Harsens Island (7 page)

He extended his hand this time and she clasped it.

“Thanks, Skipper,” she said, giving him a firm shake. “I appreciate the time.”

“And I tell you this, whoever was with her – if he’s alive – has some splainin’ to do once Rowland catches him.”

Sam was plain in her surprise.

“She was with someone?”

“Yes, ma’am. We got it on the machine, time-stamp and everything. It’s what bothers me most about the whole business. She wasn’t alone, but nobody knows who it was. Male, woman, blow-up doll – it was too dark to see what exactly. I’ve got the fear whoever it was is gone too, and may be the one who offed your friend. Besides, it’s what? Seven days? Friday night she comes over and by Saturday night, she’s chum. It’s a sad and crazy business.”

“I hadn’t heard that, either. You’re sure she was here Friday night?”

“Yup. She was here Friday night, twenty-four hours before she bobbed up, and where she was and who she was with is a mystery. I suspect Sheriff Rowland’s the only man has a clue. Have you had the pleasure?”

“Yeah, I have.”

“He is a fine, judicious man. He’ll give you the unvarnished skinny. And listen, next time you ride with us it’s on the house. I’ll spread the word.”

A pearl-white Cadillac Escalade was parked in Sam’s driveway. It was new and bore no plates. A woman sat on Sam’s front steps; she stood as Sam pulled in.

She was lean. She had shoulder length hair, a blend of gray and white. Her skin was pale brown. She wore black leather boots, dark blue denim pants, a black leather belt, and a long sleeve blouse, rolled to the elbows, with a distinctive pattern of muted, dark colors. She removed her sunglasses and revealed brown eyes; her teeth were bleached white. Sam guessed she was in her late fifties to early sixties.

“Ms. Melillo?”

“Yes.”

“Jennifer Melillo? Am I pronouncing it correctly?

“Yes, but please call me Sam.”

The woman extended a hand. Her grip was firm but not overwhelming, her fingernails manicured but unpolished. A silver bracelet jangled on her right wrist; an expensive looking watch gripped her left wrist.

“I’m Chief Lauren Redsky
. I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes. If you can spare the time, of course.”

“I suppose we can,” Sam said. “You live on Walpole, right?”

“Yes, exactly! How long have you been on Harsens? Almost two months, I hear?”

“Pretty close to it, yeah,” Sam said.

Redsky lifted her purse from the stoop and followed Sam onto the porch.

“Have a seat,” Sam said, gesturing, setting her own purse between a chair and the radio table.

As they sat, Redsky complimented her on the cottage’s restoration and the porch furniture; they discussed her new dress.

“A very smart purchase, indeed,” Redsky said. “Yesteryear acquires the best clothes, you know. When the yacht set leaves at summer’s end they place some of their clothes on consignment. I’ve purchased three-hundred dollar blouses for twenty, brand new, still with the original price tag.”

Sam moved the conversation forward.

“So you’re the chief of your – what do you call it? Your people? Your tribe?”

“I think of them as my family.”

Sam shifted in her chair, leaning closer. 

“Huh. How about that? So what’s on your mind, Chief? How can I help you?”

“Let’s talk about Lynn Hunter,” Redsky said. “What about her?” Sam said with mild disbelief.

“I was wondering if you had contact with her before she died.”

“Why?”

“She was our lawyer, or, I should say she represented the firm that handles our legal issues. I’ve come to understand she was your representative, too. Or am I incorrect?”

Sam couldn’t imagine the odds.

“How did you hear that?”

“We share mutual contacts through her firm, Houle and Kelly. One of their associates suggested I contact you.”

“Her firm is based in Manhattan. How did you get involved with them?”

“They handle the most difficult clients for those who can afford them. They possess connections to the Justice Department and a number of international corporations. They are, to a man and a woman, as vicious as starving, tortured dogs, which makes them the perfect firm for us. I came to see you in the hope you could provide insight about Ms. Hunter’s activities before her murder.”

The hair on the back of Sam’s neck stirred.

“You think she was murdered?”

“Most definitely. Don’t you? Can you think of another scenario?”

“I heard she drowned.”

“But you were there, and in fact pulled her from the depths?”

“Sorry, Chief,” Sam bristled, “but I don’t know what you’re driving at.”

Redsky displayed her teeth with pleasant force.

“Do you know who killed her?”

“Who said she was murdered?” Sam snarled.

“No one. At least not yet and not officially.”

“Then why do you keep saying it?” 

“Because I think she was,” Redsky said. “I’m uncertain why anyone would think otherwise. Also, as you’ve employed her firm, chances are it wasn’t to clear up a parking ticket. I imagine you’ve been naughty at some point or know some naughty people.”

Sam’s emotions flat lined.

“She drowned.”

Redsky again exposed her bright, white teeth.

“There’s a passage in the bible about all rivers flowing to the sea. The sea refuses no river? That was the point of the river, of her being in the river. She wasn’t
meant
to be found. The river betrayed her killer, sending her closer to land than intended, and by a miracle you did what you did.”

“It wasn’t a miracle,” Sam said. “It was a coincidence.”

“Miracles,” Redsky said, “aren’t uncommon if you believe in them.”

“Thanks, Chief, but I’m not buying whatever you’re selling.”

Redsky was persistent.

“How did you know it was Hunter?”

“I didn’t. People thought it was this refugee, this girl they call Moon.”

“Moon would’ve made matters far worse,” Redsky said.

Sam ignored the bait, stood, and gestured to the screen door.

“Have a good night, Chief.”

“Aren’t you curious about what happened to her?”

Sam went to the door and opened it.

     “Not in the slightest. You might want to share your theory with Sheriff Rowland.”

“We’ve already spoken. We’ve known each longer than you’ve been alive.”

“Then I’m sure it’s all in good hands.”

Redsky slid by Sam, thanking her for her time.

Sam responded with a neutral, “Good night,” thinking that despite her appearances and demeanor, Redsky was a nut.

She went to her radio, and turned it on with a sharp click.

It emitted a shriek of interference.

She swore softly, turned it off, turned it back on, adjusted the frequency, and got a similar result.

When she shut it off a second time, she was startled by Redsky’s voice on the steps behind her.

“That was very loud,” Redsky said.

“It’s nothing,” Sam said irritably. “It’s old and temperamental.”

“As am I,” Redsky said, and reentered the porch.

Sam was startled by Redsky’s nerve. 

“I know this music,” Redsky added, and with a smooth gesture picked up Sam’s purse and tossed it to the daybed.

“You’re crazy.”

Redsky smiled wolfishly.

“Let’s see if I am. Try it now. Turn it on.”

Sam complied, thinking it the easiest way to dismiss her unwanted guest. The radio caught a Spanish language broadcast. She immediately understood the implication. 

“It’s my phone,” she said.

“That’s a very pretty purse,” Redsky said. “A Jenna Kator, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Jenna Kator.”

“They make the loveliest things.”

Redsky retrieved the purse and the radio again erupted with static. When she waved the purse over the radio the interference climaxed – and when she held the purse at arm’s length away, the interference diminished.

She handed the purse to Sam.

“Take out the change. Get every coin. Empty it. Check the corners, deep in, the pockets, rips in the lining. You’ll want to locate the quarters, especially the quarters.”

Sam’s eyes flitted between her purse and Redsky. She found and displayed a mixture of pennies, dimes, and nickels. There were two quarters. The radio static remained steady.

Redsky gestured with her left palm.

“Take the quarters and step away. Give me the rest.”

Sam ignored her instruction, put the quarters in her left hand, and with her right placed the remaining change in her pants pocket. She shook the quarters in her left hand.

“This one,” Sam said, handing one of the quarters to Redsky. “It’s heavier.”

Redsky examined the coin, moving it over her fingertips, her eyelids narrowing, her brow wrinkling.

“There
is
a dissimilarity, a hairline break or crack on the edge, the circumference.”

“Cute trick,” Sam whispered. “Do you think it’s GPS or audio?”

“I imagine both,” Redsky said. “You’ve met Elon, haven’t you? Or should I say, ‘Snake’?”

Sam replayed the night of the drowning and the cheerful rescue of her purse. It was the last time she had seen him.

“You know him?” Sam asked.

“He’s done peripheral favors for us, but we ran afoul of another last December. He claims to be an undercover Homeland Security agent, but I think he’s merely an incredible liar. This,” Redsky said, examining the quarter, “is one of his calling cards. The little prick thinks he’s James Bond.”

Redsky flipped the coin.

Sam caught it mid-air, placed it on the radio and adjusted the volume to a low buzz. The radio’s ancient tubes, its electromagnetic field, would eventually cripple the device.

“Okay,” Sam said. “You’ve got my attention.”

“I’d like to have dinner,” Redsky said. “And to get away from this, whatever this is. I’d like you to be my guest. Nothing fancy.”

Sam pressed her lips together.

“Schoolhouse Grille?”

“No, no,” Redsky said. “We need someplace noisy.”

“Sans Souci?”

“Exactly. I’ll drive,” Redsky said.

“Works for me,” Sam said.

Sans Souci was French for “no worries”. The lifeblood of the restaurant and bar comes between Memorial Day and Labor Day when the summer guests, day tourists, and boating enthusiasts inundate the island. It’s during that time, on alternating Friday nights,
Van Halen
wannabes set up amplifiers, plug in hockshop Fenders, and play poorly and loudly as the singer’s forget the words to
Runnin’ With the Devil
. The ‘Saturday Night Fights’ are another long standing tradition. Shortly after closing, the parking lot sometimes becomes an impromptu boxing ring where lingering disputes, perceived injustices, and old scores are settled. During her first week on the island, Sam had lived off their menu. They catered the standards – hamburgers, fries, pizza and the like – and served the best perch and cod west of Bangor.

They arrived as the sun was setting.

Inside, a long bank of windows faced the river; an equally lengthy bar was anchored by televisions. As Redsky passed through the bar, she stopped several times to shake hands and exchange hellos.

Outside again, she led Sam to a small, white, circular plastic table that rested close to a gazebo spilling over with smoking revelers.

Globe-shaped lights, strung over the tables, cast a pale, yellowish glow. On each table a battery powered candle flickered.

“Looks like we’re in luck,” Sam said.

“There’s no luck involved,” Redsky said. “This is my table.”

“Your table?” Sam asked.

“Rank has its privilege,” Redsky said.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Sam said.

“With luck, you will.”

A server approached them, said, “I’ll be back in a jiff,” and disappeared.

Within another minute, a pitcher of beer and two glasses arrived from a second server, a young woman with purple hair and lip piercings.

“From a secret admirer, Chief,” she said.

“Thank you, Sally.”

“Could I get a glass of water?” Sam asked.

“You betcha, hon,” she said, and disappeared into the crowd.

“You’ll have better odds playing Powerball,” Redsky said, filling both glasses.

“No, thanks,” Sam said, gesturing. “I don’t drink.”

“
No!
Seriously?
Molson’s Golden is one of God’s greatest gifts. You shouldn’t deny yourself the pleasure.”

“Sounds like an advertising slogan,” Sam said. 

Redsky drank deeply from her first glass, raised an open palm to her mouth and burped loudly.

Sam said, “Wow.”

Redsky smiled.

“My father taught me that trick.”

“I learned a few from mine, too.”

“
I heard about your TKO with Clayton. Was that one of his tricks?”

“No,” Sam said. “I learned it online.”

“Your last name is Italian in origin, is it not?”

Sam was ready to talk business.

“Is Snake really with Homeland?”

“It’s possible, although he’s rather covert about his affiliations. And might I make a small suggestion regarding his name?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Call him
Elon
when you speak with him. Calling him
Snake
gives him power whereas using his Christian name has a neutering effect.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Sam said.

Redsky continued.

“He’s amiable and cunning. To listen to him would you think he’s capable of subterfuge?”

“He acts like an adult teenager,” Sam said. “I get the feeling he tries too hard to fit in.”

“Has he spoken to you about Moon?”

“No, but he said your family is in the human trafficking business.”

Redsky frowned and wrinkled her nose.

“Those words create such a negative image. We think of it as a concierge service.”

“For a fee.”

“Expenses and resources, naturally.”

“That’s a neat rationalization.”

Redsky placed her elbows on the table and interlaced her fingers. Her eyes bore a fierceness Sam had yet to see. She rearranged her last question.

“Has he told you about Moon?”

“No. What about her?”

A squat man with a limp, wearing a food-stained apron and a skewed black beret, delivered a plate of deep-fried mushrooms. He was unshaven and one of his top front teeth glittered with silver.

“Happy appetizer, Chief. Pizza will be another ten minutes, tops.”

“Thank you, Angelo. Do you know Sam?”

“
Sam
? A boy’s name for a pretty thing like you? What’s it short for? Samuel? Sam-you-well?”

He laughed loudly and hobbled away.

“Isn’t he the cook?” Sam said.

“Never call him a cook, dear. He’s a chef. He’s wonderful when he’s sober. The nights he’s deep in the bottle, like tonight, by the looks of it – ugh.”

“He brings food without either of us ordering?”

“He knows what I like and most people eat what I eat. There’s never a bill, and I tip like a drunk sailor on shore leave.”

Sam understood.

“Okay. So tell me about Moon.”

Redsky leaned back in her chair, her hands resting on her lap.

“I feel I can trust you,” Redsky said. “You won’t disappoint my trust, will you, Sam?”

“I won’t cross my heart and hope to die, if that’s what you’re asking. The trust is yours to give. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Redsky adjusted her chair, leaned forward, and spoke evenly, focusing her eyes on Sam.

“Moon’s family perished the night we attempted to take them off the island. We arrived late because of ice and poor weather. The delay provided our adversaries time to thwart us. Our boat sank. One of my family died in the water and a second perished of hypothermia two days later. Moon was the sole survivor of the encounter.”

Samantha motioned with her hands.

“Hold on – she was
on
Harsens?”

“She and her family, yes.”

“And they were trying to get to
your
island?”

“Correct.”

“That’s the reverse of what I’ve heard.”

“We’ve let the assumption stand.”

Sam leaned back.

“I’m sorry, but I’m confused.”

“It’s simple. We were trying to guide her family
out
of the United States. Moon is desired by an entity further up the food chain. We arranged to assist with that effort. She has been on Harsens ever since, pretending she doesn’t understand English, trying to stay alive and out of harm’s way until we can get her safely across.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“Why didn’t they fly or drive to Canada?”

“Passports would’ve been a red flag. They would’ve been detained.”

Redsky filled the beer glasses, her dark eyes darting between the liquid, the pitcher, and Sam.

“She’s American?” Sam asked.

“One hundred percent.”

Sam spun through the words.

“And they were deliberately sunk?”

“They were attacked. We believe Elon became aware of their departure and had a hand in the play but we’ve yet to prove it. And yes, sunk, deliberately and with malice aforethought or, as they say in the movies, extreme prejudice.”

Redsky raised her glass and drank with thirst.

“Moon is like you. She’s not what she appears to be and, in her way, like you, she can play off her looks. She looks like a little girl, doesn’t she?”

“I’ve heard she’s sixteen or seventeen.” Sam said. 

Redsky motioned with her right hand, as if waving off a fly.

“Nonsense. She’s no more a girl than I am. She’s twenty-six and speaks English better than any of us. Without knowing all of the background detail – and, in fact, not wanting to know – I suspect she was eyeball-deep in the intrigue that walked them onto the gallows. She sings and dances likes she’s crazy to serve the larger good – which is to keep us and her alive.”

“Jesus,” Sam whispered.

“Our lord and savior, amen.”

“Why doesn’t she go to the police? To Rowland?”

“She wants to live.”

“You’re saying the government is after her?”

“Yes and no. Yes, there are elements of your government that are aware of our situation, but none that need – or perhaps want to – take an active interest. No, this is more of a business feud or – how should I phrase this? It’s more of a domestic dispute, with the players trying to not involve the locals.”

Sam expressed disbelief with her eyes and lips.

“It’s been over six months. Why doesn’t someone simply come in and take her?”

“Don’t be naïve, Sam. We’re still in the middle of hostilities and negotiations. For that matter, Harsens and the Catanzaro’s possess her. It’s a wartime tactic – surrounding the ammunition supply with civilians. It makes her far less likely to be re-acquired. And it has been tried. Unsuccessfully. We provide the necessary protection, particularly at night. In addition, we’re obliged to an oral contract that is far more demanding than a written contract. We’ve been paid substantial monies for those services. We’ve also paid with two priceless lives.”

“Tried?”

“Yes, tried. Twice in the last six months. Now we’re at a standstill and the score is tied.”

The enormity did not elude Sam. 

“You’re talking about murder.”

Redsky made a sweeping motion with her left hand.

“These islands, all these islands, are dotted with graves, marked and unmarked, known and unknown. Men are always at war with themselves and each other. I would think that you would know that.”

Sam knew that truth.

“If Brian had let them in the store or helped them find shelter...”

“…It would’ve been far worse.”

“How so?”

“They reduced our transport to splinters with automatic weapons. I don’t see why they wouldn’t have done the same to a grocery store. Moon has said as much. She’s grateful Brian didn’t allow them in – he might’ve died that night.”

“And he and Dixie gave her a home...”

“Which, I think, is a classic definition of irony?”

“Do they know about her?”

“Lord, no, it might get them killed. Moon has been adamant they’re not to know. She would rather they live with regret than die for her.”

“But now I know.”

“I suggest keeping this confidence between us. If you reveal this to Rowland, the détente will likely dissolve.”

“And Houle? What’s his affiliation?”

“He was the architect of the original transaction, brought on by our benefactor, a conglomerate with global outreach. He’s very good at separating night from day. He thinks and calculates in terms of percentages, return on investment, and cost to benefit ratio. It’s more of a game for him, really.”

Sam tapped her right hand on the table.

“I think you’re over-complicating matters. Why not toss her into the trunk of a car and take her to Walpole? They don’t check every car. And I doubt anyone would check yours.”

“The problem is that after our failed attempt other parties surfaced. For the last six months we’ve essentially been in a bidding war.”

“So what is this girl or woman exactly?”

Redsky filled her glasses.

“My understanding is that she created a complex nutritional supplement, a hybrid rice or Frankenstein wheat. Something along those lines.”

“Which is worth dying for?” Sam said.

“Obviously.”

“And that’s all you know?”

Redsky drank before she answered.

“Her creation improves nutritional levels by utilizing natural rice and synthetics. I’ve been told she can quadruple rice yields while reducing production costs ten-fold.”

Sam smiled broadly and spoke in a wild, speculative way, curious to see how Redsky would react.

“You’re insinuating she hasn’t revealed all she knows. Why not beat it out of her?”

Redsky laughed loudly.

“Oh, my god, Sam! Would you have tortured Einstein after he published his General Theory?”

Sam continued smiling.

“It would depend on what I thought I could get from him.”

“Stop teasing. You know as well as I do that it’s more advantageous to secure her, protect her, and allow her to flourish as Einstein did when he came to America.”

“You’re talking about an end to starvation?”

Redsky’s eyes closed for a long second.

“Of course not. People will
always
starve. That can’t be helped, and frankly I could care less if people starve or not.”

Sam smirked, remembering something from a novel.