Carolina Isle (11 page)

Ariel and Sara were the first ones out of the kitchen, but the men stepped in front of them to follow behind Phyllis. When she went up the wide staircase, her hips swayed from one side to the other so much that she almost hit the wall and the railing. Behind her, with their eyes glued to her backside, came R.J. and David. The Pied Piper didn't have such mesmerized followers.

Ariel caught David's arm. “She said, ‘I've put you in the nanny's suite.'”

“So?” he asked.

“She was telling us that she knew we were coming. She's putting us up there for a reason.”

“Ariel,” David said with exaggerated patience, “I know that what's happened to us has been awful, but I don't think this entire island could be as bad as you think it is. If this were the nineteenth century, maybe, but not now.”

“You're so right, David. What was I thinking? Nowadays there is no murder or crime of horrific proportions. All the serial killers have been caught. All the criminals put away. And, besides, you've been to college while I stayed behind in our sleepy little town, so what could I possibly know?” She stepped in front of him and went up the stairs.

Behind her, David threw up his hands in exasperation, then followed Ariel.

O
N THE WAY UP THE STAIRS
, R.J.
WHIS
pered to Sara, “You two need to stop glowering. Get on her good side.”

“Like you and David are doing?” she said as she moved beside Ariel. “So how much do you hate her?”

“Scale of one to ten? About a thousand.”

“Me? A million.”

“Look at them,” Ariel said. “They're like cartoon characters drooling over her.” Phyllis Vancurren was bulging out of her shirt and trousers
and the men were doing their best to see all that wasn't showing—which wasn't much.

“Wonder why she put us way up at the top of the house?” Sara asked. Then, stepping on a creaking floorboard, said, “Better than an alarm system.”

On the second floor, Phyllis pointed out her own bedroom. It was a huge room, with a four-poster bed that was draped in a fine cotton-and-silk blend.

“That fabric costs at least two hundred dollars a yard,” Ariel whispered to Sara, “and in the hall I saw what looked to be three genuine Hepple-white chairs with new upholstery.”

“If she doesn't need money, then why is she taking in roomers?”

Ariel nodded toward David.

“You think she wants David?” Sara gasped.

Ahead of them, Phyllis and the men had stopped chatting.

“My goodness!” Ms. Vancurren said, looking at Ariel as they entered the sitting room. “What a look!”

“Don't mind Ariel, she's just nervous about Monday,” R.J. said. Behind Phyllis's back, he gave Ariel a warning look to be nice.

“Ah, yes, that,” Ms. Vancurren said. She sat down on one of the two little sofas in the sitting room and spread her arms across the back, which made her breasts even more prominent. David and R.J., eyes glazed, sat on the sofa across from her. “I guess you want to know about that.”

Sara and Ariel sat on chairs that had been upholstered with fabric adorned with a bunny rabbit pattern and they all listened to what the woman was saying. As she talked, Sara looked about the room. There were bars on the windows—to keep children from falling out, or to keep them in? Had they left prison to return to prison?

First, Ms. Vancurren told them about herself, saying that she wasn't from King's Isle. She'd married an older man who lived in Pennsylvania, and when he died she was horrified to find out that he'd left everything to his first wife. All she got was an old house on the island where his father had grown up, and a tiny insurance policy. It was enough to live on, but not enough to have any fun with. “If you know what I mean,” she said. Both men nodded vigorously.

Sara and Ariel exchanged looks. They didn't believe a word of it. Next, Phyllis told them that
Fenny Nezbit was a loser and a liar, but he was the judge's relative, and the Nezbit family had lived on the island for centuries. “So what I'm saying is that it could go either way on Monday.”

“Why was the town empty today?” Sara asked.

“Annual Whale Day,” she said, smiling. “We're a small island and we all know one another, so we tend to do things together. You can imagine our surprise when we got back and heard all that had gone on.”

“Lassiter said there were witnesses who would testify that we had …” R.J. couldn't seem to go on.

“Maybe there are witnesses, but did you ask the sheriff's men about them?” Phyllis seemed to be hinting that the witnesses wouldn't be all they were supposed to be.

“Actually, we didn't really get a chance to talk to anyone,” David said.

“If I were you,” Phyllis said with an air of conspiracy, “I wouldn't worry too much. I'm sure Judge Proctor will throw out everything on Monday morning. And I'm sure that the entire police force knows that you didn't kill a dog. It's just that in the past we've had some problems with outsiders, so the police tend to be careful.”

“What happened to make the police suspicious of outsiders?” Sara asked quickly.

Phyllis waved her hand as though that wasn't important, then looked at Ariel and smiled. “I can see that you've heard some of those outrageous stories about us. We are truly wicked people.” She said this as though it couldn't possibly be true.

“What stories?” R.J. asked, at last leaning back against the couch. He was a man of the world so he'd seen lots of women with the raw sex appeal that this woman had, but David was watching her with his mouth slightly open.

“Oh, you know,” Ms. Vancurren said, then moved on the couch in a way that made her breasts jiggle.

“No, I don't know.” R.J. narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. Sara wanted to hug him! Was he beginning to look past what he was being told and see underneath? Underneath something besides her clothes, that is.

The woman glanced at Sara, then at Ariel. “You mean you haven't heard how we kidnap mainlanders?” She gave a smile that was supposed to make her look innocent, but it lost its effect since two-thirds of her breasts were exposed.
“According to the mainlanders, we arrest tourists and keep them in jail for absolutely years.”

R.J. raised an eyebrow at her. “And you don't?”

She shrugged in a way that almost made her right breast pop out of her shirt. When she moved, Sara saw the front of her bra and she was sure it was Aubade. If she was broke, how did she afford French underwear? “I have some work I must do and I know that you have things you want to do.” She gave the men a leering look, as though she knew all of them were going to jump into an orgy as soon as she left.

When she stood up, R.J. and David jumped to their feet, and Sara was afraid they were going to ask the woman to stay.

“I'll leave you to it then,” Phyllis said. “Sorry about your luggage being impounded, but you'll get it back.”

“And the car and all our cash?” Sara asked.

“Is there somewhere we could get dinner?” R.J. asked.

“Oh, you poor babies,” she said, purring toward the men—and not answering Sara's question. “If I could cook, I'd make you a fabulous meal.”
She gave a little look that said she may not be able to cook but that she had, well … other talents. “Go to the pub and tell them to put your meal on my account.”

As she left the room, the two men fell all over themselves thanking her for her generosity.

Ten minutes later, the four of them were heading down the stairs, but Sara was hanging back.

“What are you doing?” Ariel whispered.

“Counting steps and seeing which ones make noise. If we want to get out of this place, we need silence, and a way to avoid this old-house alarm.”

“Good thinking. Cover me,” Ariel said. “I need to do something.”

“You—?” Sara began, but Ariel had already tiptoed back up the stairs.

As soon as the three of them were outside, David said, “Where is she?”

“Bathroom,” Sara answered.

“Ariel is snooping, isn't she?” David said.

“I really have no idea. I wonder why the people here call an American restaurant a ‘public house' as they do in England?” she said, trying to change the subject.

Five minutes later, Ariel came out the front
door and Sara went to her. “What did you do?” she whispered.

“I wanted to try the telephone that I saw in her bedroom. It was dead. I didn't have time to see if the problem was that it was unplugged before I heard her coming.”

“I wish you'd be more careful. I don't trust that woman,” Sara said. “And where did you learn to sneak around like that?”

“When you have a mother like mine, you learn to sneak—and lie. I'm good at both. Wait up!” she called to the men and hurried ahead.

R.J. stopped walking and held out his arm to Sara. She took it.

“We'll fix this,” David said. “After a good dinner—”

“‘Eat, drink, and be merry,'” R.J. quoted.

“‘For tomorrow we die,'” Sara finished.

W
HEN THEY REACHED THE RESTAURANT
the locals called a pub, all four of them smiled. The interior did indeed look like an English pub, down to the horse brasses hanging around the huge walk-in fireplace. It was warm weather so the fire wasn't lit, but it was easy to imagine that it was lovely when it was.

The waitress treated them as though she was used to strangers. None of the other patrons so much as glanced at them as they were shown to
their booth. Ariel and Sara sat beside each other, the men across from them.

The waitress passed out menus, photocopied sheets inserted into those old-fashioned black-trimmed plastic holders. The men ordered beers, Sara ordered a gin and tonic, while Ariel asked for sparkling water with a slice of lime.

“I think we should try to enjoy our time on the island,” David said when the waitress was gone.

“Should we enjoy the ‘no money' part first or the ‘coming trial' part first?” Sara asked.

David acted like she hadn't spoken. “We've met someone good, we have a charge account, and we'll get off the island on Monday. Someday we'll look back on all this as an adventure.”

The waitress gave them their drinks and as soon as she was out of earshot, Sara said, “I don't trust that Vancurren woman,” then the women laughed because Ariel had said the same thing at the same time.

“Boo, hissss,” R.J. said, sipping his beer. “Both of you are jealous.”

“Of what?!” Ariel and Sara demanded, then
laughed again, because again, they'd said the same thing together.

“We were good at exchanging places,” Sara said.

“You were abysmal,” R.J. said. “Although I like your new clothes, and what did you do with that wig? Do they make it in red?”

“That doesn't matter,” Sara said, “and don't start another argument. Ariel and I don't trust her and we don't like her.”

“And every word she spoke was a lie,” Ariel said.

R.J. looked at David. “Did she talk? I didn't notice that she could talk, did you?”

“I thought she was a deaf mute,” David said. “Never said a word, but the hand gestures were nice.”

“Both of you are despicable,” Sara said.

“I agree,” Ariel said. “Any woman could dress like that and look like that, but a lady—”

She cut herself off because both David and R.J. pointedly looked at her breasts. Neither Ariel nor Sara was flat-chested by any means, but neither were they burdened with breasts the size of cantaloupes.

Ariel was unperturbed. “Wherever do you think she found a surgeon on this island?” she asked in mock innocence.

“She could have had them done in California,” Sara said. “You know, back when they were pioneering implants. I wonder what they're full of? Some poisonous gel? Maybe she should have them checked.”

“Okay, you two,” R.J. said, grinning. “Have you decided what you want to eat?”

“Seafood,” Sara said.

“Yes, definitely seafood,” David said, then he and Sara smiled at each other. They were making a joke because there was nothing but seafood on the menu.

“Let's see,” Sara said, thoroughly pleased to have David's attention, “they have fried seafood, steamed seafood, or grilled seafood. Or, they mix seafood with other seafood, then they fry it or steam it, or they put it all together in a little dish and bake it.” David was smiling more broadly with every word she spoke.

“Could you just say what you want to eat without the editorial?” R.J. snapped.

With David's laughing eyes on her, Sara put
her finger on the menu, ran it down the page, stopped, then looked. “Number eight. Fried clams, flounder, and shrimp.” When David did the same thing, she said, “What did you get?”

“Oysters,” he said in a low, seductive voice that suggested the long-held belief that oysters give a person sexual appetite. Sara laughed suggestively right back at him. R.J.'s glare was making her feel good—and after the events of the day, she needed whatever could make her feel good. “Oysters …” she said. “Oh, yes. Let's have oysters.”

The waitress's arrival stopped Sara from saying more and they gave their orders. As soon as she left, Sara looked at David to let him know she was ready to continue the teasing, but R.J. leaned across the table to Ariel and said, “I want to hear everything you know about this island.”

Ariel looked around the restaurant as though she thought the other people in the restaurant were listening. “I've been told that they do what was done to us,” she said.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“That isn't enough?”

“I guess it is,” R.J. said. “The Internet sites say
the same thing. I just thought you might know something more.”