Carolina Isle (Edenton 2)
“More than you know. Your cousin isn’t the only one who can snoop. I opened a few cabinets. Looks like she knew we were coming far enough in advance that she hid some items of jade, porcelain, and the odd Ming vase.”
“They’re making a fortune here, aren’t they?”
“Someone is, and I agree that Vancurren is in on it, although I can’t figure out how much. One thing for sure is that they were waiting for us. They knew we were coming.”
Sara’s head came up. “The ferry.”
“Right,” R.J. said, smiling. “I didn’t tell anyone, but I looked for a schedule, but there wasn’t one. When we got to the water on the other side, there was no ferry in sight, but after we had lunch—”
“And we’d told the waitress we were going to King’s Isle for the day—”
“The ferry magically appeared.”
“For your Jaguar. With that car, you might as well have put a sign on your head: I am rich.” Sara sat down on the end of the tub. The curtain hid the body from her. “And we were told that the ferry wouldn’t return until after the trial. Which could now be for murder,” she added.
“I don’t think that was part of it. The we
bsites I read reported more than one tourist complaint, but nothing could be done because it was their word against the King’s Isle police and the judge.”
“And then there’s the story about the couple who had to move to get away from Larry Lassiter. Do you think that was true?”
“I don’t know, but when I get out of here, I’ll find out.”
Sara looked at her watch—the one she now knew cost ten grand. It was just after midnight. “How do we get out of this?”
“I have no idea. You’re the clever one, so what do you think?”
“My first thought is to get rid of the body, but how? We can’t carry it outside or we’ll be seen. I think you’re right when you said people are out there watching us.”
“They’re probably expecting us to walk down those creaky stairs carrying a rolled-up carpet.”
“Three, six, eight,” Sara said.
“What?”
“Those are the numbers of the stairs that creak: three, six, eight.”
“If I didn’t think you’d slap me, I’d kiss you for that.”
“You told David I was a bad secretary. You said—”
“Come on,” R.J. said, “let’s see if the others have calmed down now.” He got up and held the door open for her.
Ariel and David were sitting close together on one of the sofas. David was holding her hand.
“I don’t know how you can stand to be in there with that … that body,” Ariel said.
“We’re trying to figure out what to do,” Sara answered.
“Any luck?” David asked.
“Only that we have to get rid of the body, tell no one, and that Sara here”—he patted her thigh—“knows which steps creak. I think we can get the body down the stairs without Phyllis hearing,” R.J. said.
“She wouldn’t hear us anyway,” Ariel said. “She’s drunk.”
“How do you know that?”
“When I tried the telephone, I opened the cabinet by her bed. It was full of bottles of vodka. And I smelled it on her breath when we came back.”