Island of Last Resorts

by Mary Ellis

  With the caffeine of his third cup kicking in, Nate wanted to grab the old man by the neck. ‘Aren’t we still your guests, Mr Frazier?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Price, you are.’ Frazier slumped into his chair looking haggard. ‘Forgive the delay this morning. We had some unexpected activity on the south beach. Your breakfast will be here shortly.’

  Nate lifted his hands. ‘None of us is worried about food. We’re all here and ready to start. We’re down to two suspects – the lady ADA and the public defender, and one of them is a murderer. Bring them both here and let us question them. We’ll get the answers you want, but don’t let them out of your house. It’s time to stop playing games with this cat-and-mouse around the island.’ Nate all but shouted his final demand.

  Frazier startled, but recovered quickly. ‘As much as I’d like to honor your request, I can’t. When I checked on Miss Jacobs and Mr Ensley this morning, they weren’t in their rooms. Someone unlocked their doors and it wasn’t me.’ He stared at Nate with deeply shadowed, red-rimmed eyes.

  ‘Have you searched the house?’ asked Beth.

  ‘I have, and they’re not inside anywhere.’

  Nate scrambled to his feet. ‘Someone is working against you, Frazier.’

  ‘I realize that, Price, and I believe I’ve figured out who,’ Frazier shouted with equal venom.

  ‘Calm down,’ Michael said. ‘Shouting at each other won’t help the situation. It’s team one’s turn to search the island. Can we get on with it?’

  Nate inhaled a deep breath. ‘But without Nicki, since she isn’t feeling well. I want her to remain indoors today.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Price.’ Frazier’s tone became saccharine sweet. ‘In fact, all of team one will remain indoors. It will be team two, your lovely wife and Mrs Preston, who will bring the pair in for questioning.’

  ‘No,’ Nate and Michael shouted simultaneously.

  ‘Beth and Izzy were on the island yesterday,’ added Michael. ‘It’s our turn.’

  ‘This isn’t a game of ring-around-the-rosy in kindergarten. I make the rules in my game!’ Frazier motioned to Jonah Creery, who slapped the packet of photographs on the table. ‘Team one will study the pictures of Bob McDowell and that harlot, Jennifer Jacobs. That woman is no credit to the legal profession.’

  Nate forced a reasonable tone to his voice. ‘We don’t need to study a bunch of pictures to know those two were having an affair. It took my wife only one to figure it out. If Jennifer had been working with McDowell, then those two must’ve had a falling out. And Kurt Ensley is in trouble. Why can’t Michael and I look for her?’

  Frazier closed the distance between them in a few steps. ‘Because I don’t trust you two. You’re sneaky. I still think you and Preston killed Sanborn. My guards insist no one else was in that part of the island.’

  ‘But why would we? You’re the one with an axe to grind.’

  ‘I’ll find out why. In the meantime, you, Preston and Mrs Galen will remain here. Guards, subdue Price and Preston until their wives have had a chance to leave.’

  ‘What about our breakfast?’ Beth asked as guards closed in on Michael and Nate. ‘I’m frightfully hungry.’

  Frazier paused on his way to the door. ‘What you are is wily, Mrs Preston, but your cleverness won’t work with me. You and Isabelle will get something to eat after you bring in Miss Jacobs … alive! Either she or Ensley knows who paid the Fallons to kill my wife.’

  ‘What about Hunter?’ Nicki pushed to her feet.

  ‘What about him? You are getting truly tiresome, young lady.’

  ‘And you think you’re not?’ Nicki walked toward Frazier with clenched fists. ‘You’d better make sure my husband gets enough to eat and drink or I’ll make you very sorry.’

  Jonah Creery and several guards laughed, but their host did not. ‘As glad as I am you’ve broken from your stupor, don’t threaten me. Or you’ll find yourself in worse conditions than Hunter.’ Frazier ushered Beth and Izzy from the room, while Creery and the guards followed close at his heels.

  Nate, Michael, and Nicki were left alone with a packet of pictures and a carafe of cold coffee.

  Nate took hold of Nicki’s arm. ‘You shouldn’t bait someone with a screw loose.’

  She nodded, then looked him in the eye. ‘I know, but I meant what I said. I will make Frazier pay, even if I get thrown in a Georgia jail for a very long time.’

  ‘You won’t be going to jail alone, cousin, because I intend to help you.’

  ‘Count me in,’ Michael added. ‘But in the meantime, let’s learn what we can from these.’ He dumped the packet and spread the photos in front of them.

  Nate glared at the grainy photos. ‘Suppose so, until one of us comes up with a better idea.’

  Beth checked for her ace-up-her-sleeve before leaving their room in her heaviest coat. ‘This had better be our last tromp through the wilderness,’ she muttered when Izzy joined her on the back stoop. ‘I’m sick of the mud and insect bites and getting scratched by every thorn in the world.’ Beth tugged on her gloves and turned up her collar. ‘Not to mention finding two dead bodies.’

  ‘Yeah, not to mention that.’ Izzy stomped her feet to get the blood flowing. ‘Which way today, team leader, is our best shot at finding Jennifer?’

  ‘I guess we’ll head east, the same direction we went on Sunday, since either north or south spans the widest part of the island.’ Beth turned her focus skyward. ‘At least it doesn’t look like rain.’

  ‘Good, another day like yesterday and they’ll find me dead on the beach.’ Izzy started down the steps toward the back lawn.

  Beth couldn’t believe the change in Nate’s wife. The Isabelle Price she’d met in Natchez never would have said something so flip in light of so much death. But experiences like they’d had recently either made a person stronger and more resilient or left them broken and nearly catatonic like Nicki. As an ex-cop, Beth had seen people go both ways and was grateful Izzy had chosen the former and not the latter.

  As they had on Sunday, they checked the old stable first. But there were no signs anyone had been inside, except for some mice and a raccoon. Once they left the stable, Beth easily found the path to the east beach through the thickest foliage on the island. Since they couldn’t walk side by side, Izzy kept close behind her on the path. Often Beth halted and signaled for silence. Yet no matter how many times they stopped, neither heard any sound other than the wind or an occasional bird.

  ‘What do you think, Beth?’ Izzy asked when they resumed walking. ‘Did we pick a bad way to come?’

  Beth lifted and dropped her shoulders. ‘How could that lunatic expect us to find two potential murderers on an island this big?’ She hadn’t expected an answer and received none. But thirty minutes later, just as they heard the sound of waves breaking on shore, Beth also heard a crunch of twigs in the woods. Pivoting on her heel, she pressed a finger to her lips. ‘Listen,’ she whispered.

  Both women stood motionless for two or three minutes. About the time Beth thought she’d imagined the sound, footsteps came pounding up the path behind them. Beth and Izzy crouched down in the weeds just as a wild creature bolted past them – a wild creature that bore substantial resemblance to Jennifer Jacobs.

  ‘Wait, stop!’ Beth broke into a run behind the woman.

  And, surprisingly, the woman stopped. Panting, Jennifer dropped to her knees next to a massive tree and gulped for air. ‘Help … me … please,’ she begged.

  Beth stared at the woman. Her thick hair was matted and snarled, her face streaked with dirt and sweat. Her once-chic clothes were filthy and torn. Jennifer looked nothing like the young, beautiful professional in the photograph, sharing a glass of wine with her lover.

  ‘We’ll help you.’ Beth extended her hand. ‘I’m Beth Preston and that’s Isabelle Price. Let’s get you on your feet.’

  After a few gulps of air, Jennifer accepted Beth’s hand. ‘Please help me get off this island. Somebody’s after me – somebody
who wants to kill me.’

  ‘We know who you are and we’ll help, but we need to get you back to the house!’ Beth pulled her in the direction of the mansion.

  Jennifer yanked her hand free. ‘How do you know who I am?’

  ‘We’re private investigators sent to find you, but we’ll protect you from whoever wants to kill you.’

  ‘No way. Frazier wants you to bring me back.’ As soon as the words left her mouth, Jennifer bolted down the path toward the beach.

  Beth realized the stupidity of telling the truth too late. She sprinted after her, but Jennifer was in good shape and had a head start. Beth didn’t catch up until they reached the soft sand past the dunes. Then she lunged forward and tackled the former assistant prosecutor. ‘Stop!’ Beth yelled. ‘I swear we’re not going to hurt you.’

  Jennifer struggled to regain her footing, but Beth managed to pin down both wrists until Izzy caught up and threw her body across Jennifer’s midsection.

  ‘I know Bob McDowell is dead,’ Jennifer sputtered, ‘which means I am next. If you really want to help, don’t take me back to the house. Frazier blames me for his wife’s death, but I had nothing to do with it.’

  Beth pulled her into a sitting position, while Izzy made sure she wouldn’t get away. ‘OK, tell us your side of the story.’

  ‘I did everything possible to bring the Fallon brothers to justice, but I can’t prosecute without solid evidence. After Mack died of an overdose in county lockup, I had no choice but to ask the judge to drop the charges against the younger brother. We found none of Reuben’s prints in the bedroom or bathroom. The only proof we had Reuben was there that night was his prints on the wrench. And Chuck Sanborn made sure I had nothing to work with when the wrench was thrown out as evidence.’ She tried to shake the sand from her face and hair.

  ‘Detective Sanborn paid dearly for his poor job performance,’ Izzy said wryly.

  ‘I know he’s dead, along with Reuben Fallon, who’s been free all these years. Now with Bob dead, I will be next. I can’t go back to the house. Frazier has practically starved us. He barely gives us enough water to drink. You gotta help me,’ she pleaded, her dark eyes wild with fear. ‘I’m married and have a seven-year-old daughter. Are either of you mothers?’

  Izzy shifted some of her weight off the woman. ‘I’m a mother of a little boy, but giving birth doesn’t give you a free pass with Ariana Frazier’s murder.’

  Jennifer focused on Izzy. ‘I swear I had nothing to do with the break-in or murder of Mrs Frazier.’

  ‘We saw those photos of you and Bob McDowell.’ Izzy sounded like a PI instead of a part-time real-estate agent. ‘And we know that sleazy journalist was involved in this up to his eyebrows.’

  ‘Yeah, I had an affair with him,’ Jennifer admitted. ‘I was young and exceptionally naive when I moved to Atlanta after passing the bar exam. But if McDowell had a bigger agenda than smearing the Fraziers to boost ratings, I had no part in it.’

  Beth locked gazes with Izzy, who seemed to be buying the story, hook, line, and sinker. ‘Let’s say we believe you.’ Beth pulled the prosecutor to her feet. ‘Your best chance of survival is with us. There’s no way off this island – no boats, no jet skis, and no wave-runners.’

  ‘I know that. Bob talked me into trying to leave in a rowboat we found behind the dunes. I despise that man but I wanted off this island. We barely got a hundred feet away when the boat sank and we had to swim back. Someone had drilled holes in the bottom. Frazier’s guards were waiting for us on shore.’ Jennifer brushed the sand from her clothes. ‘Do you still have your cell phones? We need to contact the coastguard.’

  ‘No, they took them from us. The phones didn’t work anyway.’

  ‘What about a satellite phone? Nobody even knows I’m here,’ Jennifer wailed.

  ‘Who carries a sat-phone on vacation?’ Beth’s question dripped with sarcasm. ‘No. And we can’t send emails either. They took our laptops. According to Frazier, his landline was cut. So unless you’re unafraid of sharks and can swim back to St Simons, your best chance of survival is with us. Strength in numbers.’

  Jennifer wiped her runny nose on her sleeve and took one last look at the ocean. ‘You’ll protect me if I go back? All I want is to see my husband and daughter.’

  Izzy was first to speak. ‘Yes, you’ve got my word.’

  ‘You’ve got mine too,’ Beth added.

  And if she had planned to elaborate on her lofty promise, her opportunity was cut short by a sudden, sharp prick to her neck. The last thing Beth remembered was the sensation of falling and her world turning black.

  TEN

  Elysian Island. Wednesday p.m.

  Beth opened her eyes to blue sky with a few wispy clouds overhead. When she tried to raise her head, she tasted blood and felt a stabbing pain behind the eyes. Lifting up on her elbows, she retched in the sand and tried to regain her bearings. Then the memory of searching the island and finding Jennifer flooded back. Despite the pain in her head, Beth forced herself to look left and right.

  Isabelle Price was on her belly in the wet sand with her head cocked oddly to one side. And she wasn’t moving.

  ‘Izzy!’ Beth pushed to her knees, then to her feet, and staggered over to her friend. She rolled Izzy on her back and pressed her ear to Izzy’s chest. Hearing the faint thrum of her heart, Beth pulled the limp woman into her arms. ‘What on earth happened?’ she asked, tucking a lock of damp hair behind Izzy’s ear. When she got no response, Beth checked Izzy’s mouth and nose for sand and shook her gently, all to no avail. Finally, Beth slapped Izzy on the back several times. But nothing roused her teammate to consciousness.

  ‘Help!’ she screamed at the top of her lungs. Over and over Beth shouted for help. Not only did no one answer her, Beth didn’t hear a sound in any direction. But she did spot footprints – lots of them – around the area where Izzy had lain in the sand.

  Beth checked her friend’s pulse once more and then followed the footprints to a tangled pile of driftwood near the dunes. Amidst the bleached-white branches and drying seaweed lay the corpse of the assistant prosecutor of Atlanta. There was no question that it was Jennifer Jacobs and no question she was dead. Her brown eyes stared sightlessly at the sky, still waiting for help that wouldn’t arrive in time.

  Very carefully, Beth turned the body far enough to spot two gunshot wounds – one on the left which had probably pierced her lung and a second to the right of her spine, which most likely struck her heart. Small-caliber bullet, no exit wounds. Beth studied the footprints and trail of blood in the sand. Someone had shot Jennifer in the back as she ran – someone who was a fairly good shot. Jennifer had staggered forward and died atop the pile of twisted tree limbs.

  Like the trained former cop she was, Beth checked the area around the body, careful not to corrupt the crime scene. Lying in the sand twenty feet from the driftwood was a handgun, probably cast off by the murderer in haste. A small handgun, the kind that fits nicely into an ankle holster. With a bad taste in her mouth, Beth pulled up her right pant leg to reveal an empty holster. Her Ruger .380 semi-automatic was gone.

  ‘Nooo!’ She let out a howl that could’ve been heard on the mainland. Heedless of the need to preserve the crime scene, Beth ran to the gun and plucked it from the sand, obliterating several footprints along the way.

  It was a Ruger .380.

  It was her gun, no doubt about it.

  Beth checked the clip and the chamber. Empty of all seven bullets, except for the three in Jennifer’s back. Suddenly Beth felt weak in the knees and sick to her stomach. For the second time that day, she retched in the sand, further compromising the crime scene.

  Someone followed us to the beach and shot Jennifer with my gun?

  No one knew about my second weapon except for Izzy and Michael, and those two would die before telling a soul.

  The thought of Isabelle brought Beth to her feet. But before she could return to her friend, several black-clad guards stepped from the br
ush and surrounded her, their automatic weapons aimed at her chest.

  ‘What have we here?’ Jonah Creery sauntered through the tall grass like he’d been strolling in a park. ‘Beth Preston, with a smoking gun in her hand. I’m not sure if Julian will throw you in the dungeon with Hunter Galen, or give you the other special place we set aside.’ Creery chortled like a lunatic.

  Beth pointed her weapon at him. ‘I didn’t shoot anyone. You had better tell your goons to lower their weapons or I’ll put an extra hole in your head.’

  This time his laugh was less convincing. ‘Shoot away, Beth. You can’t do much damage with an empty Ruger.’ Creery nodded to the guards.

  ‘How would you know that,’ Beth sneered, ‘if I was the one who shot Jennifer Jacobs?’

  In a flash two snapped handcuffs on her wrists, while another tethered her ankles together with a short cord. She’d be able to shuffle along but not run.

  Creery got right in her face. ‘Because my guards and I heard you arguing with Miss Jacobs in the forest. By the time we got to the beach, we found Mrs Price out cold and the ADA gone. You must have emptied your gun into Miss Jacob’s back when she tried to run. You’re not a very good shot, are you?’ His smile could’ve turned water into ice. ‘Pretty heartless for a former Natchez Police detective.’

  ‘Actually, I’m a crack shot.’ Beth struggled against her restraints. ‘And what do you mean by your guards? I thought Mr Frazier hired the mercenaries for security.’

  ‘Mine, Julian’s, just a matter of semantics. He and I are on the same side.’ Creery glanced at his watch. ‘Take Mrs Preston back to the house. It’s almost the cocktail hour and I don’t want to miss any of Mrs Norville’s canapés.’ He turned on a heel and started walking.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Beth kicked and fought with all her strength. ‘We can’t leave Isabelle. She’s back there on the beach and needs medical help. Please!’ she begged.

  Creery paused to consider. ‘Julian is awfully fond of her. Of course, he always was partial to blondes.’ He spoke more to himself than anyone. ‘Very well, I’ll send the team back for her. But right now I need them to make sure you don’t get away.’