Chapter Seven
Seven
Naturally, they were up bright and early.
And, as seemed to be the norm when Chloe emerged from the bedroom, Wes was already up, dressed in swimming trunks and a short-sleeved
cotton shirt, ready to hit the road.
“Five minutes!” she told him.
“No rush, we’re okay. Not quite seven. Time to grab a delicious breakfast before heading out for an hour and half on the bus,”
he told her.
She laughed. “I think that the bus trip is bugging you more than anything,” she told him.
“Okay, I admit it—I don’t like buses. But hey! From what I’ve gathered, we’ll have four of our suspects with us, the McClintock
brothers and Jeff and Celia Henderson. What a wonderful way to get to know them!” he said.
“There will be about thirty of us on that bus, you know,” she reminded him.
“In truth, it’s been interesting talking to others. Howard Markowitz and his wife are going to fly home from Jamaica, so it’s not just the powers that be who are so worried about what’s going on,” he reminded her.
“Well, we’ll just be a pair of social butterflies!” she said.
He smiled at that. “I know you’ll do great!” he told her.
“So will you. And I wonder sometimes if it’s a bad thing, as you thought, that we both responded on instinct and went after
Edward Thompson . . . People do want to talk to us,” she said, grimacing.
“They do. So let’s go have fun on that bus!”
Chloe laughed at his feigned enthusiasm and hurried into the bathroom, showered and stepped into her old bathing suit, wishing
she’d spent the time to get a new one, covering up with a pair of shorts and a tunic top, and heading on out, bearing towels
to stick into her bag.
“Cute!” he assured her.
“Trying, anyway,” she said.
“More than that, you’re succeeding.”
“If you say so . . .”
“Am I hunky enough?” he inquired, arching a brow.
She groaned. “Let’s go to breakfast!”
They headed up to the Sea and Sand dining room, the most casual restaurant on the ship, where they discovered that most of
the passengers had gathered. But while it was extremely busy, it wasn’t difficult to grab a couple of breakfast sandwiches
and cups of coffee—the restaurant was always working to get people in and out, especially on days when the passengers were
headed off on tours.
Heading out to join the throng to leave the ship, they saw George Garcia and Edward Thompson.
Poor Edward was being hailed and addressed by just about everyone near him; he seemed to be a truly loved character.
George was at his side every step of the way, ever watchful. He saw Wes and Chloe and gave them a nod of assurance.
Disembarking was ridiculously quick. Cruise ships had it down to a science, with passengers having a quick picture taken as they stepped off the ship, which were compared to the ones they took when first boarding when they returned to the vessel.
Airports were using eye and facial scans, so this seemed to be something similar.
In line, they found themselves next to the woman who had been at their table the night before, Sally Brookins. She was cheerful
and excited, a fountain of energy. An attractive older woman with her curiously beautiful silver hair, straight demeanor and
quick smile.
“Hello, honeymooners!” she said, greeting them. “So, you two are off to the Falls!”
“We are. And you’re going to head off and explore Montego Bay?” Wes asked.
“Yes!” She lowered her voice and murmured. “I may run around and . . . Well, you know! Keep an eye out for others on the cruise.
See what they’re up to!”
“Oh?” Chloe said.
Sally laughed. “As if none of this has occurred to you two!”
“None of this—?” Wes asked her.
For a moment, all the humor left Sally’s eyes. She was deadly serious and, in truth, appeared shrewd and knowing.
And she spoke quietly, determined that no one near them would hear her words. “Come on! I heard that man the other day, spouting
off! That so-called murder-suicide that occurred in Broward Country, six people dead and all of it blamed on one woman who
was probably as innocent as a newborn baby!” Sally told them gravely.
Wes frowned. “Sally, if you’re that concerned, you should do what Howard Markowitz is doing—leave the ship!”
“Oh, hell no, young man!” she told him.
“But Sally—” Chloe began.
Sally waved a hand in the air, cutting her off.
“Not to worry. I’m a member of a group called the Wednesday Sherlockians.
We love to read, of course, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, first and foremost. But Randy Mann is a retired cop and Sheila was CIA for a decade!
There’s no way that we don’t study current crime and put our heads together,” she said.
Wes shook his head. “Sally, if there is something going on—”
“You don’t fool an old broad like me! You know there is,” Sally said.
“They’re dangerous! You need to stay away from them! Don’t follow people, take great care, don’t let anyone suspect that you’re
suspicious—” Wes said, concern deep in his voice.
“Young man! Not to worry. I’m just a sweet old bird! And I never act like anything but!” she assured him.
“Oh, Sally!” Wes murmured.
“Really!” Chloe added, looking at Wes. She was very afraid that the woman might get herself hurt.
Or worse, killed.
As they were speaking, Chloe noticed that George and Edward were just a few people down the line behind them.
“Hey!” she said, waving to the pair.
“So, we’re just off to a lovely lunch and you people are climbing a waterfall today, eh?” Edward called.
“We’re going to go get wet,” Wes called. “Sally is going out for lunch. Maybe . . .”
Chloe knew that somehow—she wasn’t sure how—but that Wes’s simple words had alerted George to the fact that they were worried
about the woman.
But it wasn’t George who answered.
It was Edward.
“Sally! We’re just going to lunch and then back aboard the ship, all at a leisurely gait! You’re welcome to join us!” he said.
“How lovely!” Sally said. “Thank you so very much. I’d be delighted to join you!”
“Wonderful. Then we’ll meet—” Edward began.
“I’ll just slide back there right now—the people between us will be happy to have one less person in line ahead of them!”
she said.
With a brilliant smile, she thanked Chloe and Wes for being so friendly and headed on back to join Edward and George.
George gave them a wave.
Wes nodded.
Chloe looked at Wes. She moved closer, keeping her voice low as before. “Great, Markowitz leaving the ship, Sally convinced
something is up—” she began.
“Chloe, I’m sure that many people are suspicious,” Wes said.
“But it didn’t come up at all before. Now . . .”
“Now, most people probably believe that sad and tragic as it may have been, one woman went a little crazy. The only way the
other deaths have been connected is through federal investigations, so . . .”
“You have people who may also be part of something like a Sally’s Wednesday Sherlockians—and others who were in law enforcement
of some kind at some time,” Chloe said.
He nodded. “It just makes what we’re doing all the more important.”
“You think that Edward and Sally will really be all right with George?” she asked.
“I do. A, the man is an experienced agent. B, he’s also a nurse—suspicious of any dangers that those not in the health profession
might skip over entirely. Yeah, I think they’re okay with George,” Wes assured her.
Off the ship, they had a chance to bid goodbye to Edward and George and head for their bus.
And they got lucky. While Celia and Jeff Henderson were seated at the front of the bus several rows ahead of them, they wound
up with Daniel and Broderick McClintock in the seats directly behind them.
They had a bus driver and a tour guide. At first, the guide spoke, welcoming them to Jamaica, describing the country’s history
and how it, like so many places, had its first European visitor be Christopher Columbus, on his second trip to the New World
in 1494.
But there was, of course, a history before that.
People known as the Redware People because of their pottery were the first known inhabitants of the island, circa 300 to 600
AD. Next up, the Arawak arrived, followed by the Spanish and the English; the native peoples fled to the mountains along with
many of those who had been enslaved. Spanish rule became English rule.
Their guide went through the centuries quickly, giving them a general overview of the island, ending with Jamaica’s Independence
in 1962 and talking about the beauty and the many splendors of the island.
“They’re forgetting the crime rate!”
Chloe turned. It was Broderick who had spoken. He looked at her and grimaced. “Well, it’s true. They don’t have a great crime
rate. That’s why it’s always important to me that we go with the flow—you know, trips arranged by the ship. There was a story
once—I forget where, not Jamaica, but some port—and some people figured it was cheaper and best just to go with some friendly
guy at the port. Husband and wife. They were never seen again,” he told them.
Chloe smiled. “Well, we are on a trip planned by the cruise and last I read, Jamaica was doing a good job at getting a handle on their crime. Hey, I was here as a college kid—we went over the mountains with just a few friends. The biggest danger we experienced was someone getting higher than a kite, there was so much marijuana being planted, harvested—and sold to dumb tourists!” she said cheerfully.
“So, you were a bit of a stoner, then?” Broderick teased.
“Oh, not me! Even in college, I had far too much respect for my parents!” Chloe said.
“You mean you were afraid of them?” Daniel asked.
“No, I just didn’t want them to be disappointed in me,” Chloe said.
“Wow. You were a good kid,” Broderick told her.
She shrugged. “I guess they were good parents.”
Daniel laughed softly. “So, she makes a good wife, too, eh, Wes?”
“That she does!” Wes assured him with passion.
“As you wish, as you wish!” Daniel said, laughing.
“Hey! I think we told you all, we just learned how to be . . . hm, successful, I guess? We both try to do the ‘as you wish’