Island Blues (10 page)

Chapter Nineteen

“Will you get out of my way? I'm in a hurry.” Vicki Carroway elbowed her way to the front of the line. She ignored the grumbling of the people who had been standing in line for ten minutes or more to receive their cups full of foaming keg beer.

“Dern tourists think they own the place” and “go back up north where you're wanted” followed Vicki as she pointedly ignored the tip jar and strode away with beer in hand. She didn't usually drink beer, but it was the only alcohol available. She pushed her way through the crowd, at one point jabbing someone in the ankle with the tip of her high heel, until she stood at a prime spot on the bulkhead of the small public beach beside the ferry docks. It was the Wednesday sunset celebration, and Vicki made a habit of attending such events to gauge the local barometer.

“Hey, lady, you about pushed my kid over the bulkhead. We were here first, you know. What's your problem?”

Vicki turned and looked the man in the eye. After a moment, the man backed away, muttering, “oughta ban you folks, they should” under his breath. Men were intimidated by a woman who was their size and who didn't back down. Vicki was used to getting her way.

The sun was sinking down toward the water, and the sound of bongo drums was becoming louder and more vigorous. Vicki debated going over and slapping the dirty, dreadlocked young man who was ecstatically pounding on the drums, but it wasn't worth the struggle through the excited audience. Vicki sipped her beer and surveyed the sun, which was huge and bloated as it rested its weary bulk on the water. The crowd around her was cheering.

Vicki tried to tune the idiots out. She thought about the newest group she was wooing to the island, and her mouth salivated at the money signs they represented. The locals would really
love
this group, but there was nothing they could do about it. She knew they were getting restless, but she thought she had a while longer before she exhausted this market. Comico Island was proving to be a gold mine of untapped possibilities, and she was loathe to leave before every last penny was extracted.

It was an art, what she did, and she prided herself at being the best at it. She moved into a tourist area, dominated the market with advertising, and bullied the locals into cooperating with her. Then she used her considerable marketing skills to book the biggest groups she could, reaping monstrous commissions. Eventually, the market would tap out and she would move on to her next prospect. Paradise Vacations, of which she was the owner and president, was a guaranteed moneymaker.

Vicki chuckled. It was like stealing baby's binky. The locals never knew what hit them and she could just imagine them staggering about trying to pick up the pieces in her wake.

Around her, the crowd was cheering as the sun finally dropped out of sight. Vicki turned to leave and caught sight of that obnoxious busybody, Sabrina Dunsweeney. Vicki had a good laugh when she heard the town council bumpkins had appointed her as island ombudsman. Island ombudsman, for God's sake, who had heard of such a thing?

But Vicki would keep an eye on the woman. People like her, the ones who asked questions until they got answers, who didn't look the other way when something bad was going down, those were the ones who tended to kink up Vicki's plans.

If Sabrina kicked up too much of a fuss, Vicki could always evict her from her apartment. That should keep her occupied for a while.

Vicki was too smart not to take Sabrina Dunsweeney seriously.

***

The mood of the crowd was uneasy. Sabrina could feel the tension and simmering anger as she made her way through the throng of people. It was just after sunset and the bongo drums had stopped, replaced by a band playing Caribbean tunes. Nearby, at Houseboat Alley, beer flowed freely as people congregated on the front porches of the dilapidated boats. A few people had already started to dance on the square, and that number would increase as the night wore on.

The smell of crab cakes and fried shrimp was making her mouth water. Normally, she loved the island's weekly sunset celebration. It was a chance to get out and see people and have some fun. But tonight, the atmosphere was different, which was why she was here. Tonight she wasn't having fun, she was working.

“Lima!”

The old man was sitting on a bench, Bicycle Bob next to him on the ground. Bicycle Bob preferred to stay close to the ground.

“I'm glad you made it, Sabrina. Do you see what I mean? Everybody is all bent out of shape.” Lima was the reason she was here. After seeing Missy, she was on her way to talk with Sergeant Jimmy when Lima waved her down to tell her that emotions were starting to run high. The locals were convinced that a tourist was behind the break-ins, and their tempers were up.

“I wanted to come to see for myself. But you're right. I saw Bill Large cuss out a tourist for stepping on his toe, and a tourist yelling at someone for jostling him. Even Nettie Wrightly was rude to a customer who accused her of shortchanging him, and you know how sweet Nettie is. The visitors are on edge, and now the locals are too. It's starting to get to everybody. I need to do something!”

That was why she was here, to see if she could calm the escalating tempers. But what could she do? Nothing she had done in the past three days seemed to be working. She tried to help the Hummers, and their spokesperson ended up dead. The break-ins continued, despite her best efforts, and now the locals and tourists were at each others' throats. If anything, she had made things worse.

“Everybody knows that a tourist was responsible for breaking into Missy's house,” Lima said. “And probably all the rest of them break-ins as well. That on top of everything else is making people itchy.”

“There's no proof that it was a tourist. It could have been anyone.”

Lima shook his head. “Nobody on this island would mess with Missy's driftwood pieces. It had to be a tourist, either wanting to carry them off to the mainland or cut them up with a handsaw. Everybody knows that.”

Sabrina blushed as she thought about Missy's X-rated collection. Who would want to mess with it? “But what about Hill's break-in, and the one at the rental cottage? Those don't have anything to do with Missy's collection.”

Lima sipped his beer and surveyed her with one fluffy, ill-kempt eyebrow raised. “He's a thief. It doesn't matter if it's Missy's driftwood collection, or a DVD player, he's a thief plain and simple.”

“But he hasn't stolen anything! Not a single thing.”

“Give him time. He will.”

That's exactly what they didn't have, Sabrina thought as she watched a frowning vacationing couple walk by, followed by muttered imprecations from the locals standing nearby. She had to do something, and fast, but what?

“If I prove that a tourist wasn't responsible for Missy's break-in, that should ease the tensions some,” she mused out loud. She noticed that Bicycle Bob was humming “The Impossible Dream” and gave the back of his head a dirty look. “But then the tourists are still going to be unhappy, because Vicki Carroway will be booking their vacations. We need to stop her, Lima.”

“There she is right there, talking to Bill Large. I'll hold her down if you want to give her titty twisters until she agrees to go away.”

“Lima!”

Bicycle Bob creaked at their feet, and they both looked down at him.

“He's laughing again,” Lima said in wonder. “That's twice in the last couple of days. I wonder what's got into him.”

“I think it's wonderful. You need something to laugh about, don't you, Bicycle?”

Bicycle didn't acknowledge her.

“He used to laugh all the time,” Lima said wistfully. “Before he went away to the mainland and became a big shot lawyer. He was a fun kid, always pulling pranks and making people smile.”

“Bicycle was a big shot lawyer?” Sabrina felt as if her jaw was resting on the ground.

“Sure. He—”

“Sabrina! I don't know what we're paying you for, you're always sitting around and jawing with this old reprobate.” Mary Garrison Tubbs stood in front of them holding out a cell phone to Sabrina. “This call just came in for you. I hear you haven't bothered to go out to the Shell Lodge today. I swear, I don't know what you're good for.”

Sabrina put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Thank God. I didn't think I was ever going to track you down. Where have you been today?” It was Matt Fredericks, and Sabrina pressed the phone tighter to her ear so she could hear over the Jimmy Buffett tune.

“I've been busy with other pressing matters, Matt,” she said. “What's going on?”

“The police are on their way, but she's been asking for you. You've got to come quick, Sabrina. Sophie Jacquette was just attacked in her room!”

Chapter Twenty

Sabrina stepped on the accelerator and sped down Long Road toward Shell Island. First Gilbert's murder, and now this attack on Sophie. Did someone have a grudge against the Hummers?

Through her research at the library this morning, she learned quite a bit about the Hum. Thousands of people around the globe experienced the Hum—a sound like a large diesel engine idling nearby—and it was blamed for blurred vision, dizziness, fatigue, nosebleeds, insomnia and headaches. Long-term exposure to the Hum reportedly caused marital strife, paranoia and even suicide.

A significant percentage of people in Taos, New Mexico, experienced the Hum, and in the early 1990's they persuaded their congressman, Representative Bill Richardson, to initiate an investigation. Richardson named three weapons projects which he thought were likely sources of the phenomenon, and wrote a letter to Defense Secretary Les Aspin asking him to “make the necessary changes” to end the problem. The Pentagon denied involvement, however, and a thorough investigation, utilizing scientists from Los Alamos and the Phillips Air Force Laboratory, among others, turned up no clear source of the Hum.

Those seemed to be the only definitive facts about the Hum, however. It was not known whether the noise was acoustic in nature, or a low-frequency pulsed electrical signal. Nobody knew for sure what caused it. Theories ranged from military communications, to industrial machinery, singing fish, geological activity and even aliens from outer space.

Hummers International Incorporated was not a mainstream group. In fact, many of the other Hummers, or Hearers as some called themselves, thought that Hummers International and their belief that the Hum was the voice of the universe were a bunch of quacks.

There were several articles about Joseph Siderius, and it appeared that he was a well-respected scientist in the early days of the Hum. He gave several interviews to newspapers and was part of the 1993 government-funded investigation into the phenomenon. Sometime in the past ten years, however, he developed his belief that the Hum was the voice of the universe and his views lost favor. Despite Hummers International's loss of prestige in the Hummer community, it had grown in national prominence. It was certainly the group with the most impressive web presence and the slickest website.

Sabrina slowed down as she reached the turn off to Shell Island, so as not to repeat her close call with the tree. A makeshift barrier had been set up across the road and a man was standing there with a powerful flashlight.

“Do you have reason to be here, Miss?” he asked, shining the light into Sabrina's eyes.

“Yes. Matt Fredericks called me to come over. Lincoln, is that you?”

“Hi, Miss Sabrina. I recognized you, but I thought it'd be more professional if I didn't mention it.” The young man backed away, spoke into a radio, and then smiled as he waved Sabrina forward.

Bemused—since when did the Shell Lodge need security?—Sabrina waved and drove onto the causeway. It was hard to concentrate when she was feeling so frazzled. She hadn't managed to do anything at the sunset celebration to stem the rising animosity between vacationers and locals, and now she was rushing off to help the Hummers with no idea of how she could help.

She wasn't even sure what she thought about them. Were they quacks? She certainly didn't get that impression from Patti, Sophie, or Dennis. They were saner than she was, she suspected. And though she might not like Walter, the self-centered businessman was sharp. No mental deficiencies there. The only one she did not have a handle on was the grayish, mysterious Lance, but he had not given her any reason to doubt his mental stability. So what brought them all to a retreat to hear the voice of the universe? They were completely different people, from all walks of life. The only thing they shared was the disabling Hum…and a look of quiet desperation.

Sabrina frowned. Had Gilbert, Michael, and Joseph taken advantage of that desperation? To what end? Money didn't seem to be a motive, unless Patti was lying about how much she was paying to attend the retreat. And if money was the motive, would Joseph be a party to such a scheme? He had been involved in Hum research for thirty years. Would he really ruin his reputation, and very likely the credibility of the Hummers, on some sort of scam?

But if there was anybody who seemed iffy in the mental clarity department, it was Joseph Siderius. He had not spoken once that Sabrina had heard, and he seemed as unconnected to reality as a balloon in the grasp of a two-year-old.

And as for Michael and Gilbert, Sabrina was pretty sure she could believe them capable of almost anything.

***

“Sabrina!” Matt Fredericks was in the lobby talking to a police officer. “Where have you been all day? Things are terrible.”

Guilt engulfed her. What
had
she been doing all day? It felt like a lot, but clearly she hadn't been doing her job.

“I'm sorry, Matt, but I'm here now. What's going on? What's with the guards?”

“That's because of what's happening with the media. I've been trying to reach you all day, you know. The media has caught onto Mr. Kane's murder and it must seem pretty juicy to them.”

“I suppose it must, considering that a pretty model like Sophie is involved.”

Matt gave her a strange look. “They've been trying to sneak onto the island all day. The Hummers are in an uproar. And now with what happened tonight…”

“What happened? Where's Sophie?”

Matt gestured for her to follow him. “It happened right after dinner. Ms. Jacquette returned to her room to find someone inside. Thankfully, Mr. Dennis Parker was just outside. He heard the commotion and was able to drive the intruder out.”

They were outside now, passing by the pool, and plunging down one of the shell walkways lit only by small, solar-powered lamps. Bushes rustled in the darkness and Sabrina shivered. “Was she hurt?”

“It looks that way to me, but she refuses to let me call an ambulance. She didn't want me to call the police either, but I felt I had to do that. I also called Doc Hailey to come see her.”

“That man's never in his office,” Sabrina said disapprovingly. She'd been hearing about Doc Hailey since she arrived on the island, but had yet to set eyes on the man, and this after numerous visits to his office.

“I'm sure Ms. Jacquette will agree to let him check her over. No one says no to Doc Hailey.”

“What was the motive? Do we know? Was it burglary, or—or something else?”

“We don't know.” Matt's voice was grim. “It doesn't look like anything was taken, but Ms. Jacquette hasn't been back into her room to verify it.”

Another burglary with nothing stolen, Sabrina mused. And this one violent. Was this the work of their serial burglar?

“Did she see her attacker?”

“No one has been able to talk to her, but Mr. Parker said the man was dressed all in black and wore a mask. Also, when Mr. Parker went into Ms. Jacquette's cottage, the lights were out, so I don't think there's any chance she saw his face.”

They had reached a small cottage, and Matt knocked on the door. After a minute, the door opened a crack and Patti peered out.

“Sabrina! Thank goodness you're here!” Patti opened the door and pulled Sabrina inside. “Sophie just told me who did this. It was her ex-boyfriend, the famous actor Shane Ludrow!”