03 - Three Odd Balls (19 page)

“We?” I squeaked. “Out there?” I cringed. “In, like, the wilderness?”

“Yes, we! Yes, out there!” Louise waved her hands around the breakfast table. “All of us need to go, except maybe Tessie. There must be all kinds of places to search.” She again indicated the big, bad, bug-infested wilderness. “Caves, caverns, nooks, crannies!”

I appealed to Wilson to save me. “Umm, we have some other plans for the day. Don’t we, Wilson?”

“Our plans can wait.” He spoke to me, but he was watching Louise, who looked like she might start crying again. “But we’ll get a lot further without Jessie,” he added, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “We don’t want her with us, slowing us down and screaming bloody murder at every bug and cobweb.”

“Jessie gets the heebie jeebies,” Mother explained. “I’m afraid she wouldn’t be helpful at all.”

“She’d be useless,” Wilson added.

“Useless,” Mother agreed.

“Useless?” Louise repeated in case someone hadn’t yet caught on.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“Yes you are,” my mother and my beau said in unison.

“We’ll bring Chris,” Wilson announced, summarily dismissing my would-be contributions to the effort. “The kid’s got better eyesight and hearing than the rest of us put together. If Bee Bee’s out there, Chris will find him.”

Mother shook her head. “No, Wilson honey. Chris has plans to go free-boarding with Emi today.”

“Free-boarding?” I asked. “What is that, even?”

“It’s suicidal, is what it is.” Faye approached our table with a fresh pot of coffee. “They hook their surfboards up to a boat like waterskiing. My kids swear it’s not as dangerous as it looks, but I can’t watch.” She topped off a few cups and turned to Wilson. “And your son was out late at the Holiday Hula last night, right? I hope he’s resting up.”

“He is,” Mother assured us. “He got in very late last night after walking Emi home. He told me he’d sleep in this morning before his lesson. I understand Emi’s quite accomplished at this free-boarding skill.”

“Better your kid than mine,” Faye said ominously as Wilson handed her his empty plate.

He glanced at Louise. “So it’s just us and the Kekipi Crater.”

I looked up at Faye and waved an index finger back and forth between Wilson and Louise. “Speaking of suicidal, these two are going off into the wilderness in search of Bee Bee.”

“Buster will be glad to hear it. The poor guy’s been worried sick.” Faye gathered the rest of our plates and wandered off toward The Big House.

“Give me a minute to go get my hiking boots, and I’ll meet you by the Christmas tree,” Wilson told Louise. He stood up but remembered to bend down and kiss me. “And we’ll take our little excursion later on?” he whispered in my ear.

I pretended to pout. “Maybe then I won’t be so useless.”

He reminded me I really did not want to go hiking. “But here’s something you can do.” He reached into his pocket and handed me his cell phone. “I’m expecting a phone call.”

“Densmore?” I mouthed.

Wilson jerked a thumb volcano-ward. “There’s no signal up there. You’ll take a message?”

I assured him I would, and he wandered off in the direction of Paradise. Louise and Mother were staring at me when I turned back to the table.

“What are you two up to now?” Louise asked.

“Silly Louise,” Mother said. “They’re still sleuthing, aren’t they?”

I reminded Louise that she, too, was sleuthing. “If Bee Bee’s a witness and you find him on this hike of yours, you’ll be a hero.”

Louise pursed her lips. “Do you think I should have mentioned to your paramour that I’ve never actually been hiking?” She tore her gaze from the volcano. “Hiking’s kind of like swimming and driving for me.”

“Oh, but look how well you’re doing at both of those things,” Mother said encouragingly and I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t even own a pair of hiking boots,” Louise confessed. “What should I wear, Jessica?”

I pointed to my useless self. “You’re asking me?”

Apparently she was, so I told her to avoid anything she had gotten at one of her fancy Manhattan shoe stores.

“How about sneakers?” Mother suggested. “Didn’t you bring anything with traction?”

“My running shoes.” Louise stood up and faced the Kekipi Crater. “If Delta Touchette can face the sinister Urquit Snodgrass barefoot and wrapped in nothing but a leaf, surely I can go hiking in my Nikes!”

She ran off in search of her shoes, and I rolled my eyes yet again.

***

“To Bee Bee,” Mother said and clanked her coffee cup against mine.

I pursed my lip and studied the old gal. “Did Christopher Rye visit your bed again last night, Mother?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“I know that. But I still don’t understand what the two of you find to talk about night after night.”

“I told you, Jessie. We talk about you and Wilson.”

“And?” I asked. “Has Chris divulged his father’s deep dark secrets?”

Mother sighed dramatically. “That poor, sweet, darling man.”

“What?” I said. “Please tell me. Pleeeease?”

She shook her head. “Didn’t we agree you should ask Wilson about this yourself?”

“I did ask him. And he agreed he would tell me everything. But not until our vacation is over.” I sat back and slumped. “How annoying is that?”

Mother patted my hand and stood up. “Patience, Jessie.” She wished me luck getting Delta out of her current predicament and tottered off toward Misty Breezes bungalow. “I’ll be resting on my porch if you or Skylar Staggs need any advice,” she called over her shoulder.

I frowned at the cluster of massive poinsettia bushes stationed at the edge of the patio. Yep, I thought, annoying about sums it up. Not only was my mother ignoring my plight, but Faye had also disappeared, and was completely neglecting my empty coffee cup. Wilson and Louise had forgotten about me, too. Deep in conversation about their impending Bee Bee-hunting expedition, neither of them gave me the slightest notice as they passed by the table.

“Buster will have some ideas of where we should start,” Wilson was saying to Louise.

“Where, where, where?” she repeated and followed him into The Big House.

Chapter 20

Eleanor Touchette sat down and had herself a good cry.

Alarmed and stunned, Skylar Staggs stood before her, trying to understand what he had said to upset the lady so. He rocked from foot to foot until Eleanor finally looked up. She apologized for her unmannerly greeting, but when Skylar reached out and tentatively offered her his handkerchief, the woman sobbed even more.

Poor Skylar was again at a loss. For the lawman of Port Mekipii Hui was unaccustomed to provoking this kind of reaction from any woman, no matter her age. Hoping for the moment to pass, he stood silently and stared at the portrait of a young girl hanging over the mantle.

Eventually Eleanor Touchette did get hold of herself. She sat up straight and invited Mr. Staggs to join her on the settee. She even composed herself enough to enquire as to why he was back on Ebony Island so soon after escorting her niece over.

“The Pirate of Diamond Island,” he answered. And at the risk of provoking another emotional outburst from the older woman, he reported that an unseemly and degenerate-looking man had been spotted lugging large canvas satchels of who knows what into the jungles of Ebony Island.

Actually, Skylar did have a theory about what was in those satchels. “Gold,” he said. Gold and jewels—ill-gotten gains from a recent robbery back at Port Mekipii Hui.

Eleanor Touchette let out another sob and gazed up at the portrait of the beautiful little girl. Skylar looked also, and it finally dawned on him who the child was—Delta Touchette, of course! He asked how the younger Miss Touchette was enjoying her visit to the South Seas, only to have the older Miss Touchette resume wailing. Skylar braced himself and again wondered out loud what the trouble was.

“Delta!” Eleanor cried between many sighs and tears. And with much wringing of hands, she finally explained what was upsetting her so.

“You mean, she’s out there!” Skylar jumped to his feet and hastened to the parlor window as Eleanor mumbled something about Delta’s quest to find the ferocious jungle monster.

How ridiculous, he thought to himself. But even if the supposed Monster of Ebony Island didn’t interest him, Delta Touchette certainly did. Skylar stared out the window and harkened back to sailing the seas with the lovely and rather forward young lady by his side. Oh, but she was a feisty one! And when that storm had almost destroyed his sailing vessel? The brave and daring damsel had taken it in her stride, and despite her lack of experience, had handled the rigs and ropes most proficiently. In fact, he never would have been able to right his ship without her assistance.

Skylar smiled to himself, remembering the scene after they were back on more friendly seas. The lady was friendly, too…

But Eleanor Touchette was tapping him on the shoulder. He recovered himself and remembered his purpose as she confessed how profoundly worried she was. Delta had failed to return for supper the previous evening, and had now been gone for well over twenty-four hours!

Eleanor wrung her hands. “Whatever could have become of her?” she entreated Mr. Staggs.

Skylar knew not. But he vowed to find out.

He did not wish to cause Miss Eleanor further alarm, but a most disturbing thought occurred to him as he took his leave of Emerald Estate. For Skylar Staggs was quite certain that wherever he found his passionate adventuress, he would also find the Pirate of Diamond Island.

***

Speaking of criminal behavior, the Coochie brothers were back at it. I looked up from my work as an utterly uninspired rendition of “Folsom Prison” wafted its way from the Song of the Sea up to the porch at Paradise. Apparently the brothers didn’t realize they needed Johnny Cash for that one.

Prison. I closed my eyes and listened to the lyrics, and my overactive imagination pictured Christopher Rye behind bars. Okay, so he wasn’t exactly my favorite person, but he was Wilson’s son. And more importantly, he was innocent.

I opened my eyes and glared at Wilson’s cell phone. What could be taking Russell Densmore so long to call back? After all, Wilson had only given the guy about ninety different assignments the previous evening. Surely the research whiz of the Clarence PD had ascertained most of the answers by now?

And what about me, for that matter? Why was I, a world-class amateur sleuth, lollygagging around letting everyone else do all the work? Lieutenant Densmore, Wilson, and even Geez Louise were all being far more productive than I. So maybe the conclusion we had reached at breakfast had been accurate. Maybe I was useless.

I stood up and started pacing to “A Boy Named Sue,” and Sue was embroiled in a rather unpleasant showdown with his father by the time I remembered something I could do. I sat back down and grabbed my own cell phone.

“Oh, Jessie!” Candy cried the second she answered and commenced sobbing Eleanor Touchette-style.

I sat up straight. “What’s wrong?”

“The ca—” she stuttered. “The ca—” A hiccup. “The ca—”

“The cats?” I said as my heart rate reached for the stratosphere. “Did they hurt each other? Is anyone dead? Oh my Lord, Candy! Is it Snowflake?”

“It’s Wally!”

“Wally’s dead!?” I screamed, and the Coochie brothers actually shut up as Candy screamed back a few thousand no’s.

Hal, or Cal, or whoever called over to ask if everything were okay. I waved a distracted hand and told them to keep playing.

Then I interrupted Candy’s incessant sobbing. “So Wally isn’t dead?” I clarified in as calm a voice as I could muster.

“No, but he is hurt.”

Wally? I scowled at the bougainvillea and reminded Candy everyone got along fine with Wally. It was Snowflake and Bernice who were having such a feline feud.

“Yeah, but —” Hiccup, sob, wail. “But—”

“Oh, for Lord’s sake. But what?”

“But it wasn’t a cat fight, Jessie. It was me!” she squealed and continued crying. “I’m the one who hurt Wally. I stepped on him. I feel so bad about it.”

I bit down on my right fist and let out a sob of my own. I imagined Candy did feel bad, but probably not as bad as poor little Wally. My friend Candy Poppe is the queen of stiletto heels—four-inch, sharp, pointy stiletto heels.

“Which pair were you wearing?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.

“The gold ones. It was at breakfast-time this morning.”

Okay, so I know what you’re thinking. Gold stilettos at breakfast-time? Well, yes, actually. I could even picture the exact pair, adorned with gold glitter and silver satin bows. Candy is a rather flamboyant dresser. And it was the holiday season, after all.

“I was trying to keep Snowflake and Bernice from killing each other,” she was saying.

“Snowflake doesn’t like it when Bernice eats from her bowl.”

“And Wally?” I asked.

“He was playing with Puddles. You know Puddles? My poodle?”

I took a deep breath and reminded Candy that of course I knew who Puddles was, since the little dog spends about half of his life in my condo.

“Yeah, well, Puddles and Wally were running around while I was feeding the other two, and I guess I wasn’t watching what I was doing, and I stepped backwards.”

I braced myself. “Where?”

“In your kitchen. Right next to Snowflake’s food dish.”

“Candy!”

“Oh,” she said. “You meant where did I step on Wally, huh? His right front paw. He screamed so loud Bernice stopped eating. It was awful.”

I cringed as I pictured the damage.

“Crunch,” Candy added, and I cringed some more.

“You took him to the vet?” I asked.

“Karen did. I was too upset, so I stayed here with Snowflake, and Bernice, and Puddles.”

“What did Dr. Smith do?” At the thought of Annie Smith, I allowed myself to feel at least slightly relieved. She’s the best vet in Clarence, and she knows Snowflake, Puddles, and both of Wilson’s cats. If anyone could heal Wally, it was Dr. Smith.

Sure enough, Candy reported that Wally was going to be okay. “Nothing’s broken, just badly bruised,” she elaborated. “He’s got his paw all wrapped up for a few days. Dr. Smith promises he isn’t in pain anymore, but I still feel so bad.”