Poison Ivy (20 page)

“What about fuel for the stove?” Christopher looked up from the crossword puzzle he was working. He'd stayed out of the sun as much as possible, but even with sunblock he'd acquired a painful burn.

Jodi opened the cabinet under the stove. “Looks like three half-gallon jugs of alcohol.”

“That's more than enough,” said Price. “While I'm gone, one of you run the engine for a couple hours to recharge the batteries.”

“I'll do that,” said Jodi. “Chris has got to stay out of the sun.” She shut the cabinet door. “Bring back whatever news you can.”

“Goes without saying.” Price unhooked a backpack from inside a storage locker, slung it over his shoulder, and picked up his boat shoes. “If that's it, I'll probably be back around two. Once I get to shore, I've got that long hike to the road. I'll hitch a ride to North Tisbury.” He checked his watch. “It's around nine now. Even if I don't get a ride, it's only a couple of miles to the store.”

“Looks like a good day for whatever,” said Christopher, stretching his arms over his head, pencil in one hand. “I might even go for a swim.”

“Be careful,” said Price. “The water's colder than you think.” He went to the stern of the sailboat and tugged on a line. The dinghy wobbled to the boat like a recalcitrant puppy on a leash. “Take care, you guys. Even if I have to walk both ways, it shouldn't take more than four hours.”

“Got your life jacket?” asked Jodi.

“Always.” Price held the dinghy close and stepped in carefully. “Pass me the oars, Jodi.”

*   *   *

Jodi turned on the blowers to evacuate fumes from the bilge. Christopher finished his puzzle and returned the puzzle book to the bookshelf behind him.

“Need a hand, Jodi?”

“No, thanks.”

“Stupid of me getting this badly sunburned.”

“Your wife's going to wonder where you've been.”

“She'll think golf course. She's so excited about Bruce Steinbicker staying in our guesthouse, she doesn't give a damn about me.” He yawned and stretched. “I believe I'll take my morning constitutional before the sun gets any higher.” He slid out from behind the table, climbed up the short ladder to the cockpit, and walked the few feet to the bow, testing the tension on the wire shrouds as he swung around them. He stopped and shaded his eyes with a hand to watch Price pull the dinghy high onto the shore almost a half-mile from the boat. He waved and Price waved back.

When the engine started up its vibration added to the sway and roll as the boat swung at anchor. Once she'd started the engine, Jodi, too, made her way to the foredeck.

“Hard to believe it's October,” she said. “It's more like summer. Look at those puffy clouds over the mainland.”

“I'm going in the water.” Christopher released his hold on the stay. “I could sure as hell use a bath.” He tugged off his jeans and T-shirt, dropped them onto the deck, and wearing only his briefs made a smooth dive into the clear green water. He came up spluttering, shook his head. “Whoosh! Cold, all right.” He ducked under a couple of times, then swam around to the boarding platform on the stern and hoisted himself up.

Jodi passed him a towel. “Wouldn't catch me diving into something I didn't feel the temperature of first.”

“At least I'm clean. First bath in a week.”

Jodi ran her hands over her exposed arms with the snake-and-vine tattoos and sat next to him in the cockpit. “You know, Chris, I can't help worrying about her.”

“Nothing to worry about. When she woke up she probably had one helluva headache. Price and I were careful not to hurt her.” Christopher toweled his bright hair, and got up, leaving a wet spot on the seat. He made his way to the bow and retrieved his shirt and pants, then sat down again. “She's got everything she needs on that yacht—food, clothing, blankets, books.”

“But still…” Jodi's words trailed off.

“Look, Jodi, we went over the plan ad nauseam. We three agreed. Plain and simple. We didn't want her
dead,
we wanted her to miss that
dead
line.” He smiled at his small joke. “We didn't want to harm her, we didn't want to get ourselves in trouble, and we didn't want to worry our families. Your husband and kids or my wife and kids. Everything's working out just fine.”

Jodi gazed at the deck. “When is Bruce Steinbicker returning to his boat?”

“He said two weeks. Another week to go.”

“The journal's deadline is Friday, two days from now. We're, like, cutting it kinda close, having her on the boat for a week. The journal might extend the deadline.”

Christopher shook his head. “She has several days' work to do on our papers—references, footnotes.” He blotted his sore face and arms gently with the towel. “She has to edit our writing for her style.”

“Her style,” repeated Jodi, scowling. “Bitch.”

Christopher pulled his jeans over his legs, stood up, and zipped up the fly. His wet briefs soaked through the seat of his jeans. He sat down again and pulled on his T-shirt. His drying hair curled around his temples, a bright red-orange.

He tossed the damp towel over the steering wheel. “The journal editors are strict. They can't cut her much slack. They've got their own printing deadlines to meet.”

“Suppose someone in a passing boat spots her?”

“Come on, Jodi. Unlikely. We went over all that. Every possible contingency.” He reached over and patted her leg. “Don't be such a worrywart.”

“I can't stay out here any longer, Chris. Jonah thinks I'm at that conference for a week. A week with the kids, he can handle.” She stood up, moved the towel aside to reach the throttle, and pushed the lever forward. The engine vibrated at a higher pitch and an even rhythm. “Price sure takes good care of this boat.”

“It's his home.” Chris stood up again. “I'd better get inside before I get more sun.” He turned. “If you recall, we never intended for you to stay away longer than a week. You'll be home tomorrow or the day after.”

“Yeah. I guess. I'm homesick, I want my kids. What about your wife and kids?”

“They think the conference was a week. I told them I might stay another day or two to schmooze with colleagues.” He watched the clouds rising over the mainland. “I also said I might go up to Boston, spend a few days doing research at the library.”

“I hate lying to Jonah.” She tugged her cutoffs down so they were more comfortable.

“I know how you feel. You're not really lying, you're dissembling.”

“Lying,” said Jodi.

“It's kind of late to be having second thoughts, Jodi. We discussed your situation, all of us. You were in on it. Price is single, doesn't matter what he does. Anyway, this boat is home for him. You can leave tomorrow. We'd put the word out, hinted, that you and Roberta were going to the same conference I was going to.”

Jodi curled her hands, palms up, and looked at her fingernails. “When we planned this, I didn't expect to look so cruddy. How do I explain this?” She straightened out her fingers so he could see the dirt under her nails.

“Fieldwork,” said Christopher. “Take a swim. It's a great way to get clean. Invigorating.”

Jodi shuddered. “No, thanks. What do I say about Roberta?”

“You seem to have forgotten everything.” Christopher's voice was exasperated. His blue eyes looked through her and beyond. “Jonah thinks you're at a conference, right?”

Jodi squirmed. The cutoffs were really too tight for comfort. “I told him there was a conference. I didn't say I was going. I said I was thinking about going.”

“What did we tell you to say to him when you get home?”

“I'm exhausted, which is almost true, I need to take a long, hot bath, and that is true, and that I've missed him a whole lot, and…” She looked up and smiled.

“He'll have missed you, too. You'll be so wrapped up in your reunion, nothing else will matter, right?”

“Sort of. Yeah.”

“He'll ask you about the conference. What do you say?”

“‘You can't imagine how many people were there,' and then I'll say, ‘Did the boys behave?'”

“Um, hmm,” said Chris. “He'll ask you about Roberta.”

“She and I didn't see much of each other at the conference.”

“Good girl,” said Chris. He looked at the horizon. “Those clouds are building up fast.”

“Pretty.” She looked back at Chris. “Are you sure Roberta won't connect us with her kidnapping?”

“Not kidnapping,” said Chris, moving into the shade of the furled sail. “Detention.”

“Whatever.” Jodi stood and tugged down what remained of the legs of the cutoffs. “You never told us how you got to know Bruce Steinbicker.”

“We went to prep school together. Mount Herman.”

“La, de dah!” said Jodi.

“We've been friends for years. Long before he became a star. Like I told you, he asked to borrow our guesthouse for a week or so, I said sure. Make it two weeks.”

“A girlfriend?”

“I didn't ask. I said I'd keep an eye on his boat.”

“So that's where the kidnapping idea came from.”

“Foolproof. Hasn't the engine been running long enough?”

“What's the matter with you? It hasn't even been an hour.”

“Cabin fever,” said Christopher. “I really got to get below out of the sun.”

“Tell me again. Bruce returns to his boat, and Surprise! A woman's aboard, all upset.”

“You got it,” said Christopher, who was now down in the cabin. “How about a game of Scrabble?”

“And the woman will be so thrilled that Bruce Steinbicker, the famous actor, has discovered her, that she won't press charges.”

“You got it,” said Christopher again.

“Steinbicker will know full well who was involved.”

“Another prep school prank,” said Christopher. “Come on, get out the Scrabble board.”

“People go to jail for stuff like this.”

“You think the authorities will touch Bruce Steinbicker? Not a chance. They'll ask for his autograph. You think he'll give me away?”

“Yes,” said Jodi. “As a matter of fact. I do.”

“Hah! Not after he's spent two weeks in my guesthouse with a friend who's not his wife.”

*   *   *

Price Henderson, owner of the sailboat, rowed to shore, pulled the dinghy high up on the Lambert's Cove beach, hiked the quarter-mile to the road, and stuck out his thumb to the first vehicle that came along. The vehicle, a blue dump truck, stopped.

“Where're you heading?” asked the driver, turning down the volume on the stereo, which was blaring out a mournful country-and-western tune.

“Up Island Cronig's,” said Price. “You going that far?”

“Where I'm heading. Get in.”

Price climbed up into the high passenger seat and the truck took off. The driver extended his hand. “Name's O'Malley. Bill O'Malley.”

“Price Henderson,” said Price, grasping the hand.

“About to have some weather,” said O'Malley, nodding at the threatening sky.

“Looks like it,” said Price.

“Been on the beach?”

Avoiding a direct answer, Price said, “Great place to walk. Pick up stones.”

“Almost warm enough for a swim.”

“Almost,” said Price.

From that point until they reached the intersection with State Road neither spoke. O'Malley pulled into the parking lot, Price got out.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” said O'Malley. “If you're done shopping for boat supplies, I'll be coming by soon as I drop off these stumps.”

“How…” Price started to ask.

“Saw you anchored in the cove this past week and figured it was about time for you to get a few supplies. See you.” With that, O'Malley grinned, put the truck in gear, and drove off, leaving Price with the sick feeling of having been discovered, and by the wrong person.

 

C
HAPTER
24

Price Henderson bought enough supplies for the boat to fill his backpack at Up Island Cronig's, and peered out of the grocery store window to see if O'Malley and the dump truck were waiting for him. He did not want a ride back with that guy. Where had O'Malley been that he could have seen the boat? And who was he, anyway?

Price didn't see the blue truck, but he did see leaves and papers blowing across the parking lot. The trees on either side were swaying in the wind. The sky had turned a greenish black. A jagged streak of lightning flashed nearby followed by a crash of thunder.

A woman with a cartload of groceries stood next to him watching the storm. “We timed our shopping pretty well, didn't we?” She looked like someone's grandmother, with a long white braid trailing down her back, and bright blue eyes set in round rosy cheeks.

“Yes, ma'am,” said Price.

“I love thunderstorms,” the woman said.

“Umm,” Price responded, thinking about the two innocents on his boat, hoping they wouldn't do anything foolish.

“You feel sorry for the poor fishermen caught out in this,” said the woman.

“Yes, you do,” said Price.

The blue dump truck pulled up close to the door and O'Malley dashed out, yellow slicker pulled over his head. The store's automatic door swung open to admit him.

“There you are.” O'Malley pushed back the hood of his slicker. “How're the chickens, Katherine? Still laying?”

She wobbled her hand, palm down. “Maybe one or two eggs a day.”

“I'll take as many as you've got.” He turned to Price. “I don't suppose you want to row back to your boat in this.”

“Boat,” said Katherine. “I wouldn't think so. I was just remarking that I feel sorry for anyone out at sea right now. It's out of season for a hurricane.”