Island Blues (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-three

“Oof!”

The impact knocked Sabrina back into the bushes and she had just enough time to worry about poison ivy before hitting the ground. Later, it would occur to her that her priorities might be a tad skewed if poison ivy was her biggest worry upon being knocked to her backside on a dark, deserted path mere hours after another woman was attacked.

The man who had run into her spared her a brief, unreadable glance, and then went off down the path without apologizing. It was the bald, burly man from the bar, and he obviously wasn't feeling any more kindly to her now than he had before.

“What are you doing?” Michael Siderius loomed, staring down at her in puzzlement.

“Could you help me up?”

“Oh. Yeah. I'm sorry. Sure.”

He extended a hand and Sabrina used it to struggle to her feet. She took stock, and decided that she was probably fine, barring a fracture to her tailbone, an unfortunate encounter with a poisonous plant, or a bite from some unseen insect. Perhaps she would go ahead and make that appointment with Doc Hailey tomorrow.

“Do you know that man? The one in the leather coat? I saw you talking to him, right before he turned around and ran into me. He seemed to be in a hurry.”

“That man? No, I don't know him. I was asking him if he'd seen my father. How about you, have you seen him?”

“Joseph? No, I haven't seen him. You've lost your father?”

It was hard to read his expression in the dim light, but his shrug was impatient. “Ever since we got to this island he's been going off by himself. After we saw Sophie, he took off and I've been looking for him ever since.”

“I'm sure he just decided to take a walk for some fresh air. I
have
been wanting to talk with you, Michael.”

“Yeah? Well, I'm sorry, but I'm kind of busy right now. I need to go look for Dad.”

“I'll go with you.” As soon as she made the offer, Sabrina felt the little angel on her shoulder shake his head in disapproval. It was late, it was dark, there was both a killer and a possible rapist on the loose tonight.

“Whatever.” It was grudging, but it was permission. Sabrina followed after Michael as he turned down another path, strong aftershave trailing behind him like a noxious cape.

“I was wondering if you had any thoughts on who killed Gilbert. Did he have any enemies?” Sabrina tripped over a loose shell and almost fell, but Michael didn't even pause to look over his shoulder.

“The police already asked me that.”

“I'm sure they did. Now I'm asking.” She was getting tired, and plunging into the dark after a man who might well be a murderer was not her idea of fun.

“Gilbert was a business man. I'm sure he made some enemies, but I can't think of anyone angry enough to kill him.” Michael's voice was clipped and short as he headed farther away from the lodge into the darkness.

“I understand he quarreled with Lance Mayhew. Do you know anything about that?”

This at least slowed him a little. He looked back over his shoulder. “Lance? Why do you say that?”

“They were seen arguing.” At least he had stopped so she could catch her breath, though they stood in a patch of shadow so it was hard to read Michael's expression.

“Well, I don't know anything about an argument between Lance and Gilbert. I'm sure it wasn't anything important since Gilbert didn't mention it. Gilbert reported to me, you know.” The words were peevish, as if he was tired of having to remind everyone who was in charge of Hummers International.

“I understand it was over money. Do the people who sign up for your retreat often complain about the amount of money you charge?”

“Never. All of them feel that it is money well spent. My father is a very important man, you know, and some people would pay a lot more money than we charge to spend a week in his company.” Michael felt comfortable enough with this subject to resume his journey down the winding path.

Since nothing the Hummers had said contradicted this statement, Sabrina couldn't argue as she stumbled after him. Her implication that the Hummers charged too much for their retreat was getting her nowhere. She tried another tack.

“Gilbert didn't seem to think the people who signed up for your retreat are very intelligent. He called them dumb and gullible.” She was desperate for some type of reaction from him.

Another pause, and Michael turned back to her. “He called them what?”

“Dumb and gullible.”

Michael shook his head. “That doesn't sound right. It does not reflect how we, at Hummers International, regard our members at all. We think they are very special and unique.”

“Then why would he say something like that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Do any of the Hummers on the island have reason to want to kill Gilbert?”

“Why would they? Our only goal is to help them harness their amazing gift.”

“And how do you do that? What goes on at your sessions? I've heard several people refer to them as ‘rituals.' What kind of rituals are you performing that you need so much privacy?”

This was shouted after Michael's retreating back. He didn't even slow down as he disappeared around a curve.

Sabrina shook her head. She had run out of questions and the stomach for hurtling down an unstable path through the dark night.

She turned back up the path, thinking back over their conversation. Her impression of Michael remained unchanged. He reminded her of a six-year-old put in charge of a toy factory. Here he was charging around at all hours of the night searching for his father. Where was Joseph, anyway?

As if her thoughts conjured him, she saw Joseph descending an adjoining path. He moved silently, as if under his long flowing pants his feet were pedaling along on air, instead of the hard shells and rock that Sabrina was traversing.

“Joseph!” she called, but he did not pause. Father and son shared a knack for ignoring her, Sabrina reflected, as she hurried after yet another Siderius.

“Joseph, could I speak with you a moment?” She caught up enough to catch the edge of his sleeve and tug. He slowed and looked back over his shoulder at her. She drew back, astonished by what the watery light of the moon revealed.

The old man was crying. Tears streamed down a face ravaged by grief, his eyes twin cavities of despair and misery.

“What's wrong? Joseph, are you all right? Are you looking for your son? He went down that way looking for you. Stay here and I'll go get him for you.” His grief was catching and Sabrina felt a sob catch in her own throat as she patted his arm with desperate sympathy.

He turned his head to look down the path and then looked back into her face. His mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Shaking his head, he patted her on the hand, a gesture of acknowledgment, of affinity, that sent tingles up her arm. Then he turned and continued up the path.

***

By the time she arrived at Patti's cottage, Sabrina was dirty and exhausted, and her head was buzzing. After running into Joseph Siderius, she had gotten lost. This was no great surprise, but if she hadn't run into a police officer with a flashlight, she thought she might still be out there wandering the dark, sinuous paths.

Sergeant Jimmy and Patti were talking outside the cottage and, forgetting her weariness, she rushed toward them.

“Is Sophie okay?”

“Sabrina, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you.” Sergeant Jimmy's comprehensive look took in her disheveled appearance.

“I was—I'm here now. What's going on?”

“Sophie is fine. Between Doc Hailey and Master Joseph, she calmed right down, enough to fall asleep. Though she wouldn't do that until Dennis was sitting next to her holding her hand.” Patti's smile was maternal and a bit conniving, the proud mama seeing her chick safely mated up. “I don't know what to think, Sabrina. Sergeant Jimmy just told me that they tracked down Shane Ludrow.”

“Already? That's wonderful!”

“They tracked him down in London. It's been verified and everything. There's no way he could have been here tonight in Sophie's room. So who attacked her?”

Sabrina wasn't entirely surprised. She'd thought all along that Sophie's naming of her ex-boyfriend as her attacker was based on fear and assumption, rather than a clear-headed identification. “Now the question is,” she said, “was the person who attacked Sophie our serial burglar or Gilbert's killer?”

Patti gasped. “Do you think someone is trying to kill us Hummers? Are we all in danger?”

“We don't know what's going on, ma'am,” Sergeant Jimmy said. “I think you should all be careful until we figure this thing out. Right now, why don't you try to get some sleep? I'm sure we'll want to talk to you in the morning, but we're done for the evening.”

“There's no possible way I'll sleep tonight,” Patti declared. “What if he comes back?”

Jimmy waved his hand, a meaningless gesture into the darkness until Sabrina saw a uniformed man step out from under a nearby tree.

“He'll be here all night. You can sleep in peace, ma'am.”

“What about the media? They've been a nuisance today. We couldn't even have our session today, and we're leaving on Saturday. That only leaves us two days of sessions!”

“While we are here, we'll keep out anybody who doesn't belong, including the media.”

“That'll be a relief to Sophie, I'm sure,” Sabrina said.

“I'm sure she'll appreciate it too,” Patti said, with a curious look at Sabrina. “Sabrina, you'll be here tomorrow, won't you? With all that's going on, I really feel like we need you around. We'll be going to Rainbow Island at ten, but it would be wonderful if you could be here after that.”

“I'd be happy to go with you to Rainbow Island if that would make you feel better.” Sabrina felt warmed by a flicker of appreciation. It was a cold and lonely flame that promptly went out with Patti's next words.

“Goodness, no! I mean, thank you for the offer, but our sessions are private.” Patti said her goodnights and went inside, leaving Sabrina and Jimmy alone.

“What do you think goes on at those sessions?” The words were thoughtful, and not directed at Jimmy, though he could be excused for thinking they were.

“What I'd like to know is what in the world you've been doing tonight.”

Sabrina filled him in on her various conversations, touching on Lance's argument with Gilbert, Gilbert's comment about dumb and gullible people, and her run-in with a distraught Joseph Siderius. She left out the fact that her arm still tingled from his touch, and that she was hearing a crackling noise that reminded her of the sound of Rice Krispies, just doused with milk.

“I'll pass this along.” Jimmy put away his notebook.

“Have the detectives checked Gilbert's phone records to see who called him at the bar? Maybe that person knows what Gilbert planned to do on the island. Or maybe he or she followed him to the island and killed him. It doesn't appear too many people knew he was going to the island.”

“I do know he talked to several people on his cell that day. Most of them were in New York, from the Hummers International headquarters, but he also talked to Michael and Lance Mayhew. His last call was to Sam Myers, however.”

“That makes sense. Gilbert called to tell Sam not to pick him up from the island.”

Jimmy nodded. “All three have been questioned about the conversations, and they maintain they were routine conversations, nothing important.”

“Hmmm.” This raised all sorts of interesting possibilities, but Sabrina was too tired to contemplate any of them.

“Gilbert buying a bottle of wine fits right in with another piece of evidence. We found the bottle near his body, and his blood alcohol was triple the legal limit. He was very drunk when he was on that island.”

Sabrina yawned. She was too exhausted to think of any more questions, though she knew this chance at a cooperative Jimmy shouldn't be passed up.

“Let me walk you back to your car. I need to be getting home, too. Darlene called an hour ago to tell me that the meatloaf was starting to resemble a charred football.” Jimmy steered her toward the path that led to the hotel and Sabrina didn't argue.

“What did Michael say about the scratches on his hands?” she asked through a yawn when they were almost back to her car. It was the only intelligent question she could think to ask.

“He said he fell off his room's balcony rail. There was blood there to confirm his story.”

“What in the world was he doing on his balcony rail?” The question fell on deaf ears as Jimmy answered a call on his radio.

He sighed as he clipped the radio back onto his belt. “Darlene is going to kill me, but it looks like I need to go finish some paperwork. You should be fine from here.” Jimmy opened her car door and watched until she was safely inside with doors locked and engine started. He knocked on the window, and she rolled it down.

“I wanted to tell you that I appreciate the job you're doing, Sabrina,” he said. “I wish you'd be a little more careful, but I do appreciate what you're trying to do.”

Sabrina stared at Jimmy in astonishment.

Raising a hand, he disappeared into the darkness.

Sabrina sat and smiled for a moment. Then she realized she had to use the restroom. Badly. The two glasses of water she drank with her prosciutto asparagus were clamoring to be released, and she didn't think she could last until she got home.

“If you gotta go, you gotta go.” She turned off the car and got out.

It only took her a moment to ascertain that the back door she was accustomed to using was locked. She headed for the massive front lobby doors, her bladder protesting enough that she didn't hesitate.

A woman she had not seen before manned the desk, and she was happy to point Sabrina in the direction of the restroom.