“And what else?” He was almost afraid to ask.
“A Malibu Beach House. I really want that.”
The back of his neck tingled. “Do you have any idea what a house in Malibu costs these days?”
“Ninety-nine ninety-five.”
He laughed hollowly. “Maybe when you were in bloomers, a beach house went for ninety-nine thousand. Now it’s more like nine million... but maybe that wouldn’t be out of the question, my love, if we could share it...”
She frowned. “I don’t like to share my toys.”
“I’m back, you two!”
Anthony looked up from his deck chair at Cora’s daughter, whose smile upended into a frown. “Is everything all right, Mr. Vane? You look... strange. I hope Mother behaved herself.”
“She does like to get her way,” he said pleasantly, standing.
“Yes, she does,” the daughter admitted.
“But she’s certainly charming company,” he said with a smile, nodding at Cora, who was looking off to the right, as if the children splashing in the ship’s pool were particularly fascinating.
“I’m glad you’re getting along so famously,” said the daughter. “Perhaps we’ll see you again, Mr. Vane, when we get back to the ship. Come, Mother, it’s time to go.”
He watched the pair leave, then wandered back to his room, where he sat on the edge of his bed. This Cora was a shrewd one, blackmailing, scheming bitch that she was; there was much to admire in the woman.
What a team they could make. He could love a woman like that; but could he ever trust her?
And could he ever hope to outsmart the likes of her?
In his state room, Anthony basked in self-pity; everyone else was off roaming the bustling, native-filled streets of Nassau, enjoying the beautiful day, eating traditional Bahamian conch fritters and grouper fingers from colorful vendor carts.
The phone rang beside the bed.
“Mr. Vane,” the Brooklyn-tinged voice said, “Jake Lausen again.”
“Any news, Mr. Lausen?”
“Afraid not. Need you to stop by my office at four this afternoon.”
“All right.”
“Listen, you don’t have to hang around till then. If you want get off the ship, go into Nassau, take your mind off things, go ahead.”
“Well, that’s kind of you, Mr. Lausen. I am getting a little stir-crazy. Walking around the town might help calm my nerves; Margaret’s disappearance has me at wit’s end.”
“No problem. Just be back by four.”
As he disembarked onto Woodes Rogers Walk, Anthony tried not to seem too happy as he strolled along the harbor where sponge boats were docked, bobbing in the water. Now and then a Bahamian woman tried to get him to buy a straw hat or shell, but he ignored them. He passed over the fresh conch, too, because he had a place in mind for lunch.
Nowhere in the world had he ever had a finer meal than those he’d enjoyed, over the years, at Greycliff. Once the summer home of Lady and Lord Dunmore, the elegant but unpretentious restaurant catered to the well-off, from royalty to rock stars, from CEOs to drug dealers. All of their food was magnificent, but his favorite was the well-cooked goose.
Crossing Bay Street, crowded by mid-afternoon with its horse-drawn surreys carrying well-heeled tourists, he quickened his step as he thought about the culinary delights which awaited him just a few blocks away, up steep Blue Hill Road. As he passed Rawson’s Square, where tuckered-out travelers sat on quaint wooden benches, he stopped short. Sitting in the shade of a palm tree, with their backs to him, but their identity unmistakable, were Jennifer and Cora.
The daughter seemed somewhat worked up, saying impatiently to her mother, “All right, I’ll go back to the store and buy it, even thought it’s not the right one... But you have to promise me not to move from this bench.”
He couldn’t hear what the mother said, but saw her nod her head, yes. Then Jennifer stood up, and hurried across the plaza.
He approached Cora, whipping off his Ray-Bans dramatically. “Well, hello, my love,” he said, looming over her. “We meet again.”
She ignored him, continuing to mutter to herself.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Not having a good time?”
“No,” she said, scrunching up her face, like a kid talking back to a parent.
This coy act was starting to get to him; she was attractive, but playing cute simply wasn’t cute, at her age.
“What’s the matter, my love?”
“We couldn’t find him.”
“Who?”
“Nibbles.”
“Nibbles?”
“The right horse.”
He couldn’t imagine why she was looking for a horse.
“Well, I’m sure he’s around somewhere.” After all, there were plenty of horses pulling carriages in downtown Nassau. Then he asked, “Where did your lovely daughter go?”
Cora looked at him oddly. “I don’t have a daughter.”
“Oh, I see.” He smiled. “Have a fight, did you?”
She looked away, pouting.
And he made a decision; sudden, but necessary. This woman was too unpredictable, too cunning. Right now he didn’t want a lover or need a partner; and he certainly didn’t require some blackmailing bitch, however clever and attractive, in his life.
“Have you been up the Queen’s Staircase yet?” he asked, working some enthusiasm into his voice. The last thing he wanted to do right now was trudge up some cliff-side stairway. But if it was the last thing Cora did, it would be worth the effort...
“No.”
“It’s just a short distance from here. And at the top of the stairs is a fort with all the armaments; it’s like stepping into the past. Very romantic.”
She considered that. “You mean, like My Very Own Castle?”
“Our very own castle,” he said, and touched her thigh.
“Oh, take me there. Take me there now!”
Just off East Street, steep steps had been carved into a limestone hill leading to Fort Fincastle. Shaped like a paddle-wheel steamer, the small fortress was build to protect the town from any enemy who landed. Heavy cast-iron cannons pointed out to sea, guns that had never been fired.
Cora climbed briskly, with an enthusiasm and energy a young girl might have envied. What a handful she was! What a pity she had to go...
Halfway up the steps Anthony halted. “Let me rest,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow, “catch my breath a second.” He couldn’t believe that the older woman wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Well, okay, but not for long.” She was standing one step ahead of him. “I want to see the castle.”
Two teenagers, most likely brother and sister, squeezed around them on the steps, raced each other to the top, soon disappearing from view.
Then they were alone on the stairs.
He felt a pang of regret; what a beautiful relationship he might have had with such a beautiful, vibrant and oh so cagey a woman...
“Okay, I’m ready,” he said and they continued the climb, with her in the lead and him just behind. As they neared the top, he reached out and gave her arm a quick, vicious tug, side-stepping as she fell backward past him, cascading down the limestone steps, leaving red impressions as she went.
He didn’t stick around to watch her tumble all the way down, but turned, wanting to remove himself from the scene and let someone else discover the body, and bolted to the top.
And bumped into a man beginning to descend.
A baby-faced, mustached man named Jake Lausen.
“Well, Mr. Vane,” Lausen said, “it doesn’t look like you’re having a very relaxing cruise, now, does it?”
Lausen was again perched on the edge of his desk, with Anthony seated before him in the hard, cold folding chair.