The Tangled Web: an international web of intrigue, murder and romance (7 page)

They headed toward the veranda where they found themselves alone.

“I smell night blooming jasmine,” Lauren sniffed as they sat.

“No pun intended, but you have a nose,” Logan half smiled.

Lauren shot him a questioning look.

“I noticed you pouncing on your prey earlier,” he clarified.

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I mean I saw you having a little chat with my brother-in-law.”

Lauren went silent. What had Logan observed to give him even the slightest hint of her intentions, she wondered. “What’s so unusual about that?” she asked guardedly. “He’s the host and I’m here to cover the party.”

Their eyes met.

“Is that all you’re here for, Lauren?”

“But of course. Why else would I be here? I’m not sure I’m catching your drift.”

“Lauren, let’s not play games any longer. I find it highly unlikely an investigative reporter would be interested in doing a story about me, or covering a party. It’s a waste of your time, not to mention your talent. So my question is what are you really after?”

Any further pretense at innocence was futile, Lauren realized. She weighed the situation. There really was no reason to believe Logan Armstrong was involved in the business at the port, but at the same time, you couldn’t vouch for anyone. With carefully chosen words she finally responded, “There’s more going on in this country than meets the eye, Logan. As an investigative reporter, my job is to find out as much as I can by whatever means I can. Every bit of information counts, no matter how insignificant it may seem on the surface. It’s just a matter of time before you find what you’re looking for. I can’t disclose what I’m looking for. I can only tell you I intend to find it.”

Logan was unable to mask his disconcertion. Before he could recover his equanimity, she took aim. “Now I have a question for
you
,” she said. “Why are you so interested in the McGuire case? Seeing you claim not to have known the McGuires well, I find your interest in their murders unusual. So what are
you
after, Mr. Armstrong.

NINE

Restless and sleepless, Virginia followed the trail of a firefly as it darted up the wall and across the ceiling, its pulsating glow marking its nocturnal journey around the bedroom. She was bone tired after the party, but sleep nevertheless evaded her. The party had eventually come to an end after 2:00 a.m. when the last guests, the die-hard party animals, had finally drifted off to their cars, their exuberant laughter and chatter ringing out in the stillness of the country night. She glanced sideways at Gordon who was already sleeping like a log. How she envied his ability to be out like a light no sooner than his head hit the pillow. He had always been like that. She turned and checked the clock knowing full well that was the worst thing to do when insomnia had her in its grip.

As much as she fought to close the door, thoughts of Mike kept coming at her, a profusion of images bringing back long-forgotten feelings that had been safely buried in the life with Gordon she had chosen. She wasn’t sorry she had made that choice. She had a caring husband, everything a woman could want, except what she’d had with Mike. But even as early as nineteen years old, she had been level headed enough to realize Mike could never be the man for her. His appetite for variety, even from a young age, was far too great to be confined by a monogamous relationship. The fact was, she mused, you couldn’t have it all. You were fooling yourself if you thought you could. Life was a trade-off. It was just a matter of deciding what was most important to you.

She closed her eyes and gazed into her inner night, Mike’s body drifting in and out of her consciousness. Now, he was on top of her once again, her fingers running down the contour of his back, his hardened buttocks rising and falling as he plunged into her, driving her to orgasm. Oh shit he was so good, she had forgotten. His full, sensual lips were now devouring hers, his tongue swirling around hers while his hands reached under her, pulling her to him as she groaned with every thrust. “Tell me you love it, baby,” he breathed in her ear as he started moving like a piston, her body bobbing like a rag doll under him. “I love it, I love it. Take me, take me,” she cried, hardly able to breath.

Cautiously, she turned and looked at Gordon. Certain he was in a deep sleep, she slipped her hand down to where she was now moist. Once again, her breath quickened as Mike looked into her eyes, reading her, playing her like a guitar until she sang. Then her body arched in spasms and she climaxed as if she would never stop.

She rolled over on her side, now relaxed as a leaf floating on the river. Her thoughts floated to her brother. He’d never settled back down after the divorce. She assumed he must date someone, but didn’t know whom. He kept that part of his life to himself, and him being in New York most of the time, she knew nothing about his personal life. Careful not to wake Gordon, she pulled the sheet around her thinking about her plan. Surprisingly, she had managed to twist Logan’s arm into staying on for brunch. Lauren hadn’t been quite as easy to coerce. Virginia had tried every method of persuasion, including expressing her concern over Lauren’s long drive back to the city alone at so late an hour. Even with that, Lauren hadn’t budged. It wasn’t until Virginia had suggested Island Daily News might want to do an article about the estate that Lauren’s reluctance to spend the night flew out the window. Virginia smiled. She could hardly wait until morning.

TEN

The face was so familiar it was almost startling. Sleepily, Lauren gazed at it. At first glance she had assumed it was Logan, but as she studied the portrait carefully, she came to the conclusion it must be Logan’s father. The elder Armstrong’s eyes were considerably darker than Logan’s and they did not hold as much warmth. Lauren got out of bed and drew closer to the portrait. The resemblance between father and son was remarkable. They had the same swarthy complexion, the same thick dark hair with traces of silver. Logan even had the same cleft in the chin.

Slipping on the robe Virginia had thoughtfully laid out for her the night before, she went over to the French doors and threw open the blinds. This room, which had been David Armstrong’s study, opened onto the verandah where she and Logan had sat talking the night before. Now with the sun up, Lauren had a clear view of the gardens merging almost seamlessly into lawns that swept towards the boundaries of the property. Beyond the property lines, miles of sugar cane fields stretched toward the low hills in the background. Vale Verde was one of several sugar cane plantations that had made the Armstrong fortune in the colonial days when sugar was king.

Lauren stood gazing out the window for a minute or two before she closed the blinds and went to shower and dress. What a stroke of good fortune Virginia’s invitation had been, she thought gleefully as she stepped into the shower.
The Artful Dodger
may have been able to give her the slip for the entire duration of his party, but he could not escape her now.

Gordon and Virginia had already started on coffee when she joined them in the breakfast nook. Completely engrossed in the Sunday crossword puzzle, Gordon was oblivious to her quiet entry until he heard Virginia bid her good morning. He tore his eyes away from the crossword and looked up, first with open-eyed surprise, then with displeasure.

Virginia quickly tried to smooth her husband’s ruffled feathers. “I’m sorry, Gordon, I completely forgot to tell you I’d invited Lauren to spend the night. She’s interested in doing an article about Vale Verde.”

Gordon summoned as much of his good breeding to the breakfast table as his fury would allow. He was livid with Virginia, in the first place for inviting the woman, and secondly for not telling him she had done so. Virginia invariably invited whom she pleased, but a bloody reporter invading his sanctuary on a Sunday morning? And they were now on a first-name basis as if they were friends? A strained greeting was on the tip of his tongue when Logan stepped into the room.

Lauren gasped in surprise. On seeing her, Logan nearly dropped the magazine he was clutching.

Gordon shoved his newspaper aside. “This morning is full of surprises,” he said with a questioning look at Logan.

“Nobody’s more surprised than me,” Logan retorted with an irritable edge to his voice.

If there had been any chance of learning anything from Gordon, Lauren now realized this was not to be. A flush of embarrassment came to her face as she realized he considered her an intrusion. It was obvious he had not been told she would be there, and neither had Logan. However, it was too late to reverse the course of events, so she had no choice but to make the best of it. She remained standing uncertainly until Logan took a few deliberate steps toward a chair and pulled it out for her. He seated himself beside her and promptly joined Gordon in his silence.

An excruciating five minutes went by before Gordon remarked to no one in particular, “I noticed there was nothing further about the McGuire incident in this morning’s paper.”

“There’s been nothing further to report,” Lauren quickly said.

Logan remained silent.

Virginia looked at him worriedly. “I read somewhere we have the highest murder rate in the world,” she declared in a desperate effort to start a conversation.

“I think South Africa has earned that distinction,” Logan corrected her.

“Really? Where did you get your information?”

A conversation about the rise in crime on the island ensued to which Lauren contributed very little. Still embarrassed by what had taken place, she was praying brunch would soon be served and over with so she could make her escape.

“Did you sleep well?” Virginia asked Lauren as they finally sat down to brunch on the veranda.

“Yes, very well, thank you.”

“I’m glad you did. I don’t sleep well in strange rooms myself.”

For the sake of something in response, Lauren said, “I was curious about the portrait in the room. The person has a striking resemblance to Logan.”

“That’s our father’s portrait,” Virginia explained, relieved that Lauren had opened up a topic of discussion.

Gordon, now somewhat thawed since the disruptive start to his day, added a few strokes of his own to the portrait as he popped the cork from a champagne bottle. “My father-in-law was quite a man. Whatever David Armstrong touched turned to gold.” Fending off Virginia’s attempts to interrupt he pressed on, “By the time David hit his mid-forties, his business acumen had become legendary throughout the island.”

“Like father like son?” Lauren murmured, noting Gordon, now on safe ground, had made a complete turn-around from the evening before when she had said she would like to learn about the family from him.

“Yes and no,” Gordon told her. “David was the beneficiary of a substantial inheritance. We’re talking about thousands of acres of prime agricultural land. Logan didn’t have those advantages. He pretty much started from scratch.”

Lauren was now all ears. During her interview with Logan, she had not learned why he had had to start from scratch. She was about to ask when Virginia thwarted her by swiftly taking the stage.

“That’s true, but Daddy would have done it, inheritance or not. Anyway, I don’t think farming was ever enough for him.”

“Don’t think anything was enough for our father,” Logan muttered under his breath.

“That’s not true,” Virginia objected. “Besides, you’re just like him, Logan.”

“How so?” Lauren asked with growing interest.

Logan groaned inwardly as Virginia rattled on, “Well, let’s put it this way. Despite his outward ease, our father had a tough streak and, they say, razor-sharp business sense. In that respect, Logan is a chip off the old block.” She gave Logan a surreptitious look as she continued, “Although my brother’s business sense didn’t become apparent until that time when…”

“You were much too young at the time to remember that,” Logan interrupted.

“I most certainly wasn’t, I was ten.”

“Well, it’s ancient history, so maybe you can skip that one. Don’t forget there’s a journalist in the house,” he added shooting Lauren a playful glance.

“I think Lauren would find it very interesting,” Virginia insisted with a mischievous smile. “Lauren, would you like to hear the story?”

Not waiting for an answer, Virginia quickly proceeded to give her mother’s account of the morning when the first piece of bad news concerning Logan had made its way from the office of the headmaster of a pricey boarding school in England to the breakfast table at Vale Verde. A storm passed over David Armstrong’s face as he read the letter written in the headmaster’s perfect hand.

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Armstrong,

It is with regret I write to inform you that your son, Logan, can no longer be part of the student body of Bishop’s College.

In his first year at Bishop’s, Logan has failed to meet our standard in every way. In addition to an abysmal academic performance, Logan has shown an alarming inability to conform to school principles, flaunting rules and displaying disruptive behaviour at every turn.

As you well know, Bishop’s College is dedicated to providing the finest academic experience and has maintained its reputation as an ideal school for students matriculating into the world of higher learning. We do not give up easily here at Bishop’s, but it has become apparent this is not the academic environment for your son. He needs a firmer hand than we seem able to offer.

Please feel free to call me to discuss this matter at your earliest convenience. You have my deepest regrets. I am as disappointed as you both must be.

Respectfully yours,
Charles Applebee

David threw the letter aside and glowered at Elizabeth across the table. “I take it you saw this?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth wrung her hands nervously, cringing at the explosion she knew was inevitable.