“So what? You just proved what I was saying to you! If you think Jerry killed Allison, do you think he assaulted me, too? While you have him locked up? Are you nuts?” she asked, sitting up in bed and scowling at the men.

“This is a small island, Mrs. Gordon, but we have our bad people, too. A person who is locked up, a person of means as your husband appears to be-” He stopped and looked around the luxury cottage before going on. “A person like that could hire a bad person to do these things for him.”

“My husband would not hire someone to hurt me!” Kathleen said, standing up and yelling right in the oldest officer’s face. “Get out of my cottage. Now!”

“We must file report. We’ll be back for you to sign it,” the younger man said.

“I won’t sign anything,” Kathleen said, turning her back on the men. “Now please leave my cottage.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

“You should lie back down,” Susan said, trying to guide Kathleen toward the bed. “Please, Kath. You can’t help Jerry unless you take care of yourself.”

Kathleen sat on the bed. “I don’t seem to be capable of helping Jerry period.”

“I’m going to call Frances Adams. Maybe she can help us.”

“Who?”

“Frances Adams. The American embassy representative on the island.”

“Oh, yes. I met her. That might be a good idea,” Kathleen said quietly.

“Are you all right? Are you feeling nauseous? Faint?”

“I’m just terribly tired. You know, I think I will lie down for a while. Maybe take a nap.”

“I shouldn’t leave you alone.”

“You should. I’m okay, Susan. Just unhappy and tired. You go do what you have to do. Maybe you can help Jerry. I sure don’t seem to be able to.”

“I’ll call Ms. Adams.”

“And I’ll take a nap.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ll be fine. One thing about these louvered windows-someone will hear if I call out.”

“I guess so. You know one thing that bothers me about this place?”

“What?”

“The lack of phones. I hate the fact that Lila or someone in the office overhears all our conversations.”

“We should have brought international cell phones. You can rent them. Jerry actually suggested it, but I didn’t want him checking in with work and vetoed the idea. What an idiot I was.”

“You had no idea all this was going to happen.”

“You can say that again.” Kathleen closed her eyes.

“Do you want me to wake you up for dinner?”

“When are you going to eat?”

“Around seven?”

“I’ll meet you in the restaurant. Save me a seat.”

“Sure. See you then.”

“Uh-huh.”

Susan smiled. Kathleen was already drifting off to sleep, so she quietly shut the door and started toward the office, stopping to stick her head in the gift shop. James was lounging against the wall, smiling seductively at the attractive young woman who was sitting behind the cash register pretending to work. Susan thanked him for his help in organizing and moving Kathleen, then explained that her friend was resting. “She promised me she would yell out if she needed something. Since you’re close by, I wonder if you would just keep an ear out-just in case.”

“Of course. Lila expects us to do all we can to help the guests. I’m here until six tonight. If she calls, I’ll run.”

“Thank you so much,” Susan said, thinking that she was going to have a lot to remember when it came time to pass out tips.

Lila was in her office with the door closed. A woman Susan didn’t recognize was manning the desk. “I need to make a phone call,” Susan said.

“Of course, Mrs. Henshaw. Do you need a phone book?”

“I want to speak to Frances Adams. She works for the United States embassy office.”

“I can get that number for you. We have it right here in this little book.” She flipped through the pages of a small, worn notebook and found the number immediately. “I can dial for you. Phones on this island are not what you’re used to in the United States.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” Susan didn’t say any more as the door to Lila’s office opened and she came out, followed by the two officers who had been so horrible to Kathleen. In an example of dreadful timing, their appearance coincided with the call going through.

“Ms. Adams,” the young woman announced in a tone no one could ignore and handed Susan the receiver.

“Thank you.” There was nothing she could do but take the call. “Hello, Ms. Adams. This is Susan Henshaw… Of course, Frances. I-” She paused and looked at her audience. “I’d like to speak to you about something… Wherever it would be convenient… Let me write down the address.” The woman who had dialed the embassy for Susan pushed a pencil and paper toward her. “Thank you.” Susan wrote quickly. “I’ll be there in less than half an hour. Bye.” She handed the receiver back. “I must go get my purse and talk to Jed. Could you call me a cab and tell them this is where I need to go? Thanks.”

Susan turned and walked away without even acknowledging the police officers’ presence. Back at her cottage she found Jed napping after his large lunch. Susan woke him enough to tell him what she was doing and then wrote a note in case he woke up later and couldn’t remember a thing she had said. Finally she grabbed her purse and took off.

Susan’s cab once again splattered coral chips into the sky as it took off toward town. As they approached the more populated area of the island, her driver made a sharp turn and entered what looked to be jungle. The trees narrowly parted for the dirt road, and the buildings disappeared.

Susan leaned forward so the driver could hear what she said over the noise of his engine. “This isn’t the right way!” she yelled. “I’m going to see Frances Adams. She works at the United States embassy offices.”

“Yes. Ms. Adams. That’s where I take you,” he yelled back, swerving to avoid a scrawny black chicken busily pecking at something in the middle of their path.

“This isn’t the way to the embassy, is it? We don’t seem to be going downtown,” Susan called back when she could sit up again.

“Not embassy. Not downtown. Ms. Adams. You wait. You’ll see.”

For the first time the possibility of kidnapping occurred to Susan. Who had told this driver where to take her? She was alone in a foreign country. No one knew where she was. She could vanish, and no one would ever be the wiser. Jed would look for her. Kathleen would look for her. She wouldn’t have succeeded in helping Jerry, and he might rot in a foreign prison. She was busily creating a plot for a B movie, when, pulling the steering wheel sharply to the right, the taxi driver flew between two large stone columns and entered paradise.

It was, quite simply, the most beautiful place Susan had ever seen. Deep green lawns were bracketed by wide beds where tropical flowers rioted. The white pebble drive led up to a pale peach stucco house fronted by a wide mahogany veranda. White stone steps led down to the ground, and Susan could imagine Cole Porter, wearing a white tuxedo jacket, martini in hand, descending to greet his guests.

Instead Frances Adams, in well-worn jeans, a white linen camp shirt, and pink plastic flip-flops on her feet, appeared at the top of the stairs, waved, and called out a greeting.

The cabdriver slowly approached the house, got out, and opened the door for his passenger. Susan fumbled around in her purse.

“I pick you up. You pay me then.”

“That’s fine, but how will I call you?”

“Ms. Adams knows how,” he explained, and climbed back in his cab and drove off.

“I like that driver,” Frances Adams said. “He doesn’t make a mess of the drive the way many of the other drivers do.”

“This is incredible,” Susan said, looking around. From the vantage point of the house, the garden seemed almost to embrace them. “And absolutely gorgeous.”

“It had what gardeners call good bones when I arrived; the main beds were laid out and most of the walls built. The house was in disrepair, but still very beautiful. I’ve lived here for sixteen years and put most of my free time and much of my money into this place. Gardening is a passion.