“Come on, Cole. One hour, okay? That’s all I’m asking.” The man was exasperating. He’d been fighting her on this issue ever since she’d picked him up in her dinghy.
“Dammit, Riley, this is the closest I’ve been. I feel it. I know this is where my father sent us.” He pointed to the cone shaped island to the south. “Scott’s Head is a tombolo. He wanted us to come right here to this bay. It’s plenty deep enough for a sub out there.”
“I know all that, Cole, but what’s the likelihood a submarine sank right off the beach out there in Soufriere Bay and nobody on shore saw a thing? Besides, what would she have been doing here?”
He threw his hands into the air. “How the hell do I know? Something happened on board that boat when they left Bermuda maybe. I don’t know what. Mutiny? Hell, this is more than five hundred miles away from where she was supposed to be. I don’t know why she was here, but if James Thatcher is telling me she’s here, I believe him.”
Yeah, Riley thought, your dead father is telling you what to do, and now my dead brother is telling me to go visit somebody in the village – and to make sure Cole comes along. “Cole,” she said. “This is one of the hottest dive spots on the island. If there was a three hundred and sixty foot submarine out there with a hold full of gold, trust me, somebody would have found it by now – even way out there where it’s over six hundred feet deep.” She turned away and climbed up the soft sand embankment that led up to the paved road. At the road, she turned. He still stood on the beach, his feet planted far apart, his fists clenched at his sides.
“Riley, Theo and I should be out there running a grid right now.” He half-turned and pointed out to where Bonefish and Shadow Chaser lay anchored. “I know for damn sure we’re not going to find a submarine in the village. We’re blowing what little lead we’ve got. You check the village. I’m going back to the boat.”
She stood her ground, her hands on her hips. “Cole Thatcher, you are the most stubborn man I have ever met. One hour. That’s all I ask.”
He crossed his arms high on his chest and glared at her. “Stubborn? Riley, look in the mirror.”
“Fine,” she said. “Do whatever you want. I’m going to ask around.” She turned and started walking. Before long, she heard his footfalls coming up behind her. She started to smile just before his hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She opened her mouth to protest, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her face in the hollow of his neck.
Chin resting on her head, he said, “Oh Miss Maggie Magee.” She could feel his chest bounce as he laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Us. I might be stubborn, but I’m not foolish enough to let you walk out on me. Come on. Let’s get this excursion over with. There’s one thing I know for certain. We work better as a team than we do when we’re knocking heads, to quote Theo.”
She leaned back and looked up at him. “You do have a way of making teamwork very pleasurable, Dr. Thatcher.”
Cole framed her face with his hands. “Okay, this time, we do it your way. One hour. But you’ll owe me, Magee. And I have some very specific ideas on how to make you pay up.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “I might have to tap my savings account. After all, I’ve been saving it for a couple of years.”
“I think I’ll put you on a regular installment plan,” he said as he ran his hands down her arms and then up under her T-shirt. “But frequent unscheduled payments will help –”
She swatted his hand away. “Town?” she said. “Submarine? Remember?”
He whirled on his heels and took off down the road, his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, whistling the tune, “We’re Off To See The Wizard.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Scott’s Head Bay, Dominica
March 30, 2008
12:05 p.m.
When the colorful clapboard houses gave way to a few sundry shops, Riley knew they were in the “downtown” of Scott’s Head village. Another ten minutes of walking and they’d be through it. Ahead, she saw a couple of wood tables on the front porch of a house. When they got closer, she saw the sign Ma Bert’s Restaurant. She climbed the steps and knocked on the door frame.
“Hello?” she called out.
Cole stood in the street, his back to her, one hand on his hip. He was staring out at his boat.
From inside a voice sang out. “I be right with you.”
Seconds later a large woman emerged from the back of the house. As she passed down the hall, she filled the space with her bulk. Riley stood aside as she stepped through the doorway. She was wearing an orange plaid jumper over a bright yellow blouse and in the mid-morning sunlight, Riley squinted against the glare.
“Good afternoon,” the woman said. There was something off about her island accent. It didn’t sound quite real. “Would you like to eat?” She waved a hand with a flourish in the direction of the two empty wood tables.
“I was wondering if you could answer a couple of questions for me.”
“All right.” The sing-song quality of the woman’s voice sounded too extreme.
“Have you lived here long?”
Little lines appeared between the woman’s eyebrows when she noticed the marks on Riley’s neck, but then she pasted the smile back on her face. “Yes,” she said drawing the word out. “Why do you ask?”
“We’re looking to talk to someone about something that happened here during the Second World War. In 1942.”
The woman reached for one of the laminated menus that rested on the table and she began to fan herself. “Do you mind if I sit down?” The sing-song quality to her voice was gone. It had lowered almost an octave and her accent now sounded more like the deep south than the islands. She eased herself into the chair.
Riley pulled out the other chair and sat across from her. She heard Cole cough several times out in the street.
“That’s better,” the woman said. “Whew! Nineteen forty-two. That’s a long time ago.” She stuck out her hand. “Eugenia Bert.”
Riley introduced herself and they shook. “It’s for this research project we’re doing,” she said.
The woman leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Did he do that to your face?”
Riley smiled. “No, it wasn’t him.”
“Well, that’s good then. As you can tell,” Eugenia continued, “I didn’t grow up here. My daddy was from Dominica, but I grew up in St. Mary’s, Georgia. Inherited this place. Tourists want the real thing, so I try, but this island life is getting to me.” She fanned herself harder. “What I wouldn’t give for a Big Mac.”
Riley heard a sigh from out in the street, and the woman sitting across from her glanced out at Cole’s back.
“Hmm. Not on island time, is he?”
Riley smiled and shrugged as if to say, you know men. “We are in a hurry, though. If you don’t know anyone —”
“Now, hold on. I didn’t say that. Everybody knows everybody round here.”
“So you can help me?”
“Sure. Hmm. Old timers. Start with the Charles family. They live up King Street here in the blue house with a plumeria tree out front. Name of the house is Parrot Perch. You’ll see the sign. Old Mr. Charles is in his eighties. Then, let’s see, there’s Mr. Jules, he’s the oldest, I believe. Lives right across the street from Mr. Charles. The two of them been friends a long time. No wait, I think I heard Mr. Jules married into that family after the war. His wife died just last year.”
Riley stood. “I’ll start with Mr. Charles. Thanks.” She backed her way off the porch while Eugenia kept throwing names her way.