The Undertaker's Widow (18 page)

Andrea had told Quinn that the villa overlooked the ocean. He had not noticed any turnoffs between the village and the cove, so he headed away from the village. He assumed that Andrea had not walked far in the heat. After driving two miles without spotting a side road, Quinn began to wonder if Andrea had been dropped off
at the cove and was counting on him to drive her back to the villa.

Another roadside collection of shacks appeared a short distance ahead. Quinn slowed, looking for someone he could ask for directions to the villa. Halfway through the makeshift town, Quinn saw a concrete-block building slightly larger than the rest. A sign dangled from a roof that overhung a small porch. Quinn guessed that the building housed a shop. He started to slow down when he spotted a metal cooler advertising Coca-Cola at the far end of the porch. The soldiers in the jeep were sitting next to it, drinking sodas. As the Rover neared the shop, they stopped sipping their drinks and watched it.

It occurred to Quinn that he knew very little about Andrea and that the subject of drugs had come up several times since they had met. There was the drug dealer who owned the villa where she was staying and the cocaine she had found there. Andrea was also knowledgeable about Governor Alvarez's drug connections. If Andrea's murder was drug related, the authorities could be involved.

Even if Andrea's death had no connection to drugs, it might not be smart to tell the soldiers about the murder. Would they believe Quinn if he said that a diver appeared out of nowhere and spirited Andrea away? The story sounded fantastic even to Quinn, and he had witnessed the murder. It was possible that the soldiers would conclude that Quinn and Andrea were lovers who fought and that Quinn, afraid that Andrea would ruin his marriage and career, had drowned her.

Quinn made a quick decision. He would drive back to the Bay Reef Resort and explain what happened to the manager or one of the organizers of the convention. There might even be an attorney from St. Jerome at the conference with whom he could consult. Quinn made a U-turn and hoped that the soldiers did not follow him.

•   •   •

When Quinn arrived at the Bay Reef the sun had almost set and he was in the grip of a mind-numbing depression. Quinn dropped off the rental car with the valet and entered the lobby. Heat and fear had caused him to sweat through his T-shirt. As he walked across the terrazzo floor, he imagined that everyone was staring at him. Quinn jumped when someone touched his elbow.

“Judge Quinn?” asked a heavyset man wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a Hawaiian shirt. Quinn's vision blurred from fatigue. He could not place the man, but he faked a smile.

“Cliff Engel. We met at the ABA convention in Chicago.”

“Oh, right,” Quinn answered, vaguely remembering Engel as someone he'd had lunch with after a committee meeting.

“Been down by the beach?” Engel asked after spotting the top of Quinn's swimming trunks poking out above the waist of his shorts.

“Yes. I'm pretty wiped out,” Quinn added hastily. “This sun takes it out of you. I thought I'd take a nap.”

“Oh, too bad. I was hoping you'd join Nancy and me for a drink and dinner. We're with the Lyles. You met Gary at the ABA. He's one of my partners.”

“Sorry,” Quinn said, forcing his smile to widen, “but I'm all in. I'll see you tomorrow, though.”

“Sure thing. I can't wait to hear your talk. Maybe we can have that drink after you speak.”

“Sounds good.”

Engel pumped Quinn's hand and strode off toward the bar. Quinn sagged. When Engel had touched him, Quinn was certain it was a policeman making an arrest. His heart was still beating hard.

Quinn crowded into an elevator with two couples who were speaking French, and stood at the back of the
car. He could not wait to get to his room. He planned to take a cold shower and clear his head, then figure out his next step.

Quinn opened the door to his room and froze. Laura was sitting in a chair, looking cool and beautiful in a T-shirt and shorts.

“What … what are you doing here?”

Laura laughed. “You should see your face.”

“I … I thought you were in Miami all week.”

“Aren't you glad to see me?” she asked with a grin.

“Of course,” Quinn lied.

Laura stood up and started across the room toward him. Under any other circumstances, Quinn would have been overjoyed to see Laura. Two days ago he had been crushed when she refused to fly with him to this island paradise. Now, the last thing he wanted was to find Laura in his hotel room, and the thought that she might want to make love terrified him.

Laura started to put her arms around Quinn, but he stopped her.

“You're all clean and I'm sweating like a pig,” he said. “Give me a rain check on that kiss until I've showered.”

Laura sniffed. “You are a little ripe.”

Quinn faked a laugh and forced a smile. “So what happened in Miami?”

Laura followed Quinn into the bathroom and told him about her experience while he got ready to shower. He only half listened as Laura told him about Miami. What, he wondered, was he going to tell his wife about his day at the beach, if she asked?

“I was pissed, as you can imagine,” Laura concluded. “Mort told me to fly home. I was going to, but I thought about you being alone on St. Jerome. I really did feel lousy about ruining your vacation. Fortunately, there was a seat on the early morning flight.”

“Well, that's … that's great.”

“What have you been doing all day?”

“I, uh, I rented a car and drove around the island.”

“See anything interesting?”

“Not really. Everyone is pretty poor. Except for the capital, there's not much here. But the resort is great.”

“How's the food, because I'm starved?”

“Good. Why don't you make a reservation for us at the Plantation Room while I shower? It's a four-star restaurant.”

It was seven-thirty. Laura was able to get a reservation at eight. Quinn drew out his shower for as long as possible, using the time to decide how much he could tell Laura about the murder and Andrea. Quinn wanted to confess his infidelity and seek her counsel, but he also wanted to protect her from involvement in his nightmare, and he was terrified of her reaction to what had happened between him and Andrea.

By the time Quinn finished shaving, it was time to eat. Many of the attorneys who were enrolled in the seminar were eating in the Plantation Room and several of them recognized Quinn from American Bar Association functions. After dinner, Quinn and Laura found themselves barhopping in Puerta del Sol with Cliff Engel, Gary Lyle, their wives and two other couples. Quinn was glad to be hijacked. Laura and Cliff Engel got into a discussion about real estate transactions and Quinn was able to use the time to think about what he should do while the others became more rowdy from drink.

It was two in the morning when Quinn and Laura stumbled into their hotel room. Laura was mildly intoxicated. Quinn had hardly touched any of the drinks that had been thrust upon him. He was afraid of what he might say or do if he got drunk.

“Gary Lyle is a horse's ass,” Laura said as she collapsed
on the bed fully clothed, “but I like his friend Cliff.”

“He seemed okay,” Quinn answered as he shucked his jacket and sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes.

Laura sat up and draped an arm across her husband's shoulders.

“You were quiet tonight.”

“Was I? I'm just tired, I guess.”

Laura leaned into Quinn. She slipped her hand inside his shirt and ran it slowly back and forth across his chest.

“Not too tired, I hope.”

Before Quinn could answer, Laura's lips were melting onto his. Laura pressed Quinn onto his back and finished unbuttoning his shirt. Then she slid down the straps of her dress and shrugged it off. Quinn's throat was dry. It had been so long since Laura had initiated sex.

Laura slid out of her bra and panties. Her breasts were high and firm and her skin was the color of cream. She sank to her knees between Quinn's legs and unzipped his pants. He did not move as she slid them down his legs, then did the same with his underpants. He closed his eyes and began to swim in sensation. There was a feeling of silk on skin as Laura slid against him and up the length of his body. He could smell her hair. He could taste her lips and her tongue. Then he saw Andrea's face frozen in terror as she burst from the sea.

Quinn's eyes opened. He was sweating. He held Laura tightly. Laura could not hear Andrea's scream, but she must have heard the rapid beat of his heart, because she pulled back and looked at Quinn.

“What's wrong?”

Quinn did not answer. He sat up and put his feet on the floor. His breathing was ragged. Laura's eyes widened.
She was afraid that Quinn was having a heart attack.

“Are you all right?”

Quinn needed to confess, to unburden himself. But how could he talk to Laura about the things that had happened in the cove? The bed moved as she slipped to the floor in front of Quinn and took his hands in hers. She looked so concerned. Quinn saw with crystal clarity that this was the pivotal moment in their marriage. Laura was his wife, but for months he had not been certain that she loved him. If she did, they would ride out this tragedy together. If she did not, his confession could sever the slender thread that bound them together.

Laura squeezed his hand. “Dick?”

Quinn could not keep his terror and despair inside any longer. He needed help and he prayed that Laura was the person to turn to for it.

“Something happened today,” Quinn managed. “Something very bad. I … I was with a woman.”

“What?”

“She was someone I met on the plane. She sat next to me on the flight from New York. Her name was Andrea Chapman. She's dead. She was murdered.”

Laura stared at Quinn, too stunned to speak. Quinn focused on the floor as he told Laura about Andrea's invitation to spend the day at the Cove of Lost Souls. Then Quinn told Laura how Andrea died.

“One minute she was there, then she was gone. I thought she was playing a game until she screamed.” Quinn shook his head to rid himself of the image. “I tried to save her. I dove down and grabbed the diver's arm, but I swallowed water and I had to come up for air. I was choking.” Quinn paused. He was having trouble breathing, as if he were underwater again. “When I dove the second time, Andrea and the diver were almost out
of sight. When I went under the third time, they were gone.”

“Have you told the police?”

“No. I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Andrea talked about drugs. She said the police are corrupt. That they work with drug dealers. The killing could be drug related. And …”

Quinn's voice trailed off. Laura studied him.

“Did anything happen between the two of you, Dick?”

Quinn did not answer. His head hung lower.

“Did you … were you … intimate?” Laura asked, using this bland term because it provided a barrier between her feelings and her fear.

“We didn't … It never got that far,” Quinn answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“How far did it get?”

Quinn tried to answer the question, but he could not. Laura stood up and walked away from the bed.

“I don't know what happened,” Quinn told her without conviction. His eyes begged for forgiveness, but he did not see any give in Laura's rigid features.

“It was just a kiss. We … we only touched one time.”

Quinn wanted to tell her that nothing would have happened, that he would have remained faithful, but the lie died unspoken.

Laura paced back and forth. Quinn felt smaller and smaller as each moment passed in silence. Laura sat in a chair near the window. She was thinking like an attorney so she would not have to think like a woman.

“How certain are you that you can't be connected to the murder?” Laura asked.

“I don't know. I don't think my fingerprints are on anything, but I can't be certain. Even if they are, the St.
Jerome Police won't have the technology to match them unless I become a suspect.”

“Were there any witnesses? Anyone who knows that you were with this woman?”

“I don't think so.”

Quinn told Laura about the soldiers in the jeep and the people in the village.

“But they didn't see me with Andrea. I did sit next to her on the plane. Another passenger may have heard us make plans to meet, but I doubt it.”

“How certain are you about the corruption on St. Jerome?”

“Andrea was pretty emphatic about it. I have heard other things. One of the organizers of the conference made some remarks while we were talking.”

“Given what you know about the government of St. Jerome, I think going to the authorities would be a mistake, especially now that you've waited to come forward. That looks very suspicious. If you went to the police, you wouldn't be able to tell them anything, anyway.”

“You're right. I'm not even sure of the sex of the diver.”

“If this came out, you being with this … this woman in the cove, the murder. If you became a suspect … The effect on your career would be devastating.”

“Then, you think I should say nothing?”

“It's a gamble. There's no telling when the body will be discovered. With luck, you'll be back home and no one will connect you to the crime.”

“Thank you, Laura.”

“Don't thank me,” Laura answered harshly. “I'm doing this for me as much as for you. Do you think I want to be involved in your sordid affair or with the police?”

Laura walked over to the desk and picked up the phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm going to get a seat on the next flight back to Portland.”

“Don't leave me. Please. I need you.”

“You should have thought about that when you cheated on me.”