by Diane Capri
There was also a cloying dampness to the air, cool and sticky, like spider webs. I took another corner and stopped abruptly. The cold creeping of detached fingers peppered up my spine. I had the distinct feeling of being watched. Actually, it was more than that. It was deeper and darker than merely being observed. It was the sensation of being hunted.
I turned left, then zigzagged through a series of hedges. My pace quickened. Sweat dotted my forehead and clung to the little hairs on the back of my neck. I made another turn and ran into a dead end. I closed my eyes, trying to rein in my panic. I was okay. Nothing was going to hurt me out here. I could scream and someone would definitely hear me. Or maybe not, considering the harpist was still playing a haunting melody.
I backed out of the dead end and saw something flash ahead of me. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Could’ve been a bird, for all I knew. Could’ve been my overactive imagination. Or it could’ve been a man intending to hurt me.
“Oh God,” I whispered, gulping in air. A sweet scent of smoke filled my nostrils and mouth.
I had to get out of here. This was one of the worst decisions I’d ever made. No one knew I was here. If something happened to me, no one would know for hours, maybe not even until morning. Who would feed my cats?
Biting on my lip, I tried to remember the way I came. It was left, left, then right. Or was it left, right, then right? I took in a deep breath and pushed down the panic rising in my throat. It would strangle me if I let it. I counted to three slowly, then stepped forward, determined to get through this without having a heart attack.
From my other ventures through the maze, I remembered that there was a lamp at every proper turn. I looked for one, turned right, and then looked for the next. After finding three lamps and making three good turns, I was confident I was going to make it through. Hope swelled in my chest making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it wasn’t so much hope as bravado.
I found one more lamp, made a left turn, and ran right into a dark dead end.
And I wasn’t alone.
I yelped. As did two other voices.
Blinking the situation into focus, two faces formed in front of me. One belonged to the youngest member of the Chamber Crew at nineteen, Megan. Who also just happened to be Sheriff Jackson’s daughter—something I’d found out recently. The other face belonged to one of the waitstaff. He’d served me at the restaurant once. I was pretty sure his name was Patrick, and that he wasn’t nineteen. More like twenty-nine.
“Oh my God,” Megan panted, “you scared the crap out of us.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Trying to get out of this blasted maze,” I said, then looked at him and back at her. “And what are you doing?”
Licking her lips, she glanced at Patrick. “Please don’t tell Ginny or Lois. They’ll feel obligated to tell my dad.”
No, that was the last crap storm I wanted to walk into. “Don’t worry. I won’t. But honestly, Megan, I would rethink your choices.”
Patrick gave me a look. “That’s kind of harsh, lady.”
“I know, but seriously, you’re like what…ten years older than her?”
“So?” he said.
“So, she’s still a teenager with all the world’s possibilities ahead of her. And you’re still a waiter at a restaurant making minimum wage. You probably still live with your mama.”
“And you’re just a glorified butler. What the hell do you know?”
He was right. What the hell did I know? I was a failed lawyer running from my problems, hiding out on some island in the middle of nowhere, hoping everything would magically get better. I had two hundred dollars in my bank account, two suitcases of clothes, and a couple of cute cats. I didn’t see my parents often. I didn’t have any siblings or very many friends, and I’d never really experienced a full-on heart-shattering love. Not really the best example of success.
I sighed. “Can you tell me how to get out of here? I’m tired of running in circles.”
“Go back, turn right, go straight, then go left and follow it along. You’ll find the exit,” Megan said.
“Thanks.”
“You promise you won’t tell my dad, right?”
“I promise. I don’t think your dad would listen to me even if I did.”
She nodded, which confirmed the sheriff’s feelings about me, I guess.
Before I departed the area, however, I asked, “Hey, did you guys happen to see someone else go past here? A man. About yea high.” I raised my hand to about four inches above my head.
“I think so,” Megan said. “I don’t know if it was a man, but it was someone about that height. I don’t know why it’s busy in here all of a sudden. No one usually comes in here at night. Now everyone’s in here.”
Thinking possibly I hadn’t wasted my time, I turned and left the couple to go back to their making out, despite my reservations about doing so. I followed Megan’s directions and could see the break in the hedge. I’d just about made it out, unscathed but empty-handed. I still didn’t know who that man was or where he had gone, but maybe I could pick up his trail once I was out of here.
I was about to step out of the maze when something rustled behind me. I turned to see a dark form standing in the corner. At first I thought it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, from being tired and jumpy. Paranoia was the greatest trickster. But the black form moved, inching closer to where I stood.
Without hesitation, I dashed out from the maze. Unfortunately, I was on the other side, away from the hotel, away from the party and the people. Head down, I clenched my hands tight and made that split decision to run as fast as I could, not caring if I looked like a fool dashing across the manicured lawn with nothing chasing me. I would err on the side of caution. I took the first step forward when a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I screamed.
Chapter 20
On instinct, I swiveled around, hand up to punch, knee to strike. I was rewarded with a yelp and a groan. But my triumph was short lived when I saw who was doubled over, his hand protecting his private parts a bit too late.
“Oh my God, Daniel, I’m so sorry.” I went to touch him on the shoulder but thought better of it. He probably wasn’t in a touching mood right now, considering what I’d just done to his groin.
The guy with him had his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the laughter that was clearly bubbling up.
Daniel put his hand out toward me. I wasn’t sure if it was to say, I’m okay, or to say, Back off.
He finally said, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have surprised you like that.”
“I was on a bit of a fight-or-flight instinct high.”
He straightened and nodded. “I should’ve known better. It’s just that you looked like you were in distress or something.”
“Yeah, I thought I’d seen something in there.” I gestured toward the maze.
“An overactive imagination,” the man standing with Daniel said with a bit of a laugh. “I’m the same way. Plus that maze is kind of spooky at the best of times.”
I gave the man a wary look, and Daniel quickly introduced us. “Andi, this is Steve Bower. The owner of Bower Development here on the island. We’re hoping to do some work together.”
He offered his hand, and I took it. “It’s nice to meet you, Andi.”
“You, too.” I frowned, trying to place him. He looked familiar—and not just from roaming about the hotel. Then it hit me. He was the man in the alleyway with the pregnant young woman. “Oh, right. How’s your girlfriend?”
Now it was his turn to frown. “I’m sorry?”
“Earlier I saw you with that pregnant girl…in the village.”
“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t left the hotel all day. You must have me mistaken for someone else.”
Daniel chuckled. “Yeah, I was going to say…Pamela’s pregnant?”
Steve laughed with him. “Would have been a huge surprise to me.
Two ungrateful teenager kids in my house are enough for us.”
I smiled to be polite, but I found Steve to be disingenuous. Almost smarmy. Maybe I’d been wrong about him, and he wasn’t the man I’d seen in the alleyway. The couple was a distance away from me and in a badly lit back alley, and I had been tired. So it was possible I was wrong. And maybe Steve’s kids were little jerks, and I was just being sensitive after having the crap scared out of me.
“What were you doing in the maze?” Daniel asked. “Seems like an odd thing to be doing so late at night. Alone.”
“I was following someone. Maybe you saw him come out?”
Daniel frowned and glanced at Steve, who said, “I saw Nathan Hill maybe twenty minutes ago. He looked like he was in a hurry.”
“Brown hair, average build, about five foot ten?”
He nodded. “Yeah, sounds like him.”
“Do you know where he was going? Did he say?” I asked.
Daniel frowned. “Is everything okay? Did he do or say something to you?”
I shook my head, trying to appease his worries. “No, I just…he left something in the conference room, and I’m trying to get it back to him.”
“Uh-huh. That’s some kind of customer service you got going.”
“Yup, all in the name of the concierge business.”
He didn’t look like he believed me. The stereotype was that lawyers were good liars, but really that’s not the truth at all. Lawyers who keep their licenses to practice were not allowed to lie. They’d get in big trouble for lying. And I was a horrible liar. Which was obvious by the way Daniel regarded me now.
“Not sure where he was going,” Steve offered, “But I know he likes to drink at the Victoria Pub in the village, playin’ the big man. Maybe a bit too much.” He chuckled. “Maybe he was heading there.”
“Thanks.” I nodded to them and speed-walked back up to the road leading down to the village. My feet were going to be some kind of sore when I finally was able to take off my shoes and actually get some rest.
Chapter 21
It was just past ten o’clock, and the pub was in full swing, packed with people. A lively band was in the cramped corner playing something bluesy while some spirited couples danced nearby. As I pushed through the chattering and laughing crowd, I didn’t know how I was going to find average Nathan in the sea of nothing but average men. Just about everyone had average brown hair, if they had hair at all.
When I reached the bar, I turned around and surveyed the crush of revelers around me. Everyone was talking loudly, trying to hear each other over the riff of guitar and drawl of lyrics coming from the makeshift stage. I heard bits and pieces of conversations that I found amusing.
The two young women in front of me were chatting about the prospects in the pub. According to them, there wasn’t a man alive on the island who had any worth whatsoever. I hadn’t been here long enough to decide if that was true or not. Daniel definitely had some value and appeal, except technically he lived on the mainland.
From others I heard brief snippets about the quality of the fishing season and the economic benefits of the upcoming Flower Festival, which was held every year at the hotel. I also heard discussions about the local groomer, Daisy, and musings about her sexuality, the fact that Monica Neumann, the local doctor, was just too good for anyone and that Pamela needed to do something about her philandering husband.
Then I heard the name Nathan, and my head jerked to the right to see, not surprisingly, JC and Reggie seated at the bar, drinks in hands, gossiping. That seemed to be all these two men ever did.
Which was fine by me.
“Yup, that Nathan Hill was never any good for anybody,” Reggie was saying.
“Still, didn’t see that coming. Who woulda thought he’d go that far?” JC popped a handful of peanuts into his mouth.
Reggie shook his head. “Let’s hope Karl, the dumb fool, has a good hiding place. If Nathan finds him, he’s going to get a bashing just like the last guy.”
I didn’t like the sound of that conversation. I needed to find Karl. Maybe he was in danger. I left the pub and headed down Main Street toward the town square. When Ginny had given me the lowdown about the island, she also gave me the 4-1-1 on island lothario Karl. He lived in an apartment above the historical society office, which happened to be on one corner of the main center of town about a block down from the pub.
The society was housed in an old whitewashed stone building built back in 1875. The little plaque situated on the wall beside the main door told me everything I ever wanted to know about the building.
The door was probably locked, as it was way past office hours, but I tried it anyway. Yup, locked. I went around to the back of the building to find wooden steps leading to the apartment upstairs. I climbed them and knocked on the blue painted door. The lights were on inside—I could plainly see that through the side window—but no one answered.
Cupping my hands around my face, I peered through the glass. I didn’t see anyone inside, but the place was a mess. Kitchen chairs were knocked over, sofa cushions on the floor, papers and magazines everywhere. Either Karl was the worst housekeeper ever or someone had trashed his apartment.
I thought about calling the sheriff when I heard loud voices coming from the parking lot below. I quickly ran down the stairs to find Karl and Nathan dancing around each other, fists up in either defense or offense. I couldn’t tell who was on which side until Nathan lunged forward and threw a punch at Karl’s head. Karl managed to dodge the full impact of the blow, but Nathan’s knuckles did graze his ear.
“Ow!” Karl grabbed the side of his head. “That hurt, you bastard!”
“It’s less than you deserve!” Nathan swung again, but this time Karl was ready for it, and he danced out of the way. Nathan staggered forward and nearly fell onto his side.
So far, neither of them had noticed me, until I yelled, “I’m calling the sheriff!”
“Good!” Karl shouted back. “The bastard wrecked my place.”
“You screwed my wife!” Then Nathan charged at Karl. He grabbed him around the waist and took them both down to the ground. By the time I punched in the sheriff’s number, they were rolling around on the cement, hitting each other in the face, head, and shoulders. None of the blows looked like they’d landed. And the two of them pretty much looked like young boys having a slapping fight over who owned the best toys.
When the sheriff showed up ten minutes later with Deputy Shawn, Nathan and Karl were both on the ground on their backs, panting hard. Blood oozed from a cut above Karl’s right eyebrow, and Nathan was sporting a fat lip.
“What’s going on?”
“That guy,” I pointed to Nathan, “was hitting that guy,” I pointed to Karl. “Pretty sure that guy slept with that guy’s wife. Or so he was screaming.”
Sheriff Jackson shook his head and went over to talk to the two men. He stood over Nathan. “Is that true?”
“He slept with Rachel,” he whined, and then he rolled over onto his side, pulled his knees up, and started to sob.
Sheriff Jackson looked over at me. “Little help here.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“What do you do when someone’s bawling like a baby?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have kids.”
He shrugged. “Rub his back or something. That seemed to work with my daughter sometimes.”
“Why don’t you do it, then?” I said.
“Because I need to write up the report and interview the witnesses.” To punctuate his remark, he took out a notebook from his back pocket.
I crouched beside Nathan. “You okay there, buddy?”
He wailed even harder. Snot ran down from his nose, and I had to look away. I reached over and gently patted his shoulder. I couldn’t believe I had thought this guy was some cold-blooded killer. It was obvious to me now that he’d been agitated in the conference room because he’d probably just found out about Karl and his wife, and he’d been sta
lking through the gardens and maze looking for him. At least that was my assumption.
“So, when your wife slept with Karl…was that at the hotel?” I asked him quietly. I didn’t want the sheriff to overhear me questioning the suspect.
Nathan opened his eyes and glared at me. “Yes, why are you asking me that?” He sniffled.
“What room was it in?”
He just glared and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“Was it in room 209?”
“207.”
She pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to him. “Did you write that?”
He gave me a funny look. “No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“Stan Zhang.”
“Who’s that?”
“A private investigator.” He sniffled some more.
“You don’t happen to have his business card on you, do you?”
“How are you helping?”
“I’m probably not, sorry.” I patted his shoulder a few more times and then stood. “Dump your wife. You’ll be fine. Everything will get better.”
Nathan stopped crying and got to his feet. The sheriff came over. “Karl’s not going to press charges.”
“See?” I said to Nathan. “It’s getting better already.”
“But you are going to pay for the damages to his apartment. Understand?” the sheriff said firmly.
Nathan nodded.
“Good. You can go. Get yourself cleaned up, have a few drinks. You’ll feel better.”
“That’s what I told him.”
Sheriff Jackson glared at me as Nathan stumbled out of the parking lot.
“What?” I shrugged at him.
“Why were you here?”
I considered lying to him but thought better of it. He wouldn’t have believed me anyway. “I found a piece of paper with Thomas Banks’s room number on it, and I thought Nathan wrote it, and he was acting all agitated and nervous at the conference meeting, so I tracked him down, and ended up here, and saw these two fighting, and then realized that 7s can look like 9s.”
