Paperwhite Narcissus (20 page)

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Authors: Cynthia Riggs

BOOK: Paperwhite Narcissus
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“Twenty-pound test,” said Tom. “Gently, Colley.” He played the line as if Colley were a large fish on a much too light line.
Matt had retrieved the end of the rope Colley had failed to grab. “Sould I attach the rope to the line?”
“You know knots?” said Tom.
“Yup.”
“Quick, then. Hope to hell Colley has some sense of self-preservation.”
They could see Colley struggle to keep his head above water.
“He’s weakening,” said Botts.
Colley had been pitched out of the Jeep, tossed about in the channel, and tumbled in the surf. The current had carried him off to one side, but he was moving away from shore.
“Pull, Colley, pull!” Tom shouted.
The rope attached to the light line spun out with Colley as he was carried out. He seemed to understand what he had to do because he pulled, hand over hand, on the filament line that now had the rope attached. The surf dunked him again and again. He emerged each time, gasping and tugging on the light line.
“Atta boy!” shouted Tom, as though Colley could hear. “Pull, Colley! Pull!”
Hand over hand as his head dipped under a breaker and emerged again, Colley pulled the rope toward him. Victoria saw him reach the rope, then struggle to wrap it around himself.
Tom dropped the rod onto the sand, and he, Matt, and Botts, hauled in.
“Smooth rhythm,” Tom shouted. “Don’t jerk it, or we’ll lose him.”
Colley had been swept to the far side of the channel. The three maneuvered him back through the rip at the mouth of the cut. When Colley was close to shore, seaward of the line of breakers, Tom tossed off his hat, kicked off his shoes, and waded into the surf. The breakers lifted Colley high on their crests, then rolled him down and under and slammed him onto the sand and pebble floor. Botts and Matt still held the rope that was wrapped around Colley. Tom was waist deep in water, but each breaking wave lifted him off his feet and dropped him again. He landed on his feet, but Colley was as limp as the half-body Tom and Simon Newkirk had fished out of the surf, was it three weeks ago?
Colley rose to the crest of a breaking wave and Tom seized the front of his windbreaker, now torn and ragged, and struggled to the beach. Botts and Matt kept tension on the rope until they, too, waded into the surf and brought Colley onto the beach and dropped him onto the sand.
Victoria was waiting just above the swash line. “Is he alive?”
Tom shook his head. “I can’t tell.”
“He must have swallowed a great deal of seawater,” Victoria said. “We’ve got to get it out of him, quickly.” She knelt by his head. “Can you hear me, Colley?”
He lay on his stomach, arms over his head. The rope was still wrapped around his shoulders and waist. Coils and snarls of rope lay in a tangled heap on the sand where it had been dropped.
Colley’s eyelids fluttered and his mouth moved.
“He’s alive.” Victoria looked up with relief. “He’s going to throw up. Can you elevate his feet?”
All three men were soaking wet. Tom was barefoot and shivering. Botts breathed gently on his hands. Matt untangled the
coils of rope that Colley had wrapped around himself. They hauled him away from the water by his feet, and Colley vomited up what seemed like gallons of seawater.
“Thank God,” said Tom. “I was afraid I was pulling another body out of the surf.”
“We’ve got to get him back to civilization,” Victoria said.
“I’ve got beach towels in the car,” Tom said, teeth chattering. “Bundle him up.”
They stood Colley up, and, one man on either side, dragged him, on legs that didn’t work, to the SUV. Victoria toweled him as dry as she could, then wrapped the towels around him. They lifted him into the backseat, where he slumped with Botts on one side. Matt gathered up the tangle of rope, dumped it into the back, then sat on the other side of Colley.
Tom started up the SUV, turned on the heater full blast, and retraced the route along the beach back to Katama.
“There’s a vehicle coming this way,” Matt said.
“Who in hell … ?” said Tom.
“It’s the police Bronco,” said Victoria. “Casey got my message.”
Casey and Junior Norton pulled alongside. Casey ignored Tom and glared at Victoria. “What do you think you’re doing, Victoria? Are you out of your mind? The cops have signs all over the place telling idiots like you guys to keep off the beach.” She waved her arm behind her. “Can’t you ever do what you’re supposed to do? The bar’s going to break through, like tonight.”
“It did,” said Victoria.
Casey took a deep breath. “Lord, Victoria. Who’s with you. Are you okay?”
“We need to take Colley to the hospital,” Victoria said softly.
“What happened?” Casey asked, anger gone.
Tom looked in the rear-view mirror at the men in the back seat. “Colley would be dead, Chief, if it weren’t for your deputy here. Drowned.”
“How can I help? Escort you to the hospital?”
Tom said, “He may be better off in his own bed with some hot chocolate.”
Colley murmured something.
“What did he say?” Victoria turned around to look.
Botts grinned. “He said ‘whiskey.’”
They carried Colley home to South Water Street. The light beside the front door was still on; otherwise, the house was dark. Tom knocked with the whale-shaped doorknocker and when there was no response, pounded with his fists. Finally, an upstairs light went on, then a downstairs light, and Calpurnia opened the door a crack.
Her hair was tousled and a terry-cloth robe was thrown over her shoulders. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Colley’s had an accident,” Tom said. “He’s okay,” he added quickly.
“What time is it?”
“Almost two.”
Calpurnia opened the door wider. “What happened? Where is he?”
“He’s in the car. We’ll bring him in.”
“What’s he done now?”
“He was driving to Chappy and the bay broke through. He’s wet and exhausted and he needs a drink.”
“Naturally.” Calpurnia smiled faintly. “Who else is in the car with him?”
“Victoria Trumbull, William Botts, and Matt Pease.”
“The photographer?” she said. “Well. That’s ironic.” She opened the door all the way. “Better bring Colley inside.”
Colley’s legs almost worked. Matt and Botts supported him up the front steps and into the front parlor and sat him in one of the wing chairs that flanked the fireplace. Victoria followed.
Calpurnia lighted the fire, which was already laid, then turned to Colley, hands on her hips.
“What were you thinking of? What on earth were you doing there?”
Colley shook his head.
The fire crackled and blazed up.
“He’s had a difficult time,” Victoria said. “He needs dry clothes and a blanket, not a scolding.”
“It was Mrs. Trumbull who saved him,” Botts said from the back of the room, where he’d located the bar.
“I’m not sure he’s worth saving.” Calpurnia’s hands were still on her hips. “You left the house before nine. Why were you driving the beach route? The ferry runs until eleven, as you well know.”
Colley shook his head slowly.
Botts said, “He takes scotch, doesn’t he?”
“Anything alcoholic,” said Calpurnia. “Give me a straight bourbon, while you’re at it. And whatever the rest of you want.”
Victoria sat in the wing chair across from Colley. Botts handed Colley a tumbler of scotch, which he took and gulped.
Calpurnia left the room and returned several minutes later with her hair combed, wearing a purple-and-blue dressing gown. She carried a flannel shirt and a blanket, and wrapped them, none too tenderly, around Colley.
Colley said nothing.
Calpurnia perched on the arm of the couch at right angles to Colley’s chair and crossed her legs and her arms. “You must be out of your mind. What a weird coincidence that you were at that spot just at that moment.”
Tom was coming out of the kitchen with a bottle of Sam Adams for himself and a glass of cranberry juice for Victoria. “Actually, he triggered the break when he drove onto that unstable sand. All it needed was a catalyst and Colley was it.”
The color was returning to Colley’s face. He pulled the blanket around himself.
The fire snapped. A log settled. Sparks flew up.
Victoria half-closed her eyes. “Were you supposed to meet someone on Chappaquiddick tonight, Colley?”
Colley muttered something Victoria didn’t understand.
“At Dike Bridge?” Victoria persisted.
“Dike Bridge,” said Calpurnia. “
That
figures.”
Colley had been staring into his drink glass. He said nothing.
“It’s fortunate you got stopped by the break and even more fortunate that we were there.”
Colley murmured, “On the spot.”
Tom said, “You’re still alive, Colley, thanks to Victoria.”
Colley turned his head.
“Who asked you to meet them at the bridge?” Victoria persisted.
Colley moved his head from side to side.
Tom yawned. “He needs to get some rest, Victoria. So do we all.”
“I don’t think we should leave Colley alone,” said Victoria.
Calpurnia smiled.
Victoria said, “I think someone should stay with him tonight.”
“Calpurnia’s here,” said Tom.
 
Hours later, Calpurnia was alone in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of iced tea. Colley was still upstairs. Calpurnia was about to take the tea and her book into the back garden when the phone rang. When she heard Audrey Fieldstone’s voice, Calpurnia almost slammed the phone down.
“Don’t hang up,” Audrey said loudly. “We’ve got to talk.”
Calpurnia sat down at the kitchen table with the phone against her ear. “If it’s about the money, you’ll have to talk to Colley, not me. Your goons are welcome to go after him.”
Audrey laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, darling? Once I set my ‘goons’ on your husband, your worries are over, aren’t they?”
Calpurnia could hear a slight clicking sound. She could picture
Audrey tapping her long red fingernails against the mouthpiece of the phone.
“How much do you inherit from the trust? Four million? Five? You won’t even miss the four hundred fifty thousand.”
“I’ve got to go,” said Calpurnia, pushing her chair away from the table and standing up.
“Don’t you dare hang up on me!”
“Oh?” said Calpurnia.
“If you do, you’ll regret it.”
“I regret everything I’ve ever had to do with you, Mrs. Fieldstone.”
“I’m going to the police.”
Calpurnia sat down again. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I? What makes you think I wouldn’t, darling?” The clicking continued.
“You know why.”
Audrey laughed. “You have more to lose than I do.”
“I think not,
Mrs.
Fieldstone,” said Calpurnia.
“You don’t need to use that snotty tone of voice.”
Calpurnia smiled into the phone. “Come now, Audrey. Someone named Butch, or Buddy, or something, has been making teensy weensy ripples.”
The clicking stopped. “Where did you hear that?”
Calpurnia laughed. “On the defensive, are we? We
do
live on an island, you know.” She held the phone away from her ear. “This connection is awful. Where are you calling from, overseas?”
“What about Buddy?”
“Buddy, is it? Where
are
you calling from?”
“Chappaquiddick. I’m on my cell phone.”
“I suppose that’s overseas. You’re there early, aren’t you?”
“What did you hear about Buddy?”
“You’re not supposed to be there until tomorrow,” said Calpurnia. “Maybe we should talk, after all.”
“I have some information on your husband’s latest sweetie.”
Calpurnia sighed. “I know all about his college girls.”
“This one is a lot older than me. Almost your age. Meet me at Dike Bridge.”
Calpurnia couldn’t help asking, “Who is she?”
“Got your attention, didn’t I darling? He met her on the Internet.”
“What are you talking about?” Calpurnia asked.
“You can give me a ride back to Edgartown and I’ll tell you all about her.”
“Why on earth would I want to do that? Get yourself back somehow and we can meet on the porch of the Harbor View. In plain sight.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” said Audrey. “
You’re
not afraid of
me
?” She laughed. “It should be the other way around.” She paused. “Calpurnia, you and I are in deep, deep doo-doo. The sooner we talk, the better. Meet me at the bridge.”
Calpurnia set her tea glass on a paper napkin on the counter. “I was in Al Fox’s office when his secretary discovered the body.”
“Congratulations.”
“Nice touch, Audrey. His toupee.”
“What do you mean?”
“I suppose you want me to meet you at the bridge at midnight?”
Audrey laughed. “The Chappy ferry doesn’t run after eleven. Come over now. Since I need a ride back to my car, I’m not likely to murder you until I’m back in Edgartown, am I? Besides, don’t you want to hear all about the Internet romance?”
“Colley’s still upstairs. He came home this morning around two, soaking wet.”
“Really? Out for a moonlight swim?”
“He had a rough night. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”
“Moi? He’s not my type. Besides, he doesn’t have two cents to rub together.”
“Butch the mechanic is your type, I gather.”
“Buddy, darling. Buddy doesn’t owe me four hundred fifty grand.” She laughed. “Besides, I’ve taken care of Buddy.”
“Really? Permanently, I suppose?”
“I rather hope so. Will you have to feed Colley breakfast and lunch before you leave?”
“What have you done about Buddy?”
“That’s my little secret, isn’t it? What about Colley?”
“I’ll leave him a note.”
“I haven’t had lunch yet myself,” said Audrey. “I’ll buy, once we get safely back to Edgartown.”
Calpurnia looked at her watch. “I’ll be there in a half-hour.”
“Make it an hour,” said Audrey. “I have to secure my boat,” and she hung up.
 
Calpurnia took her time getting ready. She found Colley’s car keys on top of the refrigerator, thought about leaving him a note, then didn’t.
She put down the top of his MG, backed out of the driveway onto South Water Street, drove around several blocks of one-way streets to get onto North Water Street, and turned onto the road that ended at the ferry dock. A car and an empty hay truck were ahead of her in the ferry line. She could see the small open ferry in the middle of the channel, crabbing its way across from Chappaquiddick to Edgartown. The current seemed unusually strong. Then she realized that now, with the bar breached, the tidal pattern would be different. Water from Nantucket Sound would pour through Edgartown Harbor and into Katama Bay, as it always did on a rising tide, but now the flow, or much of it, would continue into the Atlantic instead of returning to the sound.
The ferry swung into its slip. Captain Brad unhooked the chain and slipped the chocks out from under the tires of the first car, an SUV.
“Have a good day, Mr. Updike,” he said, slapping the hood of the SUV.
“Same to you, Cap’n.”
The captain beckoned the car, the hay truck, and the MG onto the ferry and headed for the Chappaquiddick side. He leaned out of the wheelhouse. “How’re you doing, Mrs. Jameson? A real classic you got there.” He blew the two-seater a kiss. “Wicked current today.”
Before Calpurnia had time to comment on the break in the bar, the ferry was nudging the wooden pilings of the slip on the Chappy side and she drove off.
She passed a couple on bicycles on the road. Two and a half miles farther on, the paved road made a sharp right turn and she continued straight ahead onto the unpaved road that led to Dike Bridge, another mile and a half.
As she passed the Japanese garden, she could see a few scattered rhododendrons in bloom, past their prime but still a splash of pink, white, and red showing through the pines.
The road ended at the bridge, which spanned a narrow, deep creek and led across to the barrier beach. She pulled off onto a sandy parking area to the left of the bridge. Ahead of her where the creek widened, the Trustees had erected a temporary floating dock. The only boat tied up at the floating dock was Audrey’s Chris-Craft. Two immaculate white fenders protected the varnished wood hull from chafing against the metal dock.
She looked around. The place was desolate even when people were around. Now it seemed deserted.
Where was Audrey?
A gull dived into the swift current that flowed under the bridge and lifted again on strong wings with a wriggling fish in its bill. Five or six other gulls attacked the first gull, screaming, and the gull dropped the fish.
On the other side of the bridge was a small shack, where, during the season, someone from the Trustees checked beach stickers. The door was closed now, and the window shuttered. Beyond the shack, low dunes hid the ocean from her view. Surf
on the other side of the dunes rumbled. Wind blew her hair into her face and flattened the shiny beach grass that covered the dunes.
Where was Audrey? No one seemed to be around.
Calpurnia suddenly felt chilled. She reached into the back of the MG for her sweater. She had decided this was not a place she wanted to be all by herself and was about to get back into the car and leave when she heard Audrey’s voice. She started.

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