Page 72 of Troubles in Paradise
Her mouth is cottony; she’s still in her clothes. She brushes her teeth in the bathroom and applies her nighttime moisturizer. Her reflection in the mirror is unforgiving.You messed up.
The house is now dark and quiet. Irene grabs her pillow and blanket from the closet and heads to the sofa.
She needs to see Huck tomorrow, she thinks. She isn’t going to lose him to Vasco. Nope, sorry. She has lost too much already.
She wants to be waiting for Huck by theMississippiin the morning but there are the logistics of cars. Baker needs his Jeep to drop Floyd off at school and then get to work. Cash has to be atTreasure Islandby seven. If Irene had let Cash know the night before, he would have dropped her at the National Park Service dock first, but she can’t spring it on him now.
She says to Baker, “Is it okay if I borrow your Jeep after you pick up Floyd from school? I have errands.”
“No problem!” Baker says. He’s unusually chipper. He has made Floyd banana pancakes for breakfast. “Would you mind watching Floyd tonight? I have plans with Ayers.”
“Ayers?” Irene says. “What about Swan?”
“Swan?” Baker says as though he isn’t sure who Irene is talking about. “Oh, we’re just friends.”
Just friends. Maybe Huck and Vasco are just friends as well. Maybe Swan misunderstood the situation at Skinny Legs.Oh, please. Oh, please!Irene isn’t sure how she’s going to make it until three o’clock. She would text Huck right away but she knows he’s out on the boat. She’ll be waiting when he pulls back in. If, God forbid, Agent Vasco is also waiting for Huck on the dock, Irene will…push Vasco in.
I’m crazy,Irene thinks.Crazy about him and just plain crazy.
She sits by the pool with her captain’s-license study materials but she can’t concentrate on characteristics of weather systems or lifesaving equipment. She heads to the kitchen. She isn’t hungry, but what about a drink? The bottle of wine she opened with Swan is gone, but Irene has plenty of other bottles. What if she starts drinking now, at eleven o’clock in the morning, and shows up at the dock completely blotto?
This is so out of character, she’s tempted to try it.
She still has a few Ativan left. Should she take an Ativan?
I think maybe Huck got lucky! Go, Huck!
She hears a car in the driveway. Yes? No. Yes—a car doorslams. Did Baker come home for lunch? Irene goes to the front door and sees a black Jeep with tinted windows in the driveway and a small woman with a limp brown ponytail approaching. Probably she’s lost. Hikers come out this way looking for the start of the Reef Bay Trail coastal walk, but that’s up the hill.
“Can I help you?” Irene says.
“Irene Steele?” the woman says.
Irene blinks, looks again at the Jeep. Didn’t Huck say something about a black Jeep with tinted windows? Yes. He saw one loitering on Jacob’s Ladder.
“I’m sorry,” Irene says. “Do I know you?” The woman is wearing a plain white short-sleeved blouse and khaki capris. She has a pale, round face and brown eyes. FBI? Irene wonders. They’ve taken everything she has. If they ask for anything more, she’ll give them the Christmas ornaments.
“Irene.” The woman checks their surroundings as though she thinks they’re being watched. “May I come in? I need to speak to you confidentially.”
“About?”
“Your husband,” the woman says. “And Todd Croft.”
“Are you with the FBI?” Irene asks. “I’d like to see some ID.”
“I’m not with the FBI,” the woman says. She takes a step closer to the screen door and lowers her voice. “Irene, we’ve spoken on the phone. I’m Marilyn Monroe.”
Irene’s hand flies to her mouth. Marilyn Monroe was the person who called Irene on New Year’s Day to tell her Russ was dead. She was Todd Croft’s secretary, but it seemed like she’d dropped off the face of the earth.
She looksnothinglike the famous Marilyn Monroe. Under other circumstances, Irene might find this amusing.
Irene holds the door open, then locks both the screen and the solid wood door behind Marilyn. Turns the dead bolt.
“Yes,” Marilyn says, as though this is a necessary measure.
“Can I offer you anything—”
“We just need a quiet place to talk,” Marilyn says. She looks around the Happy Hibiscus. “He hasn’t gotten in here, so it’s safe.”
