Island of Last Resorts Page 11

  ‘Are you referring to the empty bottle of whisky as a clue?’ Nicki arched an eyebrow. ‘Yes, Chuck Sanborn was an alcoholic. And due to his drinking he didn’t do a good job investigating your wife’s death, or maybe at any point in his career. But an empty whisky bottle isn’t much of a clue. Sanborn didn’t drink himself to death.’ Before Nate or Michael could stop her, Nicki rose to her feet. ‘You, Mr Frazier, are a reclusive wacko with nothing but revenge on the mind. And I won’t play your little game anymore.’

  Frazier studied Nicki like a bug under the microscope. ‘Such a shame you still have so little class after years of rubbing elbows with New Orleans’s elite.’ He clucked his tongue. ‘Mr Creery, take Mrs Galen to her quarters. Rude behavior warrants no supper under my roof.’

  While Nate and his employees watched helplessly, two guards lifted Nicki up and carried her from the room. ‘Is that really necessary?’ Nate demanded.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid it is. I refused to be disrespected in my own home. Now, team two, are you ready to share your findings?’ Frazier’s gaze fell on Izzy and Beth.

  After the two women whispered between themselves, Izzy lifted her hand. ‘Yes, sir, we are. In the library Beth and I studied the official court transcript of The State of Georgia vs Mack Fallon. Assistant Prosecutor, Jennifer Jacobs, asked the judge to dismiss the case because there was insufficient evidence to proceed to trial.’

  Frazier nodded his head sagely. ‘Please tell members of the other team the reason for insufficient evidence.’

  ‘Because Mack Fallon, believed to be the ringleader of the brothers, and also the one who wielded the fatal blows against Mrs Frazier, died of an overdose of heroin before the trial, even though both brothers were being held without bail.’ Izzy inhaled a deep breath.

  ‘Hmmm,’ intoned their host. ‘How do you suppose that lifelong criminal got ahold of drugs?’

  ‘With all due respect, sir,’ Beth interjected, ‘drugs are unfortunately available at most jails and prisons across the nation, despite law enforcement’s desire to keep them out.’

  ‘Such a shame for a thug to meet his Maker under such circumstances.’ Frazier didn’t show an ounce of compassion. ‘But evidence collected at the crime scene placed the younger brother in my house too. Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t Reuben Fallon’s prints found on the murder weapon – the wrench taken from my workbench?’ He stared at Isabelle, waiting for her response.

  Izzy straightened in the chair. ‘Yes, that’s correct. However, the assistant district attorney had no choice but to drop the case against Reuben when the wrench was declared inadmissible as evidence.’

  ‘You’re doing very well, Isabelle – please continue.’

  ‘Detective Sanborn didn’t properly log the wrench in a timely manner at the police station. The murder weapon remained in his unlocked car while he drank at a local bar. Then the evidence stayed in his car overnight until Detective Sanborn went to work the next day.’

  ‘Was the car at least inside his garage?’ Frazier asked, already knowing the answer.

  ‘No, his car was parked on the street.’

  ‘Since the only place Reuben’s fingerprints were found were on the wrench,’ added Beth, ‘when the wrench was thrown out, Jennifer Jacobs was forced to release the second suspect.’

  ‘And Reuben Fallon has been free as a bird all these years because Sanborn was too drunk to do his job. Hence, whisky led to the retired cop’s undoing,’ Frazier concluded.

  ‘All right, we understand why you left the bottle as a clue, but you had no right to take Sanborn’s life,’ said Izzy. ‘Judgement belongs to the Lord.’

  ‘Spoken like a true Sunday School teacher,’ Frazier smirked. ‘Thank you, Isabelle, but I didn’t kill Sanborn. I merely had the clue left where team one would find it and make the connection.’

  Everyone at the table started talking at once, with most of the chatter directed at their host.

  ‘Simmer down,’ Creery threatened, ‘or you’ll all go without dinner like Mrs Galen.’

  ‘Where were you two all day, Mr Frazier?’ Nate asked once the room grew quiet.

  ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but Mr Creery and I have other responsibilities besides hosting this disappointing soirée. Team two didn’t need a babysitter while studying the evidence. If you need someone to vouch for the fact we remained indoors, you may check with my cook or with my butler. Mr Compton, Mrs Norville, and her simpleton son are all the staff I have left on the island.’

  Beth studied the staff in the room. ‘Where are your maids if that boat didn’t come here to pick them up?’

  ‘When Captain Burke brings Mr Manfredi and Miss Weller tomorrow, he will take my remaining staff back to St Simons. In the meantime, they are staying on the third floor for their own protection. If there are no more questions, I shall signal Mr Compton to bring in your supper.’

  ‘I just have one more, sir. Why now?’ Nate kept his voice so calm, he could’ve been asking about tomorrow’s weather. ‘Your wife was killed more than eight years ago. I’m curious why you waited so long to shake the truth from those you hold culpable. If you’re not the one eliminating the suspects one by one, you’re providing an opportunity for the killer to operate. Aren’t you worried you will eventually be arrested?’

  Frazier’s laughter sounded almost cruel. ‘I was wondering when someone would ask that. For years, I’d been biding my time, thinking I had all the time in the world. That was a mistake. According to the best doctors on the east coast, I have less than six months to exact my retribution. Even if law enforcement holds me blameworthy, our court system will never dispense justice in a timely enough fashion for me spend a single day in jail.’

  ‘You’re dying, Mr Frazier?’ asked Izzy.

  ‘I am, Mrs Price, but I refuse to face Ariana without knowing who was behind her murder. So I suggest both teams stop considering me the murderer and concentrate on Bob McDowell, a news reporter in Atlanta; Kurt Ensley, a former public defender, now a lawyer in private practice, and Miss Jennifer Jacobs, the former assistant district attorney for Fulton County. All three were roaming the island today, just like Detective Sanborn. One of them killed him to prevent him from telling what he knew. Just remember, esteemed Price investigators, none of you will go home until I find out who paid the Fallon brothers.’

  ‘I assure you, we’ll do everything in our power to find McDowell, Ensley and Jacobs tomorrow and find out what they know. We don’t need your threats, Mr Frazier. We plan to find your wife’s killer, along with Fallon’s and Sanborn’s, before we even consider going home.’ The venom in Nate’s voice made his intentions abundantly clear.

  When Kate awoke on Tuesday and glanced around the austere bedroom, she had no clue where she was. Then the recent events came rushing back: arriving on St Simons to find her fellow employees already gone from the condo; getting a text that she should take a boat out to a private island; then getting a second text from a boat captain instructing her and Eric to wait another day due to rough seas, same time, same place. Rough seas?

  She bolted upright in bed. ‘Eric, where are you?’ For one uncomfortable moment, Kate feared she might have been dreaming. Did you imagine climbing to the top of the lighthouse, looking out for miles in every direction, gathering shells on Massengale Beach and throwing several starfish back into the ocean? Last night they’d split a seafood platter and took dessert home to share during reruns of old movies. All in all, yesterday had been the most relaxing day they’d had in a long time. ‘Eric?’ she called again.

  ‘I’m here, Sleeping Beauty.’ Her handsome boyfriend carried a flimsy tray into the room. ‘I went for a run and then cooked breakfast, but I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.’ Eric set the tray at the foot of the bed.

  Kate slipped on a robe and sat down on the blanket chest. ‘What did you make us?’ She picked up a mug of coffee.

  ‘In a manner of speaking, blueberry pancakes. The guy who owns this condo sure doesn’t t
ake cooking seriously. All he had in the pantry was bleached white flour, sugar in little packets, margarine instead of butter, and blueberry jam. No frozen fruit, no baking powder and no whipped cream.’ Eric sipped from his own mug.

  ‘It will be just fine.’ Kate smiled at her personal chef as she tried the first bite. ‘Mmmm, not bad; if only we had some whipped cream.’

  Eric stabbed a pancake from the plate, folded it in half, and ate it like a sandwich. ‘I like St Simons Island. I vote we stay here for the week. We found some great restaurants and a bar that plays live music until late at night. What do you say?’ Eric licked jam from his fingertips.

  ‘As intriguing as that sounds, I already promised Nate we’d come to the retreat. He must have had a good reason to change the location.’ Kate continued to eat her pancake with knife and fork in a dignified fashion. ‘I don’t want the boss to think I’m not a team player.’

  Eric rolled his eyes at her corporate jargon. ‘OK, but don’t think you’ll get food this good on Elysian.’ He grabbed the last pancake and headed back to the kitchen.

  While Kate showered and dressed, she contemplated how Nate might react to their late arrival. Hopefully he hadn’t planned any activities which required two teams of four people. But as usually is the case, she needn’t have worried.

  Same as yesterday, Kate and Eric arrived at the town pier promptly at eleven forty-five. And there they sat for a solid hour, watching fishermen feeding bait to the fish, children feeding bread to the fish, and the fish going about their lives in peace. But no yacht arrived to pick them up and take them anywhere, despite the fact barely a ripple broke the surface of the water.

  Eric, whose head had been resting against a post, opened his eyes long enough to scan the horizon. ‘Captain Burke doesn’t seem to be coming for us,’ he said.

  ‘It would appear that way.’ Kate stretched to her feet.

  ‘Have you tried texting Nate or maybe calling that boat captain? You should have his number since the captain texted you.’

  ‘Yes, Eric, that occurred to me too. I tried both of them while you were napping.’ Unfortunately, Kate sounded a tad sarcastic.

  Eric drew his sunglasses down with one finger. ‘Don’t get huffy with me, missy. I voted to forget this whole idea.’

  Embarrassed, Kate dropped her chin to her chest. ‘Sorry, feeling foolish makes me crabby. I keep thinking it’s me who’s getting the signals wrong.’

  Eric wrapped both arms around her waist. ‘I listened to the captain’s message too. You’re not getting anything wrong. Something’s going on out on Elysian. We just don’t know what.’

  ‘You’re such an amazing man. Why do you put up with me?’ Kate kissed him softly on the cheek.

  ‘I’m a sucker for a woman who eats whatever I put on her plate. What do you want to try next?’

  Kate pondered a moment. ‘I vote we go back to John’s condo. We need to seriously research Elysian Island, especially the person who owns it now. I got a bad feeling someone’s trying to keep us away.’

  Once at the condo, Kate started a pot of coffee and pulled out her laptop. It wasn’t easy gleaning more information than what Eric found on Google. And unfortunately the agency’s internet expert, Michael, was on the island. But after an hour’s search of real-estate transfers in the state of Georgia, Kate discovered the name of the current owner. Approximately ten years ago, Julian and Ariana Frazier purchased the island from a real-estate holding company, primarily as a nature preserve for tax purposes and as a private retreat for the rich and famous. Not exactly an apt description for Nate Price and employees.

  Searching the database of Georgia business tycoons yielded how Julian Frazier had earned his millions. Frazier had begun the best-known manufacturer of auto parts in the state and had later taken his company public, generating billions. He retired as CEO right around the time he bought the island, but retained a majority ownership of the company’s stock. Although Frazier shunned the public eye, Kate located several old photos of Ariana Frazier, a woman at least twenty years his junior, on Atlanta society pages. While Kate continued to research Nate’s host for the week, Eric called the local phone company for information on reaching the island.

  Just as Kate returned with fresh mugs of coffee, Eric hung up with a scowl. ‘Guess what? I explained we’ve been trying to contact friends on Elysian Island for days and can’t get through. The customer service tech said sometimes cell phones work and sometimes they don’t. It depends on the service provider, the weather, and believe it or not the time of day, because sound waves travel better at night. When I said we tried at all times, she agreed to call the island’s landline but refused to give me the number. She just called me back and said the phone line seems to be out of order. She put in a service request, but it could take weeks since the cable lies under the ocean. What century is this?’

  Kate handed him a mug, then filled him in on what she’d learned about the reclusive billionaire. ‘Who’s to say this Frazier guy hasn’t gone crazy from all the peace and quiet? I agree something’s going on out there and it isn’t good.’ Kate shut her laptop. ‘We need to find a marina on St Simons. How much money did you bring for our little getaway? If we pool our funds, maybe we can pay somebody with a boat to take us to Elysian.’

  Eric pulled out his wallet with a smirk. ‘How’d I know your company retreat was going to cost me? I got a few hundred, plus plastic.’ He laid his money on the table.

  Kate found less than eighty dollars in her purse which she added to his pile. ‘I promise you, Nate will reimburse every penny … or I will. Now let’s pack some sandwiches and grab a few bottles of water. We might need provisions on our way to the island.’

  However, they ate those sandwiches and drank the water sitting at a marina, staring at the water. They asked every boat owner they could find on a Tuesday afternoon at both the large private marina off the causeway and a small public marina on Gascoigne’s Bluff, but no one was willing to take two strangers out to Elysian Island. Everyone gave more or less the same reason.

  ‘No, ma’am, that island is private and Mr Frazier expects his privacy to be respected. Good day to you.’

  ‘Sorry, but boats ain’t allowed to pull up to that private dock. They’re not even allowed to drop anchor within five hundred yards.’

  And two boat owners were less polite but more forthright.

  ‘Nope, I don’t need money that much to try to dock a boat on Elysian. The signs say “No trespassing” everywhere around that island and that guy means every word of it.’

  And: ‘No way. Our grandkids took jet skis around the island to the nature preserve where the turtles nest and birds roost on their way to South America. They meant no harm, just wanted to look around. An armed guard walked out of the brush and ordered the kids to get back on their jet skis or he’d make them swim back to Simons. My grandkids were just fifteen and sixteen at the time.’

  As Kate and Eric headed toward the car, Kate grew more discouraged by the minute. ‘What are you thinking, Manfredi?’ she asked.

  ‘I think there’s got to be a way to get out there.’ Eric rubbed the back of his neck. ‘The people we asked are well known in the marina and maybe all over the island. Someone must be willing to incur the wrath of the local billionaire for four-hundred-eighty dollars. Where could we find such a rebel?’

  ‘If he’s anywhere, he won’t be at the fancy yacht club.’ Kate climbed in behind the wheel. ‘Let’s drive around watching for homes with boat docks on rivers like the Little River or the Frederica.’

  It was almost dark by the time Kate spotted a small house with a boat dock on the Crooked Creek, which fed into the Mackay River, then into St Simons Sound and the Atlantic Ocean beyond. They sprang from Eric’s SUV and hurried toward the front door. But as they got closer they noticed the home’s peeling paint and loose shingles on the roof. More importantly, the dock out back was sagging ominously to one side. But Kate focused mainly on the boat.

  Eric grab
bed her arm. ‘Are you sure you want to ask this family? From the looks of things, their boat may not be seaworthy.’

  Kate shook her head. ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover, Manfredi. Let’s at least ask.’ She knocked with confidence.

  After a short wait, a long-haired, long-bearded man opened the door. ‘Can I help ya? Are you folks lost?’

  ‘No, sir, we’re not. But we noticed you’ve got a powerboat at your dock and we’re in desperate need of one. Could we come inside and talk?’

  The aging hippie looked them over from head-to-toe. ‘Neither of you appears to be dangerous …’ He swung open the door. ‘Come in and have a seat. Name’s Greg Dotson.’

  ‘Thanks. Kate Weller and Eric Manfredi.’ She and Eric entered the clean but cluttered living room of a true bibliophile. Hundreds of books filled his built-in bookcases, while his coffee table was stacked with newspapers.

  ‘Sorry, the place is a mess. I wasn’t expectin’ company.’ Greg moved more books from a chair.

  ‘Your home is fine,’ said Kate. ‘We’re sorry to barge in.’

  Eric cleared his throat. ‘May I ask, sir, if that cabin cruiser out back is seaworthy?’

  ‘My cabin cruiser has never been in better shape, sir.’ He mimicked Eric’s overly polite accent. ‘And why would this be your business?’

  Kate stepped in front of him. ‘Don’t pay any attention to my friend. Eric’s not familiar with well-maintained classic Chris Crafts. My dad took me fishing on a twenty-two-foot Cadet Cabin. Is yours a Constellation, a thirty-footer? That beauty will be seaworthy long after we’re dead and buried.’

  ‘It is a thirty!’ The man extended a callused hand. ‘Where are you from, Kate?’

  ‘Eric and I now live in Charleston, but I’m originally from Pensacola.’ They all shook hands heartily.

  Dotson pointed at his sofa. ‘Take a load off. What brought you here from the Gulf of Mexico?’

  Kate sat down, while Eric perched on the sofa’s arm. ‘That is a long story. Right now it’s crucial Eric and I reach Elysian Island as soon as possible because we believe our friends are in trouble. We’re hoping you’ll take us there.’