Island of Secrets Read online

  “What about us?” I said, looking down at my hands. “I’m not invisible.”

  “Neither is Heavenly. Not technically. It simply appears invisible, along with everyone onboard. Trick of the light. When we slow down, it will appear again.”

  Ten minutes later we docked at the marina in Papeete. As we left Heavenly, my bandage disappeared. Just like everything else that was created on board. Casper rewrapped the sarong around my foot and insisted on carrying me to the nearest doctor. Very sweet of him, but totally embarrassing—not a good look for a kickass investigator.

  After taking a chair in the doctor’s waiting room, I told Casper he didn’t need to stay with me. I was only half serious and I was totally floored when he said, “Okay. I’ll meet you back at the marina.” He seemed happy—almost too happy—to leave.

  Half an hour of waiting to see a doctor isn’t so bad, even if you are bleeding to death. And have no cash on you. Luckily my client, the richest man in this part of the South Pacific, guaranteed to cover all medical expenses. After informing the doctor of that, things moved pretty fast.

  The doctor spoke limited English, but it was better than my nonexistent French. When I pulled the sarong off my toe, he got the message. A lot of stitches and a new bandage later, I was good to go.

  After leaving my bloodstained sarong in the doctor’s trash, I hobbled out of the surgery wearing only my swimsuit. A lack of clothing was the last thing on my mind. I was more concerned about whether my toe would still itch when I was in the presence of the paranormal. At that moment, I couldn’t feel a thing due to the local anesthetic.

  On the way to the marina I smelled coffee. The delicious aroma came from a place called Café Noir. Tables stood beneath bright umbrellas. People chatted over their drinks and pastries. I wished I could join them but since I didn’t have any money, I had to make do with inhaling all those yummy smells. I was standing there salivating when I noticed a stunning dark-haired woman. She had that petite elegance common to a lot of French women, but her coffee-colored skin hinted at an indigenous heritage. Her nose was straight, her lips full, and her cheekbones would’ve been welcome on a Paris catwalk. She was the kind of woman who should have been cherished, but there were ugly scratches on the nape of her neck and a plaster cast on her wrist. Thick makeup couldn’t conceal her black eye.

  She sat at an outside table drinking coffee with a golden-haired man. They leaned toward one another, so involved in conversation they were unaware of their surroundings. I didn’t recognize the woman, but I recognized the man. He was wearing a brand-new pair of board shorts, a Tahiti Rocks shirt and new sunglasses. At his feet was a shopping bag that contained what appeared to be a folded kilt.

  Why was Casper sitting with this injured woman? Had she been in an accident? Was he playing the Good Samaritan? But why had he taken time out to get new clothes? And more importantly, how had he gotten them, when angels didn’t carry money? Was she his mortal subject, like me? No, that was impossible. Angels only had one morsub at a time.

  The woman caught me looking at her. She said something to Casper. Before he could turn and accuse me of snooping, I ducked out of sight and made my way back to the marina.

  On the way, I remembered how happy Casper had been to leave me at the surgery. Had he planned to meet the woman? I hoped she wasn’t his girlfriend. Casper’s Rules of Conduct stated that he had to make amends for his barbaric life of raping and pillaging. In short, he wasn’t allowed to have sex. So far he’d done a good job of remaining celibate, but if he got involved with this gorgeous woman it could set his chances of entering Heaven back thousands of years. Unless… Suddenly I had a horrible thought. What if she was like the yacht—a consolation prize for missing out on an Angel Award? Not that I thought the Powers-That-Be had taken up pimping in their spare time, but maybe the no-sex rule had been relaxed for a while. If it had, and Casper had chosen someone other than me…

  I was furious. I’d have been happy to do the horizontal mambo with him any time he wanted, but I’d held myself back, which wasn’t easy, let me tell you. And now this woman looked set to undo all my good work. When I reached Heavenly, I gave the side of the vessel a good hard kick. Take that, Casper. Nearby someone laughed.

  The man wore light-colored shorts that emphasized his tan. Around his neck, a shell on a strip of leather drew my eyes to his broad chest. Looking lower I saw a hard, flat belly that indicated long-term gym membership. Black windswept hair and a stubbled jaw gave him the look of a pirate. In place of an eye patch, he wore designer sunglasses.

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Where’s your wooden leg and parrot, smartass?”

  He grinned, showing a chipped tooth. In an accent that reeked of New York, he said, “If you kick my yacht, I’ll put you over my knee and spank you.”

  “Yeah, just try it, buddy.”

  The man roared with laughter, making me feel like I’d come off second best. “You staying in Papeete?” he asked, moving a step closer.

  “Not your business.” The air between us felt charged. My heartbeat doubled. He held his ground, but didn’t move any closer.

  He said, “I’d like to make it my business.” Then he took off his sunglasses. His eyes were a brilliant blue—think tropical sea, sun diamonds, the whole works. He might have said something about taking me out on his own yacht, but my heart was thumping so hard, I couldn’t hear anything beyond the blood rushing through my veins.

  The first thing I heard clearly was, “Allegra, are you okay?” Casper strode toward us like a knight ready to defend my honor.

  “You took your sweet time,” I said.

  Before Casper could answer, the man with the shell around his neck gave me a dazzling smile and said, “I’ll see you ’round.”

  Casper watched him saunter to another yacht and climb aboard. “What did he want?”

  “A date,” I said, hoping to make Casper jealous and failing miserably. Angels don’t do jealousy. Changing tack, I asked, “Where did you get the new clothes?”

  “Someone purchased them for me.”

  “Someone?”

  A blush spread across his cheeks. Refusing to meet my eyes, he said, “It’s getting late. Let’s get back to Lu’arna.”

  I was mostly silent on the return journey thinking about the handsome pirate and regretting that I hadn’t been nicer to him. I should see other men. No matter what my deeper feelings for Casper, they couldn’t be acted upon. I was too young to waste my life on a dream. I had to get out there and date again.

  Chapter Two

  When Heavenly docked at Lu’arna Island, Casper offered to help me up the steep path to my guest cottage. I declined and eventually regretted it. Not that negotiating the path with an injured toe was all that difficult, but the stone steps were another matter. Occurring at regular intervals in sets of three or four, they made me grit my teeth and reach for nearby branches to keep my balance. I had almost reached the top when a fat lizard about six inches long darted in front of me. When I sidestepped to avoid squishing it, I lost my balance and tumbled down several steps. My pride was hurt worse than my ass, but a man in gardening clothes rushed to help me.

  He appeared to be in his early forties, lean and leathery from working outdoors. He smelled of earth and manure.

  “Is not good to get drunk in this heat,” he said, in the local accent.

  “I’m not drunk. There was a lizard and—”

  “There is much wildlife here,” he said, helping me up despite my protests. “The lizards will not hurt you.”

  As if I’d be scared of a lizard. I was tempted to tell him about the fire-breathing dragon I’d defeated, but sometimes it’s best not to boast. Besides, he was already introducing himself. “Vincent, the gardener.”

  “Allegra, the para—” I broke off. Probably best not to tell him my profession. Some clients, includi
ng Mr. Forrest, didn’t like anyone to know they’d hired me. I began again. “I’m Allegra, the guest of Mr. Forrest.”

  “Welcome to Lu’arna. I’d shake your hand, but…” He looked at his soil-encrusted skin. He seemed to forget, he’d already put those same dirty hands on my waist to help me up. Not that I cared.

  I shrugged. “It’s just dirt.” Mixed with a bit of manure, but trust me, shaking his hand was much better than touching the skin of a dung heap troll.

  He smiled as though he approved of me. “I help you to your cottage?”

  “Well, okay.” Since we’d bonded and all. “You worked here long?” I asked as I limped up the steps beside him.

  “I design the garden. This is my—what do you say?—dream job. I am blessed. Therese, my wife, she work here too. We have our own guest cottage.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  He grinned. “This is paradise, no?”

  “Except for the feral coral.”

  “That is how you hurt your foot? Well, perhaps paradise is not perfect.” Then he smiled. “But it is pretty fricking close.”

  “Yeah.” I slapped a mosquito.

  A few more steps brought us to the door of my cottage. I didn’t like leaving it unlocked, but Noreen, the plump, fiftysomething housekeeper, had assured me that no one locked their doors. Thankfully, you could bolt it from the inside. Apparently, even on Lu’arna, they didn’t like people walking in while they were showering or making love or whatever.

  As I turned back to thank Vincent for helping me, he bowed low. Not at me, at Noreen, who was moving down the path toward us. He winked at me and explained, “Noreen has discovered she is related to Queen Victoria.”

  “Oh, enough of that.” Noreen flapped her hand at him. “I’m not here to talk genealogy. We’re only distantly related anyway.”

  I’d seen pictures of Queen Victoria and there was a definite resemblance especially around the jowls and waistline. But Noreen had the laugh lines to prove she was amused more often than her regal ancestor. She’d also been born in New Zealand, if her accent was anything to go by.

  “I came here to check on Allegra,” she said to Vincent. Turning to me, she touched my arm. “I’m so sorry about your injury. Mr. Forrest has instructed me to take care of all the bills, and the doctor said I could give you these painkillers. We always keep a supply of basic medicines on the island.” She handed me a pack of tablets. “Will you be well enough to dine with the others or would you prefer a tray brought here?”

  “I’ll eat with the others, but I’d prefer to speak with Mr. Forrest before dinner. In private.”

  “He’s gone to Tahiti Faa’a Airport with Kristiana, who’s off to work in Paris. I’ll let you know when he returns. Now, is everything satisfactory? Is there anything else you need?”

  Gee, and I wasn’t even a proper guest. Technically I was just the hired help. After due consideration, I decided I could just about make do with the maxi-bar, the king-sized bed with its dozens of pillows and the spa bath with a view of the Pacific Ocean.

  After telling me dinner would be at seven o’clock, Noreen left and I stretched out on the bed resting my injured foot on a fat pillow. The pain pills kicked in and numbness spread through my body. The last thing I saw before my eyes closed was a view of sparkling ocean beneath an azure sky.

  I startled awake. Someone was hammering on my door.

  “Are you alright in there?” called Noreen. “Hello? Allegra?”

  Oh crap, was I late for dinner? I checked the clock. Nope, it was only six. I stumbled out of bed and limped to the door. As I opened it, I said, “Sorry, I took the painkillers and fell asleep.”

  “Mr. Forrest is waiting for you.”

  “Oh right,” I said, stepping outside.

  She cast a discreet glance at my body. “Maybe you’d like to change first.”

  I realized I was still wearing my swimsuit. Hobbling back inside, I told Noreen to wait in the living room, while I put on the floaty floral dress my sister, Lily, had bought me. Lily and I were pretty much opposites in everything, and that included our taste in clothes. I preferred jeans, shorts, T-shirts and flat heels. She liked high fashion so long as it was feminine. Top of her wish list was giving me a makeover. The closest she’d got was buying me the floaty floral dress, which I had to admit was perfect for dinner in the tropics, although Lily would have been horrified to see me teaming it with flip-flops. Too bad. They were the only footwear I could tolerate without groaning in pain. When I was more or less presentable, I followed Noreen to Mr. Forrest’s office.

  He flicked off his computer screen like he had a guilty secret and stood up, revealing that he was shorter than me by several inches. Despite the lack of height, he was fit, as though he spent a lot of time swimming laps in his Olympic-sized pool. Brown hair brushed his shoulders, curling around a thin face dominated by intelligent eyes and red-framed glasses. At twenty-six, he was only a year older than me, which is unfairly young to be a billionaire. Thank the internet for that one. He’d sold his social network site for squillions, bought Lu’arna Island and built his dream home.

  “All is not well in paradise,” he said, and he wasn’t talking about the departure of Kristiana or my injured toe.

  He was referring to a problem in the ocean surrounding the island. Not sharks or coral…although he definitely should have mentioned the sharks. His problem concerned mers—mermaids and mermen. Not that he wanted me to get rid of them. He enjoyed seeing the “totally hot” mermaids sunning themselves on the rocks, but he didn’t much like mers of either sex washing ashore with fatal arrow wounds. He had a theory that the mers were being hunted. He wanted me to find out who was responsible and stop the killing. Since I like mers, I’d accepted. Okay, that wasn’t the only reason. Working on a tropical island had its charms. The deal was sealed when he offered to pay double my usual fee. I hoped he wouldn’t renege now that I was injured and unable to work at my usual pace.

  Accepting the chair he offered, I said, “I believe you have something to show me, Mr. Forrest.”

  “Call me Oak please.” Oak Forrest. I already knew that was his name. I’d done my research, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t tempted to make a lame joke. He went on, “Blame my mother for the name. She was kind of a hippie. I thought of changing it but hey, I can live with the jokes. Thanks for not making any, by the way.”

  “Never even occurred to me.”

  He quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. Oops—busted.

  Moving right along, he pointed at my bandaged foot. “From now on, don’t swim in the ocean. There are pools you can use when your toe is better. If you need a few days’ rest before beginning your investigation, hey, consider my place a holiday resort.”

  Wow, my kind of client. I tried to look professional rather than gobsmacked. “Tempting though that is, I’d like to start right away. Can I see the body now?”

  “Before dinner?”

  “Sure.” I’d seen dead bodies before. They didn’t usually make me puke.

  “It’s in the deep freeze.” I followed him through spacious tiled living areas with views to die for. We had turned down a hall and were heading for a room at the back of the house, when the sound of female voices intruded.

  Oak stopped and about-faced. “My aunts. They’re both in their sixties and can’t handle shocks. Keep quiet about the body. I’ll show it to you later.”

  “Okay,” I said, although I didn’t share Oak’s opinion about his aunts’ delicate constitutions. Lyn was the taller of the two. Sharp-eyed and thin lipped, she looked like the schoolteacher from hell until she smiled with genuine warmth and a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

  Evie might look soft, with plump cheeks and a curvy figure, but her jawline was strong. She was the kind of motherly woman who’d fight for her offspring and win.

  “We�
�ve been looking for you everywhere, Oak honey,” she said. “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

  Oak introduced us. Evie was from the maternal side of his family, Lyn from the paternal, so they weren’t related to each other by blood. They’d met at family get-togethers and, despite their differences, had become firm friends.

  Evie hugged me, enveloping me in a cloud of Chanel No 5. “Lovely to meet you, Allegra.”

  Lyn coolly shook my hand and shot Oak a glance, “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

  “I’m still with Kristiana. Allegra is here to help with a special project.”

  “How exciting,” said Evie.

  “What special project?” asked Lyn.

  They looked at me, eager for an explanation. Since Oak had specifically asked me not to mention the paranormal, I wasn’t sure what to say.

  I glanced at him, hoping for assistance, but he was gazing absentmindedly at the view through the window. Maybe he was thinking of Kristiana. “Oak?” I prompted.

  He blinked and tuned back in to reality. “Allegra’s advising me on a building project.”

  Great. My knowledge of building was thinner than a stick fairy.

  “Are you designing a golf course?” guessed Evie.

  I held a finger to my lips. “It’s a secret.”

  “How thrilling. I love secrets.” Evie bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

  “Take it easy, Sherlock, we’re not going to spend our vacation ferreting out Allegra’s secret occupation.”

  Oak stopped short of rolling his eyes. Shepherding his aunts outside, he said, “Time for dinner. Don’t want to keep Polly waiting.”

  Our table was set with a plain cloth, but there was nothing plain about the red bougainvillea that hung from the pergola like tiny paper lanterns. In the nearby garden, lights glowed among the exotic plants, reflecting off the glistening surface of the swimming pool.

  The aunts claimed chairs that offered the best view of the moonlit ocean. When their glasses were full they toasted life with chilled white wine and a hint of sadness.