Carolina Isle

by Jude Deveraux

  “We’ll fix this,” David said. “After a good dinner—”

  “‘Eat, drink, and be merry,’” R.J. quoted.

  “‘For tomorrow we die,’” Sara finished.

  Chapter Nine

  WHEN THEY REACHED THE RESTAURANT the locals called a pub, all four of them smiled. The interior did indeed look like an English pub, down to the horse brasses hanging around the huge walk-in fireplace. It was warm weather so the fire wasn’t lit, but it was easy to imagine that it was lovely when it was.

  The waitress treated them as though she was used to strangers. None of the other patrons so much as glanced at them as they were shown to their booth. Ariel and Sara sat beside each other, the men across from them.

  The waitress passed out menus, photocopied sheets inserted into those old-fashioned black-trimmed plastic holders. The men ordered beers, Sara ordered a gin and tonic, while Ariel asked for sparkling water with a slice of lime.

  “I think we should try to enjoy our time on the island,” David said when the waitress was gone.

  “Should we enjoy the ‘no money’ part first or the ‘coming trial’ part first?” Sara asked.

  David acted like she hadn’t spoken. “We’ve met someone good, we have a charge account, and we’ll get off the island on Monday. Someday we’ll look back on all this as an adventure.”

  The waitress gave them their drinks and as soon as she was out of earshot, Sara said, “I don’t trust that Vancurren woman,” then the women laughed because Ariel had said the same thing at the same time.

  “Boo, hissss,” R.J. said, sipping his beer. “Both of you are jealous.”

  “Of what?!” Ariel and Sara demanded, then laughed again, because again, they’d said the same thing together.

  “We were good at exchanging places,” Sara said.

  “You were abysmal,” R.J. said. “Although I like your new clothes, and what did you do with that wig? Do they make it in red?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Sara said, “and don’t start another argument. Ariel and I don’t trust her and we don’t like her.”

  “And every word she spoke was a lie,” Ariel said.

  R.J. looked at David. “Did she talk? I didn’t notice that she could talk, did you?”

  “I thought she was a deaf mute,” David said. “Never said a word, but the hand gestures were nice.”

  “Both of you are despicable,” Sara said.

  “I agree,” Ariel said. “Any woman could dress like that and look like that, but a lady—”

  She cut herself off because both David and R.J. pointedly looked at her breasts. Neither Ariel nor Sara was flat-chested by any means, but neither were they burdened with breasts the size of cantaloupes.

  Ariel was unperturbed. “Wherever do you think she found a surgeon on this island?” she asked in mock innocence.

  “She could have had them done in California,” Sara said. “You know, back when they were pioneering implants. I wonder what they’re full of? Some poisonous gel? Maybe she should have them checked.”

  “Okay, you two,” R.J. said, grinning. “Have you decided what you want to eat?”

  “Seafood,” Sara said.

  “Yes, definitely seafood,” David said, then he and Sara smiled at each other. They were making a joke because there was nothing but seafood on the menu.

  “Let’s see,” Sara said, thoroughly pleased to have David’s attention, “they have fried seafood, steamed seafood, or grilled seafood. Or, they mix seafood with other seafood, then they fry it or steam it, or they put it all together in a little dish and bake it.” David was smiling more broadly with every word she spoke.

  “Could you just say what you want to eat without the editorial?” R.J. snapped.

  With David’s laughing eyes on her, Sara put her finger on the menu, ran it down the page, stopped, then looked. “Number eight. Fried clams, flounder, and shrimp.” When David did the same thing, she said, “What did you get?”

  “Oysters,” he said in a low, seductive voice that suggested the long-held belief that oysters give a person sexual appetite. Sara laughed suggestively right back at him. R.J.’s glare was making her feel good—and after the events of the day, she needed whatever could make her feel good. “Oysters …” she said. “Oh, yes. Let’s have oysters.”

  The waitress’s arrival stopped Sara from saying more and they gave their orders. As soon as she left, Sara looked at David to let him know she was ready to continue the teasing, but R.J. leaned across the table to Ariel and said, “I want to hear everything you know about this island.”

  Ariel looked around the restaurant as though she thought the other people in the restaurant were listening. “I’ve been told that they do what was done to us,” she said.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “That isn’t enough?”

  “I guess it is,” R.J. said. “The Internet sites say the same thing. I just thought you might know something more.”

  The food came and as they ate, they tried to talk of something other than their predicament, but it was difficult.

  The waitress returned for their dessert order. Sara was full, but wondered if this would be their last meal. They had yet to tell the waitress they were charging everything to Ms. Vancurren. Was her credit good? Or would they be washing dishes? she wondered.

  When the waitress handed the men their plates of apple pie and put the bill on the table, R.J. told her that the meal was to be put on the account of Phyllis Vancurren. For a moment Sara thought the young woman was going to take the desserts back. She pursed her lips and frowned, then said that they could charge a meal one time, but never again. She went away in a huff, and for the first time, the other people in the restaurant looked at them. Sara wanted to slide down the seat in embarrassment.

  For a moment the four of them were quiet. Sara picked up a fork and began to share a piece of pie with David.

  “I wish I’d ordered another drink before I told her,” R.J. muttered and Sara smiled.

  “I’m just glad we didn’t tell her before we ate,” David said and Sara smiled more.

  “What are we going to do for food tomorrow?” Ariel asked.

  Again they were quiet, but then R.J. took the pen out of the plastic folder the waitress had left and pulled a napkin out of the metal holder. “Let’s make a list of useful things that we can do. Maybe we can get enough work to feed ourselves for a few days.”

  “We’ll work for food and a bed, just as Lassiter said,” David said, and for once Sara was glad for his gung-ho attitude.

  “I can mow lawns,” Sara said. “In fact, I might be the best at mowing lawns of any other person on the planet. I can even mow them in patterns. I once wrote a kid’s initials in the grass.”

  When she finished, the others were looking at her in a way that she couldn’t read.

  “Lawn mowing,” R.J. wrote, but no one could read his writing so Sara took the napkin and pen away from him and wrote “lawn mowing” legibly.

  She looked at R.J. “You can lay brick.”

  R.J. grimaced and she knew that his pride was hurt. He could make multimillion-dollar deals, but she didn’t think there would be any call for those on King’s Isle. Suddenly, the seriousness of everything hit her. She looked at the napkin and saw the two items. How had they come to this? What had they done to deserve this? What would happen to them if the judge decided that R.J. was guilty?

  It was David who lightened the air. “Sara,” he said seriously, “have you no pity? Maybe your boss used to lay bricks when he was younger, but he can’t do it now, not with the extra weight he’s carrying.”

  Sara looked up at David with her mouth open in shock. Was he trying to start a fight? Did he want R.J. to drag him out into the alley? But then David winked at her and she understood.

  “Listen, kid,” R.J. said, “I can still do a day’s work and this so-called weight I’m carrying is dormant muscle.”

  That made them laugh. Dormant muscle!

 
; When R.J. looked at Sara, she knew he was aware that David had purposely saved them from depression and R.J. was grateful. “Put me down there for brick laying or any kind of construction.” He looked at David. “And what can a blue-eyed darlin’ like Jock here do?”

  “Put on your list that I could be a style consultant,” Ariel said.

  “For what?” Sara said. “Are you going to help them decide between the Dolce and Gabbana or the Armani for the gala?”

  Ariel didn’t smile. “I’m going to teach Phyllis Vancurren to dress her age.”

  Sara laughed. She’d been topped.

  At that moment a man walked past their table, bumped into it, then caught himself before he fell. David reached out to catch him but the man righted himself. He was short, thin, ugly, had a beer in one hand, and the unmistakable look of a long-term drunk.

  Sara moved the napkin with the list away from the man’s hand before he knocked it off the table.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” the man said, slurring his words. “Move away from me, missy. High-class goods like you can’t be near somebody like me.”

  Sara kept her head down.

  “You want to get away from her?” she heard R.J. say and there was fight in his voice.

  When she looked at R.J., she saw that he was about to get out of his seat and go after the man, but David was doing his best to keep R.J. pinned in place against the wall.

  The drunken man stood at the end of the table for a moment, blinking to clear his vision. He looked from Ariel to Sara, then back again, then shook his head. Sara knew that with her Ariel wig on they looked enough alike to be twins.

  She could feel the tension of the two men at the table and she was afraid they were going to do something rash. She looked back toward the bar, intending to summon help, but everyone in there and at the tables was studiously looking down and ignoring them.

  She was just about to get up and see if she could coax the man away from their table when he stood up straight. He stumbled to get his balance, then walked toward the bar.

  Everyone let out a sigh of relief when he was gone. Sara made a quick glance about the room and saw that the patrons had started eating again. They made her angry. It was as though they thought that anything bad happened to them was deserved. R.J. caught her eye and they exchanged looks. He too had seen the lack of reaction from the other patrons.

  “Only centuries of inbreeding can create something like that,” R.J. said and they all smiled. The man had indeed been ugly: skinny, with big, stand-out ears. His skin was sallow, his cheeks shrunken and covered with bristles of gray.

  “How old do you think he is?” David asked. “I have an idea he’s no more than forty-five, but he looks much older. Hard island life, I guess.”

  In the next moment the front door opened and a man came in. His face was red, as though he’d just come in from being on a boat. As David and Sara watched—the other two couldn’t see over the backs of the benches—the man went to the bar, ordered a beer, then slapped the drunk on the back. “Got a new dog yet, Fenny?” he asked loudly. A hush fell over the restaurant and the bartender nodded toward their booth. When the man saw David and Sara, his face turned an ugly shade of purple and he hurried out of the restaurant before he was served his beer.

  The four of them fell back against the tall backs of the booth. To say it was silent in the restaurant was an understatement. Sara was sure she could hear the linoleum cracking. In the next moment noises came from the bar, but she didn’t turn around to see what was happening. They knew that the drunk, a.k.a. John Fenwick Nezbit, was being ushered out of the building.

  Sara glanced at David and saw that even he had lost his smile. “That’s what we’re up against?” he whispered. “A judge might believe him over us?”

  “Come on,” R.J. said, “let’s get out of here.”

  They kept their heads high and their eyes straight ahead as they walked out of the restaurant. Sara could feel the people around them working hard not to stare.

  Once outside, they slowly walked toward the boardinghouse.

  “If they took everything away from us on the word of a man like that …” Ariel said, but couldn’t finish her sentence.

  “Then there’s no doubt that this is a put-up job,” R.J. said.

  Sara glanced at him and saw that his eyes were glassy, but she couldn’t tell if it was fear or anger. He was the one being accused of the crime. He was the one who stood to lose the most if … if…. She couldn’t bring herself to think about what could happen.

  “Tomorrow,” Sara said, “we’re going to do whatever it takes to get ourselves off this island. We’re not going to be here for that court date. Is everyone agreed on that?”

  “You trying out for cheerleader?” R.J. asked, but he was smiling.

  “That’s David’s job,” Sara joked.

  “I tried Ms. Vancurren’s phone and it was dead,” Ariel said.

  The men looked at her.

  Ariel shrugged. “I did it just before we left for the restaurant. I would have hidden myself and found out more, but I heard her on the stairs.”

  Sara looked at David. “Does she often snoop … successfully?”

  David gave a rueful smile. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to pretend that I was talking to her when I had no idea where she was. If her mother was doing something she didn’t want Ariel to know about, you can bet that Ariel was there hiding in the ferns and listening.”

  “Interesting,” R.J. said, looking at Ariel with admiration.

  “I vote that we get a good night’s sleep, then in the morning try to find jobs of any kind that we can,” Sara said. “With all the seafood eaten around here, they must have a lot of fishing boats going out.”

  “We could hijack one,” R.J. said.

  “Excellent idea,” David said. “I think that tomorrow we should separate and each of us should find out what we can do to get to the mainland. Or even just to call. Surely there’s a radio or something on this island.”

  “I’m sure there are telephones in every house,” Ariel said, “but they’re not going to let us near one of them. If I could call one person, I’d call my mother. She’d have the U.S. Army here in minutes. And the FBI.”

  “I’d call my lawyer,” R.J. said. “As much as I pay him, he’d show up with the navy.”

  “I’m with Ariel,” David said. “I’d call her mother. She’d call in UFOs if she had to.”

  They were smiling, laughing even, and they turned to Sara in question. Who would she call? What could she say? That she’d call her boss? She looked away from them and said, “Look, her ladyship has left the porch light on.”

  “Is it red?” Ariel asked, deadpan, and they laughed.

  When Sara glanced at R.J., he seemed to be in serious thought. David and Ariel hurried toward the house, which was beginning to seem like a haven in a storm, but R.J. caught Sara’s hand. “I’ve let you down,” he said softly.

  “Of course not,” she said, pulling away from his grasp. “You’re in more trouble than we are.”

  “But I’m the one who wanted to come to the island in the first place. I’m the one—”

  Sara was embarrassed by his words and wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Sara—” he began, but she turned away just as Ms. Vancurren opened the front door. She was wearing a filmy green negligee and matching robe, and she was yawning and acting as though she was unaware of her sexiness. “I didn’t expect you to stay out so late,” she said.

  As soon as they were inside the house, David said to Ms. Vancurren, “We met the man Nezbit.”

  “I was afraid that would happen,” she said. “He frequents the pub rather often.”

  Sara was watching her closely and saw that she showed no surprise that they’d met Nezbit. Someone had already told her. How? she wondered. Was there a private telephone system on the island? Or had someone run over here as fast as possible to tell her? That she’d been told made Sara sure the woman was in on eve
rything. Would she get a split of the money R.J. would be charged on Monday?

  R.J. stepped forward. “I don’t think the testimony of a man like that will hold up in court.”

  “Don’t underestimate him,” Phyllis said. “His family’s been on King’s Isle for generations and he’s rich.”

  “Rich?” Ariel said. “He doesn’t look rich.”

  Ms. Vancurren gave Ariel a look up and down, then smiled. “He doesn’t wear designer clothes, but he’s got money.”

  “So how did he get it?” R.J. asked. “More dogs, more tourists?”

  Phyllis gave a little smile. “Now you’ve hit on one of the great mysteries of this island. Fenny hasn’t worked a day since his thirty-second birthday. All he does is make babies, but he’s always got money. I could tell you stories that—” She cut herself off to give a yawn that nearly made her come out of the top of her nightgown. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m exhausted. I must get to bed.” With that, she went up the stairs to her bedroom and closed the door.

  “What a rude woman!” Ariel said in a tone that made it sound as though rudeness was the worst condemnation in the world.

  Sara didn’t know about the others, but she was so tired she could have stretched out on the stairs and fallen asleep.

  David smiled at her. “After you.”

  Upstairs, they stood for a moment looking at the bedrooms, but didn’t move. “My kingdom for a toothbrush,” Sara said.

  “Should I ask to borrow one from Phyllis?” R.J. asked.

  “You enter that woman’s bedroom and you won’t come out alive,” Ariel said in absolute seriousness.

  “Sounds good to me,” R.J. said.

  Sara was too tired to care about the men’s lusting after that dreadful woman and took a step toward the bathroom, but Ariel beat her to it. She slipped into the room and shut the door before Sara could take a step. She leaned against the door and sighed.

  “So how do we split the bedrooms?” R.J. asked.

  David looked puzzled, but Sara knew what R.J. meant. “Boys in one, girls in the other,” she said.

  “Darn!” R.J. said, and Sara smiled.

  The three of them were standing just outside the bathroom door so they could hear everything that Ariel was doing inside. Water running, toilet flushing. Sara stepped away from the door. “Remind me to be extra quiet when I’m in there.”