Fortunate Harbor (19 page)

“No, that’s
communism
, unless it’s managed from on high. Until we’re glorified, we just have to suck it up.”

“I am always interested in the way you think.”

Wanda liked the sound of that. Educating Janya was one of her missions in life.

They made a dozen trips back and forth to the van, careful not to carry more pies each time than they could safely manage. Wanda set the pies that didn’t need refrigeration on the island, then carefully took the Elvis Surprise, Key lime and luscious lemon out of their carriers and set them in the refrigerator.

When they were all finished and had locked the front door, she took the check made out to Wanda’s Wonderful Pies from the island and folded it in quarters, sticking it inside her ample bra, since her purse was in the car. “I guess we’re done.”

“They make a beautiful sight. She will be pleased, I’m sure.”

“Where do you suppose she has Elvis’s costume on display?”

Apparently Janya knew this was not a casual question. “Please! I don’t want to be found wandering through a stranger’s house.”

Wanda considered. The temptation to go looking for the King’s stage regalia was extreme. In the end, though, she had to admit Janya was right.

“Maybe I’ll be back,” she said. “And maybe next time someone will be here to show me.”

“There is a better chance of that if we leave now, as we should.”

“I guess.” Wanda took one more look around the envy-worthy kitchen. She wanted to remember every detail for that day when the heavenly hosts started reassigning assets.

She followed Janya through a doorway leading into a long, glassed-in porch. The kitchen had no view of the water. The view had been saved for this.

“Ohmigod.” Wanda stopped to stare. “Will you look at this?”

Janya was doing exactly that. Beyond them was a pool with a grotto set off to one side and a waterfall cascading over rocks.

But straight ahead the pool melted into the gulf, which melted into the sky. Wanda felt as if she had been plunged into eternity.

“They must spend their lives here,” Janya said. “How could they ever be enticed to leave? They must eat all their meals here. Sleep here.”

Wanda hoped that was all true, although she doubted it. People got used to their blessings, forgot they were blessed at all and went in search of more. She’d done it a time or two herself. That was just human nature.

“Where do you suppose that pool house is? That skunk CJ Craimer gets to look at this whenever he wants. You need further proof life’s not fair?”

“Perhaps the pool house is over to the side so it is not in the way.”

“Well, we’d better get going.” She ushered Janya through the door, then with an audible sigh, she closed it behind them and heard the lock click. She expected to be hit with a wall of heat, but a soft breeze blew off the water and rippled across her skin.

“If that don’t beat all. I bet they don’t even have mosquitoes here.”

“Will mosquitoes be split up and portioned out in this heaven of yours?” Janya asked. “Will anybody want them?”

“Mosquitoes go somewhere down below, I’m pretty sure.”

“That’s good.”

Wanda started toward the grotto, then around it, where Janya had guessed the pool house might be hiding. Sure enough, a perky little building in the same color stucco and with the same red tile roof sat immediately beyond the highest part of the rock formation, separated from the remaining edge of the pool by a narrow podocarpus-lined patio. Just in front of the pool house, cast-iron chairs clustered around a matching table shaded
by a green-and-white-striped umbrella. Inside, curtains graced the windows. Clearly this was not a storage shed.

“So this is where CJ hangs out,” Wanda said. “He could have done worse. He can take a dip in privacy anytime he wants to.”

“After a year in prison, he must feel he is living in a castle.”

“No, when he needs a castle, he just knocks on that door.” Wanda nodded back toward the house, which was no longer visible.

“I wonder if Tracy has seen this.”

Wanda faced her. “You think she’s
that
friendly with him, he’d invite her?”

“She’s lonely, and once she must have cared about him.”

“I don’t trust that man. And I’m a cop’s wife. I have a sick sense.”

“Do you mean sixth sense?”

“No, I mean I know when something makes me feel sick, and CJ does. I get a queasy feeling around him, like something’s just not right.”

Janya looked worried. “Tracy says she’s watching him, but I don’t know….”

“We should keep our eyes open, too. Let’s have a look in his window. Eyes wide-open.”

“No, watching is good, but that is an evasion of privacy.”

“
In
vasion, and how can it be if the man’s not home?”

“It is still not right.”

Wanda knew that, in theory, Janya was correct. But even for a cop’s wife, right and wrong could be slippery at moments like these. What if she and Janya saw something that saved Tracy heartache? What if they saw something that saved Happiness Key from legal shenanigans?

“Just a quick peek,” she decided out loud.

“You peek. I will enjoy the sound of this waterfall.”

That seemed fair. “You enjoy it from around the other side, okay? And if somebody comes this way, say ‘hi’ real loud, so I’ll know we got a visitor. That work for you?”

Janya gave a nearly invisible nod.

Wanda looked around, just to be sure nobody was already sneaking up on them; then she hurried over to the pool house and peeked in the first window she came to. She had her nose up against the glass before she realized a dark bamboo shade was drawn. With the afternoon sun reflecting off the panes, she hadn’t been able to tell. The next one proved to have the same drawn shade, but the door was next, and this time she hit pay dirt.

She hit more than pay dirt, she almost hit the floor. Leaning against the door to peer inside, she nearly fell in when it swung open to reveal that the pool house living room was as cute as a button. Cute and cluttered with papers. Papers everywhere. On the wicker coffee table. On the sofa upholstered in a tropical floral. On the woven jute rug.

She checked the doorknob. The lock was uncomplicated and in lock position, but apparently CJ hadn’t quite pulled the door shut, which was the reason she was now standing inside. Wanda calculated. She had no idea how long she had before Janya insisted they leave, or, worse, somebody caught her rifling through CJ’s belongings, because that was exactly what she was about to do. She’d fallen into something here, almost literally, and was she a woman to let fortune pass her by? Not likely.

Before she could listen to the voice in her brain that was screeching a warning, she stomped farther inside and went right to the sofa, adorned with pages like fallen autumn leaves.

Scooping up a bunch of papers, she perched on the edge and flipped through them. She had no idea what she was
looking for, but she planned to commit what she saw to memory, then ponder it as soon as she found time.

“Well, forget that!” she said out loud.

Suddenly she was looking at a familiar floor plan. Her own house, with its measly little kitchen and postage-stamp living room, and on the next sheet, stapled to it, an expanded version! A kitchen she could move around in, living room opened up and extended with walls of windows. That sure wouldn’t be smart in a hurricane, since the windows were on the gulf side of the house, but still…

She squinted at the rest of it. This bathroom was double the size of hers, where, right now, she could brush her teeth in the sink, spit in the toilet and take a shower, all without shifting her feet. Two sinks. Two! And a shower stall with room to move around.

She didn’t have time to wonder what it meant. Reluctantly, she sifted through the other papers on that stack. More house plans. Without looking harder, she couldn’t be sure of specifics, but she was almost certain these were the other cottages on Happiness Key.

But why did CJ have these plans? Exactly what was he going to do with them?

Again, she had no time to wonder. She put the stack back where it had been and picked up the next one within reach, leaning back against the cushions to study the pages. These drawings took more time to figure out. She finally realized she was looking at the pieces of a map. She imagined if she had time to assemble them all, she might be able to figure out the whole thing. But there were notes in some sort of jargon or code on every page, and areas shaded in a variety of colors. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she might be looking at some
sort of topographical map of Happiness Key. But what were all the notes about? Was this left over from the days when CJ had planned to build an upscale development and marina where her own house now stood?

If so, why did he still have it? To help Tracy plan for her future? Or was he conniving to steal what had once been his?

She put that stack back, too, then sat motionless for a moment and listened to be sure she had more time to investigate. Janya would be looking for her soon. There was only so much time a woman could contemplate a waterfall, even for a good purpose.

When her ears said all was still calm outside, she dived into more piles. Notes this time, not maps and not house plans. Just notes, and she thought they might coordinate to the codes she’d noted on the maps. Again, though, she couldn’t make heads or tails of what CJ had written. He’d been doing some sort of research, she could tell that much. He seemed to be ticking off things he had checked. But beyond that, she was in the dark.

Her time had run out. Janya was going to have a hissy fit when she realized Wanda was making herself comfortable in the living room, instead of playing Peeping Tom at the window. She got up to leave and did a quick check to be sure she’d put everything back the way she’d found it. That was when she noticed a file folder more than half-hidden behind a sofa cushion. She realized she had probably dislodged it when she sat. Now she was torn. She didn’t have time to discover what CJ Craimer thought he should hide from view.

But she didn’t have the willpower not to.

She tugged the folder from its hiding place and opened it, expecting more Happiness Key documents. Instead she realized she was reading papers on Creative Development and Invest
ment letterhead. Copies, and not particularly well made ones, as if whoever had done the work had been in too much of a hurry to center the paper or find a setting that would have made for a cleaner copy. She held the folder closer and leafed through the pages inside. A picture emerged. Each page was documentation on the sale of a residence. Basic information at the top, like owner’s names, address, square footage, name of subdivision and lot number.

Below that, the price paid and the new owner’s name. So maybe these houses had been bankrolled by Creative Development. Nothing strange about that, although why CJ had bad copies in his possession, and why he had them
hidden
, was more interesting.

She looked more closely at one. Under the price paid, she noted an appraisal price that was substantially higher. So maybe somebody got a good deal. Then she saw a list of problems with the house, plus estimates for repairs and renovations, some of them substantial. The next line was most puzzling. A bank—not Creative Development—was listed as mortgage holder, then the amount of the mortgage appeared, which looked to Wanda as if it was the entire appraisal figure. That was when she noted the date. This transaction had occurred several years ago, when real estate was booming and banks were clamoring to give away money to anybody with a beating heart.

Had Creative Development bought these homes recently to rehab them? Or maybe the new owner was a contractor who worked with Statler. But how could a dilapidated house be a worthwhile investment now, at a time when every residential block in town either had a short sale or foreclosure sign in front of at least one house? Was Edward Statler simply a genius who could pick up houses cheap with no money down, renovate
them, then sell them for a handsome profit? What was that called these days? Flipping? Sure, Florida was full of homes that probably needed to be flipped, but in this economy, who was going to buy the finished product?

More important, why did CJ have these pages hidden away? What did any of this have to do with him?

She didn’t think twice. She removed one of the sheets, folded it, then folded it again until it, too, fit inside her bra. Then she finished looking through the file. The pages at the back were something completely different. These were simple loan applications, like the ones with which a buyer started the loan approval process. Again, she didn’t think. She grabbed one—these were copies, after all, so who was she going to hurt?—and folded it quickly to stuff beside the other. She turned to hide the file where she’d found it.

That was the moment when she heard voices.

“I can’t believe you want to be here while the party preparations are going on. You could have waltzed back home in time to dress.”

The voice was male, and familiar. Considering where she was standing, Wanda guessed it belonged to one CJ Craimer. For a moment she froze. She was about to get caught red-handed. As far as she could tell, the house had one door, and she was facing it.

Somebody answered. “Sally’s made it plain that if I’m not here to listen to her gripe and grouse while she does the last-minute stuff, she’s going to divorce me.”

The second voice was male, too. And since she knew from the check that Mrs. Statler’s given name was Sally, Wanda was pretty sure she was listening to the voice of Edward Statler.

Not only was CJ going to catch her red-handed, but the
husband of the woman who had practically bailed out Wanda’s Wonderful Pies with her order was going to catch her, too.

Wanda tried to imagine hiding somewhere to emerge later, when CJ left again. But the pool house was tiny. She could try a closet or the floor under the bed, but she still had Janya to think about. Janya was unlikely to leave her here to her own devices, plus Wanda had the van key.

What would Janya do when Wanda was nowhere in sight?