The Island of Dangerous Dreams by Joan Lowery Nixon

Author:Joan Lowery Nixon
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780307823441
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2013-09-24T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

9

“But my Aunt Madelyn knows him,” I said.

“I bet she didn’t know him in Miami,” Pete said. “Bartley used to work there, and he did a couple of investigative jobs for my father. I recognized him.”

“Why would he use another name?”

“Private investigators use aliases all the time. Fake jobs, fake business cards, you name it—fake. Maybe he used the name of Kurt Whatever when he worked jobs for the judge so people wouldn’t find out he’s a PI. A secretary stays in the background, right? Nobody wonders about a secretary.”

I thought about it a minute. Pete was probably right. “Do you want to come to the house and see if Ellison can find the wire you need to fix your boat?” I asked him.

“Not with the judge and the muscleman there,” he said.

Of course. He didn’t know. So I filled him in on everything that had happened. Well, not exactly everything, because I didn’t tell him that I had taken the artifact.

When I finished he let out a long, low whistle. “No wonder you want to get off this island,” he said. “I’m with you. How good are you at the dog paddle?”

I must have looked awfully discouraged, because Pete took my hand and said, “Come on. I’ll cheer you up. I’ll show you my boat.”

He led me along a natural path among the trees, and I could see that the woods were crisscrossed with these grassy open strips and spots. In some places we had to push away branches or vines, but the going wasn’t difficult. The island was narrower than I thought, so it didn’t take us long to reach the small cove where Pete’s boat was anchored.

It was a beautiful little boat, about twenty-five feet long, with a tiny cabin. Pete waded to one side of the boat. The water was about hip deep where he stood. “If you don’t mind getting wet, you can come aboard. But keep your shoes on. There are some spiny things just under the water here that you shouldn’t step on with bare feet.”

I didn’t mind getting wet. I was curious. I followed him up the aluminum ladder to the deck.

“The wheel’s out here,” Pete said, “but take a look below. That’s where I live.”

I leaned in to see a tiny cabin that was laid out with a padded bench on one side, a table over a compact ice chest, stove, and sink on the other side. “Tucked up in the bow is my bed,” Pete said, “and beyond the door at the side is the head. Would you like something to eat?” He jumped down into the cabin, opened the nearest cupboard, and pulled out some packages of Twinkies. I climbed down the short flight of steps and sat on the padded bench.

“Do you cook?” I asked.

“Sure. Anything that comes in a can. I’m self-sufficient.”

He sat next to me. We split a package of Twinkies and drank some warm cola. “Ice melted,” Pete explained.

“You are in a bad way,” I told him.

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