Duma Key

"No. It didn't. I think she made the drawing, and I'm sure she did it in pencil, and I think when she was done, she erased the whole thing. It probably would have killed a human being the way I killed Candy Brown, but Perse wasn't human. All it did was make her angry. She paid Elizabeth back by taking the twins, whom she idolized. Tessie and Laura didn't go down that path to the Shade Beach to look for more treasure. They were driven. They ended up in the water, and they were lost."

"Only not for good," Wireman said, and I knew he was thinking of certain small footprints. Not to mention the thing that had been in my kitchen.

"No," I agreed. "Not for good."

The wind blew again, this time hard enough to send something thudding against the Gulf side of the house. We all jumped.

"How did it get this Emery Paulson?" Jack asked.

"I don't know," I said.

"And Adriana," Wireman said. "Did Perse get her, too?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe." Reluctantly I added: "Probably."

"We haven't seen Adriana," Wireman said. "There's that."

"Not yet," I said.

"But the little girls drowned," Jack said. Like he was trying to get it straight. "This Perse-thing lured them into the water. Or something."

"Yes," I said. "Or something."

"But then there was a search. Outsiders."

"There had to be, Jack," Wireman said. "People knew they were gone. Shannington, for one."

"I know that," Jack said. "It's what I'm saying. So Elizabeth and her Dad and the housekeeper just dummied up?"

"What other choice?" I asked. "Was John Eastlake going to tell forty or fifty volunteers 'The boogeylady took my daughters, look for the boogeylady?' He might not even have known. Although he must have found out at some point." I was thinking of the picture of him screaming. Screaming and bleeding.

" What other choice covers it for me," Wireman said. "I want to know what happened after the search was over. Just before she died, Miss Eastlake said something about drowning her back to sleep. Did she mean Perse? And if she did, how does a thing like that work?"

I shook my head. "Don't know."

" Why don't you know?"

"Because the rest of the answers are on the south end of the island," I said. "At whatever's left of the original Heron's Roost. And I think that's where Perse is, too."

"All right, then," Wireman said. "Unless we're prepared to vacate Duma posthaste, it seems to me that we ought to go there."

"Based on what happened to Tom, we don't even have that choice," I said. "I sold a lot of paintings, and the guys at the Scoto won't hold them forever."

"Buy them back," Jack suggested. Not that I hadn't already thought of that myself.

Wireman shook his head. "Plenty of the owners won't want to sell, not even at twice the price. And a story like this wouldn't convince them."

To this, no one said anything.

"But she's not quite as strong in daylight," I said. "I'd suggest nine o'clock."

"Fine by me," Jack said, and stood up. "I'll be here at quarter of. Right now I'm going back across the bridge to Sarasota." The bridge. That started an idea knocking around in my head.

"You're welcome to stay here," Wireman said.

"After this conversation?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "With all due respect, dude, no way. But I'll be here tomorrow."

"Long pants and boots are the order of the day," Wireman said. "It'll be overgrown down there, and there could be snakes." He scrubbed a hand up the side of his face. "Looks like I might be missing tomorrow's viewing at Abbot-Wexler. Miss Eastlake's relatives will have to bare their teeth at each other. What a pity... hey, Jack."

Jack had started for the door. Now he turned back.

"You don't happen to have any of Edgar's art, do you?"

"Mmm... well..."

"Fess up. Confession's good for the soul, compa ero."

"One sketch," Jack said. He shuffled his feet, and I thought he was blushing. "Pen and ink. On the back of an envelope. A palm tree. I... ah... I fished it out of the trash basket one day. Sorry, Edgar. My bad."

"S'okay, but burn it," I said. "Maybe I'll be able to give you another one when all this is over." If it ever is, I thought but didn't add.

Jack nodded. "Okay. You want a ride back to Big Pink?"

"I'll stay here with Wireman," I said, "but I do want to go back to Big Pink first."

"Don't tell me," Jack said. "Jammies and a toothbrush."

"No," I said. "Picnic basket and those silver har-"

The telephone rang, and we all looked at each other. I think I knew right away that it was bad news; I felt that sinking as my stomach turned into an elevator. It rang again. I looked at Wireman, but Wireman just looked at me. He knew, too. I picked it up.

"It's me." Pam, heavy-voiced. "Brace yourself, Edgar."

When someone says something like that, you always try to fasten some kind of mental safety belt. But it rarely works. Most people don't have one.

"Spill it."