Island of Deceit (19 page)

Sooner or later, Andrew would come to and find his way home.

 

John Aldridge was working the night shift, making rounds, when he thought he saw somebody lying on the ground about a mile from the ferry. He called it in to the dispatcher and got out of his car to check it out.

He beamed the light from his flashlight. A young man was lying on the ground. His britches were wet around the seat. John recognized Andrew Stone.

John checked for a pulse. The man moved his head and groaned.

“Had too much to drink?” John asked.

Andrew groaned again, then winced against the light. “Please,” he mumbled weakly. “Don't kill me.”

“This is the police. Nobody's going to kill you. Can you get up?”

“Yes…yes, sir.”

“Come on. I'll take you home.” John put some plastic on his car seat, settled Andrew in the car, and drove him the short distance home, hoping he wouldn't puke in the squad car.

“It's not good to get so drunk that you pass out,” John said. “It's downright dangerous. You could have fallen in the road and gotten driven over.”

“Yes, sir. It won't happen again,” Andrew mumbled.

The boy seemed extremely nervous. “You okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Andrew was older than John by at least five years. Why was he calling him “sir”? There was something pitiful about him that had John feeling sorry for him. Andrew seemed to be one of those weak souls who was easily managed by others.

“Take care of yourself, buddy, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

John parked in the yard and waited for Andrew to go inside before he drove away.

All seemed quiet in the neighborhood.

 

Harper was sleeping with Barbara wrapped securely in his arms when the phone rang.

“There's been another robbery at the Stones'. This time they trashed the place. Slashed mattresses. Pulled everything out the cupboards. It's a mess, Harper,” John said.

“I'll be there.”

“What's wrong?” Barbara asked.

“There was another break-in at the Stones'. You going to be okay here?” Harper asked.

“Of course. Go on.”

He kissed her quickly on the lips and rushed to dress.

When he went into the Stones' house twenty minutes later, Harper was shocked. There was rage behind this. Nobody destroyed a house like this without a terrible passion.

The mattress was cut up as if someone were striking out at them.

“Have either of you received any threats?” Harper asked.

“None at all,” Elliot responded. “We live rather quietly here.”

“Did you have enemies from your previous residence?”

“No.”

“Was anything stolen?”

“We went through everything and nothing was taken. They just destroyed everything.”

No other houses in town were broken into and yet this house was hit twice.

“So the two of you were dining at Mrs. Claxton's house. Where were you, Andrew?”

“I went to Norfolk.”

“I picked him up passed out on the road half a mile from here,” John said.

“What happened?”

“I…” He flashed a nervous look at his father. “I musta drunk too much.”

Harper controlled his disgust.

“Were you alone tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“You ever catch a ride back from the mainland?”

“Sometimes.”

“With whom?”

“Some dude who lives on the island. I see him all the time and since he sees me walking, he just gives me a lift.”

“What's his name?”

“Gerald somebody. Never got his last name.”

“Where does he live?”

Andrew shrugged. “Don't know. Never been to his house.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Tall dude, little shorter than me. 'Bout John's size. Light complexion.” Andrew shrugged.

That could describe a host of men. “How old?”

“Older than me. Younger than you.”

Between thirty-five and fifty.
Great. Just great.

“We can't stay here tonight,” Minerva said.

“John, call Gabrielle and see if she has a room at the B and B. In the meantime, we'll process the scene.”

 

Friday night Trent figured he needed to give Andrew another warning. He waited for him again as he got off the ferry, walking as if he'd had one too many.

Trent intercepted him at the same place, only this time he didn't touch him, just stood behind him. He didn't have to. His voice alone was enough to stop Andrew in his tracks.

“You working on getting my money, Andrew?” Trent asked, lacing his voice with menace.

“B…Ba…Barbara's got half of it, and there's no way I can get it from her.”

“Half?”

“My daddy gave it to her to invest,” the nervous man said quickly.

“What happened to the other half?”

“Somebody stole it a couple weeks ago. We had a couple of break-ins.”

“So Barbara's working with you?”

He shook his head. “We met her when we moved to the island. And when I was dating her she told my daddy how she invested her money and made a killing.”

For the life of him, Trent couldn't understand what a strong woman like Barbara saw in Andrew.

“So tell me about this stock thing.”

“She's got a stockbroker friend in New York. There's some stock that's going to hit the ceiling in a few months. Barbara told Daddy she'd invest it for him.”

“What kind of bullshit is this?”

Andrew turned, looked Trent in the eye, and started trembling. “It's the truth. Somebody broke in our house the night you attacked me. The only reason they didn't get the money was because Barbara already had it. It should be invested by now. Ain't nothing I can do 'til the deal's done.”

Trent scowled. “You had better not ever mention my name to your daddy or anybody else. Got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get on outta here.”

Andrew stumbled forward, and Trent made his way back to the SUV. He wouldn't accomplish a thing hurting Andrew. He'd need him if he couldn't get that money from Barbara.

So she wasn't part of the group. But something was up with that woman and he couldn't figure it out. She raked in money hand over fist at that salon. He knew those prices she charged, and although he never got near the till, he figured up in his head what she was making, and it wasn't chicken feed. He knew for sure that sharp-looking salon she owned was paid for. She wasn't renting. So what was her number? And how the hell was he going to get his money? He wasn't up for stealing from somebody who didn't steal from him. He just wanted his mama's money back.

But who the hell stole half the Stones' stash? It must have been the woman skulking to the house the night he tore up the place. She must know them and know the amount of money they had in their possession. Oh, hell. She had to be Andrew's old girlfriend. His mother mentioned her. And she was stealing the whole stash for herself.

No honor among thieves. Now he had to find that woman. He should've waited and followed her home that night, but after he'd destroyed the place, he wasn't up for sticking around and getting caught.

He'd bet she lived on the island. Or maybe it could be one of the locals. If only he'd gotten a look at her face, but he'd only seen this apparition dressed completely in black—just like him.

 

Barbara had given her customers a month's warning that the shop would be closed the week of Thanksgiving. Consequently, they were swamped that week, so much so that she and Trent hadn't had the time even for a break.

Barbara thanked the heavens that he'd come to work for her. She would never have been able to take care of so many customers on her own.

Late that afternoon, Liane rented a car from the airport and drove directly to the salon. Barbara hadn't eaten since breakfast and took a ten-minute break to eat and visit with her friend before Liane left for the B&B.

She finally sent her last customer on her way, locked the shop's door, and looked at Trent. They still had the shop to clean, but Trent was sitting. She couldn't blame him. She was just as tired.

“I never want to work another day like this,” Barbara said.

“Me either, but I guess we better get started on the cleaning.”

“Yes.”

Trent had already cleaned the sink area, and now he started sweeping and scrubbing as Barbara cleaned around the hair station.

“Word around town is you're good with investing,” he said.

“Are you interested in investing?”

“I thought it was about time I started. I've got a little saved up.”

Barbara glanced up. “Do you own your own home?”

“No.”

“Then that's where you should start. You should take care of the basics first. The price of housing is down now and it's a good time to purchase. And after that's taken care of, you can invest a portion of your savings in the stock market because that's down, too. But you have to be selective in choosing stocks. You want sound companies, those where the shares have been depressed because of the market, not the value of the stock, and one that will eventually increase when the economy picks up.”

“I see.”

“Are you moving back to D.C. or will you settle here?”

“Definitely D.C.”

“Well, get yourself a steady job there and continue saving. Then buy your house, or townhouse or condo, whichever you prefer. Shouldn't take more than a year or so if you have good credit. Now, make sure you have a good credit record.”

“I do.”

Barbara nodded. “You're a good worker, you know that? You could go far. So I'll give you my number when you leave and when you've purchased your house, we'll talk about investing in stocks. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a good plan,” he said.

“Better still, after Thanksgiving, I'll give you some books to read and teach you how to select stocks.”

“Even better,” he said. “So when do I return to work?”

“Wednesday after Thanksgiving.”

“I'm leaving for D.C. Think I'll spend the holiday with my family.”

“Do they know you're coming?”

He shook his head.

“What a nice surprise. They'll be pleased to see you.”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“You have a safe trip and I'll see you Wednesday,” Barbara said as they left the shop.

She went home and showered before rushing to the B&B.

She and Liane hugged in the foyer.

“I thought you'd never get here,” Barbara said. Some pies and wine was left over from happy hour, and they each got a slice before she and Liane settled in chairs near the fireplace.

“I thought I'd have to find you a good lawyer,” Liane said. “I have one on standby for both of us.”

“You're still talking about that? I told you I have it under control.”

Liane's blond hair brushed her shoulders. She wore jeans and a comfortable T-shirt.

“I'm dying to meet your sheriff.”

“You will. He's taking us to church tomorrow.”

Liane scoffed. “Church? I haven't seen the inside of a church in months. Not since the last time you dragged me there.”

“That's your problem. I'm dragging you there again.”

“Don't feel you have to entertain me. I'm beat and I plan to get plenty of rest. Besides, there's this handsome guy I saw earlier. He wasn't wearing a ring. I'm going to try to strike up a conversation.”

“Knock yourself out, girl.” She smiled at her friend. “I'm so glad you're here.”

“Me, too.”

“Harper knows something's going on. I told him I was putting the shop up for sale in January.”

Liane sighed. “Barbara, how do you really feel about Harper?”

Barbara clutched a hand to her chest. “My God, Liane, I love him,” she whispered.

On Tuesday, members from several churches arranged baskets for seniors and the disadvantaged. Harper dropped Barbara off that morning on his way to work since she was going with him to deliver them that evening.

The island's investigator, Alyssa Claxton, returned from her training and stopped by that afternoon to talk to her grandmother. When she was on her way out, she paused by Barbara's table. Alyssa wasn't one to beat around the bush.

“Hear that Harper's a lot happier since he's been seeing you.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “I like you, Barbara, and I'm glad he's found someone stable.”

Barbara didn't know what to say to that.

“He's a good man, Barbara, and he loves you. I've never seen him taken with a woman the way he is with you.” When Barbara started to speak, Alyssa held up a hand. “He hasn't said anything. He's very private. But I've known him a long time and I can tell. He needs you. I hope it works out. If you ever need anything, I'm just a phone call away.”

“Thanks, Alyssa.” Barbara was warmed by this tough woman's warm regard.

“Besides, you're my cousin. We're family.”

Barbara chuckled. “I've met more family lately than I have my entire life.”

“But I mean it.”

Barbara gave her a tremulous smile. “Thank you.”

“Well, I've got to go.”

An hour later, Lisa stopped by. “Hey, Barbara, now that we're kinfolk, does that mean I can get my hair done for free?”

“Sure, as long as you clean my house for free.”

Lisa laughed and went in search of her mother and Naomi.

Ten minutes later, Naomi approached Barbara. “Barbara, I want you to fix up a basket for three for the Stones. You know their house got broken into and destroyed inside. How do people live with themselves? It was totally unnecessary.”

Barbara reserved comment.

“I don't know their financial situation, but the Christian thing to do is to offer them a basket.”

It went against Barbara to have to prepare a basket for them, but she couldn't give Naomi a reason why she shouldn't. “I'll be happy to fix one for them.” Now they knew how it felt to have their home invaded.

“No rush. I'm going to take it with me when I leave this evening.”

After Harper got off from work, someone handed him a list of names and he gave it to Barbara when she left with him to make the deliveries. He'd driven his SUV.

“So who's on our list?” he asked.

Barbara opened it and gave him the first name. “We have a list of seniors.”

“Seniors?” He looked at her in horror. “Are you crazy?”

“What's wrong with delivering to seniors? Why does it matter who we deliver to?”

Harper only shook his head. “They always sucker the new ones.”

“I don't see the problem.”

“That's because you've lived in New York, the land of anonymity,” he said. “You'll see.”

It didn't take long for Barbara to grasp what Harper meant. An experience that should have taken a couple of hours actually took five. At every house they stopped at, someone invited them inside to “visit for a spell.”

“I just made an apple pie. Try a slice.”

“I baked banana bread. Have a slice.”

“I just made banana pudding. Have a dish.”

“I make the best clam chowder on the island. Have a bowl.”

And some of them even talked about Dorsey, how they attended high school with her, and the fact that she visited and was looking forward to her move to the island, and how glad they were that Barbara was now home.

When Harper finally drove into his yard and in the garage, Barbara said, “I guess dinner's been taken care of.”

Harper laughed. “You'll know better next year. Hopefully, you'll choose a better list.”

That stopped her. Next year. She wouldn't be here next year. So why was she suddenly sad? Even though it was tiring, it was so nice getting to meet so many of the older people who were so welcoming and grateful to see them. Who'd heard about Barbara and wanted to reveal stories about her grandparents and great-grandparents. And they all invited her back for a visit.

The garage door had closed behind them, and gratefully they went inside the house. When she started upstairs, Harper leaned against the counter and pulled her close.

“Do you ever think about the future? What you'll be doing next year, five years, ten years from now?”

Barbara looked away briefly and couldn't stop the sadness that gripped her. “I did before my grandmother died. Now…well…all my plans have changed. And I just…I haven't been able to plan that far ahead.”

“What would you be doing right now if your grandmother was here?”

She told him about their plans of traveling, then moving to the island.

“In the house where you're living.”

Barbara nodded.

“What was she like?”

“She never looked back. She did what needed to be done and kept going.”

“I would love to have met her.”

Barbara smiled. “She would like you.”

“Did you and she travel much in the past?”

“Every year we took at least one long trip. We visited all the places she always wanted to see.”

“That must be some comfort for you.”

Barbara hadn't thought of that. “It is.”

“Do you want to travel now?”

She sighed, wondering where he was going with this. “I don't know.”

“Would you like me to travel with you after the cases are solved? I can take two or three weeks. I can't travel an entire year, but we can take some long weekends together. I haven't taken all my vacation days in years. Usually I lose most of my hours.”

“I don't need to be coddled. I'm used—”

“I know,” he said in frustration. “I know you can take care of yourself. It's not about being capable. It's…” He swallowed audibly. “I want to be with you.”

She touched his face, leaned up on tiptoes, and kissed him briefly, inhaling his familiar scent, feeling warmth, contentment, and yet reservation, too, because she couldn't give him or be what he wanted. “I enjoy my time with you, Harper. More than you'll ever know.”

“If you leave here next year, what would you do in New York or Philly that you can't do here?”

My God, that man was persistent. Barbara started to lie, to map out a fictional plan, but in the end, she couldn't. Not when he was looking so earnestly at her. And knowing that whatever he said came from the heart. “I don't know. I just haven't thought that far ahead.”

“You know, I can live with myself and by myself. But the thing is, when my life feels fuller with you, I'd rather not. It wasn't until you moved here that I realized how empty my life really was. I work, and that gives me comfort. But I'm fifty. I won't be sheriff forever. I could get voted out at any time.”

“Says the man who's been voted sheriff for the last twenty years.”

“What I'm saying is, I guess I'm getting selfish, but I want something for me for a change,” he said.

Barbara wasn't going to ask him to elaborate. She knew exactly what he felt because she felt that way about him.

“I like coming home to you at night. When the lights are shining bright, knowing you're inside waiting for me. I don't care how bad my day has been, Barbara—nothing tops having you here.”

“Harper, I don't know what to say. My career and my grandmother were my life. And you've given me something I never thought I'd find.”

“Then trust me. I don't want to box you in. I know you enjoy your freedom, but I think we can add to each other's lives.”

“I trust you.”

He regarded her silently. Barbara knew that he wanted more than she could give him right now, probably ever.

“I'm going to take a shower,” he finally said, disappointment lacing his words. He left her standing in the kitchen.

 

Sonya took a boat back to the island late that night. After making sure the police weren't staking out the place, she went to Tootsie's cottage. Now the police were looking for her and she had no way of getting that money from Barbara—especially if she died.

The only other option was the bowl. She needed to know who Tootsie was making it for. She knew it was still missing and they might have the original. Tootsie was probably making that fake bowl to get the reward. If Sonya had time, she'd make a fake herself, but she needed to get moving. Alyssa's boyfriend, Jordan, would pay a fortune to get that bowl back. She'd heard about a reward.

Word was, Alyssa still hadn't agreed to marry him. He probably thought he'd give her that bowl for a wedding gift or something. Sonya smothered a laugh. If she could get the bowl, she'd get the reward. The brother was loaded. With the money she already had, she and Andrew could escape to the island and wait on his inheritance.

Tootsie took suitcases to her car, then went inside and didn't come out for a while.

She knocked on Tootsie's door. It only took seconds for Tootsie to open the door just a scant couple of inches. She appeared nervous and kept her body in the doorway. But Sonya was twice Tootsie's size, so she just eased the door back.

“What're you doing here this time of night?” she asked.

“I told my roommate I'd help you with your sculpture if you needed it.”

“I don't work this late. I'm going to visit my family. Maybe you should leave. The sheriff came around here searching for you. Nancy's been asking if anyone knew where you or your old man was.”

“Did she say why?”

“No.”

“I don't know why they're looking for me.”

“You're supposed to be home,” Tootsie said.

“Changed my mind.”

Tootsie nodded. “Maybe you should check with Nancy about why the sheriff came by. It's late and I have a long day tomorrow.” She yawned. “I'm getting ready for bed.”

“Then why do you have your car all packed?”

“For tomorrow. I'm visiting my family.”

Sonya nodded. Did she think she was talking to a fool?

“What's that you're working on in there?”

“A gift for my family. It's time for you to go,” she said impatiently.

“Who are you making that gold bowl for?”

“What gold bowl?”

“Don't play dumb. You're doing a replica of the lost bowl. The one that belongs to that old lady. And I want to know what you plan to do with it. You got the real bowl?”

“Of course not.”

Sonya moved forward. Tootsie stepped back. “How about we split the reward money.”

“What reward?”

“I want some of that reward.”

Tootsie nodded. “Sure. Come by here tomorrow and we'll discuss it.”

“Oh, no. I'm not letting you outta my sight.”

Tootsie looked at her as if she were crazy. “You can't stay here. The police are looking for you.”

“They won't expect me to be in your cottage.”

Tootsie kept backing up.

“You stand right there. I'm not finished with you.”

Suddenly, Tootsie lashed out at her and cut her with the edging tool.

“Damn it.” Sonya jumped back, fumbled for the gun in her pocket, and fired. The shot went wild, but by then Tootsie was on her. The women struggled. For such a small, scrappy woman, Tootsie was strong. And Sonya's arm hurt too much to do much damage. Sonya's fist glanced off her jaw. Tootsie nailed her good with her fist, dazing her. Then that whore took a statue and slammed it over Sonya's head.

For a moment, Sonya lay there dazed. By the time she came to, she was hurting like an old arthritic woman. Tootsie was gone—and so was that stupid bowl. That bitch.

Sonya heard commotion outside a second before someone banged on the door. She quickly climbed through the window and ran toward her boat.

 

Two things caught Harper's attention in the small room. Blood on the floor and the trail leading to a window. He'd already sent John to check it out. The other disturbing thing was the picture of Naomi Claxton's golden bowl and gold scraps on the floor. Why would this woman have a picture of the bowl? An artist at that? There was always the possibility of someone melting it for the gold.

Nancy hovered outside with many of the artists as his team went through the house.

There were no bodies, so either a body was taken off or both parties ran away after the commotion.

Harper sent John cruising around the island while he dealt with the scene.

 

With the shooting at the artist colony, Harper had very little sleep the previous night.

Wednesday morning he called the Philly PD. He couldn't wait any longer for Barbara to tell him the truth. He was going to do whatever it took—anything it took—to keep Barbara here even if she didn't want his interference. He knew that her grandmother died earlier that year and she was Barbara's only relative. Any trouble that Barbara was involved in more than likely had something to do with her grandmother's death.

He called the medical examiner's office and identified himself.

“I'm inquiring about the cause of death of Dorsey McNair,” he said, and gave the approximate time period. After fifteen minutes on hold someone came back.

“Her death was caused by a fall down a flight of stairs. Her neck was broken. Death occurred on impact.”

“Did the granddaughter contest that decision?”

“Detective Mosley was in charge of that. I can give you his number.”

“Thank you.” Harper copied the number and then dialed the detective, only to find he was out until after the holidays. He had left an alternate number, but Harper wanted to talk directly to him. He left a message hoping he'd hear back soon.

 

After his talk with Barbara on Saturday, Trent drove to D.C. He thought maybe his presence would make his mother feel better. Every day, he'd forced her out of bed. She was weak from sitting and lying around. Sunday, he forced her to walk around every hour. She leaned on his arm, walking around in a daze. No spark of life was left, and he was tearing out what little hair he had trying to think of anything that would bring her out of this melancholy state.