Silver Linings

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Slowly Mattie let the sheet slide to the floor. The red sarong dress that had seemed so sexy and daring last night looked cheap and tacky this morning as it bunched around her waist. Mattie stepped out of it, turned, and entered the small tin-walled shower. She stood under the weak rush of cool water for a very long time, trying to think of how to handle the situation she had created for herself.

  One thing was for certain. Hugh was going to be impossible to deal with now. Mattie strongly suspected that as far as he was concerned, last night had settled everything. Hugh was a very linear thinker, a straightforward, insensitive sort of man when it came to most things. She knew that he would assume his “relationship” with Mattie was back on track after last night.

  The bathroom door opened. “Here you go, babe. Your fancy shirt and trousers. They're looking a little beat up, but don't worry, we'll get you some new things on St. Gabe.”

  The door closed once more. Mattie decided that one of the hardest things to deal with this morning was Hugh's cheeriness. It was intolerable.

  Her spirits began to revive as she finished showering and got dressed. The brilliant sunlight pouring in through the window and the sight of the turquoise sea did wonders to help dispel the sense of doom that had been hanging over her when she first awakened.

  She could handle Hugh Abbott.

  She must handle Hugh Abbott.

  She would be cool and casual and ever so sophisticated and blasé about the whole thing.

  She would not give him so much as an inkling of how much the entire event had upset her.

  “When do we leave?” Mattie forced herself to ask calmly as she emerged from the bathroom.

  Hugh looked at her, his eyes warm and possessive. “In about twenty minutes. We'll be on St. Gabe by noon.”

  “Great. I can't wait to get out of here.” Mattie's gaze flickered around the dingy little room. She knew she would never forget it as long as she lived.

  Hugh followed her glance. “Not exactly the honey-moon suite at the Ritz, is it?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Things on St. Gabe aren't a whole lot fancier, but I've got plans, babe. You'll see. I just need a little time.”

  “Right. Time cures all, doesn't it?” Mattie picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “I want to say good-bye to Evangeline before we leave.”

  “Doubt if she's up yet. A woman in her line of work tends to sleep days.”

  Mattie smiled coolly. “You're an authority?”

  Hugh's brows rose in silent warning. “Now, don't go implying anything, babe. I told you, I've been keeping myself pure and chaste for you. And after last night I've got to admit it was worth the wait.”

  Mattie felt herself turning pink under the intent gleam in his eyes. She busied herself removing a business card from her purse and scrawling a note on the back. “I'll just leave this under her door.”

  “Tell her thanks from me for the red dress,” Hugh murmured as Mattie picked up the scrap of red satin and the red heels and stepped past him.

  She ignored him as she went down the hall to Evangeline's room and knelt to push the business card and the red dress under the door.

  “What the hell…?” Evangeline sounded sleepy and disgruntled as she abruptly opened the room door. “Oh, it's you, honey. Have a good night?”

  Mattie got quickly to her feet. She blinked at Evangeline's attire, a see-through black nylon peignoir trimmed in fluffy fake fur at the hem and neckline. She had taken time to put on a pair of fake-fur-trimmed matching black high heels.

  “I was just leaving,” Mattie said. “I wanted to say good-bye. And to remind you that if you ever get to Seattle to be sure and look me up. My number is on that card.”

  “You bet.” Evangeline smiled through a yawn and gave Mattie a quick hug. “Good luck, honey.” Then she glanced past Mattie. “You leavin' the island with him?”

  Mattie glanced over her shoulder and saw Hugh leaning negligently against the upstairs railing, arms folded across his chest. “Uh, yes. We're flying out in a few minutes.”

  “Watch out for the kind that like to do favors for you,” Evangeline warned. “Sooner or later they get the idea that they own you.”

  “I'll remember. Good-bye, Evangeline. Take care of yourself.”

  “Bye, honey. Hey. Keep the dress, why don't you? It looks terrific on you, and I don't feel like letting it out again.”

  Mattie looked at the red dress thinking she never wanted to see it again. “Oh, I couldn't possibly—”

  “No, no, I mean it. A present, you know? One working woman to another. Like I said, we got to stick together.”

  “Thank you.” Mattie knew there was no polite way to turn down the gift. She stuffed the red sarong into her shoulder bag and smiled weakly. “Well, good-bye.”

  “See ya.” Evangeline yawned sleepily and closed the door.

  Mattie turned to find Hugh still watching silently from the railing. She stood there looking at him, unable to think of anything clever to say.

  “Ready?” He came away from the railing.

  “Yes.”

  The small chartered plane landed on St. Gabriel's single runway five minutes before the rain squall hit. By the time the pilot had taxied up to the main terminal, a building that was not much more than a large shack of corrugated aluminum, the rain was coming down in buckets.

  Mattie was surprised to find herself invigorated by the wild downpour. She actually laughed as she jumped down onto the tarmac and raced toward the metal shack.

  “Don't worry, it'll be over in a few minutes,” Hugh assured her as he grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the shelter of the terminal building.

  Mattie shook the rain from her hair and listened to the roar on the roof as she glanced around curiously. Several figures were lounging around inside the terminal. They greeted Hugh with easy familiarity, their eyes going straight to Mattie.

  “Hey, Abbott. What's that you brought back with you? A little souvenir?” one of the men asked.

  “Meet my fiancée, Mattie Sharpe.”

  Mattie winced. This was going to be more awkward than she had thought. Things were even more settled in Hugh's mind than she'd feared.

  “Pleased to meet ya, Mattie.”

  “Good luck to ya, ma'am. Abbott here could use a woman around to polish up his manners.”

  “When's the wedding?”

  Hugh was grinning as he led Mattie through the small terminal. “Don't worry, boys. You'll all be invited to the party.”

  Mattie found herself back outside and being stuffed into a Jeep. The rain was already moving on, leaving a steaming green landscape in its wake. In spite of her forebodings, a new sense of excitement gripped her. This was Hugh's island; his home. This was the place she had been willing to move to sight unseen a year ago. She could not help wondering what her life would have been like if Hugh had taken her up on her offer to follow him out here.

  “You're going to love it here, Mattie,” Hugh announced as he slid behind the wheel.

  Mattie said nothing.

  “First thing we'll do this afternoon is get you some clothes. That red thing is cute as hell, but you can't wear it all the time, can you?”

  “Probably not.”

  “We'll stop in town before I take you on out to the house. You can do some shopping while I check in at the office.”

  The road into the tiny town of St. Gabriel followed the cliffs above the sea. Thick jungle vegetation hugged it on one side, and down below on the other side Mattie could see pristine white beaches and foaming breakers. There was a gray Navy ship and a big, sleek white cruise ship anchored just off shore.

  “Navy puts in here regularly. Has for years. But now we're starting to get a little more tourist trade,” Hugh explained above the noise of the wind rushing past the open Jeep windows. “Cruise ship comes in once a week. One of the big hotel chains is talking about putting in a first-class resort. Lot of divers are starting to come here. St. Gabe is on the way
, babe. You and me are going to be part of it.”

  Hugh drove the twisting, narrow road with the casually efficient competence that characterized everything he did. Mattie found her gaze straying to his strong hands as they curved around the wheel. Memories of those hands on her body during the night flooded her mind.

  Hugh's lovemaking could hardly have been described as artful, but there was a raw power and an elemental passion in it that had been as overwhelming this time as it had been the first time, a year ago. Mattie shivered as she recalled her own uncontrollable response. Last night, when she had awakened to find him looming over her, nothing in the world had mattered except having him become a part of her.

  Fool. Idiot.

  The small town hugging the waterfront of a beautiful natural harbor looked faded and worn. It was obvious no one went out of the way yet to attract the trickle of tourists Hugh claimed were starting to come to St. Gabriel.

  “We're still not used to tourists here yet,” Hugh explained as he parked the Jeep in front of a building that had Abbott Charters painted on the front. “But one of these days St. Gabe is going to start waking up to the fact that we're all going to get rich. When it does you'll see some civic action downtown. Come on, babe, I'll introduce you to a couple of the guys who work for me.”

  Curious in spite of her mixed emotions regarding Hugh, Mattie followed him into the interior of Abbott Charters. It was a warehouse-style building with a small office in one corner. On the walls there were a couple of pinup calendars featuring overly endowed females in clothes that resembled Mattie's red sarong.

  “Mattie, this is Ray and Derek. They fly for me,” Hugh announced as two men, one young, one middle-aged, took their feet down off a desk and stood up.

  Mattie smiled and shook hands. The two men had the look of bush pilots the world over: a sort of easy machismo and an aura of bravura. They gave Mattie the once-over with raffish eyes, but they seemed to acknowledge that Hugh's presence beside her made her private property.

  “You get that government shipment over to St. Julian?” Hugh asked as he stopped beside a battered metal desk and picked up a sheaf of papers.

  “Took it over yesterday, boss,” Ray, the younger of the two pilots, said laconically. “What have you been up to? Heard there was some trouble on Purgatory. Get caught in it?”

  “Mattie did. I found her in time, but Cormier's dead.”

  “Damn. Who got him?”

  “Don't know yet,” Hugh said, tossing aside the papers. “But sooner or later I'll find out.”

  Mattie heard the cold certainty in Hugh's voice, and she turned to glance at him in surprise. She had not realized he intended to try to track down Cormier's killer. “Hugh? What do you mean, you're going to find out? How can you do that?”

  “Never mind, babe.” He smiled at her and turned to the older pilot. “You finish the inspection on that Cessna?”

  “Yeah, boss. No major problems.”

  “Check out that fuel line on the Beech?”

  “It's fixed.”

  “Keep an eye out for corrosion?”

  “Sure, boss. Like always.” Derek winked at Mattie and added conspiratorially, “The man's a damn tyrant when it comes to maintenance.”

  “You want to get caught out over the water with corroded equipment, that's your privilege,” Hugh said. “But do it in someone else's plane. Not one of mine. I can always find more pilots but good, reliable aircraft are hard to come by.”

  Ray grinned widely at Mattie. “Don't worry, his bark is worse than his bite. Most of the time, that is.”

  Mattie smiled back. “I'll keep that in mind.”

  Hugh looked at her. “I'll bet you're ready to do some shopping, aren't you, babe? There's a couple of stores farther down the street. Why don't you go have a look while I finish checking up on things here? I'll be along in a few minutes.”

  “Fine.” Mildly irritated at being sent off as though she were a child who was too young to hear an adult conversation, Mattie turned on her heel and strode toward the door.

  “I think she's mad, boss,” Derek observed.

  “She's been under a lot of stress lately,” Hugh explained.

  Two doors down from Abbott Charters Mattie saw a window display that included jeans and short-sleeved shirts. She went inside and made her selections quickly. There was not much choice.

  When she reemerged a few minutes later she walked across the street to take a closer look at the wide variety of boats bobbing in the harbor. There were several sailboats, a few fishing boats, and one large cruiser that had Abbott Charters printed neatly on the bow. Apparently, Hugh was in the boat as well as air charter business. An astute businessman covering all the bases.

  She strolled along the waterfront for a short distance, taking in the picturesque setting with a weird sense of déjà vu. This would have been her home if she had come here a year ago. Somehow it all looked exactly as it should, as it had in her dreams and fantasies.

  She leaned over the concrete balustrade and found herself staring into the uncovered stern section of one of the boats. For a second she could not believe her eyes.

  She was looking straight down at a half-finished painting. It was sitting on an easel that had been set up in the aging boat amid a welter of brushes, paints, coiled ropes, and fishing gear.

  The painting was incomplete, but it was stunning.

  The artist had obviously taken the lazy, sun-drenched scene of the main street of St. Gabriel as his starting point. But the painting had gone far beyond a mere reproduction of the quay, bars, and faded storefronts that lined the waterfront. This was no tranquil scene of a picture-postcard island paradise. It was a primitive, incredibly sensual image of savage beauty.

  In the half-finished painting the jungle behind the town throbbed with both unseen menace and a sense of life in its rawest form. The beautiful waters of the harbor threatened the tiny outpost of civilization yet somehow held promise for the future.

  The painting was at once a universal statement on the human condition and a compelling landscape scene. It was a work of art on several levels, totally accessible to a wide variety of viewers.

  And Mattie knew immediately that she could sell it for a small fortune back in Seattle. Perhaps for a very large fortune if she shrouded the painter in enough mystery.

  All of her instincts as a businesswoman snapped to full, quivering attention. Like a hound on the scent, she hurried down the dock steps and peered through the windows of the boat's cabin. She had to locate the artist, and she hoped like hell he was not already represented by another dealer.

  She leaned down to call into the cabin. “Anybody home?”

  There was no response.

  She waited impatiently for a moment or so. When there was still no sign of life, she glanced at the name painted on the hull of the old boat and tried again.

  “Excuse me. Is anyone home on board the Griffin?”

  “Don't go holdin' yer breath waitin' for an answer from ol'Silk, lady. He's already up at the Hellfire. Won't be back till Bernard rolls him out the door sometime after midnight.”

  Mattie glanced down the dock and saw a grizzled old man crouched over a coil of rope. His skin looked like leather and his eyes had a permanent, sun-induced squint. He was wearing a pair of old pants that hung precariously on his scrawny frame and a cap that looked as if it might once have been decorated with a military insignia.

  “Hello,” Mattie said politely. “I'm looking for whoever painted that picture.”

  “That'd be Silk, all right. He's always fiddlin' around with those paints o' his. 'Cept when he's busy workin' or drinkin', o' course.”

  “Of course. And I take it he is now drinking?”

  “Yup. Take a look at the time. Dang near four o'clock. Silk always heads for the Hellfire at three sharp on Wednesdays. Real regular in his habits, Silk is.”

  “Thank you for the information,” said Mattie, turning. “I'll try the Hellfire. Is it up there on the water-fron
t?”

  “Yup. But I don't reckon you want to be goin' in there, ma'am.” The old man eyed her skeptically. “Silk can get a might difficult to manage once he's had a few. Specially when it comes to females. Silk likes females and he don't get a shot at very many around here. Just an occasional tourist.” The man spit a wad of chewing tobacco into the harbor. “None of us gets much shot at females. Not many females get this far. They usually stop in Hawaii. Worse 'n livin' in a dang monastery.”

  “Really? If that's the way you feel, then why do you choose to live way out here?”

  “Used to it, I reckon. What you want with Silk?”

  “I just want to do a little business with Mr. Silk.”

  “Yeah? Funny. Wouldn't have pegged you right off for the type. Kinda thin for that sort o' work, ain't ya? But if that's your aim, I'd get the money up front if'n I was you. Silk don't like payin' for it after the fact, if you know what I mean.”

  “I'll keep your advice in mind,” Mattie said as she started toward the steps that led up to the street.

  The novelty of being mistaken for a professional prostitute had begun to wear thin, she reflected. Definitely time to go home.

  Just as soon as she had acquired some paintings from this Silk person.

  She did not want to have to label her Pacific trip a complete disaster, which, until now, was what it definitely had been.

  CHAPTER

  Seven

  The Hellfire bar was another classic island dive. Mattie decided she was in a position to judge now, after having spent most of yesterday evening in one. This tavern was open to the breezes, just as the one last night had been. It had a sluggish ceiling fan and a long, long backbar filled with the basics: beer, whiskey, rum, vodka, and gin. There was no white wine as far as Mattie could see.

  The crowd was light and appeared to consist entirely of men who looked as if they had spent their lives working around docks and fishing boats. In one corner sat a handful of sailors who were presumably off the Navy ship that Mattie had seen at anchor in the harbor.

  In another corner near the rail that separated the interior of the Hellfire from the street sat a mountain of a man. He had an overgrown beard and a shock of hair that had obviously been bright red at one time. He was dressed in a flower print shirt that hung unbuttoned to the waist and revealed a great expanse of massive, tanned chest. He also had on a pair of shorts and a pair of thongs. There was a glass of what looked like whiskey on the rattan table in front of him.