The House at Sandalwood (19 page)

Stephen’s worry about Deirdre that night managed to prevent him from a violent confrontation with Victor Berringer, whose reckless speed had brought on Deirdre’s attack. Berringer tried to make up for it by tying his boat to ours and speeding our boat to the Kaiana Hilton’s dock on the northwest coast of the island we had just left, while Stephen protected his wife’s body from jolts and the rolling of the boat. Shortly after, Deirdre began to shiver uncontrollably. We wrapped her in every warm bit of clothing we could collect from each other, but her condition remained the same.

At the big, new, terraced hotel we were lucky enough to find a Dr. Henry Lum who had just been called in to treat a stout tourist with acute gastritis. Stephen would not leave the hotel bedroom where Dr. Lum examined Deirdre and managed to stop her pain without putting her under heavy sedation. Mr. Berringer and Bill Pelhitt remained with me as I drank coffee and hoped for Deirdre’s recovery.

When Stephen came out to us endless minutes later, he explained that they were flying Deirdre to a hospital in Honolulu for further tests and treatment. “It appears to be some sort of nervous attack, Judith. Thank God, this doctor is pretty sure it wasn’t her heart.”

“In her girlhood Deirdre had something our doctor called palpitations, but he said it wasn’t too serious at that time,” I put in, hearing my voice high-pitched and tense. It would not help if I broke down. I stiffened my back and cleared my throat.

“Then the young lady is recovering? That’s good news,” Berringer put in when I found my throat so dry and tight with tension that I couldn’t express my own happiness at the relief of our worst fears.

Stephen explained to Berringer with a slight emphasis, “As Miss Cameron says, my wife has had a weakened heart since an illness in her childhood. Judith, you will be coming with us? I’ve hired a plane.”

I shook my head. It wouldn’t help Deidre’s recovery if she awoke to see me there with her husband. Meanwhile, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to be within reach in order to hear of any changes in Deirdre’s condition. She must recover, I thought. She
must
live and enjoy her life after all the uncertainties and illnesses of her past.

William Pelhitt spoke for the first time since Stephen had joined up. After Victor Berringer had joined our group he had crawled back into his shell and was now looking out furtively to see which way the wind lay.

“We—that is—Vic and I could take you back to Ili-Ahi, and you could be handy there for phone calls or whatever,” he told me.

I tried to explain to Stephen, who proved the biggest obstacle to a calm awareness of the situation. The strain he was under showed not only in his face but was also indicated by his anger, his quick-triggered temper.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Deirdre can’t get along without you. You know that. And I need you.” Berringer, who had been gazing out at the pools of artificial light in the gardens, seemed to be caught by this last remark. His head raised. His pale eyes fixed on Stephen, who was much too angry to care. “You know I need your influence with my wife; so stop being so stubborn about it. Come along. Where is that thing you were wearing around your waist? Is it still in the room with Deirdre? Will you be cold?”

To avoid quarrelling in front of these two interested and no doubt hostile witnesses, I said as quietly as I could, “I’ll go with you and kiss Deirdre good night. Maybe I can keep her from worrying about her condition.” As we left the room, I looked back. The two men said nothing to each other. They might have been in different rooms, except that Pelhitt had his typical nervous tension about Berringer.

In the hall Stephen walked rapidly, taking my arm. I don’t think he knew how fast he was walking. I had to run to keep beside him.

“She will be all right ... won’t she? Deirdre is going to be fine after a rest?”

“God, I don’t know! She looked so little there. So helpless. Like a kitten. Hurt and shivering...”

In our mutual concern we understood each other and said nothing more until we reached Deirdre’s room, where the doctor had called in his nurse, a cool, efficient Chinese woman who looked as though nothing could sway or upset her. She seemed perfectly suited to her task.

Dr. Henry Lum was in the bathroom giving orders to two ambulance attendants. Deirdre looked drained, her young face still pallid, her eyes glittering and bright, but with a stiff look around her mouth, as if the memory of pain was still there. I assumed that whatever drugs had been given her had not dimmed her nervous energy. I left Stephen and went around to the other side of the bed where the nurse sat in a stiff, ladder-back chair. She glanced at me without expression. Stephen kissed his wife and kept her hand in his while Deirdre, obviously happy, turned her head on the high-piled pillows and looked at me.

“Wasn’t that dumb of me? I got scared of Mr. Berringer.”

“Why not?” I asked her, trying to ease the fright of that near collision. I smiled. “You were smart—you reacted first. But you’re going to be all right now. Your husband will take you back to Honolulu. If you do everything the doctor tells you, you will have all that nice time together, you and Stephen. Like a second honeymoon.”

Her face clouded slightly. I wondered if I had gone too far in trying to reassure her.

“That will be
loverly
.” She grinned in her little-girl way. Then her free hand curled up and her forefinger beckoned me closer.

“Thank you, dear Judy. But you won’t go far?” She was whispering now. The grin faded. “Judy? Where are you going now?”

“I’ll go back and see about the meals and the cleaning at Sandalwood. I’ll keep busy.”

“No!” Everyone in the room jumped at the tone of her voice. I think I was more startled than anyone else.

“You are the mistress of that house, Deirdre. If you don’t want me there, I won’t go.”

Her fingers clawed at my arm, pulling me closer. She whispered, “Don’t go to the island alone. Not you, Judy. Please.” Bewildered, I backed away, stammering some sort of promise. I was terrified for fear I had somehow brought on another bout of palpitations.

Deirdre’s shrill “No!” had brought the doctor into the bedroom. He shooed me out impatiently.

“You are in the way. Only the lady’s husband should be present. Please go now.”

I looked at Deirdre. She nodded to me. “Thanks, Judy ... for understanding.” Her tired smile flickered at me.

I kissed her forehead and then, passing Stephen, I left the room. Victor Berringer was in the hall, looking indifferent to my arrival, yet he was apparently expecting me.

“I see you have decided to be discreet, Miss Cameron,” he remarked cryptically, taking for granted that I would return to Ili-Ahi with William Pelhitt and himself, my chilly escort. He was implying, of course, that it was best for me not to remain with Stephen.

I was angered by this and felt as though I were being pulled between this man and the equally stubborn Stephen Giles. I suspected the root of Stephen’s interest in me. He was drawn to me by our common love for my niece, and perhaps a little because he found he had married a girl with a child’s emotions and realized that I was more mature. But he loved Deirdre. I felt certain that he did, and I meant to put no more obstacles in the way of their marriage.

Victor Berringer’s interest in me was probably more sinister. I had little doubt that he believe me an accomplice, or at the very least, a witness to some plot against his daughter, since he had no real certainty that I had just arrived at Ili-Ahi. I decided, however, that there was no reason why I should have any difficulty in dealing with him. It also occurred to me that I couldn’t stay at the Kaiana Hilton tonight in my badly water-stained dress, which I had torn during our attempt at easing Deirdre’s pain in the boat.

I shrugged at Berringer’s cryptic remark and went along with him. We picked up William Pelhitt in one of the terrace lobbies and drove around the island to the north coast, where a trio of local youngsters were prowling around the two speedboats moored at the rickety landing. The state of this pier and the shed seemed to indicate to me one of the reasons why Stephen Giles was working so hard. He had recovered some of the power and the labor which had been lost by his impractical father, but ready cash was still a problem. When Stephen had married Deirdre, my brother’s legal firm had kept a close watch on withdrawals from her estate. Except for a reasonable allowance of her own, Deirdre had never called upon any other monies. Since her marriage there were no withdrawals at all except near Stephen’s birthday when Deirdre wrote asking for her allowance. From the date of her marriage to the present, her allowance had remained in the banks, drawing interest. I admired Stephen more than ever as I realized how he might have used that money legally, yet he had not done so. His father’s failure was undoubtedly the motivating factor for him, giving him the pride that demanded he accomplish everything on his own.

The boats themselves were good-looking and recently painted, but Berringer grumbled. “If I intended to stay on that accursed island, I’d get one of those catamarans with a decent sail, and a couple of really fast boats.” He strode ahead of us along the little pier and William pulled me back.

“Why did he come over to Kaiana this late in the evening, do you think?”

I had no idea. I couldn’t entirely focus on this conversation. I kept wondering how Deirdre was doing. Would she be all right? How serious had the attack been? I asked Bill finally, “What did Mr. Berringer do while I was in my niece’s room?”

“Made a phone call.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”

I jumped nervously when I found Victor Berringer had turned and come back for us. He was almost at my elbow when he asked, “Are you coming?”

I nodded and William Pelhitt hustled along after us. I was rapidly beginning to understand this gray demon’s deadly effect on Pelhitt.

Berringer lifted me down and then let me find my own place in the boat. This time the lights were fixed to show us a clear path ahead, but we were also helped by the fact that the moon had risen and the low mist shrouding the bay was now gone.

I waited until Berringer had started the motor and we were zooming out across the bay before I said to him, “Too bad you weren’t able to carry out your plans tonight, Mr. Berringer.”

Berringer stared at me, and he smiled that peculiar, thin-lipped smile that had no connection whatever with his eyes. The only advantage of traveling with Victor Berringer was that we reached our destination in record time, even though we were soaked through by the spray of the churned-up bay.

William Pelhitt helped me up to the little wharf under the copper-shaded light and then tried to assist our navigator, who waved him aside impatiently. While I waited for the two men, I took a few steps toward the steep path to Sandalwood. The area was intensely dark. The moonlight hadn’t risen high enough to cut through the jungle vegetation only a few yards away. Pelhitt pointed over my shoulder at the gigantic
ape
-
ape
leaves flapping in the night air.

“Like elephant ears, aren’t they?”

They were so eerie. They reminded me of all the insect and bird life around us. During the next minute or two when I looked into that foliage in a gingerly way, it seemed that all the little creatures hidden in the midnight dark were softly rustling and moving through plant life that was entirely strange to me.

I was relieved when Victor Berringer joined us and we started up the path together. I felt that although he probably did not constitute a danger himself, he certainly was a formidable obstacle to any other dangers.

He asked me suddenly, “Will you be staying at Sandalwood alone tonight?”

“The servants will be there.” I wondered at his question. His manner did not suggest an interest or sympathy with my welfare.

“Then the servants do sleep at the main house?”

“Some do. Others, as you know, Mr. Berringer, go home to Kaiana or to the village across the island.”

We had passed beyond the tiny creek that crawled away through the jungle toward the thunderous gulch, and were climbing the last yards of the path with Sandalwood House above us. I was anxious to reach the privacy of my own room. At the same time I couldn’t help feeling some gratitude toward William Pelhitt and Berringer. Their presence was preferable to finding myself alone on the path at this hour.

The door beside the ground floor
lanai
was locked when Berringer tried it, but the front door opened easily under his hand. I ducked beneath his outstretched arm, thanked him and waved good night to William Pelhitt who had followed us up on the veranda. He gave me a half-hearted little salute. Berringer glanced from me to Bill Pelhitt, his pale eyebrows raised, then said brusquely to Pelhitt, “Well, come along. It’s an Olympic marathon to the local Hawaiian paradise.”

I locked the door as they stepped off the veranda and onto the grass before the
emu
, but I watched them until they were actually on the path to the Hawaiian village. I pitied William Pelhitt and disliked Berringer, and I supposed that was the extent of my feelings. But I was suspicious of them too. The only odd thing they did in those minutes after they left me was to start on a short-cut through the Sandalwood
heiau
with its unfinished bungalows. At the last second they swerved, turned and went the long way around the grove. Finally, their figures vanished in the foliage that threaded itself over their heads on the village path.

The hall lights were on downstairs. I was grateful for that, but with the electric situation what it was on Ili-Ahi, these lights were dim enough to conjure up shadows in every corner out of all proportion. I was ashamed of my own cowardice as I hurried past the empty, darkened living room. Hearing nothing that suggested anyone else might be present in the house, I began to wish I had gone back to Oahu with the plane that carried Deirdre and Stephen. Maybe I could then have gone out to stay with the Nagatas.

I started up the stairs, heard soft steps behind me, and nearly screamed as I grabbed at the bannister and swung around. Mr. Yee, Michiko’s uncle, stood on the bottom step, wrapped in a flannel bathrobe, yet managing to give an appearance of majestic disapproval.

“When it passed midnight, miss, it was thought you would all remain in Honolulu. May I ask—will Mr. Stephen and Mrs. Stephen be here for breakfast?”

“No,” I said. “I’m afraid not.” I took a long, uneven breath, wanting to laugh hysterically at the scare he had given me. I explained that Deirdre was ill in Honolulu.