Cassolette Read online

  She had known it was coming, and yet when it did it took her by surprise. A most unwelcome jolt back to a reality that she had become increasingly reluctant to face. The old life seemed so far away, like fragmented images from another world. A world, that try though she might to deny it, she had no wish to re-enter.

  Now Joanna's telephone call at dawn had forced her to look squarely at her situation and what she planned to do about it.

  "Can't you take on an assistant—just on a part-time basis until I get back?" she asked hopefully. She knew she was merely playing for time, and evading that final most difficult decision: whether or not to sell her interest in the business and remain on Bell Island permanently.

  "Look Jaye, we have to talk," Joanna insisted in a no-nonsense tone, "and I don't mean over the telephone. It's been months since you left, and frankly things can't drift on like this any longer."

  It was the ultimatum that she had been dreading. For although she had been doing her best to keep up with the orders that Joanna had sent her, often working long into the night to complete web page designs as intricate as a Persian rug, she realized that it wasn't enough. She had, in fact, been shirking her responsibilities to Joanna and the firm and that it had to stop, one way or another.

  "I need a partner here with me on a daily basis," Joanna declared quite testily. "Problems come up all the time, and it's devilishly difficult to always have to handle them alone."

  "I know, and I'm sorry," Jaye responded contritely. "It's just that I've been so caught up with events here…" * * * "I'm sorry to hear that you're leaving," Chris said. His face was cast in shadow by the oil lamp, looking far from happy. Then he added, more to himself than to Jaye, "I'll miss you."

  They were in the authentic Victorian parlor of the Municipal Museum, making sure everything was in order for a special visit by schoolchildren the following day.

  "The Judge would feel right at home," Jaye remarked, while straightening an antimacassar on a mahogany sofa. For indeed, nothing much had changed since Percy had taken his ease here, ensconced in the winged back armchair by the Adam fireplace.

  She could feel his grim presence emanating from the heavily furnished room. What were his thoughts as he sat here puffing on his pipe—the same carved Meerschaum that now lay on the side-table by his chair, after ordering a poor unfortunate like Sadie Biggs to be brutally flogged?

  "I want to take you out for a slap-up meal before you go," Chris said. His tone was solemn as he pulled the heavy drapes across the casement windows. But he brightened a bit when she suggested King Burgers Drive-in.

  "That's not exactly what I had in mind," he laughed. She could see him twitch as memories of their highly erotic encounter there came flooding back."However, if you insist…." * * * Jaye booked rail passage for the following week. She was unhappy about having to return to Toronto, yet at the same time was relieved that she was at last taking some kind of decisive action. She had to admit to herself, albeit reluctantly, that she would not have done so, if it hadn't been for Joanna's insistence.

  She had been living in a kind of demimonde for months, engrossed with the affairs of Bell Island, and resisting the necessity of making a firm decision on her future.

  She would miss the sound of the sea and the cries of the gulls. And the briny tang of the ocean as it settled on her lips.

  On impulse, she took Adelaide's old Ford out of the garage and went for a long drive along the coast. It was her way of saying goodbye to a place she had grown to love. But on her way back the sunny skies darkened and the threat of an approaching thunderstorm curdled the atmosphere.

  Jaye dropped into a small truck stop along the Old Coast Highway to escape the deluge that had been too much for the windshield wipers to handle. It was a rustic, no-frills place called Bailey's consisting of a small diner and a couple of gas pumps. "Well, imagine seeing you here. Mind if I join you?" "Hello, Scott," she answered at once. She would have known this tall attractive male with the shaved head and killer green eyes anywhere. It was none other than S.W. Packard, author of The Bell Island Mystery. She recalled the afternoon she had spent with him in his cluttered library overlooking the ocean.

  "How's Reilly?" she asked on impulse, as memories of the inquisitive feline who had jumped onto her lap came streaming back.

  "Reilly is great," he answered with a smile. He seemed obviously pleased that both he and his cat had made enough of an impression to be remembered.

  "Do you come here often?" she asked. Then, realizing the hackneyed nature of the question, she burst out laughing. "Actually I do," Scott replied in the same vein. "They are in my

  neighborhood, and serve surprisingly good meals." "Oh, of course. You don't live that far from here. I'm still not too familiar

  with the geography of the place." He talked her into joining him for a late lunch, which they ate at a corner

  table beneath a 1930s poster advertisement for Coca-Cola. "This is good," she agreed, biting into a ham and cheese on freshly baked

  bread. "I gather you're lazy like me when it comes to cooking?" "Only when it's just for myself," he replied with a come hither look in his eyes. "Now, if you would agree to come over for dinner, I'd turn into a chef extraordinaire."

  She told him that she was returning to Toronto in a few days. "I have to. I've been neglecting my business responsibilities for too long."

  "Well I hope you're planning on coming back here," he said, spooning a side dish of potato salad onto his plate. "Bell Island won't be the same without you."

  "Eventually, of course. I still haven't finished going through all of Adelaide's correspondence. There are still half-a-dozen boxes of it stashed in the cellar. But exactly when, I couldn't say."

  "So there could never be a better reason for taking me up on my offer of dinner right now? If you don't, who knows when we'll ever get another chance?"

  Jaye could feel the sexual tension build as she looked directly into Scott's eyes. Their knees practically touched in the close proximity of the cramped seating quarters. "Okay. But I have to go home first. There are a couple of technical gizmos that I have to upload to my partner before six."

  The storm had left a refreshed world, although soggy, in its angry wake. Jaye drove carefully over the slick highway, her burning thoughts about Scott making it difficult for her to concentrate on the road ahead.

  The guy had a mega dose of animal magnetism about him that she felt right down to her toes. What would it feel like to run her hands over his naked scalp while he was gamahuching her between the legs?

  And she was to find out sooner than she expected. For directly after an exceptionally good dinner served with the driest of wines, Scott pushed her back gently against the couch, spread her legs, and began licking her cunt through her brief thong panties.

  But you haven't even kissed my other lips yet, she found herself thinking dumbly, though the sensations he aroused in her crotch swiftly stemmed all such objections.

  Jaye positioned herself to accommodate him better, snaking her legs around his neck and rocking back and forth in tempo with his tongue. She felt like she was flying. Soaring like a kite above the undulating earth. And rising…rising…until the great swollen mountain of desire was finally breached.

  "Oh, god, that was good," she gasped, tasting her own secretions on his lips when he kissed her full on the mouth. "Now let me do the same for you?"

  His cock was hard as granite and uncut. His balls were tucked so close to his body that she had difficulty finding them. "Come to mamma," she coaxed and pried them from his underpants with determined fingers.

  He moaned as she took the entire length of him into her mouth and treated it like a lollypop. She flicked around the glans with tongue and lips, drooling down the shaft until it glistened.

  Jaye could feel him pulse with a frenzied beat and knew that he was trying to hold back on the orgasm that threatened to engulf him. He was desperately trying to postpone the moment of ultimate bliss so as to enjoy the anticipat
ion of it just a little longer.

  She stroked his buttocks and the insides of his thighs, keeping up a steady rhythm with her mouth at the same time, and it proved his undoing.

  I'm going off…" he groaned. She could feel him being carried along on the crest of a gigantic wave, before it tossed him back on the beach, limp and completely sated.

  They lay together afterwards on the rug in front of the fireplace, stroking and exploring while the world outside lightened and exploded with birdsong. He toyed with her pussy, seemingly fascinated by it. "It's the loveliest I've ever seen," he confided, his eyes looking greener than usual in the half-light. He delicately touched the inner lips like they were like petals. "Just like a rose, moist with dew."

  It was too much for Jaye. His caressing fingers circled her clit while he kissed her with a passion that breathed dragon fire. And when she came it was in long shuddering spasms that completely wracked her frame.

  She thought it was incredible that he hadn't yet fucked her. The orgasms she had enjoyed up to that point had been achieved by his fingers and tongue. But she did want him inside her, very badly. Needed to feel filled up by his steely maleness. Wanted to wrap her legs around his waist while he pounded her to ecstatic oblivion.

  "Now…" she murmured invitingly and dragged him down on top of her, fitting her throbbing sex around his own, while her tongue flicked inside his ear and her pinky tapped tantalizingly against his anus. She planned to insert it at the moment of climax to increase the intensity of his pleasure.

  Scott's face was flushed and his eyes glazed as he thrust inside her with all the enthusiasm of a dervish. His balls thumped against her bum like battering rams at an unwieldy gate. She wrapped her fingers round the base of his cock, and left them there as he re-entered her flooding cunt. The extent of her arousal made her expand to accommodate both cock and hand.

  The climax, when it came, was noisy, prolonged, and intensely exciting. "Would you like to go again?" he asked, after they had caught their mutual breaths. "I'm a bit tired, but still randy."

  Jaye nodded and turned on her side, enabling him to enter her from the rear. The spoon position was not a vigorous one, and tailor made for low energy. Scott explored her body with his hands, paying special attention to her breasts and bottom, while gently fucking her with his still hard cock.

  "Keep that up and I won't last," she warned with a laugh. She pushed her buttocks up against his belly to meet his thrusts, winding her leg around his.

  "That's okay. We've got all day," he replied lustily. "I'm going to make you go off as many times as I can." "But I could do it better, mon amour,"she heard Guy whisper, his dark eyes

  hot with promise. "Get outta here," she importuned this erotic phantom. Would she never be

  free of her longing for him? For although she could forget about Guy during the day, at night when she frolicked with her lovers, he would be right there in bed beside them. * * * A sudden breeze whipped around the walnut trees that stood in a small grove on the edge of Scott's yard. "I think we're in for a storm," he remarked, wiping the sweat from his forehead and shielding his eyes from the sun.

  Jaye settled back in a shady corner of the deck, feeling languid and perfectly content. From where she sat she could see the breakers crash on the shore. The roar of the surf merged with the screech of gulls.

  Her body tingled from the prolonged lovemaking session, her breasts and pussy still swollen and tender. She knew that she should get up and go home. There was still lots to do, including packing. But a natural reluctance to leave the scene of so much bliss rendered her immobile.

  Scott made a western style omelet and served it with fresh spinach. "We'll need it to keep up our strength," he joked, "and put some lead back in my pencil."

  Jaye sipped on a glass of iced tea, running her fingertips sensuously over its frosty coldness. They had been so involved with carnal pleasure that conversation regarding Bell Island and Scott's new book about the history of Pendle Harbor had not been mentioned.

  But now that their desire was slaked, at least for the present, the question of what she intended to do about the island and its supposed treasure was very much on both their minds.

  "I'm doing a television interview next Friday," Scott explained. "All about Bell Island and the longest running treasure hunt in history."

  She told him about the cofferdam idea, and how she was placing it on hold for the time being. "You can see the problem I have with it since the discovery of the gold coin," she said pensively. "It would seem to back up Adelaide's theory about the British treasury ending up there courtesy the Percys. And yet, if this is accurate, there's every reason to suppose that they removed it aeons ago."

  Scott nodded and swatted a mosquito off his arm. "And yet Adelaide must have been convinced it was still there. Otherwise, why was she going ahead with the cofferdam?"

  "Well, that's just it. But she must have been privy to some other source of information that I haven't, as yet, come across."

  "You mean some document or other that would indicate the Percys could not have removed the treasure?"

  "Right. But I'm afraid my aunt was not a good record keeper. She never kept files of any sort. And I'm having the devil of a time sifting through all her correspondence and notes. There's still two or three trunks of it still waiting to be sorted."

  "I interviewed her a couple of times while I was gathering material for my book," Scott said, taking a long swig of his tea. "She had a razor sharp memory for someone of her age. And a really good grasp of the island's history, as well as the surrounding area."

  Jaye nodded, feeling unaccountably sad for a moment. Perhaps it was the sense of opportunity lost forever. She would have loved to know her aunt, but now never would.

  "Do you think she met with foul play?" She suddenly shot out the loaded question; her eyes riveted on Scott's face while she awaited his answer.

  "It's unlikely," he replied, after only the briefest hesitation. "And I know what Angus is saying for he hasn't been discreet about it."

  "Yes, he believes the mysterious John Dorian from Midas Holdings was responsible. According to Angus, he wanted to buy the island but Adelaide refused. Then, when he found out about the cofferdam, and how close she might be to finding the treasure, he got desperate and murdered her."

  "But if this were true, wouldn't he have contacted you and made an offer of sale?"

  "That's exactly what I asked Angus," Jaye responded thoughtfully. "But he vetoed the idea on account of how it would point to Dorian's guilt."

  He doesn't want to appear too anxious, lassie, Angus had said. He's a wily old campaigner who's waiting to see what you'll do before making his move.

  "And Angus has no idea who this Dorian might be?" Scott asked, scratching his goatee with a restless finger. "No hunches or suspicions?"

  Jaye shook her head, explaining how she had researched Midas Holdings, only to come up against a dead end. "There's no clue as to who this character might be. Whoever he is, he's covered his tracks very well."

  Scott tried to talk her into spending another night with him. But with obvious reluctance she gracefully declined. "Some other time. I wouldn't miss it for the world. But duty awaits me I'm afraid."

  The drive back through a world dappled with moonlight lifted her spirits while leaving her mellow mood untouched.

  A large hawk-like bird swooped down and startled her on her approach to Bell Island via the causeway. It looked like a kestrel or perhaps even an osprey. Jaye guided the old Ford over the rough gravel road that wound through the evergreens and maples. The darkness was all-inclusive here, without even the lights from the town to glimmer through its opaqueness.

  A tremor of uneasiness that had began when she saw the night bird rose in her with stealthy rapidity.

  "Take a hold of yourself," she muttered. She blamed the darkness and the lateness of the hour for her anxiety and escalating sense of foreboding.

  The oppressive energy of the night seemed to clutc
h at her and stifle her breathing like some nocturnal boa constrictor. As her headlights flooded the clearing where Adelaide's house stood, they picked out the reason for her disquiet. For there standing by the gate was the figure that she had seen on two other occasions. It was the tall cloaked man with the tricorn hat. He suddenly loomed out of the gloom, caught for a tiny fraction of time in the piercing glare of the headlights.

  There had been a build-up of energy, disturbed and static, as before a thunderstorm. And there had been fear also, a definite sense of foreboding and panic.

  Time had ceased to exist as she stared at the figure as if hypnotized. Her eyes transfixed to the flowing black cape and jaunty three-cornered hat.

  Then her foot had slipped off the brake and hit the gas pedal. "Damn," she muttered as the car lurched forward and she quickly brought it under control. But that split second had been enough to divert her attention, and when she looked back at the gate the figure had disappeared.

  Six

  "I did see him," Jaye insisted, swishing the Scotch round in her glass before knocking it back in a swallow, but more to convince herself than anyone else. She had telephoned Scott as soon as she reached the safety of Adelaide's house. Her legs trembled so much, she was afraid they would buckle.

  It was the first time that she had seen the figure up close, and had gained an impression of a dark, aquiline featured man of middle age.

  "I'll be right over," Scott said, both surprising and delighting Jaye by his sensitivity to her distress. "I'm in motion already."

  When he arrived he told her that while researching Bell Island's history for his book, he had come across several references to reported hauntings. "So I'm not doubting what you're saying one bit. This is a pretty spooky place with a long history of weird goings on."

  They were seated on the Naugahyde sofa in the sparsely furnished living room. Adelaide had eschewed impractical decoration of any kind, and was thrifty to the point of meanness when it came to buying furnishings.