The bridge to Lantern Island shone like polished coral in the sunlight. Wayne felt his mouth turning dry. There was no reason for it. But he could not control his response. He watched Tatyana lower her window and give her name to the security guard, then point to the truck pulling in behind her and saying they were with her also. The guard picked up his phone and dialed, leaning over as he did so and glancing into the car. Wayne’s gut tightened.
Tatyana accepted the day pass, rolled up her window, then noticed his reaction. “What’s the matter?”
He was about to say, Nothing. He had never thought of it as his normal response before, but that’s what it was. Offering the outside world a standard denial. Pretending he wasn’t touched by a thing.
“Wayne?”
He touched his lips with his tongue. No longer. Not with her. Not as long as she let him. He said, “This is the first time I’ve ever done this legit.”
A car behind the truck popped his horn. Tatyana put the car into gear and moved forward. “Done what?”
“Come to Lantern Island.” He pointed to his right. “There’s your turn.”
“I don’t understand. You’ve been here before?”
“Too many times. My ex-wife lives down at the island’s other end. She married a doctor.” The place looked remarkably different in the light of day. Besides which, he had not been to the island’s north end. Until now, he had had no reason. The lots were even bigger here than in the south, the homes almost completely hidden behind banks of blooming oleander and walls given over to ivy and wisteria.
Wayne felt her eyes and faced her. Waiting for the question. But whatever she saw was enough for her to turn back to the road.
The Neally residence was what Wayne had come to think of as typical Florida rich. Stucco exterior painted off-gold. Oversized windows. Clay-tile roof. Pillars around the front entrance and side porch. More pillars visible through the front door’s etched glass.
Tatyana rang the doorbell. The house interior echoed with four big chimes. Jerry glanced back to where Julio sat in the truck, watching them. “This here is some serious strangeness.”
Tatyana said, “You know about Wayne having been here before?”
“Done one trip with him. Came in to extract the scam artist and his cash.” Jerry examined Wayne more closely. “You okay with this?”
Wayne touched his lips again. Wondering the same thing himself.
“Why didn’t you say something before we got here?” Tatyana asked. “We could’ve handled this one on our own.”
Wayne heard footsteps echo toward them. “Foster’s still out there.”
A maid in a monochrome uniform and a face trained to show nothing answered the door. Tatyana spoke to her in Spanish. Wayne recognized only Tatyana’s last name. He made a mental note to ask how many other languages the lady spoke.
The maid stepped back with the door. Her stare was blank. She did not speak. She merely pointed toward the rear of the house, shut the door after them, and departed. Wayne tasted the air.
Jerry noticed it too. “This place don’t smell right.”
The maid’s footsteps pattered softly into the tiled distance. The house had an empty feel.
Tatyana looked from one man to the other. “What’s the matter?”
Wayne said, “Go find the maid, see if she’ll tell you anything.”
Jerry motioned with his chin. “Take a look at our guy.”
At the rear of the house, glass doors opened onto a large pool area. A man was seated partly protected from the sunlight by a big square umbrella. A glass of something that sweated sat by his hand. The sun had shifted while he sat, so that the man now rested half in and half out of the sunlight. Neither the sunlight nor the doorbell had shifted him. Jerry said, “Something is seriously wrong here.”
“Try the maid,” Wayne repeated.
He and Jerry started toward the rear of the house. The living room was basically an extension of the front hall, given a mock separation by a large frame around the entryway and three marble steps down to a divider of some expensive looking wood, maybe cherry. The fireplace to Wayne’s right was carved from the same wood and rose in inlaid waves the entire twenty feet or so to the ceiling. The rear of the house was one long series of glass French doors. The furniture outside was an all-weather match to the same ivory tones used for the living room. Everything very tasteful and feminine.
Jerry said, “You know the good-cop, bad-cop thing?”
Wayne pointed at the living room’s coffee table. A Cosmo magazine and a People sat next to an empty vase. “The magazines are from last month.”
“Pay attention here.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing. This place is shouting feminine, and there’s not a woman in sight.”
“Yeah, so listen to what I’m telling you. I won’t say a thing out here unless you give me the signal. Just pull on your ear and I’ll be all over the guy.”
Wayne opened the middle French doors. “Mr. Neally?”
The man did not rise. “I was told to expect Grey’s attorney,” he said. “What’s her name. Kuchik.”
Wayne crossed the blinding white pool deck. “We’re her associates.”
“There’s nothing I can tell you.”
He was in his midfifties and had enough paunch to hide his belt. But he still looked like a little boy. Inflated cheeks, rosy lips, wispy moustache. The legs emerging from his shorts showed no definition whatsoever and were red in the manner of someone who did not tan easily. He wore a tan knit shirt with crossed golf clubs and the island’s name on the crest. Wayne took it slow, picking up a chair and drawing it to where he could sit sheltered beneath the umbrella. “The sun’s so hot, Mr. Neally. Why don’t you scoot over a bit.”
“I was just going inside.”
“Sure. Listen. We have just a couple of questions and—”
“Why is your buddy standing up like that?”
“We’ve been sitting all the way from Orlando. We made the trip just so we—”
“Tell him to move over where I can see him. I don’t like people hovering.”
Jerry stepped across to where an overhang protected an outdoor grill and steel-fronted fridge. He moved deeper into the shadows and effectively vanished. Wayne said, “I need to ask you—”
“There’s nothing I can say that will be of any help. I told Easton the same thing. I received an unsigned memo requesting my attendance at a disciplinary board hearing. I did not know it was about Kuchik until I got there. End of story.”
To his left, the pool glistened a perfect blue. A motorized vacuum robot scoured the pool floor, snaking a long accordion hose out behind. A hummingbird flitted down in a lightning stroke of rose and gold, drank from the pool, and vanished. The air held an edgy metallic flavor only a real-time combatant ever tasted. Wayne felt the entire day was etched with acidic clarity.
The man was not speaking to him.
He did not know why he felt that. But his gut was working overtime. All he knew for certain was he needed to keep the guy talking.
“We’re way beyond that, Mr. Neally. We wanted to talk with you about Cloister.”
The man had been still before. Now he froze. “What?”
The paper in his lap was the Wall Street Journal. Wayne read the date upside down. The paper was from the previous weekend. Only three or four of the crossword’s spaces had been filled in. “Cloister. You’re a member of their new US subsidiary’s board of directors, aren’t you?”
“I can’t talk about that.”
“We can wait until Tatyana comes out if you like.”
“Bring whoever you like. It won’t make any difference.” The guy’s voice was very loud for carrying to someone seated next to him. Each word came out separated, as though he were reading a speech to an oversized crowd. “Cloister is involved in a wide variety of confidential projects.”
“We’re only interested in the partnerships with Triton.”
“I don’t care what you’re interested in.” The pudgy fingers deliberately tore off a strip from the corner of the newspaper. “I am unable to answer any questions about Cloister or Triton or anything else.”
“Where is your family, Mr. Neally?”
“That’s none of your concern.” Trace Neally balled up the slip of paper, then used both arms of the chair to push himself to his feet. The rest of the newspaper slid unnoticed onto the deck. “I told Easton this was a mistake. Now you really must leave.”
Jerry emerged from the shadows. But before Jerry could give voice to the bellow building in his face, Wayne jerked his head. Back and forth very swiftly. Jerry subsided.
Wayne followed Neally back across the blinding deck and into the living room’s cool shadows. There Neally offered Wayne his hand. “I’m sorry you made this trip for nothing.”
Tatyana emerged from the back of the house. Again Wayne shook his head before her question could be fully formed. They gathered at the front door and let themselves out. Wayne led them back down the sidewalk. Jerry signaled to Julio that he would be just a minute and the three climbed into Tatyana’s car. She started the motor and turned the AC on high.
Tatyana said, “The maid is terrified. She said the family is on vacation. And claimed that everything was fine. But all the while, she kept making these little gestures, like she was pointing at the ceiling with her eyes.”
“Like she was being watched,” Jerry said.
Wayne unfolded the balled slip of newspaper. He showed it to Tatyana, then Jerry.
On it were written two words.
Help me.