by Janie Brians
She acquired a position in the very large and well-supported Freeport Public Library. She had spent many hours huddled in a corner of that place as a child and, as an adult she loved working there. There were six of them on staff. Two older women volunteered their time. One other woman who was closer to Anne's age, and two men, were the others who were employed there full-time. Mr. Upton Sinclair was on the Supervisory Board and appeared at the library only occasionally. John Phillips was a man in his early twenties. He worked there to care for his living expenses but had informed Anne that his chief aim in life was to find a buried treasure that he was sure still existed somewhere nearby. Anne enjoyed swapping stories with him of the history of the islands. So the five years that she had been working there had gone by quite happily. At twenty-six, nine years since Kate's death, she no longer felt those questions plaguing her mind. At least not most of the time.
Lizzie, meanwhile, had become quite helpful to Uncle Malcolm. Through her association with him and her own voracious appetite to learn, her knowledge of the history of the islands had grown considerably. That, coupled with her exceptional secretarial skills had made her quite valuable to him and realizing that he needed help, he offered her a position as his assistant. She loved her work and had been quite happy working there during those last four years.
About two years before, Ed and Darlene decided to move to Nassau. They had heard of a lovely old house on the quieter end of Montague Beach that was up for sale. They bought it and in a year's time had done some renovations and turned the six-bedroom, three-bath house into a very pretty and quite lucrative Bed'n'Breakfast on the beach. During the year that followed, they developed a good clientele of visitors from the U.S., Canada, and as far away as England. Soon Ed informed the company he'd been flying for that they should find another pilot. From then on he spent his full time as host with his wife of the Montague Cottage Bed'n'Breakfast Establishment.
Back in Freeport, before their parents had moved to Nassau, Anne and Lizzie found an apartment near Xanadu Beach. Though it wasn't right on the beach, it was just a walk away and many an evening after the girls got home from work and had dinner, they would take a walk on the beach just as they had done as children. Sometimes Kate's name would come up. In some ways that whole episode seemed so long ago. Other times it would seem like just yesterday that the three of them would go for walks together on their treasure hunts.
"Who do you suppose her boyfriend was, Annie?" Lizzie asked one day as they sat on the sand watching the sun dip into the Atlantic.
"Who's boyfriend?"
"Kate's."
"I didn't know you knew about that. I don't think I ever mentioned it to anybody. She made me promise not to."
"Well, Annie, it stands to reason that if she was pregnant there had to be a boyfriend."
"Wait a minute Lizzie. I KNOW I've never said anything to you about that. How'd you find out? It was supposed to be so hush-hush in the beginning and then after a while it just didn't
seem important anymore so I never mentioned it...not to anybody. Only mom and dad knew."
"Mom must've told me. I don't really remember when I heard about it, I just know that I've known it for a long time. I assumed you knew that I knew about it ...oh well...so getting back to my question...who do you think her boyfriend was? any ideas?"
"Not a clue. All she ever said about him was that he was a "real man".
"Seems like he was a "real coward" to me."
"Yeah, who knows, he's probably married with three kids by now and can barely remember Kate. She must've been out of her mind with worry that day. She probably wasn't even paying attention to where she was. We always knew that curve was dangerous and should have a guardrail."
"Well it does now." Lizzie said dryly.
"Right. That’s like closing the barn door after the horse gets out." Anne said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.
The sky glowed orange in the light of the setting sun. As they walked back to the apartment, each girl became lost in her own memories.
It rained all day the next day. Whenever that happened in Freeport, it wasn't long before the roads were flooded. The parking lots were usually converted into lakes in a couple of hours. For her lunch break, Anne decided to go to Marcelli's. It was just a block away from the library and served the best Caesar salad and garlic rolls in town. She tried to find a dry or at least semi-dry parking place but was unsuccessful so she parked her little Karmann Ghia as close to the building as she could and, taking off her shoes, waded through the water to the entrance. She was halfway there when someone ran up beside her to share his umbrella. “You never have an umbrella when you need one.” Paul teased her. She laughed. He was right. It seemed that ever since the day she fell and sprained her ankle and they’d all been drenched in that storm, she was doomed to be caught without an umbrella during a rainstorm. The two friends entered the restaurant and while Paul shook out his umbrella, she put her shoes back on.
"You by yourself today, Annie?" he asked.
"Yes. You?"
"Yep," and turning to the maitre'd he said, "table for two, please."
"How's your dad doing these days?" Anne asked as they were being seated.
"He's recuperating well, thanks. It was really scary there in the beginning, but he's completely out of danger now...I hope. The doctor thinks he'll be able to leave the hospital next week."
"Oh I'm so relieved to hear that, Pauly. I know your coming back to help with the store really meant a lot to him and your mom."
At twenty-three he had left a lucrative job offer as head of research and design at a major car manufacturer in Detroit. He was somewhat of a genius in the field of technical engineering and had graduated with highest honors from a school in Michigan. He had always remained close to his parents.
"There are some things more important than high-paying jobs, and as far as I'm concerned, my parents are on the top of that list."
"Right up there with Melanie, I'll bet." She teased him about his latest girlfriend, Melanie Bryson, an English teacher at Freeport High School.
"The three most important people in my life, along with you and Lizzie, of course." he smiled.
Over the years, he had remained a close friend. Even during the four years he'd been away at school he'd written them often. Then he'd graduated and immediately been offered a job. He'd worked there only a short time, when his father had fallen dangerously ill. Feeling a deep responsibility to his parents and even though they had not asked him to, he returned to the island and ran the business for them, giving them the emotional support they needed to get through. Paul's expression changed and he looked puzzled as he said," I just don't understand what it was that made dad so ill. The doctor says that it could have been some kind of poisonous something or other, but he's not sure. If it was, it left no traces anywhere in dad's body. It's just so strange."
"Does he remember eating or drinking anything different? Anything that had an unusual taste?" Anne asked.
"Well, whenever I try to bring it up, he gets irritated and says he doesn't want to talk about it. He just wants to forget the whole thing."
"Just give him time, Pauly. He came very close to dying. I can't blame him for not wanting to talk about it yet."
the window.
"You can't help but wonder what?" Anne prompted.
He looked at her for a few seconds and then, as if coming to decision he said, "I haven't said this to anyone yet. You're the first person I'm telling this to so keep it under your hat, okay?"
"Sure, Pauly." Anne was intrigued.
"Since I've been back and running the store for the folks, I've seen that they're in somewhat of a financial pickle. Somehow they'd really gotten into debt and I think..." he hesitated to continue.
"You think what?"
"I think that my dad may have borrowed from the...the Biali family." The Biali family was one of the richest and largest families in Miami Beach and had many financial interests in Freeport.
They ran the Casino and it was rumored that they were connected to the mob. Borrowing money from them was a dangerous thing to do and Anne knew that Paul's dad must have been pretty desperate to have done that.
"But why, Pauly? If he had needed help financially, why wouldn't he have just gone to the bank. He's a very respected businessman here. I don't think he'd have had any trouble."
"I don't know. It's just that a couple of days before I arrived, a very sizable deposit showed up in their account. Where in the world could they get their hands on that kind of money so quickly? I know for a fact that they haven't applied to the bank for any kind of loan so...I'd hate to think...well, people have been known to do crazy things if they're desperate, you know. And if they did owe those people money and didn't pay it back quickly enough...well, it wouldn't be beyond them to do something to warn dad, or should I say, to 'encourage' him to pay. I hate even thinking about it!"
Anne also hated thinking that things like this could be going on in her hometown. She'd always felt removed from the violence she'd seen on news reports from the states. Her little island home had always seemed peaceful and secure. Now, though, it was becoming more evident that crime and its shadow violence were beginning to disturb the serenity here too. "It's just not like my folks to be so...so secretive about something," he finished a little sadly. The lunch hour flew by and it was time for them both to head back to work. The rain was still coming down steadily.
"Much more of this and the island's going to disappear." Paul joked "I think my little car already has," Anne said as she pulled her car keys from her purse and looked toward her car. "Ah, what do you know , its still right where I left it and I didn't even have to drop anchor."
She took off her shoes and Paul again shared his umbrella while they tip-toed through the puddles to her car.
"Thanks," she said as she got into her car. "You and Melanie need to come by the apartment some evening for drinks, okay?"
"Sounds great, we'd love to. There's one condition though."
"What's that?”
"You have to promise not to call me Pauly in front of Melanie. You and Lizzie are the only ones I still let get away with that." he smiled.
Anne chuckled and said, "Deal. How about Friday night?"
"Sounds good to me. I'll check with Melanie and give you a call to confirm it, okay?"
"Great. Give my love to your folks. Bye!" "Will do, bye." and off he ran to his Volvo.
That afternoon was one of those rare occasions when, because of the rain, there wasn't much activity in the library and Anne actually got the opportunity to do some reading herself. Jane, the part-timer, had come in to work at noon and since she was minding the front desk, Anne stole away to a corner of the library with a book and presently got lost in its story. She was at a very suspenseful part when, without a sound, a hand was placed firmly on her shoulder making her jump and nearly scream out.
"Hey there, gal. Gotcha again." Chris Dean came around to face her, chuckling to himself.
"I should have known," she said dryly.
Ever since they were kids, Chris's role in the group had always been tormentor and general nuisance. When Winnie died five years ago, he seemed to have floundered for a while getting involved with some of the less savory characters on the island. Because the islands were so close to the U.S., they were becoming drop-off points for drugs coming up from South America. At times, folks who owned speed boats were approached and offered big money for the use of their boat. Some had the strength of their convictions and declined, while others, of course, allowed themselves to be sucked into the business so that even if they later regretted their mistake, they were at risk if they tried to get out of it.
A year after Winnie died, Chris managed to buy a boat and started out using it for diving charters. But he complained that business was slow and he wasn't making ends meet. Since he was a proficient diver, he was offered a job as a commercial diver and part of his job included cleaning the barnacles off the undersides of oil-tankers while they were docked at the oil refinery there. Freeport had a large oil refinery and after the tankers off-loaded their oil, they sat shallow enough in the water for the divers to do their job. It was hard, physical work since some oil-tankers are the size of three football fields. But the pay made it worthwhile. Chris had seemed finally to find his niche in a very well-paying, and challenging job. He married his high-school sweetheart and in a couple of years was the father of twin girls. He and his wife Marissa bought a large home in Bahama Terrace and seemed to have a happy life together. But whether it was because of pressures at work or at home, Chris began to lose his way again. The drinking that he'd given up began to surface again and then according to Marissa, he began staying out all night. And it was strange that, despite the fact that he eventually lost his commercial diving job,
he always had plenty of money with him. So though none of. his friends wanted to believe it, they
all suspicioned that he was involved in smuggling drugs. Marissa never admitted whether or not she
knew what he was doing, but six months later she took the two girls and went back to live
with her parents in Eluthera. Chris seemed hurt by that, at first, but not enough to make any changes and so he just continued his way of life. Although Anne, Lizzie and Paul spent time with him now and again, he kept his distance, most of the time keeping to his newer circle of friends. It had been at least a month since the girls had last seen him, so Anne was glad for his visit. She and Lizzie still hoped that he would come to realize what he was throwing away - a wife who still loved him and two adorable daughters who needed their daddy.
"So what brings you here on this miserable afternoon?" She asked him.
"Well, believe it or not, I need a couple of books."
"What kind?"
"I need something that explains about famous works of art as well as not so famous works of art. Something like a catalog. Do you have something along those lines?"
"Sure. We have several beautiful books like that."
"Great. I also need info on Venezuela, Colombia and Mexico. What have you got on that?"
"Plenty. Thinking of moving south?" she teased as she headed for the bookshelves.
"Very funny...No....just curious...and today is a perfect day for reading, don't you think?" he teased back.
"Sure...provided you don't have friends sneaking up behind you and scaring you to death." Anne helped him find the books he wanted and then he went to a table and proceeded to pore over them for the next three hours. Anne thought he seemed more than just casually interested but you could never really tell with Chris. On his way out he winked at Anne and said to say hello to Lizzie.
That evening after work, Lizzie and Anne were having dinner in front of the T.V. when the phone rang.
Lizzie answered, "Hello....oh, hi Pauly, how's it going?.....we're just having dinner....you
can?....great....okay, I'll tell her....see you then....thanks for calling, bye," and she hung up the phone.
"That was Pauly calling to confirm Friday night. They'll be here around seven-thirty."
"Good. I thought we could make some drinks and nachos, okay?"
"Sounds good. We've got that good tequila that Malcolm brought back for us."
"I forgot to tell you, I saw Chris this afternoon. He said to say hello to you."
"Haven't seen him for awhile. What's he up to these days?"
"Who knows...he came into the library looking for info on works of art."
"Art? Chris interested in great works of art? That's a new one." Lizzie laughed.
Just as she said those words, a news clip came on the T.V. about the theft of several priceless works of art from the national museum in Caracas, Venezuela. The reporter continued:
"This is the third time in as many years that, despite electronic security systems, thieves have successfully penetrated a museum and absconded with several million dollars worth of art and historical artifacts. The two previous thefts occurred in
Lisbon, Portugal two years ago, and the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. last year. Authorities have revealed that these thefts may be the work of an international ring of thieves who later sell their goods to unscrupulous collectors ."
"What Annie? Why do you have that look on your face?" Lizzie asked her sister.
“Wouldn't it be something if Chris was involved in that!"
"Okay, Annie, you can come back to the real world now," she said as she headed for the kitchen.
Following her, Anne speculated wildly, "No, wait a minute. Just think about it. He disappears for over a month and then returns and is suddenly interested in information about priceless works of art. He could be up to something."
"But you're talking about Chris, not some stranger! We may not like what he's done with his life recently, but I can't believe he'd be involved in something like that!"
"Lizzie, we all pretty much suspect him of having dealings with drug smugglers. What
could be worse than that?" Anne said pragmatically.
" 'Suspect' being the key word there. We don't really know anything for sure, Annie." "Well, it just seems like too much of a coincidence to me," Anne said, enjoying the sense of mystery.
Friday evening came and Anne had just finished cleaning the apartment and wondering what was keeping Lizzie, when the doorbell rang. It was Paul and Melanie.