Island Blues by Wendy Howell Mills Page B

on sitting upright, dipping her paddle in by her toes and bringing it up again by her hip, and using her torso, not her arms, to bear the brunt of the strokes. Oh, and staying afloat, that took a good bit of her attention as well. The waves were minute, but they still presented a challenge to her novice sense of balance, and paddling smoothly was a bigger challenge than she had expected. But soon she fell into a comfortable rhythm and began to enjoy herself.
    â€œHow are you doing?” Patti slowed to allow Sabrina to come up alongside her.
    â€œI think I’m getting the hang of it. You’re right, it’s easy once you get used to it.”
    â€œI’ve been coming out here every night since we arrived to watch the sun set. Isn’t it glorious?”
    She was right. Glorious. The sky was a neon display of orange clouds touched with the dark shadows of the disappearing light, and the pinks and yellows of an Easter egg hunt. The water reflected back all that glory in softer tones, no less spectacular for being muted by the quicksilver shimmer of the waves.
    They were close to a small hummock of an island, all white sand and waving green grass and bushes, and thick trees huddled in the center. Several birds circled above, and a large nest dominated one of the pine trees.
    â€œThat’s Goat Island, where Gilbert…died. I looked it up on the map in the bar when Michael told us last night we would be coming here for our sessions. Of course, after what happened to Gilbert, they’re planning to take us to another island tomorrow morning.”
    â€œBut it’s so close!” Sabrina looked back over her shoulder at the massive bulk of Comico Island, and the slender umbilical of the causeway that linked Shell Island to its mother island. They had only been paddling for twenty minutes, and Sabrina could still see the Shell Lodge perched high up on the hill, its white shells reflecting sunlight like a fiery opal.
    An experienced kayaker could be here in less than twenty minutes. A motor boat could be here in much less. Despite the isolated feel to Goat Island, it had not been far enough away to stop a determined killer.
    â€œSophie and I were at this very spot last night about the time the police say Gilbert died.” Patti appeared shaken by the thought she had been so close to a murder.
    â€œThat’s awful!” Sabrina dipped a paddle in the water, watching the small pastel galaxies radiating out into nothingness. “I don’t suppose you saw anything?”
    â€œSophie told the police she saw another kayak coming around the back of Goat Island, but I didn’t see it.”
    â€œYou seem pretty close to Sophie. How long have you known her?”
    Patti smiled and adjusted her paddle across the front of her kayak with a faint clunking sound that seemed to travel far across the darkening water. “Girlfriend, I hear what you’re not saying. I know we make an odd pair, and it’s hard for me to believe I just met her a couple of days ago. But that little girl needs someone to look after her, even if she is a big-shot model. She must’ve always looked like that, so pretty you want to blink twice to make sure you’re really seeing her right. I think people do things for her because of the way she looks. But people don’t really care about her, you know what I’m saying? She might be on the cover of magazines, but no one really gives a damn about what she thinks or feels. That little act she puts on, she does it because that’s what people expect from her. Underneath, she’s in a lot of pain and scared to death.”
    Sabrina was silent for a moment, watching the crimson sun slip beneath the surface, leaving a sanguinary pool in its wake. “I imagine you have quite a few stray animals at home.”
    â€œYou have no idea!” Patti laughed her luscious, opulent laugh. With that type of laugh, a person could survive on humor