~ A Caribbean Summer ~
by
Tricia Lee
Prologue
Headline and excerpt from The Palmaltas News:
MARISOL HOTEL TYCOON
STILL MISSING AFTER FOUR WEEKS
The family of Peter J. Harris has issued a statement to the media pleading for help and information in locating the missing heir to the Harris Hotel chain fortune. Mr. Harris, age thirty-five, represents his family in Palmaltas as the CEO of the Marisol Hotel, which was established here by his late father P. D. Harris, an American hotel entrepreneur. His mother, Alma Gutiérrez Harris, who died five years ago, was a notable figure in Palmaltas religious charities.
Mr. Harris, a native Palmaltan born and raised on the island, is a familiar figure at prominent social events. His sudden disappearance four weeks ago on April 21 left his family and colleagues stunned.
The police have stated that there is no indication that Mr. Harris left the island either by air or by sea. His sister states that none of his personal belongings is missing. His suite in the Harris mansion, which is across the street from the Marisol Hotel, appears just as it did on the day before his disappearance. The police have continuously combed the island, and, as yet, have found no trace of the missing billionaire.
Both family and officials deny that anyone has contacted them regarding a ransom. “He just seems to have disappeared into thin air,” cried his sister, Lisa Harris Rivera.
However, his fiancée, the stunning Marla Hunter, director of a New York modeling agency, stated that she is positive that Peter will return soon. “He is much too responsible to abandon his business, his family, and especially me,” she declared with confidence yesterday at a press conference.
Palmaltas resort area
A tanned, muscular man with short-cropped, silvery hair dressed in ragged shorts, a white short-sleeved shirt, and tennis shoes without socks walked along the beach that separated a line of hotels and restaurants from the Caribbean Sea. He took his time, inhaling and enjoying the salty sea air. In a casual, carefree manner he walked around the sunbathers, tourists who ignored him or turned up their noses at him. He didn’t care. He barely noticed them himself. When he reached the Marisol Hotel beach, he sauntered over to his brother’s boat concession where the hotel guests were already clamoring for Amos’ attention. He waved at Amos who grinned back at him and said, “Fishing again, bro?”
He nodded yes and went inside the little portable building that proclaimed Amos Soto, Glass-Bottom Boat Rides and Other Activities on the outdoor sign. He grinned at how industrious his brother was and how he had become the seemingly lazy brother. Amos was industrious while he spent his days fishing with his new friend. At least that was the way their lives would appear to casual observers. He grabbed the fishing gear that he stowed in the concession and started to head out the door for the pier that marked the boundary between the Marisol beach and the condo beach on the other side.
At that moment Amos stepped inside the concession.
“You’re up mighty early,” he said.
“Yeah, but just in case one of them or both show up on the beach this morning, I want to be in position.”
“You really think she would get up this early?”
He laughed. “I doubt it, Amos. However, if she is involved in this thing with him then I want to catch her at it.”
“Trust me, she is involved. At least, you’ve got yourself a good cover, bro.”
His brother laughed. “You were the one who dared me to do this.”
“Yes, and I still think you can pull it off. They don’t seem to care about what they say in front of tourists or Marisol employees like me.”
“That in itself indicates reckless danger.”
Amos laughed and said, “You’re safe enough here but get yourself in place just in case.”
His brother laughed, too, and waving good-bye headed for the pier to wait for his new fishing buddy.
Telephone conversation between Palmaltas and Omaha, Nebraska:
“So, Amy, how about it? Can you come to my wedding? Surely school will be out then.”
Stunned by the invitation that her best friend had just given her, Amy managed to say, “Uh yes, school will be out May twenty-nine.”
“Great! Then do you think you could fly here Wednesday, June fifth?”
“Oh, Donna, you know I would love to, but there’s no way I can afford a trip to Palmaltas.”
“My dear, I don’t expect you to pay. We, David and I, are offering you an all-expense trip.”
“Why-why?” Amy sputtered. She had never met David Díaz. Why would he be so generous, she wondered.
“Why are we doing this? You have to ask? Other than the fact that you are my closest friend, I-uh, well, I do have an ulterior motive.”
“Aha,” exclaimed Amy, although she was puzzled more than ever.
“You’re fond of Jeremy, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. I love that little boy.” Amy felt that Donna’s question had veered the conversation off track. Donna knew how fond she was of her son. There could be no ulterior motive in that fact.
“Then I have a proposition for you,” she said.
“Donna, just tell me what’s going on. Get to the point.”
“My honeymoon, you little idiot. That’s what. I need someone, someone I trust, to care for Jeremy for two weeks while David and I island-hop around the Caribbean. Jeremy adores you and you haven’t seen him in two years. Are you game?”
Amy laughed. “Am I game? Oh Donna, I would love to look after Jeremy. Two weeks in Palmaltas with Jeremy? What a dream!”
“Only you, Amy, would consider spending time with a six-year-old a dream.”
“But I love children, especially Jeremy.”
“And well you should, Miss Dedicated School Teacher.”
“Uh, Donna, I have a silly question to ask.”
“Ask anything.”
“Is-is there bougainvillea in Palmaltas?”
“Well, of course. Every tropical bloom you can imagine abounds here. Why do you ask?”
“Because it’s always been my dream to go someplace exotic that has brilliant bougainvillea. So many of the books that I read describe it and I want so much to see some.”
“You do have strange dreams. Aren’t there any men in any of those dreams?”
“I-I suppose so but you know how unlucky I am with the men I fall in love with.”
“Well, my first husband wasn’t the cream of the crop but David, however, is literally Prince Charming.”
“And I am so happy for you.”
“I know you are, honey. So come to the wedding, take care of Jeremy, and, who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone. The men here are gorgeous.”
“Just don’t fix me up with anyone. Blind dates are my worst disaster. If I meet someone, it has to be completely natural.”
Donna laughed. “As cute as you are, with that lush dark brown hair and brown eyes, all you have to do is prance around in a bikini when you take Jeremy to the beach, which will be everyday, by the way, and hordes of men will descend upon you.”
“That sounds very intimidating. Just living in luxury in Palmaltas with Jeremy for two weeks is more than I could ask for. Uh, you do live in luxury, don’t you?” Amy joked.
“Just wait until you see my condo. But I’ll omit any descriptions. David gave me carte blanche to decorate however I wished. I doubt if your wildest imagination could conjure my décor.”
“Wow, then I can’t wait to see it.”
“Oh say, have you read about our current mystery?”
“No, I don’t think so. Palmaltas news doesn’t make it to Omaha.”
“Too bad. We have a missing billionaire. He’s handsome, dashing, and a friend of David’s. I really like the guy and I was hoping that you two would click.”
“What? You mean you were planning to fix me up with someone? With a dashing billionaire? Donna, get real!”
“Well, if he doesn’t show up soon, you won’t have to worry about meeting him.”
“What do you mean by missing? Has he been kidnapped? I mean, if he’s so rich?”
“We don’t know. Nobody does. He just simply vanished about four weeks ago. Personally, I think he wanted to get away from his fiancée, a highfalutin’ society dame from New York.”
“Highfalutin’? Dame? That’s the kind of language you speak nowadays?”
“No, I guess it sounds silly but it fits her.”
“Are you telling me that you want to fix me up with a man who is already engaged?” Amy asked, slightly indignant.
“Well, she is a bitch and Peter is rather a doll.”
“I take it that Peter is your missing billionaire.”