Bad Hair Day 2 - Hair Raiser (12 page)

*Chapter Twelve*
As Marla stood frozen in place, a shadowy figure bolted from a balcony several stories above them. The coconut, an airborne missile, plunged earthward. Even as her mind registered the danger, strong hands shoved between her shoulder blades from behind. She pitched forward, taking the brunt of the fall on her hands and knees. Sprawling on the ground, she shook her spinning head. Thankfully, she'd landed on soft soil rather than concrete, but she hadn't escaped unscathed.
"Are you all right?"
David's solicitous inquiry penetrated her stunned consciousness. "Yes, I think so." Rising unsteadily to her feet with his assistance, she gingerly stretched her arms and legs. "No broken bones, just some scrapes." The fleshy part of her palms burned, but she managed to brush the dirt off her clothes.
"You're hurt." His gaze darkened, lifted to the balcony. "Sonovabitch. Someone hurled that coconut at you. I can go after the bastard, unless you need me." His voice wavered indecisively.
"Whoever it was probably got away," she said in disgust. "I'd like to get cleaned up. By any chance, did you bring Band-Aids? I might have scraped my knees."
"There's some in my shaving kit."
"I'll look for the ladies' room while you access your luggage. Maybe you can urge the receptionist to get our rooms ready if you tell her about my accident." Holding his arm, she retreated toward their hotel.
"It wasn't an accident."
She heard the ominous note in his voice. "Do you really believe someone tried to bash my brains? Who else knew we were here besides Cynthia?" A feeling of dread assailed her. Surely her cousin couldn't be involved. More likely, they'd been followed onto the airplane. If so, who had given orders that she was to be put out of action?
"Popeye's heir must have gotten wind about our trip," David said in a grim tone. "That's the only thing that makes sense."
It became more imperative to contact Morton Riley, but when she phoned his number again, no one answered. "We could hop into a taxi and wait for him on his doorstep," she suggested, although her body craved rest. She'd cleansed her wounds in the rest room, but that only made her hands and knees ache more.
"Our rooms are almost ready. Why don't you lie down for a while? You look tired, and events have taken their toll. I'd rather you be well rested to enjoy our dinner tonight." His eyes crinkled as he smiled kindly.
Her heart warmed at his obvious concern. "What about Riley? Do you think the person who threw that coconut will go after him next? If Riley can identify the heir, he's in danger."
"I don't know. Maybe the guilty party just wants to put you out of commission, believing that will screw up the fund-raiser enough for your cousin to cancel the affair. That would achieve his objective if Ocean Guard fails to meet its commitments. You might be his sole target."
"Oh, joy. That's reassuring."
Loud music blared, and she noticed people were crowding the lobby. A band marched into sight. Dressed in colorful Junkanoo costumes, the players paraded for the tourists, pausing for photo opportunities.
She caught sight of the receptionist signaling. Their rooms were ready, and they finally received their keys.
"You go ahead and get some rest," David commanded. "I'll keep trying to reach Riley. If we connect, I'll let you know right away. Otherwise, why don't you and I meet back in the lobby at six? If Riley is meeting with government officials, he should be finished by then."
"Okay." Nothing appealed to her more than crawling into bed just then and seeking oblivion. Although her fears weren't abated, it felt good to put them aside for a brief interval. Deciding to let David carry the burden of worry, she succumbed to sleep within the hour.
When six o'clock drew near, Marla felt refreshed and prepared to tackle any difficulty. She'd showered and changed into a dressy pantsuit for the evening and descended the elevator, looking forward to greeting David.
His familiar countenance did not grace the lobby until fifteen minutes past their meeting time. When he appeared, a harried expression carved lines on his face. His skin showed an unhealthy pallor, and his hands, when he grasped hers, trembled.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her gaze scanning the lobby for hidden dangers.
He gave a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I couldn't rest. Too wound up, I suppose. How about you? You look ravishing tonight." His posture eased as he regarded her with a mock leer. "Maybe we should just go to dinner and forget about Riley until tomorrow. It's not often we get the chance to be alone together."
How could he ignore their reason for being there? "If you're not going to Riley's place now, I am. Will you come or not?" A hint of annoyance spiced her tone. She couldn't help it; here he was romancing her when they had business to conduct. _I'm not some sappy female, pal. Normally, I can face the tough issues. When someone isn't trying to bash my brains in with a coconut, that is._
His mouth curved downward at her decision. "Of course I'm coming. I was just trying to save you some grief."
"Why? Do you know something I don't?"
He glanced at her before averting his eyes. "You're being unusually hostile."
"You're being evasive. You looked upset when I met you."
"I'm concerned about your safety."
"Your face was white, like you'd seen a ghost."
"All right, I'm worried because Morton Riley still isn't answering his phone. I don't want us to get involved if the Bahamian police show up. They might detain us."
She raised her eyebrows quizzically. "What for? Detain us over his absence?"
His lips tightened into a thin line. "We'll find out soon enough. Let's go and get this visit over with."
Outside, the weather had become cloudy and windy with the heavy ambience of impending rain. A crowd milled about the valet stand, while a line of taxis waited for customers.
"Let's take a jitney," David suggested, peering about with a guarded expression. "If anyone is keeping tabs on our movements, it'll be harder to track us with people getting on and off along the route. We'll take a taxi back to the hotel."
Rubbing her sore hands, she followed him down the curving driveway to street level, where they found a bus stop. It wasn't long before a lumbering vehicle rattled to a stop in front of them. Climbing inside, Marla took a seat at David's indication.
"The fare is seventy-five cents each, due when we get off. I'll take care of it," he whispered, pulling out his wallet.
"Some people are paying a dollar," she observed, realizing US currency was readily accepted on the island. "They must be leaving a tip for the driver."
"I noticed."
Staring out the window, she watched as they passed by a verdant golf course, brightly painted residences, and an empty schoolyard. Pink, coral, lime green, and turquoise were popular colors for most of the buildings. On the left, the ocean reflected slate gray from clouds scudding overhead in a darkening sky. Soon night would descend, and the air would be filled with perfumed fragrances of tropical flowers.
They got off near the British Colonial Hotel. "Which way?" she asked since David seemed more familiar with the place. He must have been to Nassau before, she assumed.
"Up this street." Trudging past the Conch Fritters Bar & Grill, he turned right and headed up a series of winding streets.
Marla became increasingly uneasy as they entered a residential district where few tourists were visible. Electric power lines crossed a street broken by uneven paving, which made walking difficult. A stray dog, black except for white forelegs, blocked their path, baring its teeth as they skirted around. Older-model cars littered a sandy lot like cast-aside toys. No lights shone from within an adjacent house, almost as though the residents had abandoned their home like the drivers who'd discarded their dilapidated vehicles.
Beyond the hillside, Marla was relieved to find a more affluent community with single-story homes and lush landscaping. "This is it," David said, gesturing at a house with a white-tile roof and brick-paved driveway. Streetlights cast a dim glow on the sand-colored structure. David paused to kick a few pebbles out of his path.
Marla's stomach growled, reminding her it was mealtime. If Riley had been home, she'd have expected to sniff the spicy aroma of conch chowder emanating from his house. But the only scent was an earthy odor of rotting vegetation. No sounds came from within the house, which was dark as a ship's cargo hold. Maybe Riley had a dinner engagement in town. That would account for this unusual stillness.
Approaching the entrance, she hesitated when David didn't follow. "What's the matter?" she asked him with a puzzled frown.
"Things seem awfully quiet. Do you think it's right to show up unannounced like this?"
"Of course it is. Riley should be home by now, unless he was detained in town. In that case, we can leave a note on his door. I've got a pad of paper in my purse."
Raising her hand to ring the doorbell, she froze upon noticing the entry was slightly ajar. "Hello," she called, pushing the door open a crack.
"Marla, don't go inside," David warned, looming up beside her. "You'll be ... It wouldn't be wise if no one's home."
It sounded as though he'd meant to say something else, but Marla ignored him, curiosity compelling her onward. A gust of wind swept by her legs, widening the crevice. Boldly, she shoved the door open and stepped inside.
"Mr. Riley?" Her voice came out as a hoarse cry. Hearing no response, she searched for a light switch. A hall light provided illumination for comfortable livingroom furnishings. An open briefcase lay on an armchair, papers strewn on the floor. Marla glanced down an empty corridor, her heart thumping.
"Let me look for Riley. You stay here," David commanded, tapping her arm.
"Not on your life."
Pushing past him, Marla crept down a darkened hallway toward what she figured must be the kitchen. "Mr. Riley!" she called again. No response. The open archway into the kitchen beckoned.
Marla took one step inside, then stumbled backward. "Dear Lord. David!" Even in the faint light coming from the single window, she'd seen the blood. Everywhere. On the walls, countertops, covering the floor like a slippery, congealed mass. She hadn't missed the body either, or the butcher knife impaled in the man's chest.
Slapping a hand to her mouth, she whirled around to flee and collided with David's solid form.
He caught her by the shoulders. "My God," he mumbled. Without loosening his grip, he leaned sideways to peer into the kitchen. "That's Riley. His face ... I've met him before." His tone deepened. "We've got to get out of here."
"Shouldn't we call the police?"
"Not now. Let's move."
Too stunned to comprehend, Marla followed him outside, where she wrapped stiff arms around her trembling body. A cool breeze ruffled her hair, tossing strands into her eyes. Her hand shook as she pushed them away.
David led her along the road, presumably heading toward the main thoroughfare where they could catch a taxi. "We can't afford to get involved with Bahamian officials," he explained. "We might miss our flight home. They might even think _we_ had something to do with his death."
David's earlier words came back to her as she trailed him down a hill. _I don't want us to get involved if the Bahamian police show up. They might detain us._ Why would he have said that earlier unless he knew something was wrong? Other than Riley's not answering the phone, that is.
She halted in her tracks. "Hold on. Where were you while I was resting in my hotel room?"
David stopped and turned, his expression inscrutable. "I was getting changed."
"That wouldn't have taken two hours or more."
"What are you implying, Marla?"
"You came here, hoping to scoop me on Riley's interview. He was dead already when you found him, wasn't he?"
Gliding forward, David took her hands in his large palms. "I was hoping to spare you the trouble," he said earnestly. "If I could get the information from him, you wouldn't have had to bother. So I set up an appointment once Riley answered the phone. I got here within thirty minutes, but it was too late."
"If you knew he was dead, why didn't you tell me?"
"Would you have believed me? You'd have insisted on coming yourself, and you'd have been angry with me like you are now." He hung his head like a remorseful child. "I'm sorry. I made a mistake, but I was only trying to protect you."
"Dammit, David, I don't want to be protected." Stomping ahead, she fumed at the machinations of controlling men. Now their best lead was gone, and his killer might still be on the island. The residential district seemed deathly quiet for a Monday evening, and even the birds who were normally vocal had silenced their songs. Cedar pines scented the air, a light wind rustling through their branches. It sounded as though the night whispered against her, stealing her security and firing her blood with wild imaginings.
"I'm going to notify the authorities," she hissed to David once they'd reached their hotel safely. "I'll call from a pay phone and give an anonymous tip. That way, we won't get involved." She didn't want to miss their flight home any more than he did, but it wasn't right to leave Riley's body lying there. The Bahamian police would carry out an investigation. Besides, it was only conjecture on her part that someone from the mainland was involved. Riley might have had other enemies unrelated to their concerns.
Dinner at Cafe Johnny Canoe was a somber affair. Marla could barely eat her meal of grilled mahimahi, pigeon peas and rice, and macaroni and cheese Bahamian style. Something was very spicy, either the seasoning on the flaky fish, or those green things in the square of macaroni and cheese with its crusted top. Tears sprang into her eyes, but maybe it wasn't from the food. A lump clogged her throat, and she realized it was her reaction to Riley's death. Hoping to allay her horror of the night's events, she gulped down a rum-laden Goombay Smash.

Feeling numb, she was grateful when David gave her a chaste good night kiss on her forehead outside her room.
"Lock your door and go to sleep," he urged, his eyes dark with concern. "We've still got another two days before we can leave. Tomorrow we'll go shopping downtown. There should be safety in numbers, and I need to get gifts for a few people. It'll be better if we pretend things are normal."
She saw what he meant by safety in numbers after they took the jitney downtown in the morning. East Bay Street was mobbed with cruise-ship passengers bustling from one shop to the next. Glad she had worn her sweater as a cold front had moved in, Marla suggested they work their way down one side of the street first.
Souvenir shops, perfumeries, china and crystal emporiums, and jewelry stores tempted her with their wares. Stopping in one of the latter, she bought a few trinkets for her staff. David showed her the heavy sterling silver bracelets he'd bought for his mother and sister as they strolled farther along the street.
"Damn, the link just broke!" he cried, showing her the damaged item. "I'll have to return it." In the store, he handed the receipt to a clerk. "I'll take this other bracelet," he proclaimed, "but see how you gave me fifteen percent off on both these items as they were priced the same? I think I'll owe you money back if I get this other one."
Marla regarded him with admiration. "Not everyone would be so honest," she said. "If the store clerk didn't notice the discount, it would be her fault."
His jaw dropped in horror. "That's being untruthful, Marla. I always tell the salesgirl when she's made a mistake, even if it's in the store's favor."
"Of course." But even as she agreed, Marla wondered why he'd been untruthful to her. David should have told her he'd been to Riley's house and found him dead. Instead, he'd led her to the murder scene, where she had to discover the unpleasantness for herself. Nonetheless, she'd insisted on going despite his attempts to discourage her. She supposed he'd tried to protect her, although his approach rankled.
Lunchtime brought them to the Conch Fritters Bar & Grill. She ordered grilled grouper, baked sweet potato, and steamed zucchini. Painted wood parrots dangled from a thatched-roof ceiling where fans revolved to the lazy accompaniment of island music. It was a respite from their worries, although she couldn't dismiss the sensation that they were being watched.
Aware of her disquiet, David suggested they take a taxi that evening to Traveler's Rest, a popular native restaurant facing the ocean. Arriving after seven o'clock, they asked for a seat outdoors under an awning.
"No one followed us," she whispered so the other diners wouldn't hear. "We rode in the only vehicle coming this way."
David, looking handsome in a striped shirt and navy trousers, visibly relaxed. "I hope you're right."
As the sun descended, a calm settled over the sea that reflected her mood. She soaked in the peacefulness of the scene as though it were balm for her soul. No one had hassled them all day, and she felt relaxed enough to think clearly.
"So what are your theories about the heir?" she asked David, purposefully avoiding the subject of Morton Riley. She couldn't bear to think of the scene in his house.
"I haven't a clue." He sipped a banana daiquiri, gazing thoughtfully at the darkening sky. "There's Babs Winrow. It's always possible the heir is a woman, you know. She strikes me as a determined personality who's willing to do whatever it takes to achieve her goals."
"I think she's been lying to her husband. She told him she was going to a meeting in Tampa, but I happen to know she was in Orlando instead. I wonder what her purpose in going there was." Marla chewed on a piece of soft warmed bread that melted in her mouth. "Then there's Digby Raines whose political aspirations include flirting with every woman in sight."
David nodded vigorously, a lock of hair falling across his forehead.
"Raines was involved in some dirty dealings with Ben several years ago. I don't know if you heard about that."
"His porno flick? Yeah, I did, but I thought that was over with." She took a tentative taste of her grouper smothered in tomatoes, onions, and green peppers. It came with the ever-popular pigeon peas and rice along with cole slaw.
"It wasn't over with if Raines held a grudge or was afraid Ben would remind the public about that fiasco in an election year." He pointed a finger at her. "Don't forget Stefano Barletti. I've heard things about him, too."
"The funeral director?" She sniffed the balmy ocean air, wishing they were talking about lighter matters. Until the fund-raiser took place, she supposed none of them could rest easy.
"I heard Ben was suing Stefano on behalf of some clients."
"I need to talk to that guy," Marla mumbled half to herself. "I'm seeing Dr. Taylor on Thursday," she announced. They spent a few minutes discussing the medical waste problem Cynthia and her husband were handling. "I'd like to determine if Dr. Taylor is involved. He seems the logical choice."
David stuffed a barbecued shrimp into his mouth. "How about Darren Shapiro? He's always so quiet. Maybe he is secretly Popeye's heir, and he's the one who's been plotting against us."
Marla remembered what Vail had told her, that a weapon from Darren's collection had killed Ben. "Who knows?" she said, suddenly edgy. "Anyway, what's on the agenda for tomorrow? We have the entire morning before we go to the airport. Where can we go that'll be safe?" Riley's murderer might still be waiting for another opportunity to take a potshot at her, and she didn't want to give him the chance.
David's expression brightened. "We'll go to Crystal Cay. It's an island park with an undersea exhibition where you can view the coral reef. Should be a good way to kill time."
Apparently someone else thought _kill_ was the appropriate word. After she and David viewed the underwater observatory at Crystal Cay the next morning, they split up. The island, accessible via bridge from Nassau, had a beach, nature trails, and a seafood restaurant. Marla wanted to check out the Marine Gardens, while David headed for the Shark Tank. Tropical shrubbery made a thick jungle lining the walkways. Not many people were around, but that didn't bother Marla until she heard a loud _crack_. Startled, she quickened her pace. The thick foliage made seeing beyond the winding path impossible. Another loud noise sounded, and she felt a whoosh of air fly by her cheek. Her heart raced as realization dawned.
_Someone was shooting at her._
Screaming David's name, she charged along the path searching for his familiar form. Trees obstructed her view as she rounded one corner after the next. Finally, Marla spied him trotting in her direction from the Turtle Pool. "We've got to get away from here!" she cried. "The killer is nearby. He has a gun!"
As though to emphasize her point, a crack sounded from behind, followed by a thudding sound on a nearby tree.
David's face blanched. "This way," he rasped, gesturing.
They wound up at the entrance without further incidents. Too many people were milling about the ticket window just after a new bus arrived for the murderer to fire at them.
"We'll take a taxi," David determined, eyeing the empty bus. He flagged a cab nearest to the curb, and they tumbled inside. "Marriott Resort," he ordered, before turning to Marla. "Let's get our bags and head to the airport, even if it's early."
Her voice shook as she replied. "I agree. I've had it with this place. Let's go home."