Second Chance Gold (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 4) by John Cunningham (tohfa e dulha read online TXT) 📗

was possible.” She glanced back toward me. “So that is what you are after? Treasure?”

This was a minefield. I’d have to tiptoe.

“That’s not why I’m here,” I said. “But somehow Remy’s past has come back to haunt us, which has been the cause for at least two people being brutally beaten.” I caught her eyes for a moment. “I want to make sure nobody else is hurt, and I need to see if there’s more to Jerry’s disappearance than meets the eye.”

Nicole crossed her arms. We pulled up to the stop sign at the small traffic circle on the coastal road at the far end of St. Jean. To the right was my hotel in Lorient, where I hoped Truck was resting comfortably. I turned left, drove through St. Jean, and turned into the parking lot at Eden Rock.

“Why are you stopping here?” she said.

“To take you down memory lane.”

The valet parked the Jeep and we walked toward the beach, past the beautifully restored wood dinghy that hung from a davit. We paused at the bar to look out over the beach.

“The same view but a different world.” She chuckled. “When we were young, we had the run of this beach—until my grandfather would catch us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was a very hard man. Visionary yes, adventurous yes, but also rigid. He did not like us interrupting the solitude he sought to provide here. But now—” She spread her arms wide. “There is nowhere to run anyway. Even the beach is filled with chairs.”

Indeed, every inch of the rock outcropping that was the foundation for Eden Rock was covered with stone walls, restaurants, offices, foot paths, and individual suites, piled high like a red-roofed house of cards.

“Come on,” I said. “I want to show you something.”

We climbed halfway up the stairs, past the restaurant to the top where the patio overlooked the bay of St. Jean.

Nicole hesitated. “I do not want to go all the way up.”

I wasn’t surprised. But we were going to the top.

She squinted, then jabbed her finger up toward the hill above town.

“There it is—my property.”

I stood behind her and sighted along her arm to where I saw the villa high atop the ridge.

“Looks lonely up there,” I said.

“Can be.”

“Nicole?” A voice came from behind us.

“Bonjour,Alain, ça va?”

“Very good, my dear! What brings you back—ah, Monsieur Reilly.”

“The hotel always looks so beautiful, Alain,” Nicole said. “Remy would be so proud.”

Monsieur Toussard—Alain—bowed deeply at the waist.

“Just like when you were—”

“What did you want to show me, Buck?” Nicole’s eyes were wide.

I turned to Alain. “The pictures we looked at the other day.”

“Bien sur, come, please.”

We followed him inside. If the secretary knew Nicole, she didn’t acknowledge her.

“Please take a seat,” Alain said. “I will bring them out.”

Nicole sat down and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Alain returned with the stacks of pictures, still organized into the piles we’d arranged previously. As soon as he placed them on the table, Nicole said we’d let him know if we had any questions. With that, he bowed again and left.

Nicole let out a long, slow breath while looking through the pile from Remy’s years. She pointed out movie stars from the ‘50’s and ‘60’s. While the facility was austere compared to today’s magnificence, it was easy to see why it had been such an early draw for those in need of refuge. Sheer rock drop-offs provided most of the boundaries, except for where the peninsula met the land, with St. Jean beach on one side and Nikki Beach on the other.

“The small pile of rocks and refuse is after Jerry bought the property,” I said.

She pointed to the picture of Jerry holding the shovel.

“That was after he’d finished clearing the debris and vegetation.” She pointed to one of the pictures from Remy’s pile, which showed a lot of trees, bushes, and rocks. “See what it was like before?” She studied the panoramic shot that showed the peninsula mostly cleared except for the buildings that had withstood the storms.

My attention stayed on the picture of Jerry, young, muscular, smiling, shovel in hand. He had purpose. It was the apex of his life, as far as I knew. Henri Antoine helped clear the mess and prepare the property, but Jerry was totally involved. He’d taken a gamble, sweat blood and no doubt tears to build something he could be proud of, only to have it crumble around him. And then to watch the new owners erect one of the most beautiful hotels in the world? That had to be a constant reminder of his failure.

“Do you know if Jerry had any help in doing the work here?” I said.

“He must have had, but I do not know who.”

“Someone mentioned the name Antoine Construction to me.”

“The big home-builder? He does large projects but I don’t think Jerry could have afforded him, though perhaps he was smaller then.” She frowned. “It is odd that you mention him, I heard Henri ran his truck off the road and was nearly killed—”

“What? When did that happen?”

“Early this morning. He was flown to the big hospital in St. Martin.”

My stomach rolled over. The Dominicans? Jack and Gunner? I’d told them both about Henri Antoine.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Nicole said.

I tried to shake off the news but it clung to me like a poison ivy rash. I still had to answer her question.

“A connection between Remy and Jerry that would explain all this sudden interest in the Concepcíon.”

Alain Toussard had been working alongside his secretary. Now his head peered over the counter.

“Did I hear you mention the Concepcíon?”

“Why, does that mean something to you?” Nicole said.

“It is just that two other men have come here asking if there is any documentation pertaining to that ship.”

“And was there?” I said.

He held his hands up. “None that I am aware of, but these men, they were very persistent—one even demanded to review our old storage files. When I refused he made threats.” He looked at the secretary. “Natalie called Security.”

Nicole