Read The Island of Dangerous Dreams Online
Authors: Joan Lowery Nixon
Dinner was awful. Ellison wouldn’t go near the freezer so we ate whatever was left over in the refrigerator and pantry. His cooking had definitely gone from bad to worse. The atmosphere in the dining room was horrible too. Everyone was more angry that Kurt hadn’t made the swim for help than they were relieved that he hadn’t taken such a desperate chance. Suspicion was thicker than
Ellison’s gravy, and everyone shared the same, miserable mood.
“Nobody found the artifact?” My words came out more like a statement than a question.
Aunt Madelyn glowered at me. “You could have stayed to help search for it.”
“Yes,” Benita complained. “It was hard work. Why did you think you were excused?”
“Oh,” I said, and found I didn’t have an answer. “I didn’t think you really needed me to help.”
“We did. Kurt could have helped too.” Benita sighed. “We have searched the entire house, and I, for one, don’t know where else to look.”
Kurt put down his water glass. “I’m afraid we’re down to a personal search,” he said.
“That’s unthinkable,” Madelyn snapped.
“Is it? There are only two places the artifact could be—hidden in the house or on someone’s person.”
“But that’s an invasion of privacy,” Madelyn said.
“Maybe so, but it comes down to this—do you want the artifact or don’t you?”
Aldo stood up. “I think we should make it possible for Ellison to clear the table by moving this conversation to the living room.”
We followed him without question, each of us thinking over what Kurt had said.
I knew how Madelyn coveted that artifact, so I wasn’t too surprised when she said, “Very well, Kurt. I’ll accept your suggestion. Benita, Andrea, and I will conduct a search in my bedroom. I trust
the two of you to conduct your own personal search with the same honesty.”
“Of course,” Kurt said, looking puzzled that there could be any doubt.
We went upstairs, and through a few miserable moments of embarrassment, although the search was cursory. With the hot summer weather, neither Benita, Madelyn, nor I had enough on to hide the topaz.
So we filed downstairs and reported to Kurt and Aldo, who, naturally, hadn’t found the topaz either.
“I am completely befuddled,” Benita announced, which shouldn’t have been news to anyone.
Kurt’s forehead kept wrinkling and smoothing, wrinkling and smoothing, as a signal that he was trying to think things out. Finally he asked, “Any ideas?”
“Yes,” Madelyn said. “Let’s forget all about the artifact for now and play cards.” I could see that she was making an attempt to keep strong and steady, but there were deep lines and shadows around her eyes, and her fingers trembled.
Fortunately, a deck was found in the drawer of one of the end tables. I wondered if I should inform her that my knowledge of bridge was scanty. I didn’t have to worry about it. After one hand she knew, so I sat out and Aldo sat in. It was also obvious that if my bridge game was bad, Aldo’s was worse. We tried a couple of other games, even my wild suggestion of crazy eights, but gave up in exasperation.
Madelyn slammed the deck down on the table. “This is ridiculous!” she stated. “I should have let my instincts guide me and refused to come on this dreadful trip.”
I kept quiet, not wanting to add to her problems by reminding her that it was
my
instincts, not hers, that she had ignored.
“In the first place,” she went on, “Justin was being just too, too secretive, and I don’t appreciate being made to play his games. Why he wanted to include Norton I don’t know, unless it was just plain greed. It’s common knowledge that Franklin Granakee has had some dealings with people on the other side of the law. He certainly wasn’t particular where his fortune came from.”
“Come now,” Benita said. She drummed her fingertips on the table, and her voice was tight. “I just can’t believe that.”
“I’ve heard it from more than one source.”
“Gossip just doesn’t become you, Madelyn.”
Madelyn looked surprised. “It’s not gossip. We need to share any knowledge we have.”
Benita put her hands to her head. “I don’t want to talk about Norton. I keep remembering—”
But Madelyn wouldn’t give up. “Do you suppose that Justin knew Norton’s real identity? Remember his saying something about one of us sailing under false colors?”
I immediately thought about Kurt. Maybe he was the one the judge was referring to, thinking of Kurt’s double identity as a huge joke.
Then Madelyn surprised me by saying, “It’s also possible, Benita, that Justin could have been referring
to you. Who were you representing on the side? That dealer in Los Angeles perhaps?”
Benita tried to look surprised and wounded, but it didn’t work. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “No, it wasn’t Ableman’s, if that’s who you’re referring to. I’m not at liberty to divulge my client’s name. You can respect that, can’t you?”
“Did Justin think you were representing the gallery?”
“I hope so.” Her eyes suddenly became swarmy with tears, and she said, “You know as well as I do, Madelyn, that everything can’t be open and aboveboard in our business. I had a chance to make a huge commission, and I went for it, because I badly needed it. And then the way it turned out—nothing but bad luck.” She mopped at her eyes and went on. “I’m on a roll of bad luck. Two marriages gone sour, my new car repossessed, a lost commission …”
“Sorry,” Madelyn said, but she didn’t sound sorry. “Knowing you, Benita, I’m sure that you were desperate enough to do anything to get possession of that artifact.”
“Desperate. Yes, that’s the word for it.” She sighed, then abruptly realized what she had said and snapped, “Don’t try to trick me, Madelyn! I had nothing to do with those deaths, and I don’t know where in blazes that artifact is!”
Aldo yawned widely and stretched. “I’m going to bed,” he said, and got to his feet.
“I’m tired too,” Benita said. She fluttered upward and held out a hand to Madelyn. “I think we should all go up together.”
“Are you still frightened?” I asked her.
She looked a little embarrassed. “I admit I was upset at first, but seen in this new light I—well, I’m angry instead of frightened. We’ve all been badly used.”
“Especially the judge and Mr. Granakee,” I mumbled.
Aunt Madelyn, who had come to my side, poked me as a signal to watch what I said, so I meekly followed the others up the stairs to bed. With the lights off the living room was a dark, cavernous hole, and I had to convince myself that the room was empty, that the noises I heard were the natural noises of night, and nothing was creeping up the stairs behind me.
Outside my door Madelyn stopped and put a hand on my arm. “I keep thinking about your mother,” she said. “She’d be so upset with me for involving you in this situation.” I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“Mom wouldn’t blame you, Aunt Madelyn. How could you know what would happen?”
She didn’t seem to hear me. “I remember when you were born,” she murmured. “I was so excited that I cut class to stay at the hospital until your father came rushing out with the good news. You were a very special baby.” She smiled. “I guess I thought of you as so special because you’ve always been a carbon copy of your mother, and she—well, she was a wonderful big sister.”
Madelyn blinked a couple of times, as though coming back to the present, and I could almost see her backbone stiffen. “We’ll get you home safely,
Andrea,” she said firmly. “Don’t doubt it for a minute.”
She smiled, and I tried unsuccessfully to smile back. No matter how confident Madelyn sounded, I knew she was as frightened as I was.
From somewhere below us a tired board in the house popped, and I jumped and shuddered. Madelyn frowned in concern. “Would you like me to stay with you?”
I shook my head and tried to put her at ease. “I’m a big girl,” I said. “I don’t even need a night-light.”
“Then I’ll let you get your sleep,” she answered. Gently she kissed my cheek. “Good night, Andrea.”
“Good night, Aunt Madelyn,” I murmured. Impulsively, I reached out and hugged her. “Thanks,” I whispered.
I stood in the upper hall for a moment after Madelyn had gone into her room. The house creaked again, and I backed against the wall, trying to stare into the darkness. My imagination was ready to leap out of hand. I tried to hold it down, but it fought back, so I dashed into my bedroom. Groaning with relief, I locked the door.
The veranda doors were open wide, and moonlight from a clear sky poured into the room. Before I turned on the light I moved to close the doors, but suddenly someone stepped out of the bathroom, quickly slipped behind me, and clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t make a sound!” he whispered.
I struggled and tried unsuccessfully to make shouting noises in the back of my throat until the voice whispered, “I knew you’d do that! Will you just shut up!”
Relief turned my legs to wet spaghetti, and I collapsed against Pete, managing to throw him off balance, so we ended up in a heap on the floor.
“You’re heavier than you look,” he muttered as he tugged one of his legs out from under me.
“Thanks,” I grumbled sarcastically.
“Hey, it doesn’t bother me. Nobody’s perfect.”
“You really scared me, Pete! My heart’s still banging away!”
“Really? Let’s see.”
I pushed him away. “What are you doing here?”
“Taking care of you. What else?”
“Wait a minute.” I realized that even our whispers could probably be heard through the open veranda doors, so I jumped up and closed them tightly, then groped my way back to where I’d left
Pete sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. “Did you get a chance to go aboard the powerboat?” I asked.
“Yeah, I did. I looked over every inch of that boat, and the PI hadn’t come back by the time I left it.”
“He’s here at the house,” I said. “Tell me. What do you think about the boat?”
“It’s a neat boat. It’s got this terrific computer navigational device that—”
“Don’t get sidetracked. I don’t know what you’re talking about anyway. What I want to know is, will we be able to use the boat?”
“I know how to operate it. No problem.”
I shifted to snuggle against him, and he put an arm around me. “Thank you, Pete.”
“For what?”
“For being such a good person. I trusted you, and I was right. You could have taken that boat and left the island, but you didn’t. You stayed.”
“Do you think I would leave you with a murderer?” Pete’s breath was warm against my hair, and his other arm went around me. “You don’t need to thank me for being brave, for putting aside everything else in order to be with you. You’re very special, Andy. You—”
I would have let Pete go on, but a floorboard on the veranda cracked, and I quickly put a finger over his lips. “Someone’s out there,” I whispered.
I could feel Pete tense. We waited, ears straining to catch another sound.
It came. Another board creaking under someone’s weight, but farther down the veranda now,
away from my room. And another step, even farther away. I shivered with relief, or maybe it was Pete who shivered. We were so close together it was hard to tell the difference.
“In case we need to take the boat then, we’re ready,” I said. “You’ve got everything you need.”
“Except the ignition key,” he said.
I pulled away and stared at him, barely able to see him, even though my eyes had adjusted to the dark. I was so angry, it was probably just as well he couldn’t see my face. “The brave hero!” I said. “You chose to stay and protect me! Ha! You couldn’t take the boat out, because you didn’t find the key.”
“That was just one minor reason,” he said.
“Darn!” I said. I leaned back against the wall, my arms folded tightly.
“Hey, Andy, look at it this way. I’m here, aren’t I? I could have gone back to my own boat.”
“Just why are you here? I want an honest answer.”
“Because you’re here, and I really do want to help you.”
The anger began to dissipate, taking with it the hot tension from my head and neck and shoulders. I unfolded my arms and began to relax. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”
“Why don’t you just go to bed?” he asked. “I’ll sit here on the floor and keep watch.”
“You’ll get stiff. You’ll be uncomfortable.”
“All in the line of duty. You don’t need to thank me …” he began, but I giggled and sidled closer.
“I can’t sleep,” I said. “I’ll sit here with you.
Maybe if we go over everything that has happened, we can come closer to figuring out who might have killed the judge and Mr. Granakee.”
So, one by one, we talked about everyone who had come to the island, even including Aunt Madelyn. We didn’t leave Ellison out either. And we came up with nothing, except for that strange prickly feeling that poked at the back of my mind and refused to turn itself into words I could see and understand. What was I missing? What was I trying to remember?
I thought about it so hard that it surprised me when the idea began to fall into place. “Pete,” I murmured, and discovered that I was lying on the floor, a pillow under my head. The room was dark, still touched with moonlight from the open veranda doors, and I had no idea what time it was.