Island Intrigue (12 page)

After a moment she realized she'd turned several pages without reading a word.

“Brad's rally is tomorrow,” she said, staring down at Calvin who was perched on the armrest beside her. “You don't think Rolo would try to crash the rally, do you?”

Chapter Twelve

Precisely at three-thirty, seven miserable children were standing on Sabrina Dunsweeney's front porch. Sid and Terry stood in front, trying to ignore the pinches and nudges being rained on them from behind.

“This is all your fault!” hissed Maple Tubbs, a large girl who bore an amazing resemblance in both form and temperament to her Great-aunt Mary Garrison Tubbs.

“Is not!” Sid whispered back.

Terry resignedly knocked on the door. Once Miss Sabrina told his grandmother about the play rehearsal, it was all over. Grandma Nettie talked to Miss Piggy Perkins, their teacher, who “suggested” that the entire fifth grade class attend the rehearsal. Here they were, and Terry wished fervently that he had never set eyes on Miss Sabrina Dunsweeney.

“Why, hello, children!” The woman threw open the door and beamed at them. “Are we ready to start rehearsing?”

They were in the back yard, sitting at a picnic table under an oak tree, taking turns reading the script as Sabrina had been unable to find a copier to make copies. She had provided lemonade and cookies and waited while the boys rolled around on the sandy lawn before finally calling them to order. As the only girl, Maple was pressed into reading Juliet's parts, and it didn't take too long before she rebelled.

“I am not going to play any sniveling, stupid girl who doesn't know any better than to fall in love with a jerk like Romeo. She knew her parents hated him, didn't she?” Maple Tubbs crossed her arms and stared at Sabrina with malevolence.

“You don't think there's a chance that Romeo and Juliet's love will bring their families together?”

“Everybody knows the two of them drop dead as doornails at the end, so what's the point?”

“Well, of course, if you don't want the title role, one of the most important characters in the play, then I can understand,” Sabrina said. “The nurse might be a good role for you—”

Maple was flipping through the play while the boys looked on. She had them cowed, Sabrina noticed. As the only girl in her fifth grade class, Maple could have felt left out and isolated. Instead, she was the queen bee and the boys waited on her hand and foot.

“I'll be the friar,” Maple announced. “He manages to live through the play at least. I'll dress up in my grandma's burying dress and cut my hair short and wear one of those funny hats.” She crossed her arms and stared at Sabrina.

“We'll see,” Sabrina said noncommittally. “Let's continue reading. I'll read Juliet.”

Sabrina listened as the six boys took turns reading and made mental notes. Sid Tittletott was a ham, waving his arms theatrically, and clutching his heart as he proclaimed undying love. He was so different from cool, impersonal Virginia and awkward, plain Gary, but perhaps he had resorted to flamboyance to get the attention of his undemonstrative parents.

Terry Wrightly was not nearly as theatrical as his best friend, but he had a fine speaking voice, and he was taking the reading seriously. He portrayed more emotion in his voice than Sid did with all his arm waving.

McCrorie McCall, the son of the local police sergeant, was heavy with freckles and laughed a lot. Karel Garrison, son of Missy the waitress from the Tittletott House, was very short, with glasses, and he constantly asked questions. Glenn Large, in his expensive clothes, was from the prestigious Lighthouse Estates and didn't let anybody forget it. Elbert Lowry was one of the numerous Lowry brood and spoke with a pronounced lisp.

Sabrina was pleasantly surprised at how well the children did with the reading. She knew from the beginning that Shakespeare was a bit heavy for fifth graders, and that they would have to leave out some of the hard bits. She'd expected to spend the entire first session explaining the “funny language.” However, it appeared that their school teacher had already done that, and while they still thought that Shakespeare could have used “darn” just as well as “zounds,” they were not overwhelmed.

They would do fine, Sabrina thought, but they would have to do some revising of the play. First thing would be to make it shorter, then she would tackle the problem of no Juliet. That was okay, though. Romeo and Juliet island style would be original and entertaining.

She hoped.

***

She sent the children home at five-thirty, carrying roses, extracting promises from them to be back the same time the next day to learn who would be playing what part.

“I might be busy tomorrow.” Maple eyed Sabrina with dislike. She had declared war on Sabrina when the older woman insisted that she let some of the other children read Friar Lawrence's lines.

Sabrina smiled. “Of course, anybody who does not make it tomorrow will not find out what their part is and will miss out on the pizza.”

“Pizza?” Maple glanced around at the boys who were whooping with excitement. “I suppose I might be able to make it.”

“Don't forget that tomorrow is the spelling bee,” Terry said. “It starts at six.”

“Yeah, and Terry is going to be in it.” McCrorie punched Terry's arm and chortled with laughter. “He thinks he's going to win, but everybody knows Kitty Tubbs is the world's best speller, so you might as well give up now.”

“She's good,” Terry admitted. “But I'm better.”

“McCrorie, you just say that about Kitty because you got a crush on her!” Sid smirked at McCrorie. “But she won't even look at you, cause she's in the sixth grade and doesn't want a younger man.”

“I do not!” McCrorie's ears were red.

“Do you want us to bring our scripts tomorrow?” Karel asked, small and serious.

“You have copies of the play?” Sabrina asked. At their nods—why on earth hadn't they brought them today?—she said yes, it would probably be a good idea to bring the scripts tomorrow.

“How much time will we be spending on this little endeavor?” Glen Large asked, rolling back his argyle shirt to glance at his ostentatious gold watch.

“An hour or so every day after school.” Sabrina thought that with three weeks practice, which was the amount of time remaining to her on the island, they should be able to put together a pretty good short rendition of the play. She'd have to find out whether there was a stage of some kind on the island. Details, details!

Sabrina glanced around at the children's faces, and saw that for the most part, she had inspired their interest. They would be back

“Bye Miss Sabrina!” the children chorused as they trooped down the driveway.

“Good-bye, children,” Sabrina said and smiled with contentment.

***

After fixing broiled shrimp (the burners on the stove really did heat erratically),

Sabrina hauled several logs in from outside and set about trying to light a fire in the downstairs fireplace. Calvin helped by darting into the fireplace and tearing twigs off the logs, and then parading around the room with his prizes. After an hour, Sabrina managed to light a small, very smoky fire that crackled and sputtered merrily.

With a sigh of contentment, she sat back in the comfortable armchair by the front window and opened her book.

“This is the life,” she told Calvin, who sat on her knee, pecking at the edges of the book. “Cough! Cough! The peaceful, island life.” Tears streamed from her eyes, and she pounded on her chest. “Sitting by the nice, warm fire, reading my book—cough! cough!—this is the way things ought to be.”

She thought about what she would be doing if she was back in Cincinnati. Probably planning her next day's lesson plan, writing out progress reports, or sitting in Sally's kitchen enjoying a good gossip. She did miss Sally, and she missed her kids, but she thought if she never saw another schoolbook in her life she'd probably be happy. Teaching was just something she'd fallen into, because it was easier to go along with her mother than to go against her.

“What in the world is wrong with me, Calvin? Cough!”

“Cough!” Calvin imitated her.

“Everything's changed, I'm just not happy in my own life anymore. It's as if it doesn't quite fit, as if I went up to my closet and everything was too loose or too small. I don't want to be just Sabrina Victoria Dunsweeney, but I'm not sure I want to be anybody else either! Cough! Choke!”

She tried to concentrate on her book, which was rather good.

Finally, “Dammit, Calvin, why in the world won't the smoke go up the chimney like it's supposed to!” With that, she picked up the bird and fled the room, hacking and coughing as she slammed the door behind her and went up to her bedroom.

***

The next morning, the doubts and uncertainties of the night before seemed almost laughable.

“Listen to me, Calvin,” she told him as she brushed her teeth and he swayed back and forth, his eyes slightly crossed as he tried to follow the movement of the toothbrush. “I sound like an old woman crying because I never did anything with my life! I've had a fine life, and by goodness, it's not over yet! I can do whatever I want to do.”

“Cheep,” Calvin said distractedly. He was waiting for her to gargle. He loved it when she gargled.

“I mean really, I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm healthy, and that counts for a lot. I'm happy…” She paused and thought about that one for a bit. “Yes, I'm happy!” This was said in a drawn-out gurgle as she talked and gargled at the same time.

“Gurgle,” Calvin repeated with delight.

She automatically started to pull her hair back into its accustomed bun, and then deliberately poofed the curls around her face. Then she went into the bedroom and picked out the most wildly extravagant outfit from her new wardrobe. She continued her self-motivational “I am wonderful, just hear me roar!” speech as she headed down to the kitchen. She briefly considered using her new pig teapot, and then she shuddered and threw a dishtowel over the pig's smirking face.

“I'm going to breakfast,” she told Calvin, who had climbed up in his windowsill and was nodding off in the sunlight trickling through the leaves of the rose bushes and the thick trees.

Carrying a bundle of roses, she strode out the front door. It had rained the night before, and now everything sparkled and shimmered in the clean, morning sunlight.

She told herself she was hungry and needed sustenance, but she knew in her heart that she wanted to find out more information about Rolo Wrightly. Someone must know more about the fifteen-year-old scandal which had sent him away from the island. Of course, she would have to be careful not to give his presence away. Though, now that she thought about it, several people in all likelihood knew he was in town. Nettie, for one. What had he said? My ma likes you. And she had the strong feeling that Gary and Elizabeth Tittletott knew as well.

“What is he doing back in town?” Gary had said. Was he talking about Rolo? And Elizabeth said that someone was threatening Bradford. Sabrina could imagine that Rolo might be angry at Brad for turning him into the police fifteen years ago, but why didn't Tittletotts just call the police? Surely there was a warrant out for Rolo's arrest.

Sabrina was uncomfortably aware that she herself should probably call the police. But she really didn't know the details of Rolo's transgressions, did she?

She chuckled to herself, thinking that Rolo's reappearance must be the best well-known secret on the island.

The smile faded. Did Rolo draw those pictures? Considering Rolo's checkered past, the idea wasn't that far-fetched. Somehow, though, she couldn't picture Rolo drawing those hate-filled lines, even as a child. There was a sereneness about him, an appealing naiveté. And if Rolo drew the pictures, wouldn't Lora have shown them to Nettie all those years ago?

But Sabrina couldn't shake the look on Rolo's face as he said, “It'll all be over tomorrow.”

Sabrina shivered. What would be over tomorrow? Tomorrow was already today.

Chapter Thirteen

The sun was climbing the high, blue sky, and the temperature was slowly warming. Sabrina was amazed to think that Halloween was only a few days away. She thought about paper pumpkins, and tissue ghosts, and then turned her attention to the here and now.

Sabrina made her way through bustling, busy Waver Town, waving and smiling at people as she passed. They seemed startled by her friendliness, or maybe by the armful of dripping roses she carried. She passed Nettie's store, and would have stopped, but the little shop was busy with people buying coffee and morning rolls. She peeked in and waved, but Nettie didn't see her.

Over the bridge, she turned left onto Hurricane Harbor Road. She normally enjoyed a leisurely walk down scenic, tree-sheltered Tittletott Row, but this morning she was hungry and anxious to get to the Tittletott House.

She noticed the Blue Cam restaurant for the first time, a small blue building on the harbor front huddled in the shadow of the rowdy Ride the Big One Surf Shop and Pub. Sabrina peered in a window and saw May talking to a couple of dazed-looking tourists sitting at a plastic table. Sabrina winced and resolved that she would come back one day for lunch.

Virginia, sitting at the registration desk inside the Tittletott House, smiled at Sabrina as she came in.

“Hello Virginia,” Sabrina called. “How's business?”

“Slow.” Virginia managed to give the appearance of grimacing without actually dimpling the pale, smooth cream of her skin. She was dressed in an immaculate green pantsuit, her fine blond hair weaved into an intricate braid. “This time of year, we mainly just get busy on weekends.”

“That's too bad,” Sabrina sympathized and plunked the roses down on the registration desk. “I hope you have a vase. I don't have anywhere to put all these roses.”

“Yes, thank you very much. We have vases. It's very kind of you. From the Old Wrightly House? There are some beautiful bushes there.” She paused, and Sabrina saw the spasm of…what?—memory, regret?—cross the other woman's face.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine, fine,” Virginia said. “I just thought of something…. Thank you so much for the roses.”

“No problem. I'm going to get some breakfast. What's the special this morning?”

“I don't know. Gary's cooking, the cook called in sick.” Virginia spoke absently and didn't seem to notice as Sabrina said good-bye and went into the dining room.

She seated herself at the same table she had occupied the day before. Missy hustled up to her in a T-shirt proclaiming “You are depriving some poor village of its idiot” and asked what she wanted to drink.

“Hot tea, please,” Sabrina said. “And a menu.”

“No menus this morning.” Missy deftly scooped a plate off another table and looked over her shoulder at Sabrina. “Special number one, two and three is eggs benedict, country ham with homemade maple syrup, grits and fresh blueberry/raspberry muffins.”

“That sounds wonderful. I'll have special number two, then.” Sabrina was already mentally justifying the extravagant breakfast. She was always meaning to try to cut back on her eating, but she could never say no to a good meal. And every meal was a good meal as far as Sabrina was concerned.

The dining room was mostly empty, except for a couple in the corner digging into their just-delivered plates. Missy bustled around the room, cleaning tables.

“Did you have a busy morning?” Sabrina asked.

Missy stood back and regarded the dirty tables. “Whenever the locals hear Gary's cooking, they come tramping in. His food's that good, not that anyone else in the house thinks so.” Missy snorted. “The poor man doesn't get any respect.”

“He seems like a nice man,” Sabrina said diplomatically.

“I think so. But who am I to judge?” Missy snorted again. “I'm thinking about moving on to another line of work, anyway. I don't get paid enough to listen to them screeching and hollerin' at each other, and throwing things.” She shook her head in disgust, but her eyes were troubled.

“Who?” Sabrina was fascinated. “Elizabeth?”

“Well, she's done her share. But no, I was talking about Mrs. Virginia and Mr. Gary. It was just terrible this morning!” She seemed about to say something else, and then didn't.

“Hmmm,” Sabrina said.

Missy smiled with effort. “I wanted to thank you for giving the kids something to do after school. My son Karel was practicing Shakespeare all last night. Far cry from him playing those video games nonstop like he usually does. “

Before Sabrina could reply, Elizabeth Tittletott swept into the room looking around as if she was wondering where her throne had got to. Today she was wearing a thick, violet, cape-like dress which could have come straight off a Graceland curtain rod. Her hair was shaped into a golden helmet around her head and Sabrina suspected it was a wig.

“Missy,” she drawled. “This place is such a mess. Let's try to clear the tables a little quicker, shall we?”

Missy paused, a tray full of dishes on her shoulder. “Elizabeth, unless you want to spring for a busboy, this place isn't going to get any cleaner any quicker. By the way, have you read my T-shirt this morning?” Swinging her wide hips, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Well!” Elizabeth looked around the room for another victim. Her gaze passed over Sabrina, and then snapped back.

“Ah, Miss Dunsweeney,” she crooned, and sailed toward Sabrina's table, a wide smile painted around large, false teeth. “How are we doing this morning?”

Sabrina regarded the older woman warily. “I'm doing fine, and you?”

“Just wooonderful,” Elizabeth oozed. “I was just wondering how you were getting along in that old, icky Wrightly cottage. Kind of uncomfortable, isn't it? You should have stayed here.”

“It's not uncomfortable,” Sabrina said.

“Have you seen the pirate yet?”

“Walk-the-Plank Wrightly?”

“You've heard all about him, I'm sure. Nasty old pirate, tried to kill my late husband's ancestor. He's been seen out by your place.”

“Really?” Sabrina looked down at the placemat, decorated with the many types of shells found in the ocean. She wasn't sure what to say. She had the feeling Elizabeth was fishing for information about Rolo, but how to find out without giving away that she had seen him? It was an ironical situation since she had come to town to see what information she could find out about Rolo.

“I'm afraid I don't believe in ghosts,” Sabrina said.

“But they're real.” Elizabeth paused, and with relief Sabrina saw Missy approaching with her plate of food. “I hope you're coming to the rally tonight, Bradford needs all the support he can get. I know it won't be like your big city shin-digs—” she sneered slightly, and Sabrina was reminded of the Jester in Batman “—but it should be interesting for you.”

“Yes, I was planning on attending. Thank you, Missy, it looks wonderful.” Sabrina's stomach growled.

“Here's your food,” Elizabeth cried. “I will leave you to it.” Waving long, speckled fingers in Sabrina's face, she turned and steamed across the room.

“By the way, Mrs. Elizabeth, you haven't seen my cell phone, have you?” Missy called after the older woman.

“What? What? Your phone?” Elizabeth twisted her mouth sourly. “No, I haven't seen it. You really must be more careful with your belongings.” She flounced out of the room.

Missy shook her head and turned back to cleaning a table.

“You've lost your phone?”

“My cell phone. Not many people on the island have one, but I run a cab company, Missy's Conveyance Company.” Missy smiled self-deprecatingly. “Okay, okay, so it's a one-woman company, and my cab's my minivan, but the tourists call me sometimes, to pick them up at the airport, or to take them on sightseeing tours. Their calls come to my cell phone, which I put down on a table this morning, I think—I'm not sure where it got to.”

“Well, I hope you find it.”

As she ate (the food was wonderful; Sabrina herself could have only done a slightly better job on the eggs benedict, and the muffins were out of this world) Sabrina thought about Elizabeth's questions. Why did she have the distinct feeling Elizabeth was pumping her for information about Rolo? How could Elizabeth know that Rolo had been at the Old Wrightly House?

In retrospect, it wasn't a hard question to answer. Anybody who knew Rolo was on the island would know that the tall, black-bearded pirate was in reality the ghost's greatly removed grandchild, Rolo. After all, Rolo grew up on Jolly Roger Road. It was natural that he would gravitate back to that part of the island.

But why did Elizabeth care where Rolo was hiding? And why had Rolo contacted members of the Tittletott family? If she understood the overheard conversation correctly, Elizabeth said Rolo talked to Bradford. What did Rolo say to his childhood friend?

Sabrina scraped the last of the grits off her plate. As good as the food had been, and it had been heavenly, what she wouldn't give for some hot, fried goetta right now.

Gary, in a dirty apron, long-sleeves rolled up, appeared at the door leading to the kitchen. He looked around at the empty tables, glanced at his watch and pulled off his apron. He was crossing toward the lobby when Sabrina called his name.

“Gary! Mr. Tittletott, I mean. How are you doing this morning?”

Gary looked over at her and as reluctantly as a child being forced to kiss his great aunt, the one who pinched your cheeks unmercifully and smelled like rotten peppermints, approached her table. “Uh—hello, Miss Dunsweeney,” he said, shuffling his feet a bit.

“I just wanted to let you know that the food was wonderful. See? I ate every bite.”

“Really?” Gary brightened. “My mother says—well, I'm glad you enjoyed the food. I enjoy cooking.”

“Do you really? So do I. I make a wonderful Clam Tartlet, and my Tuna Extravaganzo is pretty darn good, if I do say so myself.”

“An Extravaganzo, really? Not many, ahem, amateurs have the patience for an Extravaganzo. Tell me, do you add the white wine—”

“I always use a nice Pinot Grigio, it makes all the difference in the world.”

“Really? Hmm. Anyway, do you add the wine before or after you add the gigantic mushrooms?”

“Definitely before. It gives the gigantics a chance to simmer in that wonderful sauce, and they just soak it up, don't you know?”

“That's what I do!” Gary cried. His thin, ascetic face was flushed, his pale blue eyes shining with excitement. It was a far cry from the pallid, shy man she first met.

“Have you taken classes? I've taken a few here and there, and I found that they helped immensely.” It was a shame she could never take the advanced class, but each time she called to enroll the receptionist assured her that the class was full.

“No classes. Mother said—well, I'm happy here, running the house. When I was a kid, I thought I'd grow up to be a famous chef. I've been teaching Sid, and I think he's really showing an aptitude. Of course, he's so quick, he can pick up anything.” Gary's face shone with pride for his son. “Anyway, I thought I might go to a culinary school, but then Brad decided to go into real estate, and I had to run this place. Wait a minute. You're from Cincinnati? Did you, by chance, ever go to the Maisonette?”

“Yes. Every month. It's wonderful, of course.”

“Of course,” Gary echoed reverently.

“Gary!” It was honey-covered steel.

Gary reflexively looked down at his grease-spotted pants and wiped at the flour on his hands.

Elizabeth was at the door, and she gestured at her son, her mouth pursed in disdain.

All the light went out of Gary's face, and with a quick look in Sabrina's direction, he shuffled toward his mother and they disappeared into the lobby.

Shaking her head, Sabrina paid Missy, left a good tip, and went into the lobby.

Virginia was still behind the desk.

“Did you enjoy your breakfast? Gary tends to go a little overboard.” Virginia had regained her composure.

“It was outstanding, Gary really has a talent for cooking. I'm surprised he never pursued cooking professionally.”

“It was all he talked about when we were kids. Brad was going to be rich, I was going to be a ballerina, Thierry was going to be a fireman in a big city, and Rolo was going to be president of the Sanitary Concessionary—” She stopped and looked away. “Well, you know how kids are.”

Sabrina paused. “My group of friends ended up being shipped to different private schools, and we kind of lost touch. It must be nice to know people so well you remember them as children.”

“Nice? I suppose so.”

“Now, I know who Brad is of course, and Gary, and I'm pretty sure Thierry is Thierry Wrightly, and Rolo is…?” Sabrina was congratulating herself on her neat way of putting the question. She didn't actually lie and say she didn't know who the man was, but the question was definitely there.

“Just a guy we all grew up with. He went away a long time ago.” Virginia was studying Sabrina as she said this.

“Really?” Sabrina tried her best to look innocent. “You must have been great friends.”

“All of us were kind of wild when we were young. Thierry and Gary were two grades below us but we all hung out together. Until—” She broke off. “Well, everybody's got to grow up sometime. Brad and I ended up going to the same university, and of course, we all see each other almost every day, but it's never really been the same.”

“Hmmm.” Sabrina's brain was clicking along at a hundred miles an hour, but she couldn't think of anything else to say without revealing her interest in Rolo. “Anyway, I'm surprised Gary didn't go to culinary school.”

“He wanted to,” Virginia said indifferently. “But then he decided to run this place.”