Breaking the Chain (26 page)

             
Jack flopped on the bed and waited for Mary to come back from checking on Justine and Sadie. "Everything all right?" he asked when she returned.
             
Nodding, she closed the door behind her. "Yeah. They're both sleeping like babies." She shrugged out of her lightweight jacket and hung it in the closet. "I don't know about you, but I'm bushed. You want something to eat before we go to bed?"
             
Jack patted the bed beside him. "No, actually I want to talk to you about something."
             
She climbed into bed and turned to face him. "Oh yeah? What?"
             
"I've been thinking..."
             
Scrunching up her face, she began to moan. "Oh, no. I hate it when you start a sentence out like that. It usually means I'm gonna end up doing something I don't want to do."
             
Grinning lopsidedly, he reached out and ruffled her hair. "Don't be silly. I'm serious."
             
"That's what worries me."
             
Tweaking her nose gently, he propped himself up on one elbow. "Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I've been thinking about your talent. You know, if you could figure out a way to make it work when you wanted it to, we might be able to start our own business."
             
"What do you mean, our own business? We have a business already. The plantation, remember?"
             
He waved one hand through the air. "That's not what I'm talking about. What if we started a business using your talent? We could call it Retrieval, Inc. We could run an ad saying that we retrieve 'lost' items, like wills, jewelry, et cetera. and see what happens. Whenever you find something that's been lost, we could charge clients a finder's fee, or if the item's worth a lot of money, we could charge ten to twenty percent of its value. That's how insurance investigators work. They find lost or stolen items all the time. What do you think?"
             
She rolled over onto her back. "I think you're nuts. First, my talent doesn't turn on and off like a faucet. I wish it did. Second, when are we supposed to look for this stuff? Not only do we both have fulltime jobs, we also run a bed and breakfast. When are we supposed to do this--in our sleep?"
             
He slid off the bed and walked over to the door. "Well, it's just an idea. Think about it. Maybe we can work something out part-time, and if it pans out, then keep it up until we do it on a fulltime basis. It might be kind of fun to look for lost items or jewelry."
             
Yawning, Mary climbed off the bed and padded into the bathroom. "We'll see. Ask me after I've had a good night's sleep. You going downstairs to lock up?"
             
"Yeah. You want anything?"
             
"Nah, thanks. I'm going to take a shower and climb into bed. I feel like I could sleep for a week."
             
"Don't use all the hot water; I'll get my shower after I lock up." He paused, hand on the doorknob. "Did Mrs. Milliron say anything about Dykes' friend, Sal? I forgot to ask about him."
             
"No. You might want to check and make sure he's not wandering around in the garden before you lock up. I'd hate to have him banging on the door all night trying to wake somebody up to let him back into the house."
             
Jack chuckled. "Yeah. He might not be too happy. The last thing we want is to have Sal mad at us."

             
            
             
             
                  
      
45
 

             
             
The lit end of a cigarette cast a faint glow in the far corner of the yard behind the workshop. Being careful to keep the end of his flashlight pointed toward the ground, Dykes picked his way among the rocks and debris, nearly falling when a knurly root branch snared the toe of his shoe. "Sal, is that you?" he whispered in the darkness.
             
"Who else would it be?" Sal snarled in tone that left no doubt about his displeasure. "It's about time you got here; I've been cooped up with those crazy old biddies for two days. Where the hell you been? You're late."
             
"We had a delay getting out of Boston," Dykes explained nervously. "Is everything set for tonight?"
             
Sal flicked his cigarette to the ground and used the heel of his shoe to grind it into the dirt. "No thanks to you. If I didn't have so much at stake here, you'd be floating with the fishes, Dykes. You and your friends. Lucky for you, I got too much money tied up in this deal." He shined the beam of his flashlight toward Dykes, illuminating the pulpy mass that used to be Dykes' face. "I see my boys paid you a little visit. Maybe next time you'll make sure we don't have any last minute change in plans." His soft chuckle reverberated in the night air. "Don't worry. Unlike a bullet, bruises aren't permanent. You'll be back to your old pretty self in no time--providing you don't screw up again."
             
"Yeah, well, thanks to your goons, I almost couldn't fly the plane." Dykes complained, rubbing his sore ribs. "You didn't have to send your boys after me, Sal. We've been doing business together for two years; I'd never double-cross you. I like living too much."
             
"That's good, fly-boy. Because I got your number, and so do my boys." Sal playfully slapped Dykes' cheek, smiling as the pilot winced in pain.
             
"When do we start?" Dykes asked, holding a hand to his face. He peered out into the darkness, straining to see any sign of movement. "I don't see anybody; I thought you said your men were in place."
             
"What are you--stupid, or what? You aren't supposed to see them; that's the whole point," Sal pointed out in an ominous tone. "Don't worry about me or my men. You just keep your friends in the house busy; otherwise, there'll be more than cargo floating in the river tonight."
             
Shivers raced up and down Dykes' spine when he realized that Sal meant every word he said. The man would snuff out a human life the way normal people would squash a spider--and he wouldn't think twice about doing it, either. Neither would any of his men. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Dykes racked his brain for the right words to convince Sal that he could handle the folks at the house--without bloodshed. "Everything's under control; there's no reason for any of them to interfere with our plans. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of Mary, Jack, and the others, without any help from your men."
             
Dykes spun around to face the house, which was still ablaze with lights. "We better get back before the housekeeper sends out a search party," he suggested nervously. "Mrs. Milliron was getting worried; that's why I came out. If we don't get back soon, she's liable to call the cops." He shivered at the thought of Sal turning his thugs loose against Mary, Jack, Sadie, and Justine. They wouldn't stand a chance against any of Sal's men--especially the two older women.
             
Sal switched his flashlight on and off several times; there was an answering flicker from the river bank behind them. "Get moving. I don't want nobody poking their heads around here while my guys are loading the stuff. I'd hate to have to shoot somebody."
 

             
             
             
             
             
             
* * * * *
 

             
When Jack didn't reappear, Mary pulled on her robe and slippers and made her way downstairs. She found Jack and Mrs. Milliron whispering in the drawing room; the housekeeper had a worried look on her face.
             
"What's the matter?" Mary asked. "Is everything all right?"
             
Mrs. Milliron patted her chest nervously. "I'm worried about our guest, Mrs. Windom. He went out for a walk over an hour ago and hasn't come back. Mr. Dykes went out to look for him, but he hasn't come back either. I hate to admit this, but I let Mr. Dykes talk me into me not telling you his friend was missing until he had a chance to look for him. I'm sorry; I know it was wrong. I was going to tell you earlier, but he said his friend was probably on his way back. He said Mr. Sal walked several miles a day."
             
Tears welled in the older woman's eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks. "Now both of them are missing, and it's all my fault. What could've happened to them? They should've been back by now."
             
The housekeeper sank into a nearby chair and rubbed her hands together. "I'll never forgive myself if anything's happened to them. I never should have let Mr. Dykes talk me into not telling you about his missing friend." She looked up, a worried frown on her face. "What are we going to do?"
             
Jack patted the old woman's shoulder while he exchanged worried glances with Mary. "It's all right, Mrs. Milliron. It's not your fault." He walked over to the antique bureau that covered one wall and rummaged through a drawer. "Mary, where's the big flashlight we keep for emergencies?"
             
"I...I gave it to Mr. Dykes," the housekeeper confessed with a guilty look. "He said he needed a flashlight, and that was the only one I could find."
             
"Great," Mary said, then bit her lip when the housekeeper started sobbing. She wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulder. "It's okay, Mrs. Milliron. Any of us would have given him the flashlight if he'd asked," she lied. "It was the right thing to do. Please, stop crying."
             
Shaking her head, Mary moved closer to Jack. "Do you know where the other nine-volt battery flashlight is?"
             
"No, that's why I asked you," Jack replied in a disgusted voice.
             
"What about a hurricane lamp?" Mrs. Milliron suggested, wiping the tears from her face. "We have plenty of those around here. Why don't I go get a couple?"
             
"Good idea, Mrs. Milliron. And you might want to make a pot of coffee after that. If both men turn up missing, it could be a long night," Mary suggested. She watched the sniffling housekeeper shuffle out of the room. "God, of all the stupid, idiotic things to do..."
             
"There's no sense blaming Mrs. Milliron, Mary," Jack said. "It wasn't her fault."
             
"I wasn't talking about her; I was talking about Dykes," Mary answered tartly. "Why would he ask Mrs. Milliron not to tell us his friend was missing? The man knows absolutely nothing about this area, which is infested with bayous, not to mention alligators; it was stupid to go out looking for his friend. Now, instead of one missing guest, we have two." She moved toward the hallway, her slippers flopping on the wooden floor. "Give me a few minutes to go upstairs and change and I'll go with you to look for them. We'll need to go out together, in case they're hurt. That way, one of us can go for help while the other stays with them."
             
Jack nodded. "Good idea. Hurry up, okay?"
             
"Five minutes, max" Mary promised, disappearing into the hallway.
             
While he waited for Mary to change, Jack dragged the first aid kit out of the bureau and checked to make sure it had been restocked. Luckily, the kit was full, and after thinking about where the men might have gone, he stuffed another couple of bandages into the box for good measure. With two men missing, they'd probably need more than one.
             
A flask of coffee laced with whiskey might not be a bad idea, either, if the men were lost for any length of time. The whiskey would help to ward off shock, especially if either of them needed medical attention.
             
Mrs. Milliron burst into the room, carrying two hurricane lanterns. "Here's the biggest ones I could find," she said, handing them to Jack. "Do you want me to wake Sadie and Justine?"
             
"No, let them sleep. Just put the lamps on the bureau, please," Jack requested as he closed the first aid kit. "Would you mind making another pot of coffee and putting it in a thermos for me? We'll need to take one with us, in case it takes a while to find our guests."
             
"Right. I've got one brewing; won't take a moment," the housekeeper promised, rushing out of the room.
             
"I'm ready," Mary called softly from the hall, taking the last two stairs in one jump. "Where do you want to search first?"
             
"I'm just waiting for a flask of coffee to take with us," Jack said. "We probably should do the backyard first, then head for the river after that. If I was going to take a walk, it would by the river, because it's cooler."
             
She nodded. "Good idea. I was going to suggest down the drive, but your idea makes more sense."
             
Mrs. Milliron appeared, thermos in hand. "Here's your coffee," she said, handing the thermos to Mary. "It's hot and black."
             
"You might want to add a few drops of whiskey," Jack suggested. "It couldn't hurt, and it might help ward off a chill."
             
Mary carried the thermos into the living room and unscrewed the lid. Taking a whiskey bottle from the cabinet, she poured some into the thermos. A noise outside the drawing room caught her attention, and she nearly dropped the bottle when Dykes and another man entered the room through the French doors.
             
"What's going on?" Dykes asked, scraping mud from the soles of his shoes.
             
Mary set the thermos on the bureau, then walked into the hallway. "Jack, they just came in," she announced in a relieved voice. "They're in the drawing room--both of them."
             
"Thank you, Lord," Mrs. Milliron said, covering her mouth with her hands. "My God, I'm so thankful they're back in one piece." She paused, looking at Mary for confirmation. "They are all right, aren't they?"
             
Although furious at the two men, Mary managed to paste what she hoped was a smile on her lips. "They're fine, Mrs. Milliron. Thanks for all your help. I appreciate it."
             
"I'll take the thermos back to the kitchen," Mrs. Milliron volunteered after staring at Mary for a few moments. She patted Mary's arm. "You could probably use a drink right now, after all that excitement." Shaking her head, the housekeeper fled down the hall to the safety of the kitchen.
             
"Better count to fifty before you say anything Mary," Jack warned, taking note of his wife's clenched fists. "Remember, they're our guests. Paying guests."
             
"Not for long. Fools are something we don't want or need." She counted to thirty, then followed Jack into the drawing room, promising herself that if Jack didn't chew Dykes out, she most certainly would. In fact, she'd love to have Dykes to herself for five or ten minutes so she could tell the stupid idiot exactly what she thought of him.
             
Dykes and the other man sat on the couch, laughing at a private joke. It was obvious from their behavior that they had no idea of the uproar their absence had caused. Mary opened her mouth to tell them, but closed it when Jack placed a warning hand on her arm. Fine, if he wanted to chew them out, so be it. She busied herself with reorganizing the whiskey bottles, watching Jack out of the corner of her eye.
             
"Had a nice walk?" Jack asked in a pleasant tone.
             
Both men looked up. "Yeah, sorry to take so long," Dykes apologized in a glib tone. "Sal and I got carried away talking about old times and walked further down the road than we should have. Sorry if we worried you guys, but, as you can see, we're fine." He grabbed the flashlight and handed it to Jack. "Thanks for the light."
             
"No problem," Jack said. "However, you might want to be careful, especially at night. The bayous around here are treacherous, not to mention filled with water moccasins and alligators. It could be very dangerous if you were to fall into one."
             
"Point taken," the man sitting next to Dykes said.
             
Mary watched the two guests out of the corner of her eye, noting Dykes' deferential attitude toward the man sitting next to him. It was almost as if Dykes was monopolizing the conversation so Jack didn't have a chance to talk to the man. Why would he do that? Was he afraid of what the man might say?
             
The conversation lulled when Mrs. Million brought in glasses for the four of them and set them on the table.
             
"I'll say good night, if there isn't anything else," the housekeeper said, eyeing the two men sitting on the sofa.
             
"Nothing for us, thanks," Dykes answered quickly. "Good night, Mrs. Milliron."
             
"Night," the housekeeper said, closing the door behind her.
             
"Drink, anyone?" Mary asked, walking over to the coffee table and lifting two glasses from the tray. "Would you like something to drink, Mr. er--"
             
"Just call him Sal, Mary," Dykes cut in. "He likes being called Sal."
             
Mary noted the chilling glance the man sent toward Dykes. If those two were friends, she was the Queen of Egypt! What was going on? She glanced at the tall, black-headed man sitting next to Dykes. Dressed in tailored pants and a white linen shirt, he looked nothing like any tour bus owner she'd ever known. He seemed more the Chairman of the Board type to her, someone who was used to giving orders and having them carried out--without question. His cold, dead eyes locked with hers and sent chills racing down her spine. The man was definitely not one she'd want to cross, or come upon in a deserted alley. Beads of sweat broke out on her brow when it occurred to her that Sal might possibly be Sadie's brown man. Dear God, was he the man Sadie'd been seeing in her visions? Her hand started to shake and she quickly set the two glasses back on the tray.
             
"Whiskey, Sal?" she repeated, determined to put on a brave front. "With or without ice?"
             
"Straight up, thanks," the man answered in a deep, throaty voice.
             
Surely he couldn't be Sadie's brown man. Granted, there was something ominous about the man, but threatening? Besides, his skin was whiter than hers. How could he possibly be the man they'd all feared?
             
"How do you like the plantation so far?" she asked, determined to find out more about him. "Have you had a chance to see the grounds?" She walked over to the cabinet, poured a shot of whiskey into two glasses, then handed one to him and Dykes.
             
"They're nice," he answered in clipped tones. "Very nice, indeed."
             
"I'm sorry we weren't here when you arrived. However, I'd be glad to give you the grand tour tomorrow," she offered.
             
"That won't be necessary," Sal answered, setting his glass on the table. "I'll be leaving first thing in the morning."
             
"I see," Mary said, breathing a sigh of relief. Maybe he wasn't Sadie's brown man after all. "Will you be returning soon?"
             
The man sent her a quelling look, and Mary felt her breath catch in her throat. What must he be like when he was angry? She had an abrupt feeling that she didn't want to find out. Some things were better left unknown. Especially with him.
             
"I don't mean to be rude, but if you'll excuse me, I think I'll turn in for the night," Sal said, rising from the couch. "Good night."
             
"I'll walk upstairs with you," Dykes chimed in, setting his glass on the table. "I think I'll turn in, too." He waved to Mary and Jack. "See you in the morning."
             
"Good night," Mary and Jack said in unison as the men left the room.
             
"I don't think Sal likes us very much," she observed once the two men were out of earshot. "Did you notice the way Dykes acted around him?"
             
"I don't like him, either," Jack agreed. "That man gives me the creeps. Did you see his eyes? I've never seen eyes like that in my life. They were like...like shark's eyes--dead and cold."
             
"Forget his eyes," Mary said, coming to stand next to Jack. "Did you see the way he looked at Dykes? If those two men are friends, I'm the Queen of Sheba. Enemies is more like it. What's going on, Jack?" Her gaze traveled to the floor, then back to her husband. "Did Dykes say they walked in from the road?"