Sam motored back over to Baskin and tossed the anchor on the beach beside her stilt house. She walked through the trees to Herm’s camp and found him cleaning a gas generator.
“Morning, pet,” he said through his thick beard. He had so much hair on his face and head he wasn’t much more than a pair of eyes. “Cuppa?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Sam filled the kettle from a water canister, put it on the camp stove and lit the flame. “Uncle Herm, have you heard anything about Enoch renting out one of his houses?”
“Here? No.”
“There’s a boat docked down there.”
“His place?”
“No, the second one along.”
“He’s had people stay before but he always tells me.”
“That’s what I figured. I’ll wander down and take a look.”
“You want me to come?” he asked, hunched over the generator and looking like a bear mauling a salmon. If Harold Hildebrand was a rich guy, it was possible he and Enoch moved in the same circles, and she didn’t want to cause unnecessary alarm. “No, I got it.”
They drank their builders’ tea and nibbled on some digestives that Sam’s mum had mailed over from the UK, even though they could get English biscuits in the Publix in Cape Coral.
Sam cleaned up and then walked along the beach to the south end of the island, where it was only a rise of grassed dunes that separated the houses on the sound side from the beach on the Gulf.
She walked down the far side of the southernmost house—the one that Enoch Brookes used as his Baskin home. At the rear Sam could see across the backyards and docks of all four homes. There were now two boats at the second dock: Hildebrand’s motor yacht and a twenty-foot center console fishing boat.
Sam retraced her steps and made for the second house. She figured she didn’t have to go in as a county deputy of sorts, all official. There was another option.
As she reached the space between the two houses, Sam noticed a woman walking toward her along the line where the dunes met the lawns in front of the houses. There was no sidewalk or road. The sand just bled into the grass and was kept from taking over by regular visits from the gardeners.
Sam stopped outside the second house and watched the woman approach. She was taller than Sam’s five-three, and her light cotton blouse and linen trousers gave her a stylish look. She saw Sam waiting and offered a smile as she approached.
“Good morning,” she said as she reached the house.
“Morning,” said Sam.
“Nice day for a walk,” said the woman, brushing a fallen black hair from her face despite her modern bob cut, and offering her hand. “I’m Laura Smythe.”
“Sam. Waters.” Sam shook Laura’s hand. She had pianist’s fingers, slender and oddly strong.
“You’re English,” said Sam.
“Sort of. I grew up in Germany, actually. But my father was English.”
“Your accent’s BBC World Service.”
“I went to secondary in London. My dad wanted me to speak with a proper English accent.”
Sam had never heard such a perfect English accent, except maybe on the news or during the Queen’s Christmas message. This woman could have been aristocracy. With her tanned face, large eyes and sharp nose she might have been from Munich or Manchester, Stockholm or Stevenage, Bratislava or Basingstoke. Sam suddenly felt self-conscious of her unkempt hair and Isle of Wight caulkhead accent.
“Are you staying on the island?” asked Laura.
“No, I live here, actually.”
“How marvelous. It’s paradise.”
“That it is. And what about you?”
“I obviously don’t live here. I’m setting up the house for my boss to come and stay.”
“Here? I know the owner. He doesn’t usually rent it out.”
“No, I expect not. I don’t think my boss is even paying for it. More like a favor, I suppose, from Mr. Brookes.”
“You know Enoch?”
“Not personally. But my boss does.”
“Harold Hildebrand?”
Laura nodded. “You know quite a lot, Sam.”
“I’m the observant type. I noticed the boat.”
“Ah, right. Well, would you like to come inside?”
“Sure, why not.”
Laura led Sam inside the house. She had been inside Enoch’s house only once, but the layout was the same. It was fully furnished with stuff Sam had seen in fancy catalogs. Laura didn’t offer Sam a seat in one of the plush sofas. Instead they took stools at the marble kitchen counter.
“I’d offer you tea but Mr. Hildebrand doesn’t drink it. Would you like some water?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.” Sam noticed some boxes with wires hanging from them at the end of the counter.
“Security cameras,” said Laura. “Mr. Hildebrand is quite particular about security, so when I come ahead of him I have them installed if they are not already in place. The technician is working on them now.”
Sam glanced around but saw no cameras. Clearly rich people liked having security but didn’t like the feeling of being watched.
“Is that the other boat out there?” asked Sam.
“You are observant.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“What is it you do?”
“I’m with the sheriff’s department, part-time. I kind of look after things on Baskin. It’s not always easy to get law enforcement out here.”
“I see. Well you’re right, that’s the technician’s boat. And it’s also not easy getting tradesmen out here.”
“Tell me about it. So what is it you do for Mr. Hildebrand?”
“I’m one of his personal assistants.”
Personal assistant. She wouldn’t mention that to Dusty. She’d never hear the end of it.
“One of?”
“Yes, he’s a very important man, so he has a team. Part of my job is to arrive early to anywhere that he plans to go so we can ensure all his needs are met.”
“Like the Secret Service do for the President?”
“Something like that, but it’s just me.”
“Can I ask when he’s coming?”
“I can’t say exactly, you understand, but he will be here for the end of the boat show.”
“I heard something about a super yacht?”
“Yes. La Fiamma Azzurra, the blue flame. She will undertake her maiden voyage as the highlight of the end of the show.”
“She’s coming from Italy?”
“That’s right.”
“Wouldn’t that have been her maiden voyage?”
“I’m not much of a boat person, but I believe the maiden voyage refers to a vessel’s first trip in its intended duty. So technically the trip from Italy was a positioning voyage.”
“Ah, got it. So if Mr. Hildebrand is staying here and has his super yacht over at Cape Coral, why is his other boat docked outside?”
“Oh, Mr. Hildebrand won’t be staying here. He prefers to sleep on the Aeolus. But he needed somewhere to dock it, and he will use the house for entertaining.”
“Wow. It’s a real glimpse of how the other half live.”
“I can assure you, Sam, it’s all that and more. My dad was an English teacher, so it’s quite something to me, too. But despite it all, I have to tell you, Mr. Hildebrand is actually a pretty normal man. He enjoys a barbecue and watching American football and spending time with his family, just like anyone.”
“I bet his TV is pretty impressive.”
“In New York, it’s a twenty-seat media room with theater seating,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Anyway, Sam, I must get about my work. Thank you for dropping by.”
“No, thank you, Laura.” Sam slipped off her stool and walked to the door. “Let me give you my number in case you need anything.”
“That’s very kind.”
As Sam recited her number, Laura punched it into her phone.
“I hope you enjoy your stay,” Sam said.
“It’s work, but it’s not exactly digging in a mine.”
Sam waved and walked back across the dunes. As she reached the peak the wind blew in the right direction and her phone got some reception and it bleeped that she had a voicemail.
“Hello, Samantha, it’s Margaret. Just to let you know, I heard from Enoch and yes, he did offer one of the four houses to a business associate, a Mr. Hildebrand. Apparently the house is being prepared by an assistant. Her name is Laura. He apologized for not letting Herm know. If you have any problems, call me any time.”
Sam ended the voicemail and walked back down onto the beach and watched her bars drop to zero. So it was Hildebrand’s boat and he was supposed to be at Enoch’s house. Another piece of Deek’s crazy puzzle was fitting into place. But Sam knew the best conspiracy theories were wound around a spindle of fact. The problem was, so was the truth.