Innocent Little Crimes (8 page)

Davis only laughed. “So, what’s with Della?
Why the hostility?”

Jon waved him off.

“Well, I think you should go easy on her.
She’s having a hard time.”

“Right. And did you catch the scars on her
wrists?”

“No. I didn’t.” Davis turned from Jon to
watch Cynthia.

Wait until you’ve been
through three marriages
.
You’ll be plenty sour by then.

An hour and a half after departure, the
ship’s horn sounded. The ferry eased into the docking area on San
Juan Island. Small boats moored at the marina bobbed and tipped in
the blustering wind. A few people huddled in rain slickers at the
wooden landing, awaiting passage back to Annacortes. The town, with
its old-fashioned storefronts and colorful cottages, looked
deserted.

Davis and Jon joined the two women.

“God, we must be crazy to be up here this
time of year,” Davis said.

“Lila’s the crazy one. She’s the one who
picked this weekend,” Della said.

“Maybe she finds this kind of weather
entertaining,” Jon added.

Della grunted. “Entertaining isn’t the word
I’d choose. And what kind of boat is going to cart us over to her
island in this storm?”

Cynthia frowned. “Let’s just hope it’s not a
sailboat.”

Davis put his arm around her and squeezed
her. “Hon, don’t worry. I’m sure Lila has it all figured out.
She’ll take good care of us.”

Chapter 11

“Oh, Dick,” Millie said, “isn’t this a
beautiful sight?”

“The calm before the storm.” He stepped off
the ferry ramp and looked around the harbor. He eyes searched the
narrow streets into the wooded community of Friday Harbor.

The word “quaint” came to Millie’s mind. She
wished she could have brought the girls; she missed them terribly.
They would have been a lot more fun than Grumpy.

“
There’s the restaurant—right above the
marina.” Dick began walking at a brisk pace, leaving Millie
trailing behind. The wind whipped at her coat. She clutched her
wool scarf, tripping over puddles as she crossed the street,
rolling her suitcase behind her.

“Hey, wait up.”

Dick ignored her. She figured he was still
mad at her for making them miss the noon ferry. Well, he wanted her
to drive and she refused to speed in this weather. With her luck,
he told her, they’ll miss the charter at Friday Harbor and blow the
whole weekend.

Dick seemed eager to see his old pals, but
Millie’s gut filled with trepidation. She had never been very close
to the others in Thespians. She performed and rehearsed with them
all, but underneath the camaraderie she knew they made fun of her
awkwardness. Lila was the only real friend she’d had, and that was
because Lila’d been an outcast too. Millie sighed.

By the time she arrived at the parking lot,
winded and sweaty, Dick emerged from the restaurant, followed by a
group of familiar people. She spotted Davis right away; he looked
little different than she remembered, accompanied by a blonde.
Jon’s hair was shorter and more stylish, but there was no mistaking
his confident stride. The dark-haired woman standing behind him was
a mystery. In fact, Millie didn’t recognize Della until she heard
her speak.

“Hi, Millie. Been a long time.”

Millie stiffened at her voice, waiting for
condescension, but only fatigue laced her tone. She noticed Della’s
shaking hands. Then she took a better look. Fifteen years had taken
their toll on Della—all her beauty and spirit stripped away. Millie
could hardly tear her eyes from the sight of Della’s beaten,
hopeless expression. Millie tightened her coat around her and said
hello to the Thespians class of ’90, aware of their staring at her
extra sixty pounds.

An old mariner walked up to the group in the
parking lot, dressed in a rain parka and rubber boots, with a
shaggy dog at his heels. “Are you the folks heading out to Miss
Carmichael’s?”

Davis looked at the meager handful of
classmates. “You our ride? How many are you supposed to be picking
up?”

The captain counted heads. “You’re looking at
it minus one. Who we missing?”

Jon spoke up. “My date had to bow out last
minute.”

Davis looked puzzled. “Small group. Maybe
there’re more coming later.”

“Nope. You’re it.” The captain checked the
sky. “We should get going.”

“Some big reunion,” Jon said.

Dick beamed. “La crème de la crème. Lila just
wanted us, I guess. So, what are we waiting for?”

The captain scrunched up his face. He led
them over to a wooden dock. Few boats rocked at their moorings in
the large harbor. “This here’s your ride,” he said, pointing to the
small boat pulling at the slip. “Gonna be a little choppy going
around the pass. Windy, too.” Mac’s dog greeted everyone with a
lick. “First mate, Sherpa. My name’s Mac.” He whistled and the dog
jumped on board. “Named him for that famous explorer.” He chuckled
and started untying the line.

Cynthia boarded first, taking the ferryman’s
outstretched hand. Davis climbed in after her, uncomfortable with
the small craft. Sailing on San Francisco Bay in his ketch with a
warm breeze blowing was one thing. Weathering these swells with a
storm looming was another. Especially when the water temperature
rarely topped fifty degrees. If they had to bail out, they’d surely
die from hypothermia before they could make it to land. Davis
cringed. If there was anything he hated, it was cold, icy water.
And he was not a good swimmer. Sure, he’d been an all-around
athlete in high school—basketball, football, soccer. But never
swimming. He peered over the bow of the boat. Cynthia huddled
beside him.

Her voice was hesitant. “Hon, why are we
doing this?”

Davis wrapped his arms around her and cradled
her. “Trust me, darling—this is going to be a great weekend. And
I’ll look after you, you know that. Anytime you feel uneasy or left
out, just tell me, okay?” Cynthia nodded. “That’s my girl,” he
said, stroking her hair.

After they boarded, the boat pulled away from
the harbor. Sherpa stationed himself at his master’s feet. They
cruised by beautiful wood and glass homes sequestered in woods that
grew to the edge of the water. Boats tied to private docks swayed
in the swells. The shore seemed within touching distance. Davis
pictured his sailboat rigged up, catching the wind on a warm summer
day. Barbecuing on the beach while watching for whales.

“Look at these fancy houses. I bet they cost
a fortune,” Dick said. “Maybe I’ll get a place up here
someday.”

“Who lives out here? Are these all retired
people?” Millie asked, wiggling on the hard, vinyl bench.

The boat rocked and lurched with the swells.
Davis gripped the side rail. He felt a little relief, noting the
stack of life jackets stuffed under the bench. The image of
floating bodies from the “Titanic” movie fueled his
imagination.

Mac steered the boat away from the island and
headed toward a narrow passage. “Used to be. Now a lot of city
folks are moving in with their fax machines and computers and home
generators.” Another island loomed on their right. Whitecaps
crested the waves. The wind blew salt spray into their faces as the
boat continued at a slow, steady speed. The vessel lurched and sank
into troughs as the swells grew higher. Mac paid close attention to
his course. “Normally this channel is full of traffic. But not this
time of year. And not in this weather.”

He looked over at Della, whose face was pale.
“You all right, miss? If you need to upchuck, it’s better over the
edge than in the bucket.” He pointed to the railing and just the
suggestion was enough. Della gripped the railing and leaned her
head over as the boat plowed forward into the wind.

“Just a little bit more, and we’ll make the
turn. It’ll quiet down noticeably.” Mac kept his eyes on the water.
“People come up here to sail, kayak, thinkin’ it’s so calm and
sheltered between the islands. But they don’t understand how
treacherous it is. These currents run up around five knots and
they’re forced through these narrow passages like a funnel. You
gotta know what you’re getting into up here. Lotsa folks been swept
away. I seen it.”

Dick stumbled over to the captain. He
couldn’t hear anything Mac said with the wind battering the
boat.

“Used to be a lot of piratin’ in the old
days. Now all the rich people’ve bought up these islands. They’ve
got a private airstrip over there—that’s where Miss Carmichael
flies in and out. But they’re isolated out here. Have to bring in
water. The power goes out all the time. Have to boat to Crane
Island to get supplies. No doctors or hospitals. Most of these
folks are used to the city life. They get out here and they fall
apart.”

“How long has Lila had her place? You see her
a lot?” Dick asked. He desperately wanted to know what she was
really like. He never bothered to get to know her in college—but,
who knew she’d make it big?

Mac shook his head. “Maybe a few years. Was a
huge operation, shipping all that fancy stuff in. But, from what I
gather, she’s not here much.”
Dick yelled over the whistling wind. “We went to college with her.
We gave her her first chance to act.”

“Ain’t that something,” Mac said.

As they approached the dock, the group
gathered at the rails and stared at the sandy stretch of beach
before them. The island was undeveloped and wooded, sloping gently
to the water, which raced in a turbulent clip along the beach. A
tall metal flagpole stood erect out of the sand, the only sign of
civilization. Dick saw no boats, phone lines, or roads marring the
primitive landscape.

“Is this it?” Dick said. “Where’s the house?
Or are we camping out?” He laughed, but the others looked
despondent.

Mac threw the line over the post and helped
everyone out of the boat. “Now, just head through that clearing
there. You can’t miss it. I’ll be back to round you up Sunday
afternoon, weather permitting.”

Millie frowned. “What do you mean, ‘weather
permitting’?”

“Just like I said. Nasty storm’s coming in.
But if I can get here, I will. You’ll be plenty comfortable in that
little cabin of Lila’s.” He unloaded all the gear and set it on the
dock, shaking his head.

As the boat headed back out into open water,
Dick broke the silence. “Well, what are we waiting for, gang? Let’s
check out this little ‘cabin’ of Lila’s.” He hoisted his suitcase
and trudged through the wet sand. The others fell in behind him.
The sun was starting to set and Dick didn’t want to be wandering in
the dark. Who knew what kind of wild animals prowled these
woods?

As they came out of the dense brush, a
palatial stone castle rose up three stories before them, lushly
landscaped and accented with multi-colored spotlights. A small
wooden sign stuck out of the sand that simply announced, “Lila’s
Joint.” In the gloom of the fading light, Lila’s retreat shone like
the castle at Disneyland. She had even put in a small moat and
drawbridge at the entrance.

“Get a load of this,” Dick said, his jaw
dropping in amazement.

Before any of them could speak, the
drawbridge lowered, exposing a pair of wooden doors, easily fifteen
feet high.

Jonathan laughed. “What a great gimmick.”

Della stood with Davis and Cynthia, all
watching with curiosity. As the drawbridge touched ground,
loudspeakers blasted a fanfare of horns.

“This is too much,” Davis said. “Isn’t this
great, hon?”

Cynthia nodded but Dick could tell she would
rather be home. A pang of jealousy struck him, looking at Cynthia’s
beautiful face and slender figure. Davis always got the girls. Dick
humphed and turned back to the castle. He reached into his carryall
and pulled out a small camera. “Okay, guys. Everyone! Stand in
front of the moat. Now, don’t fall in. Lila’s probably got real
crocodiles in there. Come on, come on.” Slowly, the group gathered
and Dick snapped away.

“What about you?” Millie asked.

“I’ll take it.”

A slender man, dressed in colorful court
jester’s attire, strolled across the drawbridge. He pulled the
camera out of Dick’s hand and motioned for Dick to get into the
shot. Who was this clown?

“Now then,” the man said, looking each one in
the eye, “welcome to Devil’s Island. Peter Avon, here to entertain
and amuse you until her majesty arrives.” He snapped some photos
and handed the camera back to Dick.

“Let’s see if I can guess: Dick Ferrol, no
doubt.”

Dick, stunned, extended his hand. “How’d you
know my name?”

“Oh, Lila’s told me about all of you.
Here—that must be Millie,” he said, pointing and working his way
down the line, examining each one. “And Della, Davis, Cynthia, and
finally Jonathan.” He drew close to Jonathan’s face. “So especially
glad to meet
you
,” he said
with a twinkle in his eye, then looked puzzled. “One
missing?”

Jonathan pulled away. “Melodie couldn’t make
it.”

Peter feigned disappointed. “So sad. I was
looking forward to meeting an aspiring starlet.” He clapped his
hands. “Well, entrez-vous! As Lila says, ‘Mi castle es su castle.’
”

Peter escorted them across the bridge and
into a reception area paved with rough-hewn stone and featuring a
massive fountain in the center. A grotesque metal gargoyle spewed
water from its mouth, and imposing wings spanned halfway across the
room.

“This is right out of King Arthur,”
Dick said
. Amazing what you could do with
so much wealth
.

“Yeah,” Davis said, “except King Arthur
didn’t have stereo speakers.”

“And electricity,” Millie added.

Peter led them through the archaic entry to a
set of double French doors. He gestured them inside. “Please, help
yourself to food and drink. Lila left some DVDs to keep you
entertained. And just set your bags down anywhere. We’ll direct you
to the bedrooms later.”