“It’s dark after all.” He’d tried to sound convincing.
“It’s Sandhill Island, after all. We don’t normally have security issues. We know our neighbors.”
“Well, then maybe just for the company if not the security.” He’d smiled his best smile, and she had finally agreed.
“Who would I talk to about renting one of those empty stores downtown?” Neil held her arm as Billie slipped out of heels and into her flip flops for the walk home.
“Sam probably knows who owns them. It might be the Stanford Trust. They still own a lot of the island.
“Stanford Trust?” He walked beside her as she hiked her hem to step over sea grass.
“The Stanfords used to own the whole island, but they graciously gave it back to the former owners. I wasn’t around, but I guess old man Stanford was a piece of work and stole everything he could get his hands on around here. When he died, his daughter took over and created a philanthropic trust; her son runs it now. You know Meg that has the garden out behind the beautiful villa on the beach? Well, Meg and Jon run this trust, and they gave everyone on the island their holdings back. As to who owns the empty buildings? Ask Sam, he’ll know. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I can live on a boat, but it’s hard to run a business on a boat. I’ll need an office.” He guided her around the clump of grass, so she wouldn’t have to step over it.
“So, you’re serious about this?” Billie looked at Neil as the cloud covering the moon blew away. Neil could not believe her beauty in the moonlight—even more than in the sun.
“I am. I don’t want to go back to Montana, and this area might need my help. I’m pretty handy with a computer.”
“Computer nerds are always needed.” Billie giggled. “So, if you’re good with a computer, could you help me find someone?”
“If they have an internet presence, I can probably find them. Who did you have in mind?” They walked to the screen door of her porch which sat propped open, so Lillie could come and go. Neil heard the soft whining of puppies and a low bark.
“It’s okay, Lillie, it’s just me and Neil.” Billie stepped up to the door of the house and hesitated. “This is a little awkward. Would you like to come in and have some tea? I’d like to discuss who I’m looking for. However, that is the only reason I’m, uh, you know, asking you in.” He could see her blush under the porch light.
“Understood. Just looking for someone online.” Neil did understand, even though he hoped someday she’d invite him in for other purposes. Right now, he’d take what he could get.
Billie opened the unlocked door and walked in turning on lights. Her gown swished as she walked. The small beach house had a front entry with an antique buffet that sat just inside the door. It opened into a living room and dining room with bedrooms off each side. The kitchen was in the back. She walked immediately to the kitchen, and he followed, unsure if he should stay in the living room. Opening the refrigerator door, she took out the iced tea pitcher—a staple in a southern kitchen—and filled two glasses. Handing him one, she pointed to the living room and they walked out of the small kitchen.
“Have a seat while I change,” she said walking away.
The small couch had a coffee table in front of it with coasters for the inevitable glass of tea. He wondered what else they drank on the island. He knew he could buy beer. He picked up and thumbed through a sale flyer with musical instruments just as Billie walked back through the door barefoot, in shorts and a T-shirt. She sat beside him on the couch, and a small tremor went up his spine.
“I would like to find my father,” she said. “Well, at least the man I think might have been my father.”
Neil stared at the woman who sat next to him on the sofa. He watched as she deftly pulled her hair back into a pony tail.
“You didn’t know your father?” Neil realized how little he knew about Billie other than her mother’s recent death. She had not known her father, her mother was dead, and she endured a horrible accident that took her husband and child. She faced the world alone. Did she have siblings or other family?
“No. My mother was a single parent before it was fashionable. She had been the principal dancer with the ballet in Corpus Christi, and she always said my father danced with the ballet too and couldn’t marry her. When she found out about the pregnancy, she became the Artistic Director at the Corpus Christi Concert Ballet, which is the academy for the ballet. She taught three days a week while I went to school. But a man attended the funeral that I just had a feeling about. He acted like he couldn’t leave Mom’s urn. He stayed a long time. I decided if anyone knew him, it would be Poppy, and he did. Poppy said his name was Rico, Mom’s boyfriend. I couldn’t believe it. I had no idea my mother had a boyfriend. So, I talked to Sandy’s mom, Martha, and she confirmed his name, Rico Santiago, a dancer. I started to put two and two together. Before the incident with the potential bonfire, I found a note, written in a man’s handwriting, that said he awaited my mom’s answer. I have no idea what answer he awaited, but I wondered if he authored the note. Last week I went to the ballet looking for him or someone who knew him. The receptionist took a note, and she said she would relay it to the current director. I haven’t heard anything. Could you look up Rico Santiago from Corpus Christi, a man maybe in his 70s? Is that possible? I’d like to talk to him. If he is not my father, maybe he knows who is.” Billie looked like she had lightened a long-standing load by many pounds after her speech.
“I can try. I’ll do some looking when I get back home to my computer. Will that work?” Neil took a sip of the tea. Fresh, not the instant kind.
“Great. That’s what I need. I got the feeling the girl behind the desk at the ballet might never get my note to the right person. She admitted to being new.” Billie pushed back a stray hair that escaped the ponytail.
“I could look into that.” He glanced at the flyers on the coffee table. “Buying a piano?” Neil picked up the flyer closest to him.
“Well, looking. After Mom died, I decided to turn her room into a music room. I used to compose, but haven’t done that in a long time.”
“You write music, too?” Neil had no idea why this surprised him with the amount of talent Billie exhibited.
“I used to, but it’s been a long time. My therapist thinks it would be a great healing tool. Now if I had a piano, I have the room.”
Neil picked up the flyer and looked at the instrument circled with a number written off the side. Pianos weren’t cheap. “I hope you get what you want. I probably should leave and let you get some rest. I’ll see what I can do about Rico Santiago when I get back to the computer, and I’ll let you know.” He stood and handed her the tea glass still half full.
“Thank you,” she said as they walked out the front door onto the porch. The yellow bug light did little to keep away the flying creatures that congregated on her porch. He waved away a moth and stepped off into the moonlit night.
Chapter 35
“I’m just saying, I hope Neil can find Rico online. I would like to talk to him. If he is my father, I’d like to know, and if not, maybe he knows who is.” Billie stood covered in yellow paint. The faded red hat that once said Padre Island had specks of yellow on it too. It was supposed to cover her hair and shade her face. It didn’t do a very good job of either. The old T-shirt and shorts were equally speckled, and there were drips down her leg.
The house small; Sandy said it wouldn’t take long to paint it. The women were on their third day. Billie’s house would be the exact opposite of Martha’s house, now yellow with white trim. Once finished, Billie’s house would be white with yellow trim. It helped to have a friend who bought twice as much paint as she needed—or maybe no accident. Sandy could be devious, and she knew both houses needed painting.
“Well, I hope you find what you want. I understand wanting to know your father, but if your mom tried to keep it a secret, there may be a good reason.” Sandy stepped off the short ladder that enabled her to reach the eaves w
hile Billie painted around the windows.
“My arms ache. I haven’t painted this much in years. First the music room and now the outside of the house. We deserve a break.” Billie put down the paint brush and stretched her arms.
Lillie’s pups were bouncing around the porch and eating solid food. In another week, they could go to their new homes. So far, Billie had only placed two of the four, but she hoped to find homes soon for the others.
“I could eat lunch. Then, maybe we could finish up this afternoon. We’ve only got a little more to go. Trim goes faster than the house.” Sandy too rolled her shoulder and put the paint brush back in the pan.
“I made chicken salad earlier, and there’s some fruit.” Billie walked to the kitchen sink and washed her hands. She heard Sandy go down the hall to the bathroom.
By the time Sandy walked back in the kitchen, sandwiches were made and tea glasses full.
“When this is over, I may need more than tea.” Sandy again stretched and rolled her shoulders.
“Almost done. Just keep saying that. I made you a sandwich. Sit down and rest.” Billie took a bite of sandwich and sipped her tea. “Are the kids coming over today or just playing with Grandma?”
“I don’t know; I left before they were up. We may owe them an evening swim or something. I’ve been gone the last few days, and they haven’t been able to get in the water.” Sandy dove into the sandwich like she hadn’t eaten in days. Billie smiled and stepped to the counter and the container of cookies Martha sent. A sandwich wasn’t going to be enough for Sandy with the physical labor.
****
The light breeze blew in off the ocean as Billie finally picked up the daily mail. The paint brushes were dumped unceremoniously into the trash instead of cleaning them. They had done their job well, and now they needed to be put to rest permanently. Billie didn’t know when she would paint again, but when that time came, she would buy new brushes. The tiny bits of left over yellow and white paint were stored on the back porch. Martha had cooked dinner and invited Billie to join them; after a shower, she stopped by the post office before walking to Martha’s for supper. There were the usual bills and junk mail and one lone overstuffed envelope—the return address said Corpus Christi. It caused a shiver up her spine as she slit it open it with her finger—cutting the skin.
Instinctively she stuck the lightly bleeding finger in her mouth and unfolded the paper.
Dear Ms. Stone,
I have found a potential employer in Corpus Christi who appreciates my ability to sell autos. I have drafted a letter—which I hope you will sign—stating that I have served my time and am once again an upstanding citizen. I’m sure a note from you would be just what the employer needs to give him confidence in me.
I am enclosing the letter for your signature. Please return it to me ASAP, and you will never hear from me again.
Sincerely,
Joe Franks
361/554-9509
Attached to the handwritten letter Billie also found a typed document with her signature line. She didn’t even bother to read it. She stuffed them both back into the envelope, leaving a bloody trail on the envelope, and ran to Martha’s newly painted house to find Sandy.
“Okay, this is too much. I’m calling the constable. Franks has to stop harassing you. First, he caused the accident. Now—even though we can’t prove it—he broke into your house the night your mother died. I don’t know why he is picking on you, but he has messed with the wrong family this time.” Sandy yelled across the room at whoever listened as she punched 911 on her phone. Carol stood by her mother’s side wide eyed as Jake’s face reddened in anger.
“Aunt Billie, who is Joe Franks and why is he harassing you?” Billie looked from Sandy to Martha. Martha nodded that she should tell him.
Billie cleared her throat. “Jake, I don’t know how much you are aware of the accident that took the lives of my family…”
“Yeah, Mom told us a drunk hit your car. I’m sorry.” Jake looked much older than the boy who had come to the island a month ago.
“Well, Joe Franks is that man. He spent a year in jail for manslaughter, and when he got out, he had lost his job, his house, and most of his money. I’m sorry that happened to him.”
“Well, he deserved it! He was drunk, and people died. A year isn’t long enough.” Jake, like his father, was never without an opinion.
“He made a mistake. Now he wants me to help him find a job. He blames me for his misfortunes.”
“He has no one to blame but himself.” Jake looked like his father, confident in his opinions and wise beyond his years.
“You’re right.” Billie looked at the boy. He would not be much older than her son, Jimmy, if he had lived.
“The constable is coming over to take your statement. I don’t know how much good it will do but the restraining order is back in place. So, with this, maybe it will help. Franks put it all in writing, so we know he’s not that smart.”
“He’s an idiot. A drunken idiot!” Jake got redder by the minute.
“Okay, Jake, that’s enough. We are here for Aunt Billie, but aren’t going to get all riled up; it does no good. Unlike Joe Franks, we keep our heads on straight and our minds uncluttered with anger. Right?”
Jake only nodded.
“Let’s take this food out on the porch, what do you say?” Martha moved to take the plates off the table and handed one to each of the kids. “Fill it up.”
It wasn’t long until the constable arrived to take a statement from Billie. Sandhill Island felt lucky to have constables, but they held little more power than a security guard. If things really got bad, Corpus Christi sent out reinforcements.
“Ma’am can I have the note you received in the mail?” The man in the blue uniform reached for the papers clutched tightly in Billie’s hands.
“No. I mean could I bring them to you tomorrow? I want to make a copy. I have a little copier at home, and I’d like to do that before I turn them over to you.”
He hesitated and then sighed. “That’s fine. It can wait until tomorrow.” He looked around the porch. “Thank you, and good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He turned and left the silent porch. The only sound was the ocean on its infinite quest for the shore.
“Kids, how about an evening swim?” Sandy looked at her children as they played with their unfinished dinner. The mood for food past. They put down the plates and ran for the house.
“That’s okay, I’ve got them.” Martha stood and stacked the plates and walked into the house.
“What are you going to do with the note?” Sandy looked at her friend knowingly.
“I’m not sure yet. But I may pretend to sign it—if he comes clean about Mom’s death.”
“Billie. No! You’ve been through enough. You are not going to bait him. He needs to go away.” Sandy’s green cat-like eyes grew darker.
“I know. And I’ve got to stop him. He needs to confess. He killed Steve and Jimmy and now Mom. The police can’t stop him, so I have to. But I may need your help. What if I convinced him to come to the island, and then I got him to confess to being in my house the night Mom died? I could wear a wire, and the police would have proof. Then he would go to jail for a long time, like he should have to begin with.”
“Billie, that is really dangerous, and I don’t think the police would agree to it anyway. You and I think that Franks broke into your house the night Giselle died. Raven saw someone run out the door, but she has no idea who. She could not identify him. The police don’t have enough on him.” Sandy took the last drink from her glass and set it on the table between them.
“That’s why I have to do this. He can’t get away with another murder. He thinks I’ve ruined his life. Well, I’ve done nothing compared to what he has done.” Billie’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“You’ve done nothing at all. The Texas Victim’s Compensation Fund made him pay. He lost his house because of non-payment while in prison, and the same is true of hi
s job. He’s right; no one wants to hire a jail bird, but that is not your fault.”
“I know. But he won’t stop if someone doesn’t stop him. I think the time has come that I stop him. I could tell him I’d sign only if he admitted to being in the house. If the police hear that, they have to arrest him.” Billie looked at her friend as the evening sun shone through her golden hair. The women stared at each other.
“Okay, let’s go!” Jake shouted, leaping through the front door with his sister behind him. They had their suits and towels and energy to spare.
“Mom, we’ll be at the beach for a while,” Sandy called back into the house where Martha cleaned up the dishes.
Sandy and Billie sat on the sand in shorts watching the kids bounce in the surf. The evening became darker, and Sandy told the kids when she could no longer see heads in the water, they had to come out and go home. The time drew near.
Billie breathed deeply. “I love this time of the evening. The ocean is getting ready to go to sleep. The waves become gentler as the air cools. I don’t think I could ever live anywhere else.”
Sandy smiled and looked out in the water for her children. “I know. I can’t believe we’ll be leaving in a week. The kids have to go back to school, and so do I this time. I’m really looking forward to the new job.” She leaned back on her elbows and stared across the calm sea. Gulls swooped down for the evening meal. “You made a lot of headway this summer—I mean, since the bonfire incident. You are much calmer this time around. Even though I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to confront Franks, if you want to run this idea past the police, I’ll go with you.”
Stones of Sandhill Island Page 15
