Murder in the Raw Read Online Free Page A

already. He draped an arm around the back of Rex’s chair. “A sad errand brings you, sure,” he lamented. “We’ll drink a toast and pray you can solve the mystery of Sabine Durand, God bless her sweet heart.”
    “I read your sworn statement …” Rex began.
    “I had a wee tipple that afternoon, so my memory of events is blurred, I regret to say. But I shall never forget her.”
    “What was she like?”
    “Ah, she was never afraid to try anything. She was Penny’s scuba partner, but sometimes we dove together. What was I saying, Nora?” he asked his wife. “Oh, yes. Sabine grew up with horses. The clearest vision I have of her is galloping down the beach, her hair and the horse’s mane streaming interchangeably in the breeze. One time we bathed in the sea off the moonlit beach. Ah, Sabine inspired me to write poetry. She was my Maud Gonne.”
    Nora sighed with impatience. “Just ignore him,” she told Rex.
    The waiter served his cocktail. Rex took a sip, appreciating the clean taste of the gin, the sharpness of lime, and bite from the Angostura.
    “What’s the verdict, Counselor?” the Irishman asked, an unlit cigarette wedged in his minuscule mouth.
    “Most refreshing.”
    By and by, the gin began to go to Rex’s head, and he was glad when someone mentioned ordering food. A waiter handed him a menu, and Rex opted for a plate of melon and prosciutto, followed by grilled lemon-pepper chicken. Winslow suggested a bottle of Saint-Émilion, but Rex opted for beer.
    “Lucky you were able to get away at such short notice,” David Weeks addressed him.
    “The courts are in summer recess, so it wasna a problem.”
    “Hope we’re not keeping you from your family,” Nora O’Sullivan said.
    “My son’s attending university in Florida, so I took the opportunity of visiting him in Miami on the way here.”
    “And is there a Mrs. Graves?” the bosomy Pam Farley asked.
    “My wife died of cancer five years ago.”
    Silence chilled the conversation, quickly filled by a few guests voicing their commiserations. Vernon Powell seemed to see Rex for the first time. A glance of sympathy passed between them.
    “We must all come here Saturday,” Toni Weeks said in a transparent effort to lighten the mood. “Saturday is open mike night at The Cockatoo. It’s a lot of fun.”
    “Is this restaurant owned by the resort?” Rex asked.
    “Yes, but it’s open to the public, as you can see. The Cockatoo is our usual port of call for dinner. The band starts at eight.”
    “There’s a nightclub called Boo-Boo-Jam at the far end of the beach,” drawled the balding, sandy-haired Texan. “Great for kebabs and island music. It’s frequented by locals—the air is thick with dope. Sabine caused a sensation. That gal was a very sexy dancer.”
    Another lull broke the convivial chatter. The waiter appeared to clear away the appetizers. Rex sat back in his chair and contemplated Pam Farley in the wake of her husband’s stark compliment. She was younger than Duke, but not young enough to be a trophy wife, though she tried hard to project the illusion. Rex wondered if she had felt threatened by Sabine—if any of the women had.
    The closest in age was Penny Irving, another unusually attractive young woman, but whereas the photos portrayed Sabine as fragile and slim almost to the point of anorexia, Penny exuded fitness and health. Winslow had mentioned that she and her husband owned the Body Beautiful chain of health spas across Canada. Rex noticed they had each selected the leanest items on the menu.
    He skipped Martina and Gaby von Mueller in his review, since they had an alibi for when Sabine went missing. Nora O’Sullivan, it seemed, had decided to age gracefully and let the gray in her hair show. With her alabaster Irish complexion and cornflower blue eyes, the effect was not unbecoming.
    While Elizabeth Winslow recounted an anecdote about her trip to the hairdresser in Marigot that day, Rex took the opportunity to pass