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

coordinating with the police in the BVI to facilitate the Customs process and try to help them get ready for the onslaught of visitors. Last I heard you were expecting around five thousand people.”

“Have you been coordinating the search for John Thedford with the BVI authorities?” I said.

“That’s really VIPD’s job, but we’ve informed them of the situation and asked that they keep a look out, let us know if they hear anything.”

Crystal groaned.

“I’ll be outside, Buck. Officer Deaver, please get those boats back out and continue to search for my husband. Please.” With that, she hurried out.

Deaver watched her go, then turned back to me.

“Poor woman. There’s not much more we can do, frankly.”

“How about foul play?” I said. “You’ve heard about the bomb threat on Seaborne Airlines, I assume?”

“Yes, and I know the police are talking to local sources looking for any information or leads.” He glanced over his shoulder. “There’s a rumor Thedford may have left on a boat, but don’t quote me.”

“Rumor?”

“Came from a local drunk, so his tip wasn’t considered reliable.”

“Can I get the name of the witness?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

Would John have left by boat alone? His history of extra-marital affairs suddenly nagged at me.

I asked Deaver about the various genres of criminal or radical groups Booth had mentioned to me. He had no idea whether any could be connected to John’s disappearance, or if any of them opposed adoption.

“As for gang activity, St. Thomas and St. Croix have more, just due to population,” he said, “but we’ve had some inadvertent killings, some shoot-outs on the island. Trafficking tends to bring that as a byproduct.” He shrugged. “There are factions of Crips and Bloods here, and if you include Puerto Rico there’s a bunch of Latin gangs like Ñeta, Los Huevos, and Bacalao. What with the budget cuts and the vast area of water and number of small craft, it’s like Swiss cheese here. Even the DEA and Coast Guard can’t keep up.”

Why would any of these groups care about a fundraiser to promote adoption?

“Can you share any local gang leader names?”

“Sure.” He raised an eyebrow. “But I wouldn’t recommend trying to talk to them, if that’s what you’re thinking. One name I’ve heard here is Diego Francis, not sure which gang he’s affiliated with. Last year in St. Thomas, there was a sweep made against one of the drug gangs and thirty people were arrested. Unfortunately, the cases were thrown out due to an illegal search and seizure ruling. The big shot amongst that bunch was a guy named Burke, goes by Boom-Boom. A real sweetheart.”

I wrote their names in the back of my small leather notebook.

“Like I said, I wouldn’t suggest trying to talk to them.”

“How about the BVI? Any gang activity over there?”

“Nothing like here. Guns are illegal there, and the penalties are stiff. That’s one reason relations are so strained between our local governments these days. They’re pissed that we can’t keep crime under control over here, and as a result it’s begun to spread all over the islands.”

Perfect. I didn’t want to leave Crystal alone any longer, but had one last question.

“What about water landings? Any chance that would be allowed outside the seaplane base on St. Thomas, either in the USVI or the BVI?”

“Not a chance,” Deaver said. “Given all the other challenges with smuggling these days, seaplanes spell trouble.”

With that, and a request that the Park Service not give up on the search for John Thedford, I left to find Crystal.

Based on Deaver’s assessment about seaplanes, I gave Booth scant odds that he’d be able to get me carte blanche landing rights for the Beast. Then again, with only three boats to patrol these waters, the Park Service wouldn’t be able to do much about it if I decided otherwise.

WITH MY NOTEBOOK STILL in hand, I thought to check what contacts I had in St. John before I rejoined Crystal. I thumbed the pages and a name jumped out at me. Jack Anderson.

I smiled. Why hadn’t I thought of him sooner?

Crystal was outside, sitting on a bench that looked out over the dormant fleet of the U.S. Park Service. I was just about to ask to borrow her phone when I remembered the one Booth sent me was in my backpack.

“That was a bust,” she said. “There’s no urgency to find John.” She glanced up at me and squinted into the late morning sun, the circles under her eyes darker now. “Did you learn anything?”

“I got some names I plan to check out, but only because they’re tied to local gangs.”

“Gangs? Do you think—”

“Back when I was running e-Antiquity, I learned that those who operated outside the law often had more up-to-the-minute information than the police.”

Crystal gave me a weak smile.

I’d decided to keep the “unreliable” witness who said he’d seen John leave on a boat to myself for now. I held my little leather book up.

“But there’s another guy I’m hoping is on-island, because he could be a good source.” With that I dug the phone out of my pack, punched in the numbers, and listened to the ringing on the other end.

“Hello?”

“That you, Jack?”

There was a brief silence. “Who’s calling?”

“It’s Buck—Charles Reilly.”

Crystal raised her eyebrows.

“King? What do you know!” Jack’s voice lifted. “How can I help you?”

“Any chance you’re on St. John?”

“Sure am, got a closing tomorrow.”

I glanced at my watch. “You still a regular at Morgan’s Mango?”

He laughed. “Yeah, pretty much every damn night.”

“Can you meet me there for an early lunch?”

We agreed to meet in thirty minutes. Morgan’s Mango was right across the street, so I led Crystal to a seat in the front corner, me facing the street.

“Who’re we meeting?” she said.

“Guy named Jack Anderson, a developer from New Jersey I met in Virginia. He bought a beautiful hundred acres of private land here on St. John years ago and developed the finest gated community on-island. When he was excavating one of the