Chapter 37

Below the helicopter, the Caribbean Sea was a sparkling vision of blue and green shades, from pale aqua to emerald. There were white caps here and there, rippling across the surface, and they were flying low enough to clearly see the fishing boats and pleasure craft.

“There, Joe, look!” yelled Will. “Check the map, northeast!”

Joe could barely hear Will over the sound of the rotor blades. He adjusted his headphones, cupping his ears more securely. They were passing over a very large, crescent shaped island, which encircled an innumerable amount of small isles to its left. It was very developed, lots of pastel stucco homes.

“Not here. Ahead of us, to the left,” said Will.

Joe could hear him better now.

“The small outer islands in a string, running north and south. See that one with all the boats and buildings? That’s Green Turtle Cay. Just past it…there’s Manjack …mostly empty. Do you see it?”

Joe was following the names on the map and looking in the direction Will was pointing. He saw the island named Manjack Cay, and nodded.

“Okay,” Will said, “There’s Castle Cay, straight ahead of us, northeast of Manjack. It’s the furthest out-island. See it?”

“Yes, I do,” said Joe.

The island was shaped like an elongated triangle from north to south. The western side of Castle Cay, which they were approaching, stuck out toward them in a wide V shape. There was a picture-perfect beach ringed with palm trees to the right of the V point, and a long boat dock. A house sat up high in the dense foliage.

The chopper climbed, scaling a high, rocky ridge that ran the length of Castle Cay. As they cleared the top, a broad terrace appeared below, dropping off to a long, nearly straight edge sliced against the deep, cobalt blue ocean.

“Well, Buddy,” said Will, pointing. “You’re in luck! There’s an airstrip over there. We can land, if you want.”

“Can we get some pictures of the island first and then come back and land here?” asked Joe.

“Sure. The camera’s all set to go. Hang on, while I circle the place.”

There were a couple of small buildings near the airstrip, and a rock/cement wall and pier. Joe could see the waves, rolling against the land in a long, jagged line of white foam. As they flew south, he noticed a small indentation, a beach, protected by a reef. The far southern end of the island tapered off into a string of shoals.

As they came back, heading north up the Caribbean side on the west, there was a great deal more foliage. They passed the ridge house again. It was shuttered and deserted, a blind sentinel above a gorgeous beach. The long dock stretched out over shallows so clear they could see schools of fish.

“Even you could catch one here, old Buddy,” said Will.

Joe laughed, shaking his head.

Ahead, around the bend, they saw what looked like an old farmhouse. There was a barn and some ramshackle buildings, with no one in sight. They continued on, but saw no other houses or structures. Castle Cay’s big central ridge led to smaller, empty islands on its northern tip trailing like a rocky green spine on a partially submerged alligator. They banked to the right and headed south once more on the far side of the high ridge.

The chopper lowered, gently swinging from side to side, and settled on the cracked landing strip. They got out and walked toward the cement block structures. There was nothing much inside: one had a long, portable wooden table that was damaged and falling apart, and there was some debris…pieces of plastic wrap, paper, a soda can.

“Drug runners,” said Joe.

“Yeah, sure looks like it, Buddy. I saw another empty island with a makeshift strip like this in the southern Bahamas. I was flying a narc. He was looking for it. He said they usually just did drops. But, you know that big ridge there? You can’t see this set-up from the other side of this island.”

“Looks like it hasn’t been used for awhile,” said Joe.

“No,” said Will. “You say Holiday Cruise Line is interested in this place?”

“Oh, yeah. Forty million interested.”

“That would be a hell of a deal for them, Joe. The water’s deep on this side; they could bring a ship in close. Plus they already have a sea wall and a pier for the tenders.”

“Yeah. And it’s not too wide for them to cut through to that beautiful beach on the other side.”

“Was there supposed to be a ‘caretaker’ or somebody living on this island?”

“That’s what Julie told me. But those houses we passed on the other side are abandoned…probably scared off by the drug runners.”

“Hey…there’s an airport on Treasure Cay,” said Will. “We’re passing right over it on our way back. We could land and ask around about Castle Cay. A lot of these Bahamians, particularly the fishing boats, they know everything about these islands.”

“That would be great. Let’s do it.”

They climbed aboard, Will revved up the chopper and they lifted off…leaving the shadowy ghosts of Castle Cay behind.

•

They left the chopper at the airport on Treasure Cay. While they waited for a cab, Joe picked up a brochure featuring four fishing boats and their captains:

- FISH ABACOS -

Half Day or Full Day

Excitedly, he showed it to Will on the way to the marina.

“Look at this guy, Will. ‘Captain Al Drum’. He’s got the same name as the caretaker Julie mentioned. She said his name was ‘John Drum’ and I think she said there was a son, ‘Alfred’. I bet it’s him. Here’s his boat, Wave Dancer II. Let’s see if we can find him.”

It was two in the afternoon when they located Wave Dancer’s slip.

“She’ll be back about four,” said a teenage boy washing down a catamaran moored nearby. “Al had four guys, an all day charter.”

They thanked him, and decided to go grab some lunch at the Marina Bar & Grill and return a little later.

They took a seat in the restaurant and both ordered “Fish N’ Chips” and cokes. When the waitress walked away, Will grinned at Joe.

“Well, you sure have gotten yourself a case, Joe.”

“Yeah, it’s a puzzle, all right.”

“I meant a case of the hots for Merlin,” said Will.

“Yeah,” said Joe, smiling, “that, too.”

At half past three, they were sitting on a wooden bench on the dock waiting for WaveDancer II. She pulled in neatly, right on schedule. One by one, four sunburned, happy guys shook Captain Al’s hand and left. The Captain himself was dark haired and medium height, late twenties, maybe thirty. He was deeply tanned, as was his mate, a blond fellow about the same age. They started to clean up the boat.

“Excuse me,” said Joe, “Alfred Drum?”

“Al,” he said. “Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you?”

“I wonder if your father is John Drum, who used to be the caretaker out on Castle Cay?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Joe introduced himself and Will, and explained that the owner of the island, Marc Solomon, had died under suspicious circumstances. He told him that Julie O’Hara - a close friend of Mr. Solomon - had hired him to investigate the man’s death. Joe pulled out his wallet and gave him one of his business cards.

“Yes, I’m John Drum’s son,” said Al. “I used to live on Castle Cay. I’m sorry to hear about Marc Solomon. I haven’t seen him in years, but he was a nice guy. And I’ll never forget Julie O’Hara, even though she only came to Castle Cay once. What would you like to know?”

“When did your family leave Castle Cay?”

“In 1994,” said Al. “Mrs. Solomon had a heart attack while they were on vacation there in ’93. I think they kind of thought the island was cursed or something after that. Anyway, the family said they didn’t need us there anymore. They gave my father a nice severance and we moved here. I have to tell you, my mother and I didn’t mind. It was a lonely life out there.”

“So, do you ever go back?”

“No, never have. There were rumors about men with rifles on the island. I never went near Castle Cay after I heard that. There’s still pirates out here that’ll steal your equipment, or your whole boat. You got to be careful, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess you do,” said Joe. “One other thing, Al. You mentioned that Julie O’Hara came here once. When was that? Was she with Marc Solomon?”

Al Drum looked at him, surprised.

“No. She was with Dan O’Hara on her honeymoon. He died there…you don’t know about that?”

* * * * *