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“You’ve been there before?” he briefly glanced her way.
“Once. A few years back. I was stranded there with my husband and some friends.”
“So, why go back?”
She had no intention of telling him the real reason, but she was prepared for the question and had her explanation ready. “I’m a photographer. I’m scouting out places to do fashion photo shoots. Marquis Island would be perfect. There’s a breathless tropical ambience you just can’t duplicate with sets.”
The fellow looked up again, a bit more interested now. He cocked his head and squinted, his deeply suntanned skin creasing at the corners of his eyes, He raised his hand to shade them from the sun’s glare. He probably couldn’t see her face with sun behind her.
“Five hundred dollars. US,” he said.
“Five hundred?” she looked shocked, but she really didn’t care. She’d pay him five thousand if that’s what it took.
“That’s the price. Take it or leave it. We can shove off tomorrow ‘bout noon, after I’m back from my early morning rounds.”
“Okay, I’ll be here.”
“Cash. Small bills, please, something I can spend.”
“You’ll have it.” She had twice as much cash in her purse. “I’m Laney Priestly,” she held out her hand.
He shook his head and smiled, holding up his grimy ones for her to see.
She smiled back. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
After a thorough inspection of the fisherman, she decided that there was nothing particularly unusual about him. He had an average build, muscled as you would expect from his occupation. He had a direct m
anner, and appeared honest and hard-working. She’d give him a decent tip.
“Alex Greenwood,” he said.
“I’ll be here at noon,” she replied.
“I should be back by then, but don’t worry if I’m not, I won’t forget.”
“Okay,” she smiled warmly.
Laney’s worries settled, knowing that she had a means to get back on the island. What troubled her more was the death of Archibald Devane, something she hadn’t expected. It was in her mind to speak with him about the island, the bracelet and the Marquis. What answers to her dilemma that the island could give up on its own she wasn’t sure of, and this put her trip in a whole new light. But she also knew that regardless of her narrowed opportunities for information, she’d make the trek and hope she’d find something on the island to guide her next step.
Chapter Three
An empty barrel sitting on the dock beside Alex Greenwood’s boat slip became a perch to wait on. Like the day before, the midday sun beat against Laney’s skin. She wore khaki hiking shorts and a sleeveless cotton shirt and a lacy black bra. Staying cool in this heat was proving difficult. She hoped that Marquis Island would be more pleasant. Instead of her purse, she stuffed a number of items into a backpack: a change of clothes, some granola bars and beef jerky, just in case, and three bottles of water. This was intended to be a day trip, but you never knew what the weather might be like in this part of the world. She’d been stranded there once, and wanted to be prepared.
To remain accurate to her cover story, she carried her camera on a strap that went around her neck. Taking pictures could be an excellent diversion should the conversation with her guide lag.
At half past noon, Alex Greenwood and his boat, Princess Sea Bird, pulled into the boat slip.
“You ready?”
“I’m here!” she said with a sunny smile, as she let the man help her into his boat. What had once been covered with fishing nets and his equipment was now cleaned out and washed down. Two deck chairs sat where the nets had been, under a small canopy.
“Make yourself at home,” he said. “I’ll get us started. Trip should take about two hours.”
***
Alex Greenwood’s boat landed at a broken down dock about three o’clock. The fisherman tied up to a piling, and helped Laney to the shady beach. She’d noticed sometime earlier that he cleaned up rather nicely. Wearing a fresh and much newer t-shirt and baggy shorts, he could have easily been a tourist, not a fisherman taking a few hours off in the middle of a day. If he trimmed up his unkempt hair and scruffy beard, he might even be handsome.
The hike up the beach was more strenuous than Laney remembered it. With Erik and their friends, it had taken place during a stormy night when getting undercover was of utmost importance. Now her legs felt a little weak by the time she and the fisherman made it through the rocks and the tall grasses and spotted the estate house some yards beyond. It was a welcome sight and one she remembered with a pang of grief she’d not felt since her trip to Marquis began. She remembered Erik leading his party of friends to the safety of the house the night they were stranded on the beach. She knew that the imprint of his easy dominance would linger on her psyche forever.
