Crystal Blue (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 3), John Cunningham [top fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

He paused. “Sounded like maybe you knew something.”

“Any theories?”

“There’s no shortage of wackos down there, Reilly. Not as flaky as Key West, mind you, but there’s major gang activity—and then you have pro-statehood organizations, anti-statehood too, along with a bunch of quasi-racist activity—”

“Racist?”

“Those born in the USVI and down-islanders are at each other’s throats. A real paradise, as long as you don’t peek under the veil of fantasy.”

Even though Booth was being more forthright than ever, I didn’t relish his call for help. Crystal needed my exclusive attention.

“Here’s the deal, Reilly. I have the U.S. side covered with the VIPD—”

“I met a tight-lipped cop named Lieutenant White from VIPD today.”

“Right, Kenneth White, seems okay, but what I need is for you to be my eyes and ears in the BVI. No investigating, no bull in a china shop, just an observer with daily reports back to me. Can you handle that?”

I’d helped him a couple times before, under duress. Given that my old e-Antiquity partner was still in a federal penitentiary for stuff much like what I’d been accused of, I had no easy way to decline being Booth’s amateur operative. Again.

The only problem was that I had a history in the BVI. Did Booth know about that? It had to be in my file, but hell, maybe it was buried under the rest of my… experiences.

“I’m helping Crystal Thedford shuttle her performers around, but I’ll also be looking for information about her husband while I’m at it, so…” I had an idea. “Actually there is something you can do.”

“I’ll send you the credit card and cell phone again—”

“Aside from that.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Water landings are illegal in the BVI and outside St. Thomas. I could be a lot more nimble and penetrating if you could make a call and get them to waive that for me. Professional courtesy between law enforcement agencies and all.”

Booth was silent. Given his summary of poor relations between the BVI and the USVI, would he even be able to swing that?

He sighed. “I’ll work on it.”

“You do that. Send me the phone and credit card ASAP. I’ll be on the move in the morning.”

“I’ll have them couriered over tonight. Remember, one-fifty per diem. This isn’t a vacation for you and the beautiful Ms. Thedford.”

I remembered Crystal’s tears on the ferry.

“No shit, J. Edgar.”

With that I hung up. So much for a nap.

I barely had time for a shower before I was to meet Crystal, and I knew if I wasn’t there she wouldn’t wait. Damn Booth. But I was already up to my knees in this situation. It’s not like he asked me to do something I wasn’t doing anyway, and now I’d have some financial help. Of course, that help came with strings—handcuffs, you might say—and Booth just rubbed me the wrong way.

The FBI’s interest in the disappearance of Crystal’s husband was good news. But given that they were calling me for help, I had limited confidence it would add up to much.

CRYSTAL SAT AT THE tiki bar staring into the Caribbean Sea. Steel drums set the tone around the pool. A one-man band with three pans was perched at the far corner of the patio. Crystal had changed into a tank top, and if I didn’t know her story I’d have assumed she was a beautiful woman relaxing on vacation. I even fantasized for a mini-second that she and I were here together. Then cleared my throat.

“Hey, Crystal. Anything new?”

Her eyes refocused in my direction.

“Everything’s turning to shit, Buck.”

“What do you mean?”

“The news about John’s disappearance is getting out and it’s all falling apart, fast. My assistant’s been inundated with calls from the managers and agents of our celebrity guests.” Her delivery of this news was so deadpan I figured she was either remarkably calm or in shock.

“Worried calls or pissed-off calls?”

“Worried, so far.”

The bartender arrived with a toothy smile. I asked for a Carib beer and Crystal ordered a margarita.

“Any news on your husband?” I said.

“Nothing that will help us find him.”

This while averting my eyes. I remembered I’d been hired as a charter pilot, not a private eye, and I hadn’t really done anything yet to earn her trust—aside from fighting off her attacker at the Casa Marina.

“Thanks for what you did back at the harbor,” she said. “With those reporters.”

“I don’t have fond memories of pushy newshounds.”

“Given that the other planes we’d hired are now grounded, I really need you to shuttle the talent around. Otherwise, this entire show’s kaput. We’ve put all our savings into this event, hoping to get reimbursed through advertising revenues, so if it fails, we’re broke. Of course none of that matters if we can’t find John.”

“Can you postpone the show?”

She shook her head.

“It was so hard to line the celebrities up for this one date—and we’ve already spent the money.” She sat up tall and took in a deep breath. “I have to keep everything under control and hope the authorities find John.”

I thought of Booth.

“I’m sure they’re doing everything possible. The VIPD works closely with the FBI, and the bomb threat brings additional attention to the situation.”

Her gaze drifted back out to sea. The sun hovered over Water Island to the west, and the sky’s colors elicited the standard oohs and aahs from others at the bar, along with speculation about whether there would be a green flash. It was a gorgeous Caribbean sunset and we had a ringside seat, but my mind was micro-focused on Crystal.

“They start arriving en masse day after tomorrow,” she said. “Of course they’re staying in different villas and resorts all over the Virgin Islands.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

She turned back to look straight in my eyes. I sensed a current between us. The hair on my arms stood up.

“I appreciate that, Buck. I need all the help I can get.”

“But for me to help you, I need to know more about whatever threats you’ve received and to