I was still holding the phone, staring at it blankly, when a presence at the back door made me look up, startled. “Kevin!”
“Cam?” His green eyes were shining with hope.
I unfroze. “I started making sandwiches and then I got a call, I need to run next door real quick. Can you finish?”
His eyes really started to shine, then. “That’s why I came up here. I made some special chutneys for just this purpose. And I brought some rustic breads from that new bakery on Capitol Hill. Just leave it all there, I’m on it.”
There was a flash, then, when I remembered that Kevin wasn’t completely insufferable. He was devoted and passionate about food because he loved it. And he’d been devoted and passionate about other things, too.
Time to blush. Could he tell what I was thinking?
I left before he returned with his loaves and chutneys. The last thing I wanted to feel was confusion about Kevin. He’d had his chance. I’d told him the truth about my chameleoning, and he’d freaked out. He’d called me disturbed and delusional. That was the only chance he would ever have to break my heart. I told myself that yet again as I navigated the muddy path between the estates.
A few minutes later, I stood in Lisa’s living room, holding the now-traditional glass of ridiculously exquisite wine. The room itself had also been restored to perfection, all beautiful wood and expensive objets d’art, the windows looking out on Massacre Bay, the floors gleaming. “I’m sorry to bother you, Cam. You must be overwhelmed with all this hospitality.”
My alarm lessened as I laughed out loud. “You have no idea how . . . stretched I feel. Except, maybe you do. My family isn’t a troupe of actors, but sometimes it feels that dramatic.”
It was her turn to laugh. Lisa’s laugh was like snow in the Pacific Northwest; rare and beautiful, so it felt special.
“Well, I’m afraid I’ve asked you here for something that might stretch you a little further. It has to do with the burglary.”
My ears pricked up like James’s. “So it was a burglary?”
“Yes. After you left, Kip emptied that pillowcase. And it was a strange lot of goods, actually. I wasn’t surprised by the drugs. Some ancient painkillers from dental surgery, and I had a bout of insomnia last year, so there was Xanax. He found the spare cash I have on hand here for emergencies—I hide it very well, so that surprised me. It was like he knew where it was, to be honest.”
“Hm.” I didn’t like the sound of that.
Lisa continued. “That was, well, pretty much all he had in there, aside from my laptop. Kip let me keep that and the cash, but he took the rest of it in as evidence, which I find absurd. Is he planning to charge a dead man with breaking and entering?”
She had a point. “Is that all Ephraim took?” I caught myself. “Tried to take?”
“Hm. Well, and bathroom things, like soap and deodorant, first aid supplies. He didn’t take my iPod. I wonder if he didn’t know what it was. The people who live on their boats, they tend to be hermits, somewhat out of touch. A little clannish. But this is the part of it that I hate talking about. He had some of my undergarments in there.”
“Oh my gosh! He stole your underwear?” I couldn’t help myself, I snorted with horrified laughter.
“Isn’t that grotesque?” Lisa was laughing, too. It was such a relief, laughing. We settled down, and Lisa’s face knitted in concern. “It’s just—well, I hardly know how to say this. I discovered today that something else is missing. Something of vital importance.”
And the warmth went out of me, replaced with worry. “What is it?”
Lisa gave a deep sigh that somehow maintained its delicacy. “It’s hard to explain. I guess because . . . well . . . Cam. I hope you won’t think less of me for what I’m about to tell you. Very few people know this. I’m trusting you.”
I felt myself warming again. Whatever fears I’d had about becoming friends with someone of Lisa’s, well, her stature, she had faith in me. “You can trust me.”
“I think I can.” She took a sip of her wine, then set it aside and looked searchingly into my eyes. “Have you ever been divorced?”
“No, I’m too . . .” I’d been about to say I was too young, but at twenty-seven, I really wasn’t. “I’m not ready for marriage. I’m still working out some basic things about myself. So, no. I haven’t.”
“I don’t recommend it. It doesn’t bring out the best in people.” She breathed in through her nose, let it out, shook her head. “I was married to the man of my dreams for years. I was so proud of my marriage.” She shook her head again. “It came to my attention that he had betrayed me horribly. Repeatedly. I had no idea, of course, but when the truth came out, it became clear that my entire marriage was a sham, just something he’d let me believe in while he lived a secret life. And the ridiculous part is, he didn’t want a divorce. He was perfectly satisfied. He thought the answer was for me to . . . accept who he was. He said this was my fault, for not understanding him. He blamed me. I believe he is a sociopath.”
I shuddered with hatred for this man I had never met.
“I offered him a generous settlement just to get things over with, but he wanted more. He had his own assets, his own company, he needed nothing from me to live a very comfortable life. He was doing it, I believe, in order to punish me for ending things. He drove me to despair. I think . . .” She stared out the window. “I actually know that he wanted me to kill myself. He would have had everything, then.”
Just the thought of this made my blood boil. Who could have done this to Lisa? Who would hurt her? I looked at her sitting here, her fine bone structure, her graceful hands, sitting in her perfectly elegant home clothed in something simple and unassuming, even though she had all the money in the world. She was so kind and gracious. I’d never met her ex, but I hated him.
“I didn’t, obviously. The divorce dragged on. He decided that he wanted half of my business, so I sold it. It became necessary to make certain assets unavailable in order to protect the monetary proceeds from my life’s work. He actually hired a team of forensic accountants. They were extremely expensive, and cost him more than they were able to uncover. My team was better.” Her eyes gleamed with the ghost of a smile. “It was my only revenge for what he put me through.”
“If I were you I’d have . . .” I’d have what? Killed him? “I don’t think it was enough.”
She lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “He cared an awful lot about money and prestige. The divorce cost him both. It was the best I could do, as far as revenge or payback or whatever you want to call it. Which brings us to what’s missing. Most of these records are too sensitive to trust to computers alone. These files are deeply encrypted, but it’s tricky. There is a binder that holds a key amount of recovery data to make sure I can always access my assets. I keep the binder in a safe that’s anchored to this house’s foundation. Three people have the combination to that safe, which involves fingerprint verification. That binder is missing, Cam. And I think it’s on Ephraim’s boat.”
I couldn’t prevent the gasp from escaping me. Lisa’s eyes focused on me, sharply. “You know something,” she said.
“I . . . saw someone. On his boat. Last night.”
“Someone else is looking for my binder?” Lisa leaned forward and poured more wine in my glass. “Tell me everything.”
I did. And she didn’t even ask me why I hadn’t told her sooner. She just blithely assumed I’d sneak onto the boat and look around, find the binder, return it to her.
Well, given everything she’d told me, how could I not?
We agreed that I should do it at night. The boat wasn’t going anywhere, at least not today; the cover of darkness would make everything easier. Besides, I had to get back to my own house and deal with all this company. Surely Kevin had had ample time to make even the most artisanal of sandwiches by now. The wine had staved off my hunger a bit, but now that I thought about those sandwiches . . .
“I’ll sneak out tonight and do it,” I assured Lisa.
She set down her empty wine glass, rose to her feet, and pulled me into a gentle hug. “Oh, Cam. I will be forever in your debt.”
And now I felt warmest of all, deep inside.
<<>>
My guesthouse was crammed. Everyone who had been on the beach—even the actors—had crowded into the kitchen to grab one or two or six of Kevin’s tiny, overstuffed sandwiches. And apparently Jen had taken it upon herself to just come over, since I hadn’t called her back.
Kevin had also managed to whip up a batch of turkey-skin cracklins, a platter of zucchini-feta fritters, and an olive oil coleslaw with shishito peppers and fig balsamic vinegar. Where did he even get half these things, I wondered, as I crunched into a cracklin. That Intruder must have plenty of kitchen storage space.
“I understand you’re broken up,” Jen said to me around a mouthful of fritter. We had maneuvered ourselves out of the kitchen and into the front room, where she’d stoked up the fire. But it was really no less crowded out here, as everyone filled up a plate and followed us. “What I don’t understand is how you’re not five hundred pounds. Does he cook like this all the time?”
I nodded and swallowed, watching him across the room. He stood by the fire talking to my mom. She must have complimented the slaw, because he was carefully listing all the ingredients to her, and the proportions, and the timing. Completely in his element, completely sincere. Kevin wasn’t really such a horrible man, after all. “Pretty much.”
Jen shook her head. “I mean, it’s great, but wow, single-minded much? He was talking about saffron earlier. About going to four different stores all across the greater Seattle area looking for this specific one—Manga, or something, I don’t know—the only good kind, you’re totally wasting your time on anything else, might as well be eating lawn clippings . . .” She rolled her eyes and grinned.
“Mongra,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “It’s Mongra saffron, or Lacha, they’re the best . . .” I could feel my cheeks heating. Was I seriously defending my food-obsessed ex-boyfriend? Could I actually tell the difference between Mongra and Aquilla saffrons?
Well, if I was being entirely honest with myself, yes, I could.
Jen was still watching me, waiting for the punch line. Waiting for me to laugh with her at this absurdity. I shrugged. “It’s his thing, I guess. He’s like a super-taster—well, not literally, but he’s more like a super-discerner. He can take a bite of something and figure out all the flavors. And then decide what might make it even better.”
She looked at me a moment longer, then took a bite of slaw. “I guess it’s good he’s in the business he’s in, then.”
“Yep.”
“Are the two of you really through?”
I looked straight in her eyes. “We are one hundred percent through.”
Jen lifted one eyebrow and took another bite. Well, she might think Kevin was ridiculous, but it didn’t stop her from gobbling down his food. Didn’t stop any of us. We finished our lunches in silence, watching everyone else eat and gab. What was the awkward silence about? I hoped I hadn’t offended my new friend by defending Kevin.
He wasn’t completely ridiculous. And the sandwiches were wonderful. “Jen? Something weird happened last night.”
“Weird?” She perked right up. “Tell.”
I told her as quietly as I could about looking for James the night before, and seeing someone on Ephraim Snooks’s boat. She was, of course, fascinated.
“I wish I’d been with you,” she whispered, her eyes dancing with the prospect of solving a mystery. I breathed a tiny sigh of relief as she whispered, “I know every person on this island. I could have told you who she was.”
“What if she wasn’t from here?”
“No one would set foot on that boat without a reason. It looks like it’s on the verge of being swamped.” She had a point. So who was it? And what was the mysterious intruder looking for?
“What’s all the whispering about?” Cliff had wandered into the living room, and when we wouldn’t tell him, he joined the conversation in front of the fire between Kevin and Mom. Cliff had always liked Kevin, so it shouldn’t surprise me that they still connected. I’d heard them talking earlier in the day about Thai street cart food, and the restaurateur in Portland who made a name for himself by importing it to America. At decidedly non-street-cart prices, of course.
Even so, if my brother came all the way here from Thailand and spent all his time talking to my ex, that was going to seriously piss me off. I set my empty plate on the side table and turned to Jen just as Kevin raised his voice and said, “Oh, Cam, I want you to hear this too.”
She shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What now? Locally sourced earthworms for your garden, so your tomatoes will be ever so much more authentic?”
“Shut up,” I whispered, mock-punching her in the arm as I got up and joined the group by the fire. Jen followed right behind me.
“I actually wasn’t a hundred percent honest with you about the RV,” he said, looking into my eyes.
“What?”
How did he manage to look both proud and contrite at the same time? “I didn’t just rent it . . . and it wasn’t the only thing available. I, well, I’m kind of renting-to-own.”
“What?” I said again, taking a small step back. Colin, chatting with my dad and JoJo by the front door, glanced up at my tone. From the kitchen I heard another shriek of actor-laughter. “Where are you going to park that thing in Seattle?”
Kevin looked even prouder, and a bit less contrite. “Well that’s just it. The beauty of it. I’ve given up the apartment. I’m going to totally gut and renovate the Intruder’s kitchen and, well, take this show on the road.” He gestured to the roomful of people enthusiastically gobbling down his food. People who should not be the least bit hungry. Myself included.
“On the road?” I echoed, confused. “What show?”
Now he smiled broadly. “A traveling restaurant, of course! The Rolling Gourmet, or Kev’s Kitchen, or—well, here’s where I need help, I don’t know what to call it. You’re so good with words. You were always talking about writing that screenplay—”
“I am writing it,” I interrupted. “Only it’s a stage play now, and Lisa Cannon wants to make it part of her summer season.” And you’d know all that if you were still in my life, I thought. Or were even paying attention earlier, to anything besides food.
“Perfect! You can write on the road as we travel between cities—”
“Wait, what?”
Now Colin stepped away from his conversation and joined ours, coming to stand protectively close to me. Which again made me both pleased and pissed. I took a half-step away from him, which of course only brought me closer to Kevin.
“And don’t worry about the money! I’ve got it all covered. Mom and Dad are investing, so that’s part of it.” His grin was ear to ear; I had never seen him so happy. Not even . . . in our earliest days. And of course his parents would invest. Two college professors who lived on the lake in the Madrona neighborhood. They had plenty of money to bankroll their only son in a vanity project like this. “I need your help, though, Cam. To make it all happen.”
“I have a job.” I waved around the room. “Here: this is my job. I’m the caretaker for two houses and . . . acres of land. I don’t need to worry about money.” Well, not much, I thought, remembering the island’s prices.
Kevin blustered on, obviously not even listening to me. The whole room was watching him, rapt. “I got funding from the Grub Network to film a pilot. We’ll travel the country on reality TV! You can write the scripts.”
I shrunk back, leaning fully into Colin now and not caring. “You are . . . KIDDING me,” I whispered.
“Reality TV doesn’t have scripts,” JoJo put in from across the room, not even trying to hold back his smirk.
“I need you, Cam. When you left, I . . . I got kind of lost. I realized how much a part of my life you’ve become. We’re a team. Please come back, please come with me. It’ll be great—a huge adventure, so much better than hiding out on a stupid little island at the edge of nowhere.” Suddenly, as if this moment couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, Kevin dropped to his knees in front of me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little white box. “Cam, I miss you. I need you. I want you to marry me.”
I was seriously going to faint from embarrassment.
I felt Colin’s gentle hands on my upper arms. “Didn’t hear ‘love’ anywhere in that little speech,” he grumbled.
“Right.” I took a deep breath and stared down at Kevin, who was poised to open that little box, and I would die if he opened that little box. “Get up. Don’t do this here, now.” It was a good thing I was angry enough, because I was also so mortified, I could feel my arms begin to tingle. No no no, I told myself. Where was my beer?
Kevin withdrew the box, but stayed on his knees. He reached up and grabbed one of my hands. “No, Cam, it has to be now, it has to be here. In front of everyone who cares about you.” He glanced around the room; my parents, my brother, my friends were all just staring back at him, as dumbfounded as I was. “We were great together, weren’t we?” he asked them. “Cliff, you tell her.”
My brother opened his mouth and shut it again, slowly shaking his head. “Dude, I like you, but, seriously. This is life. Not reality TV.”
Colin’s hands on my arms tightened a bit, thankfully avoiding the injury. “Kevin? Maybe give this all a rest right now. Give the lady some space.”
Space. Oh yes, that would be a really good thing. “Yes,” I breathed out. “I need to . . .” I pulled out of Colin’s arms and stepped past Kevin, intending to head for my bedroom. A few minutes snuggling my cat: that’s what I needed.
“Cam!” Kevin cried out, struggling to his feet and grabbing my arm, right over the bandage.
“Ouch!”
Colin, my dad, and my brother all moved to grab Kevin, but it was Jen who actually made contact, slugging him in his skinny shoulder. “Let her go! What’s the matter with you!?”
Kevin dropped my arm and howled, though she couldn’t possibly have hurt him. Probably he was just surprised that a girl would actually hit him. I stood, now frozen as usual, trying to bully my own body into moving . . . and staying visible till I could escape. I could see the doorway to the hall, my bedroom door just beyond it . . . so close, and a thousand miles away.
No one else was frozen, of course. Colin stepped right up into Kevin’s face, all angry, aggressive male. (Which only made it worse for me.) “I think it’s time for you to leave, friend,” he said.
Kevin gave me a panicked look. “Cam! He’s wrong, I do love you! You know I do!”
I could not move, I could not speak. My arms tingled. I think I was still visible . . . god I hoped so. I could only stare back at them all.
“Out,” Colin demanded, reaching for Kevin. My ex-boyfriend scrabbled back, then turned for the front door.
“Fine!” he said, his voice high and breaking a little. “I’ll go—I’ll just—go—” Then he fled out the door. A half-minute later, the sound of the Intruder’s massive engine rumbling to life broke the freeze my chameleoning held on me, and I too fled, for the safety and privacy of my bedroom.
“James,” I whispered, looking around for him. I’d thought for sure he’d be hiding in here too, away from all the company. Social creature that he might be, this crowd was surely too much for him, even before the yelling started. But he was nowhere. No matter: my bed was here, and that was all I needed. I dove onto it and burrowed under the covers, shivering with relief. I could still hear everyone talking out in the living room, and even the actors in the kitchen had finally figured out that something was going on, and gone to investigate.
Let them, let them all talk and wonder and worry, without me. I let the voices tumble unheeded out there. I didn’t have to deal with it, not right now.
“Well, I know what we need,” I heard Jen’s voice over the rest of them, followed by the sound of a cork leaving a wine bottle. Ever the bartender.
I buried my head deeper under the covers.
<<>>
I must have slept, because suddenly it was dark. I stretched and pushed the covers off carefully, so as not to poke any sleeping cats.
But there were none.
“I know you can walk through walls,” I muttered to the absent James as I got up and switched on a lamp. I needed to make sure I was at least marginally presentable.
I frowned into the mirror. My clothes were rumpled, though not awful, and my hair was mussed—not artfully, like Lisa’s; there was just really no way to cut my tangled mop that would stand up to mashing it into a pillow for a few hours.
Grabbing some mousse off my dresser, I worked it through my dry hair, then studied myself again. It would have to do.
I paused at my bedroom door, listening. I heard quieter voices in comfortable conversation: my folks, Jen, and Cliff, it sounded like. Had everyone else left? That would be nice.
“Hey,” Colin said, as soon as I stepped into the living room. He was sitting right next to Kip. Oh well.
“Hey,” I said to them both, as Jen leaned over and picked up a bottle of wine just as the lights all went out.
“Oh no!” Mom cried. “I just turned the oven on to heat up some pie—did we blow a fuse?”
“I’ll go find out,” I heard Dad say.
A sharp beam of light sliced through the room: Kip, of course, with his monster cop flashlight. “I’ll go check with you, Adam,” he said, authoritatively. They marched off to the back of the house together.
“When did Kip get here?”
“I can’t keep track anymore. This place is nuts.”
“Is the power out?”
“Yes. I’m not sure it’s just us,” Jen said from the front window. “Look, I don’t see any lights on at the big house either.”
A frantic knock on our door startled us all; I almost shrieked, and was glad of the dark. Jen hollered, “Who is it?”
“Bonfire time!” came JoJo’s merry voice. “Everyone down to the beach!”
Jen snorted and opened the door. JoJo wasn’t alone; was that Clary with him? Seemed like it. And who else? Whoever they were, even in the pitch black, it was clear that they were roaring drunk, snickering and nudging each other like five-year-olds. Or actors.
“You go on ahead and get started, JoJo; we’ll be right behind you.” Jen’s tone was droll, amused.
“No way! We need help!” He put the back of his hand dramatically against his forehead, a pose rendered even more dramatic by being lit only by our little hearth fire. “We cannot POSSIBLY manage such a monumental undertaking on our own. You, fair and mighty maiden, must assist!” He reached for Jen—was he seriously trying to squeeze her bicep?—but missed as she stepped deftly back.
“Whoah, big boy,” she said, reaching out for the bottle he held, probably to put it somewhere safe.
“Nope! Mine!” He raised the bottle high, sloshing amber-colored liquid around, spilling only a few drops. Then he leered at her. “Though if you’re real nice to me, I might share.”
And then I heard the telltale rumble of Kevin’s big-ass RV working its way down the driveway again. “No, no, no!” I said. “Fine—let’s go make the biggest damn bonfire in the history of bonfires and throw my stupid ex-boyfriend on it!” I stomped over to JoJo. “I’m in. What’s in that bottle?”
The bright beam of the police flashlight heralded Kip and my dad’s return from their investigations. “Nope, fuses all fine,” Kip said. “I think it’s—”
“It’s an island-wide power outage!” JoJo cried. “And rather than curse the darkness, we’re building a magnificent bonfire on the beach! Family tradition! Come one, come all!” He grabbed my arm—the uninjured one, thank goodness—and led the still-giggling Clary and the other woman (gorgeous, Asian, and I couldn’t discern anything further in the dark) on a march across my pitch-black lawn.
“You might want some light—” Kip started.
“Come on then!” I hollered over my shoulder. “Before this fool kills us all!”
<<>>
I was certainly glad that the Brixton “kids” were behind this bonfire idea, because if my family and friends had created a gigantic pile of driftwood on her private stretch of beach, Diana would have fired me on the spot.
The woodpile was in the process of being gathered by a ragged and unruly crowd. Me, my parents, Cliff, Jen, Kip, Colin—and, of course, Kevin. All the campgrounds were closed for the season, and with the power out, even the ferries were scrambling to function. (I tried not to think about how suspiciously quickly he’d shown up here after the power went out; we were at least a twenty-minute drive from the ferry landing, in a normal car.) He swore he’d leave tomorrow, on the same ferry that my folks were leaving on, midday, and would not bring up the ridiculous “reality TV show” idea again.
Or the proposal.
JoJo and Clary and Maxine—the other woman turned out to be Clary’s girlfriend—were less effective at gathering wood, but they were certainly entertaining, since they were all so drunk they could barely stand. Clary and Maxine were both so beautiful and arch, they seemed more like sisters than lovers, even though Maxine was Chinese.
We’d only been gathering wood for a few minutes when Lisa’s troupe had joined us again; six (now they were six, somehow) loudmouthed, dramatic clowns dragging logs here and there, making jokes about hiding bodies, maenads and bacchanals, and the Salem witch trials. They seemed really fun, but I had some trouble remembering who was who. And they still, despite their antics, seemed kind of a closed set. I’d have to get to know them better if they were going to do my play—my play, which I hadn’t touched since all these people descended on my house.
I was missing my solitude like crazy.
I had to look away from the growing pile, because it made me shiver. Even with all the hilarity around me, my mind kept wandering back to my experience of a week before, when I’d found Megan’s body in a driftwood tangle.
Looking away took my eyes to the boat moored at Lisa’s dock. The boat I’d agreed to sneak onto later tonight.
And where was Lisa? Home alone in her dark, plundered house? I peered up the beach, but of course could see nothing through the trees and darkness.
It couldn’t have been much later than five o’clock, but at this time of year, full dark came early. JoJo splashed our pile of driftwood with his bottle and lit it on fire, flames whooshing up, scenting the air with the perfume of expensive brandy.
“I see a problem,” he groused after a minute. “We stacked so much wood that we didn’t leave anywhere to sit.”
“So get some more logs,” said Clary, rolling her eyes. “There’s more washing up over there, go get one of those!”
“Those will be wet and heavy.”
Maxine punched him in the shoulder. “Let’s carry some up here. The fire will dry it out in no time, and you’ll have somewhere to sit, you big sissy.”
“Sissy?” He laughed out loud. “No one’s ever called me a sissy before. Come help me with this log, I’ll show you who’s a sissy.”
They staggered down the beach, Clary trailing after. In their state, I didn’t think they should be near the water at all, but I certainly wasn’t going to argue with them. I was perfectly happy to stand between my parents, feeling safe and enjoying the flames, how they danced, shooting sparks up into the stars. Skies were so dark here, and I loved it. I knew these same stars were in Seattle’s night skies, but I had never seen them. They were hiding in all the light pollution.
I took some covert looks at the people standing around the fire.
Kevin looked, I had to admit, somewhat adorable. He was holding forth on the virtues of homemade marshmallows to Jen. She looked interested, but she was probably more amused than anything else. Because, really? Homemade marshmallows? My brother was on her other side, joining in now and then. Kip stood just a bit apart from everyone else, holding his hands out to the flames to warm them. He hadn’t had a sip of alcohol, and his civilian duds were just as pressed and tidy as his uniform, but I thought by his pleasant smile that he might be enjoying himself. He was so buttoned-up that it was hard to tell, but I decided to believe that he was.
And then, Colin. Scruffy and strong and sweet. Colin just kept showing up.
“Kip?” It was JoJo, suddenly sober, his arms around a shivering Clary. “Kip. We’ve found something.” He thrust his sister at me. “Can you take care of Clary?”
She threw off his arm, shivering visibly. “I’m fine. No one needs to take care of me.”
“Where’s Maxine?”
“She’s back down the beach. She’s waiting with the . . . with the body.”