I hunkered down in the dense grasses that divided two of the older tombs. I prayed there wasn't a fire-ant mound nearby, but none of the pests had invaded the territory of the dead. I did manage to scrape my elbow good on a corner of Nora Goertz's tomb and winced at the sudden, sharp pain. I didn't have much time to inspect the wound. Philip's baritone carried toward me on the never-ending wind, another softer voice answering his. I lay flat in the tall grass, not daring to peer around the monument. My choices were few.
And what are you going to do if they spot you? Claim you're sunbathing? In a graveyard? I didn't have a clue. I decided not to fret until the problem presented itself.
I inched my face around the corner of the tomb and saw them stroll past the saltcedars: Philip huffing along, followed-surprisingly-by Wendy Tran. He appeared angry; she seemed fidgety. Even at this distance I could see her glance around nervously, as though expecting unwanted visitors.
They stopped at the gate to the cemetery. Philip mopped his glistening forehead with a raggedy handkerchief. Wendy stopped and crossed her arms. She said something I couldn't hear and looked back over her shoulder. I ducked my head behind the tomb. I couldn't see them, and they, I hoped, hadn't seen me.
“I'm not gonna keep you long,” Philip said. “Lunch'll wait. You got the money?”
“Of course not. I need more time, Philip.” Her voice sounded tight and controlled. I wondered if she was quite as placid as she acted in the comfort of her kitchen.
“I don't have much time myself, darlin'. I can't be waiting on you to work your magic if it's gonna take all weekend.”
“Philip. Mutt's not here today. I can't get the cash from him if he's gone arranging his sister's funeral. No one planned for Lolly to die.”
“Maybe someone did.” Philip spoke so softly that I could barely hear him. Sweat stung my eyes, blood stuck dirt to my elbow, and a mosquito roosted on my bare calf for lunch; but I didn't dare move. I could feel the thud of my heart against the earth.
Wendy didn't answer immediately, and for one sinking moment I thought I'd been spotted. “That's a horrible thing to say. Poor Lolly.”
“Yeah, right.” Philip snorted.
“She was your aunt.”
“Yeah, and what was she to you, sunshine? Just an old lady who wouldn't get out of your way.”
Silence held sway again and I wondered if Wendy had left, insulted at Philip's implication. When she spoke, her voice was as cool as the stone of the tombs. “You just talk to hear the sound of your own voice, Philip.”
“You cooked the food, sunshine. She died at the dinner table. Don't they always look hard at the chef?”
“She had a heart attack. That's it.” Wendy's voice rose.
“Yeah, she had a heart attack and Uncle Jake's heart medication is missing.”
Obviously I wasn't the only one pondering that fact. Wendy rushed into the momentary hush. “For God's sake. Jake used it all up. You know how he snivels for his pills.” The mosquito cocktailing on my blood was joined by an after-work gang of his fellow bugs. I bit my lip and kept myself still. If I moved overmuch, or made too much noise, I would be detected-by two people calmly discussing the possibility of murder. I allowed myself one slow, open-mouthed breath. The smell of the island-the salt of the air, the mixed perfumes of wildflowers, the hint of pollen, the subtle rank of my own sweat-filled my nose. I willed myself not to sneeze.
“You ain't exactly been weeping and wailing since Lolly died,” Philip said.
“And I suppose you wanted to come out here to dig her grave with your own grieving hands?” Wendy paused and I watched an ant wobble curiously toward my face. I tried not to imagine a diamondback slithering through the grasses and encountering my body like a big speed bump that would have to be surmounted.
Philip didn't answer Wendy, and she continued: “Play nice, Philip. Do you want me to help you or not?”
“Oh, sunshine, it's definitely in your best interest to help me out. Hate to see an eclipse happen to my sunshine, you know that's bad luck.”
I waited for another one of Wendy's characteristic pauses to greet this statement, but she wasted no time: “Don't even think of threatening me, Philip. You don't have the money to write that check-so to speak.” She laughed, a long, brittle giggle. I had never heard her laugh before and her coldness chilled my skin, even in the humid heat. “I've got to go fix lunch for the family. I'll let you know when I've gotten the money. Until then, leave me alone and let me do my job.”
“Wendy-do it well. You'll be amply rewarded.” Philip sounded as though the words tasted bad in his mouth.
“You needn't worry. But I don't want you talking to me again unless it's to ask what's for dinner. I'm sure that won't arouse anyone's suspicions.”
“Oh. And is anyone suspicious?” His voice held a nasty tone.
Another Wendy lull held, then I heard: “I found Jordan snooping in Lolly's closet this morning. Him I find suspicious generally.”
“What the hell was he doing there?”
“Being a sneak. I don't like the way he's ingratiating himself with Mutt.”
“Goddamn luck, Jordan would resemble the old coot. And I caught the bastard buttering up Mutt last night in the library. Uncle dear's taken a liking to him. Jordan's nothing but a smug little shit. I can't have him interfering, sunshine.”
“Well, nothing you can do about him.”
“The hell I can't,” Philip rumbled. Four words to halt your breathing, trust me.
I waited until I was sure they'd left. No way I was venturing back down the path they'd come. I wasn't risking that they'd stop to confer or plot or argue-and I'd stumble up behind them, a falsely amiable mask set on my face. Burrs in my hair? Out doing headstands in the meadow. Grass stains up and down my entire body? Slid into home during the softball tournament being held on the other side of the island. I am not a skilled liar-usually-and I didn't want to manufacture a story.
Instead of returning the way that I came, I decided to support the fiction that I'd been exploring the whole island. So I continued my trek across Sangre, to the side closest to the mainland. Here the ground seemed a bit damper, with thickets of honey mesquites, bright freckles of lavender Texas vervain, fuzzy violet coast mistfiowers, and the yellowish-green spotted horsemint speckling the land. I held my arm away from my body-the scrape was messy and I didn't want to get blood on my clothes. I found a rough trail, probably worn by Rufus or Tom on their island perambulations, and headed back for the house.
I stumbled along the trail, found one shady spot to sit, and eased to the ground. I figured I couldn't beat Philip and Wendy back to the house, so I might as well saunter in late. I wouldn't want them to wonder if I was lurking near their private confab.
I forced myself toward calm. I closed my eyes. Wendy was chiseling money out of Uncle Mutt for Philip. I assumed she'd nab a percentage for her services. So the affectionate scene I'd witnessed between Wendy and Mutt in the kitchen was part of her ruse to wile away the cash from my uncle.
Poor Uncle Mutt. He'd been thoroughly duped. The look on his face as he'd cradled Wendy in his arms had been one of unmitigated bliss, reflection on a lifetime of remembered joys. He'd held Wendy as tenderly as if he were still a young man. And he didn't have much time left for the physical pleasures-
I blinked. Uncle Mutt was dying. If Philip needed money, why didn't he just ask? And why, if unwilling to ask, didn't he wait for the few months Uncle Mutt had left?
Either Philip suspected he wasn't likely to benefit from Uncle Mutt's will, or there was another time pressure on him for cash. Uncle Mutt had referred repeatedly to Philip's business ineptitude. I supposed that once again Philip had bottomed out and Uncle Mutt refused to line the coffers. I decided it was time, if possible, to learn more about Philip's business ventures. He was from Corpus Christi; I should start my inquiries there.