The Island of Dangerous Dreams Read Online Free PDF

it. No one would suspect me. I was just Madelyn’s niece, an uninvited, unwanted guest.
    Spray stung my cheek as the boat nosed into a high swell, and an idea struck me with the same force. Each of the invited guests on this boat wanted that artifact. But so did I. I wanted it to be returned to the country of Peru.

CHAPTER
4
    We were a floating restaurant all the way out to the island. It’s a good thing that none of us were inclined toward seasickness. Kurt appeared with a large tray of sandwiches and fruit. When the tray was empty he did a disappearing act and came up this time with assorted cookies. He kept a bar going, and luckily there were plenty of soft drinks.
    Benita sipped on a diet cola, simpering a bit as she said she never mixed drinking with business and wanted to keep a clear head for whatever was in store.
    “You’re going to love Justin’s house,” she explained to Aldo. “It’s an old plantation-style home, with wide verandas on both floors. The rooms on the verandas face the sea, and they have marvelous louvered doors that open wide to the breeze. Absolutely delightful. A gorgeous place to entertain. I’ll never forget Justin’s birthday party last year. Madelyn and I were there. Norton, too, as I remember.”
    Norton shook his head emphatically. “I’ve never been to Justin’s island.”
    “But you must have been,” Benita said. “I distinctly remember—”
    “Incorrectly,” Norton interrupted. “Just ask Justin. This is not only my first trip to his island, it’s my first trip to Florida.”
    “I believe that’s right,” the judge said.
    “But I could almost swear that …”
    Madelyn smiled. “You’re thinking of the Art Gala in Santa Barbara in ’85.”
    Benita sighed. “Well, if you all say so. I honestly don’t know how I can get one party so confused with another.”
    “Perhaps it’s your age, dear,” Madelyn murmured.
    I timed them out. It was more interesting to watch the horizon, where small, dark blobs began to emerge as islands, looming up around us as we wove our way between them. Here and there I saw a house or two or a small boat, but most of the islands seemed to be uninhabited. We went through stretches of open sea, then islands again, then sea. Finally there was a change in the pitch of the boat’s motors and we swung inward, around a wooded promontory at the far western end of an island, and headed toward a small dock where a single figure waited for us.
    Benita waved and called, “Yoo-hoo, Ellison!” even though she must have known that the noise of the motors would keep her from being heard.
    Ellison was bent and angular, with short-cropped, tight gray curls, and as we moved closerto the dock I could see the smooth, flat contours of his face, which was as dark and unwrinkled as a purple plum and just as empty of expression. Whatever he thought or felt seemed to be tucked safely out of sight behind the wire-rimmed glasses whose thick lenses shielded his eyes.
    Beyond the dock and the heavily wooded hillside emerged the judge’s large plantation house, which had obviously been designed to overlook the bay and its inviting strip of white sand. Maybe I had expected too much from Benita’s enthusiastic description. The house had a grayed, slightly moldy look, and unkempt vines wrapped clinging tendrils over porch rails, pillars, and shutters.
    With a softly padded thump the boat slid against the dock. The deckhands again sprang into view and into action, and, one by one, we were helped from the boat.
    For the most part we took care of our own luggage, since we’d brought very little, but Ellison carried the judge’s case up the path and entered the house, Kurt right behind him.
    The others made trivial chatter about the boat trip and the house, but I hung back, absorbing the silent beauty of the island. The water, which patted the shore with little shushing sounds, was so clear that it was hard to judge its depth. Under its shimmering surface was a