“Jesus, it’s raining,” said Shane, grabbing his surfboard. “I’m taking off. See you later. Call me anytime.”
Shane grabbed his surfboard and took off as Cindy sat there a moment in the warm rain. It felt good, cleansing. She thought about the things Shane had said about Tiffany. Were they true or was he just covering himself, trying to wiggle out of a bad situation? No matter what, Cindy couldn’t help wondering how Tiffany would react if she’d heard what he said. It was futile for Cindy to feel badly though, there was no way Tiffany could know what Shane said about her. She was gone forever from this world, couldn’t be hurt by anything anymore. That was a huge relief to Cindy, who felt that Tiffany, unknowingly, had been caught in a terrible snare.
As she sat musing in the rain, to Cindy’s surprise, her phone rang.
“Cindy?” the voice on the other phone was soothing.
“Yes?”
“It’s Wynn, Tiffany’s sister. Where are you?”
“At the surfer’s beach,” said Cindy.
“Okay, that’s good. I just wanted to ask you if you’d like to join me and Rori and one of Tiffany’s friends in town tomorrow morning? We’re going stir crazy here on the boat and are planning to go in for a few hours.”
“That would be perfect,” said Cindy. “Where can we meet?”
“Meet us in the middle of town, at Robes café at eleven. We’ll take it from there. We all want to meet you and hear what you’ve found.”
“I want to meet you too,” said Cindy.
Wynn sighed a deep sigh of relief.
“Is there something else?” asked Cindy suspicious.
“My mother is melting down,” said Wynn. “She’s saying all kinds of crazy things, having dreams about Tiffany. She insists she sees her on the boat walking around. It’s terrifying.”
“You need to call a doctor,” said Cindy.
“We can’t,” said Wynn. “She’s done this kind of thing before. We have to keep it quiet. My dad’s reputation is at stake.”
CHAPTER 9
Petrovich’s party was tonight and Mattheus took great care dressing for it. He’d brought a couple of evening outfits, including a tux. Now he put on a custom silk sports jacket with matching slacks and deep blue shirt. Then ordered a taxi to take him to Petrovich’s villa. No doubt he’d be drinking, and didn’t want to drive back late on the winding roads. The night would be important, he felt it in his bones.
The taxi drove up to the lavish villa, which rose above the ocean and was hidden behind rows of trees. As they approached a private, Russian security guard stopped them to check and see if Mattheus was on the guest list. Once he got clearance the taxi drove through two huge double iron gates to the main entranceway.
Mattheus was impressed by the private security forces.
“Some operation this guy has,” he said to the driver.
“The party never ends here,” the guy mumbled. “We bring people back and forth all the time.”
“He’s got his own security forces too,” said Mattheus. “Guess this guy has a lot to protect.”
The taxi driver, an older, local man, turned and looked at Mattheus.
“Petrovich runs his own little kingdom,” he said. “We’re the ones who have to protect ourselves from him.”
“How so?” asked Mattheus, alert.
The driver shrugged. “These guys are eating up the island alive,” he said, “buying up all the land for millions and millions, building, building, ruining the character of the place.”
“Sorry about that,” Mattheus said.
“Sorry won’t get us anywhere,” the driver said. “We need real muscle down here to stop them.”
“Are you getting it?” Mattheus asked.
“That’s for you to find out.”
Mattheus felt the struggle that was going on here beneath the surface. He got out, tipped the guy well, straightened his jacket and walked in through the open doors.
*
The place was vast, winding and beautiful and the party was in full swing. The rooms were bursting with incredibly beautiful people, dressed in fabulous, designer silks and satins with flashing jewels, perfectly groomed, totally indulged. A huge Christmas tree stood in the center of the main hallway decorated to the hilt with colorful ornaments and angels. In the room to the left was music, laughter, excitement. Tables with food were spread along the back walls. The room was crowded with people meeting, eating and talking to each amidst the clinking of glass.
A full bar stretched out in another room. Behind it was a huge, open deck. On it was a Jacuzzi, half full, with guests inside, drinking.
Mattheus didn’t know where to turn first. As he was about to go to the bar, a tall, dark haired young man, tapped him on the shoulder.
“Mattheus?” he asked in what sounded like a thick, Russian accent.
“Yes,” Mattheus answered, surprised.
“We received word that you had arrived from up front,” the young man said.
Mattheus was impressed with the tight operation.