Stones of Sandhill Island

by Peggy Chambers

  Chapter 40

  Looking in the mirror, the old man tied his tie with arthritic hands. He’d read the email. He could check ballet email from home—and he hurried to get ready. The man said he sent the note for Billie, and Rico wasted no time. He would go before she changed her mind. He might be foolish just dropping by without calling first, but he had learned not to wait for the things that were important in life. He wanted to see his daughter. He knew where she lived; same place as her mother. Sandhill Island. He had been there often enough but never allowed to see Billie. He’d pleaded with Giselle, but she was emphatic that Billie not think she had a father who could not or would not live with her.

  He walked out the door of the aging apartment that sat down the street from the ballet and started the rusty car. It caught on the second try. Salt air could be hard on vehicles, so he seldom bought new. An old car worked fine for his needs and fit his personality. He didn’t need new-fangled things with GPS and options he didn’t know how to use anyway. He smiled as he looked in the rear-view mirror. He hoped she liked him once she met him. She had to. After all she was his daughter, but he felt nervous.

  Pulling up at the ferry, he waited until the flat boat that took cars and pedestrians from the mainland to the island made its return trip. The few cars leaving the island rolled off the ferry, and the few going the other direction pulled on. Once they were parked, the ferry made the trip to the island.

  It took him no time to find the tiny beach house that Giselle had loved so much. Recently painted white with yellow trim, it looked to have been kept in good repair. He slowed as he drove past it the first time, circling the island and getting a feel for the changes that had happened. The harbor was in good shape, with new marinas, and the downtown stores had tourists coming and going. Business appeared to be good. He drove past Le Chez—he knew the restaurant where Billie sang. There were a few cars in the parking lot, but maybe it held more on the weekends. He knew he wasted time. He’d come this far, and he needed to complete the mission.

  Circling back toward her house, he passed a man walking to the harbor in a T-shirt, shorts, and flip flops he didn’t look comfortable in. Tourist. Islanders wore them from birth. The man walked down the newly built dock in the direction of a few boats that were tied up. Some tourists lived on their boats, he knew, even though it must be close quarters.

  Rico pulled up at the beach house and cut the engine, stepping out into the afternoon heat. The door to the screened in porch was propped open with stones, and beautiful music flowed out the door and every open window in the house.

  He rapped on the door of the porch first, and a dog lifted her head to give him a low growl. She lay on a pallet on the floor under the swing that had been raised. She had a litter of puppies with her.

  “Hi, doggie. Is Billie home?” He heard the music stop and a bench move across the wooden floor. He knocked once again. “Anyone home?” he called, but not too loudly. He didn’t want to disturb the dog any more than he already had.

  Footsteps moved in the house, and then he saw the woman who moved like Giselle only with dark hair. He had seen her at the funeral but decided not to introduce himself that day. Emotions were already too high and control fragile.

  She walked barefoot in shorts and moved like a dancer. He knocked again, and she looked up. The dog growled once more but made no movement toward him.

  The young woman stood in the open door to the house and stared his way. He couldn’t see her expression with shadows inside the house, and he had no idea if she recognized him. But then, why would she? She had never seen him before—he didn’t think. She stood still and then walked toward the door.

  Rico cleared his throat. “Good afternoon.” He took off the fedora and leaned on his cane.

  She walked toward him and once again a low growl came from under the swing. “It’s okay, Lillie,” she said as she walked slowly toward the man outside her home.

  “Rico? Rico Santiago.” It was a statement more than a question.

  “Yes.” His voice cracked. “I’m Rico Santiago from Corpus Christi. I’m…a friend of your mother’s.”

  She stepped out onto the porch, looked him up and down, and then smiled her mother’s smile. His heart melted. “I saw you at the funeral. And I believe you were more than a friend to my mother.” She reached a hand out to shake his, but he took it and brought it to his lips. She smelled of lemon oil.

  “I received an email from your friend Neil, and I came as fast as I could. At my age, waiting is not an option.” He smiled, and the dog sat back down with her pups. The older man and younger woman stared at each other in awkward silence.

  “Would you like to come in?” Billie gestured to the open door. “I think I have some tea made.”

  She ushered him through the entry to the couch that sat in the living room, then trotted off to the kitchen. Rico looked around the room he had not been in since Giselle told him not to come back.

  Billie sat a tray on the coffee table with drinks and cookies and handed a glass to him.

  “Rico Santiago. You came. I wondered if the email would sound like a come on or something when Neil said he contacted you. I can’t believe you came.” She looked him over as he sipped the iced tea.

  “I’ve always wanted to come, but your mother thought it wasn’t a good idea. So, I stayed away.”

  “So, you’re still working with the ballet? Your email came from them.” She crossed her legs and pushed her hair behind one ear.

  “Well, my name is still affiliated with them. I don’t dance, but I do work part time in the office and at certain times when they need me. Actually, I still live just down the street from the school. And I understand you sing at Le Chez here on the island?” He posed it as a question knowing the answer.

  “Yes, on the weekends. Like you, I’m part time. I moved here after the accident that took my family. I came to heal, and then Mom got sick and eventually died. Now, I’m just beginning to do the healing. In fact, I got a piano. I ordered it from a place in Corpus, and they just delivered.”

  “You play as well as sing?”

  “Yes, I compose. That’s why I needed the piano. I think it will be good to get back into it. I haven’t done it for years.” Billie sipped the tea and sat it back on the tray.

  “That sounds wonderful. Will you play for me?” His leathery face wrinkled even more when he smiled.

  Billie hesitated. “I can play something from my set at the restaurant. I haven’t written anything yet.” She rose and offered her hand. He struggled into a standing position with the aid of the cane, and she led him into her mother’s bedroom—now her music room.

  Rico walked to the entrance of a bedroom he had been in before, and his heart felt suddenly in his throat. He would not tell his daughter Giselle had allowed him here. In the center of the room sat a petite baby grand piano in gleaming mahogany shining in the sun. Obviously recently polished, it shone like a new penny and smelled of lemon oil. Over in the corner sat a turquoise winged back chair that once graced Giselle’s living room. Billie led him to the chair, pulled out the bench seat she pushed under the piano when not in use, and sat down.

  Her fingers glided over the keys as though a part of the instrument, and she began, slowly at first, Billie Holiday’s God Bless the Child. Her voice reminded him of raw honey dripping from the comb as it slowly gave up its life and fell to the ground. When she finished, she turned to see him wiping away a tear he had promised himself would not fall that day. Not in front of the daughter he had never known until now. She would not see him as weak.

  “Incredible,” was all he could murmur without the flood of tears that threatened to fall.

  She stood and walked to his side and kissed him lightly on the head, and he folded her in an embrace.

  Chapter 41

  Slipping into sandals that lay by the bed in the sun, Billie wriggled her toes in the warmth. Sandy should be here any moment, and they had an appointment at the police station. She wanted t
o go over one more time the agenda for Friday night.

  “Anyone home?” Sandy called as she walked in the front door that normally stood open allowing the sea breeze to blow in the house.

  “Hey, lady. You ready?” Billie walked from the bedroom into the small living room where her friend stood.

  “You bet. The more we go over this the better I feel. The military taught me to first brief and then to debrief. I want to know what’s going on. I may make a checklist.”

  “You do that. I just want it to be over.” Billie grabbed her purse, and they walked out the door together closing it behind them. “Lillie, you’re in charge. Take care of things, and I’ll be back soon.” Lillie lay back down on the pallet with her babies and sighed.

  “You really want to do this?” Sandy pushed her blonde hair back from her face and looked at her friend with green cat-like eyes.

  “It’s the only way. It’s time I got my life back. He’s taken enough. If I just sign the letter he’ll be back again when he needs something else. He must confess to being in the house with Mom the night she died. The DA said if he confesses, he can be held on breaking and entering and manslaughter. He should go to prison for a long time.”

  “You’re putting yourself in danger to get a confession out of him. I think that’s a job for the police.”

  “Like I said, they can’t hold him unless he does something or confesses.”

  The faded red Honda pulled into the front yard, and the door opened. Raven stepped out in shorts and a baseball cap. She seldom wore anything but scrubs for her nursing job.

  “Raven!” Billie ran to hug her friend. “I thought you were going to meet us at the police station.” She wrapped her arms around the woman who had been like a sister to her when they both looked after Giselle. Raven then turned and squeezed Sandy’s shoulder.

  “Well, I thought I might get a look at the puppies, but I’m running behind. Maybe we can do that after?”

  “Of course. Come on and walk with us. You know how close everything is around here.” The women walked out of the yard and down the road to the tiny brick building that housed the constables who looked after their island. Two police cars sat in the only parking places. There would have been nowhere to park if they drove.

  The door opened to a small office—no waiting room. Nothing ever happened on Sandhill Island. They didn’t need much space. The scent of stale coffee and newspapers that littered the desks in the other room flowed through the room. A box of petrified doughnuts sat open on the desk like a shrine. A young woman manned the reception desk, but no introductions were needed. The detective from Corpus Christi rose from the back and ushered in the three women.

  “Have a seat,” the detective gestured to folding chairs next to the commandeered desk.

  The door opened once again, and Neil walked in, taking off his sunglasses and looking around. String’s head automatically ducked to be sure of clearing the door facing, and Sam walked in last, still in his chef’s jacket.

  “I see you brought your entourage.” The detective smiled.

  “My friends are concerned about Friday night,” Billie replied. More folding chairs appeared as if by magic.

  “Okay, here’s the plan. Billie is to finish her set at 11:00, and then, after casually changing her shoes and taking her purse, she will walk to the post office. The way is well lit. My men will be in the parking lot of Le Chez, and the post office, in unmarked cars looking like a normal tourist. One will be in the restaurant. There’s no way he can get past us, and no way for a slip up. Ms. Stone will wear a wire, and she will talk to Franks at the post office. She will tell him she’ll sign the letter only if he states he broke into her house the night of her mother’s death. After we hear that, we will move in and arrest him.”

  “Okay, about the wire. How does this fit and what do I wear? I normally wear cocktail dresses to perform in.” Billie fidgeted in her seat.

  “We’ll have a female officer there to help you get fitted for the wire. It fastens in your bra. I don’t know what your dress looks like, but the more coverage the better.”

  “Maybe the black one? It has wider straps and you could wear the jacket with it.” Raven spoke for the first time since walking in the door. Having lived with Billie for so long, she knew her clothes better than anyone.

  “Yes, I don’t have to wear a strapless bra with that one.” Billie shifted in her seat and Sandy put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ll help you out, honey.” Sandy tried to be a soothing effect on Billie.

  “The important thing is to make sure you don’t deviate from the norm. Don’t change how you normally dress; it could draw attention to you, and we want this night to be just like any other.”

  “Well, I normally change up what I wear as often as possible. I don’t think this will draw attention.”

  “Good. Okay, everyone knows what they are going to do, right? Just be cool, and do what you normally do. But Billie is to walk alone. Anyone with her might scare Franks off. We don’t want that. The police will be watching her all the time, and she will be wired. So, please, don’t interfere. We’ll take good care of your friend.” The detective sat as usual on the edge of the desk he had taken over with the perpetual cup of coffee to his lips.

  Neil cleared his throat. “I normally eat at Le Chez on Friday. Sam will be there too, as will String.”

  “I’ll be around,” Sandy chimed in with no indication of where she planned to be, “and Raven too.”

  Raven nodded.

  Billie couldn’t wait to get this over with.

  Chapter 42

  Friday finally came.

  Sandy planned to leave for home on Saturday morning and promised the kids one last swim in the ocean. Billie wouldn’t miss this for the world. It might be months before her friends came back.

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.” Billie brushed the sand from her toes and leaned back on her elbows watching the kids play in the water. They got along better now than when they first came to the island, and she realized she’d watched both grow up this summer. They had stayed for months instead of weeks because of her. Sandy—the best friend ever.

  “I never intended to stay this long, but I’m glad I did. We had time together. I had time with Mom, both houses got painted, Carol picked out her puppy.” Sandy rubbed her hand down the damp puppy that lay exhausted on the towel beside her. It had been playing in the water’s edge with the kids until just a moment ago. “I think the kids are getting along much better than when they first came, don’t you?” Sandy picked up the commuter cup with coffee and raised it too her lips, watching her son do handstands in the salty water.

  “I know. Do you think something in particular happened, or did they just grow up some?” A crab walked toward Billie, and then stopped looking up at the intruder. She sat on his beach.

  “I think part of it is that they were away from home, stuck together without other friends and the electronics. Jake had limited electronics, so he had to join the real world.” She waved at her daughter who held up the star fish with one hand and rubbed salt water from her eyes with the other.

  “You ready for tonight?” Sandy took another sip of coffee.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. I just want it over.”

  “Me too, girlfriend. The kids will be tucked into bed early tonight at Mom’s and I’ll be at Le Chez.”

  ****

  After a shower and something light to eat, Billie slipped into the black stretchy dress with wide straps. Raven was right, it might be better to wear a bra with straps; she was unsure how the wire fastened inside the bra. The long flowing shear jacket lay on the bed. She slipped it on. She could wear it with most of her dresses, and she reached in the closet for black pumps to sing in. She would carry them to work as usual. Picking up the black evening bag, she walked toward the front door and out onto the porch, closing the door. She needed this behind her.

  Raven had taken her pup home with her earlier in
the week. Billie began to feel badly for Lillie. Only one baby left. She wondered if dogs mourned the loss of their babies.

  The one little puppy crawled over his mom and tugged on her tail. After tonight, Billie would be more concerned with finding it a home. She leaned down to pet Lillie good bye.

  “Okay girl, I’m off to work. You and little bit stay here, and I’ll see you later, okay?” Lillie thumped her tail in agreement, and the pup jumped at her jacket as it flowed in the breeze.

  Billie slipped into her flip flops and stepped off the porch, heading to work.

  ****

  Franks rolled the rusted sedan off the ferry and slowly drove around the island. He had time on his hands. He knew she never finished until after eleven, and she said she would meet him at the post office at 11:30. That gave her time to finish and walk the short distance to the postal center where the islanders picked up their mail. Smart. The place well-lit and visible to the public. He wasn’t going to let her get away this time. The car dealership said they were interested in him, and he would not let this job get away, even if it killed him. His life needed to get back to normal. He’d done his time, and now if society would let him, he’d be a fine upstanding citizen once again.

  He drove past the mansion that sat on the water’s edge, and once again marveled that anyone would spend that much money on a house so close to the water. But the gardens were well tended. A woman in a faded dress and ragged sun hat worked pulling weeds as the sun went down. She looked up and waved. He waved back.

  The dock was well lit even though not quite dark. He guessed the winter Texans didn’t relish falling off the dock into the water at night. He watched a man climb out of a boat called Overboard and walk away down the dock. He paused to talk to a bum sitting with his fishing pole and dog by his side. More people with money.