6 Martini Regrets

by Phyllis Smallman

  I climbed up on the trampoline. There was no cross in the center to keep me oriented, and with no spotters, I warned myself to take it easy and find my balance. I bounced gently, getting my feel back and finding courage, and quickly found that what I’d once thought I was pretty great at now made me feel awkward and silly. A little higher. Still okay. With each spring into the air I felt the steel bands loosening around my gut, felt my knees relaxing and absorbing the shock of hitting the mat.

  I lifted my feet out in front of me and hit the mat with my butt, a little hard and off balance, falling sideways. Encouraged, I tried again. I couldn’t quite make it back to a standing position, but at least I hadn’t injured myself.

  I bounced higher and higher, the freedom of motion taking away the apprehension and dread I’d lived with for weeks. My whole body began to buzz with the joy of soaring high enough to look through the glass panels on the walkway.

  I was there twenty or thirty minutes, maybe more—long enough to be able to hit the rubber mat and bounce back to my feet again, but not long enough to get up the courage to try a somersault in the air. Some tricks are best left on the gym floor.

  I stretched out on my back on the trampoline. Cumulus clouds, in separate little fleecy puffs, dotted the sky. A wedge of ducks flew over, heading down the coast to Captiva Island. God, why hadn’t I thought of this before? Somewhere along the line I’d given up exercise for booze as a stress reliever. I might have to rethink my choice.

  I planted my hands on the surround bar and somersaulted off. Sloppy, falling backwards onto the edge of the equipment but landing on my feet, I’d get no points for dismount.

  I’d barely regained my balance when Buddy set up an uproar. Just that fast, my angst was back. I ducked low and ran to hide behind a pillar, pressing my tense body against the unyielding surface. My heart was pounding. It didn’t slow until I heard Silvio talking to the parrot.

  I let out my breath and wiped the sweat from my face. “Crazy woman.” I went to join Silvio and watched Buddy take his bows.

  Liz leaned over the railing above us. “Silvio, Sherri, come up here, please. We need witnesses for our signatures.”

  “Okay,” Silvio answered, tucking one more almond into Buddy’s cage.

  After Clay and Liz had signed the contracts and we’d added our signatures, they had drinks to celebrate while I went to our bedroom and climbed into the shower. As the water poured over me, I wondered what Liz was hiding behind the plastic curtain in her beautiful shower and tried to figure out how I could get a look behind the curtain.

  When I went back outside the three of them were still on the veranda, with fresh drinks in their hands, watching boats go by and enjoying the day.

  I helped myself to the nuts and asked, “Do people ever try to come onto the island?”

  Silvio said, “Not when I’m here.” He struck a hero’s pose and patted his chest. “It’s my job to keep them off.”

  Liz placed her empty highball glass on a silver tray. “A drink, Sherri?”

  “Sure, how about a soda?”

  Clay looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

  I said, “But first I want to make a call, check on things at the restaurant.” I held up my cell phone. “I can’t get a signal.”

  Liz said, “Cell service is spotty out here. There’s no tower. There’s a SAT phone on the boat. Use that, or if you want to send an e-mail, we have marine satellite Internet, but it’s slow and hit-or-miss.” Liz picked up the tray. “There’s also VHF and EPIRB on the Dancing Lady II, so we’re not totally cut off.” A small smile teased Liz’s lips. “As long as you can get down to the boats.”

  I said, “Even if I can get to the boats, I don’t know how those systems operate.”

  Silvio set his glass on the table and got to his feet. “Come on, I’ll show you how it works.”

  Following Silvio down the stairs, I asked, “Why don’t you have a SAT phone in the house?”

  “Lousy reception in a concrete building, better on the boat. Besides, Liz calls having phone service ‘being at everyone’s beck and call.’”

  Liz and not Ms. Aiken; I was betting a little more than strictly business was going on here.

  Silvio stopped and fed Buddy another nut.

  “The guard bird does all right.”

  “He deserves it.” He made clicking sounds at the parrot. “He’s the early warning system when people get too curious.”

  “Ah, you mean when boaters drop in.”

  “Exactly.”

  Too curious was an odd way of putting it. I wanted to ask, “Curious about what?” Instead I said, “But don’t the mangroves and the gate keep them out?”

  “It’s a nuisance to keep the gate locked during the day. Every once in a while an unwanted sightseer decides to venture past the dock. Buddy lets us know.”

  “So, at night you’re behind locked gates with no telephone service, cut off from the world?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I shuddered.

  He gave me a questioning look and said, “You okay?”

  “Sure, fine.” I tried to smile at him. “I’m not used to being so remote.”

  He stepped onto the boat and held out his hand to me.

  I took his hand and stepped aboard.

  Silvio turned on the communication system and the large microwave antenna automatically turned to track satellites. We got a signal right away. I got through to the restaurant and started asking if the wine delivery had arrived.

  Gwen clearly thought I had lost my mind. “It arrived before you left,” she pointed out.

  “Yes, that’s right. How are reservations?”

  “Fine.” She drew the word out cautiously, and then Gwen said, “What the hell is going on?”

  “I missed you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I handed the phone to Silvio. “I’ve never used one before. Show me again how to make a call if I needed to. I want to be sure I know how it works.”

  He nodded as though he thought I was perfectly sane. When we’d gone through it again, he jumped up on the dock and waited for me. A boat pulled in close to stare at the flying fortress above us. Silvio pointed at it and said, “It’s something that happens over and over. Dancing Lady is a marker for passing boaters, something to show the guests.”

  Silvio waved a greeting but waited on the dock until they’d pulled away.

  When we’d passed through the gate he locked it, pulling on the steel bars to test that it was firmly in place before he removed the key and stuffed it in his pocket.

  There was no leaving the compound now. So much for knowing how to use the communication system. I could no longer get to it.

  Clay wasn’t usually much of a drinker, but when Silvio and I rejoined him and Liz on the deck, he downed two scotches in a row, on top of what he drank while I was in the shower. It was an unheard of number for him. Working on a fresh one and becoming very mellow, Clay regaled us with stories of his sailing trip to Cuba. “The captain was a Nazi, and the only other crew member was a drunk. It was the trip from hell.”

  Silvio started talking about where he’d sailed, from Key West to the Caribbean and south as far as Venezuela. His trips had been just as adventurous as Clay’s, making me even more determined to stay home. I hate traveling—another thing Clay and I disagreed on.

  “And now it’s time to think about dinner.” Liz drained the last of her scotch and got to her feet, overbalancing and giggling. “Whoopsie.” She was in no better shape than Clay.

  “I’ll come with you,” I said, gathering up the glasses.

  I followed as she weaved her way inside. It looked like our hostess was zipped. But then, she might be as sober as I was. I hadn’t actually seen how much she’d had to drink.

  “This is something of a farewell dinner,” Liz said and opened the refrigerator. “Let’s make it good.�
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  “A farewell dinner?”

  She stood looking into the depths of the fridge like she couldn’t remember what she was there for. “Things are changing. We’ll be leaving the island.” She closed the door and stood there staring at the blank steel surface, lost in her own world.

  I went over and stood beside her. She looked at me vaguely and then wandered over to sit at the granite bar. I opened the French door of the refrigerator and started taking out salad greens. There was a large piece of something wrapped in butcher’s paper that Silvio had brought in a cooler back from Boca. I unwrapped it and set the sirloin in a bowl to marinate and then searched around until I found potatoes and got them ready for baking.

  Liz planted her elbow on the counter and propped her head up with her fist. “You’re my kind of guest: one that cooks,” she lisped. If she wasn’t drunk, it was a damn good imitation. “I think all guests should come prepared to cook.”

  “I like to cook, but at the restaurant Miguel never lets me and I’m never home to make a meal.” I pulled the cord on the lettuce spinner. “We eat at the Sunset most days.”

  Liz watched me silently. At last she said, “I think I’ll have myself another little drink.” Her cheeks were a lovely alcoholic rose, but I still wasn’t convinced she was as inebriated as she pretended to be. Some people’s faces grew flushed after one drink.

  She poured the scotch over ice as I said, “I’m surprised you haven’t got more staff.”

  Her head tilted sideways and she studied me. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve let them all go. I invested in some risky hedge funds, and now I’m just about bankrupt.” She looked confused. “What the hell are hedge funds anyway?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  There was only hurt in her eyes. “Me either, but I’m trimming my assets like I’d prune a sick plant, cutting out deadwood and rot.” She gave a broad wave of her hand to indicate tossing away something unnecessary and unreliable, but the movement nearly toppled her off the seat. “I’ll do anything necessary to survive this, but survive I will.”

  And that was precisely what worried me.

  She considered me as she said, “I’m surprised Clay didn’t tell you. I thought you two were the type who told each other everything.”

  “So did I.” The truth was, Clay knew Liz’s need for money would feed my paranoia. Even now, I was considering just what Liz had done for money. “So, that’s why you’re selling the island.”

  “Dancing Lady sucks money, so she has to go, and the yacht is already sold. Silvio and Cassandra are delivering it to the new owner over in Miami next week. I’ll drive over and bring them back. Want to come along for the ride?”

  “Sorry, can’t make it.” It would be a day or two yet before I was ready for that trip. “It must be hard to give this up.”

  She tilted her head to the side, considering. “Kurt’s family owned this island for fifty years.”

  I crushed some garlic and dumped it into a bowl. “You mean when I was a kid, playing out here, that’s who it belonged to?”

  “Yup. I always dreamed of building a house here. Unfortunately I picked the worst time to do it. I got caught in the economy swirling down the toilet, like everyone else. When one thing went wrong, a whole lot followed.”

  I squeezed a lemon into the oil and garlic for the salad dressing, but I was focused on Liz. “It must be hard to give up on your dream.”

  “At least I got to have my dream; most people don’t. I can’t cry if the dream didn’t last. They seldom do.”

  I whisked the dressing and studied her. “Finding the black orchid is important to you, might be the thing that saves you.”

  She grimaced. “Saving me would take millions, not thousands.”

  The amount took my breath away.

  Clay grilled the steaks for the long, boozy dinner on the deck high above the water. I no longer wondered if Liz was inebriated. They all were. Except for me. I was cold sober . . . and waiting. Don’t ask me what I was waiting for because I didn’t know. I just knew I wanted to be ready when it came.

  I was alone with three intoxicated people on a locked-down island, with evil circling. At least, I thought we were alone. I hadn’t checked out the helipad or the mechanical sheds. Who knew what was waiting out there? Even though it didn’t make sense, I couldn’t stop my imagination from coming up with scenarios like that.

  I collected the plates on either side of me. “What will you do when you sell your island, Liz?”

  Liz filled her water glass until it spilled over the brim. “Ben left me his nursery.” She set the water jug down but made no move to mop up the spill. “The fire destroyed the buildings and all Ben’s mother’s orchids are gone, but at least the land is there. I’m going to start over doing what I love, breeding plants.” She raised her glass. Water slopped over the lip onto her hand. Without taking a drink, she set the glass back on the table with a thud, spilling more water.

  Liz leaned forward, planting her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands. “I’ve been thinking about why he did that, why he left me the nursery. I think he knew about Susan, knew that she stabbed Kurt. She must have told Ben, and this was his way of thanking me.”

  Maybe it was true. Liz had got rich by making deals and taking chances. If she knew she would inherit the nursery, she might have killed Ben to get it. And Liz was the one who had just come back from Peru, the world center for the collection of wild orchids. Had she smuggled the orchid into the country and sold it to Ben? Or was Ben just representing her? Either way, I wasn’t ruling Liz out for involvement in Ben’s death.

  It didn’t make sense that Liz would destroy everything at the nursery she stood to inherit, but maybe the blaze had gotten out of control, with unexpected consequences. The fire was probably meant to wipe out evidence, not the whole plant center.

  I carried the plates to the kitchen and was loading the dishwasher when Clay headed down the corridor to our suite. I followed him.

  As I closed the bedroom door, Clay lifted his head from his overnighter. “What’s the matter?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered. “Tell Liz I’m sick.”

  “Are you?”

  “No.”

  He pulled a big envelope out of his bag. “You’re being irrational.” He went to the nightstand and picked up a leather portfolio. “Go if you want to, but I’m staying.” He left the room.

  I wasn’t going anywhere without Clay.

  In the living room, I listened as Clay and Liz schemed on ways to maximize the profit of selling the island. First they discussed breaking the island up into lots and selling them off, something that seemed an easier sell than getting rid of the whole island. They even discussed developing Dancing Lady into a resort. Given enough time and scotch, they’d probably have drawn up plans to turn it into a pirate-themed island park for boaters. I wasn’t sure if any of their ideas were practical or if they were just having fun. What struck me was that Silvio was right in the thick of it, and in the end he was the one who rejected an idea or said if it was possible. Liz, the independent woman, seemed to have a partner.

  At one point, Liz turned to Silvio and said, “What do you think, Silvio?”

  He replied, “It isn’t any crazier than Ethan showing up here and searching for Ben’s orchid.” They both roared with laughter.

  Clay’s eyes met mine over their heads. His forehead wrinkled in concern. He was just sober enough to get what was happening between Silvio and Liz.

  I rose to my feet and left them. Out on the deck the night was as soft as satin upon my skin. Beyond the mangroves the running lights of Liz’s yacht were on, outlining it and keeping it safe from boats traveling at night, but making it look like a great big target for thieves. The lights must have been on a timer, because Silvio hadn’t left us
to turn them on. Silvio had said SAT communications were best on the yacht. That’s where I wanted to be. Spending the night on the yacht seemed like a better idea than being in the house.

  I stood there and told myself that my fear had gotten out of hand. Everything was just as it seemed. This was just a beautiful island. But there were too many things getting in my way. The biggest of these was finding that parcel on my desk. But there was something else, something that had happened on the night of the ball and was just out of sight. As I leaned on the rail, my mind turned over rocks of memory. It was something I’d seen, something that had frightened me. I felt a jolt of excitement as it crystallized. What came back to me was the memory of arriving at Selby Gardens. An earlier image, seen online and vaguely remembered, floated across my brain to merge with what I’d seen through the limo window.

  I needed a computer. I went back inside.

  “May I use your computer, Liz?”

  “Sure,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It’s in my office.”

  And the office could only be accessed through her bedroom with the attached bath, the room that held Liz’s little secret.

  CHAPTER 37

  The master bedroom was dark. I walked through to the gallery, with only the hall light behind me to guide my steps. The generator hummed in the distance. It was the engine that kept Dancing Lady going; without that thrum of machinery the house would shut down. Even as I thought that, the generator went silent. I held my breath, but the light in the hall stayed on.

  I turned on a floor lamp. All the furniture surfaces were mirrored, which made the light bounce around the room. The most formal room of the mansion, with blue damask on the walls and a matching duvet, it was like stepping into a picture in a magazine.

  The office was through French doors off the left side of the bedroom. I booted up the computer, then went to the hall door and peeked out to make sure no one was coming to check up on me. The hall was empty. I was alone.