They walked a few more minutes in silence before Van spoke again. “I noticed that Marla can be quite charming when she wants to be.”
Jean snorted. “I was hoping you weren’t paying attention when she was coming on to all the guys at the picnic—especially Ryan. I don’t understand why she has to act so cheap. I said something to her about it afterwards. Unless she sees a ring, she figures any guy is fair game. I will have to say, for all Ryan’s faults, he did seem to be completely smitten with you. He sidestepped Marla’s advances rather nicely—wasn’t interested in her at all. Besides, what does Marla have that you don’t have? Honestly, jaded as I am, I was almost rooting for him. He did make you happy.”
Van looked at Jean and cracked up. “It’s not working, but thanks anyway.”
“You’re welcome. You worry too much. You can’t change fate. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. Maybe we haven’t seen his true colors yet.”
Van gave no reply as they turned down a short side street to begin the return trip back up along the boardwalk. This end of town was quiet and deserted, the only sound a yapping dog in the distance.
“Jean, did you ever wish really hard for something that you wanted, and then when you got it, it wasn’t quite what you expected—and maybe you weren’t prepared to pay the price?”
“Hah! Haven’t we all?”
“I think it’s happened to …” Van’s voice trailed off, and she stopped walking. “What is all that commotion?”
They both stopped and peered around the corner. A hundred yards down the street, a crowd of people had gathered around two ambulances pulled up on the boardwalk, their lights firing the storefronts with an eerie, garish blue. There was a flurry of activity up and down the boardwalk. Gradually, as their eyes became accustomed to the pulsating lights, they could make out the form of a small white dog running frantically around the edge of the crowd.
Jean grabbed Van’s arm. “Isn’t that Susie, Ernest Pickett’s dog?” She clapped and called until she caught the little dog’s attention. The dog stopped momentarily before running straight for Jean, who grabbed the leash she was trailing, and scooped her up into her arms. “What are you doing out here alone, baby?” Where’s Daddy, huh? Aw, look, her name is on her collar in a little heart.”
“Don’t let her go, Jean. I’m sure Mr. Pickett will see us coming long before we see him. Come on, I want to see what’s going on up here.”
As the women drew closer, they got a better look at the small crowd gathered around the ambulances, their faces illuminated in the flashing beacons. Van tried to inch closer, but the gawkers and response personnel were holding a tight perimeter.
“Oh, my, they’re pulling a body out,” Van whispered to Jean. “Who is it?”
An older man turned and addressed her. “We think it’s one of those men down from New York.”
Van buckled at the knees and grasped at Jean’s sleeve to keep from going down. “Oh, dear God, is it Ryan? Not now, God! Don’t do this to me again!” She tried to push her way through the crowd to get a glimpse of the figure on the stretcher, but it was no use. Feeling suddenly nauseated, she put her hands on her knees.
“I’ve got to call Ryan,” she said. “Oh, God, please don’t let it be him. Please. Jean, help me move away from here. Please?”
They backed out of the crowd as Van frantically dialed Ryan’s cell phone. “Come on, answer!”
Ryan answered on the third ring.
“Ryan! Thank God you’re okay!”
“I’m about as okay as can be expected. I wasn’t sure we’d be talking again before I left. Van, I’m sorry I walked off like that, but I just don’t know what else to say to you.”
“Ryan, I had this horrible feeling …”
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Where are you?” she asked him.
“At the motel. Tell me what’s wrong, Van.”
“Hector—where’s Hector?”
“He’s not here. Van! No more information from me. What is wrong?”
“I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m okay. Hector, he’s … I think they just pulled his body out of the water near Betty’s bakery. I think he’s dead, Ryan.”
Silence.
“Ryan? Hello? Are you still there?”
“That’s impossible. He was alive and well when I last saw him. A little bruised, but otherwise healthy.”
“What do you mean, bruised?”
More silence.
“Ryan, answer me. What did you do?”
“Relax. He mouthed off about you, and I hauled off and shoved him. That’s it, nothing sinister. How do you know it was Hector? You’re positive?”
“Well, no, not really. I, uh, actually, I was afraid it was you. They were pulling the body out of the water, and someone said it was one of the men from New York. I was so afraid it was you.” She tried to keep her feelings in check, but her eyes were rapidly filling with tears.
“Are you at home?”
“No, I’m down near Betty’s. Jean is with me. We went for a walk, and as we were coming back around the loop we saw all kinds of activity down at the water. Curiosity got the better of us, so we went closer to see what was going on.”
“Van, listen to me and do exactly what I say. Go home. Don’t come out or open your door to anyone you don’t know. Not until I come get you. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand! What’s going on? Tell me!”
“Look, just do as I say. Trust me. Can you trust me? I’ll explain everything later, I promise. Now, hurry up and go home.”
There was dead silence on the phone as Van weighed Ryan’s urgent words against her need to know more.
“Damn it, Van! Please just trust me. Go!” At this point, he was shouting into the phone.
Van’s feet and mind finally began to work in concert. “Okay, but you need to explain later. I have trust issues with you.”
“I promise. I have to go.” The phone went dead.
Jean gave Van a hug and said, “There’s a fine line between love and hate. And you, hon, have got to pick a side.”
Van pushed away from Jean and wiped her eyes and nose. “It’ll be okay. Let’s get home. This is too crazy a night to be out. Keep hold of Susie. We can drop her by Mr. Pickett’s house. I can’t imagine why she’s running loose. He must be out of his mind with worry. He never goes anywhere without her.”
Their repeated knocks on Pickett’s door went unanswered despite the blaze of interior lights. They walked on to Van’s house, where they wrote a note to leave on the screen door. They half expected to see him back home when they returned to leave the note, but still no Pickett, so Van had little choice but to take Susie home with her for the night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A SHADE INSIDE
Ryan grabbed his wallet and keys on the fly and headed out the door. He was confused. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Van; he just couldn’t wrap his head around why. If it was Hector, it was probably not an accident, and definitely not a crime of opportunity. It had to be HYA related. Although rare, it wasn’t unheard of for HYA to lose someone due to the dark nature of some of the business’s dealings. The aftermath was always handled quietly and discreetly. Life went on, and the business went on. But Hector? If the boss’s son was dead, then it was a safe bet that Ryan was next on the list. He took a few steps out the door and then returned to his room, pulled a small five-shot revolver out of the bottom of his dopp kit, and shoved it into his pants pocket.
Ryan didn’t have to travel very far before he could see the lights of the emergency vehicles flashing at the far end of the boardwalk. No police tape yet—that was a plus. Experience had taught him that if he acted as though he belonged there, he could likely get as close as he needed. He put his head down and pushed his way through the crowd of bystanders, toward the nearer ambulance, where an EMT stood talking on his cell phone.
“… getting ready to transport one white male, deceased, tentatively identified from wallet found on the body a
s one Hector Young, age thirty-two, resident New York City.”
Ryan grabbed the EMT by the arm and pulled the phone away. “Did you say Hector Young?” I know him. He’s my business partner. Where is he? Is he all right?”
The EMT yanked his arm away from Ryan’s grasp and put the phone back up to his ear. “We’ll call on our way … Understood. Later.” He shifted his attention on Ryan. “No, not all right. You’re an acquaintance of the deceased? You can ID the body? Come with me.” Ryan was pushed and pulled through the tight crowd to a stretcher with a body on it, covered by a sheet.
The EMT said to the policeman standing guard over the body, “Give us a look, McCall. This is a business associate,” he said, nodding in Ryan’s direction. “He may be able to make a positive ID.”
“I don’t know how much more you need. He had identification on him,” the policeman said, pulling the sheet back from the face of the corpse.
Ryan leaned forward, then quickly looked away. “Yes, that’s Hector Young,” he said. “What happened?”
“Don’t know. We were responding to another emergency here earlier in the evening when we were alerted to a body in the water. When was the last time you saw or spoke to Mr. Young?” asked the policeman.
“I was talking to him down here, oh, I don’t know, maybe four o’clock yesterday. I can’t imagine what happened.”
“There is some bruising on the body, so right now we aren’t ruling out foul play. Don’t worry, in a town this small, we’ll have it solved soon enough. Isn’t too much that’s a secret around here.” Officer McCall gave Ryan a long, thoughtful stare that brought goose bumps to Ryan’s arms. McCall pulled a notebook out of his pocket. A little too late, Ryan decided that the less he said, the better.
“I need to get your name and phone number in case we have any questions for you later,” the cop said. “And hey, with that accent, don’t plan on leaving town right now. New York is just a little bit far to have a friendly talk—know what I mean?”
Officer McCall straightened and turned at the call of his name from across the boardwalk. “Okay, let’s get this body out of here,” he said. “I’d like to have my supper before midnight.”
First chance he got, Ryan moved quickly back to his car. He wasn’t sure what he had walked into, but it wasn’t good, and he seemed to have placed himself squarely in the middle of it. Maybe he shouldn’t have made himself so visible. Shit. He checked his rearview mirror, but he was alone on the road. Maybe he had a little time. He headed for Van’s house, where he could think things through. He had never prepared himself for anything like this.
He didn’t see anything unusual on the street as he pulled slightly past the driveway and parked. Van opened the door before he even knocked.
“Ryan, thank God, I was so worried,” she said, throwing her arms around him and pulling him inside. Then she remembered that she was still angry with him, and she drew away and locked the door behind him. “You’re as white as a sheet. What happened?”
“I just got done identifying the body.”
“Poor Hector,” she said. “I can’t say we hit it off, but I would never wish this on him or anyone else.”
“Things are a little more complicated than I expected. Once they begin interviewing witnesses I think they’re going to come looking for me.”
“Ryan, you didn’t …”
“Kill him? Heavens no—much as I would have liked to—but I did threaten to, in front of witnesses, on the boardwalk earlier tonight.”
“Why on earth would you do something that stupid?”
“I know, I know,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “Hector knew exactly how to push my buttons.” He hesitated and then let out a sigh of resignation. “I threatened to kill him if he spouted off about you anymore.” He looked at Van and then quickly looked away.
“Oh … I see.”
“Look, would it be okay if I crashed here tonight? This isn’t the first place anyone would think to look for me. I need some time to think before anyone knows where I am.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, leading him into the living room. “But you could just tell the police the truth: that you were angry. That’s what honest people do. Once they find out what kind of jerk Hector was I’m sure they’ll understand. There must be any number of people he rubbed the wrong way. It’s better to have the authorities on your side than to be working at odds with them.” She paused, as if considering this. “But then again, you do seem to have things to hide. You have to tell me something.”
Sitting down beside her on the couch, he said, “As you may have figured out by now, Hector and I are in a very dirty business. When you work just inside the law, you try very hard to keep the authorities out of your daily activities. I don’t know what is going on right now, except that I’m in way over my head. And if I want to live to see my grandkids, I’ve got to figure out who killed Hector, and why. I can’t just spill my guts to the police. HYA doesn’t tolerate screw-ups, or anything or anybody that gives them unwanted attention. They’re very good and they’re subtle.
“Van, there are a lot of things I should tell you, but the less you know right now, the better. I don’t want to get you any more involved than you are already. That’s the only way I can protect you. I know there are problems between us, and I’m sorry about the way I left you the other night. But right now I don’t have anyone I can trust but you. If it matters at all, my feelings for you haven’t changed.”
Van didn’t try to hide any of the animosity that she was feeling toward Ryan. It was a coldness that she usually reserved for Richard. “If you are being honest with me, Ryan, and you really care about me and about Nevis, I’ll help you … if you help me. Help me stop these people from buying Nevis and turning it into a yuppie parking lot. Then we can talk about feelings.”
“Van, it’s too late. You and all these people in town, you don’t have clear title to the property in Nevis. The original land deed is set up as a colonial lease. Your families have been renting for hundreds of years and probably didn’t even realize it. Even if Hector Young can’t buy properties outright, all HYA has to do is find the descendant who legally owns the land and throw more money at him than he could ever dream of. He’ll sell. Van, it’s not a level playing field. They have an unlimited supply of money.”
“That doesn’t make sense. My grandparents owned this house free and clear. If they had been paying, it would have shown up somewhere.”
“Not necessarily. The amount was very small, and the payments have probably been hidden in something like a yearly tax bill.”
“Look, Ryan. It’s not that I don’t have sympathy for the predicament you’re in, but I expect you to do right by Nevis if you want any sort of relationship with me. You can’t have it both ways. You want me to protect you, but I don’t see you protecting me and mine. I don’t care how you fix it—just do it. Then maybe I can believe in you again. Are we clear about that?”
“I understand. I know you don’t trust me. But everything I’ve told you is true, and I am doing my best to protect you. I won’t leave you high and dry. I promise.”
Those were Ryan’s final words to Van. By the time she got up early the next morning, he was gone. No note, no nothing. She should have realized she couldn’t trust him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EXPENDABLES
Ryan left Van’s house early in the morning and walked down to the isolated far end of the boardwalk, where he sat down on one of the benches. Rolled up in his hand was the land deed to the town of Nevis. Success was literally at his trembling fingertips. With the deed, the buyout was a fait accompli, his place at the firm assured. This would be the biggest land buyout in the history of the company. He could already feel the congratulatory pats on the back, already taste the partnership and all the perks that came with it. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and wished it were that simple. How the hell was he going to get out of the mess he was in? He was an impostor, a few steps ahead of the law, and an
object of contempt to the only person who really knew and cared about him.
There could be no going back to HYA. He was beginning to loathe everything it stood for. These were nice people in Nevis, who had welcomed him with open, trusting arms. And he had abused that trust while smiling to their faces. His actions were despicable. He wanted to be the man who Van thought he was—the kind of man who, he now realized, he had been in his previous life—and, God willing, might possibly be again.
If he stayed in Nevis, it would be only a matter of time before the police came looking for him with more questions than he could safely answer. By the time they got done with him, jail time was a real possibility. And all things considered, jail might not be such a bad fate, he mused darkly. It might be preferable to the swift, murderous wrath of HYA once he started singing.
Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out the angel coin that Van had given back to him. He ran his fingernail across the high-relief angel. The coin made him feel like a hypocrite. “Heads you win, tails I lose,” he whispered as he flipped the coin high in the air.
“Heads,” Hector said as he snatched the coin out of the air, balancing it on Ryan’s shoulder as he placed his other hand on Ryan’s other shoulder. “Greetings from the other side,” he said, and flounced down on the bench with a laugh.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t have the good sense to stay dead after they pulled you out of the bay,” Ryan said. “What happened to Earl?”
“Too bad about Earl. Him, I really liked. He had the good sense to keep his head down and his nose out of trouble—up until last night, that is. Good worker bee.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m in hot water for falsely identifying his body. Who killed him?”
“He got a little too pushy with the Diablos, on the other side of town. They have a mentality you can’t push—know what I mean?”
“Yeah. You pushed too hard, and Earl took it for the team.”
Hector looked at Ryan and laughed. “Exactly! I kind of thought it would go down like that, so I asked him to hold on to my wallet while I took one last dip in the bay for old time’s sake. Poor bastard. Diablos are vindicated; I’m happy; life is good. Now, back to you. The golden boy is oh, so troubled. Look, man, all’s forgiven. I spoke out of turn. If you want to work something out with this woman, fine. But let’s be realistic here. We have a lot riding on this. Can’t you keep your … that is, slow things down a little bit until we’re done here? Give me the deed, and I’ll go back to New York and make our report. Even though I still have unfinished work here, I’ll close this out and then come back. That frees you up to do whatever you want to pursue personally here. Huh?”
The Pickle Boat House Page 11
