Part 18 (1/2)

Even though I'd been expecting this, it hit me with such force I couldn't move. I sat in my mother's twelve-year-old Buick in a public parking lot and willed myself to breathe.

”Bob, as I've explained before, the five closed days are just one of many variables in the business plan. For example, if we were to exceed my very conservative revenue projections, we could absorb several more closed days and still make the agreed upon loan payments over the summer.” Actually, my revenue projections hadn't been conservative at all, but I was fighting for my family's property and livelihood.

”This loan has already been renegotiated twice. I don't see my superiors going for a third time.”

”Please, Bob. You know we're an important local business, part of what makes Busman's Harbor a tourist destination. Shutting us down at the start of the summer season will be a blow to the entire community.”

He was silent for a moment, and I thought I had him at least reconsidering.

”I have a pretty good source in the police department,” Bob said.

Of course he did. Everyone in town must be friends with at least one blabbermouth cop.

”I understand there may be a fugitive hiding on Morrow Island. I don't think you'll be allowed to open until he's captured and until arrests have been made for the murder and arson. If you knew when you were going to open, I could argue with the loan committee on your behalf, but as things stand-”

”Give me until tomorrow, Bob. Please. Just give me until tomorrow. If someone's arrested, I'll give you a new business plan. If I can't do that, give me the time to find a buyer.”

”You think between now and tomorrow you can find a full-price buyer for your properties?” He sounded surprised. Evidently Tony hadn't told Bob he was also talking directly to us.

”I'm certain of it.” Not full price perhaps, but enough to pay off the loan.

He whistled. ”Tell you what. It's Friday and already late afternoon in Europe. No one will probably answer the telephone at HQ anyway. You have the weekend. Either the police make an arrest and you bring me a new business plan by first thing Monday morning or you bring me a confirmed offer from a potential buyer.”

”Thank you. You won't regret it.”

And he wouldn't regret it, though I feared very much that I would.

I b.u.mped down the barely paved road toward Quentin Tupper's house on Westclaw Point and turned into his driveway. No sign of his wooden-sided estate wagon. Oh, no. What if he's gone back to New York? I had no way to reach him there.

I sat in my car writing a note on the back of an oil change receipt when Quentin pulled his car up behind me. Thank goodness.

”Ho, there!” he called.

I jumped out of Mom's car. I didn't have time for pleasantries. ”I think you should invest in my business.”

Quentin's eyebrows flew up toward his sandy hairline. He put his hand on my upper arm and said gently, ”I've explained. I don't get involved.”

”Then if you don't want a part of my business, you should buy Morrow Island.” If I couldn't save the business, I could at least get two buyers bidding against each other for the island and negotiate the best deal for my mother.

”I think you'd better come inside.” He led me into the sleek interior of his house, sat me down at his gla.s.s dining table, and brought me an ice water without my asking. ”Julia, I have no interest in anyone owning Morrow Island but you and your family.”

”But what if we can't hold onto it? I'm doing everything I can, but I've run out of time. Do you want Tony Poitras to build a resort over there with helicopters coming and going or do you want peace and quiet?”

”How much has Tony offered you?”

”I'd rather you just make an offer.” I wasn't going to tell him Tony's lowball number.

”Well, I'm not going to buy your island, so it won't hurt you to tell me how much Tony bid.”

”One point five million. That's a quarter of the amount Ray Wilson mentioned to one of my employees less than a month ago.”

Quentin folded his arms across his chest. ”So if you sell to Tony now, instead of letting the bank take it, you can protect some of your a.s.sets?”

”My mother's house in the harbor. And the Jacquie II.” I took a big swig of the ice water, but my throat was still parched. I couldn't take my eyes off Quentin. This had to work. What would he do?

”Am I correct in believing that you don't care who gets the island, you just want a higher bid to go back to Poitras with?”

”Yes,” I admitted. If we lost the island, what did I care who got it?

”I won't be your s.h.i.+ll, Julia.”

My heart sunk.

”But you do have leverage. Remember what I told you. Tony needs very specific things. He needs to be out of cell range, yet close enough to civilization he can get his helicopters to the island easily. He needs water, electricity, and waste disposal. Given all the regulations about building on these islands, he probably needs an existing structure with a footprint big enough to create his resort. And he needs to be sole owner of the island. There are thousands of islands in Maine, but once you apply all those criteria, his choices are much more limited. Use that knowledge and go back to him with a strong counteroffer. I know you can do it.”

The weight of the responsibility bore down on me physically. I heard what Quentin said, but I was still in a very weak position. Tony knew I was out of time. ”You're going to end up with a fancy resort across the water from you.” I stood to go.

Quentin got up, too, picking his car keys off the table. He'd have to move his antique Woodie so I could get out. ”I'll take that chance. Good luck.”

I certainly needed it.

Chapter 45.

I drove back to the harbor, put Mom's car in her garage, and walked down to our ticket kiosk to raise Etienne on the radio. Tony told me he'd seen Etienne and Gabrielle in the harbor on the night of the murder. What were they doing here? And much more important, why had Etienne lied repeatedly about their whereabouts that night?

Etienne's voice was weary when he answered. ”Could you come out to the island? I don't want to leave her.” I knew he meant Gabrielle. I a.s.sured him that I understood and would be out as soon as I could.

The problem was I didn't have a way to get there. I thought about who could take me. Sonny's dad would surely be out lobstering as would most of the working lobster-and fishermen in the harbor. I made a mental inventory of everyone I knew who might lend me a boat and kept coming back to one. On the one hand, he was the last person I wanted to see. On the other, I really needed to face up to him. Chris.

I headed over to the marina.

Neither his cab nor his landscaping truck were in the parking lot, but that didn't surprise me. During the part of the year when he lived on his boat he had to rent s.p.a.ce for his vehicles a fair walk away. For all I knew, the state police still had the cab.

”Ahoy!” I stood on the dock and tried to hale Chris. I'd never been on the Dark Lady and it would be impolite to board without an invitation. ”Ahoy!”

Chris emerged on deck looking disheveled. And by disheveled, I meant dreamy. His s.h.i.+rt was off, his feet were bare, and he wore only a pair of dress pants.

I registered that. Pants, not jeans.

He had a s.e.xy two-day growth of beard.

”Oh, hi. This isn't a great time.” He held up his razor to indicate he'd been about to shave, but I had a feeling he wasn't referring to a simple grooming task.

”That's okay. This won't take long.” I jumped onto the Dark Lady, uninvited.