Deep Waters (8 page)

He caught Charity's gaze and gave her a slow, deliberate wink. She almost dropped her fork.

“Be interesting to see how long the Voyagers keep up the quaint custom after winter hits,” Yappy said gruffly. “They'll freeze their asses off out there on the beach if they try that in November.”

“They won't be here in November,” Bea reminded him. “Like the mayor says, they'll all leave when the spaceships fail to show up as promised.”

Newlin Odell raised his head abruptly. His eyes glittered with anger behind the round lenses of his wirerimmed glasses. “That chanting-down-the-sun shit is
just another stupid ritual Gwendolyn Pitt created to add a little color to her scam.”

“Take it easy, Newlin,” Ted advised. “So far as anyone can figure out, Pitt ain't doing anything illegal. Believe me, if there was something shady going on with the Voyagers, the town council would jump on it. They'd send the police chief out there in a red-hot minute if they had grounds.”

“That's true,” Yappy agreed. “Council's been looking for an excuse to get rid of the Voyagers ever since they arrived. I'm surprised Leighton Pitt isn't more upset than he is. You'd think he'd be real pissed. He owns half-interest in that old campground the Voyagers are using.”

Elias ate couscous with a contemplative air. “Is there a connection between Leighton Pitt, the realtor, and Gwendolyn Pitt, the cult leader? Or is the name just a coincidence?”

“No coincidence,” Bea said. “Leighton is the wealthiest man in town. Gwen is his ex-wife. They both used to run Pitt Realty together. But Leighton divorced Gwen a year ago to marry a new real estate agent named Jennifer who went to work for them. It was a real nasty mess.”

Elias flicked an inquiring glance at Charity. “And Pitt's ex-wife showed up this summer with the spaceship cult in tow?”

“Uh-huh.” Charity swallowed another spoonful of delicious noodles. “Makes you wonder, doesn't it?”

“Gwen's up to something, all right,” Yappy said thoughtfully. “Must be cash in it somewhere. That woman always knew how to make money. Pitt was an idiot to dump her. Business hasn't been near as good for him since the divorce. Jennifer can't sell real estate the way Gwen could.”

“I'll tell you one thing.” Newlin's fingers clenched
around his can of pop with such force that the thin aluminum crumpled. “Gwendolyn Pitt shouldn't be allowed to get away with what she's doing. She's ruining people's lives. My Arlene turned over every cent she had to that damn cult. Someone oughta take care of Gwendolyn Pitt for good.”

3
 
 

The most dangerous tides are those that swirl in the shallow waters close to shore where a man believes himself to be safe.

—“On the Way of Water,” from the journal of Hayden Stone

“Things are looking up, Davis. The new owner says he's going to renew the leases.”

Charity scrunched the phone between her ear and her left shoulder so that she could use both hands to unpack a box of books that had just been delivered that morning. Although she had no competition as yet from other bookstores, she believed in getting the latest titles out onto the shelves as quickly as possible. Regardless of the size of a business, good service was the best way to ensure customer loyalty. She had salvaged the Truitt chain with that simple philosophy and saw no reason to alter it with Whispers.

“You got contracts yet?” Davis asked with typical pragmatism.

“No. And you don't have to tell me that nothing is for sure until the paperwork is signed in September, but this guy is a little off-beat. Definitely not your typical business mentality. I think we may be out of the woods.”

“He knows about the town's plans for Crazy Otis Landing, and he still wants to renew the leases at the old rates?” Davis still sounded skeptical.

“That's what he says.” Charity smiled as she discovered twenty copies of the latest Elizabeth Lowell release in the box she had just opened. She had a long waiting list of readers who were eagerly awaiting the popular author's newest title.

“What kind of an idiot did you get for a landlord, Charity? Must be a life-is-like-a-box-of-chocolates kind of guy.”

“Not exactly. He's more of a noodle type.”

“Noodle? As in limp?”

Charity grinned in spite of herself. “Wrong image, Davis. Try a life-is-like-water-but-if-the-water-is-muddy-you-don't-get-a-good-reflection kind of guy.”

“That doesn't sound like much of an improvement.”

“Actually, he's a little hard to explain.” After ten days of having Elias in the vicinity, Charity found him more intriguing than ever. Her curiosity and her fascination were both growing daily. “Anyway, about the leases. As I told you, we're not in the clear yet. But you know me and my intuition. Something tells me that Winters isn't likely to change his mind next month.”

“The new owner's name is Winters?” Davis asked sharply.

“That's right. Elias Winters.”

“I'll be damned.” Davis whistled softly. “There wouldn't be any connection to Elias Winters of Far Seas, Inc., would there?”

“Yes. You know him?”

“Not personally.” Davis paused. “But I've heard about him. Very low-profile, very high-impact. Has important connections all over the Rim. Knows the right people.”

“He said something about being a consultant.”

“Word has it that if you need help establishing business relationships in certain quarters, he can open doors. For a price. He can also close them, if you get my drift.”

“I see. How come I've never heard of him?”

“He's strictly Pacific Rim, and Truitt wasn't involved in Rim trade when you were at the helm. But lately Meredith and I have been thinking about expanding again. Winters's name came up when I started exploring certain possibilities.”

“Hmm.”

“Far Seas is apparently a one-man operation,” Davis continued. “Winters seems to have carved out a unique niche for himself. He handles business negotiations in small, out-of-the-way places that others ignore. Speaks two or three obscure languages that no one else can be bothered to learn. His clients are usually very rich and very low-profile. The kind of big-money movers and shakers who avoid the spotlight. Are you sure you're dealing with
that
Elias Winters?”

“That's who he claims to be. What's wrong?”

“I'm not sure,” Davis admitted. “But I can tell you that, from what I've heard about him, he sure as hell isn't the type to move to a small town and run a curio shop on a pier. Keep your eyes open, Charity. My guess is he knows something you don't.”

“Such as?”

“Who can tell? Maybe one of his off-shore clients is preparing to move into Whispering Waters Cove.”

“And Elias is here to pave the way?”

“It's about the only scenario I can think of that fits the situation. If that's the case, there's money involved. A lot of it.”

“He said he inherited the pier from Hayden Stone, our former landlord.”

“Maybe he did and maybe he didn't,” Davis mused.

“Are you saying that Elias Winters may have bought the pier from Hayden Stone on behalf of his off-shore client?” It worried Charity that she had not thought of that possibility herself. She hoped that she hadn't been out of the corporate world for so long that she could no longer trust her instincts. “Maybe that's why Hayden was in Seattle when he had the heart attack. He was finalizing the deal. But why would Elias lie about it?”

“Use your head, Charity,” Davis said. “The pier may be just the beginning. If Winters has been hired to pick up a lot of choice real estate for a foreign investor, the last thing he'll want to do is drive up property values around Whispering Waters Cove.”

“True.” Charity drummed her fingers on the stack of Elizabeth Lowell books. “If he's going to buy a lot of land here, he'll try to keep the purchases quiet as long as possible. Pretending that he inherited the pier and has no immediate plans for it would be one way of deflecting curiosity.”

Davis chuckled. “You told me the town council wants to go boutique. But, believe me, they ain't seen nothin' yet. Not if Winters is a player. Some of his clients are into world-class resort developments. Waterfront is perfect for them.”

Charity considered the situation. The town council was already salivating at the prospect of converting Crazy Otis Landing into an upscale tourist attraction. But the mayor and the council members would go wild if they believed that a wealthy off-shore investor
was preparing to turn Whispering Waters Cove into a glitzy destination resort.

“Any company moving into Whispering Waters Cove will want to pick up the land it needs as cheaply as possible before word gets out and all the locals decide to try to make a killing,” Davis added. “It's common to send in a good point man to buy the big parcels before anyone knows what's happening.”

Crazy Otis Landing was a nice chunk of waterfront property, Charity reflected. It could easily form the heart of a major resort. “You think Elias Winters might be acting as a point man for an off-shore investor?”

“I think it's a reasonable assumption, given what I've heard about Winters.”

“But why would he agree to renew the leases at the old rates if he wanted the pier for his client?” Charity was irritated by the rising note in her own voice. There was no call to get emotional about this, she thought. This was business. She had once been very good at business.

“If I'm right, you're looking at three- to five-year planning in action,” Davis explained.

“In which case, renewing the leases for another year is no big deal,” Charity said glumly. “Whoever is behind the operation may not intend to start construction for another couple of years.”

“Exactly. Why not let the present tenants hang around for a while? Besides, it helps maintain the low profile.”

“I get the picture,” Charity said. “If we want secure leases here on the pier, we'd better negotiate them for at least three years, maybe five.”

“Relax,” Davis said cheerfully. “It's not your problem. You've got more than enough business savvy to keep your little bookstore going regardless of what
happens to the pier. In fact, a major resort would probably do wonders for your bottom line. People on vacation read a lot. You'll be okay.”

But Bea, Yappy, Radiance, and Ted didn't have her skills and business acumen, Charity thought. They were not what anyone in the corporate world would call players. It was true that they had improved their business methods in the past year, but their little shops were unlikely to survive a sudden, major redevelopment of the pier.

“Thanks, Davis. Say hello to Meredith.”

“I will. About time you came into the city to see us, isn't it?”

“I'll get in one of these days.”

“Good.” Davis hesitated. “Sure you're not bored with running that little pier shop yet?”

“I'm sure.”

“I have a bet with Meredith. I give you six more months before you come back to Seattle.”

“You're going to lose, Davis.”

“We'll see. By the way, Charity, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“A word of warning. Watch your step with Winters. Rumor has it he's not just a player, he's a winner. Every time.”

“No one wins every time, Davis.”

Charity said good-bye and hung up the phone. For a while she gazed blindly at the display of mystery titles that occupied a large section of one wall.

Why was she feeling such a letdown, she wondered. She knew how the players in the business world worked. Davis had only said aloud things that she, herself, should have suspected from the start.

The truth was that she did not want to believe that Elias Winters might be deliberately deceiving her. During the past ten days she had begun to hope that
he was exactly what he claimed to be. A man who had come to Whispering Waters Cove to find some answers.

A man who had something in common with her.

The soft knock on the kitchen screen door came after dinner that evening. It startled Charity, who was sitting at the table, filling out yet another in the seemingly endless series of bureaucratic forms that always threatened to drown a small business. Her pen slipped on the first letter of her name just as she was about to add her signature. The
C
came out as an odd little squiggle.

Charity threw down the pen and shot to her feet. She whirled to face the door. A dark figure loomed on the step.

“Who's there?”

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.” Elias gazed at her through the screen. His eyes gleamed in the fading twilight.

The small jolt of fear dissolved into a tingle of relief. “You didn't scare me. I just didn't hear you.” Feeling like a fool for having overreacted, she rose and went to the door. “I had a little trouble here last month. Someone trashed my house one evening while I was out attending a meeting of the town council. I guess I'm still a little jumpy.”