Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(14)

Gina walked from the parking area across a path of wooden planks that zigzagged its way to a small office. The walls were lined with pictures of past clients, presumably happy renters. The bulletin board behind the counter suggested that Paradise Rentals offered a little bit of everything. In addition to the Jet Skis, small sailboats were available, as well as SUPs, stand-up paddleboards.

The couple in front of her finished paying for their sailboat, and the man behind the counter turned to Gina. “Good morning, do you have a reservation?”

He appeared to be about sixty. His deeply tanned face was creased with wrinkles. Thinning gray hair was combed backward and hung behind a baseball cap. Gina guessed him to be the proprietor as she recognized his face in most of the pictures on the wall.

As the owner, he’d likely be suspicious of anyone asking questions about an accident involving one of his rentals, Gina decided.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m with the tour group from the Americana Hotel.”

“You’re early,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“I know. I thought it would be nice if someone could take a little extra time to familiarize me with the ski before I took off. I’ve never ridden one before.”

He sighed. “Go outside to the right and down to the gas dock. Klaus will tell you what to do.”

Gina left the office, glanced to her right, and saw a hunched-over teenager putting gas in one of the skis. She walked over to him and he looked up, his glance lingering on her long, shapely legs. His thick blond hair hung halfway over his ears. Deep blue eyes stood out behind a handsome face. A Speedo bathing suit was the only cover of a slender but well-muscled torso.

“Are you Klaus?” Gina asked.

“Yes, I am,” he said, his English revealing a distinct German accent.

“Your boss said you could help me out. Before I go on the tour at eleven o’clock, I want to learn a little about how these things work.”

“Don’t worry. They’re easy to operate. Are you from the Americana Hotel? I’ll be leading your tour.”

“Are you the guide on all the tours?”

“Peter and I used to split them until he quit last month. Now I do them all until they hire somebody else.”

“I understand that in the middle of a tour a woman named Cathy Ryan was killed in an accident two weeks ago. Were you her tour guide?”

Klaus put his head down and glanced over at the office, where the owner was leading a family toward the sailboats, before he spoke softly. “There’s a bar called the Silly Parrot about a kilometer south of your hotel. Tonight at six-thirty. We can talk there.”

Klaus then raised the volume of his voice as the owner approached. “Don’t worry. We get plenty of first-timers using our skis. Just follow a few basic rules and you’ll be fine.”





16





About fifteen minutes later the jitney from the hotel arrived. Two couples who appeared to be in their late twenties or early thirties and a man in his fifties got off and walked down to the boathouse. After they checked in, introductions were made. The couples were honeymooners from Minneapolis and Cleveland. The man, who introduced himself as Richie, asked, “So Gina, are you here by yourself?”

This is the last thing I need, she thought. A little white lie will nip this in the bud. “Yes, for now. My fiancé will arrive tomorrow.”

“Lucky him,” Richie said, obviously trying to conceal his disappointment.

Klaus came over, introduced himself as the tour guide, and asked the group to follow him. He climbed onto a ski while the others remained on the pier. “Anything you want to keep dry, put in here,” he said while pointing to a small saddlebag behind the seat. “Although you will be riding on several different models, the controls are in the same place.” He flipped a switch to start the ski. “It’s in neutral now. When you put it in forward gear, turn your right hand grip to speed up, let go of the grip to slow down. A few basic rules of the road…”

“Is there a brake?” the honeymooner from Minneapolis asked.

“No brakes,” Klaus said, smiling. “As soon as you stop giving it gas, the water will slow you quickly down.”

Fifteen minutes later they were speeding along the coast. From the lead position Klaus put his hand up, signaling everyone to slow down. Pointing to the remains of a fort, he shared information about the early days of the Dutch settlers on the island and their interaction with the Caiquetio Indians of the Arawak tribe from Venezuela.

Gina was enjoying herself. She experienced an ounce of guilt, but only for an instant, knowing that she would bill this tour to the magazine as part of her research.

After three more stops they pulled in to a pier next to the Tierra Mar restaurant. Fishing boats and yachts of various sizes bobbed gently in their slips.

Gina remembered from the guidebook that this was where the tour would break for lunch. She thought of Cathy Ryan docking her ski, going inside for what would be her last meal.

They fetched their personal items from the saddlebag on each ski and followed Klaus into the restaurant. A table for seven had been reserved. It was just to the right of the bar and enjoyed a view of the azure-blue water and the coastline. Richie was quick to take the seat next to Gina. Her telling him that she was engaged had not delivered the intended message.