Lindsey couldn’t even imagine a world where a famous actor like Robbie Vine was her boyfriend. A grin parted her lips, and she shook her head.
“I can’t even imagine it,” she said.
Sully studied her and then tipped his head to the side as he considered her words. “I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.”
And there they were. It had been two months since they shared a smooch under the mistletoe in a misguided moment of affection. Lindsey’s parents and her brother had been with her for the holidays, then the staff at the library had been hit with a nasty flu bug, keeping Lindsey chained to the building as she put in overtime covering the absences.
Other than the times Sully had surprised her by bringing her dinner to the library, she hadn’t seen much of him. Weeks had passed, and they were almost exactly where they had left off, except the memory of that kiss burned brightly between them, giving Lindsey hope while at the same time making her nervous.
“So, what do you really think about Evelyn Dewhurst?” she asked. Nerves were trumping hope, and she was desperate to change the conversation before they ended up in an analysis of where they stood with each other. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that just yet.
Besides, she suspected Sully had strong feelings on the issue of a wealthy woman buying up the islands in which he had spent his whole life and she wanted to know how he felt.
“Honestly? I’m not sure yet,” he said. “She says she’s buying them to preserve them, and the truth is some of them desperately need it and the people who owned them didn’t have the finances to save them so I have to consider that a good thing.”
“Has she approached your parents?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. He glanced at her and smiled. Lindsey knew his parents had lived on Bell Island for over forty years. She could just imagine how well Evelyn’s offer had been received. “She wants to buy the island from them and then let them rent their house from her. Suffice to say, they passed.”
Lindsey nodded. That was pretty much what she’d figured they’d do. Still, she was curious about Evelyn Dewhurst, and she made a mental note to research her as soon as she got back to the library.
They cleared the channel markers, and Sully opened up the throttle. Since Star Island was in a less treacherous area, Sully liked to go a bit faster and have a little more fun on the ride than he usually did navigating among the islands.
A seagull perched on a buoy watched as they sped by, churning up a frothy wake as they went. Lindsey sensed the bird didn’t approve, but she found she didn’t care.
The wind pulled at her long blond curls and tried its best to knock the hat off of her head. The salty spray of the sea danced up in the air, and the deep gray water looked bottomless when she glanced over the side.
It occurred to her that despite her fear of water over her head, she loved the feeling of speeding along the open water in a boat. It was liberating, being one with the elements, and she felt her spirits lift as Sully winked at her and sped up just a little bit more.
Lindsey was still savoring the intoxicating feeling of freedom when Star Island came into view and Sully began to slow down.
When Lindsey had started delivering books out to the islands, she had studied up on their histories. Star Island had been owned by the Rosen family for over one hundred years. It dated back to the heyday of the islands when the Thumb Islands were a summer playland for the wealthy, rivaling Newport, Rhode Island, in popularity. The archipelago had been a retreat for the prominent families of the time, including several U.S. presidents.
Originally, the islands had housed a wide variety of Victorian cottages, ornate in appearance and very exclusive. Sadly, the hurricane of nineteen thirty-eight had wiped out most of the original buildings. Only a few still remained, one of which was the Rosen house, primarily because it was fortunate enough to be blocked from a direct hit by the hurricane by several larger islands, which had sustained the worst of the storm.
As they approached the dock, Lindsey marveled at what a beauty the house must have been in its glory days. A multilevel house with ornate gingerbread wood trim decorating its eaves and wraparound porch, it boasted large arch-shaped windows on the upper story that looked out at the water like two expressive eyes. The building begged for fresh shingles and a snazzy paint job, but its inherent charm was still evident.
Since the Rosen brothers were decidedly elderly and one of them was in a wheelchair, Lindsey figured painting the house wasn’t on the top of their priority list.
In truth, it wasn’t just their age that kept them from working on their house. The Rosen brothers were known to be strange. With their hermit and hoarding tendencies run amok, Lindsey doubted they could handle any workmen on their residence, since they barely tolerated her. She suspected they only did because she brought them new books to read.
Sully cut the engine and gently banked the water taxi into the side of the dock while Lindsey scrambled out and tied up the boat. Sully retrieved her crate of books from the storage bin and joined her on the dock.
Lindsey straightened her back and glanced up at the deck where Stewart usually waited for her arrival. The wind was whipping across the water, and she supposed the cold had driven him inside. She knew he would be here in moments and that she should wait for him, as it had been made very clear to her when she had begun delivering books that she was never to leave the lower dock.
Sully stood beside her on the bobbing dock and glanced at the same spot on the deck above. There was still no sign of Stewart. He frowned.
“It doesn’t seem like Stewart to not be waiting, does it?” he asked. “He always sees the taxi coming and is down here before we pull up.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Lindsey admitted. “Maybe we caught him off guard. It’s not like I can let him know I’m coming given that he doesn’t have a phone or anything.”
“Maybe he’s busy taking care of Peter,” Sully said. “I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as he can.”
They stood patiently leaning side to side with the rocking wood under their feet. Lindsey’s crate sat between them on the boards.
“So, read any good books lately?” he asked.
Lindsey laughed. “Is that a librarian pickup line?”
“No, if it was a librarian pickup line, you would use it on me,” he said. “So, I guess it’s a sailor’s line to pick up the hot librarian.”
This time Lindsey laughed out loud. “I’ve heard worse.”
“Oh, do share,” he said. “I might need the material.”
“Okay, I once had a guy say, ‘Hey, beautiful, where can I get a card so I can check you out?’” Lindsey said, lowering her voice to sound more like a man.
Sully guffawed.
“Hey, it wasn’t that funny.” She punched him lightly on the arm.
“Please tell me the overactor did not use that on you,” he said.
“No, that gem is from my library school days,” she said. “Let’s see now. What’s a good line to pick up a sailor?”
“Oh, this should be duly awful,” he said.
Lindsey scanned her brain for good puns and then snapped her fingers, although the sound was muffled by her gloves. She lowered her voice again and said, “Hey, there, sailor boy, how about you drop anchor in my port?”
“You did not just say that,” he said, shaking his head, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Yep, yep, I did,” she said.
“Then you just got yourself a hot date,” he said.
The twinkle in his gaze made Lindsey’s heartbeat kick up a notch. She knew they were taking things slow, like snail pace slow, but right now she was darned if she could remember why.
She forced herself to look away before she evaporated from the heat sizzling between them. Sully had always had that effect on her, but it appeared to be getting worse.
She glanced at the deck above them and realized Stewart had not made an appearance yet. Given how protective the brothers were of their privacy, it was very odd. Sully followed her gaze, and his smile vanished and he looked concerned.
“Is it just me or does this feel wrong?” he asked.
“It’s not you,” Lindsey said. “Stewart should have been here by now.”
The small dock led up a winding staircase to a deck above. Stewart always waited on the upper deck.
“We could wait for him up there,” she suggested. “Maybe he didn’t see us coming.”
“Maybe,” Sully said. He hefted the books onto his shoulder and gestured for Lindsey to follow him.
With a sense of urgency that she couldn’t fully explain, Lindsey hurried after him across the dock and up the stairs to the deck above. The sight that met Lindsey’s eyes when she stepped onto the deck left her speechless. She had heard that the brothers collected all sorts of things, she’d gathered as much from the titles of the books they requested, but she’d had no idea it was this extreme. The deck was littered with odds and ends, and they had to pick their way to a space clear enough to stand.
Sully maneuvered around a rusted car engine, a shopping carriage full of flowerpots, several bicycle frames and a hand truck before finding a spot to put the crate down.
Lindsey stood beside him and glanced from the deck to the house, which was set back about fifty feet on the center of the island. A brick path was the only visible patch of ground between the deck and the house, as the small rocky yard on both sides hosted several steel sculptures that looked like windmills, as well as piles of old tires, shovels, some pruning shears, an old water pump and a fire hydrant—and that was just what her eyes could register at a glance.
Lindsey turned to look at Sully to see if he was having the same overwhelmed reaction that she was. He didn’t look surprised, so she guessed he had already known what they were stepping into.
“I had heard the Rosen brothers had a hoarding issue,” she said.
“Oh, it’s more than an issue,” he said. “I think we’re looking at a full-blown case of hoarder loco.”
“I had no idea,” she said. She glanced at the house. There was no sign of life in any of the windows. “Maybe they’re not home.”
Sully glanced back down at the dock. “Stewart’s boat is tied up right where it always is. It’s the only boat they own, so I don’t know where he’d be without it.”
“Should we go to the house?” she asked.
She knew she didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but if the deck and the yard looked like this, what could the house look like on the inside? She squashed a shiver of alarm. Barely.
“I think we have to,” he said. “Just to make sure they’re okay.”
“Agreed,” she said. “Although, standing out here and yelling for them until they answer has some merit, too.”
“Maybe I should go by myself,” he said. He gave her a worried look.
“Why?” she asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Well,” he drew out the word and Lindsey stared at him.
“Yes?”
“The brothers really don’t like visitors,” he said.
“I got that when they very clearly told me to wait on the dock below and not to come up to the house,” she said. “Now I can see why. The mess is unbelievable. How did they get all of this stuff up here?”
“Stewart has gathered most of it,” Sully said. “You’ve heard he takes his boat into shore at night and wanders around town, searching through everyone’s trash?”
“Yes, I’d heard, but I had no idea it meant . . .” Her voice trailed off. She had no words to describe what she was seeing with her own eyes. “I suppose I’d be afraid to let anyone see my home if it got into such a state.”
“Oh, they’re not embarrassed by it,” he said. “More like protective of it.”
Lindsey glanced around again, taking in a claw-foot bathtub, the cab of a pickup truck and a set of rusty golf clubs.
“Really?” she asked.
Sully nodded. “So much so that there are booby-traps all over the island.”
“What?” she asked. She moved to stand closer to him. “Where? What do they do?”
“A variety of things,” Sully said drily. “But from personal experience I can tell you that Stewart likes to have them explode sharp projectiles.”
He shifted the collar of his jacket and pointed to a scar on his neck that Lindsey had just assumed had been from his days in the Navy.
“What happened?” she asked.
He gave her a chagrined look and hoisted up her box of books.
“Step wherever I step and no place else,” he said.
He began to walk across the deck, and Lindsey followed, stepping exactly where he stepped just as he’d instructed.
“You’re not going to tell me?” she asked. “Oh, come on. You have to tell me. I will die of curiosity. Seriously, die. You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?”
He led the way down the stairs and paused at the bottom on the brick pathway to the house. He glanced back at her with an expression that could only be described as embarrassment.
“Fine, but you are now one of four people who know this story. Two of my buddies and I got curious, and we rowed out here to take a look at the place. We tied up our boat and climbed up the rocks on the other side. We had heard that visiting was discouraged, but we didn’t know how seriously.”
“What happened?”
“Stewart had a nail gun rigged to a pressure pad of sorts. I stepped right on it like a big dope and took a nail to the neck.”
Lindsey gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “You could have been killed.”
“Nah, it just grazed me,” Sully said. “My buddy took a nail in his arm, which hurt like a son of a—well, you get the idea.”
“Was he okay?”
“After sterilization and stitches, he was good to go.”
Lindsey glanced at the yard, marveling at the mess and wondering at anyone’s ability to feel anything but revulsion for the clutter and chaos. Her inner librarian was having small bouts of silent hysterics. “Good grief,” she muttered. “There’s so much junk.”
“True, but those steel windmills actually provide power to the house,” Sully said. “So, it’s not completely unutilized.”
She glanced at him in disbelief, and he shrugged.
“But, yeah, it’s pretty bad,” he said. “Just stay close to me and do not wander off the path and you should be fine.”
He started across the brick walkway, and Lindsey fell in behind him, trying to put her feet exactly where he put his. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until halfway across the yard when she started to feel her lungs burn. She sucked in a breath and kept going.
Sully paused in front of the porch stairs. Lindsey watched as he examined every bit of the handrails and the stairs. When he finally seemed satisfied, he cautiously put one foot on the first step and carefully stepped up. Lindsey waited until he got up the second step before she followed.
On the third step, Sully put his foot on the board and then took it away. He stepped on it again and it bowed under the weight of his foot. He stayed on the second step and turned to look at Lindsey.
“Don’t step on that one,” he said. “It’s been tampered with so that it will break under your weight and you’ll fall right through it. Who knows what you’d be falling into—a pit filled with snakes or a rusty spear, the possibilities are endless.”
Lindsey’s eyes went wide, and she watched, holding her breath again, as Sully stepped over the middle stair onto the step above. He didn’t fall through and managed to get up onto the porch without incident. She released her breath before navigating over the faulty step and joining him on the cluttered porch.
L
indsey’s gaze took in the waist-high piles of birdhouses, picture frames, vintage typewriters and a stack of suitcases. There were boxes on top of boxes of which she had no idea of the contents and really didn’t want to know. At this point she wouldn’t have been surprised to find a box of shrunken heads.
She watched Sully as he put down her crate of books and rubbed the back of his neck as if the sheer piles of stuff caused his back to hurt.
Lindsey glanced at the front door. Like the rest of the house, its paint was peeling. The glass window built into the door had aluminum foil over it, making it impossible to see in. She looked for a doorbell or a knocker, but there was nothing but a captain’s bell hanging by the front door.
“Do you think that’s a trap?” she asked, pointing to the bell.
Sully cautiously stepped closer to examine it. He gave it a test tap, not enough to ring it, just enough to move it. Nothing happened.
“I think it’s okay, but just to be on the safe side, duck down, okay?”
“What about you?” she asked.
“No worries. I’ve got this,” he said.
He picked up a broom handle that looked to have long since lost its broom part. He hunkered down beside Lindsey and threw his arm over her shoulders, covering her from any harm. Then he reached up and smacked the bell.
It clanged repeatedly as the clapper struck the sides and the bell swung back and forth. Lindsey tensed waiting for the door to open, for someone to call out, for something to happen. The bell slowly stopped clanging, but no one answered the door.
“At least an axe didn’t swoop down to lop off our heads,” he said.
“Yes, but now I’m even more worried,” she said. “There is no way they didn’t hear that.”
“Me, too. Let’s try the door.”
Sully moved in front of the door. He lifted the mat and ran his fingers over the doorframe. He checked the doorknob. It was locked.
Lindsey glanced around the littered porch. If the brothers kept a key out here, it could be tucked into any of the hundreds of items crowding the porch for breathing room.
A Likely Story: A Library Lover's Mystery Page 3