The Girl with the Dragonfruit Tattoo


 
 
 
 
 
 
 Copyright © 2023 by Carrie Doyle
 Cover and internal design © 2023 by Sourcebooks
 Cover art by Patrick Knowles
 Sourcebooks, Poisoned Pen Press, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.
 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
 The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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 Published by Poisoned Pen Press, an imprint of Sourcebooks
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 Contents
 Front Cover
 Title Page
 Copyright
 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
 Chapter 24
 Chapter 25
 Chapter 26
 Chapter 27
 Chapter 28
 Chapter 29
 Chapter 30
 Chapter 31
 Chapter 32
 Excerpt from Something's Guava Give
 Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
 Acknowledgments
 About the Author
 Back Cover
 
 
 To Nadia and all the Caribbean fun we’ve had.
 
 
 Chapter 1
 The Caribbean island of Paraiso is known for its lush scenery, uncrowded white-sand beaches, excellent snorkeling, delicious local food, and charming people. Las Frutas, the island’s premier luxury resort, has been a favorite destination for discerning travelers for over fifty years. Boasting two world-class golf courses, twelve clay tennis courts, a shooting range, polo fields, a marina where you can dock your yacht, and several outstanding restaurants, Las Frutas will fulfill all your wildest dreams.
 Plum Lockhart’s fingers paused above her computer’s keyboard. The description felt generic and trite. Not to mention totally fabricated. If someone were to put her on a witness stand, she would not be able to honestly swear under oath that she had met one person who had all their wildest dreams fulfilled at Las Frutas. They may have had a great vacation, yes. Or more recently, they may have ended up murdered, which was unfortunate and quite tragic. But she couldn’t write that.
 Set on the edge of the sparkling Caribbean Sea, the four-thousand-acre resort is situated on a former sugar plantation…
 Okay, she had to stop there as well. Now that the world was finally acknowledging the traumatic history of plantations, it was not exactly a selling point or something to brag about. The Rijo family, who owned the resort and all the sugarcane fields on the island, were both revered and reviled.
 Boasting a vibrant nightlife and a slower pace of life, Las Frutas Resort…
 Again, Plum hesitated. Wasn’t that an oxymoron? Peaceful and frenetic? She sounded confused. Plum sighed deeply and snapped her laptop closed with frustration. Her colleague Lucia glanced up from her desk and stared at her through her thick glasses, her wise eyes scrutinizing Plum.
 “What’s wrong?” asked Lucia with concern.
 The sixty-four-year-old stocky grandmother was a reassuring presence at Plum Lockhart Luxury Retreats. Lucia was calm, practical, rarely ruffled, and fortunately one of the most competent and sharp Paraisons Plum had met.
 “It’s so unlike me, but I’m having a difficult time updating our website and marketing materials,” Plum responded tartly.
 “Why do we need to update it?” asked Lucia. “It’s perfect.”
 Plum gave her a patient and, yes, patronizing, look. Lucia might be savvy, but Plum prided herself on being an expert at marketing and promotion—she would own up to self-promotion as well. She had the esteemed career to prove her expertise. Her tenacity had helped her ascend her from a lowly intern at a beauty magazine to the editor in chief of Travel and Respite Magazine in only a decade. When the world of publishing went belly-up and her magazine job imploded earlier this year, Plum left New York City and moved to Paraiso, diving into a new profession as a villa broker leasing beautiful mansions to vacationers. She was proud that she had been nimble and able to reinvent herself without missing a beat.
 True, there were a few bumps along the way. Plum had initially gone to work for Jonathan Mayhew Caribbean Escapes (she would claim he wooed her; he would claim she begged him), but it had ended badly, and after only a couple of months, she had set out on her own and established her eponymous firm. There were also the pesky abovementioned murders on the island, which Plum somehow found herself embroiled in through no fault of her own. She swore she would run for the hills next time she suspected anything close to homicide in her path.
 Despite the setbacks, there was good news as well. Her agency was gaining traction: she had several villas she now represented, and clients were reaching out to secure houses for their vacations. Plum’s romantic life, which had been nonexistent until recently, showed a glimmer of promise.
 “Lucia, it’s important to remain current,” explained Plum in a tone she thought was instructive but was in reality slightly condescending. “That’s why I am constantly tweaking.”
 “Tweaking, twerking—your silly stuff isn’t necessary,” said Lucia, waving a dismissive hand in the air.
 Plum sighed. “Oh, really?”
 “Oh, really, yes,” agreed Lucia emphatically. “Everyone knows Paraiso is the best island in the world. That’s all you need to say.”
 Plum smiled. “I love your patriotism.”
 Lucia shrugged. “You can call it patriotism; I call it fact. And no matter how many fancy words you use like breathtaking, exotic, tropical, it all means the same thing. I wouldn’t waste any more