by Junie Coffey
“Go on home, Dr. Putzel. It’s been a long day. We’ve got enough going on here tonight to keep us occupied. Mandy will be over to see you in the morning,” Blue said.
Nancy, Sylvia, and Philip climbed into Nancy’s golf cart, which was parked in the lane. Philip sat stiffly on the back bench as they drove away.
Blue gestured for his officers to take Suzanne into the station. When they were gone, he walked slowly over to where Nina, Pansy, and Danish had gathered. He stood in front of them with his hands on his hips. He looked first at them and then across the street at the row of dark shops on Water Street. Finally, he looked back at the trio of self-styled investigators.
“I would thank you for your assistance in capturing the suspect,” he said slowly, “but I don’t want to encourage such behavior in the future. Can we come to an understanding that you’ll stay out of police matters from now on?”
“Yes, sir!” said Nina, Pansy, and Danish in unison.
I really mean it this time, Nina told herself.
She looked down and saw that Danish had crossed his fingers.
Oh boy, she thought.
“All right, then, we’ve got a deal,” Blue said. “Thank you, and have a good night. I’ll be in touch. We’ll need to get your statements tomorrow, but for tonight, let’s just all get a good night’s sleep.”
He nodded to them and went into the station, his head bowed. As she watched him go, Nina felt a bit sorry for him. He’d be up all night processing Suzanne. Did he ever get to let loose while someone else was the heavy?
“I vote we head to The Redoubt for a celebratory drink,” said Danish.
“Good idea,” said Pansy.
“I’m in,” said Nina. “Just let me get this salt off first.”
13
Nina cleaned herself off with a garden hose at the marina, then stood in front of the electric hand dryer in the public washroom drying out her T-shirt and shorts. She thought about how drastically her life had changed since she and her friend Louise used to meet up at a chic downtown wine bar after work, dressed in tailored suits and heels.
She pulled her damp and salty hair into a ponytail with a rubber band and rejoined her friends. “I think I’m good to go,” she said.
The Redoubt was at full capacity when they arrived. A reggae band was playing, and the crowd on the impromptu dance floor pulsed to the beat. The tables were full of locals and tourists.
When a booth at the back became vacant, they made a beeline for it.
“I’ll get the drinks,” said Nina, weaving back through the crowd to the bar. While she stood waiting for their Goombay Smashes, she scanned the evening crowd, looking for Ted. He wasn’t there.
“Howdy, neighbor,” said a voice in her left ear. It was Les.
“Looking for someone?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. “Of course, I don’t know who that might be, but I did see Ted Matthews drive by on my stroll down here. He had a lady friend with him. Come to think of it, I saw them last night, too. Dressed to the nines. Very chic. A candlelit dinner at the Plantation Inn would be my guess. That’s his signature move.”
Nina’s heart sank.
Les took a pull on his beer, his eyes pinned on her. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of reaction.
“Buzz off, Les,” she said, and turned away.
He laughed. “Actually, I’m just in here blowing off a little steam after settling the sand-man case. It was a big win for the agency,” he said.
“And what agency might that be?” asked Nina. She was intrigued, although she didn’t want to show it. She turned slightly back toward him.
“The Ministry of Natural Resources. I’m a freelance conservation agent on special assignment to the government,” he replied with casual self-importance. “Yeah, we were executing the sting when your friend called Roker about some situation you’d gotten yourself into. Roker doesn’t lose his cool very often, but there were some fireworks tonight. You might want to think about minding your own business for a while.”
So that’s what took Blue so long, thought Nina.
“I thought you were a professional gambler. Now you’re an undercover conservation agent? Whoever heard of an undercover conservation agent? Whoever heard of a freelance undercover conservation agent? Even if it’s true, I think you screwed up on the undercover part. You’re the least covered person I’ve ever met. You’re pretty much always naked. You’re not exactly keeping a low profile, are you?”
“Ever hear the expression ‘hiding in plain sight’? Fooled you, didn’t I? And actually, I am a professional card player. I’m also a private investigator specializing in marine cases. Roker hired me on contract to gather evidence on the sand man because he’s been a little busy.” He smiled at Nina. “I am a man of many talents.”
“Sort of a poor man’s James Bond.”
“Call it whatever you want, if it makes you happy. I’m living the dream.” Les turned to look out the open doors at the water and took a long pull on the bottle of beer that always seemed to be in his hand.
A glimmer of hope dawned in Nina. “So, is that really your house or just part of your cover?”
“Oh, it’s all mine, baby, and boy, I can’t wait to get back there and unwind a little. Or a lot. I think I’m in a James Brown mood tonight. I wonder what your pal Bridget’s up to. Still waters run deep, my friend. That’s all I can say about that.”
“Bridget left this afternoon,” Nina said.
Les shrugged. “Probably for the best. She was getting too attached.”
Nina snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, playboy. She was laughing when I saw her leave for the airport.”
Nina’s drinks arrived, and she carried them back to their booth. Les followed her and slid in beside Pansy. He gave her a slimy grin, and she rolled her eyes.
“Are we celebrating something?” Les asked as Nina distributed the drinks.
“You betcha,” said Danish, providing a rapid-fire account of Suzanne’s abduction of Philip and the high-stakes parlor game she’d played with him in the isolated house by the salt ponds.
“Yeah, she’s totally nuts,” said Danish. “One of the questions she asked him was, ‘If a woman asks a man if he wants to go to the movies, what’s the right answer?’ How was he supposed to answer that without knowing all the pertinent facts, like what’s playing at the movies and what’s on TV? Apparently his answer was wrong, because she freaked out.”
“Oh, that hoary old chestnut,” said Les.
Nina ignored him and looked at Danish.
“She freaked out because she’s gone off the deep end, but also because the only correct answer to that question is yes. She isn’t asking if he wants to go to the movies. She’s telling him she does,” said Nina.
“Um, I beg to differ,” said Les, pausing to take another swig of his beer.
“Oh, really?” said Nina, waiting for him to continue.
“Yes.” He looked Danish in the eye. “For future reference, man, you have three viable options in this situation. Option A, you can call her bluff and say no, then just tune out the fallout. You’re a man and you have rights. Option B, you can make her happy and say, ‘Sure, let’s go to a movie.’ Your call. But the thing is, what she’s really asking is, ‘Do you care enough about me to want to spend quality time with me?’ So, if you don’t want to go the movies, you can go with option C and say, ‘I don’t really feel like a movie tonight, babe, but I really do want to spend some quality time with you. How about a soak in the hot tub or a sunset sail?’ Chicks love that. Or you could go for broke and say, ‘I’d like to be alone with you. Why don’t we curl up together on the sofa and watch the game?’ You see, by demonstrating that you’re aware of her emotional needs, you’ve avoided an argument, gotten out of going to a chick flick, and managed to watch the game in the comfort of your own home. Meanwhile, your chances of getting lucky are still strong.”
“Don’t take advice on women from him, Danish,” said Nina. “He’s a misogynist p
ig.”
“True, but he’s also sort of right about the first part, don’t you think?” said Pansy, wincing. “That’s exactly what that question means, sometimes.”
“Genius, man. I’m putting it in the toolbox,” Danish said admiringly, and high-fived Les across the table.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Nina. “Please, I yield the floor to someone who knows more about women than I, a woman, could possibly know.”
“I’ll accept that,” said Les. “Of course, you’re an expert on one woman. You. I, on the other hand, have gathered my expertise from many and varied sources.”
Danish laughed but stopped abruptly when Nina glared at him.
“Go away, Les!” said Nina. “This is a private party!”
“I was just leaving,” Les said as he stood, a filthy smirk on his face.
When it was just the three of them, Danish lifted his glass. “I’d like to propose a toast to us,” he said. “We’re awesome.”
“I guess I can drink to that,” said Nina.
“To us,” said Pansy. They clinked glasses and drank in unison.
“Poor Suzanne,” said Pansy. “How unhappy she must be, to follow Philip all the way down here and try to kill him.”
“She couldn’t be more different from Sylvia,” said Nina. “Sylvia should patent her approach to getting over a cheating husband. I wonder if Philip has learned anything from this.”
“Well, I’ve learned one thing. Don’t ever get married,” said Danish. “I really feel like I dodged a bullet!”
“Oh, Danish. Marriage isn’t always like that. Sometimes it’s pretty nice,” said Pansy.
Nina didn’t say anything.
“C’mon, let’s dance,” Pansy said, grabbing Nina’s hand. They joined the crowd in front of the stage and danced until the band took a break.
Pansy looked at her watch.
“It’s nine o’clock! I told Andrew I’d be home by eight at the latest.”
“Relax. My cart is in front of the post office. I’ll give you a lift home,” said Danish. “You want a ride, Nina?
“No, I think I’ll walk, thanks.”
“Night, Nina!” said Pansy, giving her a hug. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget, we still haven’t had a chance to talk about my fantastic business idea!” said Danish as they headed for the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
Danish’s business idea. Right. With any luck, he’d forget about it before Nina saw him next. But when did Danish ever forget about anything? She had a feeling she was going to have to sit through this pitch eventually. She sighed and waved goodbye.
Nina walked home along the beach, splashing through the surf in her bare feet and thinking about Suzanne and Sylvia and the very different directions their lives had taken. At home, she took a hot shower and put on fresh, salt-free clothes, then sat on the veranda with a cup of tea. It had been one strange day.
She glanced up toward the point. The lights from the guest cottages were twinkling through the trees. She wondered what Ted was doing. Had he really found himself another woman already? Was he actually bothered by her kibitzing with Les? Or maybe it was her detention in the local jail that had put him off?
She shook her head with impatience at herself. The adult thing to do would be to go see him, say hi, and clear the air. If he had company, she’d just give him his hat and go home. It would be a perfectly normal thing to do, returning his beloved hat. She went back inside, got a bottle of wine out of the cupboard, grabbed his hat off the table and a flashlight from a drawer, and headed up the beach to the lodge.
The path from the beach to the main lodge climbed a slight incline up through a grove of feathery casuarina pines, passing by the dim shapes of guest cottages on either side, their windows glowing with rectangles of yellow light, curtains drawn. Nina emerged into a small clearing where the main lodge stood. Its wraparound veranda was shadowy and vacant, and the lodge was dark, except for the porch light over the door and the faint glow of one reading lamp in a corner inside. Nina tiptoed up the steps and peeked in. There was no one there.
She continued up a steep path through the trees to Ted’s cottage on its secluded perch above the lodge. She emerged from the trees a few feet from his front step. Like the lodge, it was a wooden clapboard cabin stained a soft gray-brown that blended into its surroundings. Golden light spilled out of the windows onto the veranda. He must still be up. Nina started up the steps. Twangy country music wafted out of the open windows, along with the aroma of rich, spicy food. Patsy Cline. Torch music.
He’s not alone, thought Nina with sudden alarm. Of course not. She retreated swiftly down the steps, lighting the path through the trees with her flashlight.
Nina heard the screen door open behind her, and she looked back. Ted was on the porch, bare-chested and barefoot, wearing only his all-purpose khaki fishing shorts.
Oh, thought Nina. He does have company, and he’s half-dressed. A stab to the heart.
“Nina,” Ted said with surprise. His eyes dropped to the bottle of wine in her hand, then returned to her eyes. She wanted to disappear. Instead, she turned to face him.
“Hi, Ted. I thought I’d come by and say hi and return your hat. But it’s late. You’re busy. I’m so sorry. I’ll see you later.” She forced a weak smile, then turned and started quickly down the path again, still clutching his hat and holding her chin up, trying to maintain some dignity.
“Nina! Wait!” he called, running down the steps after her. “Where are you going? Come on in.”
She hesitated for a moment, then walked slowly back toward him.
“OK,” she said.
“I just got back a little while ago. We were fishing down south around Wreath Cay today, then I had to make a run to the airport. I was just getting around to making some supper,” he said as they walked back up the steps onto the porch. He held the screen door open for her. He smelled fresh from the shower.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I know you’re vegetarian, so you wouldn’t be interested in chili, but I can make you an omelet. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
Ted disappeared through a doorway, and Nina glanced around the cabin. There was no visible sign that a woman had recently been there. The cabin’s living area was one big room. From the front door where she stood, she could see into the kitchen in the far back corner, separated from the seating area by a kitchen island. Dishes were stacked neatly on open shelves, and a few pots and pans hung from hooks on the wall. In the front corner of the cabin, opposite where she stood, a blue twill sofa and chair sat beneath a bank of windows. In daylight, the room must have a view of the water and the coastline in three directions. Light from a reading lamp on a table by the sofa cast a warm honey glow on the varnished pine-board walls and floor.
Nina placed Ted’s hat on a coat hook by the door and took a few steps into the living room, still looking around. A guitar leaned against the wall, and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase stood between the windows. It was crammed with books, objects, and a couple of framed photographs. Nina leaned in to peer at them. A recent picture of Ted with three smiling blonde women, then another with the same women, an older couple, and assorted small children. They all looked alike. His parents, sisters, nieces, and nephews, thought Nina. Next to the bookcase was a fly-tying table with a little bundle of brightly colored feathers wrapped in silver thread pinched in a clamp under a large magnifying glass. The room was neat and clean.
A book lay open on the arm of the chair, spine up. Nina turned her head sideways to read the title. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway.
He really must think about fishing all the time, thought Nina. It was an early-edition hardback with an illustrated dust jacket. She picked it up to have a closer look. A card fell out from between the pages and fluttered to the floor. She bent down to pick it up, glancing at it as she tucked back in between the pages of the book. It was a birthday card.
Happy 40th Birthday, Ted. Watch out you don’t
end up like this guy. Love, Sandy xo
“My sister sent me that book a while ago. I’m just getting around to reading it,” said Ted from behind Nina. She turned to look at him, the book still in her hand. He was pulling a white T-shirt on over his tanned torso. She looked away.
“Oh, that’s nice,” she said.
“Yeah, I think I read it in school, but I can’t remember the particulars. It’s not looking good for Santiago at this point. May I pour you a glass of wine?”
He gestured to the bottle she’d brought. It was now standing on the floor at her feet where she’d set it down to pick up the card.
“That would be nice, thanks,” said Nina, bending down to pick up the bottle at the same time he reached for it. Their heads bumped.
“Ow, sorry,” said Nina.
“That’s all right,” he said, looking into her eyes at close range. His brown eyes were warm beneath their fringe of long blond lashes. He gave her a smile and headed for the kitchen with the bottle, digging around in a drawer for a corkscrew. If he was bothered by Les and the hot tub, he gave no indication of it. He came back and handed her a glass.
“Cheers,” he said.
“Cheers,” said Nina.
They both took a sip of wine and then stood for a moment facing each other, neither speaking. Outside, the cicadas hummed loudly in the dense bush behind the cabin.
“Come keep me company in the kitchen while I make your omelet,” Ted finally said. So, they weren’t going to jump right into discussing the supermodel or Les’s hot tub, thought Nina. Good.
She relaxed a little. She sat on a stool at the island sipping her wine and watching him expertly whip a couple of eggs, chop some spinach and onions, and sauté the lot with butter in a cast-iron frying pan. He turned it out onto a plate and set it down in front of her, along with a knife, fork and napkin. Then he dished up a bowl of chili for himself from the stove.
“Thank you. It looks great,” she said.
“My pleasure,” he answered, pulling a stool up to the counter and sitting across from her.
“So, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. What’s new?” he said, taking a bite.
