She fell to her knees. A rush of horrible memories swept over her. She was only eight when revolutionaries had snatched her father on his way home from his factory on the dusty outskirts of Guadalajara. It hadn’t ended well.
She grabbed his hat and hugged it close. She could smell his cologne. Hermes Eau D’Orange. Wait now. Don’t rush to judgment. This wasn’t Mexico. Maybe Cyrus got tired and decided to take the sidewalk that ran along A1A back to the B and B. The walking would be much easier than in the soft sand. Yes. That had to be it. He’d probably be back at Atlantic Shores waiting for her. Wondering where she’d been.
Elena crossed the road to the sidewalk and quickly made her way back. Clutching Cyrus’s hat, she ran up the steps to their room. The door was locked. She pounded on it. “Cyrus! Cyrus, open up. Please…” She pulled out her key and unlocked the door.
The room was empty. She dropped his hat onto the floor. Don’t cry. What should she do?
Just then, Amber Tibbs appeared in the doorway. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought y’all would have been gone by now. Most of the other guests have left.” She stopped. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”
Elena brushed tears from her eyes. “No. No. I…I—” She burst into tears. Amber ran up to her. “What? What’s the matter?”
Elena pushed the door closed. “It’s my husband. I can’t find him.”
Amber looked around the room. “Where did he go?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know. He went for a walk on the beach, like he’s done every morning, but he hasn’t come back.”
“What time did he leave?”
“I don’t know. I slept in this morning. I woke up around nine. He was gone already. I don’t know exactly what time he left. It could’ve been around seven, or maybe right before I got up. I don’t know.”
“Well, we can go down to the beach and look for him. Does he swim? Do you think he may have gone swimming? You know, there’s some strong rip currents here.”
Elena gave a start. “There is? I don’t know. Maybe. He likes to go in the water, and it’s so warm this time of year.”
“Let me get Shawn. He’ll know what to do. Maybe we can start a search party or something.”
“Yes. Get him. Please get him.”
###
Jeanette pushed the library door open and stepped inside. “What are you painting today?”
Stephen squeezed some burnt umber from a tube. “Something different. An abstract.”
She squinted. “What’s it supposed to be?”
He laughed. “Nothing. That’s the point. It’s abstract.”
“Yeah. Okay. I think I like your landscapes better.”
He stepped away from the easel. “I had something in mind for this canvas. Not sure I’m getting there.” He put down his palette knife and wiped his hands on a cloth. “Phillip’s been spending more and more time over at Barbara’s cottage. I’m beginning to wonder if my initial fear wasn’t correct.”
Jeanette’s brow furrowed. “Oh, I hope not. I thought he’d have learned his lesson from Britt.”
“She was a tease,” Stephen replied.
“And look what happened. Somebody took her flirting seriously and killed her.”
“I could tell something wasn’t right about that guy the first time I met him. He was about as unfriendly as you could get.”
“Yes. Bobby Blankenship didn’t like you once Britt started pulling her act on you too.”
Stephen nodded. “Talk about embarrassing. And now it seems Phillip’s jumping into the same madness.”
“I don’t think Barbara’s the flirt Britt was. Barbara thinks way too much of herself for that. But the drinking. Phillip always talked about it. Now he’s suddenly embracing it?” She gave him a gentle push. “Men. Who can figure them out?”
“Hey. Don’t stick me in the same category as my uncle.” Stephen started cleaning dabs of paint from his palette. “What time is it? I’m starving.”
“That’s why I’m here. Cora sent me up to get you.”
After an uneventful dinner, everyone retreated to the conservatory. Rain poured down the windows and obliterated the view of the thick woods and spectacular cliff behind the house. The conservatory ran almost the whole length of the mansion. Large potted plants and heavy ornate furniture filled the room.
Phillip leaned over and filled Barbara’s glass from a pitcher of old-fashions. He turned to Stephen. “Refill?”
Stephen shook his head. “No. I’ve had too much of that poison already.”
“Me, too,” Jeanette said. “I bet I’ll feel those in the morning.”
Stephen and Jeanette moved to a table where their unfinished jigsaw puzzle lay scattered.
Phillip took a sip of his drink. “I wonder how the wedding went yesterday.”
Barbara looked up. “Oh, that’s right. Good old Caroline got hitched, didn’t she? How many times is that now? Three?”
“Two,” Phillip corrected. “Her first husband got killed in a plane crash.”
Barbara smiled. “Her getting married is good news for me. I bet she quits acting now.” She glanced at Phillip. “We can finally stop competing for your damn scream-queen roles.” She took a big drink from her glass.
Stephen looked up from the puzzle. “Why do you think she’ll quit acting?”
Barbara tried to straighten herself in the chair. “Hell, everyone knows she’s loaded now. That guy she married inherited big bucks when they finalized his dad’s insurance settlement. He was some kind of hot-shot reporter in L.A., Francesco Rivera. The paper had a big policy on him. At least that’s what the in-crowd was saying.” She waved her glass in the air. “Big bucks. And guess what? That means Caroline won’t have to work anymore.”
Stephen glanced over at his uncle, who was still standing with the pitcher of drinks. “Plenty of rich actors keep working. I think that may be a bit of wishful thinking on your part, Barbara.”
Jeanette kicked him under the table.
“Oh, you do, do you?” Barbara struggled to get up. “Let me tell you—” She pushed herself from the chair and took a wobbly step forward. She blinked a few times and staggered to the side.
Stephen leapt from his chair, but was too far away to stop her from falling into Phillip. His uncle took a step backward and collided with a wrought-iron ottoman. His hands flew into the air, and he tumbled backward. The pitcher of old-fashions went flying as Phillip rolled onto the floor.
Stephen rushed over. “Are you okay?”
“My foot! My foot!”
His uncle’s foot had become entangled in the heavy footstool, and his ankle was twisted in a nasty position. Stephen gently took Phillip’s ankle and carefully extracted it from the iron filigree.
Phillip winced in pain as he struggled to stand.
“Stop!” Stephen yelled. He reached out for him. “That ankle’s either broken or badly sprained. Don’t put any weight on it. Here, take my shoulder.”
Phillip grimaced as he held onto his nephew and slowly stood. “Damn. I think it’s broken.”
“Let’s ease you over to the front door. I’ll get the car. You need to get to the hospital for some x-rays.”
Barbara, glass in hand, said, “I don’t feel so good.” She burped. “I think I’m off to bed.”
Jeanette shook her head and grabbed Phillip’s other side.
Stephen knew exactly what Jeanette was thinking. Not even an apology from Barbara.
Seven
Cyrus crawled out of a small tent. He was sweating. The sun was still rising low in the eastern sky. What time was it? It didn’t matter. It was already stifling and very humid. One of the men who had grabbed him was sitting on a plastic chair eating something out of a tin can.
Cyrus looked around. Where was he? A wide swath of slow moving brown water flowed around the shoreline about fifty feet from where he was standing. He rubbed his wrists where they had been bound. “Where have you taken me?”
The man spit out something a
nd wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “On an island in the middle of the Saint John’s River. Ain’t nobody going to mess with us out here.” He tossed Cyrus a can. “There’s an opener on top of that stack of toilet paper in your tent.” A portable radio was playing country music.
Cyrus read the label. “Dinty Moore Stew?”
“Yep. And you better get used to it. We got two cases sitting over there and nothing else. Oh, I’d watch where I was stepping, if I was you.”
Cyrus peered at the leaves and sticks that were littered around him. “Why?”
“Because a four-foot water moccasin slithered right by there about twenty minutes ago. It’s the third one I seen. You get bit by one of them babies out here with no doctor around, you can kiss your ass goodbye.”
Cyrus stared at the ground again.
“While you’re doing your nature study, take a look in the river about a hundred yards out.”
Cyrus turned to where he was pointing.
“See them bumps? Them’s ’gators. If you look real hard, you can see the damn river’s full of ’em. So if you get a bright idea of swimming away from here, I’d give you about three minutes before them bastards tear your limbs off.” Everett poured the last contents of his stew onto his spoon and tossed the can into the bushes. He reached down, picked up a knife and a short stick, and started whittling.
Cyrus held up his can. “Do you have a little stove out here where I can heat this up?”
“No. Just eat it cold. You might want to take your spoon and skim off that layer of white fat on top before you dig in. But that’s up to you.” He laughed. “Little stove. Now that’s a good one.” His knife glinted in the sun.
Cyrus set the can down and moved closer. “Did somebody from California find you guys and ask you to kidnap me?”
Everett pulled his shirt away from his shorts to reveal a gun that was stuck in his waistband. “California? Hell, no. We never been to California, and don’t know anybody from there. Why?”
“Never mind. I’m just wondering. I presume this is a kidnapping. If so, may I ask how much money do you, or whoever’s behind this, want?” He swatted a huge mosquito from his arm.
“Fifty grand.”
Cyrus thought for a moment. “How do I know you won’t kill me if the money gets delivered?”
The knife Everett was holding slipped from the branch and sliced into his little finger. “Shit! Now look what you made me do.” He pulled a dingy handkerchief from his back pocket and wrapped it around the cut. “We ain’t interested in anything like that. Don’t mind what the other guy says. We’re just a little low on cash, is all. This should be easy. You get us the money; we let you go. We don’t want no trouble.” He spit on the ground again. “Hell, if you think I enjoy sitting out here in the middle of nowhere babysitting you and eyeballin’ snakes and ‘gators, you’re crazy.”
Cyrus squatted down. “Well, I got some bad news for you, mister. The problem is, I’m broke. And to make matters worse, the wife doesn’t really know it yet. Thank God my house is paid for. So if you sent some kind of ransom note to her, it’s not going to do you much good.”
Everett laughed. “Right. A big money guy like you from Hollywood, broke. You better think up a better one than that.”
“I’m not kidding. I got about three grand in the bank, and that’s it. So if you’re really trying to get fifty thousand out of me, it’s just not going to happen.”
Everett leaned toward him. “Well, I guess you’re going to have to figure out a way to get it then, ain’t you?” He pointed his knife at him. “And it looks like you’re gonna be eating a lot more of that stew than we bargained for.”
Stephen stepped into Phillip’s office and handed his uncle a cup of coffee. “How’s the ankle?”
A pair of crutches leaned against the wall. His uncle’s foot was wrapped in several layers of elastic bandages. “The pain pills helped. I’m just thankful it’s a bad sprain and not a break. Oh, thanks for running me over to the hospital last night.”
“You know, none of this would’ve ever happened if Barbara hadn’t been so drunk.”
Phillip set his coffee down. “I know. She’s been quite a disruption to our routine, and she’s getting on Cora’s and Jeanette’s nerves, but…she needs a relaxing place to stay for a while. This isn’t going to go on forever. I’ve known her for a long time and—”
Stephen held up his hand. “Hey, you don’t owe me, or anyone else, an explanation. This is your house. You can invite anyone you want to come and stay here. You’re right, she’s done a pretty good job of getting under their skins. Hopefully, after last night’s episode, she’ll cut back on the booze and try to be a little more considerate of the people around her.”
Phillip smiled. “We can only hope.”
Jeanette entered with a plateful of fresh date bars. “More goodies from Cora.” She set them down on Phillip’s desk. “How’s the foot doing?”
“It’s okay. I hate those damn crutches. I almost killed myself coming down the stairs this morning.” He reached for a date bar. “Oh, could you look up the number for the Bed and Breakfast Cyrus is staying at? I meant to give him a call last night about the wedding.” He glanced down at his ankle. “But then we got waylaid with other things.”
“Sure. It’s on my desk. I’ll be right back.”
Phillip waited until Jeanette left. “I don’t know what I’d do without her. You know I took a chance with her. She answered an ad when she was just out of high school. No experience. There was something about her. She had determination. I’m so glad I went with my gut and hired her.”
Stephen grinned. “Me, too.”
Phillip sighed. “I wish there was something I could do for her mother. I’ve encouraged her to leave whenever she wants to, but you know Jeanette. She’s very dedicated.”
“She told me what you said, and believe me, she’s very appreciative. I think being here with us is good for her. It takes her mind off of what’s happening.”
Phillip nodded. “Good. Make sure she knows she’s free to go as needed.”
Jeanette’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. She returned and handed Phillip the number.
He dialed the phone and listened for someone to answer. “I’d like to be connected to Cyrus Bonaventure’s room, please.” He waited. “Elena? Is that you?” What’s the matter? Slow down. He what?” Phillip’s face tightened.
Something wasn’t right. In fact, based on his uncle’s tone, something was very wrong. Should he step outside and give him some privacy? Stephen glanced over at Jeanette. She was staring at Phillip. After a few minutes, she stood up and motioned for him to follow.
As they waited out in the hallway, Stephen said, “I don’t know what’s going on, but that conversation didn’t sound good.”
“I know. From the look Phillip had, I thought maybe we should give him a moment. Did you see the color drain from his face?”
Stephen nodded. “I know. It looked like he’d seen a ghost.” The door opened and Phillip asked them to come back into the room.
“What is it?” Stephen asked. “That didn’t sound like a very good call.”
Phillip pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “It wasn’t. Elena thinks Cyrus may have been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?” both Stephen and Jeanette called out.
Phillip nodded. “She said Cyrus went for a walk on the beach yesterday, but he never returned.”
“What are the police telling her?” Jeanette asked.
Phillip frowned. “That’s the crazy part. She hasn’t called them.”
“What?” Stephen said. “Why wouldn’t you call the police if you thought your husband got kidnapped?”
“I asked her the same question.” He paused. “Seems like she’s had some experience with kidnapping. Her father was taken in Mexico when she was a girl. The family brought in the authorities and it didn’t turn out well. They found her father’s body three days later.”
“But that wa
s Mexico…a long time ago,” Jeanette said.
Phillip waved his hand. “There’s more to the story, but we have to keep this quiet. Elena thinks Cyrus owes money to a bookie in L.A. I always knew he liked to play the horses, but it seems he may have gotten in over his head recently. She’s been trying to contact Irving to get together some money, but he’s not returning her calls.” Phillip wiped his face again. “That seems strange.”
“Who’s Irving?” Stephen asked.
“Irving Plotnick. Cyrus’s partner. Elena wants me to come down there.” He looked at his bandaged foot. “But with my ankle and these infernal crutches, I don’t think I’d be much good.”
Stephen said, “I’ll go.”
Jeanette’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Yes. Clearly Phillip can’t do it.” He turned to his uncle. “What do you think?”
Phillip thought for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea. Let me call Irving one more time and see if he can tell me anything more. If I don’t get hold of him, or if he can’t tell me something that makes me feel better, then you better go.”
###
Kitty Sovey fumbled with the buttons of her uniform top. She had three more to close, but her fingers weren’t cooperating. She glanced over at Paulie. “Get your pants on. We’ve got to sneak out of here.”
Paulie balanced on his left leg as he tried to push his other foot into his pant leg. It was hard maneuvering in the tiny broom closet. “Hold your horses.” His elbow smashed into a can of liquid soap. “Dammit.”
He zipped up his pants. Maybe he should grab her and start all over again. No, that wasn’t going to happen. He should be satisfied for the quickies they were able to sneak in every few days.
Kitty cracked open the door and looked up and down the corridor. “Looks good. I’m outta here. You wait a few minutes and then come out with a mop and bucket.”
The Monarch Graveyard Page 5
