Safe Harbor (30 page)

His considerateness annoyed Sam, who wanted intensely to
hate
the man. Still, Sam was fairly sure that he was going to have the last grim laugh of the evening, so he said, "Fine with me. Let's go."

By the time they dropped down below the tide line where the wet, hard sand was easier to walk on, Sam's eyes had adjusted to the night. A dazzling canopy of
stars overhead made him resent his mission all the more. He should be strolling on this beach with Holly, not her old man, and talking about their glorious future, not Sam's misbegotten past.

The low hiss of the sea as it advanced and retreated at their feet seemed to set the stage for what was bound to be a venomous conversation—but Hol
ly's
father
was
blissfully unaware of that.

He said genially, "Sorry I couldn't meet with you earlier; I've had a million things to do. So what's on your mind? You said on the phone that you have important information about
Eden
."

"That I do," Sam said
wryly
. A wave rolled up a little higher than the rest, washing over one of his deck shoes. He hardly noticed. "It seemed best to handle it face-to—"

"Y'know, I could have saved you the trouble of coming here,"
Anderson
cut in, sounding laughably cocky. "I already know what you have to say. I know pretty much everything there is to know about
Eden
—now."

"Really. I'm probably wasting your valuable time, in that case," Sam said in a dry voice.

It was obvious that
Eden
had made contact with
Anderson
. But even if she
had
told him about Sam and her—which Sam did not believe—it wouldn't have made any difference. Sam was there to make it official before he returned to tell Holly. In his mind there was a definite protocol to a full confession: first you prevented the bigamy; then you went back and dealt a full body blow to your own chances for happiness.

"So
Eden
got in touch with you," he said.

"Indeed she did,"
Anderson
crowed. "She did not drown. I did not kill her. She did not run off with a Durer engraving."

"That's not what my folks tell me," said Sam, seizing on the one inaccuracy.

"That was all a misunderstanding," Holly's father assured him. He was so clearly eager to explain. "
Eden
took the engraving to have it appraised, just as she had promised your parents she'd do. She knows how naive they are, and she didn't want them getting fleeced by some unscrupulous dealer."

"Uh-huh," said Sam, studying a brightly lit house down the beach with more interest than he could muster for
Eden
's excuses. "Unfortunately, I know at least one dealer who's offering a different version of events."

"Stefan Koloman, you mean. Yes, she told me about him, too. A shady, unscrupulous character. He claims that she cut him out of his commission,"
Anderson
acknowledged. "Not so. Technically,
Eden
found the buyer on her own: she deduced the name of the party from something that Koloman said."

"She stole the name of the party from Koloman's Rolodex."

"Is that what he claims? Why would you believe a man like that instead of
Eden
?"

"Doesn't it tell you something that I believe a man like that instead of
Eden
?" Sam asked wearily.

"She was trying to get the most money she could for your parents, Steadman. Can't you understand that?"

"Where's the money, in that case?"

"I didn't ask. It was enough for me to know that she's anxious to give it all to your parents. You ought to feel the same."

There was a shame-on-you quality to his scolding that Sam found infuriating. He said, "Are we to assume that
Eden
was traveling by windsurfer to the nearest saf
e-
deposit box?"

Anderson
's laugh sounded genuinely bemused. "Crazy kid—you wouldn't believe what she was trying to pull off."

"Sure I would," Sam said. "Try me."

"We were in
Portsmouth
. She took a call on her cell phone that upset her very much. I know—now—that it was from Koloman; he was threatening to kill her for going around him. She didn't know what to do—she didn't want to involve me and put me in harm's way—so she decided to fake her own death. It seemed like the only way to throw Koloman off her trail. That's why she staged the windsurfer accident. Poor thing
... she had no idea that the police would misinterpret the scene and term it suspicious. She was devastated when she read about that in the papers—devastated."

"I can imagine," said Sam, but the irony eluded
Anderson
.

Sam knew that
Eden
wouldn't give a damn if the scene were misinterpreted; she might even prefer it to look like a homicide—although he couldn't imagine why.

No, there were only two possibilities to explain
Eden
's return. Either the money or the engraving was still on the boat, in which case Holly was right and they should have searched the
Vixen
harder.

Or (and in the circumstances, the second possibility was distinctly relevant):

"Have you offered to marry her yet?"

Anderson
's head jerked up—the question was bluntly put—but he declined to answer.

They were abreast of the brightly lit house that had caught Sam's eye. A party of beautiful-people types were enjoying drinks and muted patter on one of its decks, high above the beach. Holly's father maintained a steadfast silence as they passed, and Sam listened instead to the waves rolling in and then out, flat and hissing, dragging shells and stones behind in their wake.

The next few houses were dark—a better backdrop, apparently, for what
Anderson
had to say.

"You're the second person to ask me that," he said at last. "It doesn't concern you, but—maybe because you're not family—I think I'll tell you, anyway. The answer is, no, I hadn't spoken of marriage with
Eden
before she disappeared. But earlier today when she called me—yes. I did."

Sam felt no jealousy, only sadness for Holly and her family as he said dryly, "Presumably Eden is willing."

"She is!" Holly's father blurted, sounding amazed and grateful.

He recovered and said in a more dignified way, "I'm only telling you this because I want everyone to understand that
Eden
took a huge risk when she re-established contact with me. She had no idea that I'd be willing to forgive her for the embarrassment—the humiliation—I'd endured. You have to realize also that she's opening herself up to the possibility of prosecution by the Coast Guard. At a minimum, they'll likely present a hefty bill for their search effort. The State Police aren't too happy, either."

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand and said, "But that's all behind us now. I told her we'd pay Koloman his outrageous commission, we'd give your parents the full amount of the transaction, we'd make everyone happy."

"Everyone?"

It was a jab to the throat;
Anderson
's voice became taut. "You know what I mean."

Another wave oozed around their feet as they marched doggedly on in their walk to nowhere. Behind them Sam heard the cocktail chatter become suddenly animated, and then several guests breaking away from it in a shouting, laughing run through the dark for the beach.

Sam wanted out of there. It was time to tell the besotted fool that there was one little detail that Eden, for all her candor, apparently had forgot to mention. Before that, though, Sam had one last question. "Did
Eden
ever explain the blood on the deck of your boat?"

"Holly told you about that?"

Sam said bluntly, "Your daughter thinks you're making up that story about
Eden
hurting herself cutting an orange. Although she didn't say so, I assume she believes as I do: that
Eden
did indeed try to frame you for her murder, and that you're lying to cover for her."

"Well, that's where you're wrong, Steadman!" he said in triumph. "I admit, I didn't know how the blood had got there, and I accounted for it in the most logical way I could envision. But this morning I asked
Eden
if she had cut herself without my knowing it, and she said yes, absolutely yes. So much for your frame-up theory."

Sam snorted.
Eden
could have seen this guy coming with her eyes closed and a lead box over her head.

Anderson
sounded almost plaintive as he said, "No, I'm telling you: she was staging an accident, not a murder."

Out of patience, Sam stopped where he was, pulling the other man up short. "And I'm telling
you
,"
he said, "
Eden
is a liar, a con—and somebody's wife."

"Wife
? What are you talking about?"
Anderson
said angrily. "Whose wife?"

"Mine, Mr. Anderson."

He staggered as if Sam had kicked him in the balls. "You're full of shit," he said. "
Eden
's never been married."

"Oh, yes, sir. At least once. We never divorced. I thought for a while there that she might be legally dead, but what do you know? She lives to wreak her havoc."

"You son of a bitch liar—my family put you up to this!" he cried, taking an awkward swing at Sam.

It was such a contemptible accusation that Sam lashed out with a fist without thinking, landing it, despite the darkness, squarely on
Anderson
's jaw.

Anderson
staggered with
a shocked
uh
—no doubt he'd never been decked before—and then
something seemed to snap in him
as well. He came lunging back at Sam with surprising ferocity, catching Sam completely off guard. Down they went, rolling and flailing in the wake of retreating shells and stones, getting soaked, tasting salt, cursing like a couple of kids in a schoolyard brawl.

He thinks we're fighting over Eden
, Sam realized as he tried not to hurt him.
For all I know, he's right.
He held
Anderson
immobile, but he wriggled free of Sam's grip.
Maybe I'm taking her out on him.

He tried to contain the man, but
Anderson
continued swinging wildly, a clueless knight on an ignoble mission. And then Sam caught a punch to the ear, ridiculously painful for a creampuff swing, and it infuriated him. The
New Bedford street
fighter took over and he landed a succession of punches, left, right, left, to
Anderson
's nose and chin. He wanted to pull back, but there was something about the man—something so stupid and irrational and mirror-image of Sam—that he wanted to destroy it completely.

Anderson
tripped and fell. Sam pounced on him. Round and round they rolled, with Holly's father clearly on the run, trying to claw away from Sam and crawl up the beach. Sam wouldn't have it. He grabbed the lawyer's sodden slacks and yanked him back, back to the sea—for all intents and purposes, ready to drown him on the spot.

"You asshole!" he shouted between grunts. "You idiot fathead asshole!" He was sitting on
Anderson
now, screaming in his face, trying to get through to him, oblivious to the fact that the waves were washing around them, oblivious to the fact that the man was no longer resisting.

In horror he suddenly sat back.
What am I doing? What am I doing?
He rolled off
Anderson
and began hauling him to his feet.
I'm beating up Holly's father, for pity's sake. What next?
Little old ladies at bus stops
?

Sickened by the fact that he'd yielded to such an easy temptation, he said between gasps for breath, "You okay? Are you okay?" He had to support
Anderson
and was grudgingly impressed by the man's response.

"I'm
... okay. I started it. I'm okay," he said, weaving in place.

"Good. Well—good," said Sam. He let go tentatively of him.

Anderson
was able to stand on his own. "I shouldn't have said that
... about my family," he said, huffing and wheezing. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a wet handkerchief, then held it to his face. "I think my
... ow
... nose is broken."

Sam shook his head. He knew when and how to break a nose, and when to leave it in one piece. "You'll be fine. Maybe sore."

"Yes. Sore. Black and blue, too."