Island of Deceit

by Candice Poarch

  “You should have,” Barbara murmured, glad the ferry was pulling up to the dock. She was ready to kill him.

  Once they disembarked, Barbara drove directly to the Stones’ house, and since the light was on, to Andrew’s dismay, she went inside again.

  Wearing a smoking jacket and silk pajamas, Elliot was reading the paper in the living room as if he were waiting up to make sure his high-school child didn’t break curfew. He placed the paper on the badly scarred coffee table and stood when Barbara entered the room.

  “Ya’ll have a good time?” he asked, nodding at Barbara.

  “Just wonderful,” Barbara said, smiling brightly, but Andrew merely grunted.

  “You and Minerva have to try out this restaurant. The food was excellent, wasn’t it, Andrew?”

  “Expensive…”

  “We will,” Elliot said, ignoring Andrew. Barbara noticed he often ignored Andrew. “Have a seat.”

  Barbara settled as comfortably as she could on the badly sprung army-green sofa. Andrew elected to stand in the doorway, sulking.

  Minerva joined them with a silk scarf tied around her curlers and wearing expensive off-white lounging pajamas.

  “How do you like your new job, Minerva?” Barbara asked as the older woman settled on a cushioned ladder-back chair across from her.

  “This isn’t my usual lifestyle. I only took it because Lambert needed someone so badly. He’s all alone, poor thing. I’m blessed to have a brother and nephew so close. But Lambert is nice and not demanding. Otherwise, I simply couldn’t work for him.”

  “We lost a lot in the stock market,” Elliot said. “Everybody’s cutting back with the downturn in the economy.”

  “You heard about the body they found in the marsh?” Minerva asked. “It was so close to where I work it just gives me the shivers.”

  “Some of my customers mentioned a lot of activity near Mr. Hughes’s house.”

  “Well, the sheriff asked Lambert questions about that girl, Sarah Rhodes.”

  “Was it her?”

  “He wouldn’t say. Said he couldn’t identify the body. But he wouldn’t ask questions if he didn’t think it was her.”

  “That poor girl,” Barbara commiserated, saddened, even though she believed all along that Elliot had gotten rid of her. She’d hoped Sarah had found another job, but if Elliot did kill her, what was one more murder to him?

  “Andrew said you paid for your shop outright with the money you made from investments,” Elliot said after a brief comment about Sarah’s untimely demise.

  Barbara nodded. “I’ve always invested well. I have a very good broker I’ve used for twenty years,” she said, noticing Elliot was hanging on to every word like it was the Gospel.

  “We’ve been friends since I started working in New York. You know, I considered retiring instead of opening a shop here, but what would I do with all that time on my hands? I may as well make more money.”

  “You’re a smart woman,” Elliot said.

  Andrew moved toward the door that led to the back of the house.

  “Where you going, boy?” Elliot asked. “You got company. Sit down.”

  Mouth pressed tight, Andrew sank into a chair in the corner, even though Barbara had the couch to herself and there was plenty of room for him.

  “I tell you one thing,” Minerva said. “I’d travel if I didn’t have to work. I’d find plenty to do. Shopping would be at the top of my list.”

  “You’ve got a point there, Minerva. I’ve done a lot of traveling, but there are still places I haven’t seen yet. Maybe I’ll retire in five years. Fifty is still young. Maybe someone will want to buy me out, or I could rent booths to other hairdressers and just manage. Which shouldn’t take up much time,” she said. “I’ve saved enough for a very long retirement. I’m going to use my profits from the next few years strictly on entertainment,” she said. “You know how I like my designer things.”

  “You’ve got a brisk business in that shop. Ever thought about hiring help? Andrew…”

  “I’ve thought about it. But I can only offer my customers the best. They expect quality. Sometimes quality falls when you get other people in the mix. Just look at the stores now. You ever tried to find help when you need it? I’ve seen a man screaming for some help at the top of his voice. Stopped everyone in their tracks. And I commiserated with him because I needed some help, too, but management has cut back so much, quality service is a thing of the past.”

  “Oh, girl,” Minerva said, nodding. “Isn’t that the truth?”

  “Everybody’s got nothing but good things to say about your shop,” Elliot agreed. “You know what you’re doing. I tossed around the idea of investing in the stock market, but it’s too iffy right now. Shoulda done it while it was still going up. Right now, you’re better off putting your money in the bank.”

  Barbara shook her head. “Interest rates are way too low to make a decent profit. I work hard and I need my money to work just as hard for me. And you know that’s not happening in the bank,” she said. “You know they charge a mint on loans and credit cards, but they don’t pay you squat on your money. No way I’m putting large sums of money there,” she assured him. “It’s just a matter of knowing what to invest in and having the right broker.” Barbara stood, knowing she’d said enough to keep stringing Elliot along. “I better get going. Have to work tomorrow. Thanks for dinner, Andrew.”

  “Umm. Yeah,” he said, and escaped to the back room.

  Deep in thought, Elliot walked Barbara to her car. Even opened the door for her and closed it after she got in. She waved as she backed up. He was still watching her as she drove away.

  Designer clothes and poorly sprung sofas. What a contradiction these people were.

  The next day, Harper skipped lunch and dinner, and had consumed just half an egg sandwich for breakfast. His hunger increased with his temper and frustration.

  They all gathered in his office after the interviews.

  “What did you find?” he asked.

  John checked his notes. “Sarah was seen with lots of people from the island. Car always broke down and she was always catching rides,” he said, which confirmed what Hughes had said. “She knew lots of people here. Very friendly. Was dating Ben at the bar for a while. Hung around the bar many nights waiting for him to get off. Some nights didn’t go home. Don’t know how long ago, but they’ve broken up.” John glanced up. “We all know none of Ben’s relationships ever last.”

  “Scott?” Harper asked.

  “She was seen regularly at the Greasy Spoon, with Ben, too, especially on his days off.”

  “Did she date anyone else after they split?”

  “No, she was friendly with a lot of people, though.”

  Harper glanced at his notes. “Was Ben at the bar?”

  “He went to South Carolina to visit his family for a couple weeks,” John said.

  “In the meantime, let’s interview some of these friends of hers and find out whom she was getting rides from. One of them could have killed her. And her purse was missing. So we can’t rule out robbery. See if any of the rides were from addicts.”

  “I’ve got a couple more leads I’m going to check at the bar later on tonight,” John said.

  Harper sighed. He was going to head to the Greasy Spoon before it closed, but first he called the local real-estate agent who rented out the house to ask for identities of the people who stayed there around the time Sarah went missing.

  Another murder. His chances of getting with Barbara were growing slimmer by the minute.

  Around seven, Barbara led her last customer to the door. The hair salon had been busy, as usual, and her ears had burned all day about the woman in the marsh. The location had been so close to Barbara’s house that shivers ran up her spine just thinking about it.

  “Take care of yourself, Vanetta,” Barbara said, locking the door. She went to the cash register and began to count the day’s earnings.

  Since her husband was found dea
d—and naked with another woman—Vanetta Claxton Frasier was quickly disintegrating into a recluse. She’d asked Barbara if she could come in when there weren’t other customers. Barbara had agreed to fix her hair after her last customer left. She didn’t usually work this late on Saturdays, but the high-school children had a party that night and she was working late anyway.

  Finished with the counting, she recorded the amount in her ledger and padded to the storage room. She placed the money in the zippered pouch before stuffing the bundle in her oversized purse. Back in the salon, she straightened up and disinfected the surfaces before she swept the floor.

  Vanetta was still suffering from her husband’s death and betrayal. It was the same old thing—her husband was screwing around with other women. Men created all kinds of havoc in women’s lives, Barbara thought.

  As much as she wished for someone special in her life, she wondered if men were worth the trouble.

  Truth was, she was absolutely heartsick about Sarah’s death. Would reporting the Stones’ activities to Harper have prevented it? If the woman was Sarah, Barbara had no doubt the Stones killed her. Since Andrew didn’t have the balls to kill anyone, Elliot was her main suspect.

  Even if she’d reported what she knew, Harper couldn’t have prevented the murder. She was unaware they had chosen Lambert as their next mark until Minerva began working for him. She thought they’d choose someone in Virginia Beach.

  Barbara rubbed her forehead. Guilt had eaten at her insides like acid all day. She had a screaming headache. It was a good thing she didn’t have a date with Andrew.

  God, how many people had that family killed?

  Andrew was getting on her nerves so badly her stomach cramped just thinking about him. He tried to kiss her once. Eventually she’d have to let him, but she didn’t know how she’d tolerate it without throwing up. If she could trick that bunch of thieves any other way, she would.

  Barbara stopped for a moment to gaze around the room. It was a lovely place. Cheerful peach walls with white borders and wainscoting. She knew her grandmother owned property here, but Barbara only found out about the retail space after her death. The last lease to this building had ended more than a year ago. Naomi Claxton’s sister, Anna, had handled the rentals for her until she’d died in February. Dorsey was waiting until she and Barbara moved to the island to make a decision about renting it again.

  Barbara straightened the magazines in the rack, feeling sad at Dorsey’s loss and that she never got to enjoy her island again.

  She debated whether to drop off the day’s earnings in the bank’s night deposit box or wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow, she decided, too weary to go tonight. Her back was killing her and her feet were so tired the only thing she wanted was to get naked and slide her whole body into the tub. And she had a meeting to attend in an hour. Maybe she could shower quickly and soak her feet for just a few minutes.

  Someone banged on the door and Barbara glanced sharply toward it.

  Why would anyone be knocking on her door this time of the night? Thinking it might be the sheriff returning her hat, she eased around the corner.

  It was only Andrew. She realized then how much she wanted to see Harper again. But what was Andrew doing here? They didn’t have a date.

  Barbara groaned and summoned a smile she was far from feeling. “Hi, Andrew. I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, opening the door. “I have a meeting tonight, remember?”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve run into a little problem. I have a cash-flow situation and wondered if you could make me a little loan.”

  “I loaned you a hundred dollars a week ago. You spent it already?” She was not giving that sonofabitch another red cent. The first loan had nearly killed her.

  “How long do you expect a hundred bucks to last?” he asked. “I spent that in no time. I’ll pay you back when I get some money.”

  Like never. “I have my own bills to pay and the month has been slow.”

  “You work from sunup to sundown at this place. You’ve got to be raking in the money.”

  “That’s none of your business,” she said, nudging him toward the door. “It’s been a long day and I was on my way home.”

  “All I’m asking for is a small loan. I’ve taken you out to dinner. Showed you a couple nice evenings. Woman, you’re not cheap, you know. You cost me all the money Daddy gave me last night just to pay for your dinner.”

  “And I’ve cooked you a fine meal. But I didn’t ask for payment for services rendered.” He had some nerve. She opened the door. “It’s time for you to leave. Like I said, I have a meeting. Maybe you should consider getting a job.”

  His brows slammed together. “Listen here. No reason you can’t give me that money. You’re lucky I’m taking time out for you. Look at yourself. I try to overlook a few extra pounds. Not all men are that generous. Now you get over there and get me some of that money.”

  She pointed to the opening in the door. “Get out of my shop. Now.”

  Before she could see what was coming, he slapped her face so hard her head reared back with the impact. She balled her hands into fists.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Don’t even think of hitting me,” he said, leaning close. “I’ll whip your tail good for back talking me. You get yourself to that cash register and get me that money. I’ll take everything you earned today. Teach you a lesson to get smart with me. Who do you think you are? As a matter of fact, I’ll keep the books from now on.”

  Barbara’s eyes widened. Her cheek throbbed and the pain in her head escalated until it pounded with her heartbeat. But the pain didn’t touch the rage sizzling through her. Andrew was a damn idiot if he thought she’d let him get away with hitting her. No damn body hit her. Nobody.

  Barbara breathed deeply. “Just give me a minute. The money’s in back,” she said with amazing calm.

  “Hurry up.” He whacked her on the backside.

  Fury almost choked Barbara. He definitely needed to be taught a lesson and she was just the one to do it. Tell her she was lucky to have him. And he actually thought she’d let him control her money! A thirty-five-year-old man who couldn’t even stand up to his father? Who didn’t even work?

  Damn it. Her cheek throbbed and her head exploded.

  “Hurry up,” he shouted.

  With quick steps, she made her way to the storage room/kitchen combination. It took her only seconds to find what she needed. “I can’t open the drawer. It sticks sometimes in this damp weather,” she called out.

  “You’re about as helpless as they come.” Grumbling, he approached her. Barbara moved to the side and got into position. As soon as he poked through the door, she swung the bat and hit him—and heard the bone in his arm crack with the impact.

  He howled and she hit him again. Screaming curses, he fell to the floor, rolling and thrashing about.

  Barbara stood over him, the bat ready to swing.

  “You crazy bitch.”

  “Shut up,” she shouted.

  He quieted, his eyes buggy and wide with pain.

  “Just a warning for the future. Fat doesn’t equate with stupid or helpless.”

  He groaned.

  “Shut up. I’m not finished. You are one sorry excuse for a man. The way I see it, I’m a better catch than you. I can support myself. I don’t go begging to you or anybody else for money. You should be grateful I spend time with you. Remember that the next time you take a decent sista out.”

  She picked up the wall phone.

  “If you so much as breathe aloud while I’m on the phone, I’ll break your other arm. And you know I will.” She dialed 911.

  When the dispatcher came on, Barbara inhaled. “Oh, my God. I’m being robbed. Help me, please!”

  “Ma’am, tell me who you are and your location.”

  “Barbara Turner at the beauty salon.” She rattled off the address.

  “Barbara, are you okay? Are you hurt? This is Shirley.” Shirley Langley was one of Barbara’s customers.
>
  “Not yet, but I’m scared for my life. He may get up and kill me. Please send help! I don’t know what to do.”

  “Just hold on, honey. Someone will be there soon. Stay on the line with me. Can you get to a safe location?”

  “If I move, he may get a gun and try something. Just get somebody here fast.”

  Andrew started to get up. Barbara gripped the bat and glared at him, daring him to move, daring him to speak. With a moan, his head thumped on the floor.

  Harper was getting ready to leave for the Greasy Spoon. When he heard the report of the robbery, he hopped out of his seat so fast, he got dizzy. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked the dispatcher. “Is she hurt?”

  “She said she isn’t, but she’s afraid. She keeps a lot of money there, Harper, with all the heads she does.”

  He had to catch himself. “Anyone at the salon yet?”

  “John is on his way.”

  “So am I,” he said, rushing out the door.

  He couldn’t believe it. On his island, the woman he’d been pining for for months had been robbed. He turned on the siren and burned rubber out of the parking lot. He was only a short distance away, but it might as well have been a hundred miles the way that worst-case scenarios were zinging through his head.

  He parked near John’s patrol car and slammed out the door, mere footsteps behind John.

  Both of them came up short when they spied the squirming man on the floor and Barbara with the bat standing guard over him.

  “Ma’am, we’ll take it from here,” John said.

  Barbara lowered the bat and used it for support as she took several steps back. Her gaze met Harper’s in a nervous gesture. Suddenly, she got all fluttery.

  Andrew managed to stand, but he kept well away from Barbara.

  “What happened?” Harper asked.

  “He tried to rob me. I was closing up shop when he came by. I thought he just wanted to talk, so I opened the door. But he threatened me and tried to force me to give him today’s receipts.” Her hands were trembling as she placed one to her chest. She approached Harper with tears glistening in her eyes. “When I refused, he attacked me.”