“I’ve told you, Dimity,” I said patiently. “The islanders don’t want to share what they have. They don’t want crowds of newcomers to move in and spoil their beautiful island.”
You’re laboring under a misapprehension, my dear.The islanders could build a covered bridge to the mainland and they still wouldn’t attract crowds of permanent, full-time residents. Erinskil may seem like paradise at the moment, but its winters are brutal.The days are short, the nights are long, and the gales are nothing less than ferocious. It takes a special breed to endure such trying conditions for months on end. I’m sorry, Lori, but I can’t imagine rows of condominiums springing up on Erinskil, despite its fine school and modern medical facilities. One winter would be enough to send the vast majority of newcomers packing.
“But you can’t agree with Cassie,” I protested. “She’s being cynical and jaded, and you’re neither.”
One needn’t be cynical or jaded to accept Cassie’s explanation as the more likely of the two. One may simply be logical. I’ll grant that such a community-wide conspiracy would be difficult to maintain in a place like Finch, but we’re not dealing with Finch. As Peter pointed out, smuggling is a traditional pastime in the islands. It’s reasonable to assume that the islanders, unlike your neighbors, are good at keeping secrets.
“How admirable of them,” I muttered, but Dimity took no notice.
Furthermore, a drug-smuggling operation, using Cieran’s Chapel as a transfer point, would account for the mysterious lights you, Peter, and Cassie witnessed, as well as for the islanders’ zealous efforts to keep strangers away. Finally, I can think of no other commodity that would bring in enough supplementary income to pay for the luxuries you’ve described.
“But it’s so . . . unpleasant,” I murmured dejectedly.
If only we could build a wall to keep unpleasant things at bay. . . . We’d have to keep rebuilding it, of course, because unpleasant things have a way of chipping through brick and mortar. I agree with you, Lori, of course I do, though I would put it a good deal more strongly.The drug trade is immoral, corrupt, murderous, and altogether evil, and I hope most sincerely that Cassie is mistaken.What does Damian think of her allegations?
“Search me,” I said with a shrug. “He didn’t sneer at them, but he didn’t stand up and salute them either. He didn’t say much of anything about it.”
A pity. I’d be very interested to know his thoughts on the matter. Damian is a man of the world, after all—a man of the underworld, one might say, considering his profession. I’d value his opinion. Perhaps you could ask him tomorrow.
“I’ll ask,” I said, “but I can’t guarantee that he’ll answer. Damian’s as tight-lipped as an unshucked oyster, Dimity. I’ll be lucky if he—” I gasped and looked up from the journal. The lights in the suite had gone out all at once, as if someone had flipped a master switch. “Dimity? I think we’ve had another power failure. Do you mind if I leave you for the moment?”
Not at all. Run along and find Damian. He’ll know what’s going on.
I closed the journal and placed it on the ottoman. The bedroom wasn’t as dark as the dining room had been the last time the power had failed, but it was almost as spooky. The firelight created a host of queer, quivering shadows, and the moonlight streaming through the arched windows gave a cold, blue edge to the darkness. I rose from the armchair and made my way into the sitting room, pausing there to take the poker from its stand.
The foyer door opened a crack, and I raised the poker. Damian put his head into the sitting room, saw me, and stepped inside.
“No need to panic,” he said. “It’s a castlewide outage. Mrs. Gammidge is taking care of the problem as we speak.”
“Good,” I said, releasing a pent breath. “That’s good.”
Damian came forward and gently removed the poker from my grasp. “I approve of the sentiment, Lori, but it would be better if you left the heavy work to me. I’m sorry you were frightened.”
I ducked my head ruefully, remembering my pitiful reaction to the previous power failure. “You must think I’m a big baby.”
“Babies don’t usually defend themselves with pokers,” Damian pointed out.
“Nor do I,” I admitted. “I just picked it up because it’s the sort of thing people do in movies. I don’t think I could actually hit anyone with it.”
“You can’t know what you’re capable of, until you’re put to the test.” Damian regarded me gravely. “I hope you never have to find out.”
“Me, too.” I glanced back into the bedroom and caught sight of the nearly full moon’s reflection in the gilt-framed mirror—it looked like a pale, misshapen face peering out of a dark shroud. I gulped and sidled a step closer to my bodyguard. “What happens to the alarm system when the electricity quits?”