Harper sighed in frustration. By the time he’d decided to pursue her, the island was riddled with murders and he was up to his neck in trying to solve them. It was the wrong time to pursue a new relationship, especially with a woman as skittish as Barbara. He needed time to woo her.
By the time they’d caught the funeral home owner, some snot-nosed kid had caught her attention. Harper shook his head. What a sophisticated woman like Barbara saw in that boy, he didn’t know. But there it was.
It had been many years since Harper had had to work to get a date. Hell, since high school, women approached him. He stifled a groan. He had his work cut out with Barbara, though.
He wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t a stalker either, but as far as he was concerned, Barbara was his. The relationship she was in was doomed to failure. He was a long way from thinking of a permanent relationship, but Barbara wasn’t from the island and wasn’t encumbered with the problems islanders presented.
“John’s on line one, Harper,” the dispatcher said on the intercom.
Harper picked up the phone.
“Got a dead body here.”
Harper tightened his grip on the phone. “Who is it?”
“Don’t know. It’s been here a while.”
“Shit.” Harper scooted back the chair. “I’ll call the coroner.”
His second call was to another retired deputy to keep any crowd at bay so that he and his deputy could actually work the scene. Harper got there ten minutes ahead of the local doctor, who was also the coroner. Slipping on crime scene bootees and plastic gloves, he waded through the marsh to the water’s edge, focusing on the scene around him.
John was snapping pictures and Scott had set cones out, blocking the driveway, but stayed well away from the body.
Harper looked for old tire tracks or footprints, wondering how the body had gotten there. It was a woman. Had someone merely dumped her off a boat? Even from ten feet, he could see red polish on her long nails and wondered if someone was walking around with scratches from when she fought him off.
There was one set of fresh footprints, made by John. Any older ones had long ago washed away with the rain. But something was there. There always was. And they’d find it.
Harper went closer and stooped near the body. One arm was caught on a bush—as if the bush had grown around her. Up close, the pungent odor of death and decay rose to his nostrils, the scent mixing with the natural decay of the marsh. Caught in the underbrush, the body had decomposed enough that the face was unrecognizable, although most of her body was intact. Birds had obviously attacked it, and animals, too, but not enough to drag parts away.
“If I hadn’t been checking out this area, the corpse could have gone a lot longer without discovery,” John said. “Maybe eventually work loose in a storm to disappear into the ocean.” At six feet, John wore his uniform and a yellow county-issued coat identifying him as part of the Paradise Island Sheriff’s Department.
“I’m thinking she’s that missing woman, the one who worked for Mr. Hughes,” John said. “Sarah Rhodes.”
Harper nodded in agreement. She was the only one missing that they knew of. And since she wasn’t from the island and her family hadn’t pressed the fact that she was indeed missing when Hughes called them, they’d believed she had simply stopped working for the older man.
Harper glanced toward the house and called the deputy who worked the night shift to get out of bed and get a search warrant for the house. Afterward, they began to process the scene. They had a long day of charting, measuring, photographing, and collecting evidence before them.
Dusk fell by the time they were ready to leave the scene. The corpse had been taken to Norfolk to the medical examiner’s office, and the coming and going of the curious stopping to gawk had stopped with it. The woman’s purse was missing, as well as any form of identification, but they’d gotten good fingerprints.
Harper began assigning duties. Since Sarah Rhodes was the only missing person on record, they would work under the presumption that the corpse was hers until a formal identification was made. Either way, a woman was stabbed.
“John, I want you to interview the ferry captain and docking captains at the ferry. Find out everything you can about Sarah Rhodes. Whom she associated with. She’s been riding that ferry for months and the workers get to know regulars.”
Then Harper focused his attention on the other officer. “Scott, interview people in town. See if we can get some leads. I’m going to interview Lambert Hughes.”
Scott had worked for the department for thirty-five years before he retired three years ago. Harper didn’t need to spell out every tiny detail for him. The two men left for their cars and Harper went to his. He’d opened the trunk to discard his bootees and gloves when he heard a stringent voice.
“Harper?”
In annoyance, he focused on Tracy Moore as the island’s lone pest of a reporter jogged toward him.
“I need a statement. Who was that? What condition was the body in? What can you tell me?”
“We were unable to identify the body. It has been taken to the medical examiner’s office for an autopsy and identification.”
“So you think it was murder?”
“We can’t make a determination until the medical examiner does an autopsy.”
“Come on, Harper, give me something to work with here. Do you think it’s Sarah Rhodes who worked for Lambert Hughes?”
“I can’t make any assumptions. After we identify the body, and contact the family, we’ll release the information to the public. You already know that, Tracy. Now, I’ve got a job to do.”
“Harper…”
“That’s it, Tracy.”
Sighing, she left for her car, trying to flag down John. But John had pulled off; dejected, she left.
Harper headed to Lambert Hughes’s place, just a mile away. He’d confiscated four knives on the property. They’d all been placed in evidence bags, dated, and sealed.
Who was she? Harper wondered at her story. Did she know her abductor? Was it rape, robbery, an irate boyfriend? Was it a stranger or someone familiar?
Hughes’s housekeeper answered the door.
“We saw a lot of traffic up the road. What’s going on, Sheriff?” the woman asked.
“And you are?”
“Minerva Stone. My brother and I moved here a few months ago with his son.”
“A body was found in the marsh,” he said. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Hughes.”
“Come on in,” she said, directing him to the kitchen where Lambert was eating dinner.
“Evening, Sheriff. What brings you here?” Lambert asked, struggling out of his seat. He was an ancient man, though he was still rather fit for his age. He was slim with a medium brown complexion. Probably close to five ten or eleven at one time, but no more than five seven now. Harper often saw him on daily walks.
“Don’t bother to stand. I have a few questions about Sarah Rhodes.”
“Is she the one you found in the marsh?” Minerva asked.
“The body hasn’t been identified,” Harper told her, then focused on Lambert.
“My Lord.”
Harper started again. “Could you tell me the last time you saw her?”
“It was a month ago. I called it in. Just didn’t show up for work one morning. I wrote it all down because I don’t remember the way I used to.” He struggled from his seat and started pulling out drawers.
“I’ll help you,” Minerva said, busily searching through the drawers.
“Do you know the people she associated with on the island?” Harper asked.
Lambert’s hand hovered over some papers as he shook his head. “I don’t know. We never went anywhere except to the golf course at the base and to my doctor’s appointments.”
“She never took you grocery shopping, Lambert?” Minerva asked, outraged. “Or riding around?”
Lambert shook his head. “She shopped for my groceries each week.”
“Y
ou poor thing,” she said, patting his arm. “Kept you closed up in here like a prisoner.”
“She wasn’t nearly as good as you, Minerva, but she was a nice girl,” Lambert said, smiling at Minerva as if in a lovesick daze.
What the heck? Did Lambert have the hots for his housekeeper? “Did she mention any of her friends?” Harper asked, bringing the conversation back to Sarah. “Anybody she had problems with?”
“No. Never,” Lambert said, tearing his gaze from Minerva.
“Anybody ever pick her up from here?”
“Sometimes she caught a ride if her car was in the shop. That was often. She needed a new one.”
“Who did she catch rides with?”
“I never saw the cars and she never mentioned names. But I had written down some things to refresh my memory just in case and now…” He started digging through the drawers again and so did the helpful Minerva, who spent more time listening than working.
Although Lambert searched, he couldn’t find his notes. Handing him a business card and telling him to call if he remembered anything, Harper was forced to leave with very little information.
At least he knew Sarah often caught rides to the house. Maybe she’d caught a ride the day she disappeared. The cottage near the body was rarely used in the fall and winter. But islanders knew that.
Two miles away, Barbara spritzed on perfume and sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was go out on a date with Andrew Stone. But for her plan to work, she had to pretend to be involved in a relationship with him.
Her cell phone rang and she looked at the number. Andrew. Perhaps he was canceling.
“Barbara?” he said when she answered.
“Yes?”
“I can’t get the car tonight. You think we can take your car?”
Barbara took the phone from her ear. Was she dealing with a high-school boy? This man was thirty-five years old and he had to go to his daddy for a car?
“I’ll be happy to drive,” Barbara said sweetly. “I’ll pick you up in a few minutes,” she said, then disconnected.
Honestly, it was easier working a legitimate job than to go through the nonsense Andrew’s father put him through. If he’d had a job, he wouldn’t have to ask his father’s permission to use a car or for spare money. He’d have his own. He was a single man with no responsibility. It wouldn’t take that much for him to find a place to live, especially in a place like Paradise Island, where prices were still reasonable.
Maybe it was a good thing she was picking him up.
She donned a Chanel pantsuit and paired it with a Louis Vuitton purse and Gucci shoes, then went to her jewelry box. She slid a diamond ring on her finger, large diamond earrings, and a matching necklace. Let them see she was well off.
If it was one thing the Stones knew, it was the cost of designer goods. She’d put herself through the trouble of trooping to some of New York’s famous sales outlets before she left. The places were packed with businesswomen fighting over designer discounts.
Quite frankly, she thought it was a waste of good money to spend it on high-priced designer wear when that money could be invested. But she knew it would impress the Stones, and she had to play her role. So she’d been one of the women shoving and pushing, trying to get to the best choices. It was worse than a day on the stock market. But it had paid off.
The Stones lived on the other side of the island near Mrs. Claxton. The kitchen light was on in Mrs. Claxton’s house when Barbara exited the car.
Andrew slammed out of the door as Barbara walked toward the house. His light brown face disclosed the early ravages of a drunk. He was no more than five nine or ten and his clothes drowned him.
“I’m ready,” he said.
“Can’t I at least greet your aunt and dad?” she asked.
“I thought…”
“It won’t take long. I don’t want to be rude coming in their yard and leaving without speaking.”
Andrew stopped as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Oh.” He was used to being led so she didn’t have to work to get him to follow her lead.
Jesus Christ! For this she gave up breakfast with the sheriff?
She hid her exasperation as she perused his jeans and sweater. They were designer, but still jeans. He had the audacity to wear a jean jacket over that. She hoped he had enough money on him to pay for dinner, because she planned to select the most expensive items on the menu.
She opened the door.
“Hello…” she called out.
“Barbara?” Minerva responded. “It’s so good to see you.”
Barbara crossed the floor and kissed the woman on the cheek. “It’s good to see you, too. Hi, Elliot,” Barbara said as he entered the room. Both of them dressed far above what one would think they could afford with Minerva working as a companion. Even Elliot’s shoes were made of soft expensive leather.
“Oh, doesn’t she look pretty, Elliot,” Minerva said, checking out the goods.
Elliot looked at her as though he was calculating to the penny what everything cost just as she’d been. “Does that.”
Barbara grabbed Andrew’s arm and moved close. “Andrew’s treating me to dinner in Virginia Beach. Thought I’d dress for the occasion.”
“I like that purse,” Minerva said.
“This old Louis Vuitton? I’m almost embarrassed to carry it, it’s so old. But it matches the outfit. I need to update the wardrobe, but I’m always working and don’t get to New York as often as I’d like.”
“I’ve always wanted a Louis Vuitton purse,” Minerva said, still checking out the goods with an envious sigh. “But they’re so expensive. Never could afford one.”
Barbara bet she owned more than one Louis Vuitton, but she’d play the game. “Well, my friend told me about this sale coming up after Thanksgiving. I’m going to New York on a spending spree. Get myself a few new things for the holidays,” Barbara said. “I’ve worked hard enough to deserve a little splurge. Let’s see what Santa can do about that purse.”
“You were telling me about this stockbroker friend of yours,” Elliot said, shaking his head. “Stock market isn’t doing too well right now. Risky business to be in.”
“It’s all a matter of choosing the right ones. My friend gets the news ahead of time. I know inside trading isn’t quite legal, but it’s how the real money is made,” Barbara almost whispered, then looked fearful. “You won’t say anything about this, will you? She could get in trouble with the Securities and Exchange Commission.”
“Oh, no. No,” Elliot said, shaking his head. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Those diamonds are something else,” Minerva said, glaring at the stones on Barbara’s ears and neck, not to mention the rock on her finger.
“A girl’s best friend.”
“Ready?” Andrew asked impatiently.
“I’m sorry I took so long, sweetie.” She feigned an affectionate smile. “I didn’t want to be rude to your family.”
“You picked yourself a winner this time,” Elliot said. “Y’all have a nice evening.”
Barbara smiled up at Andrew. “We will.”
Elliot approached Andrew and slipped folded bills to him.
Pocketing the money, Andrew led her out. When he started to the driver’s side, she let him get the door for her.
He looked disappointed. “I thought I was going to drive.”
“No, honey,” she told him pointedly and pinched his cheek. “I love the power behind a wheel,” she added, and slid into the smooth leather seat.
Barbara didn’t bother to look his way as he made his way around the car. Was he crazy? Let him drive her brand-new Cadillac SRX Crossover? So new it still had the new-car smell. She stifled a chuckle. Not in this lifetime.
CHAPTER 2
Andrew’s gaunt face was flushed with anger as he scraped change from the bottom of his jean pockets to pay for the food and tip. Barbara counted the money to make sure he left the appropriate amount.
; “Don’t know why we had to leave all that money. He just served us. Didn’t make the food.”
“If you expect good service the next time we come here, you have to tip generously.”
“We ain’t coming back.”
“This food was worth every penny,” Barbara assured him. “We are coming back.”
Andrew had suggested they eat at a fast-food joint, but Barbara had driven to an upscale restaurant. She didn’t understand him. The Stones were used to living large. Andrew must be accustomed to tipping well. And now they were acting as if they were scraping the bottom of the barrel. Barbara guessed it was part of the role they played.
“I wasn’t going to spend that much money,” Andrew said.
“One of my customers recommended this place.”
“They sell good seafood at cheaper places.” Andrew sulked in his seat. “I thought we’d go to a bar or something afterward, but I’m broke.”
“Maybe another time,” Barbara suggested, heading to the ferry.
“Well, you could…”
Barbara glanced at the illuminated clock on the dashboard. “It’s late and I have to work tomorrow.” As if she would buy him drinks. She didn’t think so. And since he’d spent all his money on her dinner, he certainly couldn’t afford to buy any.
Neither of them got out of the car to catch the breeze on the ferry. Andrew sulked and Barbara turned the radio to an R&B station.
As the DJ’s seductive voice came on, Barbara leaned her head against the headrest. She couldn’t help thinking the music was better heard between the sheets with a lover. God, wouldn’t it be nice to be seduced by a live man rather than the vocalist’s mesmerizing voice.
Sometimes…Barbara swallowed around the dryness in her throat. The music took her to a more intimate and giving place in her soul. Sometimes she wished she had somewhere to go with those thoughts. That she didn’t have to keep all her feelings bottled up. There were times her toys just weren’t enough. But when you had nothing else, this would have to do.
“I shoulda let you come back to the island alone and stayed in Norfolk.”
The shock of Andrew’s grating voice was like a glass of icy water thrown in her face.
Island of Deceit Page 3
