Under Gemini, page 7
“This is Helen Wilson.” Kent gestured to his companion. “She does all Carl’s PR.”
Helen Wilson held out her hand. “So you’re Meg Evans.”
Helen’s tone indicated she’d heard about Meg. “Do I know you?” As she shook Helen’s hand, Meg studied her. The woman didn’t look at all familiar. However, Helen was older than she’d at first thought, probably somewhere in her thirties.
Helen stepped aside to allow a couple to pass by and then turned back to Meg. “Ah, no, we don’t know each other. Kent mentioned your name on the way here. Didn’t you, Kent?
“I probably did.” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “How’s the job going, Meg?”
“Good. I like working with the artifacts.”
Kent frowned. “I understand you have someone working with you. I wasn’t aware Carl was hiring anyone else.”
“Yes, his name is Eric Richards.”
“Is he here?” Kent pulled his gaze away from Meg to scan the area.
“He’s the one over there talking to Carl.” She pointed to the other end of the pool, where the two men were deep in conversation.
“I’d like to meet him.”
Just then, Carl moved off to greet more new arrivals, and Eric looked around. His gaze lighted on Meg. She waved him over, and when he joined them, she introduced Helen first.
Helen held out her hand and beamed a wide smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
Eric clasped Helen’s hand, and the two gazed at each other.
Meg felt her stomach tighten. “This is Kent Gheller,” she said in a rush. “The man who interviewed and hired me.”
Eric finally dropped Helen’s hand and turned to Kent. “Nice to meet you, Kent.”
The two men began talking but their words didn’t penetrate Meg’s mind. She was busy analyzing her reaction to Eric and Helen.
You’re jealous.
Ridiculous. She had no interest in Eric. None whatsoever. And she certainly had no claim on him, not even after kissing him. Wait, she hadn’t kissed him. He’d kissed her—
“Meg?”
Helen’s voice broke into Meg’s thoughts. “Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you’d been in the pool yet.” She nodded toward the swimming pool where several guests were already testing the water.
“Ah, no. I’ve been looking forward to it, though.”
“Me, too. Think I’ll go change and take a dip now. Why don’t you join me? Or us, if I can convince these two to stop talking business and relax.” She laid a hand on Kent’s arm. “Come on, guys. Let’s do something fun.”
****
When Meg arrived back at the pool, she saw Helen poised to enter the water by the concrete stairs at the shallow end. Of course, she looked great in her blue, one-piece suit with the sides cut up to her waist.
The men were already in the water. Kent lounged against the side of the pool, bony elbows resting on the tiles, water dripping from his beard. Sunglasses hid his sad eyes.
Eric waded to the steps and reached up to assist Helen.
Helen grasped Eric’s hand, stepped daintily down the steps, and into the water.
When Meg came along, Eric again reached out.
Ignoring his gesture, she gripped the railing. “No, thanks. I’ll manage.” She stepped down onto the first step, slipped, lost her grip on the rail, and plunged into the pool. She sank below the surface and came up sputtering water.
Eric tossed back his head and laughed, but then he sobered and swam toward her. “Are you okay?”
“Of course, I’m okay.” Turning her back, she swam away.
Eric and Helen joined several other guests in tossing a large red ball. Kent stayed where he was, watching rather than participating.
Meg chose not to join in, either, but instead swam languidly around in small circles at the free end of the pool. The cool water refreshed her. Finally, she climbed from the pool, grabbed a towel, and headed for a pink-cushioned chaise lounge. She lay back, closed her eyes, and let the warm sun soak into her skin. The sounds of laughter and the clink of ice in glasses as the guests enjoyed their cocktails swirled around her.
“Mind if I join you?”
Meg opened her eyes to see Helen, a towel wrapped around her slender waist, water dripping from the ends of her shoulder-length hair. “Not at all. Have a seat.” Meg waved at the empty chaise lounge next to hers.
Helen settled onto the chaise, leaning back and stretching out her long legs. Beads of water glistened on her tanned skin. “Whew, that was a workout.”
“I know. I swam for a while but got tired and had to quit.”
Laureen approached, the sun reflecting brightly off her white slacks and tunic top, and asked if they wanted anything from the portable bar, where Burke, as usual, mixed the drinks.
“I’ll have a glass of white wine,” Meg said.
Helen waved a hand. “Burke knows what I like. Just tell him who it’s for.”
Laureen went off to place their orders, and Meg turned to Helen. “So, you’ve been here often.”
“Because Burke knows what I drink?” Helen leaned back against the cushions. “Yes, I have. Carl is famous for his parties. He loves to entertain.”
“Is he married?” Meg had wondered, but she hadn’t been brave enough to ask him. Her gaze caught their host now, moving from guest to guest like a politician working the room at a political rally. Hand outstretched, big smile, lots of backslapping.
Helen picked up her towel and dried the ends of her hair. “No, he never was. And no, he’s not gay. He says he’s not cut out for marriage. He has a special woman friend, Darla Costas. She’s an actress. Maybe you’ve heard of her.”
Meg nodded. “She starred in a play I saw at The Rep.”
“Uh huh. I expect she’ll be here, eventually. But what about you? Are you married?”
“Divorced. You?”
“I’m still looking for Mr. Right.” Her gaze strayed to the pool.
Helen’s laugh sounded forced. Meg checked to see what held her attention. The pool was empty now, except for Eric, lazily swimming laps. He stopped and swiped the water from his eyes. He looked their way, grinned, and gave a salute.
“Eric seems nice.” Helen cast Meg a sideways look. “Are you and he…?”
Meg flicked her hand as though brushing away a troublesome fly. “Heavens, no. We only work together. We met a few days ago when Jones picked us up on Orcas. But what about Kent?”
“He has a wife.”
“Did she come to the party?”
Helen grabbed a cushion from a nearby chair and stuck it behind her head. “No. She’s not much for parties. She’s from Sukarla. The Middle Eastern country where a war is going on?”
Meg nodded. The war in Sukarla, in which the United States was involved, had dominated the news for the past few months.
Helen sat up and leaned toward Meg. Her hair, almost dry now, swung forward like a curtain. “Kent told me all her family over there were killed,” she said in subdued tones. “She would have been killed, too, because she was visiting, but she got out just before the war started.”
“That was lucky.”
“Wasn’t it? Kent adores her. You should see them together.”
“Really?” Meg swung her glance toward Kent. “He doesn’t seem the overly demonstrative type.”
Helen leaned back again and adjusted the cushion behind her head. “He is where she’s concerned.”
“Kent seems very intense about his job.”
“Oh, yes. He works hard for Carl. We all do.”
Laureen arrived with their drinks, and Helen turned away to pluck hers from the tray.
****
Ready for dinner, Meg stepped off the path and onto the patio at the main house. After the sumptuous brunch, she thought she’d never be hungry again, but the hours she’d put in at the museum this afternoon had whetted her appetite.
Most of the guests were already seated at the round tables, and Eric and Helen sat together. Wearing a strapless yellow dress, Helen sipped a drink in a tall glass with a tiny paper umbrella. Eric, in jeans and a short-sleeved brown shirt, drank his beer from the bottle.
The remaining places at their table were empty, but Meg turned in the opposite direction. No way would she join them. Let them spend the entire evening together. Who cared? She had no claim on Eric. Didn’t want to have. So what if he paid attention to Helen?
She joined the line at the buffet table. The array of food looked and smelled wonderful, and she filled her plate with roasted chicken, couscous, tossed salad, and fresh fruit. Spying Carl’s computer expert, she sat with Lester. Also at his table was a middle-aged couple, Addie and Norm Bolton. In matching Hawaiian print shirts and khaki slacks, they might have been twins, but for their difference in size. While Addie was petite and thin, Norm was burly with a stomach the size of a beach ball.
“So what do you two do for Fortune Industries?” Meg asked as she lifted her fork.
“Norm is Carl’s Director of Overseas Operations,” Addie announced, her eyes gleaming with pride. She smoothed her dyed red hair, jingling her charm bracelet.
“Is that right?” Interested in learning more, Meg turned to Norm.
His mouth stuffed with food, Norm nodded.
“Norm’s gone a lot.” Addie cut into her chicken drumstick. “But I’m glad he was here for Carl’s party. I love Carl’s parties, and I hate to attend alone.” She leaned toward Meg. “Are you here alone, dear?”
Meg finished a bite of salad, savoring the tangy dressing. “Yes. I’m here for a few weeks cataloging Carl’s artifacts.”
Addie wrinkled her nose. “Working in Carl’s stuffy old museum.”
“The work is interesting.
“If you like that sort of thing.” Addie grinned. “I’m more a people person.”
Lester waved his knife. “Watch out for her, Meg. She’ll have you matched up with someone before you know it.”
Lester was dressed in denim, as usual, with his black-framed eyeglasses perched precariously on his thin nose. His hair still resembled a bird’s nest, but Meg had decided the look was intentional, rather than accidental.
Addie frowned at Lester. “All except you.”
Lester put his knife to work layering butter on a piece of sourdough bread. “I already have a girlfriend.”
“So you say.” Addie sniffed. “I’ve never seen her.”
“Doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist. She lives in Canada.”
“That’s not far away from here. You should’ve invited her to the party. Carl wouldn’t mind.”
“She’s busy this weekend.” Lester took a generous bite of the bread.
“I like to see people happy, like I am.” Addie favored Norm with an affectionate look.
“Addie means well,” Norm said before shoveling in a forkful of potato salad.
“I do.” His wife nodded. “You’re gone so much, and with the kids grown and living away, I need something to keep me occupied.”
Meg made a dismissive wave. “Don’t waste your time on me. I’m not looking for anyone.”
Sipping from her glass, Addie raised her eyebrows. “Bad marriage?”
Meg looked down at her plate. “Yes, as it turned out.”
“Now, Addie, don’t pry,” Norm cautioned with a narrowed gaze.
“I’m not.” Addie pushed out her lower lip. “I’m just making conversation. Besides, I have others I’m working for.”
“Working on, you mean,” Lester said. “Like Helen Wilson.”
Addie shook her head. “Poor Helen. She recently lost her love. He passed away. I don’t even know who he was or what he died from.”
“Oh?” Addie’s revelation piqued Meg’s curiosity, and she glanced to where the woman sat.
“He died while we were on our trip to Saudi.” Addie touched her napkin to her lips. “When the weather got unbearable, I came home to find Helen in mourning. When I attempted to comfort her, she said she didn’t want to talk about it.”
“She looks like she’s recovering pretty good now.” Lester nodded to the table where Helen and Eric sat, their heads together and laughing like old friends.
Addie smacked her lips. “My, my, who is the delicious-looking man with Helen?”
“An expert Carl imported to help with his precious artifacts,” Lester said.
“His name is Eric Richards,” Meg supplied. “He’s also a computer software consultant, or something like that.” She wasn’t exactly certain about Eric’s profession.
“He is definitely too handsome to be shut up in a musty old museum.” Addie chuckled.
“Hey, Addie,” Norm said. “Give it a rest, huh?”
She smiled and patted his arm. “Norm, you just never mind. This promises to be a very interesting party.”
****
Later that night, Meg finished brushing her hair and then stepped from the bathroom into her loft bedroom. Before climbing into bed, she gave in to her curiosity and glanced out the window toward Eric’s cottage. Except for the light on the porch, the place was dark.
After dinner, the partying at Carl’s had continued, with guests gathering around the pool for after-dinner drinks and conversation. Meg stayed for a while, but having no one in particular to chat with, she soon took her leave. Judging by his dark cottage, Eric chose to stay. Keeping Helen company, no doubt.
Meg finally settled in bed, read for a while, dozed off, and then woke up. She went into the bathroom for a drink of water. I will not look out to see if Eric is home yet. Still, on the way back from the bathroom, she detoured to the window. His cottage lay in darkness. Well, he and Helen must be having a really good time. Not that she cared.
****
Eric stood in the shadows outside his cottage. The hour was late, but he would phone Nick anyway. The sooner his friend hunted up the information he wanted, the better. He switched on his cell phone and punched the illuminated keys.
“Hey, man,” said a sleepy-sounding Nick.
Eric winced. “Sorry to call so late, but I have a few more people for you to check out.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Got paper and pencil?”
A few minutes later, after inquiring about Nick’s wife and hearing she was okay, Eric rang off.
As he clipped his phone to his belt, he glanced at Meg’s cottage. All was dark. He’d seen her leave the party and wanted to accompany her home but hadn’t been able to get away from Helen Wilson. The woman had a very persistent come-on. He wasn’t interested, but she might know something that would aid his investigation. Even though he’d been on Gemini only a few days, he needed to make progress before time ran out.
Chapter Eight
The following morning, Carl’s actress friend, Darla Costas, arrived. Dressed in a white blouse, an ankle-length, blue skirt, and with a circlet of daisies atop her dark, waist-length hair, she might have come directly from the stage.
Carl introduced her to everyone at lunch.
“I’ve seen you in plays at The Rep,” Meg said, when her turn came.
Darla’s wide smile showed even, white teeth. “Yes, I’ve been with the company for several years. Right now, I’m playing Kate in The Taming of the Shrew.”
Carl put his arm around Darla’s waist and gave her a hug. “I’m trying to talk her into giving us a sample sometime this weekend.”
Darla laughed. “He always wants me to perform. But of course. I will.”
“I look forward to that.” Meg clasped her hands in anticipation.
They chatted for a couple more minutes, and then Carl said, “Oh, by the way, Meg, I want you and Eric to take a break this afternoon while I give everyone a tour of the museum. Go for a swim or just relax. We’ll all join you later.”
Meg warmed to his suggestion. “Why, thanks, Carl. Some free time would be a treat.”
“How about it?” Eric asked Meg a few minutes later. “Are you up for a swim?”
Meg shook her head. “I plan to rest in my cottage. I’m not used to all this partying.”
“Okay, I’ve got phone calls to make. See you later.”
Was it her imagination, or had he look relieved?
At Wolf House, Meg busied herself with housekeeping chores for half an hour, which she figured would be time enough for the museum tour to be underway, and then she left, taking the path back to the main house. With everyone at the museum, now would be a good time to look around Carl’s office. Time on the island was passing, and, so far, she hadn’t found out anything about Johnny and why someone may have purposely caused his and Aly’s accident.
With Laureen still in the house, and Burke and Jones lurking who knew where, investigating would be risky. But, as the saying went, nothing ventured, nothing gained. If she met with questions, she’d say she was looking for a sweater she mislaid at lunch.
As she neared the house, Meg spotted Laureen on the patio, cleaning up from lunch. Waiting until the woman’s back was turned, Meg slipped by and hurried to the back door of the house. She went inside and, keeping her back straight and her head high, strode down the hallway.
The door to Carl’s office stood ajar. Her heartbeat quickened. She hesitated, her courage seeping away like a tire with a leak. Was she crazy? What if she got caught?
Then she thought of Aly and the horrible accident that took her young life. A lump formed in her throat. “I’m doing this for you, Aly,” she whispered. She straightened her shoulders and slipped inside the room.
Stopping inside the door, she looked around to get her bearings. The drawn blinds gave everything a brownish cast. The spacious office had the usual desk, computer, printer, filing cabinets and bookshelves. A sofa, overstuffed chairs, and a coffee table added homey touches.
The desk would be a good place to begin. She crept toward it and then stopped short. Someone sat in Carl’s leather swivel chair, working on the computer. The person must be Lester. She couldn’t think of anyone else who might freely use Carl’s machine. Darn, she’d forgotten about him.
Reason told her to turn around and quietly leave. But she was curious to know for certain the person’s identity. She inched closer, leaning sideways to see a profile and thus identify him. Or her.
