Palindrome

CHAPTER 14

Liz stuck her head into the little office at the inn. Germaine was talking on the cellular telephone that was the inn's only electronic contact with the mainland. "Buy a girl a cup of coffee?" Liz asked.

Germaine covered the phone with her hand. "I'll be with you in a minute; help yourself."

Liz walked into the kitchen, searching for coffee. Hamish Drummond was sitting at the otherwise empty staff table, sipping from a cup and reading a newspaper. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove and joined him. "Morning," he said, smiling. The usual detached charm.

"What's in the papers?" she asked. "I haven't seen one for a while."

"The news is bad," Hamish said, "for the Atlanta Bobcats anyway. Bake Ramsey hurt his knee, and it looks like he's out for most of the season."

"I don't follow football," she said. Not anymore. Baker had never been seriously injured before, she remembered-not in college, not in the pros. She wondered how he was taking it. Then she dismissed her ex-husband from her mind. He was no longer her concern. "Anything else of importance?"

He held the paper back and cast an eye over the front page. "Mmm, let's see-unilateral disarmament; first man on Mars; Second Coming." He shook his head.

"Nothing as important as Ramsey's knee."

"Now we know what your priorities are."

"Damn right. I had money on that game. The 'cats should have creamed 'em." Hamish stood and drained his cup.

Germaine entered from her office. "You off, then?"

"Yep. A boat's coming for me from Fernandina."

"You're leaving us?" Liz asked.

"Yeah, for a week or so, anyway. Got to go to New York, make a few bucks."

"Okay. Have a good trip."

"Thanks." He snaked an arm around his sister's neck and kissed her on the lips. "Take care."

"You, too. You will come back?"

"Once I do this deal I can afford some time off. I'll come back and wait tables or something."

"That'll be the day," Germaine said dryly.

Hamish grabbed his bag, left by the back door, and headed for the inn's dock. Germaine poured herself some coffee and sank down beside Liz.

"Whew, busy morning until this minute. Nice to have a break." She peered at Liz. "Something's different, you seem awfully pleased with yourself."

Liz blushed. Was she so easily read? Germaine's eyebrows went up. "Ahhhhh," she crowed quietly.

"Ah, what?" Liz asked, avoiding her gaze.

"He told me you'd met. You've gotten even better acquainted."

Liz was shocked. "He told you that?"

"Nope."

Germaine laughed. "You did. It's written all over you."

"I don't believe you," Liz said, feeling redder.

"Listen, you were wound pretty tight when you got here. Now, suddenly, you're all aglow." She looked ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay." Liz sighed. "I should probably get your advice anyway."

"Enjoy! That's what I do."

"You do? Who with?" Germaine nodded in the direction of the dining room. Liz turned to see a nineteen-year-old male backside in tight jeans pointed at her as Ron, the waiter, swung a mop back and forth across the floor.

"You're kidding," Liz said.

"Nope. The first year or two I ran the inn, I nearly went nuts I was so horny-we almost never get a single man as a guest here. Then I discovered the pleasures of young flesh. They come here to work for the summer. It's perfect."

"Well, I'll be damned," Liz said.

"Me too, probably, but it's worth it. The funny thing is, they love it, being with an older woman. At that age they've maybe screwed a cheerleader or two, but that isn't much experience. I send 'em away ready for anything."

She leaned close. "Ol' Ron, there, will be the hottest thing on campus when he gets back to school. And the nice thing is, I'm having to make him go back. He wants to stay on for the winter!"

"You salty old thing, you!"

"Damn right. I'll be forty next month, and I'm still nuts about young flesh!"

The two women dissolved into laughter, so much so that Ron turned and looked questioningly at them. "Girl talk, sweetheart," Germaine called to him. "Don't mind us." Ron gave her a broad wink and went back to his mopping. "To tell you the truth," Germaine said, "I was thinking of offering him to you, you seemed so lonely, but I guess that's all taken care of, and I can't say I blame you. I've always thought my baby brothers were the dishiest things around."

"Well, I don't know where this is going. He seems pretty slippery, your brother."

"That's true enough. He might just get up and go; you should take that into account."

"I'm not looking for anything permanent," Liz said truthfully, then she grinned. "But I do hope he sticks around for a little longer."

They burst out laughing again. When they had recovered themselves, Germaine looked at her more seriously. "It's been awhile, has it?"

"Awhile."

"How long you been divorced?"

"It was final after I arrived here."

"It ended badly?"

"He put me in the hospital."

"Shit," Germaine said. "My ex slapped me once, and I broke his nose with my fist."

Liz laughed in spite of herself. "I was outclassed in the muscle department, believe me."

"I hope you stuck him for a lot."

"I did, but if he ever gets his hands on me…"

"Jesus, no wonder you wanted to come someplace like this."

"Well, when Ray made the offer, it did seem the answer to a prayer."

Germaine grinned. "And Keir was the answer to another prayer?"

"Well, let's just say he's awfully nice to have around."

"I'm glad to hear it. I've been worried about both of you. Just don't get too involved; he really is capable of vanishing into thin air. Does it all the time."

"I'd thought as much." Germaine slapped her palms on the table and rose. "Well, I've got a grocery order to make up and phone in. You finish your coffee, and we'll talk some more another time."

"Thanks, I'd like that." Germaine headed for her desk, and Liz idly turned her attention to the newspaper that Hamish had left behind.

A banner above the masthead read, BOBCATS' HOPES DASHED AS RAMSEY BASHES KNEE IN L.A. OPENER. Once again, she pushed Baker Ramsey out of her mind. She scanned the front page and stopped at the bottom. ATLANTA LAWYER FOUND DEAD IN BEVERLY HILLS POOL. She read on: Albert Schaefer, a prominent Atlanta trial attorney, was found dead on Sunday morning in the swimming pool of the Beverly Hills Hotel by a lifeguard who arrived for work. His body was fully clothed when found. A Beverly Hills Police Department spokesman confirmed that death was by drowning and stated further that the alcohol content of Schaefer's bloodstream was elevated.

The investigating detectives surmised that Schaefer had fallen into the pool while drunk, during the early hours of Sunday morning, and had been unable to save himself. The lawyer's ex-wife confirmed that Schaefer was a nonswimmer with a fear of water, and the spokesman said that foul play was not suspected. Liz had known Al Schaefer only briefly, but she was shocked and immensely sad at the news of his death. Then she looked again at the headline. L.A., she thought. No, it was a coincidence. But if it was a coincidence, why was she suddenly so frightened?