Island of Secrets

by Janni Nell

  Thankfully I wasn’t required to answer. We had reached the yacht. I climbed aboard, tugging the T-shirt down to cover my butt.

  “You’ve got some burns,” said Marina Man. “But so far as I can tell they’re superficial. I’ll have Marie take a look at you.” Before I could ask who Marie was, he added with a glint in his eye, “I guess I should introduce myself, since I’ve seen you naked and all. Dylan Wallis, native New Yorker, thirty-two, single.”

  When he offered his hand, I shook it, “Allegra Fairweather.” For now that’s all he needed to know. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  “My pleasure. Now let me call Marie to take a look at those burns.”

  Turned out the yacht was manned by a husband and wife team. Marie was shorter than me, as many women are. Her lean, sinewy body was covered by baggy shorts and an equally baggy T-shirt. Graying hair jutted an inch from her scalp. Her skin was leathered from years in the sun making her age impossible to guess. Her French accent had been overlaid with American, which I suspected was the language of most of her clients.

  “Let me take a look at those burns,” she said. We had gone inside to a seriously luxurious cabin. Dazzled by the gleaming wood and chrome, I pulled off the T-shirt. Marie studied my back. “Hmm. Not too bad.” With gentle fingers she applied cream to my skin, adding Band-Aids to the worst burns.

  While she worked, I asked, “How long have you known Dylan?”

  “A few days.”

  Great, so I wouldn’t learn much from her, but being an intrepid investigator I pressed on.

  “Guess it costs a lot for a yacht like this.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed as though she thought I was interested in Dylan for his money.

  “He doesn’t own the yacht. He’s a friend of the owner, who is happily married,” she added with unnecessary emphasis. “Luc and I have worked for the owner for ten years.” She didn’t mention the owner’s name. Probably thought I’d try and steal him from his wife.

  Marie and I lapsed into a cool silence. Not the relaxing cool of a mountain stream—more like a wind from the Arctic. In clipped tones, she offered me a change of clothes. Hers didn’t fit so I pulled on Dylan’s T-shirt and a pair of his shorts, which slipped down until I added a belt.

  When I returned on deck, Dylan was admiring the view. On a table nearby were two tall glasses and a pitcher of—no, it couldn’t be.

  He smiled. “Do you like piña coladas?”

  The drink was perfect. Maybe the best I’d ever had. Well, except for the one aboard Heavenly, but that doesn’t count since it was produced on a magic yacht.

  When I’d quenched my thirst, I asked, “What were you doing on Tikini Island? Didn’t you know about the cannibals?”

  “To answer your first question: I’m naturally adventurous. To answer your second: that’s why I brought the gun with me.” He glanced back at Tikini Island. “They’re a weird-looking tribe. You could almost believe they aren’t human, but I guess they just evolved differently, being isolated and all.”

  “I guess so.” No need to tell him they were goblins. He’d just think I was crazy. “Thanks again for rescuing me.”

  He grinned. “My actions were completely selfish. If I hadn’t saved you there’d be one less beautiful woman in the world.”

  For the record, I’m not beautiful. My naturally red hair makes me look kinda quirky and my body is athletic rather than hourglass. I was tempted to tell Dylan that I didn’t look as beautiful as he did, but why give the guy a big head.

  “Look, I know you’re probably not feeling great right now,” said Dylan, “but maybe sometime we could get together for a meal.”

  He was right about me not feeling great, but it had more to do with Casper’s failure to rescue me than my minor injuries. “Actually I’m feeling fine. I’d love to get together. Would tonight be too soon?” Take that, Casper.

  Dylan smiled. “Great. How about a picnic? We can watch the sun set over the water.”

  I must’ve been a bit dazed—either from Dylan’s company or my near-death experience—because I gave him my cell phone number, totally forgetting that the phone was now in the possession of King Kanu.

  When Dylan dropped me at Lu’arna Island, I headed straight for Oak’s office to report on what I’d discovered.

  * * *

  Oak took one look at me and flicked off his computer screen. “You look like shit. Whiskey?” As he handed me the glass, he sniffed suspiciously. “You smell like a forest fire.”

  “The Tikini-kai invited me to dinner. I declined.”

  “Glad you survived.” Oak had known I was going to Tikini Island and the risk involved. He’d even offered me danger money, which I’d happily accepted. Leaning back in his chair, he waited for my report.

  I gave him the Tikini-kai’s version of the story of Princess Melani, and the theft of her dowry and the Star of Light. “Of course, goblins aren’t known for their honesty,” I added. “I’ll need to speak to the mers before I draw any firm conclusions.”

  Oak pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is it possible to draw firm conclusions after all this time? There are no living witnesses. Even if there were, hey, I’m betting the mers wouldn’t admit their ancestors were thieves. What do you hope to achieve?”

  “Exactly what you hired me to do. I’ve already discovered the Tikini-kai are killing the mers. Now I have to stop them, and that means discovering how each side believes the war started and working out a plan for peace.”

  “You think you can do that?”

  Instead of admitting I didn’t have a clue, I said, “The first step is to get the mers’ version of events.”

  “Do you speak their language?”

  I admitted I didn’t, but added that I was sure I could find someone who did. “I’ll make some calls.” That’s when I remembered the Tikini-kai had my phone. By now it was probably hanging on the wall in King Kanu’s palace.

  “I lost my cell,” I said.

  “No problem.” Oak opened a cupboard full of electronic boys’ toys, selected a phone and tossed it to me. “All yours. Make those calls. Find someone who speaks mer.”

  Chapter Five

  I began my search for a Mer translator by calling Scarlett Gordon, a Scottish woman I knew from a previous case. I’d saved her boyfriend’s sister from the clutches of a nasty aristocrat, so Scarlett kind of owed me, and, since her boyfriend, Harq, was a selkie, I figured he might speak Mer.

  When she answered her phone, she was more interested in whining about the time difference than answering my questions. “Do you realize it’s bloody 3 a.m.?”

  I apologized for waking her. “Sorry, Scarlett. Should’ve checked the time zones.”

  “Are you back in San Diego?”

  “I’m on an island near Tahiti.” Where it was late afternoon not the middle of the night. “Listen, Scarlett, sorry about waking you, but I need to call in a favor.”

  “Och, you didn’t wake me. Harq’s here.”

  “Funny you should mention him.” I explained about needing a Mer translator. She told me to hang on while she spoke to Harq. In the background I heard them murmuring, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  When she came back on the line, she said, “He knows a selkie who speaks Atlantic Mer, but you need someone who speaks Pacific Mer and that’s a different language.”

  This time I was the one who whined and Scarlett was the one who apologized.

  Sucking it up, I said, “Thanks anyway.”

  “Drop by next time you’re in Scotland,” she invited, and we hung up.

  Moving on to Plan B, I called Wanda, making sure I checked the time first. It was just after ten at night in Massachusetts, but she didn’t pick up. After leaving a message telling her I was looking for a Mer translator, I raided the maxi-bar, grabbed a
soda and headed for the balcony.

  Casper was sitting in my favorite chair. He jumped to his feet when he saw me. Considering he hadn’t rescued me from the goblins, I expected him to look guilty and do some serious sucking up. But that didn’t happen. In fact, Casper looked pissed off. Well, that made two of us.

  I spoke first, covering my hurt with aggression. “I could’ve burned alive. Where the fuck were you?”

  “I was on my way,” said Casper. “You didn’t wait for me.”

  “Well, hello, I was being burned alive at the time.”

  “I wouldn’t have let you burn.”

  “Ha, easy to say now.”

  He actually looked hurt. “Why didn’t you trust me enough to wait?”

  Oh pul-ease, I was the injured party here. “Like I should say, ‘Hold on a minute, Dylan, my guardian angel should show up any minute. I’ll just stay here and roast until he appears’? I don’t think so. If you can’t step up to the plate, tough shit. I’m not going to burn to spare your ego.” I was too pissed off to remember angels aren’t governed by their egos.

  “I was on my way,” insisted Casper. “I got there just as that man discharged his rifle.”

  “That man? His name is Dylan.” Then, hands on hips, I demanded, “Why didn’t you show yourself?”

  “I wanted to help you escape. I hung back with the goblins and knocked many of them out cold.” He gave me a curious glance. “Didn’t you wonder why none of them caught up with you?”

  Actually I had wondered. Not that I’d had any doubts about Dylan’s ability to get rid of them. I mean, he did have a gun.

  “Maybe this hasn’t occurred to you, but you wouldn’t have had to knock out the goblins if you’d turned up before Dylan and flown me out of the clearing.” My confidence had been badly rattled. I’d become so used to relying on Casper that his failure to show up made me feel abandoned. Just like I’d felt when Dad failed to return from that trip to Australia all those years ago.

  All those emotions bubbled up inside me and tumbled out aimed at Casper. “Is that how your last morsub died? Did you fail to show up on time?”

  He flinched as though I’d struck him. I knew my words were cruel. Even worse, I knew they weren’t true. He’d tried to save the cop but there were just too many bullets. One of them was bound to hit her.

  “Skye,” he said softly. “Her name was Skye Carter. When she joined the force they nicknamed her Skye Blue. She never married, never had the chance to be a mom.” His shoulders drooped.

  I wanted to apologize, to hold him in my arms and tell him it was okay. But, hell, he’d let me down. I had nearly been his second failure.

  Hardening my heart, I said, “I want to apply for a new guardian angel.”

  “Understandable, but it’s me or nothing.”

  “Gee, tough choice. Apparently they amount to the same thing.”

  He could’ve repeated the fact that he’d stopped the goblins catching up with us, but all he said was, “I won’t let you down again.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I don’t—” A knock on the door of my cottage interrupted us. Dylan already? Automatically, I checked my watch, which was no longer on my wrist. The Tikini-kai had stolen it. Glancing at the clock beside the bed, I noted that it was an hour before my date with Dylan. Hoping he hadn’t arrived early, I said to Casper, “You’ll have to go. I’m meeting someone.”

  “Dylan.” He couldn’t quite stifle his groan.

  “What does that mean?”

  He refused to meet my eyes. “Dylan’s not right for you.”

  “I’ll decide who’s right for me, thanks very much.”

  “It’ll all end in tears,” he said. I wasn’t sure whether he meant his tears or mine. I’d have asked for an explanation, but Casper had already disappeared. He hadn’t even said good-bye.

  There was another knock on the door and I hurried to answer it. A woman stood there, forehead puckered in a frown. She was in her early forties, a little plump but still pretty. Long hair streaked with gray was plaited at the nape of her neck. Shorts and a tank top exposed olive skin and strong limbs.

  I didn’t even have a chance to say hello before she asked anxiously, “Have you found an earring? Like this.” She pointed to the little gold bell in her left ear. “I lose it when I clean your cottage this morning.”

  “And you are?”

  “Therese,” she mumbled, scanning the floor. “Vincent give me the earrings. They are very precious, no?”

  Oh right, so she was the wife of the gardener. Her job was cleaning Oak’s place and the guest cottages. She did a pretty good job too.

  “Are you sure you lost it here?” I hadn’t noticed an earring lying around.

  “I think so. Yes.”

  As we crawled around the floor searching for the gold bell, I realized I was wasting an opportunity to learn more about the staff of Lu’arna.

  “How long have you and Vincent been on the island?”

  “Six months. We come when this place was built. All the staff come then.”

  “Nobody’s resigned?”

  “Would you? This island is magnifique. And Mr. Forrest’s salaries are so generous. Vincent and I are very happy here.”

  “Do your children live on the island?” I hadn’t heard or seen any kids, but maybe they stayed inside playing computer games.

  “Our children are grown. They live in Tahiti. We have a grandbaby. We see him on our weekends off.”

  The mention of a baby had me temporarily abandoning the search and reaching for photos of Little Allegra. Therese reached for her own photos. We stopped searching while we oohed and aahed over the babies. Finally we put away the photos and got back to the hunt. We found the earring in my bathroom behind the little trash can under the vanity.

  Therese scooped it up, crossed herself and muttered what sounded like a prayer. After replacing the earring in her lobe, she hugged me. “Merci, merci. I knew an investigator could find my earring.”

  “Ssh. Oak doesn’t want anyone to know my profession.”

  Therese snorted. “On an island so small, you cannot keep the secret.” She grinned. “We know there are mermaids, but we do not tell outsiders.”

  Thinking I might have found my Mer translator, I asked, “Can you speak their language?”

  She looked at me as if I was crazy. “They cannot speak—not like us. They speak like—what is the word?—dolphin. And they are shy, no?”

  “Not so much shy as terrified of being captured and forced to do the talk show circuit,” I said drily.

  She nodded. “This is why we do not tell anyone. And you will keep the secret, of course.”

  When I made a zipping gesture across my lips, she seemed satisfied and trotted off with the golden bells swinging in her lobes.

  I had almost half an hour to get ready for my picnic with Dylan. Enough time to allow myself a long shower. There was no longer any need to keep my stitches dry. Since my submersion in the goblins’ marinade my wound had healed dramatically. Even the stitches had dissolved, which was odd since they weren’t dissolving stitches.

  After drying myself with the fluffiest towel in the known universe, I dressed in shorts and a loose top. I added a lick of mascara and lip gloss, and ran a brush through my hair. When I checked the time I was already late. As I hurried to the marina, I saw the aunts on their balcony, binoculars in hand. I waved at them and they waved back.

  I heard Evie say, “This one’s cuter than the blond.”

  “Oh no,” Lyn disagreed. “The blond is much cuter.”

  I hoped Dylan couldn’t hear them.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said as I reached the marina.

  Dylan smiled. “Glad you made it. I thought you were going to stand me up. I tried calling your phone, but all I got was some guy t
alking a foreign language.”

  Oh crap. King Kanu was taking my calls.

  * * *

  Dylan took me to a cute little cove on the western side of the island. He spread a blanket on the sand and we set about unpacking the hampers. There was cold seafood, three types of salad, crusty bread and cheese. He opened a chilled bottle of sauvignon blanc and filled our glasses.

  “How’re you feeling?” he asked. “Those burns not giving you too much trouble?”

  “Nah. I’m good. Thanks to you.” And no thanks to a certain angel, who won’t be mentioned or even thought about for the duration of this date.

  “So, at the risk of sounding cliché, tell me the Allegra Fairweather story.”

  “There isn’t much to tell.”

  He flashed that smile again, exposing the chipped tooth that marred his otherwise perfect face. “Okay, I’ll start. I’m the only child of older parents. They’ve retired to the Hamptons, which is great because I can drive up to see them on the weekends. I live and work in Manhattan. I’ve never been married although I lived with someone for a while. We parted amicably. My hobbies are skiing and shooting, obviously, and movies—my favorites are Inside Man and Pretty Woman.”

  “A chick flick?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  I could think of only one reason his favorite movie would be a romantic comedy. “Guess you must be a Julia Roberts fan.”

  “Nope. Not that there’s anything wrong with JR, but I’m more interested in Richard Gere’s character. When I grow up I want to be Edward Lewis.” He grinned and I wasn’t sure whether he was teasing me. Leaning back on one elbow, he lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “Okay, I’ve told you my darkest secret. Now it’s your turn.”

  “My favorite movie is Thelma and Louise, but I never watch the end. I have my own alternate ending, where Thelma and Louise make it to Mexico and live happily ever after on tequila and orgasms from guys who look like Brad Pitt.” Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the orgasms. Thankfully Dylan laughed.