I backpedaled and sat on the dry sand, wiggling my fanny until I was comfortable enough to concentrate on the horizon, one of my favorite focus points for meditation. No verbal mantra. No physical yoga or tai chi. Just the horizon, always present and always endless. It never failed to settle my mind into peaceful contemplation of nothing other than the meeting of sky and sea. The gentle lapping of the waves provided a cadence of serene harmony.
After twenty or so minutes, I closed my eyes, let the horizon recede while the events of the day slowly resurfaced in my freshly ordered mind. I stood, brushed the sand from my shorts and walked north toward the pier, my sandals bobbing and banging against my hip. I was a few yards away from the pier when the sun glinted off the gold letters on a red and blue striped shirt. There were bound to be any number of Messi fans roaming the island. Still, I noticed this Messi fan was part of a group surrounding a man in a bucket hat. I hurried closer, and as I stood next to the pier in a spot right below them, I recognized a voice from yesterday. Bucket Hat.
“Don’t worry about idle threats from silly old women. I told you, I know where the ship is and I guarantee no one is going to get between me and this treasure, especially not a broad so old that she could easily be dead and buried before we ever leave port.”
I gasped and took a quick step back from the pier. I looked up, hoping to memorize the faces of the men I hadn’t yet seen, and was startled to see Bucket Hat staring directly down at me. Without the mirrored glasses, his eyes were dangerously penetrating.
I ducked under the pier and out the other side, hurried up to the street and headed for home, looking over my shoulder the entire time.
Chapter Eight ||||||||||||||||||||
The apartment was happily quiet. Who knew how long that would last? Bridgy and Aunt Ophie were bound to be back soon. My cell! I turned it off when I began taking my walk, and I never turned it on again. By now Bridgy would be calling every five minutes, and getting more frantic each time voice mail picked up the call. As soon as I turned it on, the phone rang. I pushed “Talk” and began speaking without looking at the caller ID.
“I’m sorry. I know you hate when I turn my phone off. I needed time alone. But I have climbed the turret and am in for the night so I’ll be here when you get here.”
“Turret? Oh, I get it. Some sort of code for Prince Charming like in Rapunzel.” I couldn’t quite recognize the male voice. “When you feel like Cinderella, I guess ‘glass slipper’ is the code.” Ah, the mocking tone. Lieutenant Frank Anthony.
I was grateful he couldn’t see my reddening cheeks. I almost explained that I thought he was Bridgy but decided he didn’t deserve an explanation or even a conversation after he unceremoniously ordered me out of Augusta’s house. I settled on a crisp, no-nonsense, “How can I help you, Lieutenant?”
“Actually, I was calling to thank you for your assistance today. I think it was easier for us to talk to Miss Maddox because you stayed nearby. I got the impression from Ryan that she could be quite difficult if anyone stirred her feathers. So I’m grateful that the interview was no worse than it had to be under the circumstances.”
A few hours before I was some kind of annoyance and now he’s all nicey nice? I wondered what he really wanted.
“Miss Augusta is a unique and treasured friend, the same as Miss Delia was. I thought it was fitting that I stay with her.” I sniffed, hoping I sounded frosty rather than defensive.
“I’d like to interview you sometime tomorrow morning. I know you have a business to run . . .”
Interview? Like I was a suspect? What was I supposed to respond No problem, stop by anytime? Fat chance.
“Actually, we’re shorthanded at the café . . .”
“But you do want us to catch the killer.”