The RX Factor

The RX Factor - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Everett Pritchard was a third generation law enforcement official: his grandfather served in the Royal Bahamian Police Force for over thirty-five years, and his father was warden at the Carmichael Penitentiary in Nassau where, seventeen years ago, he was stabbed and killed by several Haitian inmates during a full-scale prison riot.

At the time of the riot, Everett was a rising star in the Nassau police force, having been promoted to the rank of inspector after being the lead investigator in a task force that had broken up a sizeable international drug-smuggling operation. Following the death of his father, he requested, and was eventually granted, a transfer back to his home island of Exuma. Despite his love of the law and the excitement that came with working big cases, his devotion to family and the need to care for his widowed mother were greater than the rush of stalking the shady characters that made Nassau their base of operations. Since returning to Exuma, he had been promoted to assistant superintendent and, with the retirement of Superintendent Burrows a few years back, he was handed the top cop position.

In his fifteen years as a law enforcement official in Exuma, there had been only a handful of serious crimes and one murder, which turned out to be an open-and-shut case. Except for the occasional petty crime or domestic squabble, Everett’s day-to-day routine was more as a goodwill ambassador to the visiting tourists. His body had produced less adrenaline in the fifteen years since returning to Exuma than it had in a good month in Nassau. . . . until now.

The woman who had introduced herself as Dr. Jordan Carver sat on the hard wooden chair in front of Pritchard’s desk. Pritchard watched her take in the array of family snapshots, the two potted palms flanking his desk, and the vase of fresh azaleas lingering on a small adjoining table. She nodded toward the official portraits on the wall. The woman didn’t miss much.

“I thought the Queen was passé in the islands nowadays,” she said.

Pritchard poured them both a cup of coffee, then glanced up at the framed portrait hanging beside the flag of the Bahamas. “I am a sentimental man. I’m proud of our independence, but I am still a stickler for tradition.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed her carefully before continuing. “Franklin notified me of the discovery of your aunt and uncle’s remains this morning. I am sorry for your tragic loss, and grateful for your cooperation, Dr. Carver.”

“Why wouldn’t I cooperate?” Notes of surprise, indignation, and even a little wariness intermingled in her voice.

Pritchard paused, not rushing, watching her reaction with a Zen-like patience. “I realize this is a difficult time for you, but we must move forward with the investigation and I am afraid I may have a few unpleasant questions to ask.”

“I understand. I’m sorry. How can I help?”

“Three strangers got friendly with one of the waitresses at Rosey’s shortly after she finished serving your aunt and uncle lunch. The waitress remarked that these strangers seemed impressed with your aunt and uncle’s yacht. Has anyone approached you recently with questions regarding the vessel?”

“No. I only arrived yesterday morning. My aunt and uncle picked me up at the airport and we went straight to their yacht. I came ashore yesterday evening to pick up a few items, but I haven’t had contact with anyone on the island other than small talk at the stores and at Rosey’s. But it doesn’t surprise me that those people were asking questions about the yacht—everybody is always impressed with her.” She paused, then corrected herself. “Well, they were, anyway.”

“These fellows asked questions that went beyond simple admiration.”

“Like what? Have you spoken to them?”