Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) (17 page)

Mart was as excited as a little boy at Christmas. “This should be fantastic!” he said, eyes wide.

We were wrapping up our trip with nonstop activities today — the boat trip all morning and this in the afternoon. Tonight was the farewell dinner as one big happy family. And then, it would be off to bed. One way or another. I glanced at Mart from the corner of my eye and deliberately bumped my hip up against his as we walked. He bumped back enthusiastically.

The helicopter was bigger than I thought it would be when we got right up to it. Our pilot — mid-thirties and slight, with dark, deep set eyes — handed me into the craft with a warm smile. Aside from the frightening incidents I’d endured on this trip, everyone else I’d met here in Belize had been friendly, welcoming, and gracious.

The pilot made sure we were observing all the safety rules and gave us each a headset to wear so we could communicate.

“You can imagine it’s pretty noisy in here,” he said, pointing a finger up to where the rotor sat on the roof. “This way we’ll be able to talk with each other. You wouldn’t want to miss my running commentary,” he said, winking.

In the seat just behind the pilot, Elaine bobbed up and down, her hands clasped together. “I don’t want to miss anything!” She spread her arms wide. Well, as wide as she could in the enclosed space.

The minute we left the ground, incredible new scenes were revealed to us. The bird’s-eye view was so completely different from our earthbound one, it was as if they were two worlds.

First, we traveled over the city, where the orderly rooftops and roads were at odds with the tumbled edge of the shoreline. Then, we zoomed off over the coast, where the water was a dozen shades of blue, just as the forest was a dozen shades of green. Riding low over the waves, we could see ruffle after ruffle of white curling water rushing in to shore. To our left, the view was endless azure water. To our right, the sweep of land.

We were heading for a place called the Blue Hole. I’d read about it online, preparing for the trip and our pilot repeated some of the same facts now. The ocean sinkhole was, at one thousand feet in diameter, the largest in the world. It would take us a while to get to it, since it was sixty miles east. I thought it sounded like one of the wonders of the world — I mean, imagine it! Indeed, I learned now it had been declared a national monument in 1999.

Flying low over the water, the helicopter cast a shadow on the tiny islands called cayes as we passed and once the pilot pointed out a pair of dolphins racing along beneath us.

“Oh, wow!” I said, pressing my nose closer to the glass. I knew I sounded like a little kid, but I felt like one.

In the seat before me, Elaine seemed as revved up as I was. We both had the same forward-leaning posture and barely contained excitement.

Mart said something, but I wasn’t tuned in enough to hear it. Jen answered him in a nonchalant tone that didn’t fool me. You couldn’t be up here in this clear air on a bright afternoon, zipping over that mosaic of blues and whites, and be nonchalant.

“I wish Dan were here,” Elaine said. “He would have loved this.”

“Yeah, he really missed out,” I agreed without taking my eyes off the swiftly moving scenery. “Why didn’t he come?”

“He said he had enough of helicopters when he flew them back in the service,” she said.

Then I remembered the tattoos on Dan’s hands. Navy anchors, faded to a bluish green over the years.

“I said to him, ‘But this will be different. Over the water and then over the forest.’ But, no.” She paused. “He can be stubborn,” she said and I think we all knew that must be an understatement.

“Chance of a lifetime,” Jen said, sounding a bit less casual. Then, she gave a gasp. “Look!”

And off in the distance, rapidly approaching was deeper, darker bluer blue, perfectly circular and surrounded by reef.

“Look at that!”

“Check it out!”

Mart and Jen spoke at once and our pilot chuckled. He must hear a lot of exclamations, I thought, and wondered if this view, this job could ever become monotonous. When we landed, I’d ask him. Squeeze in an interview. It would make a terrific blog entry.

The helicopter took a turn around the Blue Hole while we ogled at the windows. I snapped off a few pictures but they would never be adequate.

Gazing down into the navy blue of the hole, I asked, “How deep is it?”

“More than four hundred feet,” the pilot told us as we took another lap around its perimeter.

Then, we were moving away from the wonder, heading inland.

I relaxed a little, sitting back in my seat. Mart put a hand on my knee.

“That was really something,” he said, giving his head a shake. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What do you suppose caused it?” I asked our guide. “A meteor? Is it a crater?”

He shook his head. “It’s a collapsed cavern.”

“When did it collapse?” I wondered and he laughed.

“You have me there, miss. That answer, I do not have.”

“Asking a lot of questions is her job,” Elaine told him.

“Would you have time for an interview when we land?” I pushed Elaine’s opening remark into a request of my own.

He nodded. “Certainly.”

Looking out the window as we flew over the forest I noticed occasional breaks in the canopy of the trees. Down below us, squiggles of trails meandered here and there, like disorderly spider webs. If paths like those wove from cave to cave, connecting the underground cavities, how easy it would be for smugglers to move goods undetected, I thought.

Once we were back on earth, the others were more than willing to sit with the pilot and me over a cool drink for a bit of conversation. I took a bunch of notes, of course, and promised to send him a copy of the magazine when the article appeared.

Driving us back to the resort, Mart said, “I think you were right, Elaine. Dan should have come along.”

“Yes, I mean, it’s not like he couldn’t afford it,” Jen said, surprising me with her candor.

Elaine gave a chuckle. Over our time in Belize, her fair skin had tanned up a bit and the look suited her. Today, she was wearing a white top with bold floral splotches of color. Her capris were bordered in the same pattern. It was a casual outfit, but I had no doubt it would have cost me a day’s pay.

“Oh, yes, we could have afforded it,” she said now and I noticed her choice of pronoun. “But sometimes a woman has to give a man his head.” She laughed again. “Poor Clark. My darling decided to tag along with him this afternoon and, well,” she broke off, seemed to think about the wisdom of continuing and then hurried on, “when a major benefactor wants to tag along — ”

“He tags along,” we all chorused.

Mart and I exchanged a look when he took his eyes off the road just long enough to frown over at me for an instant.

“What was Clark doing?” I asked. “Must have been exciting.”

“More exciting than our ride?” Elaine scoffed. “I don’t think so.” She turned her head to look out the window. “Some museum or other, I think.”

We hadn’t seen too many museums on this trip, so I was sure Elaine had the information wrong. Clark’s last free afternoon to pursue his own interests — whatever they might be — and he was saddled with the blustery old rich guy. That would surely slow him down.

“How did you two meet?” I asked Elaine to make conversation.

Elaine blinked, as if trying to recall. I suppose when you’ve been married years and years that memory dims.

“We met at a peace rally back in the swinging sixties.”

“You have got to be joking,” Jen said, incredulous.

“You don’t need to sound that surprised,” Elaine said. “Dan came back from the war ready to work for peace. That happened to lots of our boys. As for me,” she shrugged. “I considered it the very best of Good Works.” Her tone gave the words capital letters.

“What do you mean?” I asked as Mart slowed the car for a series of potholes.

“Oh, back in the day, we debutantes did all sorts of community-minded things. Debs still do, of course.”

“Debutante.” Jen said the word as if it were encased in filmy pink tulle. Had we unearthed the romantic dreamy part of her personality?

“Yes. Daddy expected it and Mama insisted. I’ve got the pictures at home. Long, white gown. Long, white gloves.”

Jen blinked now, looking at the tiny older woman. Seeing the younger version? I know I could.

“You can imagine what they thought of Dan!” Elaine said, smiling in memory. “Such a cliché we were — the rich girl and the boy from the wrong side of the tracks.”

“Sounds like a romance novel to me,” I said, a sucker for a great story. I made a note to check the magazine’s archives for their original wedding announcement. Throughout this trip, I’d tried for a few quiet moments with each trekker, to get their story, so my articles would show personalities. This could prove to be a terrific angle for theirs.

Elaine turned her gaze on me. “That’s what I always thought, too. Just like a novel. I’ve read my fair share of those books over the years and my favorite ones always had the couple starting out as imposters. You know, pretending to be engaged for her high school reunion or so he can inherit his auntie’s estate.”

“And then they fall in love for real,” Jen finished, nodding her head.

“Exactly!” Elaine said. “Well, that was us. I looked like just another college girl working for social justice and Dan looked like he’d been walking picket lines for years. Turns out we were both at our first event.”

“First of many?” Mart asked.

“Oh, yes. We don’t march in circles too much anymore, but we’ve always tried to do Mama’s Good Works with Daddy’s money.” She laughed again.

“You’ve been very successful,” Mart said. “The whole city owes you two debts of appreciation.” He turned the car onto the road leading to the resort.

“Thank you, Mart.” Elaine leaned over the seat to pat his shoulder. “Sometimes you’re not sure if you’ve made the right choices in life. Dan struggled with joining Daddy’s business — and God knows I struggled, too.”

She turned her head to look out the window. None of us said anything, waiting for her to finish her thought.

“But it all comes right in the end,” she said with finality.

“Happily ever after,” Jen pronounced and there was only a hint of underlying cynicism to her voice.

“Something like that,” Elaine said as Mart wheeled into a parking space near the door of the main facility.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Mart suggested. He indicated my notebook, still open on my lap. “Do you want to come or do you have work to do?”

“I think I’ve got time for a snack,” I said, taking a peek at my watch. “It’s hours until the farewell dinner.”

Mart shut the car door behind me and slipped an arm around my waist. “I’d really like to skip that obligation,” he said, lips close to my ear, “and take you off to that big bed in your tiny cabana.”

That tingly feeling of excitement began somewhere deep inside me as memories of the night before flooded my brain.

Looking into the dark pools of his eyes, I said, “We can always leave early.”

• • •

That night, Mart and I slipped away from the noisy dining room as planned and walked along the quiet, sandy beach. The sky was gray with twilight and palm trees swayed in the tropical breeze. It was an idyllic end to our day.

“All in all,” Mart said, “it’s been an eventful week.”

Thinking back, I had to agree. “Do you think Clark made any progress trying to locate Tommy Mendoza’s killer? It doesn’t seem as if he’d been trying very hard. He’s been around the group too much to go off searching for clues.”

“Yeah,” Mart agreed, but in an offhand way. As if, I hoped, those weren’t the events he was referring to.

The light was fading and the moon had come out and it was all terribly romantic.

I began to hum a tune from some old 1940s musical, about moonlight and old lace and true love. Instead of groaning or laughing, Mart started to sing, his deep baritone a fine complement to my soprano warbling. When he ended the tune by whirling me around, dipping me low in his arms with the last note, I could have died from sheer delight. Instead, I pointed a toe in what I hoped was a graceful fashion and draped my arms at my sides.

Mart dropped a kiss on my upturned chin then lifted me back to my feet. “You like old movies?” he questioned the obvious, still holding my hands.

“Very much so!”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Musical?”

“All time. All-time favorite.”

“Oh, well, my all-time favorite is
Rear Window
. But there’s no singing in that,” I pointed out.

“There’s plenty of mystery, though.”

“Yes. I love a mystery,” I confessed with relish.

Mart cringed. “And here you are in the middle of a real one.”

“Drug trafficking, animal smuggling, Tommy Mendoza’s murder,” I said as Mart sighed. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear more stories about him from the other employees at the zoo.”

“Oh, I heard plenty. But I heard them all after his murder. Everyone was just a Monday morning quarterback.”

“What do you mean?”

“They always knew he was trouble. His criminal characteristics were obvious. They’d always suspected. That sort of thing.”

“But nothing definite? No one ever actually saw him with anyone or anything?” I clarified.

Mart nodded. “To the best of my knowledge, all the evidence against the guy is circumstantial. Still, he’s dead now. Shot in the head and left tangled, on display.”

We walked on, then turned and began retracing our steps back to the resort. My mind was working on this puzzle as if it were a word game — thinking, pondering, and finally just guessing. At last, I gave voice to the thought I’d just had.

“Wouldn’t it be horrible if Clark was actually in on all this? Taking over where Tommy left off instead of helping the feds or trying to find Tommy’s killer?”

“I know I said Clark would do anything for a buck, Allison, but he’d never do that.” In the soft shadows of the evening, I couldn’t quite read Mart’s expression when he repeated the words. “No, Clark would never do that.”

Chapter Twenty