McCloud's Woman (41 page)

She laughed, a melodious laugh that struck him in so many
places, he couldn’t think straight. Reckless urges swept through him,
but he didn’t dare act on any of them. Nothing had been settled between
them, might never be settled, and he damned well wouldn’t try in front
of an audience. Still, he couldn’t resist brushing his grimy finger
under her hat brim and lifting it to see her better. The look in her
eyes knocked the breath out of him.

“I honestly don’t know,” she admitted, sounding as
breathless as he felt. “I’m trying it on for size, looking for what
fits. Do you like it?”

“You don’t want to hear my reply in front of company. I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

She beamed up at him, understanding his growl better than
he did. “Chasing me off, McCloud? I won’t go. What are you doing here?”

Patsy Amara Simonetti had the staying power of a snapping
turtle when she applied her mind to it. A thrill shot straight to his
groin, but TJ covered it with practicalities. “Digging up the remains of
two German soldiers.” Clasping her hand firmly in his, he led her away
from the excavation.

Surprise and alarm crossed her expressive features as she
glanced back to the contents of the canvas spread across the sand. “Have
you called the mayor yet?”

“The mayor?” Cleo eased closer now that they’d left personal topics for one of interest to her.

TJ watched Mara glance uneasily at the crowd closing in.
“You found something at the courthouse,” he said for her, drawing her
closer so he could feel the life pulsing through her and know she was
safe and sound.

She nodded. “Sort of. I had a bit of a tiff with the mayor
outside the courthouse, and went back in to dig around some more. I
think you’d better call him.” She rummaged through her purse and
produced her cell phone, handing it to TJ.

He glanced at Cleo and Jared. Jared had given up trying to
help and sat on the beach, shirt off, barefooted, sketching a design in
the wet sand—a design remarkably like a U-boat. His artistic brother
might not be much of a history buff, but he listened when people talked.
He knew what was happening here.

Cleo stood near him, watching everything and everyone,
poised like a deer to flee at the slightest danger. Both of them watched
TJ with expectation.

“I can’t hide it, Cleo,” he apologized in advance. “No
matter who they were or what they represented, there are two men down
there. Their families deserve to know what happened, and they deserve a
proper burial. I can’t judge their politics or beliefs, just their
remains.”

“It’s the living I worry about,” Cleo replied, “but you’re right, it does no good to cover up the truth. Call him.”

A buzz murmured through the crowd of townsfolk and movie
crew. Word had spread rapidly that morning after Ed had poked into the
hole blown loose by the grenade. The bones sticking out of the edge of
the crater had sent Ed scurrying to Jared and Cleo.

After he’d called all his bar cronies, the news had spread
by osmosis. Realizing the grenade had uncovered the remainder of the
skeletons he’d been searching for in the dune, TJ had set up the
excavation. One of Mara’s cameramen was recording the event, even though
he had no idea what was going on.

“Don’t bother about the call, TJ,” Mara said softly,
glancing in the direction of the demolished dune. “The mayor’s here,
with his mother.”

“You want to tell me what this is all about before I say something I shouldn’t?” he muttered for her ears alone.

“I can only guess, and my imagination may be more vivid
than reality.” She stepped closer, so they could talk softly. “I’d heard
the mayor’s father was German and that he’d bought a lot of land in
town. I checked some of the deeds to property the mayor’s family owns,
and much of it was purchased in the early days of the war in the name of
Schmidt. Then I checked the records office. The mayor’s father changed
his name from Schmidt to his wife’s maiden name of Bridgeton during the
war. The mayor’s mother is the one with the old local origins.”

Hastily pulling on the shirt he’d doffed earlier but not
taking time to button it, TJ regarded the frail elderly woman in summer
white heels, flowered dress, and blue-white hair approaching, and didn’t
want to be here for this. “Couldn’t we just slip down the beach and let
this play out without us?”

Mara dug her fingers into his filthy arm. “I’m going to
teach you to hang around instead of running off, Timothy John. This has
the makings of a wonderful story. I hope there’s a romance in it. I’ve
got this idea for a screenplay...”

TJ rolled his eyes and remained planted where she held
him. Having an anchor keeping him on an even keel was a new and not
entirely unpleasant sensation.

The mayor and his mother gazed in dismay at the skeletons
carefully laid out on tarps from TJ’s gear. He’d boxed the bits of
buttons and shoes and other grisly remnants that made the skeletons come
alive, but his curiosity hadn’t allowed him to hide the bones. He’d
wanted to know that he had them all. The intellectual challenge had
overcome his grasp of human nature, as usual. He’d been working this
damned job too long.

The mayor shot TJ and Mara a weary, angry look. “You
couldn’t leave it alone, could you? What good does it do to dig up a
sixty-year old story?”

“Are you the one who trashed my office and the dig and
left those messages?” TJ asked in incredulity, remembering the cut
fences and the vandal running for a motorboat on the other side of the
jetty. Surely the mayor was too old for those antics.

“I left the messages,” Mrs. Bridgeton said defiantly. “You
had no right to unearth the dead or harm my family with something of no
concern to you.”

“It was a U-boat, just like I told you,” Ed shouted
jubilantly. “I’m not crazy. They landed right here, got themselves
killed. Your daddy wasn’t a half-bad sort for all his highfalutin’ ways.
He knew they was coming, didn’t he? I knew he came out here for more
than hunting. He’s a war hero!”

The mayor blinked in disbelief at this take on things, but
the murmurs of excitement rumbling through the crowd caused him to look
around and take stock before speaking.

“I vote we go back to the house and break out the cold
drinks,” Jared shouted, jumping to his feet and catching Cleo’s arm.
“It’s not every day we get to toast a hero.”

TJ gave his brother credit for knowing how to woo an
audience without even trying. The crowd cheered at the promise of free
drinks—even the nonalcoholic kind. Less apt to engage in unwarranted
enthusiasm, Clay hung back, helping TJ cover the remains while the
others traipsed to the house, chattering excitedly.

“Come along, Mayor, Mrs. Bridgeton.” Mara took their arms
and led them toward the boardwalk rather than the shortcut through the
demolished dune that the others were taking. “Tell me the story, and
I’ll get my people to put the right spin on it.”

With the skeletons protected against tide and scavengers,
Clay fell into step beside TJ, dragging up the rear behind Mara and her
captives. “You said those guys were shot,” he whispered. “Did the lady
do it?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past women,” TJ grumbled, “but I don’t imagine this one did. My money is on the mayor’s daddy.”

“So, why keep it a secret all these years? He’s a hero,
saving the country from Germans during wartime. I didn’t even know
Germans landed in this country.”

“According to the books Ed gave me, the Germans trained
crews of kids who’d been raised or schooled in the U.S. but were loyal
to the German cause. If you want to believe those books, the Germans
manned some of their U-boats with guns and money and English-speaking
crews. They dropped operatives loose up and down the coast. They hoped
to blend with the crowds and blow up centers of transportation like
Grand Central Station, causing chaos—except some got caught by observant
citizens and ratted on the others.”

Clay whistled. “So if those are Nazi bones back there,
they could have been terrorists. What the devil would they blow up out
here?”

TJ shrugged. “Parris Island? It’s a huge training camp
today, and I suppose it might have been one back then, too. But if
that’s what they are, I don’t know how they figured to blend in here in a
rural area where everyone knows everyone.”

They reached the benched lookout area of the boardwalk
where Mara assisted Mrs. Bridgeton in taking a seat. TJ admired the way
she handled the obviously nervous mayor and his mother, smoothing the
way with words and smiles and promises. He couldn’t do that in a million
years.

He didn’t think the shy teenager he’d once known could
have either. Mara had come a long way since those days. She didn’t need
him anymore. He couldn’t imagine how he could ask her to stay. What
could he offer that she could possibly want?

“Clay, fetch some drinks from the house and let Mrs.
Bridgeton catch her breath,” Mara ordered. “Tell the others we’ll be
right up.”

Clay cocked an eyebrow at the command, but with an insouciant swagger, he strode up the boardwalk toward the main house.

“I could never get Clay to do anything I told him,” TJ
commented, wiping his face with a handkerchief and wishing he’d thrown
himself in the ocean while he had the chance. His shirt was sticking to
his back.

“That’s because you never expected him to listen,” Mara whispered back.

“My husband did what he thought right.” Mrs. Bridgeton intruded with the bluntness of the old and privileged.

“Now, Mama, you don’t have to say anything. This isn’t a
courtroom, and everyone concerned is long dead.” The rotund mayor pulled
out his handkerchief and nervously mopped his neck.

TJ leaned against the railing, crossed his arms, and
watched a pelican circling the cottage. “He knew the U-boat was landing,
so he must have known someone on it,” he concluded aloud.

“His cousin,” Mrs. Bridgeton declared stoutly. “Frederich
wanted no part of it, but his cousin came anyway. They’d gone to school
together. They were a close family. But Frederich married me and didn’t
want to go back to Germany.”

Mara curled her cool fingers around TJ’s grimy arm, and he
realized how tense he was. He relaxed and inhaled her fresh jasmine
scent.

“So the boat landed, unloaded two spies, one of them the
cousin, and your husband met them.” The Germans would have been executed
had they been caught, as most of the other U-boat commandos had been.
Some had just spent a great deal of time in prison though, their lives
spared by incompetence or family connections or for giving evidence
against their comrades. These men weren’t offered the opportunity.

“He shot them,” Mrs. Bridgeton whispered. “His cousin
wanted him to bring them into town, introduce them as part of the
family, take them to the military base to show them around. Frederich
couldn’t do it.”

TJ didn’t comment but looked at the mayor, waiting for the
rest of the story. There had been a great deal of money in the hands of
the other terrorists arrested. They hadn’t planned on starving while on
these expeditions.

The mayor loosened his tie. “I was just a kid. I thought
my daddy was a hero, and I wanted to help him fight Germans. I heard him
arguing with Mama, and I sneaked out to follow him. I was big enough to
row out here on my own.”

Clay clattered back over the boardwalk bearing buckets of ice and cold drinks. “Water, soft drink, or lemonade?”

“Water will be fine, dear. Thank you very much. Dear Cleo
is fortunate to have such a wonderful family.” Mrs. Bridgeton, aka
Schmidt, didn’t look at TJ as she said that.

“Am I supposed to go to my room now and let the adults talk?” Clay asked when the silence lengthened.

“That would be nice,” TJ agreed solemnly. Clay would be
easing up on thirty by now, so TJ supposed he’d have to stop thinking of
him as his baby brother, but the urge to harass didn’t go away.

Mara swatted TJ with her hat, then pointed at a bench in
the corner. Clay dropped to the seat and swigged his soft drink, leaning
his elbows back on the rail and watching as if they were a TV show.

“Did you arrive in time?” TJ asked the mayor, keeping an
eye on the crowd milling in Jared’s yard, knowing the curious wouldn’t
stay away much longer.

“He was digging the grave by the time I got there. The
island was larger then. That area was covered in oaks. The beach has
moved over the years, and hurricanes have swept away the trees. I
couldn’t have found the place again had I wanted.”

TJ nodded and sipped from his bottle. When neither the
mayor nor his mother continued, he pried a little deeper. “Did you let
him know you were there?”

The mayor shrugged uncomfortably. “I was a kid and
terrified of my father. That’s the way things were back then. I knew
they were Germans. I’d heard the shots. But the sight...” He broke off
and stared into the distance. “I was glad I didn’t have to go off to
war. I ran back to my rowboat and rowed home to Mama. I heard them
arguing later that night.”

“Frederich kept their money,” Mrs. Bridgeton answered
before TJ could ask. “I don’t know where he hid it, never knew how much
it was. But every so often, when he discovered a piece of land for sale,
he invested some of it. I imagine the money was all gone by the time he
died.”

She fumbled in her handbag and produced a little black
book crumbling around the edges. She handed it to TJ, but Clay was
instantly on his feet, looking over TJ’s shoulder.

“I don’t speak German, but I think the letters in there
are probably abbreviations of German words. I can’t make head nor tail
of them, never could. But I can read dollar signs. Frederich had it on
him the day he died.”

Mara leaned against TJ’s arm and traced her fingers over the fragile pages. “Lists of land he bought?” she suggested.

The mayor cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “I
apologize for the trouble I’ve caused you. If you still need the office,
my rental company will renew your lease. I will admit I encouraged a
few overeager hoodlums by telling them there might be pirate gold in
hopes they’d scare you off. I didn’t want my father’s action to become
public knowledge, and I thought keeping it secret was in my family’s
best interest. I can see now that it’s better not to hide the truth.
Mother and I have talked about it, and we’ve decided to donate the
proceeds of the sale of the remaining land to a public park out here. It
seems the only fitting thing to do.”