Murder in Paradise

Murder in Paradise Copyright © 2023 by Cara Kent All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Author's Note Also by Cara Kent One rainy Thursday, David Carter sat on the sofa in his living room pleading for his life. He thought he had a lot to live for. While he had no immediate family of his own—he was never lucky enough to settle down—there were some nieces and nephews and cousins who liked him. He was a savvy businessman and gave money to a lot of charities. These factors made him feel like his life was worth saving. The man standing before him, or rather The Puzzler—he hadn’t settled on a name yet—respectfully disagreed. He wasn’t sure if he really needed one. All the greats had names or scary monikers: The Zodiac Killer, Toy Box Killer, Boston Strangler, The Mad Butcher. But he wasn’t setting out to be like them. Serial killer wasn’t on his list of dream occupations. But that was what he was, or at least what he would be by the end—when everything was said and done and his plan had come to fruition. The day had started fairly normally. The Puzzler sat in a car a few houses down from David’s. This was how he had started his day for the past couple of weeks. But today was different. As he waited for David to leave for work, a thought flickered in his mind. The media would create a name for him. So he didn’t have to worry about it. He just hoped that it wasn’t something stupid or mundane. Not that it mattered. David Carter exited his house and got into his black Lexus. A few seconds later, he drove off, going in the opposite direction from where he was watching.The Puzzler waited for him to drive off and round the corner before he started his car. He knew where David was going. The same place he went every morning: work. Then he would go to a restaurant with a colleague for lunch, then back to the office, where he would stay until a little after six. He wouldn’t get home until dark. Instead of following him, The Puzzler went in the opposite direction and parked a few blocks away. While the car was his, the license plate was not. He had swiped one at a grocery store miles away from his home. Just in case someone had seen it in the neighborhood. The Puzzler had taken great precautions. He wasn’t a man who did things without thinking. Each step, each plan was crafted meticulously. Every contingency had been accounted for, and every backup had a backup. The Puzzler was ready for everything—right down to how it all would end.Breaking into David’s home was easier than he had expected. That was the thing about living in a safe neighborhood where nothing bad ever happened. David had the illusion of safety. But no one was ever really safe. No matter how things seemed.David felt so safe that he didn’t even bother locking his back door. All he had to do was wander through the backyard, walk up to the back door, and turn the knob. There was no security system either. The house was clean. The cleaning lady, Mrs. Kāne, only came on Mondays, so he didn’t have to worry about someone showing up while he was there. David lived a remotely quiet life. He had friends he hung out with and had dinner with, but they never seemed to come to his house.This gave The Puzzler time to breathe, search, relax in a home that wasn’t his, and wait for the owner to return. It was a long wait, but he had known it would be. He wore two pairs of latex gloves on each hand as he perused around the house. Looking in drawers. In closets. Under beds. And anywhere else that looked like a good hiding place. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for or if he would ever find it. He walked around until he found the office. On one wall was a long bookcase filled with books. On the other side of the room was a wooden desk that looked too expensive to touch, let alone work on.He sat at the desk and rummaged through the drawers. He moved the mouse, and the computer screen turned on.“Password,” he said. He sighed. He looked around the desk for a sticky note or something that could be used as a password. He found nothing. This didn’t surprise him. David wasn’t stupid, so of course it wouldn’t be that easy.No, he would have to wait for him to come home.“I can give you money. An-anything you want.” David’s voice, trembling and hoarse, pulled The Puzzler out of his recollection. But it would do no good. David was used to buying people. Everyone wanted money. Everyone needed