The Gift of Grift

by Dixie Davis

  An excellent idea, as always. Ray hauled himself to his feet and headed back downstairs at last.

  Two plates sat at the table, but Judy Smith didn’t.

  Ray craned his neck to check the small kitchen, but it was obviously empty. He rounded the bottom of the stairs and walked into the shop. Also empty. He checked the front door, still locked, and at the last second remembered to check the cash register. Without counting all the bills, he couldn’t be sure, but the drawer was closed, and the key was still hidden underneath where he kept it.

  He walked back into the kitchen, poking his head into the powder room. Empty also. The back door, however, was unlocked. Could she have slipped out without him hearing? Probably. No note or anything.

  Ray heaved a sigh and reheated his lunch in the microwave. Judy hadn’t even touched her greens. He munched on his own green beans, pondering what to do. Chip should be on his way here. Judy was probably long gone. He’d call her again, but he couldn’t imagine she’d ever respond to his number again.

  He’d have to come up with something to tell Chip when he showed up. And he needed to open the shop for business at some point today. But maybe he could delay both of those with one other thing he needed to do today: make sure Lori’s bed and breakfast was ready for the guest checking in today.

  Ray rinsed his plate and put it in the dishwasher, leaving Judy’s to deal with later. Just like he’d have to deal with the problem she’d created for him. He grabbed Lori’s spare key on his way out the door, locking the shop behind him.

  The historic home across the street felt colder than a museum, nothing like how it felt when Lori was at home. Ray probably wouldn’t make much of a host compared to her, but he’d do what he could to make sure the guests’ needs were met. Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to help with many of them.

  Lori had left a long, helpful note — practically a guidebook — with instructions for him on her desk. Following her instructions had him running up and down the stairs three times. Ray shook his head, wishing she’d organized things a little better for an old man with aching knees and far too many problems on his mind.

  Ray made sure the room was clean, the bed made, and the bathroom stocked for the Cunninghams’ arrival. He had to replace the fancy little hand soaps and a missing washcloth from the linen closet, but everything else was ready in the room.

  Naturally, Lori’s hospitality extended beyond just the guest room. He found the pound cake she’d mentioned in the freezer with a post-it note tacked to it. Following Lori’s meticulous, if slightly out of order, instructions, Ray laid out the cake on the sideboard in the parlor to thaw. The mini fridge underneath was stocked with sodas and water. With Lori’s advice, he found some crackers and cheese and added those to the sideboard. Although the guests weren’t due for at least four hours, Ray went ahead and flipped on lights on the main level. Better to come into a house that looked inviting than a silent, dark tomb.

  The hardest part, of course, would be getting them a breakfast at a reasonable hour. Ray mentally crossed his fingers that the Cunninghams would want to sleep in on their vacation.

  “There.” Ray’s voice echoed in the parlor. This was definitely a poor substitute for the experience of staying with a hostess like Lori. She was always taking care of Ray and Katie, so he knew well how nice that felt.

  He tried to figure out what he could do to make the room more inviting. Fluffing the pillows didn’t work. Lighting a fire might well do the trick, but he wasn’t about to do that and leave. There was just no substitute for a hostess like Lori.

  By the time Ray made it back to open up the shop, Chip was waiting for him on the porch.

  Ray couldn’t meet the younger man’s gaze. “Chip.” He nodded his greeting.

  “Heard you wanted to see me?” Chip’s voice betrayed his weariness. With the case? With Ray? He couldn’t be sure — except he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.

  Ray unlocked the shop and gestured for Chip to enter. “Just checking in to see if you’re still thinking Pammy and I are cold-blooded killers over thirty dollars or thirty-year-old pain.”

  Chip pursed his lips and said nothing.

  Not the most helpful response. “Have you looked into the tipster more? I can’t help but think that person seems like a likelier suspect.”

  The police chief huffed out a sigh. “You know, Ray, I respect you, and I’ve always tried to be kind to you, but I’m ’bout done with being told how to do my job.”

  Ray nodded, looking away. He finally appreciated how hard it was. Just a few minutes ago, he’d been so sure they were about to at least put the con case to bed with Judy’s confession and restitution, and now he was empty-handed.

  Chip probably felt the same way a lot of the time. So Ray was finding it harder and harder to blame him.

  Other than the whole thinking-Ray-was-a-murderer thing. That one he was still a little miffed about.

  “I heard about what happened this morning at the BOA meeting,” Chip said, folding his arms.

  Ray propped up one eyebrow. “Have I done something wrong?”

  “No, but if you’d care to share who all was proposing going after Brian’s partner, we’d appreciate it.”

  Did Chip seriously think Clark and Dave and the others would kill just because they wanted Judy to make restitution? Ray took back his generous sympathy of a few moments before. “You’ve already talked to Clark about all this. You know what’s going on. And you know it’s hardly worth killing over. If any of us were really hurt by them, that’s what we have insurance for.”

  Chip cleared his throat. “We’ve already heard they practically cornered the girl, and you swooped in and saved her. Meanwhile, we’d really like to speak with her.”

  “So would I,” Ray muttered. “She isn’t here. Take a look for yourself.” Ray swept a hand around the room. Obviously they were the only people in the shop. Chip walked to the back and snuck a peek in the kitchen.

  Ray froze for a second, remembering Judy’s plate on the table.

  “Since when do you not eat your greens?” Chip asked. Ray’s love of collards was hardly unique. Perhaps Chip was just making conversation. He probably didn’t remember Ray’s dietary preferences.

  “You know, we’d really like to ask Brian’s partner some questions. Timeline, et cetera.”

  “If I see her, I’ll let you know.” And he wouldn’t let her out of his sight this time. “But surely you don’t think Judy could have done it?” At least he and Katie were pretty sure she hadn’t.

  “Ray, you know that the number one suspect is always the partner.” Chip gave him a meaningful look and headed for the door.

  That was what Judy had said, wasn’t it? A woman whom Brian used to be close to. Involved with romantically.

  But if that woman was the same one who killed him, the same one who put the buoys under the porch, the same one who called in the tip, then she wasn’t Pammy at all.

  Now he really needed to know whom Judy meant.

  Ray hurried after Chip. If he couldn’t get Judy to go to the police, he’d have to do the work himself.

  Chip was at his car when Ray reached the porch. Ray called after him, and the police chief stopped and looked up at him. “Yes?”

  “I did talk to Judy today. She said that Brian had an argument with a woman he’d been involved with romantically.”

  “Yes, we’ve already established he fought with Pam.”

  “She didn’t say Pam, and she had told me about Pam before, too. I think it might be another partner.”

  “How many women did one eighteen-year-old jilt?” Chip cocked an eyebrow.

  “But what if she meant someone else?”

  The police chief folded his arms. “Like who?”

  Ray sighed. What was he supposed to do, bend over backwards, go back in time and reinterrogate her? “I’m trying to help here, Chip.”

  Chip frowned. “I know. But we need evidence — at the very least, evidence this person exist
s. From where I’m standing, it looks like she’s inventing someone to try to throw the blame off her while she makes her getaway.”

  “I’ll admit that looks pretty probable, but if all she wanted to do was get away, why is she still here?”

  Chip shrugged. “She’s already several steps ahead of us, Ray. We need to catch up with her to find out.”

  That wasn’t the impression Ray had gotten, unless Judy deserved a Tony more than Sandy Duncan herself.

  Chip got in his sedan and drove away, leaving Ray standing there on the porch. What was he supposed to do now?

  The same thing he did whenever he didn’t know what to do: go back to Katie. He found her on the phone, and she gave him an important look, but also held up one wait-a-minute finger. He picked up her plate and gestured that he’d just take it downstairs, and she consented.

  He toyed with the idea of picking up the kitchen extension again but knew Katie would hear. Might as well just wait until she was ready to tell him whom she was talking to and what about. He headed back up the stairs and took his spot in his chair to wait.

  Katie was obviously wrapping up the conversation, and he didn’t have to wait long. She clicked the button to hang up and set aside the handset.

  “Who was that?” Ray asked when she didn’t tell him right away.

  “Diana at the library.”

  The one who hadn’t seen the tipster? “Any new information?”

  “Well, she said again that she didn’t see the tipster.”

  Ray deflated, but then Katie continued. “But she did remember a few people that she didn’t recognize hanging around yesterday evening.”

  “Anybody who looked like Sandy Duncan?”

  Katie furrowed her brow for a moment until he reminded her that Judy was a doppelgänger for the actress. “No, Diana didn’t mention anyone . . .”

  “Well, who did she see?”

  “A man who was in looking for someone who matched Brian’s description, but only vaguely. There was a man visiting from Columbia.” Katie ticked him off on her fingers, continuing, “A woman with a kind smile, and a woman from Wilmington with two little kids with her.”

  “Well, we can rule out the men right away.”

  Katie nodded.

  “Two kids?” They would definitely be the perfect height to see something under the porch. Most adults wouldn’t notice anything under there unless they were looking for it. “What about the other woman? Did she know anything else about her?”

  “Afraid not. She barely remembered her. Maybe forties?”

  “And none of them used the phone?”

  “They all did.”

  Ray frowned. He obviously didn’t know much about young mothers these days, but judging by the young families who came through his shop, he would have thought a mom would have a cell phone. “Seems strange in this day and age that she’d have to use someone else’s phone.”

  “Diana said the lady’s phone was dead.” Katie shot him a skeptical look. “But I highly doubt someone from Wilmington with two small children would come to Dusky Cove early on a Tuesday morning to murder a man.”

  “Especially without a fully charged phone.” Ray sighed. They kept coming up against this wall.

  “I’m going to talk to the assistant librarian,” Katie said. “She was there for half an hour last night, so she might have seen some more to help us out.”

  “I should probably open the shop.”

  “That whole making-money thing.” Katie waved a hand as if supporting their livelihood were no big deal.

  Honestly, he hadn’t expected to still be working at this age. He loved the shop, and he actually couldn’t imagine life not working there, but were it not for Katie’s medical expenses, he would have sold the shop long ago, or maybe given it to Debbie and Mitch, and settled into an easy retirement. Fishing, reading, sitting on a porch swing with Katie and leisurely strolls on the salt marsh boardwalk had once been all he’d thought about.

  But then Debbie disappeared, and Katie had gotten sick, and his dreams for the future had been derailed. So he understood a little bit how disoriented Judy might be.

  Though he couldn’t really understand how dishonest she could be.

  Once he’d put away the cooked greens, Ray unlocked the shop door and flipped the sign around. The off-season was sometimes touch and go for them financially, but right now he was grateful he’d been able to take the time away to tend to Katie and try to puzzle out who could have done this to Brian.

  A few townies and tourists did wander in over the course of the afternoon. Promptly at four o’clock, a smiling couple walked in and introduced themselves: the Cunninghams.

  Ray greeted them warmly and led them across the street to give them a quick tour and get them settled in their room. Again, he thought about lighting a fire, but now he realized he didn’t know where Lori’s firewood might be, if she had any in the first place. Ray made sure they knew where to find the Salty Dog and Mimosa Café and was relieved to hear they were planning to sleep in and wouldn’t need breakfast before eight thirty.

  Ray left his phone number with them and headed back across the street. It really felt wrong to have guests in the Mayweather House without Lori there, but of course he was happy to help her after all she’d done to take care of him and Katie.

  The last couple hours of business were actually fairly brisk — sweatshirts and buoys, mostly — and Ray was glad he’d opened the shop today when it was time to flip the sign to CLOSED again. He definitely didn’t feel like heating up the greens or anything else now.

  Ray checked in with Katie before heading to the Salty Dog to pick up Brunswick stew and hush puppies for dinner. Although he’d phoned ahead as always, today they had him take a seat at the entrance to wait for his food. Judging by the chaos and a few diners casting irritated looks toward the kitchen, it looked as though they were shorthanded tonight.

  That was okay. He could wait.

  The cook carried out a couple take-out bags and plopped them on the counter. Ray glanced around, but no server was in sight to give him his bag.

  Oh well. They’d already put it on his tab. There was no harm in just taking it. He checked the first bag for a cylindrical soup bowl and a square hush puppy box and found them both. He tied the bag shut again and called back to the kitchen to let someone know he had his order.

  The cook — wasn’t he Chip’s nephew? — saluted with a spatula, and Ray returned to his waiting wife.

  Once he’d gotten the necessary bowls and silverware, Ray began unpacking their meal in Katie’s room. “Oh,” he said, “you never told me what you learned from the assistant librarian.”

  “She was only in the back, sorting books.” Disappointment rang through her voice.

  “It was a good lead,” he said, although she probably didn’t need his reassurance.

  Katie shrugged and opened the hush puppies box. “You got a baked potato? Just one?”

  “No?” He glanced down, as if Katie couldn’t tell a foil-wrapped potato from hush puppies. He popped open the soup container, but that did hold the piping hot goodness of tomatoes, corn and chicken.

  Katie pulled the order tag off the bag. “Who’s Gail?”

  “That woman in for the wedding?”

  Katie flipped the tag to show Ray. “Supposed to be going to the motel.”

  Ray replaced the lid on the stew and packed up the meal. His mouth was beginning to water, but Gail deserved her food too.

  The restaurant was closer than the motel, and by a stroke of luck, his order was still sitting on the counter. Oliver must be behind schedule if he hadn’t taken the delivery out yet.

  Ray returned to dish up the correct order of Brunswick stew and hush puppies, and they finally tucked into their dinner. “Did you get the guests checked in okay?” Katie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Lori called to ask a little bit ago.” Katie held out the phone. “She sounded as though she could use some reassurance.”

&n
bsp; Well, the Cunninghams could use Lori here to host them, and she wouldn’t be home for another few days. Ray was a poor substitute. Still, he wanted to help. He pressed the buttons to call Lori back, and she answered after two rings.

  “This is your substitute bellhop,” he greeted her. “The Cunninghams got into their rooms just fine.”

  “Oh good. Did you get the cake set out in time?”

  Truthfully, he hadn’t checked on it to make sure it was fully thawed when they arrived, but he’d set it out plenty early enough. “Yes, ma’am, and the other snacks and drinks.”

  “You’re the best! Thank you so much, Ray.”

  “Of course, Miss Lori. Sorry I missed your call a minute ago. Got the wrong order at the Salty Dog and had to go pick up the right one. Can’t have my stew without hush puppies!”

  Lori laughed — and then Ray remembered she actually knew the lady whose order he’d accidentally taken. “Oh, our order got switched with a friend of yours. Said she was here for the wedding?”

  “Oh, I didn’t think anyone would stay in town that long. I feel bad for missing her. Who did you say it was?”

  “Um, Gail.”

  “My friend Gail?”

  “Yes, said she grew up with you.”

  Wait. Something about that didn’t feel quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

  “My friend Gail? She wasn’t at the wedding.”

  “Sure she was.” Ray wracked his brain for her last name. “Gail Santaquin,” he finally said.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Gail Santaquin.”

  “That’s what I thought you said.” Lori did not sound delighted to hear about her old friend enjoying her new hometown. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure? Said she grew up with you in . . .” Oh, what had she said? “The Triangle, I think.”

  Katie looked up from her stew, furrowing her brow at Ray. He realized he must be wearing the same expression of consternation as he waited for Lori to respond.

  “Ray, I’m from Charlotte,” Lori finally said. “And I don’t know a Gail Santaquin.”