“Uh, yeah,” Silk said, eyeing Hugh with a sidelong glance. “Something like that.”
“I've made it myself, once or twice. Tell me, how many paintings do you have completed and ready for purchase?” she asked.
Silk shrugged. “Who knows? Probably a couple dozen or so. I can get some back from Miles at the Hellfire if you want 'em. You really serious about taking 'em back to Seattle?”
“Deadly serious,” Mattie said.
“Dang. What makes you think you can sell 'em there? I can't hardly give 'em away around here.”
“Probably because the general level of artistic taste here on St. Gabriel is pathetically low,” Mattie said dryly. “Most of the art I've come across so far has been the sort one finds on the girlie calendars hanging in the offices of Abbott Charters.”
“Now, hold on,” Hugh interrupted. “I didn't hang those up. Ray and Derek did that.”
Mattie gave him a skeptical look and turned back to Silk. “Don't worry, Silk. I can sell your work. Guaranteed.”
“What makes you think folks back in Seattle will think my work is worth a lot of money?”
“They'll think it is worth a great deal of money because I will tell them it is worth a great deal of money,” Mattie explained very gently.
Silk's eyes widened appreciatively. Then he gave a great shout of laughter. “I like your style, Mattie Sharpe. Something tells me you and me were born to do business together.”
Hugh was about to comment on the unlikely friendship budding before his eyes when the phone rang. He got up reluctantly to answer it. The only calls he ever got were business calls, and he really didn't want to take one right now. The only problem was, he could hardly afford to ignore one.
“Abbott Charters,” he said automatically, his eyes on Mattie and Silk, who were engaged in an animated discussion on the subject of art gallery contracts.
“Abbott? That you?” The voice was low, rasping, and familiar.
Hugh was suddenly paying full attention to his caller. “This is Abbott.”
“It's me. Rosey. Remember me?”
“Yeah, Rosey, I remember you.”
“Remember what you said? About being willing to pay big bucks for some info?”
“The offer's still open.”
“Good.” There was gloating satisfaction in Rosey's rasping voice. “I'm here and I got what you want. I think. But it'll cost you, pal. This is dangerous stuff.”
“You're here? On St. Gabe?”
“Yeah. Got in this afternoon. I been lyin' low, waiting to see if I was followed. But it looks like I'm in the clear. I've done some checkin' around. Know that old, abandoned warehouse just north of town? Right near the beach?”
“I know it. Lily Cove.” Hugh realized that the conversation at the table had ceased. He looked across the small room and saw that Mattie and Silk were both watching him intently.
“Meet me there in half an hour.”
“All right.”
“And Abbott?”
“Yeah, Rosey?”
“Bring cash. A thousand big ones.”
“Christ, Rosey, I'm buying information, not a bridge.”
“This information is worth it. If you don't want it, I can sell it somewheres else.”
“Come on, Rosey. We both know you're bluffing. Who else would want this kind of information?”
“I don't know yet, but I got a feeling there's more than one guy who'd pay for what I've got.”
“But you're in a hurry, right, Rosey? You need the money tonight. You can't afford to sit around and wait for another buyer.”
“Goddamn it, Abbott,” Rosey said, his voice taking on the characteristic whine, “if you want the name you're after, be at that warehouse in half an hour. With the thousand.”
“Five hundred and that's it, Rosey.”
“Sheesh. Okay, okay. Like you say, I can't hang around. Five hundred.”
The receiver on the other end was slammed down in Hugh's ear. He gently replaced the phone and looked at Silk and Mattie.
“That was Rosey?” Mattie asked.
“Yeah.” He met Silk's steady blue gaze. “He's got a name. Wants five hundred in cash for it.”
Silk shook his head. “Poor guy's got delusions of grandeur.”
“What name?” Mattie demanded, starting to look anxious.
“The name of the guy who shot Paul Cormier. Or so he says. Who knows with a rodent like our friend Rosey.” Hugh walked over to the tiny kitchen and opened a chipped metal cabinet. He found his revolver behind the sack of pinto beans he kept for making chili.
“You're going to see Rosey? Tonight? Hugh, what is this all about?” Mattie got to her feet clutching the spoon she had been using to serve the pasta. “Why are you taking your gun?”
“Yes, I'm going to talk to Rosey, and I'm taking the gun because when one is dealing with the Roseys of this world, one feels more secure when one is armed.” He shoved the revolver into his belt and went over to the table. He felt ridiculously pleased by her unnecessary concern. “Now, don't worry. I won't be gone long.”
“I don't like this,” Mattie stated emphatically. “I don't like it at all.”
“I'll be back before you know it.” He bent his head and kissed the tip of her nose. “Silk will stay here with you until I get back. Won't you, Silk?” He met the big man's knowing eyes.
“Sure,” Silk said. “If that's what you want.”
Hugh nodded. “That's what I want.”
Silk shrugged. “You're the boss. You going to give him the five hundred?”
“Probably. If the information is good.”
“Where you going to get that kind of money at this time of night?”
“I'll stop off at the office on the way. There should be a couple of grand in the safe. Derek and Ray got paid in cash for delivering those medical supplies to St. Julian.”
Mattie followed as Hugh went toward the door. “You will be careful, won't you?”
“I'll be careful.”
“How will you know if Rosey is telling you the truth? Maybe he'll just give you a name, take your money, and run.”
“He wouldn't get far,” Hugh said. “And I think he's just barely smart enough to know that.” He kissed her again and firmly closed the door in her anxious face. He went out to where the Jeep was parked in the drive.
It was starting to rain again. Another squall was about to sweep over the island. The palms rustled in the breeze and the night scents of the jungle were strong.
He was going to miss St. Gabriel for however long he had to stay in Seattle, Hugh thought as he started the Jeep and drove toward the main road. It was odd how the island had become home during the past couple of years. It was the first real home he could remember. He couldn't wait to start building his dream house overlooking the sea. He just knew Mattie was going to love it.
But first he had to survive Seattle.
He drove into town, past the loud taverns and bars, and parked in front of Abbott Charters. He let himself in the front door and walked through the darkened interior to the small office, where he kept a big old-fashioned safe. He switched on the light.
There was nearly five thousand in the safe. Hugh reminded himself to get it to the bank in the morning, and then he counted out five hundred in large bills, folded it up, and stuffed it into his pocket. He'd put it down on the books as petty cash.
On the way out of the office Hugh automatically glanced around with a proud, possessive eye. Abbott Charters was starting to thrive. Another year or two and he would be ready for serious expansion. He considered the business his first and only real accomplishment in life other than keeping himself alive. It was the one positive thing he had ever created from scratch. It was his dream, his future, his hope for a different sort of life than the one he had been living for the past forty years.
He wondered if that was how Mattie felt about her art gallery. The thought was unsettling and he pushed it aside. Mattie would be okay out here. He would see t
o that.
On the way out the door Hugh ripped the nearest girlie calendar down from the wall and tossed it into the trash can.
Ten minutes later Hugh pulled the Jeep off the road and parked it a discreet distance from the abandoned warehouse on Lily Cove. He walked silently through the jungle to the edge of the clearing, where the sagging structure crouched like a dinosaur carcass in the pale moonlight.
Trust Rosey to pick a suitably picturesque spot for the deal. Hugh frowned as he scanned the clearing for signs of life. Something like this was better handled in the loud, noisy, well-populated environment of the Hellfire. But Rosey obviously preferred scuttling around in the shadows. Once a rat, always a rat.
There was one vehicle parked near the precariously tilted loading dock, a small, rusty compact Rosey had probably picked up at the airport.
The gaping dark opening above the loading dock was the obvious way into the building. Hugh considered it briefly and then decided to enter the warehouse through a side door that hung on its hinges.
There was no sound from the black interior. Outside the rain was starting to fall more heavily. It swept into the building through the wide-open loading dock entrance.
Hugh eased the revolver out of his belt and edged through the doorway and into the shadows. Knowing how swiftly aging wood rotted in this climate, he slid one booted foot along the floor.
The toe of his boot found thin air. Hugh yanked his leg back and glanced down. He could see almost nothing in the shadows but he knew his suspicions were correct. The floorboards had rotted away in sections. He would have to move carefully or risk breaking a leg.
“Rosey?”
There was no response. Hugh kept his shoulder in contact with one wall as he worked his way silently around the building to the loading dock entrance. The rain was thrumming on the roof now, hiding any small sounds that he or anyone else might make.
Something was wrong and Hugh knew it. If all had been well, Rosey would have made his presence known by now and demanded his money.
The figure lying in the rain on the loading dock looked like a heap of old clothing at first. Hugh crouched in the shadows, gun in hand, and stared at the too-still bundle. He swore silently.
Rosey, you damned fool. Why didn't you meet me in town? Why play games?
He waited another minute or two, but his senses told him the warehouse was empty except for himself and Rosey. Hugh straightened and went reluctantly over to the rain-soaked body.
Very gently he reached down and turned the bundle over. In the weak light Hugh could see the dark, wet stain that soaked the front of Rosey's shirt. Hugh checked for a pulse.
Rosey groaned softly.
Startled, Hugh hunkered down beside him.
“Rosey?”
“That you, Abbott?” Rosey's eyes fluttered.
“Yeah, Rosey, it's me.”
“Son of a bitch got me. Thought I was being so careful. Tell Gibbs, will ya, if you see him. He'll wonder.”
“I will. Rosey, who did this?”
“Rain…” There was a curious, wondering tone in Rosey's voice before the single word ended in a choking, bloody gargle.
“I know it's raining, Rosey. I'll get you out of it. Who was it, man?”
But Rosey was gone.
Hugh got slowly to his feet and looked down at the little man who had died in the pouring rain.
Two deaths in less than a week. Damn, Hugh thought in disgust. Life had been going so well lately, too. And now this.
Just like old times.
Mattie poured another cup of green tea for Silk and watched as he polished off the last of the sweet potato pie she had made for dessert. He had eaten nearly the entire pan.
“So how long have you lived here on St. Gabriel?” Mattie asked.
“Couple of years,” Silk said around a mouthful of pie.
“About as long as Hugh, then?”
“Right. Me and him moved out here together.”
“Really? Where were you before you arrived here?”
“Here and there.” Silk grinned. “No fixed address, I guess you'd say. Hugh was doing odd jobs for Vailcourt, and I just sort of drifted around with him, helping out sometimes.”
“Fascinating. Did my aunt know you were on the payroll?”
“Nah. Hugh figured why bother her with the details. She's an executive type. Folks like that only care about the bottom line. He just put me down under petty expenses when he sent his bills into Vailcourt Accounting.”
“I see.” Mattie hid a smile. “I take it you've known Hugh for a long time?”
“Sure. We been working together for years.”
“Where did you meet him?”
Silk scowled, looking thoughtful. “As best as I can remember, I think it was a bar somewhere along the coast of Mexico. I forget the name of the town. Neither of us stayed there long. Had a little trouble.”
“You were working in the area?”
“Abbot and I was flying charter for a guy who was running a little operation there. Pretty cushy job but it didn't last long.”
Mattie propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her folded hands. “You said that job did not last long. What did the two of you do after that?”
Silk grinned. “You plying me with sweet potato pie and tea in order to get me to talk?”
“Just idle curiosity,” Mattie explained airily as she got up to clear the table.
“Yeah, well better exercise your idle curiosity on the boss. He'll nail my hide to the wall if I get too chatty.”
“Why?” Mattie inquired innocently.
“He doesn't like to talk too much about the past.”
“Any particular reason?”
Silk leaned back in his chair, replete. “He pretty much likes to forget his past for the most part. Not the sort who looks back, you know? Abbott's got his eye on the future these days.”
“Was Paul Cormier a big part of Hugh's past?”
Silk's engaging grin belied the shrewd intelligence in his big blue eyes. “Cormier? You could say he was an old friend. Hugh's real loyal to old friends. Probably because he hasn't got too many of 'em.”
“Anyone else besides you now?”
“Well,” said Silk very smoothly, “I reckon there's you, too.”
Mattie shot him a quick glance as she filled the cracked sink with hot water. “Hugh and I have not really known each other very long,” she murmured. “This is the first time I've seen him in nearly a year.”
“I know. He told me you'd been ducking him. He didn't like that.” Silk shook his head. “Never seen a female who could make Abbott run around in circles the way he's been doing these past few months. And now you're dragging him all the way off to Seattle. He's gonna hate Seattle.”
“Yes,” said Mattie. “I know. Don't worry, Silk. He won't be there long.”
Silk's eyes narrowed abruptly. “What the hell's that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I'm certain Hugh will soon get tired of Seattle and bored with me when he realizes I have no intention of moving here to St. Gabriel. He'll give up on his big plans to marry me, and he'll be back here before you know it.” She smiled bleakly. “After all, he's got a business to run.”
Silk looked baffled. “You mean you're taking him back with you even though you know he won't be staying long?”
“I'm not taking him back with me. He's insisting on accompanying me on the return trip.”
“Yeah, but that's so's he can convince you that he likes you better than your nitwit sister. He told me all about it.”
The sound of the Jeep in the drive halted Mattie's reply. Relief poured through her. “He's back.”
“Sure. What did you think he was going to do? Spend the rest of the night drinking at the Hellfire or something? Hugh ain't the type.”
“No, I was afraid he was walking into trouble. That Rosey he went to see is not a very nice little man.” Mattie quickly dried her hands on the ragged towel and went toward the door.
It opened and Hugh strode into the small hall, shaking the rain from his hair.
“Hugh, I've been so worried. Thank heavens you're all right.” Mattie raced forward and threw herself into his arms.
“Well, well, well,” Silk said from the other side of the room. He surveyed the couple with a beatific smile. “Ain't that a picture. Maybe this little trip to Seattle is going to turn out all right after all. I left you a slice of pie, boss.”
“Thanks,” Hugh said over the top of Mattie's head. His eyes met Silk's.
“Trouble?” Silk asked.
“Yeah.”
“Mattie had a hunch there would be,” Silk said with a sigh.
“I still can't believe that Rosey's dead,” Mattie said two hours later as she paced the floor of Hugh's small beach house. “Whoever killed him could have killed you, too. I knew that meeting was going to be dangerous. I just had a feeling.”
“Well, it wasn't. Not for me, at any rate.” Hugh opened the refrigerator and reached inside for a beer. “Just for Rosey.”
“So now you and Silk are back to square one as far as finding Cormier's murderer goes.” Mattie rubbed her palms up and down her bare arms. Silk had left an hour ago after Hugh had gone through all the details of his late-night meeting at the warehouse. The big man had not seemed particularly shocked by Rosey's death. It was almost as if he was accustomed to that kind of news.
“We'll find him.”
“How are you going to do that in Seattle?” Mattie asked.
“Silk will be in touch if anything turns up. Seattle's not the end of the world.”
“Aren't there police or federal agencies who should be handling this kind of thing?”
“Not on Purgatory. They're in the middle of a coup over there, remember?” Hugh went across the room and opened a cupboard.
Mattie watched him pull out a well-worn khaki green duffel bag that looked as though it had been hauled around the world several times. She sank down onto a wicker chair and watched as Hugh carried numerous changes of underwear and shirts out of the bedroom and dumped them into the duffel bag.
“Why the rush? Why do we have to leave tomorrow?” she asked. The sense of urgency had been hovering in the air ever since Hugh had walked back in the door.