Paradise for a Sinner (27 page)

“Not anymore.”

He dressed quickly in the manager’s office, even packed the damned sheet, but the cab came in Samoan time at a very leisurely pace. At the airport, he explained that his ticket had been lost. The very flustered woman behind the counter repeated Winnie’s words. “Miss Green said you decided to stay and would not be in need your ticket. I am so sorry, but we gave it to the first standby passenger, and they have already boarded. We can put you on tomorrow’s flight.”

“How about removing that standby’s ass from my seat because I need it?”

“Oh, oh, we can’t do that. The door is closed on the aircraft. I am so sorry about this misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, so am I.” No sense in taking out his frustration on a woman just doing her job.

Adam moved to the window overlooking the runway and watched Winnie’s plane taxi away from the gate. He wondered if she could see him standing there through those tiny windows. Not wanting to see Samoa again, she probably had her shade drawn against the burning tropical sun and any view of him.

****

Having no desire to watch Tutuila island shrink into the vast Pacific, Winnie drew down the window shade. At least, she traveled home in style with a spacious seat that would recline into a comfy bed for sleeping on the long journey—if only the man sitting next to her would simply shut up and leave her alone. He’d already asked her name, pressed his business card into her hand, and expressed his happiness at securing a last minute seat and such a lovely woman to sit next to him. Lovely, a word Adam used so often when describing her. She had no desire to hear it on this man’s lips, this Dexter Sykes, photographer.

Shorter than she and going soft through the middle, Sykes wore his thinning brown hair combed back over a small bald spot and regarded her with round, brown eyes that except for being bloodshot held some puppy dog appeal. Nana would have used the term “hound dog” eyes. You stay away from those hound dog kind of men, you hear me Winnie? Time to start listening to Nana again.

Still, Sykes examined her rather shrewdly. “Yes, I just completed a big swimsuit assignment on Ta’u Island. Great beaches, beautiful babes, but, oh brother, all that rain delayed my departure by days. Missed my flight from the ends of the earth. Really deserted over there. You ever do any modeling? You look familiar.”

“No, I’m only a nurse. I was visiting with a friend and helped out at a clinic for a few days. Now I’m on my way back to New Orleans.” Enough said.

“Me, too! I have a studio there. You got the bones for modeling. Good hair and eyes, kind of an exotic look about you. Exotic sells. You ever want a portfolio taken, I’m your man.”

“I don’t think so, thanks.” Winnie immersed herself in the flight magazine crossword.

A couple hours into the journey, the attendants served a hot meal in first class. Winnie selected the fish. Sykes dug into a very small steak and seemed compelled to engage in dinner conversation.

“Poor suckers back there in tourist class only get sandwiches, dry ones. I’ve gone that route often enough, but I’m doing real well financially. Why, you ask?”

Winnie hadn’t asked. She held up her cup for a refill of white wine.

“Because I got luck. I’m always in the right place at the right time. I mean the gig to go to Samoa and do a photo shoot paid, but when I get stranded in Pago Pago on my way back, the Adam Malala business boils up, one of the Sinners players accused of murder. Hot damn! I had time to kill so I staked out the courthouse and got the money shot of him coming out the door with some island honey. You follow football?”

“Not much.” Winnie concentrated on her meal and hoped with her hair held back by a colorful scarf and wearing white slacks and a tailored blouse she bore no resemblance to the frizzy-headed “honey” in the soiled lava-lava.

“You gotta know Adam Malala. He has all that hair. Wish I did.”

“Yes, he’s done some commercials.”

“Right! For a coconut cream rinse and shampoo. You think he was really guilty? I mean that story about death by coconut is pretty thin.”

“I understand such things happen. I do believe he is innocent.”

“Remember the Connor Riley/Stevie Dowd business back a few years? I took that shot right after he sacked her on the football field. Those two really moved my career along. Confidentially, I slept with Stevie before Connor came along. We used to be partners.”

“Really?” The Stevie Riley she’d met long ago at Mintay’s wedding now had two cute little children and a handsome ex-Sinner husband—who would probably like to rip this guy’s head off and run it in for a touchdown for saying those words. Or, Stevie might do it herself, she had that kind of attitude, one Winnie lacked.

Winnie’s eyes must have registered her disbelief because he quickly added, “I had more hair then and wasn’t quite so wide around the middle. How about you, Winnie? You with anyone?’

“Not anymore. Divorced, I mean.”

“Nothing wrong with that. How about I buy you breakfast or lunch or whatever when we get to Honolulu? Though, if you are sitting here in first class, nurses must be making some pretty good change these days.”

“My friend paid for the ticket. Look, in Honolulu I have to arrange the rest of my trip back to New Orleans. This fare only takes me to Hawaii. I guess we were going to stay over a few days, but I want to go directly home. I don’t have time for fancy dining.”

“Not fancy, just breakfast, maybe in the terminal. I figure I’m sitting in this friend’s seat. You break up with some undeserving guy?” The hound dog had picked up the scent.

“Let’s just say he went back to his old girlfriend and leave it at that.”

“Vacation breakups are the pits,” he said, deeply sympathetic.

The steward came to take their trays and hand out headsets for a movie. Winnie took the offer gladly and after that accepted a blanket and pillow to curl into with her face turned toward the window. The next thing she knew, hot facial towels to refresh her after the long flight were being handed around. After landing, she managed to outdistance Dexter Sykes with her longer legs, but he came up behind her in the ticket line.

“What do you say I treat us to first class all the way back to New Orleans?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t accept that.”

“Okay, for the pleasure of your company I’ll ride in the back with the rest of the cattle.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Come on, you can tell me all your troubles. How about some eggs and bacon? I can tell you I am tired of corned beef and taro.”

Because Dex would only follow, she submitted to a breakfast where the eggs came with little purple orchids as garnish and tall glasses of pineapple juice filled in for orange. He insisted on buying her a lei, prepackaged, inspected, and sealed to take out of the country to cheer her up.

“Was your breakup bad, honey?”

“No, just sudden, unexpected. I really do not want to talk about it.”

They caught their late flight to L.A., another overnighter, then a layover in that city where the photographer asked her to pose with her lei on by a clump of small palms outside the hotel where they stayed overnight. No harm in that. She left the lei for the maid after he tried to talk himself into her room that evening. Oh God, another three hours of Sykes tomorrow before she got to New Orleans. She placed a call to her sister and asked for a ride to her house. If anyone could scare off a pesky photographer, that would be the Rev.

Sykes dogged her all the way to the luggage pickup at Louis Armstrong International Airport where the Rev waited, black and as mountainous as the place where Moses wrote the Ten Commandments. His clerical collar dug into his neck like a choke chain on a pit bull holding him back from violence, but he said in his deep, ministerial voice, “Are you following my sister-in-law?”

Dex snapped his fingers. “I know you! Rev Bullock. I used to do some sports photography at the Sinners’ games.”

“And I know you, Mr. Sykes. You are the man who took immoral pictures of my friend, Stevie Dowd, and had them published.” His big eyes rolled toward Sykes’ camera bag.

“No immoral pictures in here. No, sir. Simply a pleasure to have Miss Winnie’s company as we traveled. Got some calls to make. Have to run.” With a cell phone plastered against his ear, Dexter Sykes trotted off so fast his rolling luggage tipped over in his haste. He dragged it several feet before pausing to settle it on its wheels again.

Winnie exhaled. “Thank you for getting rid of him.”

“Oh, baby sis, I don’t think we did you any favors. Now Dex knows you are related to us. I figure he is adding up all the numbers right now in his head, and they aren’t going to come out in our favor,” Mintay said.

“Let’s get on home.” The Rev seized both her bags and led their group to the black Escalade with the cross on the rear. He did not ask about Adam for quite a few miles, just let her babble about her big adventure, how she bought souvenirs for everyone, and had probably put on ten pounds eating Samoan cuisine.

“No, you look wonderful, all tan and healthy,” Mintay claimed, obviously pretending not to notice the signs of stress. She’d chosen to sit in the backseat with Winnie and let her husband be their chauffeur.

The question had to be asked. “Exactly why did Adam let you travel all this way alone when lowdown dawgs like Dexter Sykes could get after you?” the Rev asked. “Your face was all over the internet when you came out of the courthouse with him. The least he could do is see you home and protect you from paparazzi.”

“Oh, he did protect me in Samoa. It’s just that he decided to stay and marry his virgin. Well, I guess she isn’t anymore. I found her in his bed. I mean who wouldn’t prefer a beautiful young woman like that over me? Second best again. Please don’t tell anyone I’m back yet, not Nell or Joe. I need a few days to get over this.” More like forever, she thought.

Then the tears came. The three of them could have floated all the rest of the way to Versailles, the gated community where the Rev and Mintay lived in a substantial home beside the golf course fairway. Her brother-in-law stopped at the guardhouse and rolled down the window.

“Anything I can do for you, Reverend Bullock?” the white-haired security man asked as he raised the barrier.

“Yes, put the name Adam Malala on my no entry list.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Adam accepted he wouldn’t catch up with Winnie on the road, but he knew where to find her. He did his layover in Hawaii and took care of his business there. Then, he took a night flight to L.A., a day flight to Dallas, and right on to the Lafayette airport, the nearest one to Winnie. He handled the whole affair as if he were on the football field picking out his target to tackle, taking the most direct route with the most wallop at the end. Just before his plane left for Louisiana, he placed a call to Joe Dean asking for a ride and a place to stay. No problem. Now, Winnie remained his only concern.

****

Joe Dean put his phone aside. He dipped the edge of the second of his grilled cheese sandwiches into the last of a bowl of tomato soup and bit off the corner. Sitting next to him at the kitchen table with a smaller version of the same meal, Nell asked, “Who called?”

“Oh, Adam, back from Samoa. He wants a lift from the airport. I guess he plans on staying with us again.”

Nell stifled a small sigh. “Doesn’t he have a place in New Orleans?”

“Sure. Maybe he likes our company or wants to lie low after that mess in his hometown. I won’t blame him for not wanting to stay in the islands longer. He can have the same cabin. Maybe he’ll roast another pig for us.”

“We don’t need another roast pig. We need some time to ourselves. Thanks for making lunch. It’s nice to come home from the clinic and have a meal waiting.”

“I know the way to a woman’s heart.”

“More than one. When do you have to pick up him and Winnie?”

“Hour and a half. Doesn’t matter if I’m a little late getting there.”

Joe polished off his second glass of milk and got up to fill a mug with coffee from the pot on the counter. He palmed a handful of some kind of healthy cookie that didn’t taste too bad from the jar and offered one to his wife. She looked directly into his deep brown eyes as she accepted it. They’d been married long enough it seemed they really could read each other’s thoughts or at least their desires.

Corazon shopping for groceries, Knox doing something around the ranch, the discreet Brinsley polishing their rarely used silver service in the dining room, Nurse Wickersham taking one of her vigorous constitutionals around the property, and all the kids in school—they had a good hour to go upstairs together before leaving for the airport. In this family, you had to be quick. Joe took Nell’s hand.

The van pulled up chock-full of Winn-Dixie bags to haul inside. The ever useful Brinsley appeared in the kitchen to help. Knox materialized at the door with the first armload of sacks, and Corazon’s round figure rolled into the room waving a tabloid. “You must see this. Everyone must see!”

She spread the paper on the kitchen table. The same photo of Adam and Winnie leaving the courthouse they’d already seen on the internet filled the left hand side, but the headline read, “Malala Cleared of Murder. Coconut Conked Rival.”

“Sure, same as before only now he is innocent which we all believed anyhow,” Joe said, unimpressed.

“No, no! At the bottom. You see what he did to our Nurse Winnie.”

An inset showed Winnie decked out in a lei, backed by palm trees, and captioned as “Malala’s Jilted Island Honey.” Nurse Wickersham entered and asked what was going on.

Nell held up her hand. “Let me read it aloud.”

“She stood by her man, but Adam chose another. Malala’s island companion has now been identified as Winnie Green, a divorced nurse from New Orleans and sister-in-law of retired NFL player, Revelation Bullock. Returning to the mainland alone, Green revealed to our informant that Sinners’ cornerback Malala chose to reclaim his former fiancée believed to be the cause of a deadly quarrel resulting in the death of Sammy Tau. When a witness to Tau’s unfortunate accident came forward, Malala was released from custody only to reaffirm his wedding in May and hand Green a plane ticket home. ‘I do believe he is innocent,’ the faithful and lovely Miss Green said.”