****
When Meg woke, daylight was beginning to break through the clouds and a light breeze blew salty ocean smells through her bedroom window. The unfamiliar snoring startled her at first and then she remembered. She turned to see the brownish-gray hair poking out from under her antique quilt and lightly touched Alex’s freckled shoulder. His scent engulfed her as he slept soundly without stirring. Something about last night seemed so natural and normal it surprised her. She expected to feel fear or at least embarrassment. After all, it had been years since she had slept with a man, but all she felt was comfortable. Comfort with a man she barely knew seemed out of place, but she smiled. Maybe it was the fact that they shared their lives last night—or maybe it was because he made her feel safe with all the problems that had recently cropped up in her life, but he felt as comfortable as warm sweats on a cold day.
Carefully, she slid out of bed, reaching for the robe that lay across the foot, and wrapped it around her. Closing the bedroom door, she padded softly into the kitchen. She poured water into the coffee pot, measured the grounds into the basket and turned it on. There on the floor in front of the kitchen door was an envelope with her name on it. She reached for the envelope, wondering if someone had dropped it the night before. It was seldom that she had company in her kitchen, but last night there were three. Three new friends, she thought with a smile as she opened the envelope. Inside was a single piece of paper with hand-written numbers on it. Confused at first, the fog of sleep began to lift and she realized it was the blackmail note—as promised. Mike Fitzgerald had been at her door again as she slept. The door that didn’t lock. A shudder ran through her at first, and then anger. She stood up straight. This man was trying to take advantage of her. Who did he think he was? One thing was for certain, before she slept again, all the doors and windows in her beach house would lock.
“What’s for breakfast?” asked the sleepy voice behind her. Alex stood barefoot wearing only his jeans and a smile as he ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked at her quizzically. “Is everything okay?”
The smell of coffee filled the room and the sound of waves rolling relentlessly on the shore floated through the open windows. “There was an envelope under the door this morning.” She handed him the paper.
“What is it?”
“It looks like routing and account numbers and that is an amount.” She pointed to the dollar sign on the paper. “Mike Fitzgerald was at my door again last night. Can you install a lock? I mean if you can’t I am sure Mr. Sanders from the hardware store can. Maybe I should pay him to check all the locks.”
“I’ll get with him and we’ll get it done. Are you okay? You look a little rattled. I think we need to involve the police. This is getting serious. The guy was at your house twice in one night!”
“Or early this morning. Either way, you may be right. Maybe it is time to call the police.”
Alex pulled the cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911, then walked into the living room as she poured two cups of coffee. She sat his on the coffee table and said quietly. “I’m taking a shower.” She walked toward the bathroom with her coffee. It was so unlike her to let someone else handle her problems. But, somehow, it just seemed right.
“The police are on their way.” Alex was in the bedroom when she walked in to get dressed. “They’re sending a detective out, but it will take a while to get here on the ferry. They aren’t running with lights and sirens.”
“They don’t need to. But, thanks for helping me get this started. I might have not done anything if I hadn’t had some help.” And she pulled the sundress over her head as he watched.
Alex smiled and stepped toward her, lightly kissing her on the lips. “Thank you for last night. It has been a long time, and I don’t know about you, but it just felt right.”
Meg smiled. “I should be thanking you. It did feel right. It has been a long time since I let anyone into my life. It probably was a mistake for me to wait so long, but I just closed up after Evan died, and concentrated on Jon. It’s nice to have someone around if just to make a phone call for me.” She smiled and kissed him back. Over his shoulder she saw a shadow through the window and jumped.
“Jon,” she said and hurried to the door. This was going to be awkward, but maybe it was time to put all the cards on the table about Alex—and the blackmailing. It was time he knew what had been going on in her life.
“Hi sweetie, come in.” She opened the door to her only son.
“Hi, Mom. Coffee smells good.” He handed her a box of cinnamon rolls.
“Let me get you some.” She poured him a cup of coffee as Alex walked out of the bedroom with his shirt on this time.
Jon stopped with the cup halfway to his lips.
“Good morning, Jon.” Alex walked into the kitchen. He did his best to act natural about the strained situation.
“Alex.” Jon set down the coffee and eyed first his mother then Alex again. “You’re here early.”
“I was here all night. Your mother has had a problem.”
“Mom? Is everything okay?”
“Let’s sit.” She pulled out the chair at the kitchen table.
Jon turned the chair around and straddled it, eyeing them both. “What’s wrong?”
Meg looked at Alex, who nodded at her to tell her story. “I’ve been having some trouble with a man on the dock.” She handed him the envelope. Jon opened it and took out the piece of paper.
“Account numbers?”
“Yes, he is trying to blackmail me. We’ve called the police.”
“I assume we’ve all handled this paper?” Jon said, putting it back in its envelope.
“Yes.”
“Well, we’ve probably ruined any evidence that was on it. Now tell me what this is about. What man at the dock?”
“There has been a man at the dock lately that I’ve seen many times, but never spoken to until recently. I talked to Paul Smith, the shrimper, and he told me his name was Mike Fitzgerald. He said he was Rowdy Fitzgerald’s son.”
“Who is Rowdy Fitzgerald?”
“He was your father’s fishing partner. They owned a boat and fishing business together. I remember meeting Rowdy once, but didn’t know if he had any children. However, Fitzgerald has been bothering me when I go to the dock to trade for shrimp—just talking to me as I go past and making me nervous. He acted in a threatening manner even though he didn’t say much. Then he said he knew who I was and knew who killed Evan.”
“I thought Dad died in a storm.”
“Well, me too, but he says that Evan was murdered.” She couldn’t finish the sentence with ‘your grandfather had him murdered.’
“Okay. I don’t understand why anyone would think that my dad was murdered, and why after thirty years would they bring it up now?”
“That’s what I wondered, but he has decided to blackmail me. Jon, he says that your grandfather had Evan killed.”
“What! That’s ridiculous.”
“He said that he knows who did it and he wanted money to keep quiet or he would smear the family name.”
Jon stood and began to pace the tiny kitchen. “Well, let him smear! I wonder if he has ever heard of a defamation of character lawsuit? This is not happening. We’re going to find this Mike guy and shut his mouth once and for all. He is not going to threaten you with poison pen notes. How did he get this to you, anyway?”
“It was slid under the door this morning.”
“He was in her house,” Alex began, “after dark last night. He broke in and threatened her face to face.”
Jon paused, then looked at his mother and then Alex and glared. “So you decided to be the knight in shining armor and spend the night with my mother to keep her safe?”
“Jon!”
“Mom, have you thought about the fact that all this trouble started just as Alex showed up? Maybe he has something to do with it.”
“I can’t believe you said that!”
“Well, the timing is right. I
mean about the time that Alex shows up, so does Fitzgerald.”
“You’re wrong. Alex has been trying to help. He called the police for me. The detectives are coming out. But, you know it takes a while with the ferry and such.”
“Okay, pack a bag. As soon as the police leave, you’re coming home with me. This is just one more reason why you can’t live here alone. It takes the damned police an hour to get here! At least in Corpus Christi I’ll know you’re okay. And then the police can find Mike Fitzgerald and put him where he belongs.”
“I’m not living in a high-rise apartment in Corpus Christi. I know you’re trying to help, but I’m an adult and can take care of myself.”
“No, you can’t. Just look at how you have made a mess of your life! Living off a vegetable patch, trying to be a recluse because some old boyfriend died thirty years ago? Those days are over. Evan isn’t coming back. You can quit sitting on the seashore waiting. He’s dead!”
Meg looked at the man in front of her. Her son that she had raised lovingly had the same look on his face as her father used to when he told her how she should live her life. She wanted to lash out. She wanted to hurt him like he hurt her.
“Fitzgerald said the man that killed Evan was Robert Chung, Victoria’s uncle.” The words hung in the air like a shroud, covering everything it touched.
“Okay, that’s the last straw,” Jon said quietly as someone rapped on the door.
Meg looked up and saw two men in suits at her front door. She walked to the door and opened it.
“Meg Stanford?” the first one said.
“Yes,” Meg said quietly.
“I’m Detective Arnold and this is Detective Samuels of the Corpus Christi police.” They both showed her their badges. “May we come in?”
“Of course.” Meg ushered the men into her already crowded kitchen. “This is my son, Jon Stanford, and my friend Alex Wallace. He is the one that called you. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No thank you ma’am, we’re fine. Just tell us what has occurred so far.” Detective Arnold was a young man about Jon’s age. Everyone seemed young to Meg these days. The other detective looked around her house as she and Arnold talked. She wondered if he was listening at all. However, when she spoke about Mike breaking into her house his ears perked up like he was actually listening for the first time. Then he took the envelope with the scrap of paper and put them into a plastic bag. After taking everyone’s name and phone number, they excused themselves and promised to be in touch.
“I don’t know how much good that did,” Jon said. “I hope they follow through. Are you going to pack that bag and go home with me?”
“No. I’m staying here. Alex and Mr. Sanders at the hardware store are going to install a lock on the back door and check the rest of them in the house.”
“Mom, a lock isn’t going to do you much good if someone really wants in. This place is falling apart. A gust of wind could knock it over.”
Meg stood her ground, “No, I’m staying.”
Jon shook his head slowly. “You know where I am if you need me, not that I could get here very fast.” He turned on his heel to leave then turned back around. “I’d better not find out you’re involved in this,” he said, pointing to Alex, and stomped out the door.
“I’m sorry,” Meg said to Alex after Jon left. She couldn’t believe her son could act the way he did. It was like he was three years old and jealous of his mother’s boyfriend. Did she just think boyfriend? Was that what Alex was becoming? After all, they did sleep together last night. But, whatever the relationship with Alex was, she had never been so angry at Jon. She wasn’t an invalid that needed a nursing home. She had taken care of herself and him all their lives and now this was how he treated her.
“No. No need to apologize. If I were in his shoes, I might feel the same. Let’s go get that lock and see what we can do about this door.”
“No, I’ll stay here and finish up some things. If you wouldn’t mind taking care of that for me, I would appreciate it. After all the activity around here recently, I’m sure that Fitzgerald will stay away for a while.”
Alex paused and looked at Meg quizzically. “If you’re sure. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
After Alex and Jon left, Meg looked around her cottage. Her home suddenly felt like a prison with the impending locks on the door and a son who tried to look after her only to make her feel like a child. Stepping into the bedroom, she opened the door to the closet. The new outfits were still in the bag from her trip to Corpus Christi. She had not hung them up. With the humidity, she planned to take them to the cleaners before wearing them again.
She walked to the front of the house and looked out into the ocean. Kicking off her shoes on the front porch, she padded barefoot to the shore. The breeze blew through her hair as she watched the shorebirds in their endless race with the waves—back and forth they ran. She felt like those birds, always running this way and that to avoid getting her feet wet in the ocean of life.
She might never go to the mainland again, she thought as she remembered the looks at the salon and now her son’s attitude. This was why she left. Taking the beautiful new outfits from her bag, she flung them into the tide as it rushed out. The pink, green and coral colors muted as they mixed with the sea-green water. Never again. She watched as they washed out to sea. They could have a wedding without her.
Chapter 20
Still standing ankle deep in water and looking out at the sea, Meg thought back to the time she was a young woman ruled over by her arrogant father, and to the reasons she never wanted to go back to her old life. She was wearing the silk peach dress with dyed-to-match satin pumps and was sure her mother would have loved it. It would not have been her choice. The house she and her parents had moved to in Corpus Christi was a large two-story overlooking the harbor. It had been built when air conditioning was not even a thought in the builder’s mind. The overly large windows faced the water and caught the breeze as it blew in off the ocean.
Jon was downstairs watching a movie and playing with toy cars. The nanny was in for the evening. Meg was attending another boring dinner with her overbearing father again. He wanted to show her off to his customers and he had insisted she wear the dress he picked out for her. He still thought she might take over for him someday. She hated these dinners, but Graham Stanford didn’t take no for an answer—even from his daughter.
Since her mother’s death, Meg felt she replaced her in some ways. Graham insisted she accompany him and she always did as she was told, even though secretly she hated the dinners and possibly her father.
“Meg, you ready?” Graham called from the hallway.
“Coming.” She picked up the evening bag that lay on the bed and walked from the room.
Her father stood in the hallway in a tailor-made tuxedo that fit his apple shape. She told him it made him look slimmer because that is what he wanted to hear. In reality that was an impossible task for any tailor. His shape, age, diet, and alcohol consumption made him ripe for a heart attack. She smelled him as she walked past and knew he had already been into the scotch.
“Mitch and the car are already out front.” She walked into the living room to kiss her son goodbye. He was on the rug with a fire truck and a cartoon movie on the TV.
“Not too many snacks,” Meg said to the nanny, leaning over to kiss Jon. “Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you too,” he said automatically, never looking up.
The car was at the front door and the driver stood with the door open for Meg and her father’s entrance. He leered at Meg as she went past. She hated the way he looked at her and wondered why her father hired him in the first place. She guessed he was someone who owed her father money and that was his way of keeping an eye on him. His employees were often people he had beat in the business world and were forever dependent upon Graham for a living now.
The country club had a large valet entrance with columns on either side of massive carved doors that must ha
ve weighed a ton each. She hated the country club and all it stood for, but loved the look of an Italian villa the building had copied. Maybe she would travel to Tuscany someday to see a real one. Once inside, the music and wine were flowing as people chattered about their latest trip to Paris or business deal.
As soon as Meg and Graham arrived, she was left alone to mingle until dinner as her father went off to talk business with someone else. Miranda, her only friend at these gala events, was nowhere in sight. Usually, they sat in a corner and talked until dinner when they reunited with their families. Miranda was a little younger than Meg, but disliked the country club dinners as much as she did. Her husband insisted she attend and then left her to fend for herself. That was how she and Meg first met, at the bar sitting alone.
Meg walked to the bar and ordered a glass of wine, looking for her friend and when she didn’t find her, she stood with her back to the bar, surveying the crowd. Amy, in a jade green dress that looked two sizes too small, and her entourage were zeroing in on her as they walked her way.
Amy was the wife of one of her father’s competitors and felt it was her duty to make sure everyone followed the rules. Her rules. She was like the kid on the playground that managed to draw up sides and pick the players in the game. A game that she invented and only she knew the rules. She always made a point of making sure Meg knew she was the odd man out. She didn’t have a husband or even a mother. She was adrift in the society that had taken over the shipping business. Meg was the little kid that was never chosen for the ballgame and Amy was the bully that called the shots. And so it was this night as many others.
“Meg!” Amy glided up and made fake kissing noises on either side of Meg’s face. “So good to see you. Are you alone? Where’s Graham?”
“He’s here somewhere.” Meg took a sip of her wine. She would not let this woman make a mockery of her again.
“How is that little boy of yours?” Amy asked with a wicked smile. “What is his name again?”
“Jon.” Meg’s face began to burn more from anger than embarrassment. Amy knew Jon’s name as well as she knew his mother’s. And experience told Meg where this conversation was going.
Secrets of Sandhill Island Page 9