Miller sat in his favourite spot with his feet on the railing eating slices of pineapple and watching the sun rise like an amber balloon above the ocean. There was no wind at all and the water looked frozen it was so still. Juice ran between his fingers and he licked them and wiped them on his shorts.

His dinner with Billy had been wonderful in spite of the reason and the tension it caused. Her knack for ordering just the right mix of foods to compliment the taste was extraordinary. They had sat for at least three hours nibbling on different dishes and drinks, listening to the water and the musical sounds of the night.

Miller had been surprised to learn that they were on the northern end of the Mocha Reever, as the bus driver had described it and that the hulking black shape in the distance was the base of the volcano, Great Tortuga.

When the taxi had taken them back to the resort, Billy had declined his invitation to Casa Faro and not offered one to her own quarters. She had retrieved the bag of money and sent him off with a peck on the cheek goodnight. The solution to the money problem was not resolved, at least in his mind, and as he wandered slowly home he puzzled over her reluctance to say any more about it. The pineapple juice was sticky on his fingers and he let his feet down from the railing and went inside to the sink to rinse them.

He glanced at the wardrobe where he had hidden the money on top, adjusting his luggage so that if it were moved the shaky furnishing would tilt forward and likely fall over. What he expected to happen he wasn't sure but it seemed like a good idea . . . a James Bond idea. The water sputtered out and he rinsed his hands then dried them on the towel. The sound of the door closing downstairs brought him to a silent alert.

"Hello?"

"Buenos dias, senor. Esta la sirvienta."

"Oh, okay. C'mon up."

"¿Qué?"

"Prosiga."

"Ah, si."

Miller heard the maid climbing the stairs and he wandered back out to the balcony figuring on staying out of her way until she was finished. A ragged parade of pale grey clouds slid across the flawless blue sky and he resumed his feet up position and sighed over the dazzling splendour of the view. The quiet of the morning cloaked him in a sleepy comfort and he closed his eyes concentrating on the normally unnoticed symphony of sounds from nature.

He could hear the maid busily working inside and he caught the trill of a telephone from the resort offices. Other than those intrusions it was all rustling leaves, chattering birds and insects and the creak of Casa Faro as if some ancient part or another needed to adjust its aching frame.

The crash inside jarred him physically and tipped him sideways out of the chair and onto his hands and knees on the balcony. He crawled around and peered in the door and saw the top of the maid, face down under the collapsed wardrobe; the bag of money was inches from her outstretched hand. Miller scrambled up and inside, lifting the awkward cabinet up and feeling it turn into a parallelogram as he forced it back against the wall. The maid didn't move and he wrestled his load around until it maintained its own balance then he knelt down and turned her over.

"Astrid!" He lifted up her head and gave her a little shake. "Astrid?"

The groan was low and soft and her eyes fluttered open focusing on Miller. They stared at one another for a few seconds and then with surprising strength, she shoved him back onto his rump and scrambled to her feet. The bag of money was between them and they both lunged at the same time, Miller's shoulder connecting with her head and she shot backwards and down the hole in the floor.

He hurried down after her and saw immediately that at least her arm had been broken and she wore several scratches and red marks on her face. He helped her to a sitting position and then ran back up for some water. Astrid leaned against the wall crying. Her skirt was torn and her blouse was filthy and she hurt in so many places; too many to zero in on one.

Miller tied a towel around her neck to support her arm and fed her sips of water. When she had calmed a bit he made her tell him her story and when she finished he advised her to just say she slipped down the stairs-he would back her up-and forget everything about any money or he would turn her in to Warez without batting an eye.

"But it is mine . . ." Her protest was weak.

"Uh-uh, not yours, Astrid. I will promise you that it will go to a most deserving destination but it is definitely not yours. Not now, not ever. Entiendo?"

She sagged, defeated. "Si."

"Good, now let's get you some help."

********

"Senor Hunt, why is it every time we have an incident at this resort you are always involved?" Warez slapped his crop on the desk and with dismay, scattered his notes all over the floor. "Gomez!" The policeman standing nearby immediately jumped to attention and began gathering the errant sheets.

"That's cool," Miller remarked. "Where can I get a Gomez?"

"Flippancy is not appreciated, senor." He adjusted his tie and squared himself to the desk. "You say Senorita Montez slipped and fell down the stairs in your quarters. What was she doing there?"

"She came in to clean my room." Miller shrugged.

"Why would she be doing that when she is under arrest?"

"How is she under arrest if she's running around loose? Word about is she was released by you the other day."

Warez frowned. "Even so, she was not to be continuing her duties."

"So talk to her, I didn't make a special request you know. She just showed up."

"Did she say anything suspicious? How was she behaving?"

"Like a maid. She was dusting or whatever while I was on the balcony out of her way. Next thing I know she's fallen through the floor and down the stairs. That, by the way, is not a great selling point for Casa Faro."

"The curious thing is, Senor Hunt, that yours is the only room she was reported to have been inside." Dark eyebrows wiggled skeptically. "Also, I have a statement from one of the employees at the Dive Shop that you both were seen down there yesterday."

"I had a stand up lunch and a cerveza from the cart. I don't know anything about where Astrid Montez was."

"You did not see her?"

Miller wondered if whoever told Warez he was down there also saw Astrid and he around the shop at the same time. "Nope." Die cast.

"I am happy to tell you, senor, that you have been cleared of involvement in the killings, along with Senorita Estrada, however, you are not yet free to leave until all statements are formally taken and signed."

"When does that happen? I have a plane to catch at seven tomorrow morning."

"I cannot guarantee a time, senor. You will just have to adjust your schedule. This is after all a murder investigation and you are a visitor in a foreign country involved in that investigation." He tugged at his tie and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Miller could see the end of his crop slapping the back of his leg.

"We done now?"

"Si."

"Gracias." Miller left the lobby and headed for the bar.

********

Mendoza ducked down and offered his island welcome smile, immediately setting a glass of green liquid in front of Miller as he slid onto a stool.

"Now what? The last time it was blue and I tossed it all over a white jacket."

"This is, el cocodrilo, an island sensation."

Miller sipped cautiously and made a pleasing face. "Not bad. Not bad at all." He dare a larger sip and sat back licking his lips. Suddenly they went hot and his cheeks began to burn then his tongue shriveled like fried bacon. "Good God! Water. Quick!"

"Not again." Billy stood with her hands on her hips and her feet apart staring at Miller as he performed a erratic war dance around the front of the bar rolling his eyes and sucking his breath.

"Mendoza made me another drink." The words scraped out of his throat in painful sounding gasps.

Billy picked up the glass and smelled the contents and chuckled. "El cocodrilo."

Mendoza clapped his hands and laughed, nodding. "Lieva razón, Billy!"

"Yes, well being right doesn't win me anything, look at him. Give him some lime."

Miller allowed her to feed him a slice of lime and immediately the sensation of dying ended and the citreous juice slid down with unimaginable relief.

"Why do you do that to me, Mendoza?"

The big bartender handed him a napkin and replaced his drink with a more recognizable concoction. "You are so willing to taste them," he said.

"Isn't it a little early in the day anyway, Miller?" Billy warned.

"I just finished another session with the Cap-i-tain; he allows as how I am no longer his favourite suspect but I have to hang around until formal statements are taken and signed."

Mendoza moved away to serve a couple of youngsters wearing goggles and flippers and arguing about who could hold the money for their purchase. Billy led Miller over to a table and they sat close together in the warming sun.

"What happened with Astrid?" He told her the story and said that they came to an agreement . . . her silence about the money or full blame for the theft.

"She agreed?"

"What choice? If she said no I would have turned her and the money over to Warez and she would be off to jail in jig time."

"And Warez would have the money." Billy sighed and drummed her fingers on the glass table.

"Hey, I did have to consider my own position. She could have said we were in it together and just had a falling out."

"I know. I'm sorry, Miller." They fell into a glum silence. Billy drew imaginary patterns with her thumbnail. "So now what?"

"Now I wait to sign a formal statement. Who knows how long that will take."

"And the money?"

"I've made a decision about that. I figure what the hell, my entire vacation was screwed from the get-go and it looks like I'm gonna have more problems with getting home so now I know exactly what I'm gonna do with it."

She looked at him with a mix of uncertainty and disappointment. "Miller, you really think you've made the right decision?"

"Absolutely." He stared her down and then stood up, stretching. "I've got packing to do in case I get lucky so I'll see you later." He wandered off feeling her eyes drilling him with complete shock.