by Edie Claire
He poked the man next to him, a local policeman, and mumbled something without ever removing his eyes from Leigh. Then, with a queer expression that was not quite a smile, he began to walk towards her.
Leigh was flummoxed. She ran his face through a mental inventory, but her brain kept coming up blank. She was sure she had never met him, in Texas or anywhere else. He was an exceedingly good-looking specimen. The kind any woman was unlikely to forget.
So what the hell did he want with her?
He walked straight over, but waited to speak until he was standing quite close. “Hey there,” he said in a friendly, albeit tentative voice. He waited for her to respond.
“Hello,” she said stupidly.
He paused another moment, watching her as if waiting for her to say something else. Leigh stared back at him.
“Um… you having a good time in Port Mesten?” he asked.
“So far. I just got here last night,” Leigh said automatically, then regretted offering the information. Who was this guy? He had neither introduced himself nor expected her to. It was as if he already knew who she was. She frowned a little.
He noticed. “Well, I don’t mean to bother you,” he said pleasantly, stepping back. “Just thought I’d say hello. You, uh… you have a nice time, you hear?”
“Sure thing,” Leigh agreed, playing along. The man turned around. As he began to walk back the way he had come, he threw a perfunctory wave over his shoulder. “See you soon.”
Leigh had no response to that. She whirled away from him and resumed her beach trek, keeping her eyes on the sand in front of her.
What the heck? If she were ten years younger, twenty pounds lighter, and a whole lot sexier, she might think the man was hitting on her. But that was utter nonsense. So what could he possibly want? Had he mistaken her for someone else?
She tried out a few scenarios in her head, but no matter what kind of backstory she made up for two people having such an encounter, the conversation was still weird. He seemed to have expected her to say something, or to tell him something. But when she hadn’t, he didn’t get mad. Instead, he acted almost… well, like he’d done something wrong himself.
Had he realized at some point that he had the wrong woman? If so, why did he say he would see her again?
Forget about it. You’re on vacay!
Leigh’s eyes caught sight of another shell fragment with the funky giraffe-spotted pattern, and she tucked it into her jacket pocket. She’d never seen such shells. Perhaps they were unusual? She would ask Hap about them later.
By the time she had enjoyed a leisurely stroll to the end of the pier, walked back into town, checked out some artsy stores and some not-so-artsy stores, and had a delicious fish taco for lunch, the incident with Mr. Handsome was forgotten. She indulged in a dish of salted caramel ice cream, then, as penance, plodded over a mile along the main highway to reach a local nature preserve that her map claimed would have alligators.
The temperature had climbed well into the seventies, and Leigh’s jacket was now tied around her waist. She reveled in every second of the sun and was delighted when the shadow of a tan became visible around her watchstrap. But after the long walk along the highway, she was equally delighted to spend a few minutes resting on a bench under the canopy of some shade trees at the entrance to the preserve.
She pulled out her water bottle and took a swig. She had been in beach towns before, but Port Mesten in the middle of winter had a vibe she hadn’t encountered before. For starters, she was one of the youngest people around; most of the tourists seemed to be retirees. Second, listening to the accents of those tourists, she would guess she was in the upper plains rather than Texas. And third, she’d never in her life been any place where so many people wore binoculars around their necks, including the cheap seats at the old Three Rivers Stadium.
She watched with amusement as a group of tiny birds flitted about from branch to branch in the trees nearby. Two women with binocs glued to their eyeballs were following the birds everywhere they went. One woman had nearly walked into a tree trunk in the process, and the other had actually banged her knee on a fencepost, but they remained undeterred. Leigh could only wonder what they sought to accomplish.
Once sufficiently cooled down, she followed the trail past the trees where it changed into a wooden boardwalk that led out over a wetland. The brackish water was several feet deep with a maze of tall marsh grasses weaving through it, and Leigh was glad that the elevated boardwalk kept her feet clear of any lurking alligators. The wetland was alive with birds of all kinds: ducks and herons and giant white things that looked like pelicans, and although Leigh was no birdwatcher, even she could appreciate their sheer abundance and variety. She reached an observation tower and climbed its wooden stairs. From the top, she should be able to see the whole wetlands, maybe even catch a glimpse of those elusive gators.
The wind was blowing briskly at the top of the platform, but she wasn’t in the least bit cold. Less than twenty-four hours in Texas, she thought with a grin, and already the bitter Pittsburgh winter seemed like another world. She watched with awe as several giant white birds swooped down at the far edge of the wetlands and landed on the water of an even broader, deeper-looking pond. “What are those exactly?” she asked the woman standing beside her, who was watching the same birds with an impressively large pair of binoculars.
“American white pelicans,” the woman answered pedantically.
Leigh nodded, feeling ignorant. She supposed she could have guessed that. But the woman seemed happy to have been asked. “Have you seen any alligators?”
“Yes,” came the delighted answer. “At least I did just a minute ago. Let me see…” The woman readjusted her binoculars in another direction. “There he is! He’s poking his head out of the little round pond, just to the right of the entrance. If you follow that tallest tree straight down and over to the right, you’ll see him.” She pulled the strap from around her neck and offered Leigh the complicated-looking device.
“Thanks,” Leigh replied. She raised the binoculars to her own eyes, but following the directions was harder than it seemed. She found herself looking at a blur she was guessing was a car in the parking lot.
“You can adjust the focus if you need to,” the woman suggested.
Leigh turned the dial on top until the blob turned into a red Nissan. She began moving her field of vision slowly to the right, hoping to find the tall tree and then move down to the pond.
She stopped.
Khaki shorts. Turquoise polo. Sunglasses. Light brown hair.
Holy hell. It was him again. Mr. Handsome from the beach, now loitering at the preserve. Leaning casually against a Porsche with his arms crossed over his chest. Doing nothing in particular.
“Do you see him?” the woman asked, referring to the alligator.
“No,” Leigh mumbled.
The man didn’t move. But every few seconds, he glanced up in the direction of the entrance. From where he stood, Leigh was guessing that he could see people preparing to exit as they stepped off the boardwalk. People who, at that angle, would be unlikely to notice him.
He was waiting for someone.
“I think you’re looking too far to the left,” the woman advised.
Leigh swung the binoculars out over the trees and down. Now she saw water. Blurry water. Her heart beat fast.
“Any luck?” the woman asked hopefully.
Leigh pulled the binoculars down and returned them. “I’m afraid I’m not very good with these things. But thanks anyway. I’ll walk down closer and look from there.”
She would not jump to conclusions. She would not.
“I am feeling lucky today, actually,” Leigh insisted.
Because I am not involved.
Chapter 3
Leigh did keep searching for the alligator. But her heart wasn’t in it. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man lurking in the parking lot. Knowing he was out there and not knowing if his presence had anything
to do with her own presence made her nervous. And the fact that she was nervous annoyed her.
When she realized her teeth had started to gnash, she decided to confront the man and get it over with. But when she emerged into the parking lot, he was no longer in his hiding spot. His Porsche hadn’t moved, but of the man himself there was no sign.
There you go, she assured herself. He must have been waiting to meet someone. They had left together in another car, perhaps.
With a breath of relief, she reopened her map and searched out a likely spot for another snack. The fish taco had been low-cal, right? Something fruity and icy would be nice. She was halfway back down the long, hot road beside the refuge when the unwelcome thought occurred to her.
What if Mr. Handsome had seen her coming, and had been hunkered down inside his car?
Leigh beat back a shudder. She looked over her shoulder instead and studied the highway. The Porsche was nowhere in sight. But, as slow as she was moving, anyone in a car could keep tabs on her with only a periodic check-in. Her teeth began to grind again. This situation was not acceptable.
She considered her options for another quarter mile, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder every other second, until she reached her mark: a chain hotel, one of the nicer ones on the island. It was no luxury resort, but it was the kind of place she and Warren might stay if the kids were with them. Perfect.
She wandered to the outdoor pool and leaned over the fence, trying to act as if she were communicating with someone inside. After a few moments, she swung her backpack off her shoulders and started digging around inside it as if looking for a key, then she walked from the pool into a side entrance of the hotel.
So there.
One trip to the vending machines, one diet cola, and half a frozen Snickers bar later, Leigh reemerged from a side-street exit, looked around carefully, and began walking again. She continued on a parallel course for several more blocks before making her way back to the beach, where she plopped down on the sand and finished off the melting Snickers. The sun was shining, she was gloriously warm, and whether Mr. Handsome had represented actual risk or paranoid delusion gradually ceased to matter. Either way, she’d lost the guy.
She had nearly dozed off with her head on her backpack when she heard footsteps crunching in the dune grass behind her. She raised up on her elbows and looked through the brush.
A gray-haired couple dressed in matching blue jogging suits were walking side by side, very slowly and carefully, on tiptoe. They had binoculars where their eyes should be. “Has it got a mottled breast?” the woman whispered.
“Shhh!” the man hissed.
Leigh laid her head back down on her backpack. More birders. They were harmless. At least she supposed they were. Even if they did look like technicolor lions stalking the Serengeti.
“Oh, it’s just a house sparrow!” the woman announced with annoyance.
The man swore. “Well, we’ll never know now, will we? Can’t you keep quiet?”
“I don’t need to keep quiet when I can see it’s just a house sparrow!” the woman fired back.
The man grumbled again. “Well, I don’t think there are any seasides over here, then. Let’s go back over the other way.”
The woman let out a shriek, then muffled it. Leigh startled at the noise, but seeing nothing hazardous in the immediate area, laid her head back down. She was entirely too comfortable to move.
“Good Lord, Bets, what is it?” the man asked irritably.
“I thought that was a body!” the woman squeaked.
Oh. Leigh felt herself shrink with embarrassment. Sheesh. Were her legs really that pale?
“For Pete’s sake,” the man groused. “The feet moved, didn’t they? You’re seeing bodies everywhere!”
Leigh considered informing the couple that she was not deaf. But she kept quiet, deciding that she and her corpselike legs would be better off remaining anonymous.
“Well, I can’t help it!” the woman whined. “The very thought of it gives me nightmares. To think the poor man was wearing a business suit and a tie! Now how could that have happened? You know he had to have been murdered!”
Leigh tensed. Must the woman use that word?
“I don’t know anything about it, and neither do you,” the man snapped. “You read too many novels. Guy probably just jumped off a bridge somewhere. Hey, is that a kestrel?”
“There are no bridges over the open ocean!” the woman argued. “Yes, of course it’s a kestrel. And I do know something about it. I know what that woman in the breakfast room said about overhearing the police say he was a businessman. Now, how many businesspeople in suits do you see wandering around a tourist town like this? Piffle. I say it was a mob hit. Guy got whacked in the city and somebody hauled his body down here and dumped it off the side of a boat. That’s what happened!”
“Okay, fine, that’s what happened,” the man answered, sounding bored. “Look! There’s another sparrow!”
“Does it have a mottled breast?” the woman demanded.
The couple crunched away through the grass again. Leigh stayed where she was until their voices had moved out of range, then she rose stiffly. Her peaceful spot didn’t seem so peaceful anymore.
A businessman in a suit? With a tie? Really?
She told herself not to think about it.
She roamed aimlessly on the beach a while longer, collecting more shells and enjoying the constant churning sound of the waves, but she was hopelessly drowsy now and suspected she was sunburned besides. When she could no longer control her yawns, she headed back to the Silver King Hotel, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed across the comfy queen-sized bed. Just a short nap, she thought with contentment. Then she’d take a shower and freshen up before dinner.
She drifted off and must have slept deeply, because the voices that jolted her back to awareness seemed to pop up out of nowhere, with no prelude of footsteps or creaking doors.
“What are you doing here?”
“Why shouldn’t I be here?”
“Because I told you to stay away!”
“You don’t rule the world.”
Leigh’s eyes opened. The last speaker was a woman, and she was arguing with a man. Leigh had been in plenty of hotels where she’d heard raised voices in the room next door, but “raised voices” was usually the extent of what one could hear. Being able to understand every word was disconcerting, particularly since these two weren’t talking all that loudly.
Leigh raised her head and confirmed that her own door was closed. There was no adjoining door between her room and the next, but the thin plank walls carried sound unfortunately well.
“I promised you I would take care of it. You don’t have to be here,” the man insisted.
“Says you,” the woman retorted.
Leigh laid her head back down. She really was sleepy.
“I’ll be watching you,” the man said matter-of-factly.
“Spare me,” the woman returned. “Maybe I’ll be watching you, too.”
The man made a disgruntled noise. “It’ll all be over soon enough.”
“Yes, it will, won’t it? Too soon. Thanks to you.”
“Don’t start!” the man said angrily. “It’s not my fault!”
Leigh’s eyes popped open again. The couple were talking in riddles. They also weren’t talking like a couple. Their tone held an unmistakable intimacy, yet there was a distinctive, acerbic bite to it that Leigh couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Dad put you in charge, didn’t he?” the woman snapped.
Bingo. They were siblings.
“I’m not getting into this with you, Sharonna!” the man retorted bitterly. “It is what it is. Deal with it. I’m only here to beg you not to make things worse with your damned drama. Can’t you just lay low and keep your stupid mouth shut for a few days? We’re each going to get our fair share, I promise you. Just like Mom and Dad wanted.”
“What they wanted?” Sharonna practically screamed. �
��You think this is what Dad wanted?”
“Will you shut up!” the man answered, his own voice now hushed.
Leigh listened for sounds of a struggle, but all she heard was the tinny sound of insincere female laughter. “You are so pathetically anal. Go away and leave me alone.”
Leigh heard a door open, but no footsteps moved out of it.
“Have you heard anything yet?” the man asked. His tone had changed altogether. He seemed to be almost pleading now.
The woman paused a beat. “No,” she answered, her own voice flippant. “But really, brother dear. After everything you’ve put me through, do you think I would tell you if I had?”
The man did not answer. The door slammed hard, and footsteps stomped away.
The woman in the room burst into a fit of giggles.
***
“I do believe this is the best flounder I’ve ever tasted,” Warren said sincerely, finishing the last bite off his bright green melamine plate with a look of contentment on his face.
Bev Taylor’s pink apple cheeks glowed. “Why, thank you, sir,” she said jauntily. “I’ll give Cortland’s Famous Fish Rub partial credit. The rest is all me.”
Leigh smiled. Broad and square, with a prominent midsection, Hap’s “new” wife of eight years was an almost comical version of himself, just shorter and female. She had the same slightly oversized head, friendly broad smile, light complexion, and dancing blue eyes. Mercifully, however, she did differ from her husband in that her head was crowned with a thick mop of frizzy blondish-gray hair.
“She’s a wizard,” Hap agreed, relaxing in his sling-back chair. The four of them were enjoying the evening outside, sitting on the patio beside the older couple’s fifth-wheel trailer. “You know it’s true as much as Cortland himself used to show up here for dinner!”