“Are we being followed?” she asked, not wanting to look around and see for herself. She knew from experience that if she was caught by a camera, even in a moving automobile, that photo would be plastered on the Internet, newspapers, and, worst of all, the Chasing Justice show.
“No, but I wanted to make sure we got enough distance in case they tried. How the hell did they get someone down here from INN so fast?”
“They’re like dust mites, Henry. They’re everywhere. You just can’t see them. Now I wish I hadn’t talked you into putting ‘Ten Villas’ on every vehicle we own.”
Sabrina had been reluctant to bring attention to herself when she’d moved to St. John. Henry had pointed out
that, while that might work for Sabrina’s personal life, it wouldn’t for the business they hoped to build. Now in their gecko-green jeeps, they were like moving targets for INN, the “In” News Network.
“Should I take you to my place?” Henry asked.
“How about the Westin and you keep Girlfriend for the night?” Sabrina asked, doubting the hotel was pet friendly and not wanting to bother him any more than she already had. Their friendship originated in a common interest, which was to get away from horribly painful experiences they’d had in Boston and start over completely with what money they’d each been able to extract from their respective situations. Would her circumstances topple Henry’s second chance for happiness? She hoped not. He might not have been tried for first-degree murder, but Allied Air had betrayed him as badly as Ben had her.
“Um, Sabrina, where do you think those reporters will be staying?”
Of course they would have to stay at the Westin, the only hotel on island other than the fabulous and famous Caneel Bay Resort, originally developed by one of the Rockefellers, which was always booked and probably wouldn’t let some low-level INN reporter in its front door. It bothered Sabrina that she wasn’t thinking clearly, and she was scared to realize how limited her choices could be on an island.
“Call Neil and tell him what’s going on. I’m taking you to my condo,” Henry said.
Sabrina turned her cell phone back on, having shut it off while talking to Neil at Bar None. She could see she had missed two calls. One from Angela Martino, the other from Sam Leonard. She didn’t want to talk to either but figured she should at least listen to their messages. She put her phone on speaker so Henry could hear.
“Sabrina, how could you let this happen? I cannot believe blood has been spilled at my precious Villa Mascarpone. Do you think anyone is ever going to want to rent my villa ever again? You’d better call me and tell me how you are going to fix this situation. I consider you and Henry responsible. You should not be renting my villa to the kind of people who go and get themselves murdered.” Click.
“Let me handle her. Don’t give Miss Hissy a second thought,” Henry said, and Sabrina decided to let him.
“Sabrina, it’s Sam Leonard. I think we may have been a little hard on you today. You know, the messenger instead of the message. But Deirdre had her heart set on Villa Mascarpone. So I just want you to know that whenever it’s released or whatever the police do when they finish up, we’d like to move right over there.”
“Wow. That ought to help you with Angela,” Sabrina said.
“Yes, and it gives me an idea,” Henry said as he pulled into the drive for Trade Wind Estates, where his condo was located high atop Gifft Hill. He stopped at the imposing wrought-iron gate and hit a few keys. It swept open, letting them slip through. They’d be safe from INN, at least for tonight. Sabrina’s relief was palpable.
“Call Neil,” Henry reminded her.
She called Neil’s cell phone. He’d given her the number before she left Bar None. He picked right up.
“What’s up, Salty? You haven’t gotten yourself in more trouble, have you?”
Sabrina knew he was trying to keep it light. Hearing his voice made her want to cry for some reason. Not just weep but bawl, preferably while he held her. She was close to the edge.
“Neil, I just thought you would want to know that you were apparently right. Judging from the number of cops at my house, it looks like they’re conducting a search. They must have gotten the warrant.”
“That’s okay. They’ll make a mess of your house, but that’s the worst of it. You’ve got nothing to hide. Nantucket has nothing to do with this,” he said. Sabrina felt encouraged by how positive he sounded.
“The other thing is, Neil, INN is on island. A reporter was outside my house when the cops were doing the search. They probably filmed Girlfriend as Henry rescued her,” she said, sorry even her poor dog was being displaced by this sorry saga.
“Well, it looks like I finally have a costar I deserve. They got me on camera a little while ago when I threw their sorry asses out of Bar None,” Neil said.
For the first time that day, Sabrina smiled.
Chapter Eleven
“Where are you?” Kelly tapped the text message onto the screen of her cell phone, stepping outside onto the deck surrounding the pool where reception was strongest. This was just one more reason she hated living on an island where nothing was easy. Even texting or talking to her boyfriend was a major hassle.
“In the cabana, inside the shower stall. Come see me,” Seth texted back.
Seth had done this before, always when her father was out. Hidden in the cabana, he told her to sneak out for a short visit. Seth’s daring nature thrilled Kelly more than it scared her. Making sure Mara wasn’t in sight and that Liam was with her in the kitchen doing homework, she walked past the pool toward the end where the cabana stood. She opened the door slowly and quietly, slipping in and closing it again. She passed the shelves of pool toys and towels, moving to the corner of the cabana, and pulled the shower curtain open about six inches. Seth stood waiting for her with a huge grin on his face. He pulled her into his arms.
“Seth, we have to be careful. I’ll never get out of the house again if we get caught,” Kelly said, but she wasn’t able to resist the strength of his embrace.
“Hey, wasn’t I your pool guy long enough to get the lay of the land? I can disappear down the hillside in a flash. I’ve told you not to worry. We won’t get caught.”
“Did you hear what happened today?” Kelly asked, stepping back, putting a little distance between them.
“Hear what?” he asked.
“Someone died next door at the vacation villa today,” she said.
“Really? At Villa Mascarpone? I hadn’t heard,” Seth said. “What happened? Someone drown in the pool? Have a heart attack?”
“I don’t know what happened. There’s a bunch of cops over there. Liam heard on the ferry someone carved out the guy’s heart over a drug deal, but I don’t believe it. You know how stories on the ferry grow.”
“That brother of yours has quite the imagination,” Seth said with a chuckle.
“He just gets carried away when something exciting happens. It gets his mind off of other things.” It bothered Kelly that Seth considered her brother immature. Kelly wanted to explain that Liam was having a terrible time struggling about how to tell Mara he was gay. But Liam had made her promise to keep his secret and she would.
“I don’t know what to believe about what’s going on at Villa Mascarpone. All Mara will say is that the guy staying there died.”
Kelly shifted so she could peek through the shower curtain and make sure Mara wasn’t looking for her. She didn’t think Mara really cared if she went out with Seth, but her father had gone ballistic the day he caught Seth flirting with her near the pool. Thank God he spent most nights at Bar None.
“Well, you know what you can believe, don’t you, babe?” Seth cooed into her ear.
“No, tell me,” she said, melting a little inside.
“How much I love you, sweetheart.”
“How much, Seth?” she asked, wanting him to tell her how special she was to him and how what they had was nothing like what he’d ever shared with another girl, even t
hough she was sure she wasn’t his first. He was hers, though, and she knew they had something different.
“Babe, I wish I was better with words. When can I see you for more than a few minutes in a cabana? I want to—”
“Kelly, dinner’s on,” Mara called through the sliding screen door to the pool. Kelly was almost relieved she had to leave. It was one thing when she was alone with Seth in the dark and he was doing those things to her, but she wasn’t quite comfortable when he talked about it.
“Coming, Mara,” Kelly called out and then whispered to Seth, “Love you too, and soon isn’t soon enough for me.” She wished she could be with him tonight. She liked how he could take her away to a place entirely new to her. She just didn’t like talking about it.
Chapter Twelve
Henry had just placed the frosted martini glass with three olives on the kitchen island in front of Sabrina when her cell phone rang.
“If that’s Ms. Angela Hissy Missy calling to bitch about how we let a guest get murdered in her villa, don’t answer,” Henry said, pouring himself a glass of Pinot Grigio.
“No, it’s Lyla Banks.” Sabrina picked up the phone and answered. “Hi, Lyla.”
“Sabrina, is that you? I’m always so surprised when someone knows it’s me on the line. I forget about caller ID, even though it’s my favorite modern innovation. How are you, dear? I wanted to make sure you are all right after the shock you had today.”
Sabrina was touched by Lyla’s concern. She felt her eyes begin to sting with tears. Here she was, a woman who had cried only a handful of times in her entire life, and in one day, she had come close to crying about a half-dozen times.
“I’m okay, Lyla. Really, I am. I’m at Henry’s right now because the police and the media are swarming all over my cottage.”
“Well, they must have imported some new police recruits because Villa Mascarpone is still crawling with cops. They have so many garish Klieg lights over there that Evan wasn’t comfortable taking our nightly skinny-dip in the pool after dinner. It’s really rather creepy,” Lyla said.
Sabrina had to admit, skinny-dipping wasn’t something she imagined as part of the Banks’ daily routine, but she liked the idea. “Oh, Lyla, I should have thought to call and offer one of our empty villas for you and Evan. Tree Frog is available and close enough to Cruz Bay to make you feel a little more comfortable,” Sabrina said, looking at Henry for approval. Henry nodded. They both knew how anything out of the Banks’ ordinary routine threw Evan completely off, including bright lights flooding their side yard where the pool was located behind a hedge of Hibiscus.
“Oh, no, we’re fine here, Sabrina, but thank you. It’s just, well, you’ve seen how Evan is when something unexpected happens. And this was definitely unexpected. Do you know, when we lived in New York, we bought a gun, just in case someone broke into our apartment while we were there? We didn’t care if we weren’t home and they helped themselves to our stuff, but Evan said we shouldn’t risk our own safety. We both took firearm training and have gun permits. Never had to use the gun in all those years, and yet now that we decide to retire to safety in St. John, we have a murder across the way. It’s mind boggling,” Lyla said.
“Oh, Lyla, I am sorry. They’ll have this all sorted out soon, I’m sure. Do you feel safe out there? Do you still have the gun?” Sabrina asked. Henry’s eyebrows arched upward at the word “gun.”
“Yes, yes, we brought it with us. It’s locked in the safe. Neither of us felt we needed it out. Do you think I should take it out and place in my nightstand? You know, just in case?”
Really? Put a gun in a nightstand next to your bed, just in case? Sabrina didn’t think she was the person to answer that question.
“Lyla, you have to do whatever makes you and Evan feel safe and secure,” she said, taking a sip of the smooth slippery martini before it got warm. Henry made the best martinis in the world and she deserved this one.
“I know, I know. I’m just rattled by how much this seems to be affecting Evan. I persuaded him to tuck in early with the new John Grisham book I snagged today while volunteering at the library. Evan loves Grisham’s books, though he doesn’t remember them very well anymore.’”
“Lyla, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” Sabrina asked, knowing how difficult it was for Lyla to watch her husband of forty-odd years slipping away from her. It was such a cruel illness, for both the victim and his loved ones. Lyla had explained to her one day that Alzheimer’s disease resulted in what was called “ambiguous loss,” which meant that the person who had the disease was gone, even though his body remained present. “How can you mourn a loss when you are sitting across the table on your lovely deck overlooking the Caribbean staring into his vacant eyes?” Lyla had asked.
“You already have, dear,” Lyla said now. “You’ve listened.”
“You call any time. All of this will be behind us by the time we meet for our book club next week,” Sabrina said.
“I certainly hope so, dear, but in the meantime, I’ll get the gun out of the safe and if I meet anyone who looks like or works for that horrible hack, Faith Chase, I’ll give it to her between the eyes.”
Sabrina clicked off her phone and took another sip of the Bombay Sapphire delight.
“I finally know who I want to be when I grow up, Henry.”
“And who’s that?”
“Lyla Banks.”
Chapter Thirteen
Deirdre walked out of the master bathroom, tying the sash to her white gauzy cotton robe, wishing it weren’t so short or transparent. She didn’t want to remind Sam about what he was missing after he’d attempted to make love to her. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Didn’t he know?
Sam sat on the edge of the huge mahogany four-post canopy bed, so high you had to climb on a stool to lie on. Deirdre watched his long, graceful feet dangling above the tile floor. A gentle breeze sneaked through the sliding screen doors. She knew he was thinking what a waste of a beautiful night in the Caribbean this was.
She climbed into the huge bed, leaving on her robe and nightie beneath. He lumbered onto his back. She waited a few minutes. Sam was still, but she knew from his breathing that he was awake.
“It’s not a honeymoon, Sam. You know that,” she said, her mouth in a pout Sam had once called beautiful.
“Deirdre, we’re stuck, for lack of a better word, in a villa so opulent I couldn’t have even imagined it. We’re here until they clear Villa Mascarpone. Why can’t you just go with it? Try to enjoy this as if it really were a vacation until we get over there.”
“Because I am consumed. Consumed and confused. We were so close. What happened? What went wrong?”
Deirdre turned to him now as he lay back in bed, stark naked, just wanting what any man in bed with a lovely woman would want.
“How do I know? Neither of us expected him to die here. It’s bizarre but probably totally irrelevant to us. It only complicates things, Deirdre. It doesn’t necessarily change them,” Sam said, reaching out to take her hand.
She curled her fingers around his and gave them a squeeze.
“I’ve waited so long, Sam. I’ve spent so much time and energy, not to mention nearly all the money Daddy left me. I can’t help how I feel. And what are we supposed to do now?”
He rolled over and faced her. Deirdre knew he found her what he called “stunning in a fragile way.” Wasn’t that why she’d brought sheer white cotton lingerie, giving him the hint of what was beneath? He had been seduced by her subtlety, which was lost on most men. It certainly had been on her ex-husband.
Ever since Sam had seen her at a faculty meeting one fall in South Hadley, he had been devoted to her. He had heard the stories, even read some of the newspaper clippings. But it didn’t matter. He was under a spell when it came to her.
“Honey, I was only trying to make love to you, make you feel better. I wasn’t trying to upset you,” Sam said, tracing his index finger under her chin.
“I know, I know.
But you knew this about me when we got married. I can’t do anything about it. You know I love you; it isn’t about that.”
Sam sighed.
Deirdre knew Sam appreciated that, for the most part, they had a good life, both of them now tenured professors at Mount Holyoke College. He taught history; she taught English. They had a beautiful home. They even had a golden retriever. But it wasn’t enough. It just couldn’t erase the past, give back what had been taken from her.
“Of course I do. Deirdre, I get it. I cannot imagine how I would feel in your shoes, especially now that I’m a father. I’m behind you, I just wish I could ease your pain, make this easier for you,” he said.
“I hope I didn’t ruin everything,” Deirdre said in a voice as small as a child’s.
“Nope. Don’t even worry about that. I’ve got your back. I already left her a voicemail apologizing if we seemed insensitive when she told us. We were just tired and disappointed after a long trip.”
Deirdre smiled. “You are brilliant, Professor Leonard. I think that will work just fine. Now if you could just figure out what we should do next.”
“We move over to Villa Mascarpone as soon as it’s available and take it from there.” Sam kissed Deirdre’s forehead, which got a little less wrinkled with the brush of his lips. He was so good at soothing her.
“Maybe there’s something we could do before that,” she said and rolled toward him.
Chapter Fourteen
Sabrina awoke to the familiar sound of a predawn tropical shower. Most mornings, St. John washed its beautiful face with a short rainfall just before sunrise. It was enough to quench the thirsty cisterns that collected rain for the island water supply but not so much to dash the plans of tourists. The sound of the rain was soothing, the green smell of wet vegetation intoxicating. As much as she had loved the challenge of forecasting the ever-changing weather in New England, Sabrina found great comfort in the predictability of the weather on St. John.
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