Gray Ghost (The Bill Dix Detective Series Book 1) (2 page)

Petersen noticed the small, single lane road adjacent to the airport was the only way in or out. It was guarded by two Royal Bahamian police officers who were heavily armed. An older model Jeep Wrangler carrying three more officers sped by them headed in the direction of the tarmac.

The detectives climbed into the weathered minivan.

Petersen said, “Looks like someone might be headed for a bad day.” He watched the Jeep go straight, make a hard right, and motor directly toward the downed plane Dix had noticed earlier. He guessed the plane had gone down not long before their arrival, and, as Dix had surmised, no one had had an opportunity to pillage it yet because it was still daylight.

“
Those boys are going to have a field day with that one,” Dix said.

Almost immediately after the Bahamian officers exited the vehicle and surveyed the airplane, two of the men gave each other high fives. The third man, who seemed to be in charge, said something to them. Dix had noticed the guy’s confident way of carrying himself. Both men stopped their small celebration and began their inspection.

The movement caught the attention of the van driver. He made eye contact with someone in the direction of the downed plane who returned a subtle movement with his head and neck. Dix and Petersen were pushed back into their seats as the force of the driver stepping on the accelerator caught them off guard. They exchanged glances.

“
I don’t give a damn what’s happening.” Dix straightened in his seat. “I just want to get to Turtle Cay Lodge in one piece.”

Petersen nodded his agreement as the van roared out onto the main road.

CHAPTER THREE

The Turtle Cay Lodge was nestled among native palms, just footsteps from the clear, calm waters of Elliott Creek. The brochure had insisted prehistoric tarpon could be enticed to inhale a well-placed cockroach fly right from the dock in front of the lodge.

According to what Dix had read on the website, previous guests reported the food was terrific, the service was impeccable, and the fly fishing was spectacular. The place had opened in 1995 and barely made enough money to pay the bills the first season. Now, seventeen years later, the lodge had a long waiting list of folks anxious to experience what the advertising called, “Heaven on Earth.” In fact, if it weren’t for Dix’s connections, Petersen would have had to wait two more years to get this dream shot at a trophy bonefish on a fly tied by his own hand.

Dix guessed the Bahamian people usually enjoyed life to the fullest. However, his detective intuition and the scene at the airport told him something wasn’t quite right. As the minivan finally slowed and they came to a stop along Elliot Creek, the driver turned and grinned. “Welcome to the finest lodge in the Bahamas, mon.”

The main lodge and adjacent cottages looked recently remodeled. They had tiled roofs and were surrounded by Bahamian pine trees and thatch palms. Flagstone paths led to the main lodge, the cottages, and out toward the water.

“
Is there always this much police activity on the island?” Dix asked.

The driver didn’t respond, so he continued, “We saw quite a few officers, and they all seemed to be in a hurry.”

“
Well, mon, you came a long way and spent a bunch of money to catch da bonefish, tarpon, and permit. Island politics shouldn’t spoil your vacation.”

Dix raised an eyebrow. “We’re interested. Why don’t you try us?” He never got his answer because another man and woman approached.

“
Oh look, here comes Martin, the owner of this grand place.”

The couple came to the side of the van, and the man they assumed was Martin looked grim and seemed preoccupied. Dix thought it was strange because he figured the amount of money he and Petersen had paid should have kept the guy quite happy.

“
Gentlemen, welcome to Turtle Cay Lodge. It’s a pleasure to have you here.” His cell phone rang. “Business call. Please make yourselves at home.” He motioned to the small thatched buildings along the south side of the lodge while he answered the phone and walked away.

Dix looked at the cottages and noticed air conditioning units protruding from the windows and hammocks swaying between palms.

The woman smiled and extended her hand to Petersen. “Hello, I’m Suzanne Hamilton, but you can call me Suzie. My husband’s name is Martin.” She gestured toward the man who’d greeted them moments earlier.

Dix shook her hand and couldn’t hide his sheepish grin. “Mrs. Hamilton, it is a pleasure to see you again. You’re even prettier than when I saw you last.”

She giggled and blushed slightly. Then she embraced him. “Bill, you always knew how to charm the ladies.”

Dix turned to Petersen. “I guess I forgot to tell you. Steve, meet my college sweetheart, Suzie.” Before long, Dix regaled his partner with the story of how they’d met. He and Suzie reminisced about their university days.

Petersen listened and smiled and laughed at the appropriate time.

After a few minutes, Dix grinned. “How else did you think we were able to get a spot at the lodge two years sooner than the established waiting list?”

Petersen laughed. “Whatever you had to do to get us here was well worth it.”

“
It was nothing.” Dix winked at Suzie. “I just had to make a few phone calls and pull a few strings.”

Suzie said playfully, “Don’t let him fool you, Steve. I owed him big time for helping my aunt who lives in Miami.”

Dix thought to himself.
Looks like she’s trying to appear happy. I know her well enough to sense something’s bothering her. If the bastard isn’t treating her right, I’ll kill him.

Just then, the monstrous silver back of a fish with a black dorsal fin emerged out of the water about thirty yards off the main dock. It looked like a mini-submarine. Dix had never seen anything like it before. They all stopped talking and the men both said in unison, “What is that?”

Suzie smiled, “Oh, that. It’s an adult tarpon, probably around two hundred pounds.”

Dix and Petersen looked at each other, astounded.

Suzie laughed. “You might even catch one. As long as we can find two more guides.”

With that, Suzie showed the detectives to their cottage and told them the meal schedule. She pointed out the mini refrigerators, fully stocked with beer.

“
Perfect.” Dix hugged her again before she left.

Dix walked around the room looking in drawers and flipping switches to see what they did. The bathroom had marble flooring and a walk-in shower. He noticed there was no television or telephone. Two double beds, each covered with colorful island print spreads, seemed cozy with oak frames and white canopies overhead. Despite being small, the room felt classy and comfortable.

After showering, putting on clean clothes, and powering down three Red Stripe beers each, the room-to-room intercom system buzzed. Dix pushed the button.

A voice with a decidedly Caribbean accent announced, “Your presence is requested at the main house for dinner with the Hamiltons.”

They’d expected to eat in the huge kitchen and dining area with the other guests, so the invitation came as a surprise.

As they walked over to the main house, Dix asked, “Why do you think our guides aren’t available. Maybe they’re sick.”

Petersen grinned. “Maybe they were murdered.”

Dix shook his head. “No shop talk. They’re probably just sick.”

The guys arrived in the private dining room to find Martin, dressed in a neatly pressed print shirt, khaki shorts, and flip-flops. He waited for them at a massive oak table, looking relaxed and slightly intoxicated.

Martin smiled. “Well, you want the good news or the bad?”

Dix spoke first. “I like to hear bad news first. It makes the good news, even when it isn’t that great, seem better.”

“
And I like the good news first. That way the bad news doesn’t seem so bad,” said Petersen.

“
How about I tell them?” Suzie suggested as she joined them. She looked stunning in a long, light green floral-print dress. But her eyes appeared to be red and puffy as though she’d been crying.

Dix clenched his jaw.
Martin better not have put a hand on her or I’m going to personally kick the crap out of him.

Martin looked at this wife. “No. I’ll do it. My closest friends, and the best two guides on Andros Island, Sean and Preston Smith, were found dead just offshore this morning. They’d been missing for three days. Suzie and I were questioned at length by Superintendent Charles Taylor from the Royal Bahamian Police Department.” Suzie began to cry and Martin put his arm around her as tears ran down his own cheeks.

Their pain was hard to watch, especially since Dix and Petersen had lost far too many close friends and knew the terrible feeling that came with it.

“
Martin, I am sorry for your loss,” Dix said. “We had no idea. Otherwise, we’d have canceled the trip.” His beer buzz disappeared immediately.

Suzie sniffled. “It’s okay guys. You couldn’t have known about any of this. It happened so suddenly. We know how much this trip means to you, and we want you to have a fantastic time. Martin has been trying to replace your guides since you arrived.”

Of all the dumb luck.
Dix had been amazed by the beauty of the island and was captivated by the atmosphere of the lodge. Now he felt like he was plunked in the middle of another criminal investigation. He wanted to help Suzie. It really bothered him to see her suffer.

Petersen spoke for both of them. “Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, we can come back here another time. Maybe things need to calm down a bit.”

Martin replied, “Nonsense. Sean and Preston would have wanted you two to experience this opportunity in their honor. I have secured the services of two well-qualified Bahamian guides for you.” He’d stopped crying and seemed more in control of his emotions. Suzie still wept quietly.

“
Fellas.” Dix motioned to the outside. “I’ve lost my appetite. Let’s go out for some fresh air.” He patted his chest pocket. “Maybe we can see if these authentic Cohibas were worth fifteen dollars each.”

Shortly after they left the main house, Dix noticed a red Subaru station wagon speeding toward the lodge. It was occupied by two men. The vehicle leaned heavily to the right, almost hitting the ground on the passenger side, and it had some minor front end damage.

As the car passed, Dix saw it was also missing a rear bumper. In Miami, this type of vehicle screamed, “Please pull me over.” In the Bahamas, it was known as a “work vehicle.”

The Subaru skidded to a stop a few feet beyond where they stood, and the driver quickly exited. He was handsome, probably in his forties, with a dark complexion, about Petersen’s height, but leaner. He immediately approached the men.

“
Hello, mon. My name is Wilfred Jones. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He spoke with a subtle British accent.

Dix and Petersen shook Wilfred’s hand.

Their attention was drawn back to the vehicle. The distinctive tilt had Dix curious about the person who occupied the passenger seat.

A loud creaking noise emanated from the beat-up car as the door swung open. One leg emerged, and the whole vehicle began to clank and bang. As the man stepped out, Dix could almost hear the car whisper, “Thank you.” Dix figured the guy was about six feet six inches tall, with a muscular build, probably weighed over 250 pounds. He seemed to be a local, and bore a faint resemblance to Wilfred.

“
Wow!” exclaimed Petersen.

“
I hope this guy’s a friend of Wilfred’s,” said Dix.

The passenger slowly and deliberately walked over to them, said something to Wilfred neither American could understand. He spoke in the thick British dialect of the island. Then the new arrival extended his massive hand to Petersen.

“
Nice to meet you, sir. My name is Bobby Jones, but you can call me Bubba.”

Bubba shook Petersen’s hand, and then Dix’s. Dix wondered if he’d ever regain feeling after the vise-like shake.

Martin said, “Gentlemen, these are two more of my friends. They’re experienced fishing guides. I have asked them to take you on the world’s greatest saltwater fly fishing adventure. They’ve guided for me as side work from time to time over the years.”

Dix reached into his pocket and offered each of them a cigar, which they both accepted. As they lighted up, Dix asked, “Which species of fish do you think is the most difficult to catch?”

They answered in unison, “Permit, mon.”

Dix smiled. “Then let’s go after them last. How about it, Petersen?”

“
Let me finish this cigar and see if Martin has some whiskey. Then I’ll agree.” The Jones brothers and the detectives discussed arrangements for the next day’s trip while they puffed away.

“
We’ll pick you up at the lodge dock at eight in the morning,” said Will. “Bubba and I will take you to Fresh Creek first, then explore the rest of the east side of Andros.”

Dix and Petersen shared a grin. “That sounds awesome,” replied Petersen.