Rebel Island Page 0,12

surprised me. I expected hysterics, but she sounded calm and alert.

"That's possible," I admitted.

"But..." She looked around, like she was afraid to say more. "That can't be it."

"The young lady is right," Mr. Lindy said. "It doesn't make sense. Why would a marshal escort a prisoner here? Rebel Island isn't on the way to anywhere."

"I'd like to understand that, too," I said. "Did any of you see the marshal when he arrived? Was he with anyone?"

No one answered.

Jose and the maid shook their heads.

The redheaded college kid cleared his throat. "So let me get this straight. You're telling us there's, like, an escaped fugitive on the island."

Alex was silently pleading with me to tone it down, to avoid further panic in his hotel.

"That," I said, "is a distinct possibility. At any rate, whoever shot Longoria is stuck on this island until the storm passes, and we have no way to contact the mainland."

"That's whacked," declared the college kid, which I thought covered the situation pretty well.

"Has anyone seen Chris?" I asked. "Chris - What's his last name?"

"Stowall," Alex answered miserably. "Chris Stowall."

"The manager?" Mr. Lindy asked.

"Yeah," the college guy said. "That freak who told us to turn down our music."

"We need to find him," I said. "He checked Longoria in. He may have some answers. Who saw him last?"

The blond lady developed a sudden interest in her pillowcase.

"We'll find him," the college guy said. "Beats sitting here."

"Don't go anywhere alone," I said. "And don't try to go outside."

"Yes, mother." The guy nodded to his friends and they headed off. The shaggy-haired Latino kid looked a little nervous about it, but the big bald dude put a hand on his back and kept him moving.

Mr. Lindy spread his arms across the couch. "So, Mr. Navarre. What do you suggest we do now?"

"Stay in here, together, as much as possible. If anyone has to go somewhere, go with someone else."

"Hell, little bro, we don't need bathroom buddies," Garrett grumbled. "We're grown-ups."

It was the first time I'd ever heard my brother claim to be a grown-up, which in itself was pretty disturbing.

"The killer has no place to go," I told him. "At least not until the storm passes. Cornered people tend to be desperate."

The maid raised her hand. "Senor, where could this man hide? It is a big house, but - "

"We could search it," Alex suggested, a glimmer of new hope in his eyes. "Me and the staff. I bet we won't find anybody. Then we can all rest easier."

I thought about that. I didn't like the idea of more people roaming around the hotel. Then again, I didn't like the idea of spending the night in the parlor, either.

"All right," I told Alex. "Why don't you and your staff, Jose and - "

"Imelda," the maid provided.

"Imelda," I said. "Why don't the three of you search. Alex, you have any kind of weapon?"

"Here," Lindy said, and offered his .45.

Alex didn't look too happy about it, but he took the gun.

"You know how to use that, son?" Lindy asked.

Alex nodded. "I was in the army, but..."

Whatever he was thinking, he didn't say it. He nodded at Jose and Imelda, who followed him out.

"Well, ain't this cozy?" Garrett winked at the blond lady. "You mind being my bathroom buddy, darling?"

The blond lady squeezed her eyes shut, like she was hoping we'd all disappear. When we didn't, she grabbed her pillow and ran out of the room.

Garrett's smile dissolved. "Aw, hell, I didn't mean - "

"I'll go after her," Maia said.

"No," I said. "I'll do it."

Maia raised her eyebrows.

"Please," I said. "Just...I'd rather you and Garrett stay where it's safe."

Maia muttered something in Chinese, probably a curse on her overprotective husband. "Fine. If I start labor, I'll just have Garrett help me out."

"Now wait a minute, sister," Garrett protested.

I was about to go search for the blond lady when Mr. Lindy said, "Mr. Navarre?"

"Sir?" The sir came automatically - South Texas breeding. Something about the old man brought it out in me.

"You failed to mention the most obvious place for this murderer to hide," he said. His eyes were frosty blue. "Right here. As one of the guests. How do we know it's not one of us?"

The blond lady was sitting in the empty dining room.

A row of five tables with white linen cloths ran down the middle of the room. In the dark, they reminded me of gurneys in a morgue. Damaged windows were covered with tarps and hastily hammered boards, but rain leaked