Secrets of Sandhill Island

by Peggy Chambers

  “Yes, she will be okay, and I’ll tell her you asked about her. It will make her feel better.”

  “By the way,” the detective began, “do you know where Mike Fitzgerald is at this time?”

  “At the bottom of the ocean? I don’t know for sure, but the last time I saw him he was heading for the dock and his tug’s gone. I guess he got on it and headed out in the storm.”

  “Okay, that’s all for now. If we need to talk to you again, we know where to find you,” the detective said.

  “Well, if I ain’t here, I’ll probably be down on the dock. I live there as much as I do here.”

  “Thanks for your help.” Jon handed him the cash that was in his pocket. He was sure he needed it, and informants were used to being paid. As they left the shack, walking back down the wooden stairs, Jon made a mental note to include the apartment in the renovations they had planned for the island. He at least needed a place to sleep that wasn’t a firetrap.

  “Well, I think we need to pick up Victoria Chung and find out for sure where Mike Fitzgerald is,” Detective Arnold said once they were back on the boat. “If you give us the address, Mr. Stanford, we’ll take it from here. No need to wait until morning.”

  “I could do that, but I think I want to be there when you pick her up. I want to see the look on her face.”

  The detective shrugged as the boat flew across the water of the lagoon that was smooth as glass, toward the lights of Corpus Christi.

  ****

  Jon smiled as he rang the doorbell in the middle of the night at Victoria’s apartment. He rang it three short times in succession so she would know who was at the door. The bedroom light came on, and a shadow could be seen as she grabbed her robe and walked to the front door. Then he leaned on the bell until she opened the door.

  “What the hell is wrong with you,” she began and then she saw the detectives. Jon stood in front of the door with a sneer on his face and his hands in his pockets.

  ‘Hey, Vicky!” He knew she hated being called that.

  “Have you been drinking?” Victoria pulled her robe together.

  “Not a drop—yet. These are my good friends Detectives Arnold and Samuels and they want to talk to you about Robert Chung.”

  She jumped slightly and then smiled. “Well, Jon, honey, let me at least get some clothes on if I’m having company.”

  “Sure, honey, I’ll go with you.” Jon pushed in the door past Victoria with the police in tow.

  “Ms. Chung, we need for you to come to the station with us for some questioning. Mr. Stanford can go with you to get dressed.”

  At the police station Detective Arnold told Victoria that Mike Fitzgerald had rolled on her and said she was the brains behind the whole operation. He said she had hired her cousin Robert to kidnap and eventually kill Meg. He also said Fitzgerald was in the next room giving details of their affair, and that she had put up the money so she could get her hooks into Jon and his fortune. It didn’t take long for Victoria to talk, saying that it wasn’t her idea but Fitzgerald’s. He was, after all, the one who had tried to blackmail Meg, and when that didn’t work he hired someone to kidnap her. She also said he was jealous of Jon so had decided to kill Meg to get back at him. The lies went on into the night until eventually Jon became tired of hearing them and went home. His mother had almost lost her life trying to protect his. He would spend the rest of his life trying to repay her.

  ****

  Meg dreamed a thousand dreams as she lay in the hospital bed—some of Evan, some of Jon as a baby, some of her father in his office at the dock, and many of Alex. When she awoke a few days later surrounded by the constant beeping of machines and bright lights in her face, she had no idea where she was.

  Jon lay sleeping in the recliner by her bedside with the tattered backpack in his lap. Her son that she loved so much was by her side. How long had it been since the accident she wondered, and where was Alex? Trying to sit, she felt for the button on the side of the bed, but her right arm wouldn’t move. It was tethered to the bed with an IV poking out. Wiggling her toes, she was certain everything was still there. She rolled onto her left side to feel for the button she knew should help her sit up. Pain seared through her body. It was the same pain she felt in the basement. But, determined to sit, she felt again for the button and found it this time. The foot of the bed began to rise. It was the wrong button. Feeling up along the bedside, she found another and pushed. This time her head started up.

  “Augh!” She yelled when the pain went through her again and Jon woke with a start.

  “Mom! You’re awake. We were beginning to wonder about you. Are you in pain?”

  “Bed. Up too far,” she managed to squeak out.

  Jon rounded the bed in a step and pushed the button to lower her head. “You’ve had some injuries. But, the doctor says you’ll be fine. You punctured a lung, but you will heal. You could have been crushed.”

  “Alex?” she asked, fearing the worst.

  “Right here.” Meg could see just his head as Greg pushed him in the wheelchair through the door. He was smiling, and his longish gray/brown hair was disheveled. There was a bulge under his hospital gown from a bandage, but he appeared healthy under the circumstances.

  “Alex.” She attempted to say his name again, reaching for him. But, it barely came out as a breath.

  “Alex saved your life.” Jon moved aside so the wheelchair could be moved closer to Meg’s bed. “We found him on top of the other guy who had a meat hook sticking out of his chest. It’s miraculous that you are both alive. I have Alex here to thank for saving my mother.”

  Alex moved closer and took Meg’s hand in his.

  “And I have my mother to thank for saving us both from Victoria. I read the report and saw the paperwork you went back to get. The police also talked to Poppy who knows everyone, and he had seen Victoria and Fitzgerald together. He also told them about Graham having Evan killed. He was sent to deliver the message about the plans because he couldn’t read the note from Graham. I guess Grandpa Graham knew he couldn’t read. He’s known all along about Dad’s murder, but no one asked him before. You risked your life for me,” Jon said with tears in his eyes. “And don’t you ever do it again.”

  “You’re worth it,” she squeaked then smiled at Alex. He leaned over to kiss her and grimaced at the pain. She pushed the button to lift her head again no matter how much it hurt, and met him halfway. The kiss, though painful for both, was the sweetest they had shared in the few months they had been together.

  “Victoria?” Meg asked, looking at her son.

  “She has been charged with two counts of solicitation of attempted murder. When the detectives told her that Fitzgerald rolled over on her, she spilled the beans. No one’s seen Fitzgerald, actually. His boat is missing and the authorities think he may have made a run for it in the hurricane. He is either in Mexico or dead. We don’t know for sure.”

  Meg smiled. Neither of them would bother her family again.

  “Okay, this is sweet, but I have to check on my patient.” A short blonde nurse with a stethoscope around her neck pushed through the crowd with a clipboard in her hands. She adjusted the IV for Meg’s drip and laid her bed back down. When she smiled, her brown eyes danced. “What a great family,” she said when the exam was over. “You’re healing nicely, Meg, and with this support group, you will do well.”

  Meg talked for a few minutes, but found she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her family and friends left her to sleep, then Jon sat down in a chair with a thump as Greg took Alex back to his room to rest.

  “You look like you could use some coffee,” said the blonde nurse. “We have some in the nurse’s station, even if it is terrible.”

  “I’d love some coffee. Is there somewhere to eat around here?”

  “The hospital cafeteria, but it’s as bad as the coffee. However, there is a little bistro across the street that has great sandwiches and coffee to die for.”

  “Do you get a break?” Jon a
sked.

  “In about thirty minutes,” she responded with a smile.

  “I’ll meet you here in thirty minutes and we can get something to eat if you would like?” Jon smiled.

  “I’ll be back.” She walked away with her clipboard.

  Jon rubbed the stubble on his chin as he watched the nurse walk away. He couldn’t remember if he had a shower this morning or if that was yesterday. He had been living at the hospital. But, one way or another, he didn’t have time to go home and clean up. There was, however, a shaving kit in a bag in Mom’s room that he could take advantage of, if he could do it quietly without waking her. He didn’t want to look like a derelict in front of this woman. After all, he was single again.

  Chapter 40

  Sitting in the sun on the balcony at Jon’s high-rise apartment, Meg relaxed. Alex was coming to get her. He would pick her up and take her back to Sandhill Island today. He had been staying with Tom in the loft above the gallery and visiting when he could. The painting was keeping him busy, but he called every day now that she had a new phone.

  The bandage on her side was smaller with each visit to the doctor and the wound was healing nicely. Her favorite boutique delivered clothes of every variety. They hung around her bedroom waiting for her to decide which ones to keep and which ones to send back. They were of every variety and color, but none that she could wear to weed her precious garden.

  The doorbell rang and Meg rose to answer it with only a small twinge in her side—something she was getting used to. When she opened the door, there stood the second love of her life. Alex had sunflowers in his hand and a smile on his face. He said nothing, but leaned in to kiss her squarely on the lips. He tasted like quiet nights on the beach and a long life lived in peace and tranquility. He tasted like love, and he tasted like her future. She smiled back.

  “Did you buy those from some crazy garden lady on the street?” she asked.

  “I haven’t seen any crazy garden ladies. But, I did get them off the street from a vendor, does that count? They reminded me of you sitting in the sunshine. You’re in your element with the sunshine bouncing off your hair.” He ran his hand through her hair and pulled her to him, kissing her again, more deeply this time.

  She placed her hand on his stomach and felt the bandage there; the cut on his torso that probably saved her life. He would have died for her. The man with the meat hook that followed them to the shop that day planned to kill him and kidnap her. Money did such strange things to people. She would have given him all she had if he had just promised to go away and never come back to bother her or her family again. But, he assumed he had to kill for it.

  Evidently, her father felt the same way. The rumors were probably true that he had Evan killed so his daughter, the heiress, wouldn’t marry a fisherman. At least, Poppy was saying that it was true. He had known for years, but no one ever asked him.

  Was Graham sorry when he found out Meg was pregnant with Evan’s baby? Jon was very much like his grandfather in many respects, but he had his father’s traits too. Traits like caring for his mother and those loyal to him.

  Meg overheard Jon sending Greg and his family on a cruise to thank him for helping to find Meg. Not that you could buy that kind of loyalty. Greg would have done it with no payment. But, he earned it and it was a lovely gesture on Jon’s part. It showed his soft side that many did not see.

  She reached for the flowers and carried them in to the kitchen with one hand, holding Alex’s hand in her other. A blue/gray contemporary styled vase that Victoria had probably picked out sat on the bar. Meg filled it with water and placed the home-grown flowers in it. She was sure Victoria would not have approved.

  “Are we going to Jon’s office?” she asked.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Well, let’s go. Then you promised me a trip to the island.”

  Sitting around the boardroom table, coffee was served from a silver service. Jon’s assistant, Joan, passed the paperwork to her boss then handed him a pen.

  “These deeds transfer title to the original owners of the land on Sandhill Island.” Jon signed the bottom as president of the corporation and then handed them to Meg to sign as secretary. Meg had no idea there would be so many at first. She and Jon had pored over her father’s books for nights on end to see who had been cheated on the island where she had grown up. Meg’s hand cramped after a while, and all she had to do was sign her name. After Joan notarized the stack, each document would be filed with the county and then given to the respective owners. Meg was insistent that the land be returned to the original owners and Jon agreed with her, even though he wanted to make sure no one decided to sue over the deals.

  The backpack Meg risked her life for held the paperwork showing the deeds that her father had retained after he drove his neighbors near bankruptcy. And now they would get the land back into the hands of the rightful owner.

  “This next document grants the right to the named party to dredge the harbor at Sandhill Island so that it is available to all who have need of its waters and sets up a perpetual corporation to keep said harbor safe in a manner that is available to anyone who has need of it,” Jon said in a lawyerly manner and signed the bottom of the document, handing it to his mother for her signature. Meg signed with a flourish and smiled. She and her son had vindicated her family. She felt she could see Evan on the other side of the room with that same smile on his face that she loved. He would have been proud of her today—her and their son. He had grown into a good mix of the two of them, and had the tenacity and head for business of his grandfather. He was honest and loving, but no one would ever run over him. Meg could not have been more proud in that moment of her son, or the corporation they had created with her father’s funds.

  “Let’s take these to the island and see if maybe Sam will fix us dinner,” she said to her two favorite men in the world.

  “I doubt it will be fit to eat,” Alex said. “He has been having to truck in vegetables. But, we can find out.”

  Chapter 41

  They took Alex’s rented car to the ferry and once more to the island. The waves blew a salty spray in Meg’s face as she stood beside the car. Breathing deeply, the sea air reminded Meg of all that she had been missing while she recuperated in Corpus Christi. Meg and Alex watched as the tugboat pilot maneuvered them closer to the newly repaired dock. A private company, with money to spare, had anonymously repaired the dock so the ferry was able to make its treks to the mainland and back again.

  The tiny town had begun their cleanup. The people of Sandhill Island were used to the many faces of the sea and sometimes cleaning up after her tantrums. The plywood that had been screwed into the window facings saved most of the glass. Even though some paint was needed, most emergency repairs had been made.

  The shop that Alex rented and the vegetable stand were gone and the cleanup was finished. The landscape was bare ground missing the buildings. The basement had been filled in and smoothed over, waiting for sea grass to grow in the sandy soil.

  The heavy-set man in the white chef tunic was watering his new herb garden behind the restaurant. His top button undone, he glanced up as Alex parked the car in the parking lot.

  “We’re not open until dinner,” Sam Taylor said and then a smile spread across his broad face. “Meg! And Alex, how are you? We’ve missed you both so much!” He trotted toward the car, sweating in the sun.

  He opened Meg’s door and hugged her tightly, not waiting for her to exit the car, then ran around to shake hands with Alex. The back door opened and Jon’s long legs stepped out. “And Jon, what a surprise.”

  “Good to see you, Sam,” Jon said, holding out his hand to the chef. “When is dinner?”

  “Anytime you want it. No fresh vegetables, but I can come up with something palatable.” He turned back to look at Meg and Alex. “I can’t get over how great you look. I guess you are healing nicely? We were all so worried.”

  “I’m fine, really. We both are. I wouldn’t be al
ive though if it hadn’t been for Alex.” Meg stood next to Alex holding his hand. “We don’t want to put you out, Sam, but we were hoping to have a town meeting here tonight. We’ll pay for dinner, but could you organize something? We would like to talk to our neighbors,” Meg said.

  Sam looked confused. “Sure. Everything okay?” Meg nodded. “Okay, I’ll pass the word. How is six o’clock?” He paused. “You mean everyone?”

  “Everyone who can come. We have an announcement.” She smiled at Sam who seemed to relax.

  “Let’s drive down to the beach and see what’s left of it. I haven’t been down there since the storm. And I want to see the harbor too. Sam, we’ll be back around six and anything is great for dinner. We really appreciate you taking care of this for us.”

  “Well, Meg, there isn’t a lot to see, but let’s go.” Alex opened the door for her to sit. The three back in the car, they waved goodbye to Sam and drove to the beach, and what was left of the house.

  Meg’s heart caught in her throat as she walked down the sandy hill and surveyed the damage. Heaps of wood lay strewn up and down the beach as she stepped gingerly between them, careful not to step on a nail. Where the house had been, lay part of the floor and she dared not walk across it even though she wanted to. She wanted to be in her bedroom one more time, or the front porch that she loved in the evening with the rocking chairs that were no more. But, she knew it wasn’t safe.

  Instead, she walked around the back to her once-lovely garden and surveyed the damage. Most of the plants were gone and some were just broken over and dead from neglect. She looked up the hill at the sand dune she climbed the night of the hurricane and shivered at the memories of tomato cages flying past her face.

  “It’s all gone,” she sighed.

  “But, we’re alive to see it,” Alex said, hugging her lightly. “And we can rebuild if you like. The gallery wants me in New York next week and sales of the paintings are going through the roof. I don’t think I’ll need the help of the Stanford Corporation anymore. I am an artist—and no longer a starving one.”