“Somebody’s getting a nice present,” the woman said.
“Yeah, the Kaisers,” I said. “I’m on my way over there now.”
She smiled and nodded.
“You know, the Kaisers’ house. Over by the…”
I let that one drift off. I waited for her to pick it up, but she just looked at me and blinked a few times.
“Thanks,” I said, leaving with my big basket of fruit.
I walked down to the post office and maneuvered my way through the door, almost knocking a few people over with the basket. When I got inside, the operation was even smaller than I had imagined. One counter with a roll-up gate, a number of post office boxes taking up two of the other walls. One little desk for people to put packages on while they taped them closed and stuck on their stamps.
“Who’s the lucky duck?” the postmaster said. She was one of those old yet ageless ladies, with the perpetual twinkle in her eye.
“I’m a little lost,” I said, putting on my best slightly daft, totally innocent, completely trustworthy face. Looking like a true Michigander, in other words.
“You can’t get too lost around here,” she said. “You just keep walking until you hit water. Then you know to stop.”
I gave her a good laugh on that one.
“I’m meeting my friend on the ferry,” I said. “And then we’re going out to some people’s house. These two people he knows. But he won’t be here for a while and I was just hoping I could-”
“What’s the name, hon?”
“Kaiser.”
“No, don’t know them. And believe me, I know everybody on this whole island. Are you sure you’ve got that right?”
“They might just be renting the house for the summer,” I said. “Harry and Josephine Kaiser.”
She looked up in the air, shaking her head. “Nope. Sorry, hon.”
I felt the whole thing falling apart then. I still had a half hour to wait. Then I’d tell Lou this whole thing was a bust and we’d have to go back and start from scratch. Our only consolation would be a basket of fruit to eat on the way back to Paradise.
“Wait a minute, you don’t mean Harry and Jo Kennedy, do you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, who are we talking about?”
“You know, Harry and Jo,” she said. “With the hair? And the clothes? Like they went to Woodstock and never made it back?”
She started laughing again and I tried to laugh with her. It was hard to do while my mind was racing ahead. A different place, a different last name. Same first names. A classic soft alias for people doing something criminal and making a token effort to cover their tracks.
“She was just here,” the woman said. “Ten minutes ago. You just missed her.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” I tried to replay the tape in my head, me standing outside on the street, watching the people walk by. I’d probably looked right at her.
“They’re renting the Hoffmans’ place,” she said. “You know where that is, right?”
“I think so. It’s right up over by the…”
I let it trail off and this time it worked. She filled in the gaps and led me right to the house, over on the western side of the island. She even drew me a map. I thanked her a dozen times on my way out the door. As soon as the door closed, the happy little fake smile on my face was long gone.
I spent the next few minutes back over by the ferry dock. I was looking at my watch. I was counting down the minutes until that impossibly slow boat decided to finally turn the corner on that inlet. Even when I saw it, I knew it would be another several minutes before it docked, and then even more minutes until the cars were driven out of the hold. I couldn’t stop thinking about all those cars on the street behind me, all those unlocked cars left there by happy carefree islanders, some of them with the keys still dangling from the ignition.
Thirty more minutes, I told myself. Thirty minutes and you’ll have backup.
I was still holding the fruit basket. It was getting heavy. I was just about to put it down. That’s when I felt something jab into my ribs.
“Don’t turn around.”
A woman’s voice. She was right behind me. Just inches away. I felt her breath on my neck.
“Nobody can see this gun,” she said. “But if I have to I’ll shoot you right through the gut. Do you believe me?”
I nodded.
“I don’t care how much of a scene it would make. I’ll shoot you dead and then I’ll just start screaming and I’ll pretend the gun is yours. That you tried to abduct me and somehow it went off. Are we clear?”
I nodded again.
“Good thing I happened to stop back in the post office, huh? Flo told me you were looking for me.”
I felt her free hand slip around my waist. She was giving me a quick, expert pat down.
“Silly me,” she said. “You’ve got your gun in the fruit basket, right? I’d like you to drop it now. Do not bend down, do you understand me? Just let it drop.”
I did as I was told. The basket hit the pavement and half the fruit started rolling away. Oranges. Apples. Grapefruit. All ruined.
“That’s a shame,” she said. “But we’ll get over it.”
I still hadn’t seen her face. I stood there looking out at the water. In the distance, I could finally see the ferry. It was still a good mile away. Maybe two.
“Okay,” she said. “Whoever you are. It’s time for us to take a little ride.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“This is how it’s gonna work.” She had stepped away from me. Now she was four feet behind me. Maybe five.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said.
“Shut up,” she said. “Not another word, do you understand? I’ll drop you right here and nobody will have any idea what happened. I’ve got the gun inside a plastic grocery bag right now. Don’t turn around, just take my word for it. It’s inside this bag and if I need to shoot you I will. Everybody will start screaming. Nobody will know what the hell is going on. Nobody will see the gun. I’ll just drop the bag and run away, like everybody else. You get what I’m saying? Just nod your head if you do.”
I nodded.
“All right, then. There’s a parking lot next to the post office. Across the street. You’re going to turn around and you’re going to walk to it. You’re not going to make a sound. You’re not going to look at anybody. You’re going to look straight at the ground. If you so much as take one step in another direction, or if you so much as raise one hand… If you do anything that isn’t one hundred-percent perfect and cooperative… I will shoot you without even blinking. Again, are we clear?”
I nodded.
“There’s a black Jeep Cherokee on the left side of the lot. When you get to it, I want you to open the driver’s-side door and get in. Sit with your hands in your lap and don’t do anything else. Last time, are we clear?”
She’s talking a good game, I thought. But I can’t imagine she really wants to shoot me. Not unless she’s a psychopath or something. Problem is, her finger’s no doubt on the trigger. She probably has the damned thing half-squeezed already. If I do something stupid, she might react without even thinking about it.
As I turned slowly, I got a quick look at her. She was a little older than me, one of those women who say the hell with it and let their hair grow down over the shoulders, no matter how gray it is. Green tie-dyed summer dress with a black belt. Her eyes were sharp and quick and she had probably been attractive in some other decade, but even I could have told her that green was the worst possible color on her. It made her pale skin look purple and the ugly sandals didn’t help one bit. Not that she would have cared one little bit what I thought of her appearance. I or anyone else. No makeovers for this woman. She had the hard-set mouth of someone who stands around sucking every last ounce of poison out of a cigarette and complaining about life.