seas left Bermuda tomorrow evening. If this incursion into our stateroom was related, perhaps it offered us a clue or two we might follow.
I tried to recall the details of the conversation that George recorded. The unseen woman had wanted her male companion to use a sedative on their intended victim, but he had balked, saying it would be discovered during an autopsy. They admitted this wasn’t the first time they had tried to kill her. The victim had received bruises because she fought back, and as a result, they had almost gotten caught because the sister was concerned enough to ask questions. But the killer believed he could control the sister.
It doesn’t sound like these two are relatives of the intended victim. Could they somehow be employed by the victim or the sister in some capacity? Think, Scarlet. They could be caregivers, conservators, or counselors. The victim is probably elderly, incapacitated in some way. She might have had a stroke. Or perhaps she’s suffering from some other devastating illness, something that prevents her from speaking for herself. That could be anything from dementia to Lou Gehrig’s disease, except I had my doubts that someone so ill would be allowed to sail on the Liberty of the Seas. It’s too much of a health risk, I decided. If she needed to be evacuated to a hospital during the cruise, it would cost a small fortune to hire an air ambulance.
I let my eyes wander over the debacle in my stateroom, even as my brain worked on the equation. I was missing something here. What if we could we identify the possible victim based on that conversation? There has to be a way.
Over and over again, I tried to rework the puzzle. What did the killer and his accomplice hope to gain from the death of the victim? Did they want money? Did they need access to her estate? Perhaps they already had that and had looted it. In that case, they would have needed to cover up the losses.
Maybe it would be better to concentrate on the murders of George Delaney and Anson Reddy. Would that be the motive for killing two strangers? But what if only one man was actually a stranger? Maybe the killer and his accomplice already knew Anson Reddy.
“Crap!” Kenny stood in the doorway behind me, dismayed. “This is unbelievable, Scarlet.”