Saving Grace (What Doesn’t Kill You, #1): A Katie Romantic Mystery

Chapter Forty-four

  I’d never tailed a car before. I’d read a lot of Sue Grafton novels when I was in college, though. “What would Kinsey Millhone do?” I asked myself, and almost laughed, but not quite.

  The Continental swung around and passed behind us, heading out of the parking lot. I backed out and pulled onto Tamarind Road behind them, away from Town.

  “They getting away,” Ava cried.

  “There’s no one else on the road. I have to stay pretty far back or they’ll see us,” I said. I established a position about two hundred yards behind them.

  “OK,” Ava said, but she gripped the hand rest and leaned forward. Oso studied her, then leaned forward, too.

  The salt ponds gave way to treeless green fields. I knew from Rashidi’s lecture aboard the shuttle to his rainforest tour that these were salt marshes, and the greenery obscuring the watery ground was more mangrove, yucca, and sea grape, mixed in with Guinea grass. One mile later, the Continental turned left into a gated community. It stopped at a white wooden guard booth, then the gate’s arm rose, and the sedan continued on. I pulled up to the guard booth.

  Ava leaned across Oso and me and smiled. “Good day, Bob, how you doing?”

  The guard was clad in an official-looking white button-front short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts. He lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw Ava. “Good day, Miss Ava. I doing well. And how your family?”

  “Mom and Dad doing great, thank you for asking. I here today to see Elizabeth Anderson.”

  “She expecting you?” he asked, picking up his clipboard and a pen.

  “Yes. I picking up a costume to be fitted for the community theater musical next month. We doing Jesus Christ Superstar.”

  While she worked Bob, I kept my eyes on the Continental, which had turned up a hill to the left.

  “You always a star, Ava. I be sure to come see you in it.” He scribbled on his paper, then hit a button, and the gate opened.

  “Thanks, Bob. Goodbye, now!” She waved cheerily.

  The Continental was moving into rarefied air now. This hill was one of the most exclusive pieces of property on St. Marcos. There were only three houses at the top, and one of them hogged a section twice as big as the other two. The Continental pulled through the massive iron gate of the compound, a white structure with a giant B in the center. Coconut palms lined the driveway leading up to an oversized traditional West Indian house. Two-story “welcoming arms” bannisters bordered the front staircase, the arms curving down and outward to meet the ground. Arches set into the exterior walls created a breezeway that encircled the entire main house. The stucco was a subdued peach with white accents around the doors and windows, also a nod to tradition.

  “Ho, ho, ho,” Ava chortled. “If she ain’t going to visit the high and mighty Mr. Gregory Bonds himself.”

  I’d heard the name. “Who’s he?” I asked.

  “St. Marcos’ wealthiest citizen, although not a bahn yah native. He from New York, I think. He made his money in offshore gambling and already a gazillionaire by the time he moved on-island. He own the casino we sang at when you visited, the phone company, and he trying to buy the power company away from the government, too.”

  “Your future husband,” I said. “His limo nearly hit me in Town, once.”

  “That’s him.”

  I took more pictures and wished I had a better camera than my iPhone. They wouldn’t be great, but we’d at least be able to see the car and its license plate number, the house, and, now that she was getting out of the car, Lisa Nesbitt. I managed a few more snaps of her as she walked up to the house and was escorted in.

  “That’s not him,” Ava said.

  “What?”

  “The guy that let her in a black local. Gregory White. A big beefy white guy with an afro of blond hair, who wear fuddy duddy glasses. Not a good-looking man. Although if he ask me to the prom, I go, since he my future husband,” she said.

  I kept taking pictures.

  “I’m trying to get a shot of the driver, but I can’t see him through the window tinting. It looks like he’s going to stick around and wait for her. Maybe he’ll get out to visit the loo or something, “ I said.

  “Can we get any closer?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. Besides, I think we’d need to be inside the compound to get any better shots than we’re already getting from here.”

  A rap on the glass by my face startled me. Ava and I both gasped. Oso barked.

  It was a security guard, although he wasn’t dressed the same as the gate guard. This guy was in pressed navy-blue shorts and a navy button-front shirt with a badge on it. Embroidered in white below the badge was “Bonds Enterprises.”

  I rolled down my window and smiled in what I hoped was a fetching manner. “Good day, sir.”

  “You got a reason to be here, ladies?” All business. Maybe my fetching wasn’t. I didn’t go for fetching often. I could have accidentally used my “guilty as hell” smile.

  Since fetching hadn’t worked, I went for clueless tourist. “No, sir. We accidentally turned up this road and then we saw this beautiful house. I stopped to take a few pictures. It’s gorgeous. Someone important must live here. Do you work here?”

  Ava didn’t say anything, so I assumed this was one of the small handful of men on the island she hadn’t dated or who didn’t want to date her. Yet.

  “You need to move along. This road private property. Get going, now.”

  He double-tapped the roof of my truck. I looked at Ava. She shrugged.

  “Yes, sir. Good day.” I didn’t bother rolling my window up, just put the truck in drive and did a U-turn.

  “Crap,” Ava said.

  “We have what we came for. Enough to give the police another suspect.”

  “Not with Eduardo gone,” she cried.

  “Between the fact that they turned up nothing in their search of your place and these pictures, it’s a good start. If they won’t act on it, Duke can. Or he can hire an investigator.”

  And that’s when I remembered that Walker was meeting me out at Annalise. And Rashidi, with Crazy Grove. I needed to hurry.

  “Let’s stop by the Packin’ Male and make some printouts of these pictures. Then we have to meet Rashidi out at Annalise. He’s introducing me to the new contractor. And Walker is bringing me his final report.”

  “Final report? Did he find anything?”

  I tried a chuptz. It was pitiful and Ava rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  I said, “No, although I’m not so sure he tried. I’m not sure of anything on this island anymore, to be truthful.”

  Too late, I realized that probably sounded like I wasn’t sure of Ava, either. Ava, who was accused of killing her lover. Ava, who two days ago had infuriated me with her behavior toward Bart. Ava stared out the window for a moment while I searched for the right apology. It didn’t come.

  She whipped her head back to me and in an overly bright voice said, “The Packin’ Male it be, then.”

  ~~~