Windswept, page 9
part #1 of Emily Harrington Series
NINE
It took just a minute for Penny at the front desk to get through to Michael’s hotel, only to find that he wasn’t there. But he had left a message for Emily saying that he would be in his room at about ten p.m. and he’d try to reach her then. That left Emily only half an hour, so she decided to wait on the patio. She could read her book and there was a cool breeze and the shade of the palm trees.
It was amazing how quiet everything was now. You would almost think the resort was empty. No chatter, no laughter. One almost expected to hear a collective snore. Annie brought Emily a homemade lemonade, tall and cold, perfect for the late afternoon. Emily opened her bestseller to page one for the third time that day.
No matter how hard she tried, though, she could not focus on the book and she found herself looking toward the empty bay beach. As she sat, she was rewarded with the passing of a large catamaran, majestic in its dominance of the water and powerful in its use of the wind. There appeared to be people on deck, probably heading out for one of those sunset sails. An occasional figure, silent and slow, would also periodically walk by. The beach was certainly lovely at this time of day. The sun had lost its intense heat, and royal terns and laughing gulls swooped and perched on the shore.
At one point, Emily thought she saw a familiar figure walking along the shore. Judging by the bent shoulders and pensive demeanor it looked like Jessica. It was hard to imagine how she must feel now after enduring one more scene, once again being the object of Roger’s rage. Soon Emily’s thoughts were interrupted as Sarah entered the patio.
‘You must be the only person still awake here. It’s like a ghost town. The beach − and the beach bar – must have been mighty busy this afternoon.’
‘They certainly were,’ Emily laughed, not wanting to tell Sarah about the scene with Roger. ‘I’m just waiting for a call from Michael in London; otherwise, I’d be napping like the rest of them.’
‘Have you seen Jon?’ Sarah asked. ‘He came over earlier, said he wanted to take a swim but there had been two more cancelled reservations for tonight and, well, he just needed a break. I think he really wanted to talk to my father. He loves talking to him about the restaurant and the island – they share so much. Anyway, he hadn’t gotten back to Blue Water by the time I left town.’
‘I haven’t seen him in a while. But I’m almost sure I saw him earlier – in the crowd at the beach bar, I think. Maybe you two crossed paths. Your mother’s in the office; maybe she’s seen him.’
‘Thanks, Emily, I’ll check with her. Good luck with your call.’
Not five minutes later, Emily’s call came through and she practically flew inside to the phone. ‘Hi, hon, how are you? Packing, I hope!’
‘Oh, Em. I don’t even know how to tell you this. Things are a mess here. The whole deal has fallen through and Harris is on his way over from New York. I’m just trying my best to keep these guys from leaving the negotiating table. There’s no way I can leave, Em.’
For a moment, Emily could say nothing, disappointment strangling her words and tears starting to seep from her eyes.
‘Michael, you can’t mean this. Please. Our whole vacation will be ruined,’ she said, anger starting to replace disappointment. ‘And what am I supposed to do here? It’s all couples and … Oh, never mind. Just when do you think this will get settled?’
Michael’s voice sounded tired and strained as he responded. ‘I can’t even tell you, Em. I don’t know what to say. Do you want to fly back to New York? Maybe we can get something back on this trip and plan a new one.’
‘That would be even worse, coming back to the cold and the snow and the disappointment. And you would still be in London. I couldn’t stand it. No, I’ll wait it out here.’
‘Maybe with Harris coming over we can salvage something,’ Michael said. ‘There really are only a couple of sticking points, but things were so botched up by Bixley that these people can’t seem to get beyond it. I’ve tried to move them along but nothing. Harris has worked with them for years, though; he should be able to get things on track. I certainly hope he realizes how hard I’ve worked at this. It’s an important deal and I don’t want to be seen as the one who screwed it up. You won’t believe what Bixley said, he …’ As Michael went on Emily tried to stay focused on what he was saying but found she couldn’t. She didn’t really care about Bixley or Harris or the important deal.
‘Well, I guess I’ll just have to hope for the best, Michael. There’s nothing else I can do. I know it’s not your fault; sorry if I sounded angry. I’m just so damned disappointed. And I really miss you.’
‘I know, Em. I’m disappointed too, and you can’t imagine how much I’m missing you. London’s cold and rainy; I haven’t had a decent meal since I got here, and I have to spend all my time trying to sweet talk these people.’
‘This place is beautiful, Michael. You’ll just love it when you get here.’ Emily tried to stay positive, not allowing herself the thought that Michael might not make it at all.
‘I know I will, but I’d better get going. I have to meet these guys for dinner. And I told Bixley not to even bother coming. I’m better off handling this myself. He’ll only say something to set these guys off. If I can just keep them talking … And Harris will see. He’ll realize that … Listen, I’ll call you in the morning. Oh, no, I guess it will be afternoon – here, I mean. Morning there. Maybe I’ll even know something by then. Harris is supposed to be joining the meeting by ten so maybe I’ll have good news. OK? ’Night, Em. Love you.’
‘Goodnight, Michael. I …’ But the phone had already gone dead. Emily couldn’t help the tears that streamed down her face as she hung up, and it didn’t take Annie a minute to realize what had happened.
‘No good, huh?’ she said sympathetically.
‘Nope. Things are a mess there. One of the partners is heading over from New York. Maybe that will help. But right now things don’t look good at all.’
‘Oh, Emily, you must be so disappointed. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?’
‘Nothing, really, Annie. You’ve been so kind already. And Martin. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been someplace else. No wonder everyone comes back here all the time. It’s like a family − a strange family, but …’
‘How about a walk?’ Annie asked, chuckling. ‘I have to check around to see if I can find Martin. We just got a call from New York about an order he placed when he was up there. There are some problems with it and they’re going to call back in fifteen minutes.’
‘What the heck, I might as well. I don’t think I’d be able to sleep right now anyway, I’m too keyed up. By the way, did you see Sarah? She was looking for you.’
‘I did. She was looking for Jon. I told her I saw him earlier. He came over for a swim and I saw him head down to the beach. But once the stuff with Roger started, I didn’t see him again. He must have headed back and she just missed him.’
‘I love the beach at this time of day,’ Emily said as they walked down to the bay. ‘So quiet and peaceful. You must love the peace too, Annie. You certainly don’t get much of it.’
‘That’s true, but Martin and I really love what we do here. We enjoy the socializing and the people. It really is like you said … like a family. And, yes, some days it’s a very strange family. I can’t imagine what Martin is doing. Of course, he’s always checking up on the place – the first sign of peeling paint, a sign that’s crooked, even the shapes of the bushes – nothing escapes his eye. I think I’ll take a look over by the tennis courts; I remember him saying something about cracks on court one. Or maybe I should head over to the ocean beach.’
‘Why don’t I take a look over that way? I’m going to head back to my room anyway. As nice as this beach is, I just can’t shake my mood. Maybe I should try taking that nap again. God knows, I was tired enough before. Did I tell you that Nick Marino ended up teaching me how to windsurf? Hendrick was already teaching someone else and Nick really seemed to want to step in. It was a lot of fun. Nick was a great teacher and he seemed, well, different. But afterward he mentioned that he’d asked Martin to seat him with me at dinner. I know you have enough to do, Annie, but I don’t really feel up to …’
‘Oh, don’t worry, Emily. We’ll all be seated together.’
‘With Roger and Jessica too?’
‘No, I don’t think we’ll risk that tonight. I feel bad for Jessica, but we’ll just have to find somewhere else for them to sit. Let me think … who’s being really annoying this week?’
‘I feel bad for Jessica too, but after that scene with Roger this afternoon …’
‘I know. I know. But I’ll tell you, Emily, I don’t think people are going to be willing to take Roger’s crap much longer. Soon they’re going to start giving some of it back to him.’
‘You may be right. It certainly seems like Jon’s had it, and Marietta. It sounds as though Nick is satisfied being the only one willing to poke fun at Roger. I really think I’d better go take that nap. It looks like I might need it for later.’
‘That’s probably a good idea. And don’t forget, if you do see Martin, tell him to hurry back to the office.’
Emily again took the ocean path; she loved the view of the waves. She was struck by the quiet which surrounded her. No one else was on the path. Even the waves seemed subdued. Just like last night, the whole mood seemed to have changed. It no longer seemed quietly peaceful, but somehow eerie. From the highest point on the cliff, she could catch a glimpse of Cliff House. Martin and Annie had certainly made a wonderful home, quiet and serene here by itself. As she continued walking down the hilly path on the ocean side of the point, the more desolate it seemed. The executive suites here were so quiet they almost seemed vacant – drapes drawn across the windows, no movement on the balconies.
Clouds blocked the sun and muted the usually bright blues of sky and water. The cooling breezes were stilled. The leaves on the palm trees barely moved and their gentle swish was lulled. The terns and gulls no longer flew overhead but perched silently on the pilings. The air seemed heavy, not just with moisture but with melancholy.
The whole stretch of ocean beach was empty except for one distant figure slumped in a chair on the beach in front of the rondovals. At first, Emily didn’t realize who it was. Soon, though, she could make out the rumpled suit and telltale red face. Oh, God, she thought, not Roger. He’s the last person I want to run into. She considered turning around but knew she couldn’t. It would look awkward and rude. There was nothing else to do. She had to walk right past him to reach her hut, so she raised her hand in a half wave.
But Roger didn’t respond. At first, as she approached, Emily thought he might be sleeping. But, on second glance, she noticed the drink sitting at his feet and the angle of his head. She knew then that he had passed out.
Hardly surprising, she thought. I hope he gets a good burn. It would serve him right. Emily, like the others, had had it with Roger’s nastiness.
But even as she thought those words, she knew she couldn’t walk by and leave him there. He could get serious burns on this beach. Even though clouds covered the sun right now, in two minutes it would be out again. And God knows how long he’d been sitting there. From the looks of him, it could have been ever since he left the beach bar.
Emily veered off the path and headed across the sand, hoping to make this as quick as possible. As she walked, she felt as if someone was watching her. She turned her head several times to check behind her. Maybe someone was looking out one of the windows or sitting on a balcony, but she saw no one.
Other than her and Roger, the beach was completely empty. Or was it? Up ahead, up there beyond the rondovals at the edge of the Bluff’s property where the shoreline curved – wasn’t there someone standing by one of the trees in the small grove, right by the bend? Emily peered into the distance, forcing her eyes to focus, but it was hopeless. There was no one there. This is crazy, she thought. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t the type to be easily spooked but something certainly had gotten to her.
Increasingly anxious, Emily called out to Roger, hoping to rouse him, but to no avail. He must really be out of it, she thought. But as she approached the horrific truth became obvious.
Roger was slumped over, his head lying at a crooked angle on his chest. His mouth hung open, slack and misshapen, and his tongue protruded grotesquely between his teeth. His arms dangled ponderously at his sides and his fingers practically touched the pool of blood spreading across the sand.
Emily, unable for a moment to comprehend what she was seeing, reached out her hand as if to shake him. Oh my God, she thought, pulling her hand back in horror … this can’t be. I thought he was just sleeping … Oh, God … Help. I have to get help.
Emily could feel the hysteria rising as she looked around. There was no one. She would have to leave him; she had to get help. Turning, she started to run back toward the point. It was then that she saw someone coming from the garden path behind her.
‘Martin!’ she shrieked. ‘Martin, help me. Martin, oh God, I need help … He’s dead, Martin … Roger’s dead.’
TEN
It took only moments for a crowd to assemble. Expressions of shock and dismay echoed up and down the beach as word of what had happened spread. Martin, visibly shaken, tried to take charge of the situation, but was surprisingly ineffective in this moment of crisis. He seemed paralyzed by the sight of Roger slumped dead in his chair. And although he kept looking anxiously at the gathering crowd, he said nothing, unable to focus on anything but the sight before him.
Emily, too, was immobilized by what she had discovered. Her heartbeat was rapid, her breathing irregular, and it took several minutes before she even recognized any of the faces in the crowd. Marietta was there, pale and anxious, trying to calm a distraught Nora. Sarah, her face drawn and distressed, was trying to talk to her father, and Nelson, Martin’s right-hand man, his long, muscular arms spread out protectively, was trying to move the onlookers back.
It was actually Annie who was able to put some order into the mounting chaos.
‘Please, everyone, please stand back!’ she cried, her voice strained but obviously in control. ‘Nelson, please get the men to bring those portable screens from the dining room. And see if anyone has called the police. Better yet, Martin, maybe you should head back to the office and call them.’
At first, Martin didn’t even respond to her suggestion, but when she repeated it he seemed to snap out of his dazed absorption. ‘You’re right, of course, the police. I must call the police. Everyone, please do as Annie asks. I know how upset you all are but please, stand back.’
Before he could say another word, a disheveled figure could be seen running across the beach toward them.
‘Martin … Martin!’ Jessica screamed as the crowd parted to let her through. ‘Is it true? Someone said … Oh my God. Oh my God.’
Immediately Jessica turned away, stunned by what she was seeing. Martin grasped her shoulders, trying to support her, but Jessica practically pushed him away and with an ashen face and anguished ‘Nooo …’ abruptly turned and ran from the scene.
Emily, starting to regain her equilibrium, quickly offered to help.
‘Should I go after her, Annie? Someone should be with her.’
‘If you could, Emily, that would be a big help. Bring her up to Cliff House; she’ll at least have some privacy there. Meanwhile, I’ll try to manage things here. Oh, thank God, here come the screens.’
As Emily left the beach she was struck by the bizarre scene unfolding there. Resort guests, many dressed in plush pastel-colored, terrycloth robes, milled about as white latticed screens, some still covered in vines and flowers, were placed around the gruesome remains of Roger Stirhew. Annie, composed as always, tried to answer questions and calm the fears of those in the crowd while Nelson directed the workers. Those who knew Roger well clustered together nearby. Anyone walking by would have thought that this was the set-up for some weird beach party, not the trappings of a grisly crime scene.
It took Emily a little while to find Jessica. She sat slumped on a solitary bench behind the tennis courts near the bay beach. Her eyes were vacant and her hands searched relentlessly in the pockets of her shorts.
‘Jessica,’ she called softly. ‘Jessica, I’m so sorry.’
But Jessica didn’t even look at her. ‘I can’t find my matches. I looked in my pockets. I can’t find them,’ she said, her voice flat, its cadence staccato-like. ‘What’ll I do? I can’t find my matches,’ she said again, looking at the unlit cigarette in her hand.
Emily wasn’t sure if Jessica even realized she was there, but she quickly looked around and found Jessica’s things scattered on the ground. Reaching down she picked up the cigarette pack and matches, some loose change and an old key.
‘Here, let me light that for you,’ she said, reaching out with the match and then absently slipping them into her pocket. ‘I’m so sorry, Jessica. I don’t really know what else to say.’
Jessica seemed to become more aware as she took several deep drags on her cigarette. ‘Oh, God, Emily, the scary thing is I don’t either. My husband is dead and I don’t know what to say … I don’t even know what to feel. Things had gotten so bad between us. The drinking, the nastiness, the blows. There were times recently when I hated him. I … what should … how did this happen? All these years … Emily … what …’ And then she started to sob.
Emily just held her, as there was nothing else to do. No words were going to make a difference at that point. And then, when Jessica seemed a little calmer, she tried to get her up to the house.
‘Annie said we should head up to her house, Jessica. It will be quiet there and you can rest.’
Jessica didn’t resist at all. She seemed almost unaware of what Emily had just said and merely nodded as Emily coaxed her off the bench. But as they headed up the rambling path, she started to talk.
‘It’s funny, Emily – I barely know you, and yet I feel like we’re friends. I trust you more than most people here – except the Maitlands, of course.’ She paused, as if hesitating or deliberating over her next words. ‘You know, I was just seventeen when I first met Roger – seventeen and in trouble. I’d run away from an abusive, alcoholic father and a mother who cared but was sort of, I don’t know, helpless. I’d worn out my welcome at the homes of friends and I was down to my last twenty bucks. So I hitched a ride to Atlantic City and tried to get a waitressing job at one of the casinos. Oh, I was smart enough and people said I was pretty, in a tough sort of way. Made up, I looked older than seventeen, so I thought some place would hire me. But by the end of my second day I was beginning to give up. I was sitting on the boardwalk and, finally, just started to cry when I felt a pat on my shoulder. And this middle-aged guy says, “Can I help?” I’d always had a pretty smart mouth so I just looked at him and said, “Not unless you’re in the market for an inexperienced, underage waitress who can’t even afford a room in a fleabag hotel or a decent meal.” I was too tired and disheartened to even hide my desperation.
