Detective Baxter François, the lead detective with the St. Killian police department, had told Vivian the waiter was savvy. She and the detective had developed a polite, if not friendly, relationship. François had admitted that the waiter was most likely guilty but sly enough to make sure there were no connections between him and the crime.
After the waiter had walked away, quickly disappearing into the shadowy interior of the restaurant, Amal made her way back to the table.
“The stupid waiter still hasn’t brought my pinot noir?” Amal asked, taking her seat again.
“I’m sure it's on the way,” Vivian reassured her, somewhat troubled by Amal’s conversation with the shady waiter.
Shaking her head, Amal said, “Who do you have to blow to get a glass of wine in this joint?”
“What were you and that waiter talking about?” Vivian questioned.
“I knew you were watching me,” Amal said, her smile naughty. “His name is Landon, and I gave him my number. He claims to have a foot-long, but I told him ‘Honey, twelve inches isn’t going to cut it. I need a two-by-four’!”
Vivian cackled at her best friend’s unabashed bawdiness, but Amal’s encounter with the waiter still bothered her.
4
Lounging on a chaise on the terrace, Vivian stared at the Caribbean Sea, thinking about Amal’s toast.
I want to raise a glass to myself because no one is ever going to make a fool of me again. What could the toast mean? Had someone tried to fool her? Was her best friend having some personal problems? Maybe, but if so, Vivian knew Amal would turn things around. Her best friend had always been able to pull off a surprise victory. She was smart and determined, able to go from tragedy to triumph.
Amal would always rise from the ashes.
Thinking about Amal made Vivian wonder where she was. Rising from the chaise, Vivian crossed the terrace. Walking through the opened pocket doors, Vivian headed into the den, thinking about Amal’s conversation with the waiter. When they’d returned to the condo, Amal had retired to her room to freshen up, while Vivian had taken a moment to search the newspaper’s database of articles, looking for more information about the waiter.
After finding the story, Vivian reread it a few times. The waiter’s name was Landon George, and just as she remembered, he hadn’t been charged with a crime. Still, Vivian didn’t trust him. When she’d interviewed him, Landon had been dismissive and smug, as though daring her to prove his guilt.
Heading down the hall, Vivian noticed the door to Amal’s bedroom was ajar. Her best friend’s voice exploded from the room.
“I’m going to kill him!” Amal swore. “Son of a bitch!”
In the ten years she’d known Amal, Vivian had never heard her best friend sound so infuriated, so full of rage. Amal had never backed down from a confrontation. Her best friend had always been the kickass take-no-prisoners type who didn’t take crap from anyone and had always stood up for herself.
She wasn’t one to start a fight but always finished it.
Vivian had witnessed Amal’s anger before, many times, but the wrath permeating Amal’s voice, fueling her words, made Vivian think of a crazed Liberian general she’d interviewed. He’d spewed deranged ideology. His hatred was almost like desire, a passionate longing to kill his enemies. Shaken, disturbed by her comparison of Amal to an insane tribal leader, Vivian walked to the door and knocked. “Amal?”
“One second,” Amal called out and then lowered her voice to a whisper of tense words Vivian couldn’t understand.
A moment later, Amal opened the door wide and beckoned for Vivian to come in.
“Everything okay?” Vivian ventured, stepping over the threshold.
“Everything is great, especially this room.” Amal twirled around a few times, arms outstretched, like Wonder Woman, and then plopped down on the edge of the bed, laughing. “And this condo. Beyond gorgeous!”
“I’m pretty happy with it,” Vivian said, sitting in the chair across from the bed.
Her unit, on the southwestern section of the sprawling grounds, featured walls of French windows and doors, offering dazzling views of the Caribbean Sea both at sunrise and sunset. A two-story model, the lower level was comprised of a cavernous living room, spacious kitchen and dining room, and an opulent master suite. Through the kitchen, there was an attached garage, and from the garage, a door opened to a quaint, picturesque courtyard.
Upstairs was a large den, a study, and three guest bedrooms. Collapsible pocket doors in the den opened to the second-floor terrace, perfect for relaxing and entertaining.
“Let me guess,” Amal said. “Mom and Dad helped, right?”
“A little,” Vivian admitted, nodding.
“Yeah, right,” Amal said, laughing as she threw an accent pillow in Vivian’s direction. “From the looks of this place, I’ll bet they helped out more than just a little.”
“Oh, shut up,” Vivian warned and launched the accent pillow toward Amal, who ducked to avoid being hit.
“By the way,” Amal said. “I read your article about St. Mateo on the plane. Very interesting and informative. Made me want to go there.”
“Actually, the article could have been way more exciting if I had been allowed to investigate a rumor I overheard, but …”
“What rumor?” Amal asked.
“Apparently, there is a secret exclusive sex hotel on St. Mateo called the Heliconia.”
“Are you serious?” Amal cackled mischievously, clapping her hands. “Maybe I should have gone to St. Mateo.”
“It's just a rumor,” Vivian said, laughing. “Probably not true.”
“That sucks.” Amal stood and walked to the full-length mirror in the corner near the wardrobe.
Clearing her throat, Vivian said, “So, I hope I didn’t interrupt your phone call.”
“You didn’t,” Amal said, scrutinizing her reflection, scowling slightly.
Vivian hesitated and then said, “The conversation sounded intense.”
Amal faced her, eyes hard and shrewd. “You were listening?”
“Well, no, not really,” Vivian stammered, taken aback by Amal’s intense glare.
“What did you hear?” Amal demanded, a fierceness in her gaze Vivian didn’t recognize or understand.
“I heard you say that you were going to kill someone.”
Amal glared, and Vivian saw a quick flash of hatred in her friend’s dark
