Island of Secrets (6 page)

“He must have done something pretty awful for Angie to get so upset.”

Barb shrugged. “I guess so. She refuses to talk about it or him.”

“Why did Scott drop out of college?” Nancy asked, curious about the handsome blond with the superior air.

“I don't know him very well, but Angie once told me that he was getting a lot of pressure from his father to study pre-law. He didn't like it.”

“Dropping out isn't any way to solve a problem,” Nancy said.

“Maybe there was more to it. I only knew him through Angie, and she and I weren't really close until we began sharing the apartment this summer.”

By the time they finished eating, they were both chilled by the wind. “Let's climb down to the beach another time, Barb,” Nancy said. “I'd like to talk to D.J. right now.”

“Fine with me,” Barb said, packing up their litter. “Besides, this wind must be blowing close to thirty knots. It'll be more fun on a calm day.”

They mounted their mopeds and headed north. Soon after they passed a large lake called
Fresh Pond, Barb turned into an unpaved driveway and Nancy followed her up a steep hill to a huge house under construction. Perched on one of the highest spots on the island, it overlooked rolling fields, ponds, and the sea beyond.

They parked next to a small trailer that Barb explained served as D.J.'s temporary office.

As Nancy turned off her moped, she spotted Scott Winchester coming out the front door. “I think it's great that D.J. is building the congressman's house,” she said to Barb.

“Yes, it's the best commission he's had in a long time. It's an incredible house—everything is custom designed and built by hand, even ordinary things like the window frames.” She turned and shouted, “Hey, D.J.!”

D.J. was standing, staring up at the roof. When he saw Barb, he waved. “Be with you in a minute! No, Hank, not that way,” he yelled to a short, dark-haired man. “Try it from the other side.”

The carpenters were all busy, struggling in the strong wind to fasten huge blue tarps over the only partially roofed house before the storm hit. Scott strode around the site, making suggestions and lending a hand here and there. D.J. kept throwing him angry glances. It was obvious he resented Scott's interference, but Scott didn't seem to notice.

As Nancy and Barb joined D.J., Scott checked his watch and joined them. “Divott, I figure we'll
still have an hour or so once the tarps are in place. How about installing the sliding glass doors before we call it quits for the day?”

“It's too late and windy to start that project now,” D.J. said crisply.

“But my father wanted—” Scott began.

“I don't care. I'm in charge here and I say it can't be done,” D.J. snapped.

Scott shrugged and took off, frowning.

Just then a red sports car zoomed up the driveway. Walt Winchester was at the wheel. As he got out, Scott went over to him.

D.J. watched them and said to Barb, “I ought to walk out on this job. I would, too, except Winchester would sue my socks off if I tried.”

Barb shrugged, then smiled. “Do you have a minute? Nancy has a couple of questions to ask you.”

D.J. seemed ready to refuse, then he sighed and said, “Okay, but only a minute.” He glanced around to make sure nobody could overhear them.

“Tom worked with you, on and off, until the end of June, is that right?” Nancy asked.

“Yeah, when he wasn't working on a boat. He liked them better than houses.”

“Is that why he stopped working for you? He found a job on a boat?”

“Not exactly,” D.J. said suspiciously. “Why are you asking?”

“I was just curious,” Nancy said casually. “I understand he was spending quite a bit of money this summer and I wondered what he was doing to earn it.”

“It's none of your business,” D.J. said coldly.

Nancy said, “I'm only asking because—”

“I don't care why you're asking!” D.J. hissed. “Leave Tom alone! He's dead!”

“But—”

“Look, I never ratted on Tom while he was alive and I'm sure not going to start now!” he shouted. “I don't care if you
are
a detective! You keep your nose out of this!” He stalked off.

Nancy turned to get Barb's reaction and realized the Winchesters were standing nearby. Had they overheard D.J.'s last words?

“Miss Drew, we meet again,” Walt Winchester said courteously.

“Hello, Congressman. Do you know Barb Sommers?” Nancy said.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Sommers.” He shook her hand.

“You're building a beautiful house, Mr. Winchester,” Barb said. “And what a terrific view you'll have.”

“Thank you. We're pleased with it,” he said.

“Dad,” Scott said, “I've got to leave. I, uh, I'm supposed to meet someone about the, uh, plumbing fixtures.”

“Okay,” his father said. “When you get back to
the boat later, check the extra anchor to make sure it's holding. If the wind shifts, you'll have to adjust the angle.”

“All right.” Scott went over to speak to a worker, then took off on his moped.

“Well, I'd better make sure the house is battened down as well as the boat. Please excuse me.” Winchester left to inspect his property.

“Well, now what?” Barb said to Nancy.

“Do you think if we stay a little longer D.J. will calm down and talk to me?” Nancy asked.

Barb shrugged. “I don't know. We can only try.”

Half an hour later D.J. dismissed the work crew, but when Barb approached him, he stalked off, obviously still angry.

Nancy started up her moped. “I've been thinking. I'm sure the key to this case has to be the money Tom was flashing around this summer.”

“You think it's connected with his death?” Barb asked as she adjusted her helmet strap.

“If we find the source of the money, we'll know what he was up to. That may tell us why someone wanted to kill him. You've got to work on D.J., Barb. Get him to talk to me.”

“I'll try.” She revved her engine. “Ready?”

Nancy nodded and they started back to town. Clouds rolled across the sun, dark and ominous, but her mind was so preoccupied with the case, Nancy hardly noticed. She was convinced that D.J. knew how Tom had been getting his money.
If she could only get him to talk to her, that information might lead her to the killer.

They were rounding a curve when Nancy heard the roar of a motorcycle behind them. She moved over to give it room to pass.

Seconds later she felt a tremendous jolt and thud against the back of her moped. The bike leapt sideways and Nancy was thrown off it and into the air!

R
EMEMBERING HER JUDO TRAINING,
Nancy tucked her head, wrapped her arms around her chest, and relaxed her muscles. She hit hard on her right shoulder at the grassy edge of the road. The force of the impact sent her rolling down an embankment.

At last she came to a halt, stopped by a thick hedge of wild blackberry bushes. The thorns scratched through her thin windbreaker and clung to her as she tried to pull away. She stopped fighting and lay still for a moment, catching her breath.

“Nancy!” Barb ran down the embankment. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said calmly. “Except I'm being attacked by a bush.”

“How can you joke at a time like this?” Barb
knelt down and began to pull the thorns from Nancy's clothes.

As soon as she was free, Nancy slid away from the hedge and sat up slowly. “No broken bones, just a few bruises. I'm glad I was wearing a helmet. Did you get a look at that motorcycle?”

“Only a glimpse, but I'm sure I'd recognize it if I saw it again,” Barb said. “It was black, with a yellow streak of lightning painted on the side. I couldn't see the driver's face, because he was wearing a dark helmet visor.”

Nancy stood up. “Is my moped wrecked?”

“I didn't stop to check. Are you sure you can walk?” Barb asked anxiously.

“Yes, I'm fine,” Nancy said. “Come on, let's go. I want to find the idiot who hit me.”

When they found Nancy's moped, it was lying on its side, still running, the rear wheel spinning uselessly. They checked it over. It was dented and scraped but still rideable.

“Let's head for town,” Nancy said. “That's the most likely place he'd go, to try to lose himself in a crowd.”

“I can't believe anyone wouldn't stop to see if you were all right.”

“They call it hit-and-run,” Nancy said grimly. The question is, she added to herself, was the attack deliberate? Unless he was incredibly incompetent, why had he hit her when he had room to pass, a dry road, and no traffic in sight? I want to find that guy, she said to herself.

They rode back to Old Harbor, scanning the traffic as they went.

Finally Barb said, “I'm beginning to think it's useless. He could be anywhere on the island by now.”

“Or even
off
the island, if he caught a ferry.” Nancy checked her watch. “It's three twenty-five. What time does the ferry leave?”

“There's one at three-thirty,” Barb said.

“Hurry, let's get down to the dock.”

By the time they worked their way through the traffic, the ferry's whistle was blowing, signaling its departure. Nancy and Barb jumped off their mopeds and ran toward it, but were stopped by the barrier at the end of the pier.

“Did you see someone with a black motorcycle board the boat?” Nancy asked the girl who collected tickets at the barrier. “It had a streak of yellow lightning painted on the side.”

“Yeah, sharp machine,” the girl said, chewing gum.

“Please, I've got to talk to the driver. Can you let me through?” Nancy said.

“Got a ticket?” the girl asked.

“No, but—”

“No ticket, you don't get through.” The girl snapped her gum. “Those are the rules.”

Nancy glanced at the ticket office, but the crew was already pulling up the boarding ramp, and by the time she got back it would be too late. She
pressed forward, straining at the barrier, trying to spot the motorcycle.

“I think I see it,” Barb said, excited. “Look on the right, beside the blue car.”

“You're right!” Nancy said. “And look who's standing next to the motorcycle! Isn't that one of the construction workers on D.J.'s crew?”

“Yes,” Barb said. “Didn't D.J. call him Hank?”

Nancy cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, Hank!” she shouted. “Hank!”

The man, who was short with a dark suntan, saw her. Surprised, he pushed his way to the stern of the ferry. “What do you want?”

“You sideswiped my moped!” Nancy yelled.

Hank laughed. Most of his answer was drowned out by the ferry's whistle as it pulled away from the dock. All Nancy heard was “Crazy dumb tourist. Why don't you learn how to ride?” He turned and disappeared into the crowd of passengers.

Frustrated, Nancy watched the ferry move out to open water. She pounded her fist on the barrier. “He's not going to get away with this! I'm going to report him to the police. They can have someone pick him up when he arrives at Point Judith.”

They rode over to the police station. Jim smiled when he saw Nancy, but he became serious as he listened to her story.

“The road was perfectly clear,” Nancy finished. “There was no reason for him to hit me.”

“This doesn't sound good.” Jim frowned. “Fill out a report and I'll call the mainland right away.”

Nancy wrote out a detailed report. Jim told her to check back around five, after the ferry had docked.

“Nancy, I've got to stop by the Nature Conservancy office,” Barb said as they went out of the police station.

“Okay, I think I'd better take my moped to the rental shop. It's making a funny noise, and I should tell them about the accident.” She waved goodbye to Barb.

By the time Nancy dealt with the insurance claims and exchanged her moped for another, it was close to five o'clock. She returned to the police station.

Jim shook his head when he saw her come in. “It's the strangest thing,” he said. “The guy you're looking for seems to have vanished. A state trooper boarded the ferry as soon as it docked, ready to pick up whoever claimed the motorcycle. No one showed up. The guy must have walked off the boat with the other passengers, leaving his cycle behind.”

“You're kidding,” Nancy said, amazed. “It's practically a brand-new bike.” Nancy paused, staring at the large map of the island on the wall. “That confirms it. I'm sure he meant to hit me.”

“There's no doubt something fishy's going on,” Jim said. “I'll check with D. J. Divott, since he hired the guy. I'll get a last name, address, and so on. Don't worry, we'll pick him up soon.”

“Thanks, Jim.” Nancy walked out to her moped and stood there in the cold wind, thinking. Hank had just walked off the ferry. No one would abandon an almost new motorcycle unless someone had paid him enough to make it worth his while. But
who
might have paid Hank to run her off the road? D.J.? If he killed Tom, he had a good reason to stop her from investigating the case. Just because Barb was sure he was innocent didn't mean he was.