by Jane Heller
“It’s all coming back to me now,” I said. “Listen, Helen, I’m planning to fly over to Nassau to get my sister out of there. You’re more plugged into things than I am. Do you know any hotels where I could stay?”
“No, but even if I did, they’d probably be booked up. It’s spring break.”
“Great.”
“Cheer up. I bet you could spend the night in one of those little guest houses they have down there. They’re usually kind of funky, but they’d suit your purpose, wouldn’t they?”
I thanked Helen and told her I’d call her when I got back.
Next up: BahamasAir. I got a seat on the 9:00 A.M. to Nassau out of Ft. Lauderdale. Of course, the airport limo I also had to book, thanks to the dead Pontiac, cost more than the plane fare, but what was I supposed to do? Swim to the Bahamas?
My final call of the night was to my mother. I hated to lie to her, but that’s exactly what I did. I told her that Ray and I had discovered that we were in love (she squealed with delight) and that I would be spending the next few days at his house because I couldn’t bear to be apart from him (she squealed again). I suggested that if she needed to reach me, she should leave a message on my answering machine and I’d be sure to call her back (she said she was thrilled that both her girls had finally found happiness). Yeah, right.
I threw some clothes into a suitcase, scarfed down a frozen yogurt, and went to bed. The second my head hit the pillow the phone rang. I decided to let the machine take the call. The volume was way up on the incoming message, so I could hear Ray’s voice telling me he wanted to explain.
What’s to explain? I thought as I yanked the phone cord out of the jack. He had a date with Holly while he had his hands all over me.
Men.
The BahamasAir 737 was crowded, but there were empty seats, I noticed as I boarded the plane. I was exhausted and had hoped to doze, but the flight only took forty-five minutes. Before I knew it, we were up, we were down, we were there.
I was standing at the exit to Nassau International Airport, about to hail a cab, when I spotted a familiar face rushing toward me.
“If you hadn’t been so unreasonable, we could have sat together on the plane,” said Ray, flushed and out of breath. “Not to mention, shared the cost of the limo to the airport.”
“What are you doing here?” I said, feigning anger but secretly pleased that he had followed me all the way to a foreign country. Very dramatic. I was especially pleased that Ray’s circles under his eyes were even darker than mine.
“I found out which flight you were on and packed my bag. I told you I was coming with you.”
He kissed me.
“Stop that,” I said.
He kissed me again.
“You heard me,” I said, trying to sound menacing.
He kissed me a third time.
I put my hands on my hips, exasperated, exhilarated. “In case you’re not aware of it, there’s such a thing as political correctness. In other words, when a woman says no she means no.”
“Fine. Say no and I’ll take the next flight home.”
“No.”
“No, as in, Don’t take the next flight home? Or no, as in, Don’t kiss me?”
“Oh, give me a break. You’re making me the villain here when you’re the one who’s been playing games. First you’re Mr. Platonic, the pal, the guy who’s afraid to share his innermost feelings, remember? Then you’re telling me I’m much more than a friend to you and coming onto me like some sex-starved prison inmate. And just when I’m falling for it, you’ve got another woman waiting on your doorstep. Why don’t you go play your games with Holly while I go save my sister.”
I started to walk away, but Ray grabbed the strap of my bag and pulled me back.
“Not so fast,” he said. “You led me to believe you didn’t want a relationship. All you talked about was Hirshon and what a two-timing jerk he was. I figured you weren’t interested in starting anything after that experience, so I didn’t push it. But then you told me about your plan to fly down here and I couldn’t let you do it alone. I knew you were special to me, right from the beginning, but I didn’t know how special until I realized I could lose you. That’s when it changed between us, when it got great between us. The only problem was, I forgot to cancel dinner with Holly. Is that a crime?”
“Not a crime, exactly, although Holly did look a little under-nourished, like she could use a good meal. Did you ever feed her, by the way?”
“Yes, I fed her. And while we were eating, I explained about you. About you and me.”
“What about you and me?”
“That we’re going steady.”
“Please.”
“I’m serious, Deborah. I want us to take our friendship to the next level. I think I’m in love with you.”
“But you’re not sure.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant—God, you’re tough.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I’ve been through this before. I’m not the innocent lamb I once was.”
“And I’m not the big bad wolf.”
“No? There was a time in the not-too-distant past when I thought maybe you killed Jeffrey. Joan too.”
Ray let go of my bag. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said there was a time when I wondered if you did it. Did them. The murders.”
His expression changed, his smiling face becoming one of anger and disbelief.
“If that’s what you really think of me, you’re on your own, hot shot.”
He started to walk away in a rage. I grabbed the strap of his bag and pulled him back.
“Wait,” I said, wishing I hadn’t opened my mouth. “Try to see this from my point of view. I came to Stuart and everyone was a stranger to me except my mother. All of a sudden, you show up at my door every other day, claiming to be my friend, inviting me places, being the supportive sidekick.”
“Is that out of the realm of possibility? For a man to be nice?”
“No, but you were a man who hated Jeffrey.”
“I had dinner with Gillby’s niece the night Hirshon was killed.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know where you were before you picked up Laurel.”
“Willow.”
“Right. Not only that, how was I supposed to know if you did, in fact, go to Daytona Beach the weekend Joan was killed?”
“Because I told you I did!” He was yelling now. People in the airport were staring at us. “So you’re admitting you didn’t trust me?”
“No. I’m admitting I was confused. Two minutes after I moved to town, my mother’s cardiologist, who seemed to be an honest person, lied to my sister and me. Then he was shot to death and we were standing over his body when the cops found him. Then, in order to remove the suspicion from us, I went around hoping I’d be able to figure out who was telling the truth and who wasn’t. But it was hard, because no matter how much everybody blabbed about their stale marriages or their torrid affairs, they weren’t saying anything; they weren’t telling me who they were. The thing about people in Florida is that most of them are originally from someplace else, and when they get here it’s easy for them to reinvent themselves. So you think, should I trust them or not?”
“But I’m not from someplace else, and I’ve told you who I am, shown you who I am. How can you even doubt that I’m crazy about you. I—” He stopped. His feelings were hurt. I wanted to slit my wrists.
“Look, Ray. Obviously, I was wrong not to trust you. Terribly wrong. But that was then. This is now.”
“Yeah, and now you don’t trust me because I made a date with Holly.”
“For the same night you were so hot to get in my pants!”
Ray threw up his hands in frustration. “You’re still mad about that?”
“Sort of.”
He glanced at his watch. “Do you really want to stand here and do couples therapy or do you want to go to Lyford Cay and save your sister’s life?”
“The latter.”
<
br /> “Okay. Then why don’t we do that.”
“Why don’t we.”
I wanted Ray to kiss me then, to prove that we were all better, but he didn’t. I could have kissed him, of course, but I was still too riled up about Holly.
“I thought I’d ask a cab driver for suggestions of places to stay here in Nassau,” I said. “The big hotels are probably booked, but he might know of some smaller inns or guest houses that have vacancies. Once we’re settled, we can plot our strategy for getting into Lyford Cay.”
“I’m here to serve,” he said dryly. “Lead the way.”
We hailed a cab and got in.
“Where may I take you, please?” asked our driver, a young man with a lilting Bahamian accent.
“We were hoping you could help us with that,” said Ray. “Do you know of any inns or guest houses where we could spend a couple of nights? Someplace clean, not too expensive, not far from Lyford Cay?”
“Lyford’s on the western side of the island,” said the driver. “About a fifteen minute ride from here. I know a place where you could stay that’s pretty close to the club.”
“What’s it called?” I asked.
“Reggie’s,” he said. “Very clean. Not expensive.”
“And you think this Reggie’s has rooms available?” I said.
“I’m sure of it,” said the driver. “Reggie is my uncle. He’ll take good care of you.”
Small islands are a lot like small towns, I guess. No matter where you are, you’re likely to run into somebody’s relative.
Reggie’s Bahamian Inn, as it was formally known, was basically a rooming house for eccentrics—a two-story, white shingled building that reeked of curry. Our room (Ray and I were forced to bunk together, given that the other rooms were occupied) was up the creaky flight of stairs and down the hall, sandwiched between the English couple who were hard of hearing and the German couple who hardly got along. If we experienced any peace and quiet during our stay, I certainly don’t remember it.
“Enjoy yourselves,” said Reggie himself as he showed us our room—a tiny, un-airconditioned space taken up by a king-sized bed.
“Is there a bathroom?” I asked, my spirits sagging, along with the bed’s mattress.
“Yes, my lady,” he said. “One for you. One for the gentleman. Both outside your door, in the hall.”
“Great. We’ll be sharing with our neighbors, the major combatants of World War Two,” I said to Ray after Reggie left us alone.
“Want to try someplace else?” he asked as he opened the window, to try to air out the curry, a fruitless endeavor since the smell was coming from outside.
I shook my head. “We’re not here for a vacation. We’re on a mission. We’re not supposed to enjoy ourselves.”
He stifled a smile. “Not even a little?”
I shook my head. “We’ve got to come up with a plan to rescue Sharon. Something really ingenious.”
“Well, there are two obstacles we need to overcome right off the bat. The first is getting inside the gate at Lyford Cay. The second is finding out which house is Shiller’s.”
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
“Yes?” I called out, hoping either the Germans or the Brits hadn’t mistaken our room for the bathroom.
“Housekeeping,” came a pretty little voice.
Ray opened the door.
“May I bring you some fresh towels?” asked a native woman who identified herself as Sabrina, Reggie’s wife.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the towels from her. They were as soft as sandpaper.
“If you’re hungry for lunch, there’s a restaurant right next door,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Their conch fritters are very nice. Lots of curry.”
Why wasn’t I surprised. “Sabrina, I wonder if I could ask you a question. Do you know anything about Lyford Cay?”
She giggled. “Oh yes, my lady. My husband and I both worked there, before we opened our own establishment. We were the cook and butler in the house of Baron and Baroness Pendleton.”
“Really?” I said with interest. “Then you must be familiar with every nook and cranny of the place.”
“Quite familiar, yes,” she said.
I glanced at Ray. Was Sabrina someone we could trust? I wondered, trying to read his impression of her. Would she be compassionate if we told her why we’d come to Nassau and, perhaps, aid and abet us? Or would she think we were crazy American tourists and call the constable?
I went with my instincts—and with everything I’d learned from watching soap opera actors over the years.
I took a deep breath and fell onto the bed in a swoon. When Ray and Sabrina rushed over to see if I was all right, I launched into a “pretend” crying jag—the same sort of distraught posture that had worked so well on the Sirens of Stuart.
“What can I do for you, my lady?” Sabrina asked, hovering over me, her brow furrowed with concern.
“I’m sorry to break down in front of you, Sabrina,” I said, sniffling. “But I’m overcome with worry over my beloved sister, who is being held against her will at Lyford Cay.”
Sabrina’s eyes widened. “Against her will?”
“Yes,” I said. “She’s in grave danger.”
“Have you contacted the police in Nassau?” she asked.
“No,” I said, “because the man who is holding her is a madman. There’s no telling what he’ll do to my sister if the police come charging in. I’d rather handle the situation more discreetly.”
“Are you sure this man lives at Lyford?”
“Yes. His name is Barry Shiller, and he’s a lawyer from Florida.”
She nodded with recognition. “I believe his house is the third one down from the yacht club, on the water. My cousin, Serena, used to be his housekeeper.”
“But she isn’t anymore?” I said.
“No, my lady. She works for one of the other owners now. The gentleman you speak of has had several housekeepers over the past few years; there is a high turnover among the members of his staff. I don’t like to speak harshly of anybody at Lyford, but people say this man, Mr. Shiller, is difficult to please.”
“Is that so?” I remarked, as I lit on an idea. A harebrained idea, but an idea nonetheless. “You know, Sabrina, since Mr. Shiller has such a revolving door when it comes to his staff, I bet nobody would be suspicious if two new members of his staff show up this afternoon.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“What if Mr. Scalley and I were to pose as his new housekeeper and butler, just to get us past the security guards at Lyford? Would you and Reggie help us do this? Dress us in the appropriate uniforms? Drive us there and drop us off? To save my poor sister?” I threw in a few sobs, a few wipes of the eyes, a few pleading looks.
“Of course, my lady. Of course,” said Sabrina as she patted my hand. “My husband and I will do whatever we can for your sister. Serena will help too.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I said, glancing at Ray who was, at that moment, either marveling at my performance or wishing he were back in Stuart. “Isn’t it kind of her, darling?”
Chapter Twenty-eight
By later that day, Ray seemed to have forgiven me for the incident in the airport, for which I was very grateful. I, of course, was slower to come around.
“How do I look, my lady?” he asked as he stood by the door of our little room, modeling the butler outfit Reggie had lent him.
“Great,” I said, “if the butlers at Lyford Cay wear clamdiggers.”
Ray, you see, was tall. Reggie, on the other hand, was not. As a result, the cuffs of the black pants Ray now had on came up to the middle of his calves.
“How about the shirt?” he said.
It was pretty skimpy too, but it was white, it didn’t have any rips or stains or buttons missing, and it got the job done. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “What about my get-up?”
Ray whistled. “Damn, you’re a fox.”
“I’m seri
ous. Do you think it’s okay?” I was decked out in a white polyester maid’s uniform. Stuffed into a white polyester maid’s uniform, to be frank.
Sabrina, you see, was small. I, on the other hand, was not. As a result, I was busting out all over, just like the month of June.
“It’s mahvelous,” said Ray with a gleam in his eye. “And the hair is a nice touch.”
Sabrina had advised me to pull my unruly mop back, in a bun. The “help” at Lyford, she explained, were expected to appear neat and well-groomed. Of course, neither Ray nor I could fit into Sabrina or Reggie’s shoes, so we wore our own—sneakers—and hoped nobody would notice.
“When is Cousin Serena taking us over to Lyford?” asked Ray.
“Around seven-thirty,” I replied. “She’ll be off from work by then. The plan is that she’ll pick us up, hide us in the trunk of her car, drive back to Lyford because she forgot something—that’s what she’ll tell the guards—and drop us off inside the gates.”
“I hope she has a big trunk.”
“We’ll only be in it for ten minutes. We’ll survive. She thinks the timing will be perfect, because we’ll be showing up when everybody’s finished with the beach and the golf course and having cocktails. She said they’ll be so blitzed they won’t recognize each other, let alone a couple of strangers.”
“Yeah, but I’m Barry’s new butler. Aren’t I supposed to serve the cocktails?”
“You’re not really his butler, Ray, any more than I’m his housekeeper. We’re just assuming the identity of his new butler and housekeeper in case anybody asks. The last thing I’m interested in is scrubbing that lowlife’s floors.” I stopped. Ray’s head was cocked and he had a silly grin on his face. “What?”
“Come here,” he said, waving me over with his finger.
“Why?”
“Because you look adorable in that dress. Like a maid in a porno flick.”
“I’m staying right where I am. I’m still angry at you.”
“That’s too bad, because I’m still crazy about you, even after the things you said in the airport. You see, my sweet, I understand why you were suspicious of everybody. I probably would have been too.”