White Sand Blues Read online

  Simon got my bags out of the back and put them on the driveway. “You have the day off tomorrow to get yourself settled. I’m the regular day-shift driver. I’ll pick you up at seven Wednesday morning for your first shift. You’ll meet Gord, our boss, then and do all the paperwork. Be on time. Gord expects everyone to be at work on time.”

  The woman laughed. “Foreigners and their strange ways.”

  “You need to get yourself a local plan for your phone,” Simon said. “You’ll be notified if the ambulance is busy and can’t give you a ride in. You’ll have to make your own way to the office. Any taxi driver will know where we are. You pay for that. Have a nice evening.”

  “Sure. You too. Uh, thanks.”

  He got back into the ambulance and drove away.

  The word taciturn had been invented to describe Simon. He’d scarcely said two words since picking me up at the airport and dropping me off here. Other than to issue orders.

  Perhaps he thought a demonstration of the duties of my new job would be better than a lecture.

  He was right about that.

  I held out my hand to the woman. “I’m Ashley.”

  “Darlene. I’m the day manager. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll show you to your room. Do you need help with your bags?”

  I had one wheelie suitcase, a backpack and a computer bag. “I can manage.”

  Darlene gave me a slight bow and led the way. She was an attractive woman in her early thirties. Around my age. Her smooth skin was the color of midnight. She had sparkling white teeth and warm, friendly eyes. Her curly hair was shaved almost to the scalp on one side and tied into tight braids on the other. She wore beaded earrings that clattered like wind chimes as she moved.

  My senses were overwhelmed as we walked through the grounds. I scarcely knew where to look first. The white buildings, the blue sky, the yellow sun, the purple flowers. Back home in Ontario, it was January. Filthy snow, brown slush, gray skies, black and brown clothes on scowling people.

  Darlene paused when we came to a gap between the buildings. A covered patio contained tables and wicker chairs with red cushions. Lounge chairs surrounded a huge swimming pool. The white-sand beach was dotted with red umbrellas. Blue water stretched to the horizon.

  “Wow,” I said. “Do you ever get tired of looking at this view?”

  She smiled at me. “Never. I went to university in Toronto. I got a good education. I hated every minute of it. I don’t know how human beings can live in that weather. I couldn’t wait to get back to the island. I hope you learn to love it as much as I do.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  “Some don’t,” she said. “It can seem very confining. It’s only sixty square kilometers in area. Four kilometers wide at the thickest place.

  I wiped sweat off my forehead. “Is it always this hot?”

  She laughed heartily. “Honey, it’s winter. Just you wait till summer. Come on. You’re in room 110. It’s over there.”

  “Can I make a phone call? I told my parents I’d call them when I arrived.”

  “Yup, but it’ll be expensive.” She eyed my computer bag. “You have free Wi-Fi in your room.”

  “My mom doesn’t trust the Internet. She thinks it still needs to have the kinks worked out.”

  Darlene handed me the key and left me to unpack. My accommodations were more like an apartment than a hotel room. I had one bedroom, a galley kitchen and a living room with a pull-out couch. The rooms were spacious and bright. The art and furniture were mass-produced but clean and new.

  My room was on the ground floor. The private patio had white walls, a pretty iron gate and an abundance of strongly scented flowers. I dropped into one of the patio chairs and let out a long breath.

  A small lizard watched me. His tail swished from side to side. His tongue flicked.

  “Hi,” I said. He disappeared through a crack in the wall.

  * * *

  My name is Ashley Grant. I’m thirty-three years old. I was born and raised in Prince Edward County, Ontario, and I went to college in Toronto. I’m a paramedic. I’ve come to the Victoria and Albert Islands on a one-year contract.

  Before I left, my eldest sister, Joanne, dragged me out to get a new wardrobe for the island. She likes to shop at stores on Bloor Street in Toronto. I’d been broke before the shopping trip. After it, I was truly penniless.

  I’d gone to a lot of trouble to wear the right clothes and accessories on the plane. I’d expected that Gord O’Malley, my new boss, would meet me. He hadn’t. And Simon didn’t seem to much care what I’d been wearing.

  Simon had been waiting for me at the airport. He’d worn a uniform, so I had no trouble picking him out. We shook hands. Then he led the way to my transportation—a bright-red ambulance. The truck wasn’t even in gear when he got a call. A VSA floating off the beach by the Club Louisa Hotel. VSA means “vital signs absent.” People have been known to recover after appearing to be dead, so Simon put the siren on. We sped through the streets. I hung on as everything passed in a blur of brilliant color.

  Then the beach and the recovery.

  Lost sandals and a ruined dress.

  Nice digs though.

  I closed my eyes and let the hot sun soak into my face. It felt so good.

  People walked past my patio, and a woman laughed. I struggled to my feet. I had a duty to do before I got too comfortable.

  I phoned home.

  My mom answered so quickly, she must have been hovering by the phone. I’m the youngest of four daughters. Mom worries about me. Dad worries too, but he pretends not to.

  I’m the only one of the sisters not married. I have ten nieces and nephews. You’d think that would be enough sons-in-law and grandchildren, but my mom still has hopes for me.

  Heck, I still have hopes for me.

  I shoved that thought away.

  “I’m here, Mom. Safe and sound.”

  “That was quick,” she said.

  I’d landed less than two hours ago. Customs and immigration had been fast and efficient. I’d been afraid I’d have to explain to Mom what had taken so long.

  “Did you remember your sunscreen? The TV says it’s twenty-five degrees and sunny in Miami today.”

  I wasn’t in Miami, and it was closer to thirty-five here. But Mom’s range of experience falls between Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she grew up (cold) and Miami, Florida, where her sister lives (hot).

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Did you meet your boss?”

  “He sent a driver to pick me up. He was very nice, Mom.”

  “Nice?” I heard the lift in her voice. “Nice as in nice?”

  “Nice as in older and married.” Simon wore a shiny gold wedding ring. He had to be close to fifty. He was missing several teeth.

  “Did you hear from John before you left?” Hope springs eternal in my mother’s breast.

  “No, I did not hear from John. If I had, I’d have slammed down the phone. Don’t you dare forget I told you not to tell him where I’ve gone.”

  She sniffed. “I won’t forget. I’m sure there are plenty of nice young men on staff for you to meet. Here’s your father.”

  She passed the phone over.

  “You’ve met a man already?”

  “No, Dad. I was telling Mom my driver is nice.”

  Dad chatted on about the amount of snow that had fallen that day. The company he’d hired to plow the driveway was doing a very poor job of it.

  Dad is sixty-five and overweight. He doesn’t get much exercise other than clicking the TV remote and hefting beer bottles. Mom finally convinced him to hire someone to clear the snow. Needless to say, the guy concerned couldn’t do the job to Dad’s satisfaction. Dad had to go out and finish it properly.

  I warned him about all the calls we get in winter as a result of out-of-shape men shoveling snow. He grunted. Heart attacks were things that happened to other people.

  “Bye, Dad. Take care.”

  “Love you, honey bunch,” he said
.

  I rummaged in my suitcase. I found a pair of shorts, a tank top and beach sandals. I went out to explore my new home.

  FOUR

  I ENJOYED WALKING along the gorgeous beach and exploring the hotel grounds. When I got back to my room, I unpacked and settled in. This would be my home for a year.

  The salary was less than I’d earned in Ontario, but the room came with the job. It was much nicer than I’d expected.

  I’d taken the job on impulse. My sisters said I was running away, and I hadn’t argued with them.

  I was running away.

  I’d been a paramedic for a town on the outskirts of Toronto. I’d lived with my long-time boyfriend, John. We’d had plans to marry one day.

  One night I took sick mid-shift. Nothing too serious, but I was sent home.

  I found John in bed with the wife of his best friend.

  I yelled and screamed. I threw things. The best friend’s wife fled. John told me it was nothing. I yelled and screamed and threw more things.

  I told John to get out of our house.

  Unfortunately, John had bought the house before we met.

  So I was the one who ended up on the street. I could have gone to my parents or to one of my sisters. But I couldn’t face the humiliation. I called my best friend, Diana. Diana and I had met at work. She’d quit to take a position in the Victoria and Albert Islands. She was due to leave in two weeks’ time. I was going to miss her very much.

  I arrived at her place in the middle of the night, red-eyed and weeping. She hugged me, and she took me in. She said I could stay until she left for the islands.

  Diana broke her leg skiing the next day.

  It was a bad break. She’d be laid up for a long time. She had to give up the new job.

  We had the idea at the same time. I could take her place. We had the same qualifications.

  And here I was. On Grand Victoria Island, the largest in the Victoria and Albert chain of the western Caribbean.

  * * *

  I wanted to be on my own that night, to think about all the changes in my life that had happened so quickly. I didn’t want to meet with Sally at Club Louisa. But I’d said I would, so I called her. We arranged to meet for dinner at the restaurant in her hotel. I took a shower and washed the salt out of my hair. I then pulled out one of my new sundresses. Regretting the loss of the nice sandals, I slipped on a pair of colorful sneakers.

  I asked Darlene how to call a cab. She did it for me. The driver gave me his card. His name was Harry. He was, according to him, the best taxi driver on the island.

  The restaurant at the Club Louisa was open to the warm night air. I could hear the steady sound of surf in the distance. People laughed and chatted over drinks at the poolside bar. Candles flickered on white tablecloths. Sally had arrived before me. She jumped to her feet and squealed as I approached. She gave me a huge hug. “This is so great. Small world, eh?”

  “It is nice to see you, Sally. I’m sorry about…about what happened.” I took my seat.

  She sat down and lifted a bottle out of the cooler on the table. “Wine?”

  “Sure.”

  Sally filled my glass and topped up her own. It was a very expensive bottle.

  “Cheers.” I took a sip. Good too. I shifted in my seat, feeling awkward. Sally’s father had died only hours earlier. I didn’t know if she’d want to talk about him. I decided to let her take the lead.

  She asked me what I’d been up to since leaving high school. I told her briefly, leaving out the part about my breakup with John. I could tell she didn’t much care. Fair enough. We were just making small talk.

  “I did a business degree at U of T,” she said. “I help my dad with the business.”

  “Business?” Back in high school, Sally had been a small-town kid like me and all the others. She’d changed a lot in the past fifteen years. Her blond hair was carefully cut and colored. Her manicure and pedicure were fresh. Her dress and shoes were fashionable and expensive. An emerald ring shone on her right hand, and matching earrings were in her ears. She looked as though she’d come into money. A lot of money.

  “You know my mom and dad ran a small computer shop?” she said.

  I nodded.

  “Dad had this really great idea for moving money around on the Internet. He sold the idea to a big company for a heck of a lot of money. I think the idea was Mom’s, but she let Dad take the credit.” A shadow crossed Sally’s face. “Mom always did that. Anyway, he used some of the money to start up another company, and I work there.”

  “Where’s your mother now? Did they get divorced?”

  She blinked rapidly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She glanced away. She wiped at her eyes. “Mom died five years ago. Dad took it hard. Really hard. He was lonely and sad and lost. And then she moved in.”

  “Your stepmother.”

  “My father’s wife. Christina.” Sally almost spit out the word. “They met at the opera. Of all things. One of my aunts dragged Dad to a gala opening night in Toronto. You’ve seen Christina. You think a woman like that would have bothered with Dad if he wasn’t rich?” She took a deep drink of her wine. I said nothing.

  “She married him for his money. She killed him for his money.”

  “That’s a strong accusation, Sally,” I said.

  “It’s true.”

  “Are you ready to order?” A smiling waitress stood by our table.

  “No,” Sally snapped.

  “Can you give us a few more minutes, please?” I asked. The waitress topped up our wineglasses and left. I opened my menu. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything,” Sally said. “I wouldn’t come here if they couldn’t cook. Last night I had the grilled snapper. I’m going to have it again.” She shoved her unopened menu aside.

  “Have you spoken to the police?” I asked.

  “They sent someone around. He asked the usual questions. When we’d seen Dad last. If he’d said he was going boating. If he’d seemed depressed. Christina did her ‘poor widow’ act, and the cop fussed over her. Dad and I were supposed to be having breakfast together this morning. He didn’t show. I told the cop that, but I don’t think he cared. He was just going through the motions.”

  “These islands are still owned by Britain,” I said. “I’m sure the police are competent.”

  “The cop was Canadian. Probably in a hurry to get back to the beach. I don’t just think Christina killed my dad, Ashley. I know she did. I need you to help me prove it.”

  “Me? I only got here today. I don’t know anyone. I haven’t been anywhere other than the hospital and my hotel.”

  She put her wineglass down and looked at me. Her eyes were wet. “You’re the only person I know here, Ashley. Other than her, of course.”

  I let out a long sigh. Now I remembered why Ashley and I hadn’t been close in school. She was strong-willed and determined. When she wanted something, she wouldn’t quit until she got it. Whether it was a place on the ball team, an A in history or a date with a boy. Nothing wrong with that, but it didn’t make her easy to get along with. “Tell me what you think happened.”

  “Let’s order first. Then we won’t be interrupted.” She waved. The waitress arrived and took our orders.

  A quick look at the menu showed me prices that were way out of my range. Sally had invited me to dinner. I hoped she’d be picking up the bill. In case she wasn’t, I asked for the cheapest thing they had.

  Sally took a deep breath. “Dad suggested I come on this vacation. She didn’t want me.”

  That seemed natural enough to me. Not many new wives would want a resentful adult child coming along on a romantic Caribbean holiday.

  “She put on the loving-wife act when I was around.” Sally leaned across the table. I leaned forward also.

  All around us people were chatting and laughing. The surf murmured against the shore. The night breeze was light and fresh. Best of all, no mosquitoes!

  “I saw
her acting weird yesterday,” Sally said.

  “What was she doing?”

  “She snuck off in the afternoon. I thought she looked shifty, so I followed. She met a guy.”

  “A guy? What sort of guy?”

  “The sort of guy you meet when you’re up to no good. She’d rented a cabana.”

  All the beaches on the Victoria and Albert Islands are public. Hotels put out chairs for their own guests. Earlier I’d seen some tented huts. They’d be for people who wanted complete protection from the sun. The shelters came with a door that could be closed for those who wanted privacy.

  “She took one at the far end of the hotel’s stretch of beach,” Sally said. “She went inside. A few minutes later a man followed her. He closed the drapes behind him.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Yup.”

  “What did this guy look like?”

  “Handsome. Buff. Tanned. Younger than her.”

  I let out a long breath. “That can’t be good.”

  “Not for my poor dad. He was golfing. She knew he’d be gone for hours.”

  “Did you say anything to your father?”

  Sally threw up her hands. “I wish I had, Ashley! He might still be alive.”

  “Has anything like that happened before?”

  “I don’t know for sure. My room is next door to theirs. A couple of nights ago they had a big fight. I heard them yelling at each other.”

  “About what?”

  “I couldn’t make it all out. Dad said she had to stop making a fool of herself. He threatened to divorce her.”

  “Excuse me, ladies.”

  I jumped. The waitress put plates on the table. She topped up Sally’s wineglass again and left us.

  “Your dad drowned,” I said. “The ocean seemed calm enough to me. Are there bad undercurrents out there?” I hadn’t seen any signs warning of unsafe waters. “Was he not a good swimmer?”

  “He could swim okay. But he wasn’t a keen swimmer. Dad didn’t get any exercise. Other than the occasional game of golf. My mom used to nag him about that all the time.” Sally smiled sadly at the memory. “Dad and I always met for breakfast at seven. Christina likes to sleep in. This morning he didn’t show.” Sally choked back a sob. “Dad wasn’t the sort to go for a morning swim. Something, or someone, made him go out there.”