South Seas Shenanigans Page 9

  “It’s true that the FBI can’t just simply step into another country’s investigation. But the FBI may assist local authorities in cases like kidnapping, hostage taking and terrorism.”

  “None of which happened here.”

  “And,” he drew the word out. “When there is a request from a host country where a crime occurs against a U.S. citizen.”

  “Oh,” I said. “You could have just said that from the beginning.”

  “I could have, but just like you want me to know about your work, I want you to know all about my work too. I want us to know everything about each other.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Even though we’d stayed up practically all night, I was up early to meet Bay before he left. He stopped by my bure, then we picked up Miss Vivee and Mac and headed to the Restaurant Complex for breakfast.

  “So what have you all been doing?” Bay asked. His mouth full of warm bread.

  “Miss Vivee and Mac went snorkeling,” I said.

  “Snorkeling,” Bay almost choked on the lump of food in his mouth. “Grandmother can’t swim.”

  “Yes she can,” I said and looked over at Miss Vivee who had a sheepish look on her face.

  “Are you trying to kill my grandmother?” Bay asked and laughed.

  “N-No!” I said. “I didn’t know.” I shook my head. “I’m not supposed to keep an eye on them. I wouldn’t have even known not to let them go.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” Miss Vivee said.

  Don’t I know it . . .

  “And we did not go snorkeling,” she said.

  “Yes you did,” I said. My face contorted, I couldn’t believe what she was saying.

  Had I just imagined it when I was in pain?

  “No we didn’t,” Miss Vivee said. “I can’t swim and Mac has a bad hip.”

  “Oh my goodness,” I said. “You were dressed in wetsuits and had flippers and everything.”

  “That part is true,” Miss Vivee said and took a sip of coffee.

  “So what did you do?” I asked.

  “We waded in over the coral reefs,” Mac said. “Put on our goggles and immersed our faces into the water.”

  “That’s all?” I said.

  “Well, if I can’t swim, Missy, what else could we have done?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “And speaking of not being able to swim,” Miss Vivee said. “Have you heard what people are saying about Madda Crawford?”

  “People or birdies?” I asked Miss Vivee.

  “People,” Mac assured me. He must’ve known what she was going to say, even before she said it.

  “Karma,” Miss Vivee said.

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “That’s what they’re saying about Madda. That it was karma that brought about her death. All the things she did to people. Did you tell Bay what happened to you?”

  “Yes,” I said and looked over at Bay. “I did.”

  “What?” he asked seemingly unsure of what I meant.

  “The reaction I had to that plant in my room.”

  “You still have it?” Miss Vivee asked. “Why didn’t you throw it out?”

  “I don’t know.” I hunched my shoulder.

  “Well, don’t ask me again to help you if you’re foolish enough to get it on you.”

  I don’t remember help any you gave me.

  “Okay. I won’t,” I said.

  “Morning, y’all,” It was Sassy. She had on a yellow halter dress that criss-crossed in the front up around her neck, a yellow sun hat, and her large sunglasses. “Temo told me I might find y’all up here.”

  “Morning,” we said. Mac and Bay rose slightly from their seats.

  “I was wondering, Mr. Colquette, if I could accompany you to the big island? I can’t pack any of my late husband’s things here per that Inspector, but I thought perhaps I could get things started on getting his body home.”

  “Sure,” Bay said. “I was going to leave right after breakfast.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Sassy said. “I won’t feel so threatened by that inspector if you’re there.”

  “Bay’ll take good care of you,” Miss Vivee said. “He won’t let anyone run over you.”

  “Good,” she said. “Now no rush, you hear? Take your time enjoy your breakfast.” She smiled at Bay. “I’ll just wait for you down by the dock.”

  Chapter Twenty

  We took a morning island hopping cruise after Bay and Sassy left for the big island. When we got on the boat I felt as if I was travelling with celebrities. Everyone knew Miss Vivee and Mac. They were quite the popular newlywed couple.

  We visited four nearby islands and were back before noon. It started to rain soon after we returned, and we took refuge in one of the cabanas and ordered lunch.

  Bay’s plan was to go to the American Embassy first and then the police station. He had no idea how long he’d be gone, and the clock moved so much slower in his absence, that just the four hours he’d been gone so far seemed like an eternity.

  During the morning, I flinched every time Miss Vivee started to say something. I worried that her conversation would turn to murder, and I had my fingers crossed that once Bay got ahold of that autopsy report it would quash Miss Vivee’s assumption. I knew that I had decided that she was usually right, and I shouldn’t even try to believe anything other than what she had surmised. I still clung to a sliver of hope.

  As many murders as I’d seen since I’d met Miss Vivee, one would think that her speculating homicide wouldn’t bother me as much as it was, but it did.

  Plus, I just didn’t want Miss Vivee’s prognostications of us and murder inexplicably linked to follow me all the way around to the other side of the world.

  I jumped every time I heard a seaplane or speedboat motor and went to the doorway of the cabana to see if it was Bay.

  “A watched pot never boils,” Miss Vivee said.

  “What does that even mean?” I asked.

  “That if you keep watching for Bay, he’ll never get here,” she said.

  I didn’t know how that was possible, he was coming back. But I restrained myself, and it was Mac who announced Bay’s arrival.

  It wasn’t long after lunch that as he crossed the water in the speedboat. I walked out to meet him. He looked so handsome, standing at the bow, the wind blowing through his flowered cotton shirt, his legs tanned and sturdy in his white Polo shorts. Still I knew he carried the news that I was dreading.

  “He’s here,” I said to Miss Vivee as she walked up and stood next to me.

  I prayed that their deaths were from natural causes. I closed my eyes, crossed my fingers, and with lips moving, silently mumbled my supplication.

  “What are you mumbling about?” Miss Vivee said and elbowed me.

  I looked at her. “I’m just praying,” I said.

  “About what?”

  “I’m just praying that it’s not murder.”

  Miss Vivee clucked out a chuckle. It was a sinister little snicker. “You can quit your praying, Missy,” she said. “It’s murder. You’ll see.”

  Bay stepped on the shore, and the first thing I noticed was that he was by himself. No Sassy, and the look on his face told it all.

  “Where’s Sassy?” Mac asked, only to delay hearing what was in the forefront of everyone’s mind.

  “She needed to make arrangements for the body. I think maybe her father might come over, or get a friend of his that works for the government here to help her expedite things.” Bay scratched his brow. “I think she was a bit overwhelmed, not comprehending anything that was going on. But she’ll be back later. I just wanted to get back to Logan.”

  “The toxicology reports haven’t come in yet. But we got the cause of death for both victims.”

  The anticipation was killing me. Bay, I wanted to scream. Spit. It. Out!

  “Madda Crawford’s cause of death,” he said, not waiting for us to ask, “was drowning.”
He took in a breath. “More than likely, based on the contusions found on her head, she’d been knocked unconscious before she hit the water.”

  No one said anything, we were holding our breaths waiting for him to continue. He let out a long sigh before saying, “Campbell Gruger died from water intoxication.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I should have known better than to let two ninety-year old, know-it-all, wannabe sleuths, who insisted that they still looked good in swimsuits honeymoon at my dig.

  Especially since death followed them like thunder followed lightening.

  Or should I say, murder.

  Yes, murder followed them. It didn’t follow me. There was no doubt about it. Miss Vivee had tried to rope me into believing that she and I were destined to solve murders in Yasamee. That I was some sort of murder magnet (actually my label). She’d even tried to convince me that she’d waited more than sixty years for me to arrive for our caper to begin.

  Well this was Fiji! Not Yasamee. Not Georgia. Not even close.

  Since I’d met them, a little more than a year ago, I’d seen more dead bodies than in all the sequels of the Hollywood slasher movie, Scream. And now, here were two more, one of them seemingly murdered.

  I shook my head.

  I don’t know why I’d ever doubt Miss Vivee.

  I would get myself all riled up, hoping that maybe it wasn’t murder, when all the time I knew it probably was. I should just also go with Miss Vivee’s theory from the word go. It would relieve the stress of fighting against her.

  Bay knew how much the murder diagnosis had upset me. And after we were alone he tried to make me feel better by saying that the Fijian police didn’t think it was murder and had no plans to investigate it as a homicide.

  But what Bay didn’t know was that I had for all intents and purposes switched sides. Miss Vivee and Mac had pulled that cause of death from the miniscule clues that were left behind. They had put together what Campbell Gruger had told Mac and jugs of water at the camp and came up with something that it took a medical examiner to find.

  It was ingenious. Sherlock Holmes-esque.

  I decided that maybe from here on out, it would always be better to side with the smart people, even if they were a bit eccentric.

  And I thought maybe I should try to help them because it would be a good thing to let a murderer get away with their dastardly deed.

  Then I thought again. Nah. Even if they were right, I didn’t need to get involved in their murder investigation. I decided to let it go and just enjoy Bay.

  Bay and I took a late afternoon stroll, and had stopped at the beach bar for drinks. We were having a lazy afternoon, the Kava Ceremony was that night and we had plenty of time just to do nothing and enjoy each other before we had to get ready. We were watching television when we heard a news flash about our two deaths that, according to the anchor, had taken place on the calm, peaceful island of Malolo.

  “The police are investigating the deaths,” the newscaster announced. But according to early reports, it doesn’t look like foul play.” The screen flipped to a bespectacled man dressed in a light blue short sleeved shirt, with stars on his collar, and a dark blue beret. The caption underneath read: Police commissioner, Brigadier General Innno Ranson.

  “I have told the team of investigators,” the general said into a microphone, standing at a podium. “To do their work and not to let any pressure rush them, whether that pressure is from the media, my office, senior officers, or any outside sources.” He looked down at a paper he was holding and back up toward the camera. “And that they were to work within their own resources and not let any input from anyone, or anywhere else, influence them regardless of the fact that the victims were Americans.”

  Switching back to the news studio, the anchor relayed, “Police Commissioner Brigadier General Innno Ranson spoke this morning, reiterating the same contentions that he’d made when two Russians were found dead near their abandoned vehicle. There are no updates in that case. As for the deaths on Malolo, the commissioner said that the police will comment once investigations are complete.”

  I looked at Bay. I knew the police commissioner’s comments meant him. “Sounds like they were talking directly to you,” I said.

  “Looks like I was just thrown off the case.” He coughed out a chuckle and stood up. “I’m going to have to go back,” he said. “Back over to Nadi.”

  “It’s so late,” I said. “How are you going to get there? And you’re going to miss the Kava Ceremony.”

  “I have to go,” he said. “I might be able to make it back in time.” He huffed and looked down at his watch. “And I don’t know how I’m going to get there. Maybe I can use Temo’s catamaran. I just don’t want the Embassy to think I’m involved and the locals here don’t want me to be. I mean they sought me out.”

  “I know they did. As soon as you got to Fiji.”

  “Right. But from what he just said,” Bay nodded toward the TV, “it’s like I just stuck my nose in where it didn’t belong.” He looked at me. “Sort of like you and Grandmother do.”

  “I don’t stick my nose in, your grandmother does. My nose gets dragged in. Every time. Either by deception, or my need to feel like I have to look out for her so she doesn’t get herself killed.”

  ┌┐└┘┌┐└┘┌┐└┘┌┐└┘┌┐└┘

  While Bay was gone, I started feeling restless. I had been fine on the island without him before he came, now I just wanted him to hurry and get back. So, after he left, I wandered up one of the walking trails. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Wanting to just think about Bay. I knew if I hung out with Miss Vivee it would only be more murder talk.

  But of course as I walked, murder was all I could think of. I found a big rock, sat down, and pulled out my phone.

  I clicked on Google and skimmed scientific articles on water intoxication and hyponatremia, and dumbed-down articles from people like the Science Guy, wishing I had my laptop, so I could read more. One article I found explained it in a nutshell: “Should you consume so much fluid that your body can’t easily rid itself of the surplus, you dilute the sodium levels in your blood. Osmosis then draws water from the blood into body cells to equallize sodium levels, and those cells swell.”

  Yep. That’s what Miss Vivee and the coroner said.

  Water. I shook my head. It was still unbelivable to me that someone would think to use it as a murder weapon.

  Then I decided to research Miss Vivee’s assertions that it wasn’t healthy to drink a lot of water, and she wasn’t far off from being right there either. It appears that the old staple of drinking eight glasses a day might not be needed by everyone. The new understanding was that your body knows when it needs water, and there is no need to try and stay ahead of its requirements by drinking it in daily prescribed amounts. Who knew? Drink when you’re thirsty. Nothing more. That combats not only being over-hydrated, but dehydrated as well.

  I stuck my phone back in my pocket.

  I just wondered how she knew that Campbell Gruger was dead before he ran off that bridge. And there certainly wasn’t any way for her to know that if he were dead at that moment, that he hadn’t died from a heart attack, or something else less ominous.

  He had been working out in the hot Fijian sun. He had been taking steroids, and who knows what else. Any of those things could have killed him, but not any of those things had crossed her mind.

  I pulled out my phone thinking I’d look up more on the subject, then stuck it right back in my pocket.

  I wasn’t here for murders and mayhem of the Vivienne Pennywell sort. I was here to have fun. And when Bay got back, hopefully in time for the Kava ceremony, that was exactly what I was going to do.

  I decided to go back to my bure, but when I got there, I found Miss Vivee and Mac playing backgammon.

  “You guys get locked out of your bure?” I asked.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Miss Vivee said. “Thought we’d keep you company until Bay got back.
Didn’t want you feeling lonely.” She smiled at me. “I made you some tea.”

  I just shook my head. When she wasn’t driving me crazy, I couldn’t help but to adore that old woman.

  “And I was thinking,” Miss Vivee said. “Maybe we could walk over to the village and get us a native outfit to wear to the ceremony tonight.”

  Yep. I loved my grandma.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We walked over to the local village. Letting Mac stroll in front of us as we entered, we had been told that native Fijians are very warm and friendly, but there were some local customs that still lingered that were very much different from the western world we were used to. One was about women and their place.

  And although Miss Vivee was feisty, and did whatever she put her mind to, not taking “any mess,” as she put it “from anyone,” I found she was very respectful to the country’s mores. Even making Mac lose his usual straw Panama.

  We’d come to the village, per Miss Vivee’s suggestion, to buy authentic sarongs for the Kava Ceremony and to keep my mind off of Bay not being there. And the first thing I saw was Hank Harrison.

  He was just turning up everywhere. And after finding out about the broken oars, if I believed Miss Vivee’s rumor mill, he was just as bad a Madda. He was definitely someone to be careful of, at least in my opinion. Since I had decided that it may be possible to kill someone by making them drink too much water, I’d put my money on Hank Harrison.

  Then no sooner than I thought we’d have a nice tourist kind of visit to the village, I discovered that it was going to turn out to be another grilling of one of Miss Vivee’s suspects.

  Miss Vivee started swinging her purse back and forth, hitting my leg with it. “Look,” she leaned over toward me and whispered. “It’s Harley Grace from the camp. Remember?” She smacked me with her purse again.

  “Yes, I remember,” I said, side-stepping out of her way.

  “C’mon,” she said and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go talk to her.”

  I somehow knew that was coming.