The Baron Blasko Mysteries | Book 4 | Tentacles

by Howe, A. E.

  “Why is that?” Blasko interjected. Josephine knew how much he hated to be left out of a conversation. She stared at him, trying to get him to understand that this was not the time to push the sheriff.

  “’Cause there isn’t anything worth seeing on that island. The cedar trees have all been cut down for pencils and the fishing… ain’t the same.”

  “We heard that the beaches are quite nice,” Blasko said, ignoring Josephine’s hard look.

  “You heard wrong. Aren’t any beaches. Just sawgrass around the island, mostly.” Sheriff Avery looked at the three of them before going on in a more kindly tone. “I don’t know what y’all are looking for, but I can tell you that you won’t find anything you need down there. The place ain’t been right for years. You get out there and need help, you’ll be out of luck. There’s no phone lines and my buddy who’s the sheriff in Cedar County won’t go out on the island unless he has to.”

  “What is so dangerous on the island?” Blasko asked. Josephine rolled her eyes behind the sheriff’s back, wishing that Blasko would just shut up and let the man go.

  Avery gave Blasko a hard look. “You questioning me?”

  “No. I’m just curious what you think is wrong on Cedar Island.”

  Josephine didn’t like the look on the sheriff’s face and decided to give him an out. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we understand.”

  The sheriff looked at her. “I don’t know what you people think you’re playing at, but I can tell you that if it involves Cedar Island, you’re in for trouble. When the sun goes down, I want you people out of my county.”

  The sheriff spun on his heel and knocked Hanson out of the way as he stumped back toward the stairs. Hanson regained his footing and meekly followed, shutting the door to Blasko’s room behind him.

  “What were you thinking, asking him questions?” Josephine hissed at Blasko.

  “There was no harm done.”

  “I’ll give you a little advice. When a sheriff knocks on your door, he wants to be the only one asking questions.” Josephine was still nervous after the close call.

  “I needed to distract him. Anton didn’t bring his passport with him,” Blasko said with a wave of his hand toward Anton, who still stood by the door looking unconcerned.

  “Speaking of passports, where’d you get yours?”

  “You should get out more. A while ago, Matthew introduced me to a man with a contact in Birmingham who is very skilled at reproducing documents. I thought it might be… convenient to have a passport. It was easy with Anton’s as an example for the man to—”

  “Enough. I don’t want to hear anything else about forged passports,” Josephine said, exasperated at Blasko’s cavalier attitude toward criminal offenses that could land a person in jail for decades. She made a mental note to give Matthew Hodge hell whenever he returned from New Orleans, where he was currently in residence learning how to live with being a werewolf.

  “All’s well that ends well. We even learned that there is something sinister taking place on Cedar Island.” Blasko raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Now I really must rest. I hadn’t expected this interruption to my routine.”

  Josephine wanted to say more, but as she calmed down she realized he was right. They’d escaped a tricky situation and been given warning of things to come, both of which should put them on their guard for the remainder of the trip.

  “Get back in your coffin. I’ll see you as soon as the sun goes down.”

  Across the hall, Grace was pacing the floor of Josephine’s room. She had been in the adjoining bathroom when the sheriff knocked on Blasko’s door and had known enough not to get involved in anything that had to do with the law.

  “One time I’m glad to be the black woman. That sheriff probably didn’t even give me a second thought.”

  By nine o’clock, they were motoring out of the county and were only an hour from Cedar Island. The air blowing through the cars was warm and moist as they approached the turnoff that would lead them through five miles of salt marsh and across the bridge to the island.

  Josephine was glad Grace hadn’t heard Sheriff Avery declare that Cedar Island held some unnamed danger. She would have preferred not to have heard it herself. Were the sheriff’s concerns linked to her uncle’s death, or were the two events separate and distinct?

  As they crossed the steel bridge, they could see lights on in the homes scattered around the island. Some of the lights were brighter where the residents had electricity, while most were the soft yellow of oil lamps. Most of the houses near the water had docks jutting out into the Gulf. A full moon left a glittering trail on the waves.

  The Cedar Island Hotel wasn’t hard to find. It was one of only two buildings on the island with a second floor; the other was a dry goods store with living quarters above. All the rest of the businesses were simple one-story wooden structures, faded grey from years of wind and sand.

  “Place looks dried up,” Grace observed as they passed several store fronts with whitewash on the windows.

  “What would you expect? Even the strongest towns are suffering with the Depression. A place like this out in the middle of nowhere is bound to be struggling.”

  Josephine parked her car at the curb in front of the hotel. Wide balconies wrapped around the first and second floors. Blasko pulled in behind her and got out of his car. Despite the heat, he was wearing a black coat, starched white shirt and a neatly knotted black silk tie. He joined Josephine and they entered through the hotel’s double doors, which were propped open to catch the breeze.

  The soft warm glow of the lights did little to brighten the lobby, which was paneled in dark wood. Only the brass bell on the counter seemed to pick up the light. Blasko stepped forward and was about to ring the bell when a gaunt woman in her fifties came out of the dining room, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist.

  “Y’all must be the folks from Alabama. I got your reservation yesterday,” she said as she stepped behind the desk and rooted around for a moment. “Here it is.” She brought up the telegram that Josephine had sent. “Josephine Nicolson and… Baron Blasko. You a real live baron?”

  Blasko gave her a crooked smile and a slight nod. “Yes, I am a Romanian baron,” he said, not elaborating on whether he was alive or not.

  “That’s interesting. We seem to be getting our share of foreigners lately.” She opened the guest register and turned it to face them. “Need you to fill out these two lines. The telegram said something about servants. We have quarters out back.”

  “I said that I would pay for them to have rooms alongside ours,” Josephine reminded her.

  “Not our usual policy and right now we got a pretty full house.” The woman frowned. She looked past Blasko to Anton and Grace, who were each holding two pieces of luggage. “I suppose I can give you the four rooms on the west side. Each set of rooms has a bathroom between. Goin’ to cost you. Those are the best rooms we have left. Can’t do anything else. Our other guests wouldn’t want to share a bathroom with the help.” This was delivered with a slightly snooty upturn of her nose.

  “We’re fine sharing a bathroom with our employees… and friends.” Josephine was rewarded with a sharp look from the owner.

  “I’m Mrs. Lachlan. You’re in luck. Our other guests are just sitting down to dinner, which we serve late most nights in the summer.”

  When Josephine was finished filling out the register, Mrs. Lachlan turned to the wall behind the desk and selected four keys. “I’ll show you to your rooms. We don’t have any bellhops or nothin’ like that, so you’ll need to carry your own luggage.” She headed for the wide staircase.

  At the landing, the hallway branched. Mrs. Lachlan went left and everyone followed. Their rooms took up the entire west side of the second floor of the hotel.

  “Is there a post office in town?” Josephine asked as Mrs. Lachlan showed them the various features of their rooms and bathrooms.

  “Of course there is. How primitive do you think
we are? Two buildings down on the other side of the street.”

  “Shall we go down to dinner?” Blasko asked Josephine once Mrs. Lachlan was gone. The woman had given them both a grumpy look when Blasko didn’t retreat to his room, but stayed to talk to Josephine.

  “I think she was about to give us a lecture on morals,” Josephine said with amusement. “Dinner would be a good opportunity to meet the other guests. I’m curious why so many other people are here when Sheriff Avery made it plain that this island has nothing to offer a tourist.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “I’ll eat in the kitchen,” Grace said.

  “You don’t have to.” Josephine was already irritated with Mrs. Lachlan’s attitude toward Grace and Anton.

  “I, too, will eat in the kitchen,” Anton said from the doorway.

  “Certainly,” Blasko said, receiving a frown from Josephine. “He is my servant,” Blasko stated with a firm nod.

  “Fine. Now you two get out and let us change.”

  “I will be ready shortly,” Blasko said, bowing at the waist to Josephine. Anton kept his head down and scooted away behind his master.

  “Why I’m changing to eat in the kitchen, I don’t know,” Grace said, heading for her own room while Josephine dug a light summer dress from her suitcase.

  Chapter Six

  When Blasko and Josephine entered the dining room, they were surprised at the guests who were gathered there. Josephine didn’t know what she’d expected, but she knew it wasn’t this eclectic mix of sophisticates. It looked as if someone had grabbed a bunch of people milling about outside of a London opera house and transported them to Cedar Island.

  The room was large, with a rectangular table that could hold twenty or more guests, and four smaller round tables. The six guests were seated at one end of the large table. The four men stood up when they saw Josephine.

  “New guests! You’ve missed the cocktail hour; too bad for you,” said an anemic-looking, red-faced man wearing a tan British military uniform. Even with his accent, it was clear that he was slurring some of his words. “Captain Reginald Hume, at your service.”

  “Baron Dragomir Blasko,” he announced and gave a slight bow. “And my cousin, Josephine Nicolson.” He took Josephine’s hand and raised it in presentation.

  “Well spoken. I’m Eric Donavan. It is very nice to meet you.” A broad-shouldered man wearing a tweed jacket smiled at them. His accent spoke of a very cold upbringing, if not in Canada then within a short dogsled ride of the border. Like Hume’s, his speech was a little slurred, suggesting more than a couple of drinks. “Should I presume to introduce the ladies?”

  “If you must,” muttered the dark-haired woman seated to his right.

  “Then I’ll start with you, my fiery Spanish maiden.” He smiled down at her while she rolled her eyes, which were framed by the longest lashes Josephine had ever seen. “I present Jamila Molina.”

  “As he says. It is very good to have some more sophisticated dinner companions,” she said, giving Donavan a sharp look.

  “You wound me.” He put his hand to his heart before extending his arm across the table in the direction of a starkly beautiful, dark-skinned woman. Her black hair was cut in a short bob and fine gold jewelry was liberally spread around her head and neck. “This rare Egyptian beauty is Neith Abubakar.”

  Neith made no acknowledgement of Donavan, but she turned and gave the slightest tilt of her head in the direction of Josephine and Blasko. Josephine couldn’t help but notice that Neith’s gaze lingered on Blasko.

  “I’m Elliot Zhao,” the third man said. There was a hint of China in his accent, but his features reflected parents born on two separate continents. “We are pleased to have you join us.”

  The man standing across from him said, “I’m Wallace Brock.” In all ways he was unremarkable, yet Josephine thought his eyes held a cold darkness.

  Josephine and Blasko joined the group at the table.

  “I must say that I’m a little surprised to see such a… diverse group of guests,” Josephine said, looking around at everyone.

  “We didn’t expect to meet a baron either,” Donavan said. “Where do you hail from, Baron?”

  “I am from the Carpathian Mountains, part of Transylvania.”

  “You all fought on our side during the war,” Hume said, more loudly than was necessary.

  “Indeed. We had been living unhappily under the control of the Austro-Hungarian empire until Romania entered the war.”

  “Do we have to talk about the war?” Donavan grumbled.

  “Too young. Feeble excuse,” Hume pronounced.

  Josephine guessed that Donavan was only a few years younger than herself. She figured that barely being a teenager was a reasonable excuse for staying out of the conflict.

  “Here comes the food,” Brock announced.

  Josephine turned and saw Mrs. Lachlan and a young woman with odd facial features and barely discernable ears carrying in several platters and bowls.

  “We got pork sausage and potatoes, corn, palm salad and cornbread,” Mrs. Lachlan said as she placed the food onto the table. When the young woman put down the last bowl, it seemed to be the signal for the guests to start eagerly helping themselves. Only Neith seemed above the fray, watching all the others.

  “I’m hoping to get some seafood while we’re down here,” Josephine said.

  The words had hardly left her mouth when each of the guests suddenly stopped eating. Some looked down at their plates while others glanced up at the ceiling. Brock coughed uncontrollably for a moment. While Josephine tried to come up with a response to this odd reaction, she saw Blasko raise his eyebrows.

  “Sorry, it seems the fisherman around here aren’t the easiest to deal with,” Hume said, waving the issue away. Josephine noticed that the odd young woman was watching them from the door to the kitchen, her unblinking eyes reminding Josephine of a frog.

  The guests slowly went back to their food. Blasko looked ready to say something, but Josephine jumped in front of him, blurting, “This is a lovely old hotel.” She was sure that Blasko had been about to follow up on Hume’s odd comment, but she decided it was best to keep the conversation non-confrontational.

  “Built about fifty years ago, I understand,” Hume said, taking a piece of cornbread from the plate as it passed him.

  “My room smells moldy,” Jamila said, wrinkling her nose.

  “What brought all of you here?” Blasko asked, eyeing Josephine to see if she was going to interrupt him again.

  The guests looked at one another for a moment before they took turns answering his question.

  “I came down to find… a little peace of mind,” Brock said, scooping potatoes onto his plate. “Chicago is a stressful town with all the gangsters.”

  “I came for my health. My doctor ordered me to find a warmer climate,” Hume explained. He turned to Jamila.

  “I paint. Audubon is a hero of mine,” Jamila stated with a bland inflection, then turned to look at Elliot Zhao.

  “I am on sabbatical from the University of Hong Kong. I just wanted to see different parts of the world.” Zhao’s gaze went back and forth between Blasko and Josephine as he spoke, then he nodded to Neith.

  The woman shifted in her chair and looked uncomfortable. “I am here to study the ancient mounds of the Timucua Indians.” She quickly returned her gaze to her plate and continued to pick at the food like a bird.

  “You’re from Egypt?” Blasko asked.

  “Yes,” Neith said without elaborating

  “That leaves me.” Donavan smiled. “I came down for some boating”

  “Bravo for you,” Josephine said, and Donavan gave her a smile and a slight nod.

  “The baron is your cousin?” he asked with the slightest hint of flirtation. Jamila rolled her eyes.

  “Yes, I met him on a trip to Romania.”

  “I’d like to hear about your trip sometime.” Donavan’s tone was even more suggestive.

&n
bsp; “That might be arranged,” Josephine said, and felt Blasko tense up beside her. She gave him a small kick under the table.

  For the next twenty minutes, everyone concentrated on eating until dessert was brought out. Josephine thought that the red velvet cake was almost as good as the ones Anna made.

  “What do folks do in the evenings around here?” Josephine asked, noticing another exchange of looks.

  “We’ve been having a game of bridge. Not much else to do, really,” said Hume.

  “I would think a walk down by the water would be very pleasant,” Josephine said, looking at Donavan. She’d decided that if she was willing to flirt a little, he might tell her more about the island.

  “I wouldn’t recommend going out at night,” Hume said.

  “Night air isn’t good for you,” Brock agreed with a forced smile.

  “I’ve always found the night air very refreshing,” Blasko shot back. Josephine decided not to intervene this time.

  “The island hasn’t been very fortunate during these hard economic times. I think the captain was referring to some incidents where folks have been robbed at night walking home from the bar,” Brock explained.

  “Bar? I thought you said there wasn’t anything to do around here at night,” Josephine interjected, and this time she could clearly see the agitation in the others.

  “You don’t want to go to The Dragon,” Mrs. Lachlan said, coming through the door from the kitchen. “That’s a sailor’s bar. Place is full of rough types. Even during Prohibition, the sheriff ain’t had the guts to come on the island and close the place down.”

  Josephine again noticed the odd appearance of the young woman who was assisting Mrs. Lachlan with clearing the plates. When they returned to the kitchen, Josephine leaned close to Jamila. “Who is the woman helping Mrs. Lachlan?”

  “Just a local girl. Skin problem. Very shy. Very sad.” Jamila dismissed the woman as a topic worthy of conversation.

  There was a little more small talk, punctuated by awkward silences. The other guests managed to deflect every effort by Josephine and Blasko to draw them out.