The Island of Dangerous Dreams (8 page)

“Lantern?” Benita perked up. “You mean you’ve got some other sources of light beyond these pitiful candles?”

“Yes, Miz Robley,” Ellison said. “We got a couple of lanterns and some flashlights. Soon as we take care of everything, I get them for you.”

“Thank goodness!” Benita dropped onto the nearest sofa and laid a hand over her heart. “This has been exhausting! I am absolutely longing to get to bed!”

“While Justin is left lying here on the floor?” Madelyn asked. Benita gave a little shriek, and Madelyn turned to Ellison. “You know this place the best. What can we do with his body?”

“There’s a walk-in freezer,” Ellison said. “We can use that.”

“That sounds like a sensible idea,” Aldo said, but I interrupted.

“When a crime is committed, aren’t you supposed to leave everything the way it was until the police come so they can look for clues?”

“In a case like this, no,” Kurt said. “It’s more important to take care of the body.”

“Besides,” Madelyn said, “what clues could there be, except for the lamp? Each of us had access to the room and to the lamp, and when the crime happened we were all present.”

“No, we weren’t,” I said. “Kurt and Ellison weren’t here. They were in the kitchen.”

They looked at each other. “Maybe so,” Ellison said. “I think Mr. Cameron may be in the kitchen, but I wasn’t there. I was in the bathroom.”

Benita put her hands against her ears and squeezed her eyelids tightly shut. “Stop it! Stop it! I can’t stand all this!” she cried. “Everybody’s accusing everyone else, and we don’t know who the murderer is!”

“
If
there was a murder,” I mumbled.

She ignored me, wailed, “I’m frightened!” and began to cry.

Norton pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, shoved it into one of her hands, then stood by and looked uncomfortable.

“Come on,” Kurt said to the others as he bent to tug over the small area rug, “lend me a hand. If we roll the body onto this, we can carry it or drag it into the freezer.”

“Wait a minute,” I told them. “At least let me take some pictures of—of the judge with my camera.”

“There’s not enough light,” Aldo said.

“Ellison could bring in the lanterns,” Benita suggested.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “The camera has a good flash, and it’s loaded with superfast film. I can get some clear pictures.”

“It’s a waste of time,” Norton grumbled. He stepped forward and said to Kurt, “Let’s get this job over with.”

“No!” Madelyn took command. “We’ll want the
police to know that we tried to cooperate in every way possible. I think Andrea’s suggestion is a good one. Please wait, and I’ll get the camera from my room.” She picked up a candle and went upstairs with such authority that no one moved.

Benita sniffled a few more times, ruining Norton’s handkerchief with her runny mascara. Norton walked to the open veranda doors and stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, probably hoping that if he looked hard enough, he could see help coming. Aldo stood silently, as closed in as a cupboard with locked doors. Ellison sat on the nearest chair, hands clasped between his knees, and Kurt stepped back, so that his features weren’t in the direct light, but I could see him carefully and slowly studying the others.

Aunt Madelyn returned quickly with the camera, and I took six or seven pictures of the judge’s body, aiming from different directions. Once I pointed the camera upward and Norton snapped, “Stick to the subject. You don’t need snapshots of the rest of us.”

It was a horrible job. I hated to look. I began to feel sick to my stomach.

Finally Aldo took my shoulders and steered me away from the body, “That’s enough,” he said. He motioned to Kurt to join him and he bent over, clasping the judge under his arms. Ellison came to help. Reluctantly, Norton edged toward them, waited until they had positioned the judge’s body on the rug, and gingerly took hold of one of the four corners.

“Through the dining room and the kitchen,”
Kurt said “The door to the walk-in freezer is at the far end of the kitchen.”

With a great deal of grunting and puffing, they managed to hoist the makeshift litter and stagger with it out of the room.

Benita blew her nose and glanced around to make sure no one besides the three of us was in earshot. “Madelyn!” she hissed. “I’m terrified! I want to sleep in your room!”

“You can’t,” Madelyn said. “My room has only one twin bed.”

“I don’t care! I’ll sleep on the floor!”

“Benita, dear, I greatly value my privacy. You can sleep in your own room and in your bed.”

“But the murderer—”

“We’re not sure that Justin was murdered. And if he was, whoever murdered him is not going to murder you.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Madelyn. You have no way of knowing that!”

“Think about it. Be logical. Suppose that Justin
was
murdered. During the confusion the artifact disappeared. Therefore, the murderer has what he was after.”

“Oh.” Benita sank back against the cushions on the sofa.

“Not necessarily,” I said.

They both turned to stare at me, and I added, “Well, you’re guessing, aren’t you? You can’t be sure where the artifact is, because it didn’t show up. Maybe the murderer has the artifact, maybe not.”

Benita made a funny noise in the back of her
throat, and Aunt Madelyn snapped, “Oh, honestly, Andrea! Just when I had her calmed down!”

“In spite of what happened, I see no reason for any of us to fear the others.” Aldo spoke from the doorway to the dining room, and I could see Norton and Kurt standing beside him.

“Oh no?” Norton sneered. “There’s a good possibility that a murderer is in our midst, we’re trapped on this island, and you see no reason for any of us to be afraid?”

“I agree with Norton,” Madelyn said quickly, sneaking a quick look at Benita. “The only possible reason for murder was to obtain the artifact. That seems to have been accomplished.”

Kurt stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Benita, that this happened and that you’re so frightened. Since I worked for the judge I feel responsible for doing whatever I can to help. In the morning I’ll try to swim to the nearest inhabited island.”

“You can’t!” I exclaimed.

Madelyn scowled. “I thought you said it was too far away. Are you a good swimmer?”

Kurt shrugged. “Fair. I can hold my own in the water. That’s about it.”

She looked at me. “Didn’t you say there are sharks in the water?”

“Yes,” I said, “and barracuda too.”

“Then we’ll rule that out as totally impractical,” Madelyn told him. “It would be stupid for you to take such a desperate chance and probably lose your life.” Maybe she realized how harsh she sounded, because her voice softened a bit and she
added, “Although the offer was a gracious gesture on your part.”

Norton glared at her. I knew he wouldn’t care who did what as long as he got off this island.

“Look out ahead,” Ellison called, and as the men in the doorway parted he came in laden with the lanterns and flashlights he had promised. Each of them took what was wanted, which left me with candlelight.

“Sorry,” Kurt said. He held up his candlestick to show that we were both at the bottom of the list. “There weren’t enough to go around.”

“Candles are fine if I can have a spare,” I said.

I hung my camera strap around my neck, picked up one of the lit candles in its holder, two others, and a book of matches and walked toward the stairs, carefully shielding my candle flame, which jumped so wildly that it threatened to go out. “See you in the morning,” I said to the others.

“Where are you going?” Madelyn asked me.

“To bed,” I said. “I don’t think there’s anything else left to do, is there?”

“Why, no, I guess not,” she answered.

Benita scurried to catch up with me. She held her lantern carefully out in front of her, where its beam of light slammed into shadows and sent them sprawling. “Wait for me. I’ll go up with you.”

“I will too,” Madelyn suddenly decided, and joined us on the stairs.

At the door to Benita’s room we practically had to peel her off and show her how to lock her door.

Then we came to mine.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Madelyn
asked me, and I could see the real concern in her eyes.

“As all right as it’s possible to be.”

“You can sleep in my room if you want to.”

I knew that was offering a lot. Madelyn was right when she said she valued her privacy. I touched her arm. “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate the offer, but my door has a good lock on it too.”

“Be sure you keep the veranda doors tightly locked also.”

I nodded, but I had no intention of doing so. Without the breeze from the sea the room would be suffocatingly hot.

Madelyn rested a hand on my arm. “Perhaps I should have paid attention to your hunch,” she said. “I’m sorry that I brought you into this.”

“You couldn’t have known what would happen,” I told her.

She took a long breath. “I know I must seem harsh to you, but the Sartington—my position as curator—they mean everything to me. Maybe I should have left room in my life for other pursuits, but …” She stopped and shook her head. “My life is my work. There’s no place in it for much more. Your mother—you—I do care for you. Oh, Andrea, I hope that you understand.”

I still didn’t feel comfortable with Aunt Madelyn, but I told her that I did understand. It seemed to be what she needed to hear, and at this moment I felt terribly sorry for her. “Good night, Aunt Madelyn,” I added, and for the first time gave her a tentative kiss that landed somewhere in the air near her left ear.

“Thank you, Andrea,” she said, looking pleased. “Good night.”

I went into my room, still carefully shielding my candle flame, and firmly locked the door. The veranda doors were wide open to the night, as I had left them. I placed the candle holder, the extra candles, and the matches on the chest of drawers next to my bed and closed the veranda doors, locking them and making sure that the shutters were snugly shut.

Then I sat on the edge of the bed, close to the candlelight, reached into the deep, right-hand pocket of my skirt, and slowly pulled out the glimmering Peruvian artifact.

7

The topaz lay in my palm like a scooped-up handful of clear, turquoise seawater, glowing in the candlelight. But as the flame flickered the tiny monkey that gripped the stone seemed to move, and I could almost swear that he grinned as his eyes stared directly into mine. I kept my eyes away from him. He was primitive, roughly fashioned, and terrifying.

I couldn’t believe that the artifact was in my possession. I hadn’t intended it to be. Everything during that horrible moment in the living room had happened so quickly that I had reacted instinctively, clutching the stone and dropping to the floor as the darkness and sounds of death slammed into us. At some moment I realized that I was holding the stone and shoved it into my pocket. The artifact shouldn’t be claimed by any of these greedy collectors, including my own Aunt Madelyn. It belonged to the people of Peru. Somehow,
I was going to see that it was returned to them.

How?
I wondered. Well, one thing at a time. I wouldn’t worry about that now. At the moment there was only one thing to be concerned about. The murderer wanted that artifact. If he had killed for it, then sooner or later he was going to come looking for it. I would have to find a good place in which to hide it, but for the moment the safest place was on my body.

I rummaged through my overnight case and pulled out a narrow blue ribbon. I ran the ribbon through the loop made by the monkey’s tail and tied the ends together. Then I slipped the ribbon over my head and changed into my red-striped cotton pajamas. I tucked the topaz underneath, between my breasts, the sharp little monkey paws scratching my skin. No one else would know that it was there.

The room was getting awfully stuffy, and I moved to the veranda doors. But I paused before opening them. With my room wide open to the night, I’d be vulnerable to anyone who came prowling. Shivering, in spite of the heat, I rested my head against their shutters. No one had suspected me. They seemed to be too busy suspecting each other. My best defense was innocence. I could open just a few of the shutters, but by opening my doors I would seem to have nothing to hide.

With trembling fingers I unlatched the doors and swung them wide. Clouds had covered the moon, so the veranda was a dark, shadowless void
in which anyone could hide. I listened and thought I heard a footstep, a board that creaked under someone’s weight.

Don’t be dramatic
, I told myself, as though I were Mom. Stumbling, shivering, I managed to make it into bed and blew out the candlelight. If only this were my own bed at home!

As my eyes became accustomed to the darkness I began to calm down. I could see outlines now of pillars and tree branches against a sky that was softer and less foreboding. Down on the beach wavelets made a rhythmic, comforting, shushing slap against the sand, and the breeze from the sea was cool. My eyes closed, I relaxed, and soon I was asleep.

I don’t know how long I slept. I awoke hearing a squeaking sound that could have been part of the dream that fled from me while I tried to grab at its edges. Rick. The dream had been about Rick, but I was left with nothing but a lonely ache that also must have been part of the dream. The squeak came again. Confusion dissolved as I woke with a start, sucking in air and holding it, afraid even to breathe.