Murder by the sea, p.1
Murder by the Sea, page 1
MURDER BY THE SEA
SKYE WILLIAMS KENYAN COZY MYSTERY
BOOK ONE
DANILLE COLLINS
Copyright © 2024 Danielle Collins
All Rights Reserved
Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. All people, places, names, and events are products of the author’s imagination and / or used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Mariah Sinclair / www.mariahsinclair.com
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Thank You!
1
If Skye Williams had known she’d face the risk of drowning later that day, she’d never have left her hotel room.
It was early morning, and Skye lifted her head from the cluster of cotton bedsheets to stare out of the open balcony door. Rays of sunlight splashed across her face, making her squint. A gentle, salty breeze wafted into the room, complemented by the distant sound of waves hitting the shore.
She turned to check the fan standing by the nightstand. It whirred in the usual silent fashion. Refusing to waste another moment in bed, Skye threw off the sheets and put her feet on the warm wooden floor. The coastal town of Fedha was always hot, even early in the morning, gradually getting worse as the day wore on. That’s why she slept in a t-shirt and shorts.
Skye smiled as she strolled to the balcony, where the morning heat struck her face. Was this for real? Was she really back after all these years? Gratitude flowed through her as she closed her eyes and relished the warmth. Somehow deep inside, Skye knew this was going to be the adventure of a lifetime.
She was on the third floor of the Sama Sama Hotel, and that accorded her some luxuries, like a magnificent view of the oceanfront. The water that morning was sapphire blue, rising in creeping waves that kissed the sandy shore.
She’d only been in the East African town of Fedha for two months and was still getting used to it. However, it was familiar to her. Although she’d been born in the United States, she’d spent most of her early childhood in Fedha after her father was posted there for work. In her teens, he was transferred again, and her family moved back to the United States. Her parents had never returned, but Skye couldn’t get Fedha out of her mind even as she navigated adulthood.
Skye had built her adult life in the Big Apple, starting out as a photographer and later running a successful marketing agency. But as she got closer to her forties, she started craving something else. She saved up and visited Fedha five years earlier for a brief holiday as she tried to figure things out. Now at forty-one, she knew for sure that returning to the place where she grew up was the right move. It was a crazy thought, leaving the life you’d built to start another one on a different continent based on childhood nostalgia, but it was more than that. This felt vital to her well-being.
Skye took a deep breath as she enjoyed the view once again. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in ages.
The previous night had been a wild one. Fedha was a quiet town with warm people, yet it came alive after sunset with a legendary nightlife. You could paint the town red, experiencing street performers, great restaurants, and live bands to dance away your worries. Skye still felt the soreness in her feet. Dancing in sandals hadn’t been a great idea, but she had been having so much fun she didn’t care.
Skye had gone out with Kris, a friend from college who was born and bred in Fedha. They’d met on campus while studying at Syracuse University. Right after graduating, Kris had returned home and now ran the communications department for a marine research institute in the small town. During her downtime, she became Skye’s tour guide, helping her settle in while exposing her to as many fun experiences as possible.
Skye was still lost in thought when she heard a fast, fervent knock on her door. She turned, wondering why room service would be so eager. After pulling on a robe, she walked to the door. It didn’t have a peephole, so she used the best tool she had—her voice.
“Who is it?” Skye asked.
“Girl, it’s me! Open up,” a raspy female voice replied.
Skye smiled and unlocked the door. As soon as it opened, a woman with perfect hair and makeup waltzed into the room. She wore a colorful sundress, sandals, and sunglasses while carrying a small purse. She propped the purse on the coffee table and spun around. “So, are you ready?”
Skye stared back at her, wide-eyed. “Ready for what? I just woke up.”
Kris lowered her sunglasses so that her eyes peeked over the rim. “You’re kidding me, right? It’s ten in the morning.”
“Seriously?” Skye picked her watch from her bedside table. It read 10:02 a.m. “Oh, boy.” She knew she should have set an alarm, but it still felt like she was on vacation. No one wants to set an alarm on vacation.
Kris checked the clock. “You know we’re supposed to take a tour around Old Town at eleven and then catch the boat ride to the islands after that.”
“I know!” Skye had already thrown off the robe and grabbed her towel, heading for the shower. “Gimme ten.”
“Make it five.”
“Good grief! The tour isn’t until eleven!”
Kris rolled her eyes. “You might be blonde, but you’re not dense. You know we’re going across town!” She grabbed her phone out of her purse. “You have twenty minutes, and I’m starting a timer. Hurry!”
Skye shook her head and entered the shower. She loved long, hot showers where she could relax and think, but today, there was only urgency. By some miracle, she made it with a few minutes to spare.
“Cute outfit,” Kris commented as she reached for her purse. “Not that you have many choices in this heat.”
Skye laughed as she glanced down at her clothes. She’d selected a light t-shirt, khaki pants, and sandals. The heat demanded it. Skye started tossing things into her backpack, because she was finally taking Kris up on her offer to stay at her apartment. In the middle of doing so, her phone rang. Staring at the screen, she said, “I’ve got to take this. It’s Mom.”
Kris grinned. “Say hi to her for me.”
“Hi, Mom. Kris says hi too.”
“They joined you two at the hip,” her mother replied.
“It’s become a thing. Is everything okay? We were just about to head out.”
“Everything’s fine. I was just checking in.”
“It must be two in the morning there or something. Why are you still up?” Skye asked.
Her mother sighed. “I needed to get some water, so I decided to call you as well. Having you halfway across the world needs some getting used to.”
Skye knew her parents missed her and had fond memories of Fedha. They had reluctantly moved back to the States. Often, during family dinners, they’d mention Fedha in their conversations. Skye often wondered why they hadn’t traveled back if they missed it so much.
“I hear you, Mom. Don’t worry, I’m doing great. Still getting used to the heat and the language, though. How’s Dad?”
“You know how he is. He’s supposed to be hitting the sack but keeps watching replays of the ball game.”
Skye’s eyes widened. “Why are you both up so late?”
Her mother chuckled. “Let us enjoy our freedom. Have you found somewhere to live?”
“I’m getting there. I’m actually going to be crashing at Kris’s place temporarily. She’s been good to me,” Skye said as she turned to see Kris curtsy. “Besides, I’ve got the van for backup in case she snores too loud.”
Kris frowned and smacked Skye on the arm.
“You can’t live in a van with all that heat! What about a place of your own?” Her mother asked this question each time they spoke, and Skye had been trying to dodge answering it in recent weeks. Today, for some reason, she was going to break that trend.
“Let’s put it this way… I’ve found my future home.”
Her mother’s voice rose in pitch, as if she was surprised. “Oh, fabulous! When are you moving in?”
“That part will take a while,” Skye said, pursing her lips. She could hear her mother frown.
“Why is that?”
“It’s yet to be built.”
There was an audible gasp on the other side of the phone. “Are you kidding me? You’re building a house?”
“It’s not a house, Mom.”
“What is it, then?”
“Remember the place we owned when we used to live here? Well, I found it for sale, and I bought it,” Skye said as she rubbed her forehead, waiting for the inevitable. There was silence on the other end for several seconds.
“You what?” her mother asked softly.
“I came back and bought our former home.”
Another few beats of silent breathing. “How is it?”
Skye sighed. “Honestly, it’s seen better days. The house itself was torn down ten years ago
Her mother sniffled over the phone. “Oh my, I can’t believe this. I’ve just had a rush of glorious memories that we made there. While I think it's crazy that you bought it, I understand what you mean. What do you want to build?”
Skye hesitated for a few moments, debating how much to tell her mom. Would she be supportive, or would she think Skye was taking on too much? Her mom had always been a worrywart, especially when it came to her daughter. Finally, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and forged ahead. “Well, I need to make this move back here work, so I was thinking a motel would do the trick.” Skye closed her eyes and cringed as her mother gasped.
“Child, where are you going to get the cash to build that after buying the place?”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make it work.”
“I’m not sure what to say. Goodness. Just let us know if you need anything. We’ll be here for you, baby,” her mother said.
“I know. And I appreciate that.” Skye felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Kris pointing at her watch. “I’ve got to go, Mom.”
“One more thing before you go. I always thought I’d go back, but since that hasn’t happened, I’ll ask for two favors from you.”
“Shoot,” Skye replied as she moved to grab her purse.
“First, can you take pictures and send them over? I’d love to see how it looks now. The other thing will sound a little like a treasure hunt, because it sort of is. I buried a small metal case next to one of the load-bearing beams. At the foot of the staircase. I’d be grateful if you’d find it for me before you start construction.”
Skye’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, you buried a metal case under the house? What’s inside?”
“When you find it, you’ll know.”
What was her mom talking about? She’d buried something? And now Skye had to dig it up? “But how do I find it? I don’t even have a floor plan of how the house looked.”
“Well, that’s a good point. You need to find an old family friend. Her name is Tabitha Msaro. We used to talk on the phone until about a year ago. Goodness, I hope she’s still around. She knew that place like the back of her hand. Promise me you'll look for it.”
“I promise, Mom. Love you, and we’ll talk soon.”
“Take care of yourself, sweetie.”
As soon as Skye hung up, Kris grabbed her arm. “Let’s get out of here. We’re gonna be late!”
After Skye checked out of the hotel, they rushed through the streets of Fedha. Skye was sure they looked like madwomen. Everybody else walked at a casual pace while the pair alternated between a brisk walk and a light jog. They were soon sweating. It didn’t help that Skye was lugging her backpack.
“This isn’t healthy,” Skye remarked as she struggled to catch her breath.
“It’s what happens when you sleep in,” Kris said with a cheeky wink.
“Why didn’t you come with the van?”
“I told you, she refused to start this morning,” Kris replied.
Skye grunted. Her bright yellow Volkswagen Kombi camper van was from the late eighties and prone to temperamental behavior. However, unlike Kris, Skye knew how to get it going every time. She never should have left it at Kris’s apartment the other day, but transportation was sometimes tricky in Fedha.
Skye switched her backpack to her other shoulder as they continued to hurry, but then she suddenly stopped. “I know! We’re getting a tuk tuk.”
Kris spun round. “What? The bus stop is just a mile away.”
“A tuk tuk is what we need. It will have a great breeze and won’t stop along the way,” Skye replied, already looking for one.
“I wanted you to get a taste of our mini buses, which you’ve avoided all week,” Kris protested.
“We’ll do it. I’m here to stay, remember?” Skye smiled.
Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait long. A green, three-wheeled, motorized rickshaw—the tuk tuk—appeared. In less than a minute, they’d haggled the price and boarded. The rear bench, sturdy and unforgiving, could seat three passengers, but the two were glad they had it all to themselves.
Kris made the driver stop at a famous street food stand and they bought chicken shawarma and a doner meat kebab, which they ate as they traveled. The tuk tuk wasn’t built for comfort, so every bump in the road could be felt, but this was balanced out by the soothing breeze they felt coming from the open side panels as they sped down the streets.
They arrived at the Fedha Museum just as the tour guide finished briefing the group of twenty guests. Skye and Kris blended into the crowd as they walked through the museum and later onto the narrow streets of Old Town. The streets had wonderful Swahili and Arabic carvings on the windows and doors, which the tour guide explained in detail. Each home had a balcony overlooking the next, built with courtyards and large windows to make the constant coastal heat bearable.
As Skye listened, her mind wandered to one of the faint memories she had of her childhood. She was running through one of the Old Town streets, skipping gaily while holding an ice cream cone in one hand. Her parents had just bought it from Mzee Katana’s Ice Cream Parlor, and she felt on top of the world.
“Have you ever heard of Katana’s Ice Cream Parlor?” Skye whispered to Kris.
Kris glowed. “I loved that place as a kid. It’s still there, although the street has changed. The old man is frail, but his sons do a good job of running the place. Wanna check it out?”
“Sure. Let’s make it happen,” Skye said excitedly.
“Maybe next time. We’ll miss the boat ride if we try it today.”
After the tour ended, they took another tuk tuk to the pier. As they arrived, Skye saw five mid-sized boats lined up. Some had masts, while others had outboard engines of various sizes. They also had strange names like The Hippo’s Tongue, Octopus Love, and Starfish Express.
“Which is ours?” Skye asked before realizing she needn’t have asked. Kris was already exchanging waves with a man who stood next to the furthest boat in the lineup. The boat was christened Mkeka wa Aladdin. The man was short-haired, wearing an unbuttoned polo shirt and shorts. He grinned from ear to ear.
“Karibu, welcome. This our boat for the day,” the man said, grinning. He had a heavy Swahili accent, and his sweat-soaked forehead glistened in the sun as he shook both their hands. “My name is Bob Ganze. I’m your nahodha, your captain. This is Mkeka wa Aladdin. You know, from the famous story about Aladdin and the flying carpet,” Bob said.
“I get you,” Skye said, smiling.
They scanned the boat. The boat itself was about twelve feet long with a hardtop covering the helm and a large outboard motor. Four cushy seats were behind the captain, two of which were thankfully covered by the hardtop.
Skye had only been on a boat twice in her lifetime—once as a child living in Fedha and another time while taking a cruise on the Hudson River. She’d enjoyed the ride as a child. In contrast, the Hudson River cruise hadn’t been magical, mainly because she took it while on a date. Her date was rambling about his knowledge of boats and fishing instead of talking about himself. The problem with taking a boat cruise for a date was you couldn’t leave if it wasn’t working out. She’d had to endure it all. By the end of the date, she knew so much about boats and shipping that she’d never wanted to be on one again.
“Let’s hop on,” Kris said, leading the way.
As they got further from land, Skye felt a strange combination of mild anxiety and exhilaration. It was an odd sensation, but at least it wasn’t seasickness. To manage it, she took out her camera and got busy taking as many photos as she could.
Bob talked a lot as he drove them toward the islands, telling them a bit about their destination, Samara Island. Once covered by mangrove forests, it was historically considered a place where mermaids lived. No one had ever ventured there until smugglers discovered it and made it an unsafe shipping route. In recent years, the local authorities scared off the smugglers. To prevent their return, half the mangrove forest was cleared. A beach resort and small museum were constructed in its place. The myth about the mermaids started waning.
Skye was enjoying the bobbing of the boat and the wind in her hair when suddenly the boat lurched. The water stopped rushing by, and the loud engine went quiet.
