Island of Deceit (16 page)

“How long do you think this will take?”

“About two months, three at the most. They're in quiet negotiations as we speak. So the sooner you invest the better. Once word leaks, their stock is going to shoot up immediately,” she assured him.

“I guess we can stay that long.”

“You're planning on leaving?” she asked, innocently, knowing very well they weren't going to stay. “I like it here. I thought you were planning on settling here.”

“The damp weather isn't good for Minerva's arthritis. She wants to settle in a warm, dry climate. We're considering Arizona.”

“Do you know anyone there?”

He shrugged. “We make friends easily.”

“Well, they say you should rent for a year or so just in case the place doesn't suit you,” Barbara suggested.

“Yeah, that's what we did here,” he said, nodding his head. “And it's not working out.”

“Well, let's see what we can do about that. How much were you thinking of investing?” she asked.

He named a sum far above what Barbara expected. How many people had this family bilked?

He stood, gripping the folder in his hand. “I know you have customers coming soon. I'll get out of your way. I'll look this over,” he said, “and meet you again in a couple of days to discuss delivering the money.”

Barbara nodded.

As Elliot left the building, Trent was coming in.

“He was here for a haircut?” he asked, nodding toward Elliot.

“No.” Barbara didn't see the need to explain her business to an employee and left it at that. She was already pissed off at Elliot. Good thing Trent had the good sense to drop the subject.

The nerve of some people. Elliot was concerned about
his
retirement when he'd systematically stolen the retirements of countless others. What about
those
seniors?

“You okay, Barbara?” Trent asked, staring at her.

“What?” Barbara snapped.

Trent all but jumped back. Holding up his hands, he said, “All I asked was if you were okay.”

She had better calm down or he'd get suspicious. “I'm fine,” she muttered in a calmer voice, and even managed a small smile. “Thank you for asking.”

He nodded and walked away.

Barbara needed to rant. Liane was her ranting partner. Her first customer wouldn't be there for another ten minutes. She grabbed her cell phone and went outside without even donning a coat.

“Liane, do you have a minute?”

“Sure, what's up?”

“That sonofabitch came by wanting to invest money for his retirement. He needed to have enough for him and Minerva to live off of. Can you believe him? He's thinking of retirement and he stole the livelihoods of others already in retirement. If I had a gun, I'd shoot him myself.”

“Now he's right where you want him, isn't he?” her friend pointed out.

“Yes, but…God, I am so angry.” Barbara must have looked like a crazy person marching up and down the sidewalk. If she didn't get a grip, somebody was going to call Harper and he'd wonder what was going on.

“Calm down,” Liane said in a soothing voice, just the way they calmed each other in the bathroom at work when one of the guys pissed them off. “Your plan, as crazy as it is, is working out just the way you want it.”

“I know. But it's just that some people have no conscience or heart, and that's hard for me to swallow.”

“You loved your grandmother, and Elliot carelessly and uncaringly stole from her, then took her life,” Liane said softly. “Of course you're upset. But you're going to get her money back.”

“And then some. He's paying me in cash,” she said. “But, Liane, I can't get Dorsey back.”

Suddenly, Barbara felt devastated.

“Remember, your grandmother lived her life to the fullest. She didn't waste a second of it. She was a feisty woman and she went down fighting. What better legacy could she have? She wouldn't have wanted to go out any other way.”

Barbara began to calm. “There's something else. Someone searched my house when I was out walking this morning.”

“Barbara, this is getting dangerous. You have to talk to the sheriff.”

“And tell him what? That I'm about to break the law? He'd pull Elliot in and I'd never get the money.”

“But Bar—”

“I can't, Liane. I got a call the other day. One woman they scammed is borrowing money to pay for her medication. These people need their money. They can't afford to have it tied up in the courts for years. By the time the attorneys are through, they'd be dead and the attorneys will have most of the money. This way the money, all of it, will go to the people who lost it.”

“Barbara, I'm afraid for you.”

“Harper meets me here each evening after work and he goes home with me.”

“But he can't always be with you.”

“Even if I told him, he wouldn't always be with me.” A car sped into the lot and bounced to a stop. Her first customer had arrived. “I have to go.”

“Promise me you'll talk to Harper if anything else happens.”

“I promise.”

Liane sighed. “Maybe one day you can trust him with your secrets.”

 

Trent watched Barbara talking on the phone and wondered what was up. Elliot, at least that was the name he was using now, left happy, and Barbara was smiling as he left, but as soon as the door shut behind him, she was roaring mad. Almost snapped his head off. And she was spying on Elliot's wife earlier. The same as he was going to do. What was up with that?

Trent was feeling a little stiff. He usually jogged five or six miles, but never eight. That morning he'd gotten a workout and then some.

He kept wondering why Barbara was working a regular job when the others weren't. Did the old man come for her money? She beat the heck out of Andrew when he tried to steal from her. The tale was still circulating around town, especially at the bar. Trent couldn't see her getting up off anything if she didn't want to. So what the heck was going on? She didn't need them, not the way they needed her. He couldn't figure it out.

 

Barbara had called a security company to have their best alarm system installed. She'd first asked Harper which system was the best, of course. He was curious as to why she felt she needed one. She used the excuse of the woman's murder, and that she often came home late and alone. Whether he bought her story she wasn't sure, but he recommended one, even pulled some strings to get it installed quickly.

 

The Tyler Perry play was wonderful Saturday night. Afterward, Barbara and Harper went to a jazz club and listened to music. They sat back in comfortable club chairs. Harper drank a club soda and Barbara a margarita.

“Are you ready to tell me why you need the security system?” he asked, surprising Barbara with the question.

“I already told you. I'm alone so much. And anything can happen when I'm gone,” she said. “The thing with Sarah has spooked me. There was the break-in at the Stones'. What's going on?” She put the ball back in his court. It was his island and he hadn't solved the crimes.

He stared at her so long she thought he was going to pursue it further. Then a Coltrane song played and Barbara closed her eyes with a smile.

“I just love this song,” she said.

“Want to dance?”

“Yes.”

On the dance floor, he gathered her into his arms. He had to have a million questions about her actions, but he didn't broach any of them. Pulled into his close embrace, Barbara felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the heat from his body.

At first she was tense. Her feelings were growing for Harper and although she wanted to step back and take a breath, for once she was going to live in the moment. She hated the lies. She hated the misconceptions. But what could she do?

Right now, she was going to enjoy this. Her experience with Harper was something she could put in her memory book when she was back in Philly or New York.

Barbara sighed heavily, feeling his pleasant strength against her. She ran her hands slowly and seductively over his back. She was going to enjoy this, she thought, as she felt more than heard a moan from deep in his throat. His lips found hers and he kissed her tenderly. She sighed and all but melted into him.

 

They took the last ferry back to the island. It was cold and brisk outside, but Harper got out after he'd parked. The captain was on deck.

“It's been a windy one tonight,” the captain said.

Harper tugged up the collar of his coat. “You got that right.”

“Hey, you ever find out who killed Sarah?”

Harper shook his head. “Still looking.”

“Say, I've been seeing a couple of newcomers ride the ferry two, three times a week. Thought they were staying at Gabrielle's place, but they don't look like they could afford it.”

“Do you know their names?”

“Naw, usually stay to themselves.”

“And how long have they been visiting?”

“Couple months now. Maybe they have relatives or something. Never see the girl with anyone, but I see the guy with this dude named Andrew. Andrew always walks and sometimes this guy gives him a ride home.”

Harper zeroed-in on Andrew. “What do they drive?”

“Old beat-up Ford Taurus. I thought maybe they had jobs in Norfolk or the Beach,” he said, referring to Virginia Beach.

“Thanks for the update,” Harper said, noticing that it was time for them to leave.

“Anytime. Time for me to earn my pay.”

As the captain walked off, Harper returned to the car.

He'd left the engine idling so Barbara would stay warm. A burst of cold air came in with him. He glanced at Barbara.

“Stay with me tonight?” He'd spent several nights with her, but she hadn't been to his place once. He wanted her to see where he lived.

When she didn't respond, he said, “We can stop by your place for clothes.”

“Okay.”

 

Barbara had only seen Harper's house from the road. He activated the garage door opener and drove into the two-car garage. There was a third door large enough for storage or a motorcycle, but nothing was stored there.

Harper grabbed her small suitcase from the backseat. “In anticipating your visit, I got Lisa to clean so you wouldn't have any complaints about my underwear on the bathroom floor.”

“I should hope not. You're old enough to pick up after yourself.”

“Duly noted,” he said, giving her a salute.

They entered the kitchen from the garage and he popped on the light. Barbara stopped.

“Oh, Harper, this is beautiful.” The granite countertop was a mixture of brown, black, and beige. The beige matched beige cabinets, and the brown matched the walnut island. He had stainless-steel appliances.

“So what special features do you have?”

“To tell you the truth, I don't really use most of them. My mom and sister-in-law had their way with the kitchen and bathrooms.”

“I love it. Everything's stored.” There were a few glass cabinets that showcased china and figurines.

And the breakfast room showcased a lovely bay window. In front of it was a low table with two chairs. The other matching chairs were moved to a sitting area in the great room.

“Do you have a living room?”

“I do, but I use it for an office since I don't need a formal living room. But that can be changed. I'm flexible.”

The great room was huge—at least twenty by sixteen with a two-story ceiling.

“Master bedroom's on the other side of the great room,” he said, and led her to a huge room almost as large as the great room. “There's an empty closet for you. I had Lisa store my overflow junk upstairs.”

His bedroom was twice the size of hers, not to mention the huge closet outfitted with drawers and shelves for storing clothes and shoes.

The master bedroom was more masculine than the living area, with a brown and beige comforter.

In the master bath, there were two sinks on opposite walls and a separate water closet. A large shower was in one corner, and a sunken tub was set at the very end under a window.

“I rarely use that tub. I use the hot tub outside,” he said.

Lisa had laid out fluffy towels and washcloths on the towel bar.

“When did you build this?”

“About six years ago. I bought a small cottage when I first moved here. But it was time for a larger living space. And when you moved here, I was glad I had someplace to bring you.”

“This is amazing.”

“I'll show you upstairs tomorrow. That's where the game room is, with the pool table and pinball machine.”

“Your nephews and nieces must love to visit you.”

“They do. You'll meet them at Christmas. They're going to spend it here this year.”

Barbara nodded, a little nervous about meeting his family. They weren't that serious yet.

“I'll give you time to change.” He approached and cupped her chin. “I want you to feel comfortable, Barbara, as if you were home.” He kissed her lightly and stepped back.

Barbara nodded.

“Do you want to take tomorrow off, or are we going to church?”

Barbara couldn't remember a Sunday when she didn't go to church. Dorsey had dragged her there every Sunday and she continued to go when she visited Dorsey in Philly.

“Church,” she said.

He nodded. “Guess we better get ready for bed, then. I'll give you some privacy.”

Sonya got up early the next morning and brought breakfast back to the cottage for their roommate, shocking the woman. She was still asleep when Sonya knocked on the door.

She hadn't mentioned the bowl to Boyd—and didn't plan to. But she had a funny feeling that bowl her roommate's friend was making was a replica of the original golden bowl. It was too much of a coincidence that another ancient bowl was floating around. Which meant the friend knew where the valuable bowl was, and Sonya planned to find out.

“How're your projects going?” Sonya asked as the woman sat up in bed to eat.

“It's going fine,” she said. “I haven't had breakfast in bed in years. They certainly don't give you the star treatment here.”

“Everyone needs to be pampered. But we can't complain. The room and board's cheap.”

“I don't know how cheap it is. They get a fraction of our profits on top of rent.”

Sonya shrugged. “What can you say? Nothing's free.”

“That's for sure.”

“You were saying your friend was having some problems with her project. If she needs help, just let me know,” Sonya said breezily. “Boyd and I are leaving for Thanksgiving, but I'll be happy to help when we get back.”

“I've never seen you sculpt. You do beautiful paintings.”

“I work both mediums,” Sonya said.

“I'll tell her. You have a great holiday.”

“Are you visiting your family?”

“I'll be here.”

“I've got to pack.”

“And I have to get ready to work in the gallery,” her roommate said.

“Check you later.” Sonya didn't want to appear too eager. Her roommate would get suspicious. She and Boyd weren't going anywhere for the holidays. She wanted it said that they weren't around when things happened on the island.

 

Barbara went to services at Harper's church, but afterward he dropped her off at her house so she could get her car and drive to his.

Harper headed home to change and called John to discuss his conversation with the ferry captain.

“Talk to Gabrielle about it. They're driving an old Taurus. But I can't see how they can afford the B and B's prices if they can't afford a newer car. But we're going to cover all the bases.”

“I'll go by Gabby's place now. I've seen a Taurus lately. A 2001 model.”

“Who was driving it? Man or woman?”

“Some guy. A stranger.”

“I'm headed to the artist colony to question the owner,” Harper said.

“Artists are always coming and going from that place.”

As soon as he changed, Harper left for the artist colony. Located on the other side of the island, it consisted of a collection of old cottages with a huge white barn in the center divided into rooms for painting. The sculpturing and glass blowing took place in separate buildings.

The cottages and barns were all freshly painted. The grounds were well maintained. In the spring and summer, flowers would flourish.

Several cars were parked in front of the gallery, which, like most of the other buildings, was a white one-floor cottage.

It was run by the daughter of the woman who'd started it. Nancy's mother had formed the colony five years before she died, buying up the surrounding summer cottages from a family who rented them out. Nancy married and kept the colony going with the help of her husband, but Nancy did not have her mother's immense artistic talent, although she was an amateur sculptor.

One of the conditions for living there was that each person had to participate in the upkeep of the buildings. A portion of their sales went to maintain the colony.

The colony also planted a huge vegetable garden each year, and they usually ate their meals together in a second building smaller than the studio.

Harper climbed out of his car and headed to the gallery.

Nancy was showing a painting to a customer. Harper indicated he wanted to speak to her when she finished. He studied the surroundings while he waited. A woman in a long, flowing, vividly colored patchwork skirt with a peasant blouse manned the cash register.

One of the artists was discussing a seascape with another couple. Harper wondered if she'd painted it.

Harper was studying a painting of the colony when Nancy approached him. She was thin and had a café au lait complexion. She wore a jean skirt with beadwork with a colorful red blouse. Her hair was done in a French twist.

“What brings you here, Sheriff?”

“I see business is brisk,” Harper said, nodding toward the crowd.

“Weekends are the busiest times for sales with people from the mainland.”

“We're still looking for Sarah Rhodes's murderer.”

“Oh, that poor child. She used to come here to look at the paintings. She couldn't afford them, of course, but she certainly enjoyed art.”

Harper jotted that down. “Did she mingle with any of the artists?”

“Oh, no. She was friendly, though.”

“In the last month have any of your artists had a sudden cash input? Maybe from an uncle or parent?”

“Not as far as I know. Everyone here is living on a shoestring. None of them have wealthy families. From time to time, we do get those who have an independent income, but that hasn't happened in the last few years.”

“Any new arrivals in the last two months?”

“One couple arrived the middle of September. The woman is the artist. Actually, she painted the picture of the grounds you were looking at. She has a very promising career ahead of her.”

“They wouldn't by any chance drive a brown Ford Taurus, would they?”

“Actually, they do. Her boyfriend works in Norfolk. She works there part-time for living expenses.”

“Are they here now? I'd like to meet them.”

She shook her head. “Both of them are off-island right now. They're leaving to visit their families for two weeks. They won't return until after Thanksgiving. I can call you when they're here if you'd like to talk to them.”

“I would.” Harper handed her a card with his cell number and office number. “As soon as they return,” he said.

“Do you know where they work?”

“I'm sorry, I don't.”

On his way home, John called Harper. “I talked to Gabrielle. She hasn't had anyone staying there for that length of time.”

“I lucked out at the artist colony. But they weren't there. Nancy will call me when they're in.”

“So are you on your way to the office?”

“I'm going home.”

When Harper disconnected, he smiled. He was going home, to Barbara. For so long he'd wanted someone to welcome him home, and finally he had her.

 

Barbara absolutely loved Harper's kitchen—his entire house, actually. Before church, he'd taken two steaks out of the freezer to thaw. She was marinating them in a little red wine and olive oil. He'd promised to grill them outside.

She was going to keep it simple. She'd washed and put foil on the sweet potatoes, the salad was in the fridge, and the homemade dressing on the counter.

Barbara sat at the bay window and regarded the ocean. What a lovely view. She watched snow birds frolic near the water. Farther down she saw a couple walking. She was still a little nervous about whether Elliot would actually go through with the stock deal. She couldn't consider it a done deal until she had the money in hand.

She heard the garage door activate. Harper was home. A minute later, he came through the door.

“If you start the grill I can put the sweet potatoes on,” she said.

“Get your jacket. I'm going to show you where everything is.”

“How did things go today?” she asked, donning her coat.

“They weren't there. But they haven't come into any money either.”

She grabbed the potatoes and they went out the sliding door. There was a huge outdoor fireplace on the porch.

“Is that another fire pit in the yard?”

He nodded. “Near the hot tub. You and I can get in later. You're going to love spending time out here.” He lit the grill.

“In the summer.”

“In the snow and ice, too.”

“Keep dreaming.” Barbara placed the potatoes on the rack and closed the hood.

Harper put his arm around her as they walked back inside. “I'm going to turn you into an outdoors girl yet,” he said, and Barbara believed he might at that.

“Harper, do you really think Sarah's death was the result of a robbery?”

He nodded. “She had five grand on her, but we haven't given out that information.”

“In cash?”

“Yes, it was a gift from Hughes so that she could buy a used car. Hers had broken down and she needed transportation.”

Maybe Elliot didn't kill Sarah, Barbara thought. But he definitely killed Dorsey. She believed that even though Dorsey's neighbors had tried to dissuade her.

Harper showered while Barbara finished dinner. Now he was watching the football game while Barbara enjoyed herself in the hot tub in his bathroom. The bubbles almost overflowed the lip. She'd lit candles around the tub. And she was enjoying a glass of wine. It was time for her to realize some of those fantasies she used to have.

“Harper?” she called out.

“Yeah?”

“Can you bring me a towel?”

“Aren't there towels in there?” he asked, clearly into his game.

“I can't reach it.”

“In a minute.”

It was five minutes before he actually opened the door.

“What the…”

Barbara held out a glass of wine. “Would you like to join me?”

She didn't have to ask him twice.

“What about your game?”

“I'll catch it later,” he said as he slid into the tub behind her. She leaned back against his chest.

“Two months ago, I never would have dreamed…”

She rubbed the inside of his thigh. “Dreamed what?”

“Romantic nights like this with you.” He cupped her breasts, caressing her nipples.

“Just so you know—I've had a few fantasies about you, too.”

“Glad to hear it.” He released her and leaned back himself, carrying her with him. “I still can't figure you out.”

“What's bothering you?”

“What did you see in Andrew?”

Barbara nearly groaned. “I thought he was a nice guy.”

“Come on, Barbara. I was trying to put the moves on you and you chose him.”

“We never went out on a date.”

“You were so quiet and standoffish. And always tense around me. I was trying to work my way up to a date. I thought if I moved slowly, you'd learn to relax around me.”

“Andrew is in the past. Is he important now?”

“It just puzzles me that a woman like you would date someone with no more sense than Andrew. You're too smart for that.”

“Nobody asks older men why they date younger women. But you're going to put me through the third degree about Andrew?”

“At least the women have something going for them.”

“What? A nice body? Paid-for boobs? They're great at sucking dick when a guy's paycheck is high enough?”

Harper groaned. “I'm digging myself in with this one, aren't I?”

“Deeper and deeper.”

“Baby, don't talk like that or we won't be relaxing in here much longer.”

“Well, that was the plan until you pissed me off.”

“Let me remedy that right now.”

And for the next hour he put action to words, unrelenting in his need to satisfy his increasing desire for her. Barbara had never made love with such deep absorption that it left her gasping for breath and wanting more than ever to hold on to what she had.

 

It was hard getting away from Harper. They spent every spare minute together. But the next morning, Barbara told him she was going to the mainland to shop for groceries and for supplies for her shop.

She met Lambert's daughter for breakfast.

“Thank you so much for meeting with me,” Cassandra Houston said. “I'm at my wit's end. Dad won't believe anything I tell him about Minerva. He thinks she's the best thing since the arrival of Jesus. He thinks of her as his girlfriend. Can you believe that?”

“It's their way of gaining trust. She's sweet to him. The one thing I learned a long time ago was that confidence women know how to treat men. And she's good at it. She's had years to hone her kills. And so has her husband.”

Cassandra leaned back, shocked. “I never would have believed my father could have the wool pulled over his eyes this way. I'm going to the police.”

“That's a good move, except, has she gotten any money from him yet?”

Cassandra sighed. “No.”

“They won't do anything. But at least you can have it on record. And since it's a small town…I don't know. I'm dating the sheriff. Our relationship is rather new, and I haven't mentioned my reason for being here. He cares about the people here, so I think he'll try to help you.”

“Why won't you tell him?”

She told her about the legal process for returning the cash back to the owners and how she didn't actually have the money yet.

“How long before you think they'll give it to you?”

“Couple of days at most.”

“Call me as soon as you get it. Then I'll go to the sheriff.”

Barbara nodded. “They deal in cash, so there's no record that the money transfer transpired. They will deny it. And they don't keep their money in American banks. If they have an account at all, it's offshore. That's easy to do,” Barbara said. “You can try getting power of attorney, but by the time you have your father declared incompetent, it'll be too late. She has him in her grips now, and she'll move quickly. She knows his family is here.”

Cassandra was clearly disturbed. “How can these people get away with this?”

“They hit fast and move on to a new location under another identity.”