The Island of Dangerous Dreams (9 page)

Someone was walking on the veranda, moving very slowly toward the open doors of my room.

There was nothing I could do but wait and watch. My eyelids were glued upward, my steady gaze on the open doorway.

Another creak of boards, and a white figure appeared, silhouetted against the night. Before I could move it swooped toward me. I opened my
mouth to scream, but all that came out was a kind of deep, scratchy gasp.

“Andrea!” the white figure whispered. “It’s just me! Benita!”

I scrambled to a sitting position, and she perched on the edge of my bed. “Your doors were open. How in the world could you sleep with your doors open? Did you know they were open? Well, of course you did.”

“What’s the matter?” I managed to whisper back. “Why did you wake me up?”

“I’m sorry I woke you,” she murmured. “Well, I’m not really, because I had to wake someone, and your doors were the only ones open. Weren’t you afraid to leave them open?”

“Why did you have to wake someone?” I wanted to get her back on the track. I was catching her jitters, and I didn’t want them.

“Because of the noise in the room on the far side of mine. Norton’s room.”

“What kind of a noise?”

She thought a moment, then whispered, “I don’t know how to describe it. It was a coughing kind of noise.”

I sighed and hugged my knees, wishing Benita would go away. I’d probably never get back to sleep after the scare she had given me, but I didn’t feel like spending the night baby-sitting her. “There’s nothing unusual about someone coughing.”

“It didn’t seem right.”

I sighed. “Did you hear anything else?”

She shook her head. “No. In spite of the
louvered doors, the rooms seem to be fairly well shielded from noise.” She ducked her head a minute and I could hardly hear her add, “Of course I had my louvers firmly closed and locked.”

“Then all you heard was a cough,” I said.

“No. I said it was
like
a cough.”

“Do you want to investigate?”

“Not by myself! Someone has to come with me.”

“Okay,” I said. “I will.” I swung my legs out of bed and stood up, waiting for her to follow. Neither of us spoke as we walked as silently as we could down the veranda in our bare feet. We passed Benita’s room. The doors were shut, but I could see light through the slits in the louvers.

I glanced toward it, and she whispered, “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to turn the lantern on again, once I’d turned it off, so I just left it on.”

I held a finger up to my lip and paused by the doors on the other side of Benita’s room. The louvers were tightly shut. Just as she stepped up beside me we heard the door to the hallway open and shut. She gave a start and clutched my arm.

“If you want to ask Norton about his cough, you can probably find him downstairs,” I said, and peeled her fingers from my arm.

“I—I feel a little silly,” she stammered.

“Forget it. We’re all pretty jumpy.”

I turned and walked to the doors of her room and waited. Breathlessly she murmured, “Would you like to come in and visit a little while?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “I want to get back to sleep.”

“You’re sure everything is all right?” she asked.

“It has to be.”

She looked like a small child prepared to fight dragons in the dark as she threw open one of the doors and disappeared into the flat, yellow light. Quickly she shut the door, and I could hear the lock slip into place.

In panic I realized that I was standing alone in the dark and ran back to my room, resisting the temptation to bolt the outside doors as Benita had done. I tried to sleep, but wooden houses move and stretch in the night like the shades of old dinosaurs with aching bones, and I heard every sound.

Soon the sky lightened to gray, and then to a pale, clear, cloudless blue. I got up and pulled on my still-damp swimsuit, shivering as it stretched over my bed-warm skin. I tossed on a shirt, buttoning it up to the neck, grabbed a towel and the fins Ellison had lent me, and hurried out to the beach.

I met no one in the house and no one outside. I kept my back to the house just in case someone was watching as I unfastened my shirt and dropped it on the dock. The towel I took with me, draping it around my neck, over the ribbon. I quickly eased into the water, still surprisingly warm, and pulled on the fins. I needed those fins for speed, especially since the weight of the towel would hold me back.

As fast as I could swim I headed west, rounding the point, glad when I caught sight of the limestone promontory. The tide was up, so I dived more deeply to swim under the arch and from there into the cave. I climbed up on the ledge,
took off my fins, and wrung as much water as I could out of the towel.

Walking gingerly on the rough limestone, I found a perfect niche deep in one of the near ledges. I took off the topaz, trying to keep my eyes from those of the monkey with the sharp golden paws, and wrapped it in the towel. I was taking no chances of having the artifact slip into a crevice in the rock or having some hermit crab scuttle away with it. Firmly I wedged the package into the niche and checked it carefully, finally satisfied that the artifact would be safe.

I made my way to the edge, tugged on my fins again, and jumped into the water.

On the way back to the dock I didn’t take time to enjoy the undersea color. I suppose I didn’t even notice it. I was relieved that the artifact was in a place where no one would find it, and reluctant to go back to face the others. The murderer—and it was a pretty sure thing that the judge had been murdered—was still in the house, but none of us had any idea who he could be.

He
, I thought.
Why do I keep saying “he”?
There were three women in the group who could be suspect. No, two. I knew I wasn’t the murderer, and surely Aunt Madelyn couldn’t be. Benita seemed to be the most upset by the whole thing. She couldn’t be the murderer—unless she was putting on an act, which was entirely possible.

As I swam I tried to think about each of the people in the judge’s party. None of them looked or acted like a murderer, but one of them was. In movies or on television they cast people with
sneaky, ferretlike faces or gorillalike bodies to play the villains, and they have cruel, deep-set eyes. It’s easy to tell the bad guys from the good guys. Why couldn’t life be that easy to figure out?

I climbed up on the dock, again shaking the water out of my hair, pulled on my shirt, and headed for the house. Benita, wearing a sundress, was seated in one of the wicker rockers on the lower veranda, drinking steaming coffee and fanning herself vigorously as little beads of sweat popped out on her forehead and upper lip.

“Have a nice swim?” she asked, as though our midnight conversation had never taken place.

“Great. The water is wonderful.” I paused and added, “You seem to be feeling much better now.”

“Well, of course I am,” she snapped. “Last night — I suppose that everything seems more ominous at night. Besides, you’re the one who insisted that everything was all right.”

Maybe I had expected to be thanked for getting up in the night with her and allaying her fears. I should have known better.

“Where’s your towel?” She put down her cup and looked at me quizzically.

“I should have brought one,” I began, but she shook her head impatiently.

“You did. I saw you walk down to the dock about an hour ago, and you were carrying a towel.”

“Darn!” I said, hoping that she couldn’t see how her question had shaken me. “What happened to it?”

She shrugged. “It probably blew off the dock. Well, hurry in. You’re not too late for breakfast.”

Had I dreamed last night? I couldn’t have. “How is Norton feeling this morning?”

“Norton? I have no idea. He hasn’t come down for breakfast yet.”

“You were worried about him last night.”

She blinked with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. Why do problems seem so much worse in the middle of the night?”

“Is everyone else up?” I asked.

She sighed. “I don’t know. I really didn’t feel like talking to anyone this morning.” She hoisted herself out of the rocker. “I think I’ll get another cup of coffee. Too much caffeine, but at a time like this, who cares?” She went inside.

I was still dripping, so I walked to the east end of the veranda and stood in the sun. And I felt that strange sensation again. I felt eyes upon me as distinctly as I could feel the dry tickle of drying salt water on my skin. I stared at the woods so intently, I thought I saw a bush move, a shadow fall back, but the feeling of being watched remained, so I turned and ran down the veranda, hurrying into the front door of the house.

After I had showered and changed to an old fun-run T-shirt and faded denim shorts, I went into the dining room to see what I could find to eat. Aldo and Kurt were sitting together. They stopped talking as I came in and greeted me somewhat glumly.
Tomorrow afternoon the boat will come back
, I told myself,
the police will be called, and eventually all of us here at the house will be able to get away from each other
.

On the sideboard was a large platter of Danish
rolls and cinnamon buns, a pitcher of orange juice, and a pot of coffee. I held up the coffeepot. “Did Ellison fix the generator?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Kurt said, “but he’s working on it. The coffee was made on the butane stove, and I’m afraid that it’s getting a little cold.”

I helped myself to some juice and rolls and took a seat across from Aldo.

“You had a swim,” he said. “How was the water?”

Another watcher? Then I remembered that my hair was still damp. I suppressed a nervous giggle. “Beautiful,” I said. “You ought to go for a swim. Ellison has all the snorkel equipment you’d need.” I took a large bite of the Danish, squirting cherry glop on my chin.

At first, as I mopped off my face, I was angry at Aldo for laughing, but then he said. “You are so much like my daughter, Elizabeth. I remember her trying hard to be sophisticated and grown-up, then doing something like that—something a child would do.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, then what he said penetrated. “You
remember
your daughter? I hope—”

“My wife and I were divorced five years ago, and my daughter lives with her mother in New Jersey,” he said. “I see Elizabeth whenever I get a chance. Unfortunately, the pressures of my job are very demanding.”

“Is it worth it?” I asked.

“If you were in business, you wouldn’t ask that question,” he said. “People have two lives, one in
the business world, one in their own private world.”

“It shouldn’t have to be that way,” I said.

Kurt butted in. “But it does. You’re too young to understand.”

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t agree with them.

Aldo sighed as he pushed back his chair. “I had promised Elizabeth I’d be on hand for her birthday party Sunday afternoon. Now I can’t even inform her that my plans have changed.”

As Aldo left the room Kurt poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down across from me.

“Did you sleep all right last night?”

“Not all night,” I said. “Benita came into my room, because I’d left the veranda doors open. She wanted someone to talk to.”

There was a slight change in his face, and I was glad I’d answered openly and truthfully, because he knew. “What did she want to talk about?” He took a long sip of coffee, staring down into the cup.

“She was worried about Norton,” I said. “She heard something that frightened her.”

He looked up quickly. “What?”

I laughed. “You won’t believe it. She heard him cough.”

“A cough? Is that all?”

“That’s it. She was so frightened she was ready to jump at anything. I talked to her awhile and finally convinced her she should go back to bed, so she did.”

He shook his head slowly. “She has a right to be
frightened. I feel so badly about all this. I think—I think I’d better try to make that swim.”

“You can’t do that” I leaned toward him eagerly. “Is there another boat on the island? Maybe some old sailboat or something? Anything that could float?”

“Not a thing,” he answered.

Madelyn and Benita came into the room. Madelyn bent and kissed the top of my head.

“Would you like me to get some coffee for you?” I asked her.

“I’ve had breakfast, thanks,” she said. “I was wondering—well, I just don’t know what to do next. Maybe we should hold a meeting. They’ve all come down, haven’t they?”

“Everyone except Norton,” Kurt said. He looked at me and I knew we were thinking the same thing. “I’ll check on him.”

I was right behind him as he took the stairs two at a time, strode down the hall, and knocked at Norton’s door. There was no answer. He tried the knob, and the door opened easily.

“He didn’t lock it?” I asked.

But Kurt was pushing me back. I tried to peer over his shoulder, but he roughly shoved me aside and slammed the door in my face, yelling, “Stay out!”

Madelyn and Benita came running up the stairs. Aldo opened the door to his room and leaned out, staring at me quizzically.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

Kurt opened the door and stepped into the hall,
closing it firmly behind him. He looked a little sick as he said, “The man is dead.”

Benita began to tremble. “Are you going to tell us that Norton was murdered?”

“The man in that room isn’t Norton Lindsay,” Kurt began, but the rest of his sentence was drowned out as Benita threw herself into a full-blown case of hysterics.

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