by Leona Karr
She turned away quickly and keeping her back to him, she fumbled with something on the worktable.
He stood there for a long moment, not knowing how to apologize for something he really didn’t understand. He suddenly seemed to be a stranger to himself as he realized what had happened. For the first time in his life, he was falling hard and fast.
When he found his voice, he said huskily, “If you needed a lift to the ferry—”
“Oh I don’t,” she said quickly as she turned around. “I won’t be going to the hospital today. Lorrie called and she’s being released tomorrow morning. I’ll go in on the early ferry and get her to the airport. She has a reservation for one o’clock. Our friends will meet her at the other end.”
“That’s great news. Well, then, would you like to take a run over to Minnequa Island with me in the patrol boat? It’s a nearby island that’s larger than Greystone and has shops, restaurants and tourist attractions. I need to talk to someone and thought a trip might take your mind off things.”
“I’m tempted, but I really should stay and get this finished up as quickly as possible. If I work most of the day, I should be able to get almost everything packed.”
“My appointment isn’t until five-thirty,” he added quickly. “It only takes about twenty minutes to cross the bay to Minnequa Island, so you’d still have most of the day to work. I could pick you up a little before five.” As he saw signs of debate going on in her mind, he added, “We can make up for the dinner we missed last night.”
“All right,” she said finally and then added with a slight smile, “You do owe me a dinner.”
“That I do,” he agreed.
“Thanks for coming,” she said softly as he turned toward the door.
“We’ll make up for last night,” he promised with all the confidence of someone brash enough to think negative forces were under his control.
Chapter Nine
Minnequa Island was a flurry of activity as Brad docked the patrol boat. A white-crested rolling surf rose and fell against a stone jetty, and a rising wind whipped breakers in the incoming tide. The wharf was crowded with returning fishermen hauling their catches to various fish houses. A nearby business district was alive with late shoppers and early patrons of the cafés and restaurants.
Brad pointed to some nearby houses north of the harbor. “I’m going to interview a Mary Sandrow who lives over there. She worked as a personal maid to Samantha Langdon until the car accident.”
“And?” Ashley prodded, obviously curious.
“It’s possible that after all these years she may be ready to talk. Who knows, she may have information that is pertinent in finding out who attacked your sister.”
“I don’t see how something that happened over twenty-five years ago could have anything to do with an assault on Lorrie, but you’re the detective. The investigation is your call.”
“I don’t want to pass up any leads. I shouldn’t be very long. Why don’t I meet you at the Dolphin Inn in about an hour? They have good food and we can have our dinner without interruption.”
“Promise?” she asked in a way that challenged his ability to keep the evening strictly impersonal.
“Would I lie?” he asked in mock indignation.
“Maybe.” She gave him a knowing smile as she left him with a wave of her hand.
As she walked away, he felt a heat surging through him that was anything but indifferent to her sexual appeal. Her sensual walk, those long legs, supple hips and—
Whoa! he silently told himself and jerked his eyes away from her retreating figure. Until now, he’d managed to keep any romantic relationships on the light side. The truth was, he’d never met an independent, engaging woman like Ashley.
He’d only dated casually during his years on the mainland and since returning to the island, he’d stayed clear of female visitors who seemed ready to give him an inviting smile as he passed by. He certainly had more sense than to let down his guard and allow a California businesswoman play havoc with his emotions. Didn’t he?
He jerked his mind back to business and headed toward Mary Sandrow’s house. The attractive Cape Cod-style home was painted gray and had a picket fence around a small, fading flower garden. A tabby cat sat sunning itself on the front step as Brad let himself through a gate and approached the front door.
The woman must have been watching for his approach because she opened the door before he had even raised his hand to knock. Brad gave her his best disarming smile, but it did little to soften the scowl on her pudgy face.
“I’m Officer Taylor—”
“I know who you are,” she responded coldly. She was a large woman, overweight, with sagging jowls and cheeks that destroyed any hint of the attractive woman she might have been. Now in her forties, Brad had a difficult time picturing her as the personal maid Samantha Langdon had trusted with all her secrets.
“Thank you so much for seeing me,” he responded politely, ignoring the hostility that radiated from her.
“What do you want? Why are you here?”
“Just to have a little talk with you.”
“About what?”
“As I told you on the phone, I’m doing a little investigation into Samantha Langdon’s death.”
“What for? She’s been long gone.”
Brad reached out and opened the screen door between them. He sensed she’d fully intended to slam the door in his face but now it was too late.
“Do you mind if I come in?” The question was rhetorical. He’d already stepped across the threshold.
Scowling, she turned away from the door and waddled down a hall to a spacious room spanning the entire back of the house.
Much to Brad’s surprise, the furniture and décor was very modern and quite new. Large windows were framed in rich fabric, and colorful imported rugs graced the hardwood floor. Everything was a sharp contrast to the rather disheveled appearance of Mary Sandrow herself.
He remained standing until she had eased down in a large overstuffed chair that could bear her weight without sagging. There was no pretense of a gracious hostess about her. She glared at him as he sat down on a sofa facing her. Her narrowed eyes never left his face. Everything about her posture gave the impression of a guard dog ready to spring.
“I’m here because you were closer to Samantha Langdon than anyone else at the time of her death.” Brad had decided his best bet was to be completely honest with her. “I need some answers.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m investigating an assault on someone working for the Langdons.”
“I heard about that. Some city girl, wasn’t she?” Her voice was flat, disinterested.
“Yes. Lorrie Davis. She was cataloging clothing and other things collected by the Langdon family through the years.”
The woman shrugged. “The attic was jammed full of stuff when I was there. Never knew why they kept all of it. Someone was always talking about cleaning it all out, but no one ever did.”
“I guess they never thought it was worth much—until now.” Brad kept his voice level. “Do you know any reason, Mary, why going through any of Samantha’s belongings might trigger some unexpected violence?”
She gave an ugly laugh. “You really are grasping at straws, aren’t you?”
“Maybe so, but there are some things about Samantha Langdon’s death that have me puzzled.”
“My Samantha’s dead, and that’s that!” A sudden anguish laced her angry protest.
“You really loved her, didn’t you? I don’t expect there was anyone in the whole household who knew her as well as you did. She must have confided in you about everything.”
He waited for the woman to deny it. When she didn’t, Brad moved in quickly. “We have reason to believe Samantha Langdon wasn’t alone that night when her car plunged off the road.”
Mary Sandrow’s face suddenly had a frightened expression of someone being cornered. She snapped, “I don’t know anything about that night.”
>
“What was she doing on the mainland?” Brad asked as if he hadn’t heard her denial. “Was she meeting someone?”
“She…she was alone…the police said so.”
“Let’s see, how old were you when you started working at the compound, Mary? Barely eighteen, I believe. Just a few years younger than Samantha. You were her personal maid before and after she was married. When she died so tragically, you left the Langdon household. What did you do then?”
She glared at him, her mouth clamped shut.
“I know you moved to Minnequa Island, but there aren’t any records of your being employed anywhere. Strange. Uncle Sam is quite a steward when it comes to keeping track of things like that. You’ve never filed any kind of reported income.”
“I don’t owe the government anything,” she snapped.
“No, not if you haven’t been gainfully employed all these years.” As he looked around at the room’s plush new furnishings, he said, “I can’t help wondering how can you afford all this.”
“Why don’t you check my bank account?” she snapped.
“As a matter of fact, I have. The thirtieth of every month you make a sizable deposit—in cash.”
“No law against putting money in a bank.”
“That depends, Mary. What are you doing to get it?”
“Not a damn thing, Officer. Not a damn thing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing!”
Brad’s gut feeling was that she was telling the truth.
Someone had been paying Mary Sandrow all these years—and was still paying her just to keep quiet.
ASHLEY WAS ENJOYING the view and the fanciful undersea decor of the Dolphin Inn. Some of her built-up tension had begun to ease as she sat on a veranda and sipped a glass of wine. Lorrie would be leaving in the morning, and Ashley would be joining her in California before long. All that had happened to them here would seem like a strange dream.
Quickly forgotten?
When she saw Brad’s easy gait making his way around the tables towards her, she knew some memories would last a lifetime. How could she forget the first time she’d seen him on the night of her arrival and the way he had bawled her out? In his jeans and pullover, she’d taken him for some officious deckhand.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked as he eased down into the chair opposite her.
“I was just thinking about how official you look in your uniform with your badge boldly displayed on your chest. Kind of intimidating.”
With a quick movement, he removed the badge and stuck it in his breast pocket. “That better?”
“Much,” she said. “More appropriate for a dinner date.”
“Oh, is that what this is?” he teased.
Their light mood continued through dinner. Both of them needed a respite from talking about anything that really mattered as they discussed sports, movies, and hobbies. As they left the restaurant, Brad took her arm and turned her in the opposite direction of the wharf.
“Where are we going?” she asked, puzzled.
“I feel like dancing.”
“What?” she echoed in disbelief.
“Dancing. You know, step, step, step together, step.”
“Yes, but—”
“You think I can’t put one foot in front of the other, is that it? I’ll have to show you my trophy.”
“Trophy?”
She thought he was pulling her leg until he explained that he and one of the female police cadets had entered a dance contest and won third place while they were at the academy.
“We would have come in first, but my partner wasn’t that good.” He grinned, obviously lying.
A community dance hall was filled with local people and others who had come from surrounding islands to enjoy Minnequa’s nightlife. A five-piece band filled the barnlike structure with music. The main floor and a balcony crowded with tables offered food and drink.
“Shall we get a table later?” he asked. “Enjoy a few dances first?”
Even as she agreed, she wondered exactly what she was letting herself in for. How much should she believe about his agility on the dance floor? His tall, solid physique looked more akin to body-building activities than light-footed maneuvers on a dance floor. She hoped he wasn’t going to embarrass himself and her.
The fast-paced, two-step tune wasn’t what she would have chosen for their first sojourn onto the dance floor, but he easily swung her out in front of him, and then pulled her into dance position.
She’d never been so thankful for her five-foot, eight-inch height. She could look into his eyes and accommodate his six-foot frame to hers.
He hadn’t lied.
As the energetic musicians struck up a lively measure, he displayed a natural rhythm and harmony with the music. They spun, parted, dipped and twirled around the floor. He led with a confident ease that made her a better dancing partner than she really was.
When the drummer put a defining beat to the last note, she was out of breath and laughing. “Don’t expect me to keep up this pace all evening.”
She hoped the next offering might be a slow one, but it wasn’t. As the music started, someone grabbed her free hand and pulled her and Brad into a group formation. Almost instantly, she found herself whirling away with a perfect stranger.
The tempo and sound kept getting faster and louder as she was twirled from one grinning partner to another. She made a full circle of the room before she dizzily found herself holding Brad’s hands again.
“Thank heavens,” she breathed in relief when the music stopped. The room was spinning like a top, and she clung to him to keep her balance.
“How’d you like that?” he asked, chuckling as he led her off the floor to one of the small side tables.
She groaned as she dropped into a chair. “Is that the way you islanders kill off the tourists?”
“Don’t tell me a city gal like you can’t dance the night away,” he chided.
“That wasn’t dancing,” she protested.
“It’s called the Island Whirligig. Not everyone can last until the final spin. You did well!”
They ordered a couple of drinks, talked and laughed, and watched the crowd circulating around them. When the lights dimmed for some romantic tunes, Ashley expected they’d return to the dance floor.
She hummed a familiar ballad and was ready to get to her feet when she realized Brad seemed to be ignoring the dance floor. He made small talk and sipped his beer. She was surprised and disappointed when he made no move to ask her to dance again.
He glanced at his watch. “I guess we’d better head back. It’s getting late.”
Late? Late for what? Neither of them had a curfew.
“What’s the matter?” she asked pointedly. “Did I embarrass you with my dancing?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that this wasn’t a good idea, after all.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “I confess I’m a coward when it come to matters of the heart. I don’t like dead ends. If things were different and you could stay…”
She shook her head. “I have a life waiting for me.”
“Is there someone else?”
“No, not anymore. The man I thought I loved found someone else. Right now, I’m totally happy to be single.” She finished the rest of her wine. “You’re right. We really should be going. Lorrie will be leaving tomorrow, and I should be able to finalize everything in quick order.”
THEY LEFT the dance hall and walked the short block to the wharf where the patrol boat was docked at the end of a long pier. Brad couldn’t decide whether to thank her for the evening or leave well enough alone.
All through dinner, her appealing sexuality had quickened his desire. He’d suggested going dancing as an excuse to hold her close and torture himself with the brush of her body against his. But when the opportunity finally presented itself, he had pulled back. He’d never been one to lie to himself. It wasn’t dancing he wanted. Ashley Davis fired him with desires that
were full of red flags. He’d be a fool not to keep a tight rein on those feelings when he was with her.
He helped her aboard the boat and expected her to take the companion seat beside him, but she didn’t. She went into the boat’s cabin and sat down on one of the benches. Apparently she’d interpreted his behavior as motivation to put some distance between them.
He debated whether to let the whole thing pass. How could he admit that holding her in his arms, feeling her body pressed against his while they moved together to the seductive music, was too much of a challenge? He couldn’t admit the truth without embarrassing them both, but his conscience prickled enough for him to try to salvage the evening.
“It’s much nicer on deck. For once, we have a clear night. Why don’t you—” He broke off as he noticed a faint, almost imperceptible glow under the door of a storage cabinet just beyond where she was sitting. “What the hell?”
In two long strides, he reached the cabinet and jerked open the door. An explosive device connected to some wires contained a faintly glowing timer, and only a few seconds were left in the countdown.
“Get off the boat,” he yelled at her. “Now!”
She jerked to her feet as he knelt down and carefully lifted up the whole device.
Ashley ran ahead of him as he held the firebomb in his hands as steadily as he could and walked across the cabin. Holding his breath, he carefully mounted a step and crossed the deck to the railing. In slow motion, he leaned out as far as he could and dropped it. The last second ticked as dark, swirling waters sucked the firebomb out of sight.
Chapter Ten
“Run! There may be another one!” Brad grabbed Ashley’s arm. They ran the length of the long pier before they stopped and looked back.
“What was it?” she gasped. She’d leaped off the boat just as Brad bent over the railing and dropped something into the water.
“A firebomb. Damn it! It couldn’t have been there long! Somebody must have seen us leave the dance.”
