Stones of Sandhill Island

by Peggy Chambers

“You will?” Billie glanced over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I will. Maybe the police have a better idea than using you for bait. But the letter might be what finally hangs him.” She stood. “I’ve got to get the kids in.” Sandy called her kids to the beach.

  Chapter 36

  “It would have to be somewhere in the open—somewhere public. We would insist on that.” The detective sent by the Corpus Christi police sat on the edge of the desk, Billie in the chair. Sandy stood nearby with the envelope smeared in Billie’s blood. She had promised to help her friend.

  “Okay, how about right after my set on Friday night? He’s come to the restaurant before, and he could meet me there. I have a phone number. I can call him.” Billie pulled her cell phone from her pocket and looked directly into the eyes of the detective. For once she felt confident about her involvement in bringing this chapter of her life to an end, a new feeling for her.

  “Wait, let’s make this a private number so he can’t call you back.” The detective took her phone and clicked on the settings making the cell phone number invisible to the person on the other end. “Tell him to be certain he comes after you finish on Friday night. Say you will meet him in the parking lot—or better still, how about the post office center—it’s well-lit and less than a block from the restaurant. What time do you normally get finished?” The detective looked like he had done this a thousand times as he casually sipped his coffee.

  “Oh, normally by 10:30 or 11:00. By then most of the patrons have gone home.” Billie took the phone back from the detective.

  “Okay, let’s say 11:30 to be certain you’re finished and to give you time to get out of the restaurant and down the block. We’ll have men in place in both the restaurant and outside—along with the post office center. You make sure that the chef knows the plans—and your boyfriend.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.” Billie looked up at the man sitting on the desk.

  “Well, the man you’ve been seen with lately who walks you home at night.” He took another gulp of coffee.

  “How do you know who walks me home at night?” Billie suddenly felt violated, her private life public these days.

  The constable who had been to the house before cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Miss Billie, but we’ve seen you and Neil walking home at night when we’re on patrol. No one is checking into your private life, but we’re patrolling the island to keep everyone safe. We’ve noticed he walks you home. That’s a good thing, not being alone, even on Sandhill Island.”

  “Well, thank you, I think. Okay, so I finish my set and then walk to the post office center. When I get there, I get him to admit to breaking into my house, right?” Billie shook just thinking about the situation.

  “Yes. Go slow. Don’t scare him off. Be firm. You’ll only sign if he admits to being in the house the night your mother died. Don’t accuse him of murder or he’ll run for sure. Are you sure you’re okay with this? I’ve been told that you are under a doctor’s care. The constables told me about the wreck that took your family. I’m sorry.” The detective sat the cup on the desk and leaned slightly toward her.

  “I am okay. I’ll admit, I’m nervous, but I want to put this behind me. He won’t quit until someone stops him. He’s already proven that.” Billie looked again at her cell phone on the desk.

  “Okay, let’s call him while you’re here. You say he works at night, so he’ll probably be home now. He’ll want you to just sign the letter and mail it back. You don’t want to do that. Tell him you want to see him before signing, and then he’ll never bother you again. That is your line in the sand.”

  Billie dialed the number Franks placed at the bottom of the letter.

  Chapter 37

  Billie finished washing the dishes from the freshly baked cookies. She made Martha’s Snickerdoodle recipe, and it turned out well. She divided them up between containers for Neil and Sam. The rest remained in her mother’s antique cookie jar that sat on her counter. She couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t in her house.

  She stopped on the porch long enough to freshen the dog’s water bowl and pet the sleeping puppies and their mother. She would miss the little rascals once they were gone, but they were getting adventuresome, and their mother continually brought them back to the safety of the porch. She knew if they were going to make good pets for someone, the time for housebreaking and training had come.

  First stop—the restaurant to see Sam. With the lunch rush over, he would be planning the evening meals.

  Pulling the door open to Le Chez, she smelled the fragrant scent of tomato sauce simmering and the never-ending yeast rolls as they baked. Le Chez’s rolls were known far and wide. The plump chef walked out of the kitchen wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “What are you doing here, pretty lady? You don’t work tonight.” He lightly pecked her on the cheek. He was kidding.

  “Came to talk.” She smiled at him and he gestured to one of the tables.

  “Nothing serious, I hope.” Sam turned the chair around and straddled it facing Billie.

  “Well, yes and no.” She placed the plastic container of cookies on the table. “I’ve been talking to the police.”

  Sam arched an eyebrow at her.

  “Joe Franks sent me a letter.”

  “I can’t believe that son of a bitch hasn’t disappeared yet. Maybe I need to take care of that.” He brushed his hair back with one hand in frustration.

  “Well, that’s what we’re talking about. I’m tired of being a victim, and I want this over and done with. He wants me to sign a letter stating he’s rehabilitated and not a danger to society, so he can get a better job. I can’t prove he’s responsible for my mother’s death, but I know in my heart he broke into my house that night. I want him to go to prison for a long time. So, I talked to the Corpus Christi police, and we’re setting up a sting. It will take place this Friday after my set. The police will be in Le Chez as well as the post office. We called him from the police station and set this up. He will meet me about 11:30 at the post office, and I’ll be wearing a wire. I will get him to confess to being in the house the night Mom died. Then they’ll move in and arrest him—once and for all.”

  Sam stared at her from across the table. “Are you sure that’s safe? He is not to be trusted, and he has already hurt you more than once.” Sam opened one button on his chef’s jacket.

  “The police will be there; so will Sandy, and I’m talking to Neil next. I want everyone aware of what is happening so there are no slip ups.”

  “I still don’t like it,” Sam said.

  Billie slid the cookies across the table to her friend and boss. “That’s where the cookies come in. They’re a peace offering. Martha’s Snickerdoodle recipe. I hoped to soften the blow. You are such a good friend, and I knew you would disagree with my decision, but it is one I must make. I’m tired of being a victim, Sam. I’m ready to get back to being a person again. I must get rid of Franks to do that. I’m smart enough to know I’ll need help, and that is where my friends and the police come in.”

  “Okay, what do I have to do?” Sam looked resigned.

  “I don’t think Franks will even come in here, but if he does, keep an eye on him for me and let me know. He is supposed to meet me at the post office. It’s well-lit and public there. I really doubt that you will even see him that night.” Billie shifted in her chair.

  “Okay, but I don’t like it. The police better do their job.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “And when this is all over, we’re going to have a party at Le Chez. A coming out party for you and your new life. When is that piano to be delivered?” Sam had softened after he thought of her piano.

  “Next week. I’ll be paying for it for a long time. But I don’t care.” Billie smiled and squeezed the hand of the man across the table from her.

  Sam smiled. “You’ll sell so much music, you’ll be leaving ol’ Sam and Sandhill Island behind.”

  “Never,” she replied.

&
nbsp; “Well, you’ll at least have that piano paid for in no time.”

  “That would be nice.” Billie rose. “I’ll see you Friday night. I need to talk to Neil, so I’ll see you later.” She kissed the top of his head and walked out the door leaving him at the table.

  “Thanks for the cookies,” he called as she walked away.

  ****

  Neil watched the woman’s hips sway the long flowing skirt as she waked down the dock. She stopped and talked a moment to Poppy sitting in the shade with his fishing pole and then continued his way. Billie was coming to visit. After all this time. She waved and pulled the strap to her bag back up on her shoulder as the sea breeze blew her hair back from her face. He pulled in the line that had not even been nibbled on that day, and set the pole aside as she walked up to his boat. The Overboard rocked gently in the waves made from other vessels coming and going.

  “Ahoy, matie.” He smiled and wondered how dumb he sounded using that old greeting.

  She stopped at the edge of the boat. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

  “Always.” He tried not to look too anxious. She could still be scared off. He took her hand and helped her step into the boat. He looked around and wished he had cleaned up before she came. The small boat, normally cluttered, looked worse today. He seldom cleaned just for him.

  Neil gestured to a seat on the boat. “Can I get you something to drink? I think I have water and beer, no tea.”

  “Water would be great.” Billie sat on the bench seat, the bag at her feet while Neil disappeared into the bowels of the boat. He reappeared with a bottle of cold water and handed it to her.

  “So, what brings you out today? I’m glad you decided to stop by.” Neil sat down in the fishing chair and leaned toward her.

  Billie reached into her bag on the floor and pulled out the plastic container of cookies. “I thought you might be starving, so I brought you these.”

  Neil reached for the cookies and popped open the lid. Inside crisp golden sugar cookies lay reflecting the sun from their sparkling surface. “Cookies, yum. With the way the fishing has been going today, these might be supper. Thank you. And mostly thank you for coming to visit. I’ve wanted you to stop by for some time.” Neil looked at Billie as she straightened her skirt.

  “Well, I have to admit, I had an ulterior motive for being here.” She looked up at him shyly.

  “Whatever the motive, I’m glad you’re here.” Neil immediately realized he might sound needy and clamped his mouth shut.

  “I came to see you because… Well, I just left Sam’s and delivered the news to him also. Sandy accompanied me to the police station this week. I received a note from Joe Franks wanting me to sign a letter for him to a potential employer. I have decided I’m tired of being a victim, and it is time Franks left me alone. The police can’t arrest him for being a pain in the ass, so I’m going to get him to admit to being in my home the night Mom died. I’ll wear a wire. He is to meet me after my set at the restaurant on Friday at the post office around 11:30. After that I hope to be rid of him forever. The police suggested I tell you and Sam. Evidently, they know all about me. The constables on Sandhill Island are more observant than I knew. They have seen you walk me home at night and said I should tell my boyfriend.” Billie’s face turned pink at the mention of the word boyfriend. “I said I didn’t have a boyfriend, but they said they meant the man who walked me home after work sometimes.” She breathed deeply.

  Neil remained silent for a moment as he digested the news. “That was a mouthful. You’re going to be bait for some crazy? There must be a better way to go at this.” Neil looked concerned and set the cookies aside.

  “Well, there isn’t. Like I said, he can’t be arrested for what he is doing. He must do something to be arrested for—like admitting to being in my house when Mom died. The shock of the break-in caused her final stroke, but we have to get him to admit to breaking in. And that is where me and the wire come in. I told him I’d sign, but he had to come here and face me and then he could never bother me again. We made that deal on the phone.”

  “I don’t like this. I know it is not my business, but I don’t like the idea of you being in harm’s way just to get a confession out of him.” Neil tried not to sound confrontational, after all she finally came to visit him, but hoped he sounded concerned enough that she might rethink her plan.

  “I don’t see another way, and the police will be in the restaurant if he comes there, as well as at the post office. I think it will work.” Billie adjusted her sunglasses as a fish flopped in the water by the boat. Shrimpers were beginning to come in, and with them, the gulls followed. Larger fish were sometimes driven closer to shore because of the boats, and then the bait fish scrambled to get out of their way.

  “So, you brought me cookies to tell me this?” Neil gestured toward the container.

  “My mother always said you take a gift to the host if you are visiting.” Billie smiled, and Neil felt himself melting. This woman had an effect on him that he had not felt in a long time. “And to help soften the blow. I knew you wouldn’t like it. None of my friends have, but they’ve agreed to support me because they know it is important to me.”

  Neil fidgeted in his seat. “If you want to do it, I’ll support you. I’ll be at the restaurant or the post office or both. I can walk with you if you want.”

  “No, I need to do this by myself. If you walk me to the post office, it will scare him off. You and the police must be out of sight. Eat at the restaurant like always, but then I’ll walk by myself to the post office. and after I get the confession, the police will move in. Then you and I can walk home together or something, okay?” Billie reached for Neil’s hand, and she felt like electric velvet. Her long fingers brushed over his hand and landed lightly on his. She looked up into his eyes, and he hoped he didn’t look as dopey as he felt. She cleared her throat. “Do you still want to teach me to fish?” She nodded toward the water.

  “I’d love to, but I don’t know if they are biting today. I’ve hardly had a nibble all day long.” Neil got up from the chair, moving with incredible slowness, afraid he would act too eager, and reached for the pole he had been using. “But first you’ll have to sit on the throne—otherwise known as the fishing chair.” He smiled and held the chair for her to sit in. She stood and moved to sit in the seat, and he was once again struck by her grace. She took the pole from him and sat, placing one foot on the side of the boat propped and ready for the big one to strike. Then he reached around her to show her how to cast.

  Chapter 38

  Neil took the pole and demonstrated the art of casting sideways and overhead. She had a choice. Then he demonstrated the button that released the line and stepped back. She looked out into the water, swung back and forward making a perfect cast, then looked up at him knowingly.

  “You’ve done this before.” Neil’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

  “Well, I did grow up on an island with Sandy’s Uncle Paul.”

  “Paul taught you to fish, and you come in here acting like you don’t know what you’re doing?” Neil stood with his hands on his hips.

  “Well, a little. My first love was music, and Sandy’s meteorology, but we did go out fishing with Uncle Paul now and then.” Billie pushed her sunglasses up on her head. Neil hovered near by. She liked him more than she wanted to let on.

  The sun began its downward trend toward the water, and the shadows lengthened. Neil and Billie chatted like old friends—when a strike hit Billie’s line. Expertly she pulled and wound the reel. “Get a net! We may have dinner after all.” Neil obediently reached for the net and leaned over the side. The dark gray sea bass struggled to break free. Billie took the net from his hand, scooped the flopping fish from the water, and giggled when it splattered her with salty water. She picked it up by the lip and pulled the hook from its mouth. Her face radiated with accomplishment as water droplets rolled down and dripped off her chin.

  “Did Uncle Paul teach you to clea
n it too?” Neil pushed his hat back on his head.

  “Normally we let him do that for us. I hated to cut the poor things up.” Billie handed the still dripping fish to Neil.

  “Want to stay for supper?” Neil asked holding the wiggling fish. “We can have fish and potatoes. That’s about all I’ve got. Oh, and cookies for dessert.”

  “I’d love to.” Billie brushed her hair back as the sun glinted through it. She hadn’t felt this free in a while. Maybe Neil was right about fishing—it could be calming to the soul. “That is if you’ll clean him.” She stared at the fish.

  “Oh, I see; you’ll catch ’em, but I have to clean ’em.”

  “I’ll do the dishes.” Billie wound a curl around her finger.

  “Sold.” Neil reached into the tackle box for the fillet knife and walked to the back of the boat where he cleaned the fish.

  Billie held her hand up to her face to shade her eyes from the setting sun. Fish flopped in the distance, and the sun sparkled on the water like diamonds. She watched as he expertly cleaned the fish, and then washed the area free of blood. Sea gulls gathered overhead in anticipation—then dove for the morsels.

  She followed Neil to the galley as he carried the fish fillets to refrigerate them. Down in the bowels of the boat sat the tiny kitchen with a half-sized refrigerator, two burner stove, and cabinets that held plastic dishes. With only room for one person, she and Neil danced around each other. He reached for the platter to place the fish on for refrigeration and hit her in the head with his elbow.

  “Sorry,” they both said in unison.

  “The potatoes are in the cabinet behind you. I’d get them myself…” Neil pointed to the cabinet she leaned against.

  Billie turned around and opened the door, staring into the dim cabinet. She saw the bag of potatoes stored in the cool, dark area. She pulled out two approximately the same size and took one step to the half-sized sink turning on the water. “Do you have a scrubber?”

  Neil pointed to the cabinet underneath. Billie wondered if he scrubbed the potatoes and the dishes with the same brush.