Weekend Warriors (Sisterhood #1)(35)
“That’s an absolutely brilliant idea, Charles. Do you think I should arrange some surveillance for Mr. Emery?”
Charles threw back his head and laughed, a deep belly laugh that made Myra smile. “I already took care of that. It never ceases to amaze me, Myra. You think like I do. Just when I think I one-upped you, you come up with the same idea a short while later. The reports will be coming in over the computer. Nikki is aware of it.”
“Why did Nikki go back to town this evening? Did she say anything to you, Charles?”
“Nothing, other than there were some loose ends at the office. I think she wanted to check for bugs. She said she’s going to be staying at the farm for a while. I know that makes you happy.”
“Oh, it does. I understood why she had to move back to town. The commute is long and often she has to be in court very early. Then there was Jack. I hate to see her paying that sky-high rent, but she said it’s necessary. I wonder if Jack knows or is aware of Nikki’s financial situation.”
“When people are in love, they tend to share such things, Myra. I think it’s safe to assume he’s well aware of Nikki’s holdings. Just like I’m aware of his. The man’s got dick, Myra. He’s maxed out on his credit cards and has a hard time making his lease payments on his Lexus. Nikki told me a while back that he wanted to move in so they could share the rent. She said no.”
“Thank God,” Myra sighed. She covered her mouth in a delicate yawn. She hoped Charles wouldn’t insist on watching one of his favorite western movies.
Charles looked at his watch. “I think we should head off to bed, Myra. I have an early morning flight. I’m issuing an invitation here, Myra.”
“And I’m accepting it,” Myra twinkled.
Isabelle Flanders adjusted her floppy-brimmed straw hat and dark glasses as she stepped from the taxi. She paid and tipped the driver. She waited another moment until a bellboy loaded her baggage onto a cart to take indoors.
A headache hammered away at the base of her skull and before long she was going to have a full-blown migraine. If not a migraine, then one of the hateful visions that had plagued her since the car accident. She didn’t know which she hated more.
At the registration desk she handed the desk clerk Kathryn Lucas’s Visa card. She scrawled Kathryn’s name across the bottom of the reservation form and waited for her key. She mumbled a muffled “thank you” when the desk clerk slid the key along the marble counter.
She turned to follow the young man and her luggage to her private cottage. She was grateful that the walk was a short one. Later, after the migraine or the vision, she would check out her surroundings. For now she needed water and some aspirin. She tipped the young man and waited for him to leave.
“This is a swinging place, miss. We have five tennis courts, every water sport you can think of, and our nightly entertainment is the best on the island. The Seahorse Pub is where everyone meets in the evening unless they want to go to town. We have a mini-bus if you don’t want to walk up and down the hills. The health club is new. The guests like to dance under the stars on the beach terrace. If you need anything, just call the front desk. Enjoy your stay, Miss Lucas.”
“Yes, thank you,” Isabelle said, handing him a twenty dollar bill. For sure he would remember Kathryn Lucas as a good tipper.
The moment the door closed behind the young man, Isabelle ripped off the sunglasses and straw hat. She rummaged in her purse for her aspirin bottle and gulped down four of them with a swig of water from the mini-bar. She walked out onto the lanai and sat down under the shade of an umbrella. She closed her eyes and waited. Either the headache would come on with force or the vision would appear behind her closed lids.
Why couldn’t she be normal like everyone else? Because Rosemary Wexler ruined your life, that’s why. She could hardly wait till it was her turn so she could rip Rosemary’s face to shreds.
It came then in the form of jagged streaks of bright light and then the grainy, gray forms she didn’t recognize that were people. This time she saw a car and something that looked like a black marble. The gray form was sticking the marble under the bumper of a BMW. And then it was over. She rubbed at the corners of her eyes with the knuckle of her index finger. For some reason her eyes always teared after a vision.
The first time it happened, she’d gone to a doctor thinking she’d torn her retina or perhaps something worse. The eye doctor had sent her to have her arteries tested, saying possibly a piece of plaque might have broken off. The test had shown nothing wrong, at which point the doctor told her not to worry, her eyes were fine. When she’d gone back a second, a third and then a fourth time, the doctor had lost patience with her and referred her to another doctor who basically said the same thing. There was nothing wrong with her eyes.
The day she’d ruled out all medical reasons, she’d gone to the library and researched all things paranormal. She saw things but she never knew what they meant. She never recognized the places or the gray, grainy people that appeared before her. Until today. She’d seen the BMW clearly. What did it mean?
With nothing on her hands but time, Isabelle headed for the shower. It was such a relief to take off the heavy, red wig.
An hour later, dressed in shorts, T-shirt and sandals, her own hair piled high on her head, the straw hat on top, Isabelle fixed herself a stiff drink and carried it out to the lanai.