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“Hurt?”
“Yes, it hurts.”
“Sorry.” He tried again, moving the joint very slowly. “Just want to make sure it’s not broken.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s just a little strained.”
“But we’d better stay here a while and let it rest. That’s a nasty hike back to the boat with a bum ankle. I’m not sure I’m up to carrying a grown woman out of here.”
“I’m so sorry. I feel like such a klutz.”
He shrugged, smiling, then backed off.
“You think you’re okay here?” he asked. “I’m going to go back to the boat. There are some sandwiches and fruit in my cooler. I’m getting hungry.”
“I hate to be so much trouble.”
“Well, you did pay me five-hundred bucks. Might as well get your money’s worth. You sit tight, don’t move. We’ll put your leg up.” He dragged over a footstool and rested her leg on top. “I think I might have an ice-pack in the boat. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” Alex Greenwood moved out quickly, leaving Laney the alone time she so desired.
Laney put her head back and rested, trying to quell her agitation. She remembered her mission—information about the Marquis. She had nothing so far, and if she left now the trip would have been a complete waste.
Finally opening her eyes, Laney looked about. It was one bit of luck to have been left in the library. With a lawyer’s keen eye for detail, she gazed around the room, her eyes searching for something. Although she had little hope of finding what she wanted, she had to try. She had only twenty minutes to herself—and had probably wasted the first five, so despite the bum ankle, she pulled herself up by her arms, and began to hop about on one foot, looking through the books that were strewn across the floor. With its appalling message emblazoned forever on her psyche, she’d recognize the thin black leather book in a heartbeat. As she searched, she kept looking out the library window where she had a full view of the path that led to the beach, and would see her guide on his return. She finally reached the far bookcase, where there were still a number of volumes sitting upright. Many were leather bound and cumbersome Encyclopedias from 1963, quite unlike the Marquis’ small missal. She pulled each aside and felt behind it, looking for something hidden there. She searched one shelf, then a second. She had to stretch a bit to reach, but suddenly her heart leapt with excitement as her hand reached back behind two heavy books and found something—definitely a hidden book. She tugged and finally stumbled back, wincing as she stepped on her bum ankle. But she was gladdened by her find.
This was not the black volume she hoped for, but her heart practically stopped the instant she read the title of the slim, burgundy leather book, Property of the Marquis.
Her heart began to beat rapidly.
Her eyes strayed to the bracelets on her wrists and the platinum one that was deliberately hidden by half a dozen bangles. The inscription: Property of the Marquis, exactly as it appeared on the book she held.
A moment later, she heard the sound of the fisherman whistling. One glance out the window and she saw him walking rapidly toward the house. She came down on her ankle again, as she started back toward the chair. “Yeeeouch!” she grimaced. She hopped the rest of the way with the book in hand and shoved it into her backpack. Then, after gently propping her foot on the stool, she took a deep breath. She looked up when she heard Alex’s footsteps coming into the house. Her eyes suddenly fixed on the bookcase from across the room, seeing the volumes of the Encyclopedia now in disarray. Would the fisherman notice? she wondered guiltily.
She felt dreadfully chagrined. But was a little innocent search so bad? A little curiosity? Of course not. Laney wasn’t one to lie or steal or manufacture schemes to hide her intentions, now in one day, she’d done all that. And with her mysterious prize now stuffed into her backpack, she felt like a naughty child with a stolen cookie.
“You been good?” the fisherman entered the room, like he actually knew what she had done, although there was a big smile across his face. Forgetting the question, he set his knapsack on the floor and pulled out an ice pack that he carefully positioned on Laney’s ankle.
“Did I get the sore spot?”
“Yes, yes, that’s great. Thanks.” She could already feel the cold starting to numb the ache.
Then Alex pulled out two sandwiches, handed her one, then sat in a chair opposite hers to eat. Laney smiled. Nothing like food to quell ones nerves. She opened the baggie finding a delicious looking turkey sandwich on rye, with Swiss cheese, pickles, the works. The man certainly had good taste.
“Thanks, this looks a lot better than my granola bar.”
“I always travel prepared. A fisherman never knows what’s going to happen when he’s on his boat.”
They ate in silence, Laney’s concern over the stolen book all but forgotten, although her curiosity about the man turned into a simple question.
“So, how did you happen to be the caretaker of the island?”
“Well, that’s kind of mistaking my role. There is no caretaker anymore, not since Devane died.”
“I thought he owned the island,” she said.
“No.” He shook his head. “The owner is some guy who lives in Europe most of the time. I check the place about once a month, maybe more if I’m by here. But no one uses the place anymore except for the vandals, as you can see. This building hasn’t been safe for some time.” He looked up toward the ceiling as if he expected it to fall down any minute.
“So, have you been doing this long?”
“Just after old Archie died a couple years back I got a call. It puts some extra money in my pocket now and then. Although I kind of like the old place. Sometimes I sleep here when I need a place off the water and it’s too far back to port. But that’s not very often.”
