The Folly Beach Mystery Collection Volume II

by Bill Noel

  “Lordy, young man. Do you think I sit here and keep tabs on what happens across the street? I have no idea when the sweet little thing shows up.”

  “Dixie,” Charles said, “do you know if Martha took in any new pets in the last few days? Maybe an Australian Terrier?”

  “Now that’s one strange question, Charles. I don’t have the vaguest idea.” She took a sip, set her glass on the table beside her chair, and said, “You missing one?”

  Charles told her about Dude and Pluto.

  “Oh, dear. I can’t imagine Martha stealing someone’s pet. No, I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, my good friend loves, really loves, dogs and cats. I don’t understand why she takes so fondly to them, but she does.”

  Charles leaned forward on the sofa. “Harry Truman once said, ‘If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.’”

  Dixie looked at him like he sprouted a second head. “What’s that have to do with Martha?”

  Excellent question, I thought. “Charles likes to quote US presidents.”

  Charles glanced at me and back to Dixie. “It means that I understand how your friend can love dogs. Where did she get the ones she has over there?”

  “Don’t know about all of them. I know she’s taken in strays over the years. One look at them and you can tell they were strays. Your friend’s dog didn’t look like a stray, did it?”

  Dude looks like a stray and Pluto takes after his owner, so I wasn’t ready to say no.

  Charles didn’t have my reservation and said, “Absolutely not.”

  “There you go,” Dixie said.

  “You’re sure you don’t know when the pet sitter will be back?” Charles said.

  Her hand balled into a fist and she glared at Charles. “I told you I don’t know.”

  She was getting annoyed, and I didn’t blame her.

  “Dixie, I hear you have one of the nicest gardens on Folly,” I said to lower her level if irritation, or so I hoped.

  A smile returned to her face. “I like to think so. Would you like to see it?”

  Not really, I thought. “I’d love to.”

  She finished her liquid relaxer and led us through the kitchen to a deck, and down the steps. I knew as much about gardens as I did about the flora and fauna on Iceland but could tell that Dixie’s was special. There were fifteen, four-foot-by-six-foot raised cedar rectangular boxes, each a foot high. Three rows of low shrubs and a row of ornamental grasses were behind the beds.

  Dixie started telling us what each thing was and pointing out the name holders beside each item. Most of the flowers weren’t in bloom, but it didn’t stop her from telling us about them. It wasn’t long before I zoned out when she was giving us the Latin name of the flowers and described the lasagna method of layering the mulch that works best for each variety of whatever those things were that were planted in each box. Charles, being Charles, was taking in everything the tour guide said. I started paying more attention, particularly where I was walking, when she mentioned having to occasionally “scat” a snake out of the garden. Dixie was in her element and her mood improved with each description, or it could have been heightened by the drink she had before giving us the tour. Charles wisely didn’t ask her anything else about Martha or the pet sitter, and I fended interest until I’d reached my limit and said that we needed to be going.

  “You can have another drink before you leave.”

  I said we’d love to, but I had somewhere I had to be. Charles continued to be wise by not asking me where. He wrote his phone number on a piece of paper he found in his back pocket and gave to Dixie and asked her to call if she learned anything about Pluto.

  17

  Confucius said, “A ringing phone after midnight seldom brings glee.” Okay, he didn’t say it, but should have.

  “Brother Chris, this is Preacher Burl. I apologize for waking you.”

  He knew me enough to know that if I wasn’t asleep by ten o’clock, it was a bad night.

  “That’s okay,” I lied. “What is it?”

  “Something happened, and I wonder if I could inconvenience you to delay sleep and come over.”

  The clock read 12:15.

  “Now?”

  “The police just left and—”

  That was all it took. I interrupted and told him I’d be there as soon as I got dressed.

  Every light in Hope House was on as I pulled in the parking area. Shadows from the live oak beside the house snaked across the side of the parking lot, giving the house an ominous feel.

  Burl was standing at the open front door waiting for me. His eyes were bloodshot and his shirttail untucked. “Please come in.”

  I followed him to the living room to find Bernard, Adrienne, Rebekah, and Joy seated on the sofa and two of the chairs. The Christmas lights were off and the presents under the tree looked forlorn.

  Joy jumped up when she saw me and gave me a hug. She had on a heavy, brown bathrobe and was barefoot. “Thank you for coming. I asked Preacher Burl to call you. I was scared and feel close to you since you saved me.”

  “I’m glad he called. Is everyone okay? What happened?”

  “Brother Chris, would you like something to drink? I have coffee brewing.”

  “I’m fine, Preacher.”

  Burl nodded and turned to Joy who’d returned to the sofa. “Sister Joy, would you like to start?”

  “I don’t know much,” she said and pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I was falling asleep, maybe already asleep. I heard a noise at my door like someone fiddling with the knob.”

  Burl added, “The knobs are old and make a lot of noise when they’re turning. Sorry, Sister Joy, go on.”

  “Everyone here respects each other’s privacy, so I was surprised that someone was trying to get in without knocking. I sat up and said, ‘Who is it?’ The noise stopped, and I heard what sounded like someone walking away.”

  “The old floors squeak a lot,” Burl interrupted.

  Joy continued, “I rushed to the door to see who was there.” She turned to Bernard who was in the chair beside her. “I must’ve been loud when I asked who it was.”

  Bernard said, “You weren’t that loud, Sister Joy. I was awake.”

  Burl said, “Bernard’s room is beside Joy’s.”

  “Preacher Burl,” Bernard interrupted, “may I continue?”

  “Of course.”

  “I heard Sister Joy and opened my door to see what was going on. The hall was dark, but I saw the outline of a guy rushing toward the steps. I started after him, and—”

  Adrienne said, “Bernard nearly knocked me down. I stepped out of my room on the other side of Joy’s to see what the commotion was about, and Bernard tried to run over me.”

  “Adrienne, I apologized. You came out so fast I didn’t see you.”

  Adrienne pulled her robe tight and smiled. “Apology accepted.”

  I said, “Then what happened?”

  Bernard looked at his fellow housemates to see who was going to interrupt him next. Everyone remained silent, so he continued, “After Adrienne tried to tackle me, I yelled for the intruder to stop. He didn’t. I followed him down the stairs and out the back door. I was barefoot and not quite as fleet as I was in my younger days when I was traipsing around Afghanistan. The troublemaker was out of the yard in a flash. Gone, poof.” He held out his hands, palms up. “That’s about it.”

  “Brother Chris,” Burl said, “I heard Brother Bernard yell and came out of my room to see what was going on. He told me about the outsider, so I called the police and asked the residents to join me in here.

  Rebekah yawned and spoke for the first time. “I slept through the whole thing. Preacher Burl woke me up and asked that I go to the living room. I have to be at work at six and was asleep before everyone else.”

  “Sister Rebekah, I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “That’s okay, Preacher. I was sharing so Chris would know where I was during it all.”

  “Did anyo
ne get a clear look at the man?” I asked, again, to get the conversation back on track.

  Burl said, “Brother Chris, I don’t believe so.”

  “No, sir,” Bernard added.

  Joy and Adrienne shook their head.

  “I was asleep and didn’t see anything,” Rebekah said.

  “Preacher,” I said, “you once mentioned that you lock the exterior doors after everyone is in for the night. How’d he get in?”

  “Brother Chris, the doors were locked, but as you can imagine, the locks are old and Officer Spencer, who responded to my call, said the back door looks like it was jimmied allowing access.”

  I remembered the first time I visited, a broken lock on the front door was being repaired. Burl tried to keep the house as secure as possible, but I could see how someone could get in without much trouble.

  “Preacher, why would someone would want to break in?”

  “I can only speculate. It should be obvious to everyone that there are no great riches here, no valuable jewelry, little cash. If a burglar sought to steal something of value, he would’ve been better off breaking in any other house on the island.”

  Bernard raised his hand.

  Burl said, “Yes, Brother Bernard?”

  “From my way of thinking, he was after Joy. He was trying to get in her room. Someone took her before. Tied her up, put her on a boat, took her out in the ocean, and probably planned to throw her overboard. Yes sir, he was after her.”

  Burl said, “Now, Bernard, we don’t know that.”

  “Preacher,” Rebekah said, “can I go? I’ve got to get some sleep before my shift.”

  “Of course, Rebekah. Bernard, Adrienne, why don’t you head upstairs and get some sleep.”

  The three of them slowly walked upstairs. Joy and Burl remained seated and watched the others go.

  “Chris,” Joy said, “I’m scared. I don’t remember everything, but bits and pieces are coming back. That man was after me.”

  Burl moved beside Joy on the sofa and put his hand over her hand. “Sister Joy, go ahead and tell Brother Chris what you told me before you went to your room.”

  “I think I was a bartender, and that’s why the bars over here looked familiar. I didn’t work in those places, but watching their bartenders struck me as familiar.”

  “Do you know where you worked?”

  “Not exactly. I remember it was smaller than the ones I’ve been in on Folly. Darker, too. I remember overhearing two guys talking. I wouldn’t swear to it, but it seems like they were talking about a robbery.”

  “Like they were planning one or talking about one that’d already happened?” I asked.

  “I’m not certain, I’m really not.”

  “Sister Joy, you told me that they didn’t know you overheard what they were saying.”

  “Yes, Preacher, that’s what I said.” She looked at the floor and then at me. “What if I’m wrong?”

  I nodded. “And they saw you and figured you were a threat.”

  “Then caught me, took me out to sea, and wanted to drown me.”

  I nodded. “Joy, can you remember anything else about where you worked, or about the two men?”

  “The bar was dark, really dark. It’s small. Most of its customers were dressed like they did physical labor. Muddy boots, yes, I remember several of them wearing muddy boots.”

  “Anything else?” I said.

  “No, sorry. Chris, if that guy who broke in here was one of the men who took me, they know where I live. I’m scared.”

  “Sister Joy,” Burl said, “I’m going to call Larry at Pewter Hardware as soon as it opens and have him install better locks on our doors. I should’ve done it long ago.”

  I hoped that would be enough.

  18

  It was two in the morning before I got home, and another hour before I fell asleep. I don’t normally watch the morning news, but it took all my energy to get out of bed after the early morning trip, so sitting in front of the television was all I had energy to do. I wasn’t paying attention until the anchor mentioned an overnight break-in at Grogan’s Fine Jewelry in Mt. Pleasant and threw the broadcast to a reporter standing in front of the store.

  The reporter looked like he was ten-years-old pretending to be an adult dressed in his light-gray suit, red and green Christmas tie, and a white shirt that was loose around his neck. He was standing in front of the strip center that housed Grogan’s. Yellow crime-scene tape stretched across the front of the building and provided a visual loved by television cameras. The reporter held the mic in front of an older gentleman with curly white hair, and wearing a black suit, a conservative burgundy and gray rep tie, and an expression that reminded me of an undertaker.

  “Mr. Grogan,” the reporter said, “how did the burglars get in? Also, can you tell us what was taken?”

  “The lock on the back door was picked, and the thief somehow disarmed the alarm. Our most precious items were in the safe and undisturbed. Unfortunately, being three days before Christmas, our inventory was much larger than any other time of the year. Space was tight in the safe and we left several pieces in the display cases that weren’t visible from the windows.” Mr. Grogan smiled. “Many of our gentlemen customers wait until the last minute to shop for their wives or lady friends, so we’re always prepared for the last-minute Christmas rush from procrastinators. As you know, we’re known for our high-end jewelry and luxury watches.”

  “I must confess, I’m one of those procrastinators,” the reporter said, and smiled. “One last question, Mr. Grogan. What would you estimate to be the worth of what was taken?”

  “We’ve not had time to do a complete inventory, but I’d guess it was in the one-fifty to two-hundred-thousand-dollar range.”

  I patiently waited through three commercials to hear the weather. An un-seasonable warm front was pushing thought the area, and the temperatures were projected to soar into the lower seventies. Barb called while a sports reporter was raving about the good season the College of Charleston Cougars were having and his prediction about tonight’s game again Coastal Carolina. I answered the phone and missed the prediction.

  “Any news about Pluto?” she said, instead of hello. She had become acclimated to Folly phone etiquette.

  “None that I’ve heard.”

  “Why not? What have you been doing all morning?”

  She knew I normally would’ve been up for a couple of hours and I told her it was a long story and I’d tell her later. She said she was walking to the bookstore and if I wanted, she’d fix me a cup of coffee on the condition that I stop at Bert’s and get her something for breakfast. I told her it was the best offer I’d had all day. She suggested that it was the only offer I’d had all day.

  “Guilty as charged. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  Denise, one of the personable clerks, welcomed me with a smile and the question that I hear way too often. “Any word on Pluto?”

  I told her no.

  She said, “Poor Dude. I hope the pup comes home soon. I can’t imagine how sad Christmas will be for him if Pluto’s not there.”

  Denise went to wait on a customer, and I headed to the case where there were two cinnamon rolls begging for me to take them with me. I gave in to their wishes and headed to the cash register.

  “It’s about time you got here,” Barb said, her smile indicating that she was kidding. “I’m starved.”

  We went to the office in the back of the store where she fixed two cups of coffee and I pulled two paper plates out of the drawer and adorned each with a cinnamon roll.

  She looked at her watch. “I can’t believe you’ve gone this long in the day without checking with Dude to see about Pluto. You’re slipping.”

  I told her about my late-night call from Burl and what’d happened at Hope House.

  “Do you think someone was there to harm Joy?”

  “I don’t know. The residents are convinced that’s the case.”

  Barb sipped her coffee and set t
he mug on the glass-top table. “Speaking of Joy, let me tell you something that happened yesterday after work.”

  I took a bite of roll and nodded for her to continue.

  “You know my vacationing neighbors.”

  “Troy and Nate,” I said and figuratively patted myself on my back for remembering their names.

  “Yes. I was in the elevator going to my condo, and before the door closed, Troy came around the corner and asked me to hold it open. He was pushing one of those big luggage carts. It was empty, and I teased him about having such a light load. He chuckled and said that they were checking out.”

  “Aren’t they supposed to be here a couple more weeks?”

  “They were. I asked if the weather was too hot for them. He laughed and said no that something came up and they had to leave early.”

  “That’s unusual. All he said was something came up?”

  Barb nodded. “I wouldn’t have thought much of it until I remembered something, I believe it was Nate who said it the night before. We were in the parking lot talking about the weather, our usual conversation when we couldn’t think of anything else to say. Nate asked how Joy was doing. It threw me a little until I remembered that he’d met her. I was vague and said as far as I knew, she’s fine. Nate was silent for a few seconds and then asked if her memory was returning.”

  “Is that all he said?”

  “I didn’t want to answer yet didn’t want to be rude. I said I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything else.”

  I watched her take a bite of roll, and said, “Are you thinking that they may be the men who took Joy?”

  She swallowed and sipped her coffee before shrugging. “I have no reason to believe that they are. It simply struck me as strange that they were asking about someone they’d only met once, and that they were leaving two weeks early.”

  “Leaving early because Joy’s memory might return, and she’d remember that they took her?”

  “You said it, not me.”

  “You have good instincts about stuff like this. What’s your gut tell you?”

  Barb smiled. “Good instincts because I spent years defending white-collar crooks?”