Part 15 (2/2)
”Of course it is. Don't tell me you believed all that BS about how concerned he is about the island and its poor, struggling inhabitants.”
”He might care about them.”
”William Northrop's a hotshot developer who's at the top of his game. He's got money to burn on stupid-looking houses that aren't even practical for human beings to live in. He sure as h.e.l.l didn't get where he's at by sacrificing to serve the suffering ma.s.ses. He's in it for the money.”
Savannah had a feeling he was right, but she was too far into the argument to abandon it now. ”I think he cared about his wife.”
”I didn't say he didn't. I just said he's acting like a jerk for covering up what happened to her, no matter how he rationalizes it.”
”That's true.”
He gave her a quick, sideways glance-his expression that of total astonishment. ”Are you saying I'm right?”
”About that? Yeah.”
He grinned. ”Are you telling me I just won an argument with you?”
”You keep this up, I won't be telling you anything, because I won't be speaking to you.”
”Holy cow! I just won an argument with you! I've known you for how many years and that's never happened before! It must be because we're married now! We should've gotten married a long time ago!”
”So, where you do want to go now? What's the next step?”
He laughed. ”That's it. Change the subject.”
As he guided the Jag slowly around the hairpin curves, Savannah took advantage of the view of the harbor below. The morning fog had burned away and the water was a spectacular shade of sapphire blue, which was her favorite color. Since she'd been a child, people had told her that her eyes were that color. Sometimes she wondered if that was part of why she had always had an affinity for the sea.
She decided to think about that instead of the crowing, highly annoying guy in the driver's seat next to her.
”Well, what do you think we should do next?” he asked, much to her relief.
”We have two possible suspects. We should follow up on one of them, then the other. Who do you want to do first?”
”This conservation group is right here on the island,” he said. ”That terrorist behind the knockoff watches and purses . . . didn't the TV station guy say he's somewhere in the LA area, waiting to go to trial?”
”Yes. Maybe Tammy can find out where exactly.”
Dirk turned the Jag down the hill, heading for the harbor. ”Northrop said that conservation lady, June Glenn, has an office down by the coast guard's headquarters. Why don't we go talk to her?”
”Good idea.”
They drove a little way in silence. Then Savannah said, ”You're right about Northrop being a jerk. We'll keep an eye on him, too.”
”You never trust the spouses.”
She reached over and patted his hand that was resting on the Jaguar's gear s.h.i.+ft. ”I trust mine,” she said softly.
”That's all that matters to me.”
Finding the office of the Island Protection League was a bit of a challenge for Savannah and Dirk, even though it was, just as William Northrop had said, located next door to the coast guard station on the harbor front.
What he had neglected to mention was that the league's front door wasn't visible from the street. One had to duck between the station and Coconut Jane's Tavern, walk down a narrow pa.s.sageway, which wasn't even three feet wide, to the rear of Jane's building to find the small door, with peeling blue paint, that bore the IPL sign painted haphazardly by an amateur hand.
”Fancy digs,” Dirk said. ”h.e.l.l, my trailer looks way better than this. Bet it's a dump inside, too.”
Savannah shot him a look and thought of the way he'd handled the interview with Northrop. On a good day, Dirk's basic personality leaned toward ”morose.” Sometimes he ventured over into ”cranky.” But when he was in ”downright cantankerous” territory, she preferred to conduct her interviews without him.
”I've got an idea,” she said. ”Why don't you let me talk to this Dr. Glenn gal and you go next door to the coast guard?”
”Why would I wanna do that?”
”They might have logs or manifests or whatever you call 'em from the ferries that go back and forth to the mainland. It might prove interesting to see who was coming and going around the days the Northrops were shot. You'd do better with, you know, the guys than I would.”
He nodded thoughtfully. ”That's a very good idea. I'll do that. You take care of the lady doctor, and I'll deal with the rowdy sailors.”
She smiled. To get Dirk to do something, all she had to do was appeal to his inner Knight in s.h.i.+ning Armor. It was one of the more endearing facets of his complex psyche.
”Thank you, darlin',” she said, giving him the benefit of a deep-dimpled smile.
”Anything for my lady” was the reply before he disappeared down the narrow walkway.
She breathed a small sigh of relief, turned to the battered old door, and knocked lightly.
”Come in,” said a soft voice from within. ”The door's open.”
Savannah turned the k.n.o.b and pushed. At first, the door stuck in its warped frame. But with a bit more effort, it swung open.
She stepped inside what turned out to be a very small office. One desk, two folding metal chairs, and a wastepaper basket were all the Island Protection League appeared to own in the world.
The walls had probably been white at one time but were now a dingy gray. Their only adornment was a poster of a sea lion touching noses with her adorable pup.
But the lady sitting behind the desk, who stood to greet Savannah, was the exact opposite of her lackl.u.s.ter surroundings.
Savannah figured the woman was around fifty, an elegant, blond woman, with graceful bearing and intelligent green eyes that met Savannah's with a scrutiny that would have made a more timid soul uneasy.
She was wearing a royal blue suit, a cream blouse made of crepe de chine, accented with a blue-and-black scarf twisted loosely around her neck. Her only jewelry was a pair of small, gold hoop earrings.
As she walked around the desk, Savannah noticed how well the perfectly tailored suit showed off her figure. Savannah also decided that she'd be glad to have a shapely pair of legs like that at any age, but especially at fifty.
”I'm June Glenn,” she said, offering her hand. ”How may I help you?”
Savannah returned the firm, confident handshake and answered, ”My name is Savannah Reid. I'd like to talk to you a few minutes, if you have some spare time.”
Dr. Glenn chuckled and motioned for Savannah to sit on one of the folding chairs. ”Time, Ms. Reid, is probably the one thing I have the least of.” She glanced at her watch. ”I have an appointment in fifteen minutes, but until then, you have my full attention. What's on your mind?”
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