Our Island Inn (Quirky Tales from the Caribbean) by Rebecca M. Hale Page B
Authors: Rebecca M. Hale
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commanding presence were easy to identify.
I pulled back from the entryway, hoping he hadn’t seen me. “What’s he doing here?”
Maya took the plate from my hand and set it on the counter beside the ceramic bird that she’d earlier pushed beyond my reach.
It was a necessary precaution. I was a klutz in the kitchen and, obviously, a poor substitute for Jesús.
For months, I’d watched Maya and her husband prepare meals, but I’d never appreciated how seamlessly they worked together. They moved as a team, a single cohesive unit. I suppose that was why she’d overlooked their romantic incompatibilities. In his professional capacity, he was invaluable. He anticipated her needs before she called them out.
By contrast, I was an obstruction and, despite my best efforts, utterly useless – and that was before Inspector Pickering’s unexpected presence at the inn.
The chances of broken crockery and salt being accidentally substituted for sugar had just escalated dramatically.
~ ~ ~
ELSIE ’S ASSISTANCE HAD kept the dinner service from being a complete disaster. She’d showed up late in the afternoon and offered to help.
She was her typical staid self, perhaps a little more rigid. It was a striking comparison of different muted behaviors. Where Maya’s silence conveyed an inner peace, Elsie’s cast a sullen shadow.
We’d been in close quarters the entire evening, but Elsie hadn’t made eye contact with me. Her lips remained tightly sealed, rejecting any suggestion of conversation. She’d simply stepped into the hole next to Maya, filling it almost as well as Jesús.
While I was still concerned about what Elsie might have seen during all those late nights on – and below – the pool deck, I now had far more troubling matters on my mind.
After leaving the apartment, I’d fetched Maya’s packages from the jeep and scampered into the pavilion to deliver them. Then I’d spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen pantry. Using an old sweatshirt as a pillow, I’d curled up on the floor with my journal. I’d scribbled in it for over an hour, trying to make sense of the gold chain and red hoop earring I’d found in the jewelry box drawer.
I was certain the items had come from our two missing guests. The distinctive accessories combined with the damage to my front bumper and Romeo’s abandoned jeep had left me with some unsettling questions about my partner.
Oliver had always been so quiet and controlled, traits I’d attributed to his upbringing.
By all accounts, his younger years had been traumatic. He’d been bullied, teased, and even occasionally beat up due to his small size and his sexuality. As a result, he was extra sensitive to the feelings of others. He once made me stop the jeep so he could hop out and move a wayward turtle off the road. He was a kind, gentle soul.
Or so I ’d thought…
N ow I found myself wondering if Oliver might be responsible for the disappearances at the inn.
Was his polished demeanor merely a mask for a monstrous killer – one who’d been provoked by my infidelities?
~ ~ ~
I STAYED IN the pantry until it was time for the dinner service to start. Before venturing out into the cooking area, I tucked the chain and the earring into the journal’s front flap pocket and slid the book into its hiding place behind the green-labeled jars.
I wasn’ t sure what else to do.
Throughout most of the dinner service , the kitchen’s swinging doors had served as a protective barrier separating me from my potentially homicidal partner. But with Pickering’s arrival, I feared I was about to be drawn out into the open.
Maya sliced a knife through a key lime pie she’d removed from the freezer, neatly cutting out several triangular pieces. “Maybe the inspector has found Jesús.”
I bit my lip, afraid to respond.
Somehow, I doubted the likelihood of that scenario.
~ ~ ~
OLIVER POK ED HIS head through the swinging doors, breaching my defenses. “Pickering wants to
I pulled back from the entryway, hoping he hadn’t seen me. “What’s he doing here?”
Maya took the plate from my hand and set it on the counter beside the ceramic bird that she’d earlier pushed beyond my reach.
It was a necessary precaution. I was a klutz in the kitchen and, obviously, a poor substitute for Jesús.
For months, I’d watched Maya and her husband prepare meals, but I’d never appreciated how seamlessly they worked together. They moved as a team, a single cohesive unit. I suppose that was why she’d overlooked their romantic incompatibilities. In his professional capacity, he was invaluable. He anticipated her needs before she called them out.
By contrast, I was an obstruction and, despite my best efforts, utterly useless – and that was before Inspector Pickering’s unexpected presence at the inn.
The chances of broken crockery and salt being accidentally substituted for sugar had just escalated dramatically.
~ ~ ~
ELSIE ’S ASSISTANCE HAD kept the dinner service from being a complete disaster. She’d showed up late in the afternoon and offered to help.
She was her typical staid self, perhaps a little more rigid. It was a striking comparison of different muted behaviors. Where Maya’s silence conveyed an inner peace, Elsie’s cast a sullen shadow.
We’d been in close quarters the entire evening, but Elsie hadn’t made eye contact with me. Her lips remained tightly sealed, rejecting any suggestion of conversation. She’d simply stepped into the hole next to Maya, filling it almost as well as Jesús.
While I was still concerned about what Elsie might have seen during all those late nights on – and below – the pool deck, I now had far more troubling matters on my mind.
After leaving the apartment, I’d fetched Maya’s packages from the jeep and scampered into the pavilion to deliver them. Then I’d spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen pantry. Using an old sweatshirt as a pillow, I’d curled up on the floor with my journal. I’d scribbled in it for over an hour, trying to make sense of the gold chain and red hoop earring I’d found in the jewelry box drawer.
I was certain the items had come from our two missing guests. The distinctive accessories combined with the damage to my front bumper and Romeo’s abandoned jeep had left me with some unsettling questions about my partner.
Oliver had always been so quiet and controlled, traits I’d attributed to his upbringing.
By all accounts, his younger years had been traumatic. He’d been bullied, teased, and even occasionally beat up due to his small size and his sexuality. As a result, he was extra sensitive to the feelings of others. He once made me stop the jeep so he could hop out and move a wayward turtle off the road. He was a kind, gentle soul.
Or so I ’d thought…
N ow I found myself wondering if Oliver might be responsible for the disappearances at the inn.
Was his polished demeanor merely a mask for a monstrous killer – one who’d been provoked by my infidelities?
~ ~ ~
I STAYED IN the pantry until it was time for the dinner service to start. Before venturing out into the cooking area, I tucked the chain and the earring into the journal’s front flap pocket and slid the book into its hiding place behind the green-labeled jars.
I wasn’ t sure what else to do.
Throughout most of the dinner service , the kitchen’s swinging doors had served as a protective barrier separating me from my potentially homicidal partner. But with Pickering’s arrival, I feared I was about to be drawn out into the open.
Maya sliced a knife through a key lime pie she’d removed from the freezer, neatly cutting out several triangular pieces. “Maybe the inspector has found Jesús.”
I bit my lip, afraid to respond.
Somehow, I doubted the likelihood of that scenario.
~ ~ ~
OLIVER POK ED HIS head through the swinging doors, breaching my defenses. “Pickering wants to
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