Island of Last Resorts

by Mary Ellis

  Beth grinned. ‘I wasn’t the least bit offended, but for a different reason. I know Nate. Not as well as you do, but I know he’s always strategizing. He didn’t want us separated. If we’re ever to gain the upper hand with Frazier, we must keep everyone together.’ Beth glanced over at the woman she barely knew. ‘I was afraid you might be mad.’

  ‘Because of Frazier’s remark about keeping me barefoot and chained to the stove?’ Izzy’s laugh sent birds soaring from a nearby tree. ‘Truth is I love going barefoot and I love to cook. Why should anyone be offended by the truth?’

  ‘You’ve got a great attitude.’ Beth slapped her teammate on the back.

  ‘I’m not at all like Nate described me, huh?’

  ‘Man, how should I answer that? I think I’ll plead the fifth.’

  For the next hour, the two women talked and laughed and joked about the quirkiness of married life. They had so much fun getting to know one another, they almost forgot they were captives in a mystery skit gone wrong.

  ‘Stop for a moment.’ Beth held up her hand. ‘Did you hear that?’

  Izzy halted in midstride. ‘Waves,’ she exclaimed.

  Both women ran through the tall grass until they reached the dunes protecting what had to be the prettiest beach on Elysian Island. Judging by wet marks left in the sand, high tide never left less than fifty yards of beach. Uprooted trees, weathered by strong winds and shifting sand, created works of art along the shore.

  Beth admired the beach in both directions. ‘Too bad more people can’t enjoy this little piece of paradise.’

  ‘True, but without Mr Frazier’s restrictions, maybe this piece of paradise would soon disappear.’ Izzy dug a shell from the sand with her toe. ‘OK, now that I’m taking the side of a madman, which way should we head?’

  Beth again considered the sun’s position. ‘If we go to the right, we should come around to the dock where Michael and Nate were yesterday.’

  ‘And the path to the house where they found Sanborn hanging from a tree?’ Izzy shivered in the cool breeze.

  ‘Yeah, but the other way will bring us around to where we found Reuben Fallon with a cracked skull.’

  Izzy met Beth’s gaze. ‘Let’s go right,’ Izzy said without hesitation.

  But their journey in that direction was neither long nor arduous. Within five minutes, they rounded an uprooted tree which had washed ashore during the last storm. Its bare and twisted limbs reached for the sky as though in supplication, while powdery sand whorled and eddied at its feet. Bits of Spanish moss stubbornly clung to branches against the strong offshore breeze. Yet it wasn’t the macabre dead tree which chilled the blood in their veins. Someone was buried in the sand, similar to how children play with buckets and shovels. Yet, unlike a hapless Dad with sand up to his chest, this victim was face down with his head completely covered, while his legs and torso had been left exposed.

  Instantly Beth and Izzy closed the distance, dropped to their knees and began to dig. Frantically they pawed sand away from his head and neck until they could turn the man over.

  ‘Now what should we do?’ cried Izzy, brushing sand from his face.

  Beth took one look at the man’s lifeless, open eyes and knew the answer. Nevertheless, she tried to clear sand from his mouth and then listened at his chest for several minutes.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ Beth finally answered. ‘I believe there’s sand in his airway and he suffocated.’

  ‘Which one of the suspects is this?’ Tears ran down Izzy’s cheeks.

  ‘If I had to guess, I’d say this is the Atlanta reporter, Bob McDowell.’ Beth sat back on her heels, focusing on seagulls wheeling in air currents offshore. Every now and then a seagull dove straight into the waves and came up with lunch.

  However, Izzy continued to clean every bit of sand from the reporter’s face and shirt.

  ‘We’re too late, Izzy.’ Beth took hold of her arm. ‘The guy is dead.’

  ‘I know that.’ She yanked her arm back. ‘But there’s something tucked inside his shirt.’ In short order, Izzy removed a manila packet that had been pinned to his undershirt.

  Shaking off the last bit of sand, Izzy pulled out a stack of photos. Beth picked up the top picture to study. ‘It’s our dead guy and I’ll bet that’s the lady assistant prosecutor we saw at the first dinner.’ In the photo, the pair looked to be deep in conversation in someone’s office. The professionally dressed woman was smiling rather fondly at the man.

  ‘I’ll take that stack of photos, Mrs Price,’ said a voice over Izzy’s shoulder.

  ‘Jonah Creery, why am I not surprised? You seem to turn up wherever there’s a body.’ Beth jumped to her feet. ‘Where’s your merry band of henchmen?’

  ‘They will be here shortly.’ Creery’s phony smile was short-lived. ‘Let’s just say I got a head start because I knew where the ADA and her former lover have been hanging out, trying to escape. The photos, please?’ He held out his hand. ‘You’ll be able to study them soon.’

  Rising to her feet, Izzy handed him the packet.

  Reluctantly, Beth took a last look before giving Creery her photo too. ‘You and Frazier will never get away with killing these people. People know where we are and eventually they’ll come looking for us.’

  ‘You are such a thick-headed woman, Beth. I don’t know how Michael puts up with you.’ Creery rolled his eyes. ‘Mr Frazier and I haven’t killed anyone. You still don’t get it? The suspect who paid for the hit doesn’t want anyone to talk. Whenever he – or she – gets a chance, they’re eliminating the other suspects one by one.’

  Beth would have liked to knock the obnoxious man down, but the guards had reached their spot on the beach. ‘Now we’re down to the last two. Which do you think it is?’ she asked Creery.

  ‘My money’s on the sleazy lawyer. Funny how Hunter Galen hired a former Atlanta public defender to handle his New Orleans legal work. Sleaze does love to stick together.’ Creery motioned the guards toward Beth and Izzy. ‘Tether the two women together. We don’t want either of them getting lost on the way back.’

  ‘What about him?’ Izzy pointed at the corpse. ‘We can’t just leave him here. What if the tide comes up this far?’

  ‘Oh, but we can, Isabelle. You should know by now that we leave the crime scene as we found it. Eventually the police will get here.’ With a sneer, he motioned to the guards. ‘Make sure their ropes are tight.’

  And so team two began the long trek back to the house without Beth seeing the remotest possibility of escape.

  When the door opened and his wife entered their suite, Nate ran to greet her. ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, just another dead body on the beach.’ Looking exhausted and frighteningly pale, Izzy peered up with watery eyes. ‘Someone suffocated that TV reporter by burying his head in the sand. What a horrible way to die! How could anyone do something so cruel?’ Izzy crumbled like a ragdoll against his chest.

  Nate swept his wife up in his arms and laid her on the bed. ‘I’m so sorry I put you through this … that I put all of you through this.’

  Izzy shook her head. ‘This isn’t your fault. You took a rich, successful businessman at his word, and why wouldn’t you? Frazier was also a friend of Mrs Baer and we know she’s an upright person.’ Izzy swept the hair back from his face. ‘I don’t want you blaming yourself, no matter what the outcome. Psychopaths, sociopaths – whatever you call people like Frazier – can’t be predicted. We just need to figure out whether the killer is the ADA or Hunter’s lawyer.’

  ‘Are you sure it was Bob McDowell, the journalist who sensationalized the murder and publicly smeared the Fraziers?’

  ‘If that’s the guy’s name then “yes.” When Beth and I found the body, there was a packet of photos pinned to his undershirt. In one picture McDowell had a camera around his neck and he was standing with a woman in heels and a business suit. I’m betting it was the journalist and the assistant district attorne
y.’

  ‘Where are those pictures now, Izzy?’

  ‘That creepy Jonah Creery showed up and took them from us. Funny how that guy seems to be lurking around every tree on an overgrown nature preserve.’

  ‘Yeah, funny indeed. Either Creery followed you and Beth when you left the mansion, which wouldn’t be hard to do, or he simply staked out a place he thought you would eventually find.’

  ‘I can’t imagine that Creery followed us. We didn’t even take a path this time. We just headed south through the woods and across the fields until we reached the ocean. But I also can’t believe Creery staked out a certain spot, hoping we’d find it. This island is much longer, north and south, than it is wide, and altogether bigger than we thought. But I’ll tell you one thing – I doubt the killer is Frazier and his assistant. And Creery acting alone makes no sense. What motive would he have? It’s got to be the ADA, either alone or in cahoots with the public defender. Judging by the picture, they knew each well, and could have had a falling out.’ Izzy settled back against the pillows. ‘Now let me rest. I am tired beyond words.’

  When she closed her eyes, Nate rubbed her feet like they were at home in Natchez, which seemed like a lifetime ago. But they weren’t at home. They were trapped on an island as remote as the Amazon rainforest.

  The next thing he knew, Izzy was shaking his arm. ‘Wake up, Nate. We’d better get ready for dinner.’ She scooted to the edge of the bed and headed to the bathroom. ‘I need a long hot shower. Then tell me what your team learned from your clue.’

  When Izzy closed the bathroom door, Nate poured himself a stiff drink from the decanter. We are gerbils caught inside a maze, waiting for Frazier to toss us scraps of bread. The visual image did nothing to quell his anxiety.

  When guards escorted them to their fourth dinner on the island, Jonah Creery was waiting at the door with Beth and Michael. ‘Good evening, Mr and Mrs Price. We’re just waiting for Mrs Galen. Ah, here she comes now.’

  Nicki fought against the guard’s grip on her arm all the way to the dining room.

  ‘I’ll see you later, Nicolette,’ the guard said sweetly. ‘Maybe I’ll stop by at bedtime to tuck you in.’ Then he puckered up and blew her a kiss.

  Nate recognized the same creep he’d tangled with earlier. When he reached out to grab the guard’s shirt, his cousin got in his face.

  ‘Don’t, Nate!’ Nicki demanded. ‘He’s trying to bait you. He wants an excuse to hurt you badly.’

  ‘But what if—’ Nate began.

  Creery interrupted his question. ‘I’ll see that he doesn’t.’ Creery shot a dagger look at the guard. ‘Supper will be delayed tonight, but Mr Frazier will join you later when it’s served. In the meantime, you’ll find libations to take the rough edges off your day.’ Creery unlocked the door and practically pushed the five of them inside.

  ‘Notice anything different about the dining room?’ Nate asked when he heard the lock click.

  ‘Yeah, we’re alone.’ Michael walked to the windows overlooking the garden. ‘No guards watching us tonight.’

  ‘What difference does it make?’ Nicki whined. ‘Maybe they finally realize we can’t get out and can’t find anything in here we could use. There aren’t even any butter knives on the table.’ Nicki poured a glass of wine from an open bottle. ‘Wine anyone? Beth, Izzy? However, the brand is a definite step down from Sunday’s.’

  ‘I will,’ Beth chimed.

  ‘Me, too,’ said Izzy. ‘But let’s stick to one glass each and no more.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Nate added. ‘I don’t want anyone getting tipsy tonight. Too much is at stake.’

  For the second time, Nicki got in his face. ‘Too much at stake? The outcome will be the same whether we’re half-in-the-bag or stone-cold sober. Frazier isn’t letting any of us leave this island alive.’ She filled her wine glass to the rim.

  ‘We don’t know that, cousin.’ Nate tried to put an arm around her shoulder.

  But she batted him away like a gnat. ‘I know I’m taking an empty wine bottle to my room tonight, just in case that guard pays me a bedtime visit.’

  Nate’s blood pressure shot up. ‘I thought that guard was just baiting us?’

  ‘He was, but I still don’t want to take any chances.’ Nicki filled the other two glasses to the rim too.

  ‘There’s got to be something in a dining room we can arm ourselves with.’ Nate stomped over to the china cabinet and began to rummage. ‘Silverware, an iron trivet – look for anything.’

  ‘We wouldn’t stand a chance against automatic weapons.’ Izzy pleaded with him. ‘Let’s just do what we’re supposed to – sit down and compare notes.’

  Ignoring her, Nate rummaged through drawer after drawer. He found candles but no matches; plenty of spoons but no knives or forks, and enough fancy tablecloths to host a wedding reception.

  ‘Hey, boss, maybe you should listen to your wife.’ Michael pulled out the chair next to his. ‘Seriously, come over and have a seat.’

  As much as he hated feeling so helpless, he hated being this out of control more. Nate closed the drawers and sauntered back to the table. ‘Since my wife is stunningly beautiful besides brilliant, I think I’ll sit with her.’ Nate took the chair next to Izzy’s.

  ‘OK, but then you won’t get to see the hidden microphone in the candelabra. It just wasn’t hidden well enough.’ Michael plucked a tiny piece of electronics from the silver filigree. ‘Everything we’ve said in here has been listened to by someone out there.’ He gestured toward the door.

  Beth plucked the microphone from her husband’s fingers, dropped it on the rug and stomped it with her boot heel. ‘Guess we know why no guards are in here with us.’

  The team barely had a chance to consider Beth’s actions when the doors opened. In marched Mr Frazier with his sidekick, Creery, and half a dozen mercenaries. ‘Good evening, everyone,’ Frazier murmured. ‘Forgive me for keeping you waiting.’ Their host took his usual place of honor at the table.

  Creery, however, walked straight to Beth. ‘I just bought that device, Mrs Preston. You owe me two hundred bucks, and I will swipe your credit card before you leave the island.’

  Beth blinked like an owl. ‘Sure, Jonah, whatever you say.’

  Frazier cleared his throat. ‘With that settled, why don’t we get down to business? I’m quite sure Nate and Michael heard from their spouses about Mr McDowell’s untimely death on the beach. Untimely, but not unfortunate, since he was scum.’ Frazier glanced around to see if anyone would disagree. No one did. ‘Isabelle, for the benefit of Mrs Galen, would you please explain what you and Beth found on your morning walk?’

  Izzy took a sip of wine, coughed, and then gave Nicki a brief summary of how and where the reporter died. In an attempt to protect Nicki’s fragile state, Izzy omitted many of the graphic details. When she finished, everyone gave Nicki a moment to process.

  ‘So, the reporter’s dead,’ Nicki murmured. ‘You took your revenge on the man who smeared your wife’s reputation.’ Her shoulders began to shake. ‘And that just leaves the lady prosecutor and Hunter’s lawyer … and us. I bet you’ll save us for last.’

  ‘Please, Nicki, pull yourself together.’ Nate feared Frazier’s wrath on his cousin if she lost control again.

  But surprisingly, Frazier looked on Nicki with pity. ‘It’s all right, Mr Price. Perhaps Mrs Galen isn’t used to being alone this much and having to process events without her husband’s help. I will excuse her rudeness this time.’ Frazier poured himself a small amount of bourbon and pressed the button on his chair. ‘Mr Creery, if you’d be kind enough to ready the videotape of McDowell for the benefit of team two. Before they too think the reporter undeserving of his fate, I’d like Isabelle and Beth to view what team one saw this morning.’

  As the door opened, Mrs Norville carried in a huge copper pot which she set on the marble top breakfront. Her son followed close behind with a basket covered with a checkered cloth.

  ‘Tonight’s dinner
will be cubed sirloin of beef with new potatoes, heirloom carrots, turnips, onions, and frozen peas, which is just a fancy way of describing beef stew.’ Frazier chuckled at his joke. ‘But Mrs Norville also baked fresh bread and made rhubarb pie for dessert. My cook might have forgiven you after all.’

  Izzy rose to her feet. ‘Thank you, Mrs Norville. Beef stew is one of my favorite meals. I make it often at home.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said the middle-aged woman on her way out.

  Frazier downed his drink in a single gulp. ‘Bon appétit, Price team. If you don’t mind, I won’t stay for the final showing of McDowell’s vitriol. I’ve watched it too many times already.’

  ‘What about the photos of the reporter and the Atlanta prosecutor?’ Nate asked. ‘Izzy and Beth were told we would see them later.’

  ‘Is that what Mr Creery told them?’ Frazier turned to frown at his assistant. ‘In that case, you’ll see them tomorrow at breakfast.’ He slammed down his empty glass and strode from the room.

  This time the guards remained in the dining room while Nate and his employees ate dinner and watched the videotape of Bob McDowell. The beef stew tasted much better than anyone expected and the fresh bread and rhubarb pie were downright delicious. However, the videotape did not improve with additional viewings. When Nate switched off the machine, he locked gazes with his wife.

  ‘I don’t feel quite so sorry for the reporter anymore,’ Izzy said, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

  ‘Me neither.’ Beth refilled her glass with wine. ‘But now we’re down to two suspects – the lady prosecutor and Hunter’s lawyer. What were their names?’

  Nate pulled out his small notebook. ‘According to the court transcript, the ADA was Jennifer Jacobs.’ He flipped back a few pages. ‘But I don’t remember the name of Fallon’s public defender. Nicki, what’s the name of Hunter’s lawyer?’

  ‘Who?’ His cousin peered up from her half-eaten bowl of stew. ‘Ensley,’ Nicki said after Nate repeated the question a second time. ‘Kyle or Kevin or something like that.’ She returned to her bowl of stew.

  ‘OK,’ continued Beth. ‘So the killer is either Jennifer Jacobs or this Ensley guy. I’m guessing one or the other withheld evidence.’