Feta Attraction (14 page)

I realized that I had stopped breathing. I filled my lungs and felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. I'd found the treasure.

FOURTEEN

Whoever had searched the house hadn't known what to look for either, and certainly hadn't been looking for furniture. I could exchange the table for Spiro and we'd sort out whatever money mess he was in, he could tell the police what, if anything, he knew about Big Dom's death, and everything would get back to normal. Sophie would never have to know. I doubted she'd miss this table. Despite her professions of infirmity, she was quite spry for her age; but it required a heck of a lot of steps to get all the way up here and I felt sure she almost never made the trek. In a couple of months, after we got everything fixed and I sent Sophie and Spiro back to Greece where they'd be out of harm's way, I would alert the authorities to be on the lookout for the seller of a valuable antique table, and we'd be able to bring the kidnapper/extortionist and whatever else he was to justice, and get the table back too.

I needed a short-term plan. The table was unwieldy but not too heavy, so it would be easy enough to get downstairs. I'd have to avoid being seen, though, and there was only the one central staircase, which was visible from most angles of all the downstairs dining rooms. My only choice was to send Sophie out to Marina's again, close up early, and get the thing out of the house when everyone was gone. I'd need to get the table down to the water without damaging it and onto a boat— rather a large hurdle since I didn't own one. Nor did I know how to operate one.

But first things first. I wiped the dusty surface with my arm, obliterating the love note the ghost hunters had left me. I carried the table over to the open stairway and maneuvered it down the stairs to the second floor. Since it was now the peak of the lunch hour and Sophie would be managing the dining room and the kitchen without my help, it didn't seem likely she would come upstairs, but I looked around me to be sure. I set the table down in front of my door, fumbled in my pocket for the key, heart racing, and set the table inside.

I grabbed a random sock from the pile on my floor and gave the whole table a quick going-over. I'd definitely seen a table just like this on
Antiques Roadshow
and it had been appraised at several hundred thousand dollars. I extricated a blanket from the tangle of linens at the foot of my bed and wrapped it up. Digging through the mess, I found what I was looking for—an old army green web belt with an adjustable buckle. Ugh. Had I ever really worn this thing? I secured the belt around the central spoke of the table, making sure all the loose edges of the blanket were secured in it and all the surfaces of the table were covered. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.

So how was I going to transport this priceless wooden antique over water and somehow secure it inside the cave on Devil's Oven Island without getting it wet and damaging it? Couldn't this kidnapper have picked an exchange location on terra firma? Why make it so difficult? I undid the belt and went into the bathroom, unclipping the tropical-flowered plastic shower curtain from its rings. I wrapped the blanketed table in a waterproof layer of plastic and secured the belt again. Not the prettiest package I'd ever wrapped, but certainly the most valuable.

I went back into the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth, and saturated it with cold water. I draped it over my face and luxuriated for a moment in the cool sensation of it. I wiped off my dusty, sweaty arms. A cool shower would have been heavenly, but there was no time. And no shower curtain. So I stripped down to my underwear and took a quick, cool sponge bath. The evaporating moisture felt wonderful. I ran a hairbrush through my hair, applied some fresh deodorant, then changed into clean clothes. I headed back downstairs, being sure to lock the door behind me.

I was ravenous and went straight to the kitchen, which was bustling. We must have had a good crowd out in the dining rooms today. It was Thursday and people were starting to come into town for Pirate Days.

Sophie watched me. She had probably noticed my change of clothes, but didn't say anything. Dolly was working feverishly to keep up with the orders, so I made myself a sandwich. Sliced marinated chicken breast on grilled, buttered bread with lots of melted provolone cheese and some roasted red peppers. I sent one of the busboys down to the bar for a Diet Coke with a slice of lemon. I slammed down the sandwich and dropped my plate in the dishwater, then took my drink back to my office.

I fired off a return e-mail to the kidnapper telling him I had found what he wanted and would bring it to the drop-off place tonight as instructed. I couldn't help adding, in what I hoped was a nonthreatening way, that I would be expecting Spiro's safe return tonight or tomorrow. Were you allowed to do that with kidnappers? I hoped he would be so happy to have his demands met that he would overlook any etiquette breach I might have made.

I found my cell phone and dialed Liza's personal number so I wouldn't have to go through her switchboard.

“It's Georgie.”

“I know that,” she chided good-naturedly, then turned serious. “Georgie, what is going on with you? I haven't heard from you since you spent the night here, and I was beginning to worry.”

“Uh, I've just been busy.” Not the answer she was looking for, but true enough. “Li, I have to ask you a favor.”

“Of course, ask anything; you know that.”

“There's just one thing. Please trust me and don't ask me any questions. It's something I can't talk about right now. Maybe later, but not now, okay?”

“Georgie, what is going on? Are you in trouble?” she demanded.

“Please. I wouldn't do this if it weren't important.” A matter of life and death definitely classified as important. I picked up a stray pen on the desk and started to tap nervously with it.

She sighed. “What do you need me to do?”

“Lend me a boat.” Liza kept a small motorboat at the village docks so that her employees could transport guests to the island. She kept another, more luxurious one docked at the island so her guests could be treated to a private cruise if they wished.

“Anything that's mine is yours; you know that. But what could you need a boat for? And since when do you know how to operate one?”

“I have to ask you again not to question me. I know what I'm doing.”

“I doubt that,” she said, then sighed again. I wished she would stop doing that. “The cuddy cabin should be unlocked. There's an ignition key inside a coffee can in the cabinet over the galley sink.”

“Thanks. I appreciate this. And I wouldn't ask if it weren't important,” I repeated.

“If it's that important, then you shouldn't be attempting it alone,” she admonished. “If anything happens to you because I lent you this boat, I will never, ever forgive myself.”

“I'll be all right. I promise to wear a life jacket.”

“You'll find one in the compartment under the deck cushions at the stern.”

Right, the stern. I had no idea what the stern was. “Okay.”

“Have you heard from Spiro? He hasn't come back yet, has he?”

“No, he hasn't come back. I'm expecting him tomorrow, though.” If everything went according to plan tonight, that was. I crossed my fingers. It was silly superstition, but it couldn't hurt. She didn't press any further.

Remembering the other thing I needed to ask her, I said, “So, did you find out anything about those farmers we were talking about, the ones that Spiro was—” I caught myself. “Is supposedly involved with?”

“The Sons of Demeter.”

“Yes, that's it.”

“My sources tell me that Big Dom was involved with them too.” I didn't even bother to ask who her sources were; she would never tell me.

“Big Dom?” I swallowed. “Involved how?”

“The SODs are in the money-lending business. The Sailor's Rest and Dom's other restaurant in Watertown haven't been doing all that well the last few years due to his mismanagement. He was also keeping a mistress over in LaFargeville, and she's been getting more and more demanding of his time and money. He apparently borrowed some serious bucks from the SODs to keep everything afloat. And didn't pay them back on time.”

“And?” I was afraid to ask.

“And it appears that they had something to do with his murder.”

I swallowed hard. Organized, murdering, money-lending farmers? In the North Country? This was unbelievable. And I'd had no idea that Big Dom's restaurants were in trouble.

“How much money are we talking about?” I knew Spiro was into them for at least the seventy-nine thousand dollars he'd withdrawn from his accounts and the cash box under Sophie's bed, but he must have paid them that. How much more could he owe?

“I don't know the exact amount, but it may be in the six figures.”

Wow. Big Dom had gotten himself into a mess. A fatal mess. I knew where some of that money was—invested in a honkin' big diamond ring currently ensconced in Sophie's scrawny cleavage. Damn him. He'd been romancing Sophie for her money, plain and simple. If he hadn't already been killed I might have had a go at it myself. I didn't think Sophie had been that emotionally entangled, so hopefully she wouldn't be too hurt when all this came out. Knowing her tough and resilient nature, I predicted she would be spitting mad, not humiliated.

“How in the world are these farmers coming up with that kind of money to lend out?” I didn't realize there was that much money in the whole North Country.

“My guess is extortion and some kind of drug dealing, but I don't have any proof of that. Up until now they've flown way under the radar. It might not be so easy for them now.”

Even if Spiro returned safely, how were we going to extricate him from whatever his obligations were and protect him in the future? “Who are these people?”

“Here's the part that surprised me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The rumor is that they are headquartered in Rossie.”

Rossie was an adjacent township that covered a lot of square miles. “Where?”

“The Sunshine Acres commune.”

FIFTEEN

A burp of pepper-flavored acid rose up in my throat and I swallowed it back down. I reached for my Diet Coke and took a big sip, but that did nothing to neutralize the nasty burn, only intensified it. I'd been at Sunshine Acres only a few hours ago. That Hank guy could have been the killer. He must be involved somehow. Spiro must be hidden away in any of the numerous buildings of the compound. And I'd bought groceries from them for years. My God, I was supporting them!

“Georgie, are you there?”

“Uh, yeah. I'm just surprised, is all.” I fished around in my desk and came up with a lone antacid tablet wrapped up in a curling peel of paper. I chewed it up.

“Well, I was too. Although when you think about it, it makes perfect sense. They've been organized as a farming and living cooperative for forty years. It's not that big a leap to think that they might have branched out into a more lucrative business now that they're all senior citizens and thinking about retiring. Maybe they want to buy an island someplace tropical. I don't think they're getting a lot of new recruits.”

“Who's Hank?” I wasn't sure why I wanted to know, but somehow it seemed important.

“Hank? That must be Hank Miller. He's a local guy. In fact, I think Sunshine Acres started out as his family's farm. He seems to be the unofficial leader of Sunshine Acres. I've always thought he was a pretty decent guy.”

“Could there be a secret splinter group within the commune, one that Hank doesn't know about?” For some reason, I wanted Hank to be innocent.

“It's certainly possible. Hank is business savvy. He's been running the Acres for decades. But I wouldn't have thought he could run an extortion business and get away with it till now. I certainly wouldn't have thought he was capable of murder, or being involved in a murder.”

I glanced down at my watch. “I've gotta go. Thank you so much for lending me the boat. I'll have it back by midnight.” I hoped.

“Why don't you ask Keith to go with you, if you won't tell me what this errand of yours is all about?”

“I can't. I just can't.”

“You will call me as soon as you get back, at any hour of the night,” she ordered. “If I don't hear from you by one a.m., I am calling the police. Your trust and your friendship are important to me, but I'd rather have you alive and not trusting me than dead. I know this is somehow mixed up with Big Dom's death and Spiro being missing, and I am warning you that you are playing with fire.”

That was fair enough, and I would have done the same for her. “I promise I will call as soon as I get back.”

*   *   *

I returned to the kitchen and asked Sophie to accompany me into the hall. She got up stiffly, wincing for the benefit of the kitchen staff, and followed. “Sophie, you need to go home with Marina this afternoon, and spend the night with her again,” I said in a voice I hoped brooked no opposition. She started to protest, but I gave her a look and she stopped midsentence. “This is important. I think I know where Spiro is. I'm hoping he'll be back tomorrow.”

Her face lit up. “You mean, he's not dead?” No doubt she had already been on the phone with the Bay's one funeral home and was trying to figure out the cheapest way to get his corpse back to Greece. Her smile morphed into a furious scowl. “Wait until I get my hands on him, that thieving, ungrateful brat!” She started swearing in Greek, but I put my hand on her arm to stop her.

“Sophie, I have to go and get him.” And do some other things, but she didn't need to know that. “I don't want you to be here alone. We're going to shut down the Bonaparte House tonight.” I waited for the eruption.

“What? It's Thursday night! Our third busiest night of the week! Do you know how much that will cost me? I'll go bankrupt!” she shrieked. “We are not closing tonight!”

“Yes, we are,” I said as calmly as I could. “I am going to get Spiro, and you are going to Marina's when she leaves to go home for the afternoon. We'll be open again tomorrow for Pirate Days, and we'll be very busy and make lots of money. Call her, and tell her to wait for you until you get there. Now.”

I stepped back into the kitchen and asked Dolly to oversee the kitchen cleanup and send everyone home early, assuring the staff that I'd pay them their regular wages. A broad smile showcasing her dentures creased her face. She fiddled with the giant gold cross around her neck again.

“Is that new, Dolly? I haven't seen that pendant before.”

“Yup. Russ bought it for me. He's such a good son. It's real, too. I had Roger down at the jewelry shop check it out with that little eye microscope thingie he has.”

Russ? Our dishwasher gofer whom we paid twelve dollars an hour, plus the occasional steak? “Does he have another job?”

“Nah. He didn't say where he got this. I don't know if he, uh, paid for it,” she added. “I didn't see a receipt.”

“Have you talked to him today?”

“Yeah, he called me a while ago. He's sore but all right. He's out in his garage right now getting ready for huntin' season.” Hunting season wasn't due to start for two months.

“He'll be in tomorrow?” The busboy hadn't stopped complaining about doing the dishes since I came in. He wouldn't be returning next year.

“Yeah, he'll be back.”

“Good. Have a nice evening off.”

“How come we're closin' up?”

I thought fast. “I want everyone rested up for Pirate Days.” Incredibly lame, but she nodded. I don't think she cared anyway—she was getting the day off and that was all that mattered.

“I'll just finish up here then and head out.”

*   *   *

Less than an hour later, the last lunch customers had paid their bills, the evening reservations had been rescheduled, and the staff had made it out in record time. I lugged Sophie's giant suitcase over to the Pancake Heaven and deposited my mother-in-law in a booth at the back of the diner to wait for Marina. A waitress hustled over and brought her a cup of coffee and a raspberry Danish, which looked pretty darn good, but there was no time for a treat.

Marina told me that they would be leaving shortly and that she would keep Sophie home tonight. I replied that Sophie hadn't been feeling well but wouldn't admit it. Marina nodded her understanding. “She has troubles now.” She thumped her ample chest. “Heart troubles.” My guess was that Sophie wasn't suffering much over Big Dom's death, maybe more like celebrating inwardly at the increase in business she was experiencing, but I decided to allow Sophie her fun and let her cousin make a fuss over her supposedly broken heart. Sophie had spilled the beans to Marina about Big Dom's proposal, though in her defense there had been no reason to keep it secret prior to the murder.

I went back to the empty Bonaparte House and up to my room. There was time to kill so I started to pick up some of the mess. All the clothes went into a laundry basket I kept in the bathroom. Not knowing who had touched them made me squeamish to wear them, as though some kind of kidnapper cooties might have been transferred. I owned only a few items that would need to be dry-cleaned and pressed, so those just went on top of the pile. Tomorrow I would pay Dolly extra to run a few loads of laundry for me after I made up some story about how virtually every towel and article of clothing I owned got dirty at the same time.

I went back out to the linen closet in the hall, which for some reason had not been touched, and retrieved fresh, non-cootie sheets and a spare blanket from the shelf. I stripped the bed, then remade it, and replaced the rest of the flotsam and jetsam that had spilled out of the closet, stuffing everything in and slamming the door before an avalanche ensued.

I righted my overturned overnight bag and picked up the jumble of papers spilling out of a file folder. Spiro's research about the Bonapartes and the supposed plot to bring Napoleon here. Frankly, I'd always had my doubts about whether that story was true, but in light of the fact that I'd just been proven wrong about there being a treasure in this house, I wasn't taking anything for granted anymore. Those ghost hunters might be interested in this stuff for their show. After I had Spiro back, I would scan the most interesting documentation and e-mail it them to see whether maybe they'd want to use any of it as background information.

The room looked presentable, no worse than usual, but I decided to lock my door anyway on my way out. I looked at my watch. Marina and Sophie would definitely be gone by now. I opened my door, took a deep breath, and reached for the blanketed and shower-curtained table near the door. A noise caught my attention. I stood up and listened. There it was again, a very soft and muffled sound coming from Sophie's room across the hall. She'd left her door open, most likely to try to keep the air circulating up here. I looked around for something I could use as a weapon. I grabbed the first thing I saw—a big barrel curling iron I had left out on top of the dresser. Too bad the thing wasn't hot, but I'd be able to inflict some damage if I swung it hard enough.

I cautiously peeked out my door, then moved across the hall to Sophie's door. The noise sounded again, a soft grunt definitely coming from inside. “Come out of there now, whoever you are!” I ordered. I sounded more authoritative than I felt. “People are downstairs and as soon as I scream they will be up here.” I walked in, brandishing the curling iron and nearly tripping over the cord. “You can't hurt my family anymore!” The noise sounded again, and it seemed to be coming from . . . the wall. That wall adjoined Spiro's room. I ran over to the wall and put my ear up to it and heard a shuffling sound accompanied by soft moaning.

I ran out into the hallway and flung open Spiro's door. “Come out and show yourself, you bastard!” Adrenaline surged through me and my fear left. I looked under the bed, in the closet, in the bathroom, but there was no one there. The noise came again, softer this time, then faded out completely. I ran to the wall adjoining Sophie's room and put my ear to that, but nothing. I was panting by now and stopped to catch my breath. There was nobody in the room with me. Nobody human, that was.