The Bogus Biker (13 page)

Penelope laughed. “The Crescent? I’ve been there a time or two. Never saw a ghost though.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Shana tossed a brochure across the space between the two bed
s. “There’s a night ghost tour.

“I’m game.”

“How about a swim now that you have a suit?” Shana wrinkled her nose. “Even if it
is
  totally abominable.”

Penelope felt a sudden fondness for the younger woman. Was this what having a daughter was like—the camaraderie, sharing secrets, being friends as well as relatives? She’d had a decent relationship with her son to a point, but the growing gulf between them wasn’t just because they were of opposite gender.

“Why not? I could use some water therapy.”

They changed and went downstairs to the pool. A family of four on the way out of the pool area left it deserted. “Hey, they have Happy Hour every afternoon at
five,” Shana said, pointing to a hand-written sign on an easel. “We’ll have to come tomorrow.”

Penelope tossed her towel on a near-by table and stood on the edge of the pool, testing the water with her toe. “It’s pretty warm.”

“Last one in as a rotten…” Shana’s words were lost as she dived in headfirst.

Penelope eased herself over the side from a sitting position. “Nice.” She lay on her back and paddled to the other side.

For a while they floated in a silence broken only by the sound of the pumps and their own movements in the water. Penelope thought of Jake.
Sam says he’s fine, but he’d say that no matter what, just to get me to cooperate with him. He said Bradley wouldn’t worry, which must mean that he and Bradley are working together. Or are they? Something about him bothers me. Shana says he came to Pembroke Point several times. Why? For the same reason Roger Sitton did, whatever that was? And he knew she was in danger and went looking for her. How does he know these things?

She couldn’t shake the doubts about Sam…aka Tiny…aka Eldred Mooney
Frish.
Things aren’t always what they appear. Okay, I’ll concede that, but what are they? And how come I’m involved with whatever’s going on at the Point? Because of the men who spent the night at the B&B? Because I’m Travis’s ex-wife?

She glanced at Shana paddling aimlessly across the pool.
She should have married that boy back in Ohio. An affair with a man old enough to be her father will be something of a scarlet letter for a girl raised with conservative values in a small town. If anyone finds out, of course. I was raised the same way, and I did most things right, except for sleeping with Travis Pembroke before we were married. It only happened once, and I can’t blame him, not altogether. He wouldn’t have forced himself on me. Does the fact I married him make me any different…any better…than Shana?

Just before ten, Penelope got out and toweled herself off. “I want to catch the late news,” she called to Shana. “You can stay longer if you want to.”

“Not a chance.” Shana swam to the edge of the pool, effortlessly transitioning from the water.  “With my luck, I’d end up in some gigolo’s room.”

“I don’t think so. Anyway, that’s not luck,
it’s choice.”

“And I don’t make very good ones.”

The late news proved as unenlightening as that at six o’clock. Penelope transferred George from beneath her underwear to the bed under the extra pillow before she turned out the light.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

(Tuesday)

Penelope and Shana took advantage of free offerings in the breakfast room before going outside to wait for the trolley. Then Penelope realized she hadn’t returned George to the drawer. “I’ll give some poor girl in housekeeping a heart attack if she finds that,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She was sure the errand didn’t consume five minutes, but when she got back, she found Shana sitting on the curb, shaking. “It was him,” she said. “Sam or whoever he is.”

“Here?”

“He drove by in a car right after you left to go upstairs.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“It was him all right. He grinned at me and waved.”

“Do I want to know what you did?”

Shana blushed. “No. It wasn’t very nice.”

“I’m sure. Well, look, it stands to reason he’d check to make sure we followed his directions, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.”

“Maybe he’ll call tonight and tell us we can go home.”

Shana gave Penelope a look of pure disgust. “Sure he will.”

“Oh, get up, and don’t let this spoil our day. I’m going to spend some money and enjoy the fact it’s not coming out of my bank account. I’ll take you to a place where they sell handmade jewelry you can’t resist.”

Shana brightened noticeably. “I love jewelry.” She got to her feet just as the green trolley bus coasted to a stop in front of the hotel. “Let’s do it.”

****

Penelope caught herself looking for Sam as she and Shana walked the steep streets of the town, stopping to browse the many shops along the way. They were having ice cream at an outdoor café when she did see a familiar face—but it wasn’t Sam’s. She nudged Shana’s foot under the table. “Look at that man,” she stage-whispered. “The one across the street in the yellow golf shirt.” It was the other man who’d stayed at the B&B, the one who’d gotten away from the police on the Oklahoma border.

She watched Shana’s eyes search the crowd and finally
focus, and the twitch of her shoulders told Penelope she recognized him, too. “You’ve seen him before, too, haven’t you?”

Shana nodded.
“At Pembroke Point, a few nights before the fire.”

“How many?”
Penelope pressed her.

“I’m not sure. Maybe…maybe it was Thursday night.”

Penelope sat back in her chair, trying to keep an eye on the man without exposing her full face. “Keep your head turned away,” she said. “He and another guy spent Thursday night at the B&B. Gave me the wrong names, of course. And the next night, one of them was picked up in Ft. Smith, but they didn’t get this one.”

“What do you suppose he’s doing here? Looking for us?”

“I hope not. Finish your ice cream, and let’s go.”

“All of a sudden it tastes like cardboard.”

The two women went the opposite direction and ducked into a boutique. When Penelope didn’t see the man any longer, she tugged at Shana’s arm. “All clear.” Outside she said, “Tell me about him.”

“There’s nothing to tell. He was there, that’s all.”

“Alone?”

“Once or twice.”

“Was he the one with Roger on the night of the fire?”

“Maybe.
I didn’t get a good look at the other man in the car.”

“But it could’ve been him,” Penelope persisted.

“It could have. You don’t think he’s looking for us, do you?”

“You’ve asked me that before. Maybe Sam’s
here looking for him.”

“Or he’s looking for Sam. I’m not convinced Sam’s the good guy.”

“I want to believe he is, but I wouldn’t stake my life on it. I think he’s got some legit connections. How else would he get us new drivers’ licenses with our pictures and hand us a thousand bucks to play with?”

“I don’t think he gave it to us to play with.” Shana nodded at the trolley bus which had just stopped. “Let’s go on up the road to that haunted hotel.”

“Haven’t you seen enough ghosts for one day?”

Shana’s mouth twisted. “Not dead
ones, and they’re a lot safer.”

****

Chief Harley Malone appeared on the ten  o’clock news out of Little Rock. He made a brief statement saying there were no new developments in the fire but one of the bodies had been tentatively identified as Travis Pembroke. He declined to comment on whether or not the DEA or the FBI were involved in the investigation.

“Of course, they are,” Penelope said, turning off the television. “And they haven’t identified Travis Pembroke.”

“Why are you so sure?” Shana asked.

“His ring for one thing.”

“You keep going back to that. Maybe somebody realized it was missing and tossed one into the gin as a clue.”

“I’ve thought of that, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not? Who else do you know who wears a UA ring?”

“I told you I wasn’t going to tell you his name. But if I ever get the pieces of the puzzle put together, I might.”

Shana switched off the light. “Thanks—I think.”

Penelope closed her eyes and tried not to think about Roger
Sitton, the man who had worn the unearned ring for thirty years. He’d dropped out mid-way through his junior year, but somehow he’d acquired a ring anyway.
I thought I knew him, but I didn’t even know Travis after living with him all those years. Was Roger wearing the ring that night there was trouble at the Sit-n-Swill? Would I have even noticed it?

Shana’s voice came out of the darkness. “Don’t you think
it’s odd Chief Malone didn’t mention us? You anyway. Everyone probably thinks I’m the other body, but it’s got to be obvious by now that you and your father just sort of disappeared overnight.”

“They’re keeping a lid on things,” Penelope said.

“News reporters don’t do that.”

“Sometimes they do if they’re convinced it’s a matter of life and death. And Sam seems to think it is.”

Shana turned over. “Is it really, or is he just trying to scare us enough to stay out of the way?”

Penelope stared into the darkness. “Shana, there’s no reason you shouldn’t go home. I can pay for your plane ticket in cash, and nobody would ever know.”

“Sam would find out.”

“Let him. At least you’d be safe.”

Shana’s silence told Penelope she was considering the offer. Then, “No, I’m sticking.”

“Why? You could be home with your family and out of this whole blessed mess.”

“Not if whoever might be looking for me knows where I come from. I don’t want to put my family in danger. And I don’t like leaving you alone either.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe myself something. I made a bad decision, moving in with Travis like that, and I more or less lost my self-respect. Maybe I can get some of it back if I hang around and see this thing through with you.”

“You’ve got my respect, if it
makes you feel any better.”

“Thanks, Mr
s. Pembroke. Coming from you, it means a lot.”

****

(Wednesday)

They kept to their room most of the next day, leaving only for breakfast and later at five to swim and enjoy Happy Hour at the pool. Just before dark, Penelope managed to maneuver the car through the streets to the Crescent Hotel and find a parking space. Inside, they bought tickets for the Ghost Tour.

Penelope only half-listened to the guide as they began their tour. Her eyes darted into shadowy corners and doorways, wondering if Sam—or the other man—would jump out at them.
I’m more spooked than I thought, and not by ghosts.

At the end of the tour, they went to the top floor and had a sandwich at the Baker Bistro, named for the self-styled doctor who bilked people out of thousands of dollars with his promises of a cancer cure. Later they ended up in rocking chairs on the back veranda. “So what did you think?” Shana asked.

“I thought it was fascinating. I love history.”

“Did you see anything?”

“No.”

“Neither did
I.”

“Did you want to?”

Shana sighed. “It might have been fun.”

“I could sit here all night,” Penelope said. “This is as relaxed as I’ve been for two weeks.”

“It’s nice.”

Penelope leaned her head back. “It sure is.”

Just before eleven, as they were leaving by the front door, Penelope grabbed Shana’s arm when she saw a familiar figure crossing the parking lot toward them.

“Quick, in the car,” Penelope hissed i
n Shana’s ear.
            “What?” At that moment, Shana saw Travis Pembroke, too. “Oh, good night!”

The women ducked behind a pillar and waited for Travis to pass them, but he didn’t come up the front steps. After a minute, Penelope shoved Shana down the steps. “Run,” she said.

In the car, with the doors locked, the two sat for a few minutes catching their breath and trying to reconcile seeing the walking dead. “I guess we saw our ghost after all,” Shana said in a shaky voice.

“Not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. Was it really him, or are we seeing things?”

“Both of us?
I don’t think so.” Penelope started the car and drove out of the parking lot. “Watch to see nobody follows us back to the hotel.”

“Do you think he’s staying at the Crescent?”

“Either that or meeting someone there. He’s blessed not going on the next ghost tour.”

“They’re over for the night.”

“I didn’t mean that literally.” Penelope drove slowly on the narrow, almost empty streets. “I don’t think he saw us.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“Hope we run into Sam again, I guess. Of course, he might know Travis is here. He might’ve put us here to keep an eye on all three of us at the same time.”

Shana shivered.
“Fattening the Christmas geese for the kill. Or, killing three birds with one stone.”

“Or something.”

They stopped for soft drinks from the machine at the end of the corridor. Penelope put the deadbolt lock and the chain in place as soon as they were inside the room and shoved a chair against the door. “At least it’s not an outside room with a plate glass window,” she observed. “Bang, bang.”

Shana got her nightshirt from the drawer. “I’m glad now you brought George.”

“So am I.” Penelope changed into her pajamas and slipped the gun under her pillow. When Shana came out of the bathroom, they sat cross-legged in
the middle of their beds, drinking soda and trying to make sense out of their situation.

“Is there anything at all you haven’t mentioned?” Penelope asked. “Something you didn’t think was important, but I might make some sense out of it?”

Shana frowned. “I’ve tried to think, but Travis always made sure I was out of the way when someone came to the house. I never overheard a single conversation.” She sighed. “Sherlock Holmes I’m not.”

An electric shock went through Penelope. “Holmes! That’s it!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The name Holmes.
My mother-in-law was Eleanor Holmes from Montgomery, Alabama.”

“So?”

“She had a younger brother, also named Travis. He came to see her once or twice, and I remember thinking how much he looked like Travis—or how much Travis looked like him.”

“I’m not following you.”

“It was like looking at Travis thirty years down the road, and I remember saying something like that to Mrs. Pembroke once. She said, ‘I hope the resemblance stops on the surface’, and when I asked her what she meant by that, she told me to let it go.”

“So the Holmes weren’t upstanding people?”

“They had money, I know that much. Cotton money. She said the family’s plantation was so isolated it didn’t suffer the destruction a lot of places did during the Civil War.”

“I still don’t know where this is going.”

“Well, what she said bothered me, so I asked Travis about his uncle. He said his uncle was growing more than cotton on the family land, and his mother knew it. Then he clammed up and wouldn’t say any more.”

“Marijuana is a plant. Heroin comes from the poppy flower. And cocaine comes from the coca shrub, but I think that’s grown in South America
and Asia and a few other place.”

“How do you know so much about where drugs come from?”

“I did a research paper on them when I was in college. And, no, I never got any information from experience.” Shana bit her lip. “Although I knew people who did.”

“All right, say Travis Holmes was a supplier, and Travis knew it.
Then what?”

“He tried to get his nephew to grow, too?”

“Could be. That was at least twenty years ago, though. I wonder if the man’s still alive.”

“You could check the Social Security death records.”