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

guess you’d call it love at first sight,” she said. “I know that’s cliché, but we were married four months later. And no, I wasn’t pregnant.”

The smile never left her face. Not only were the corners of her mouth always turned upward, her amber eyes sparkled when she spoke and fixed squarely on yours when you spoke to her. She had to be a great fundraiser.

“How long have you been living in Key West?” she said.

“A little over three years now. It’s been a nice change of pace.”

“e-Antiquity must have been a fast-lane lifestyle—scouring the globe for lost treasures, darling of Wall Street, on the cover of magazines…”

“Those days are long over. I used to be somebody, and now I’m somebody else. It’s just me and my airplane, the…the Goose.”

“I saw it at the airport. Charming old bird.”

I studied her eyes for sarcasm.

“She’s a work in progress, but sound,” I said.

“That’s what the mechanic said. I’m not worried.”

“No?”

“If you’re comfortable risking your life, than I should have no concern for my own.” She winked. “Even with King Charles Reilly at the helm.”

I took it as a friendly jibe. Ray was right about her being beautiful, but I already knew she was also intelligent, considerate, and—

A sudden movement up by the door caught my attention: Georges, rushing down the steps and headed our way. Now what?

“Excuse me.” Nearly breathless, he said, “Ms. Thedford? I’m afraid you have a call.”

She looked at her cell phone, which had been face down on the table. Its red light blinked.

“An important call.” Georges glanced around him as he spoke. My alarm bells went off. “If you’ll come with me?”

Crystal’s smile was gone. She pushed her chair back with a loud scrape and stood.

“You can take the call in the office.”

We followed him toward the small office by the bathrooms. Crystal didn’t meet my eyes before she turned and closed the door in my face.

I realized Georges’ bronzed face was awfully pale. What in hell was going on?

That’s when I heard Crystal shriek.

IPUSHED THE DOOR open and found Crystal with a fixed stare and the phone on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

She continued to stare through the opened door, past Georges and me.

“It was the police,” Georges said. “On St. Thomas—the Virgin Islands.”

Crystal’s eyelids fluttered and her chest heaved.

“What did they want?” I said.

Georges gave a quick shake of his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“They wouldn’t say, only that it was—”

“John’s missing,” Crystal said. “My husband.”

“Was he out on the water?” I said. “Was there a problem?”

My questions hung in the air.

She pressed her palms together and held them to her lips, but her eyes were wide open. What else was that in her expression? Not fear or sadness. Resignation?

“I need to get back to my hotel.” Her voice was brittle.

“I can take you.”

She nodded once and walked out.

Georges and I exchanged a glance. His lip was trembling.

I took off after Crystal and guided her out of the restaurant and toward Reynolds, where my Rover was parked halfway down the block.

“Did they give you any details?”

“I didn’t believe any of the hype.” She shuddered. “John had warned me, but he’s a worrier so I laughed it off.”

“What hype?”

“He said there could be trouble, but—” She made a fist and raised it like she intended to hit the dashboard but stopped mid-air.

The Casa Marina loomed ahead.

“What kind of trouble, Crystal—you mentioned social changes? Like what?”

She turned toward me and bit her lip. There was a tear on her cheek.

“Choice issues—I’m sure John’s just off with one of the guests—attending to details—getting things ready.”

We pulled up in front of the hotel. She had the door opened before I even stopped.

“Crystal.” I grabbed her arm and her head snapped back toward me. There was fear in her eyes. “What kind of trouble could John be in?”

“There’d been some threats, about our event—”

“Threats? For a charity event?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “If you don’t want to take me down, I’ll understand.”

“Of course I’ll take you, but what else can I do to help?”

“Just get me to St. Thomas.” Her eyes had turned cold.

“I’ll be here at seven. The flight time—”

She nodded and slammed the door. I watched her hurry into the hotel lobby, glancing down at her cell phone as she went.

Crap! Missing? What did that mean? And threats—by whom? I’d never heard of their charity, but adoption didn’t strike me as a contentious issue. Who would have threatened them, and why? Choice issues?

Back to the La Concha. I vaguely heard Zeke call out to me from the moped rental hut, but I was in the elevator before it registered.

When my computer booted up, I searched for I Support Adoption and found a modest website with pictures of both Crystal and her husband, John. He had movie star looks, no surprise there, with determined eyes and perfect white teeth. I read through his brief biography. He and his two brothers had been adopted at birth by a loving couple unable to have children themselves. The rest was as Crystal had described him.

Crystal’s biography was almost as skimpy vague, mentioning her past as an executive with City of Hope and her bachelor of arts and law degrees from NYU.

I had the impression that she must come from an established family but there was nothing in her bio to base it on.

There was a link to a brief article in USA Today describing the upcoming event, to be held at Foxy’s on Jost Van Dyke. There would be many celebrities in attendance, but the names hadn’t been released yet.

Foxy’s? There was a small concert venue behind the famous waterfront bar, built for a millennium party intended to feature the Rolling Stones. I couldn’t recall if the concert ever happened, but I’d enjoyed a painkiller or two there in the past. Odd place for a charity concert.

Elsewhere on the website I read some stats on abortion and adoption…nothing controversial…some