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Bastian knew he wouldn’t be believed quite as easily, but he quickly agreed. “Remy’s right.”
Livingston was openly skeptical. “There was just an empty hole in the wall...”
Remy threw up his hands. “I guess so. I don’t even know about that. I’m not here that often. I’ve been going to UCLA for the past ten years. I’ve hardly been on the island since high school. If there was a duffel bag in the wall, maybe it belonged to the contractor who did the renovations. Or Bo Broussard.”
Bastian got the impression Livingston was tempted to laugh. “You’re pointing your finger at the caretaker?” he said. “Essentially telling me the butler did it?”
“In this case, that might be true,” Remy explained. “Maybe you’re not aware, but Bo’s real name is Beau Landry. He has a record. Shot and killed his own father.”
Obviously shocked by this statement, Livingston looked up from his notes, where he’d just written Bo’s real name.
“You can do a background check if you don’t believe me,” Remy added.
Rocking back, Livingston crossed his legs. “And yet your mother hired him to take care of the property?”
“She was unaware of his history at the time,” Remy said. “She just found out—and fired him.”
“I see. So he served time for murdering his father—a very different kind of crime—but you think he’s been stealing women’s underwear? How would he have a picture of Lyssa in that bag if he didn’t come to the island until...two years ago, was it?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Remy said.
“You don’t think it’s relevant that Bastian has a history of peeping on women?” the detective asked. “And that a pair of your ex-fiancée’s underwear has gone missing in his company?”
Remy took a step forward. “Who said her underwear’s gone missing?”
“She did,” Livingston replied.
“That could’ve been Bo, too,” Remy said. “She was having an affair with him while I was in LA trying to finish up my boards.”
Livingston nodded. “Ah, the real reason he was fired.”
Bastian could tell the detective was really pissing off Remy when a muscle began to twitch in his brother’s jaw.
“Look, I know you don’t like us,” Remy told Livingston. “Maybe you have some chip on your shoulder when it comes to the upper class. But I will tell you this—you have no proof, and continuing to accuse us of crimes we didn’t commit is going to causeyoumore trouble than us.”
Livingston stiffened. Bastian feared Remy had gone too far, but there was nothing he could do, not without making the situation even worse.
“I’ll keep that in mind and get back to you after I investigate this more thoroughly,” he said through a clenched jaw.
The detective left immediately after that. Bastian waited until he saw his plain brown sedan pull down the drive, then turned on Remy. “What the hell?” he cried. “Why’d you piss him off like that? Now he’s going to come after us for sure—and by us, I meanme!”
Remy shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing he can do.”
“So what’s the plan?”
Bo hadn’t realized his sister had come out of the house. When he heard her voice, he turned from where he stood at the water’s edge, watching the sunset, and mustered a smile, even though he wasn’t eager for company. He’d been deep in thought, trying to decide what to do about his future. More than anything, he wanted to return to Mariners, to see Ismay again. But by now, word of his past would have spread, so he’d have to face all the people he’d deceived. The locals gossiped about everything. Ivy at the library would know. Honey would know if she was home—thank God she wasn’t, because he cared about her opinion. So would the contractor he’d helped on the cottage renovations. The grocery store clerks. And Remy and Bastian would be right there, just down the street from Ismay and Jack, antagonizing him whenever possible.
But none of that had to do with the real reason he was hesitant. Although returning wouldn’t becomfortable, he cared enough about Ismay to run the gauntlet. The problem was that he didn’t believe she could be truly happy with someone like him, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed.
“You’re thinking about Ismay,” Matilda said before he could answer.
Last night, while they were sitting on the porch, he’d opened up for the first time and shared a little about his dilemma. He still hadn’t told her he’d lied about his background and been caught and fired. He didn’t plan to ever tell her that because it didn’t matter now, didn’t change anything. But he had let her know he’d met a woman he cared about and would have a hard time moving on without her.
Then don’t move on without her, she’d replied.
She made it sound so simple. Her words had been ringing in his head as he finished painting the house today. But every time he convinced himself to take her advice, he backed away from the decision. Why would Ismay, someone who had everything a man could want in a woman, ever settle for him?
“I’m always thinking about Ismay.” He didn’t see any point in denying it.
