A Timely Vision

by Joyce; Jim Lavene

  “Okay.” Shayla glanced at Kevin, no doubt to see if he had any reaction to Tim’s proposal. “I guess I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

  “I could take you too, Kevin,” Tim offered as an afterthought.

  “No, that’s okay. I’d rather walk. See you later, Shayla.”

  Shayla’s disappointment was written on her pretty face. “Yeah. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Maybe.” Kevin showed no sign of remorse at letting her go with Tim.

  As Tim and Shayla called out their good-nights, I carried the coffee cups over to the small sink in the back of the shop and began washing them out. Kevin brought the coffeepot over to me. I thanked him, and then my mind immediately leapt to small talk. “I think the Blue Whale will be nice when you finish it.”

  “Thanks. I won’t be able to do much until they get done with the investigation. It’s hard to believe that guy was up there all that time and nobody knew.”

  “Except the killer.” I took the coffeepot from him.

  “That’s true,” he agreed.

  “I can’t believe there are two deaths being investigated in Duck at the same time. It will be on everybody’s blog and the topic of conversation for years. That’s the way we are.”

  “I like it. I like Duck. I’m sorry I didn’t retire years ago.” He glanced around Missing Pieces. “Can I walk you home?”

  “No. That’s okay. I might hang around a while and do some straightening up.” I was lying, of course. I could hardly keep my eyes open. All I wanted to do was lie down and not get up until morning. But I needed him for the interview with Agent Walker, and it didn’t seem right to impose on him anymore. We didn’t know each other that well. “Good night, Kevin. I’m glad we found your key, even if it did lead to something terrible.”

  He smiled. “It was good that we found him. Someone probably misses him. I guess you are good at finding lost things. Good night, Dae.”

  I locked the door behind him, stuck my hand in my pocket and remembered the key I’d found on the stairs. It was too late to call him back. I’d have to give it to him later. I took it out and looked at it again in the light. I was right about the size and shape of it. Someone had probably dropped it years ago before the Blue Whale was closed. I knew from the way I’d felt when I picked it up that the key was important. But right now I was tired and couldn’t think about it anymore. I opened the cash register and stashed the key inside.

  It had been a very eventful day, too eventful. I still hadn’t recovered from finding Miss Elizabeth. I didn’t need the added anxiety of finding another dead person. I turned out the lights and sat down on the old brocade sofa.

  I wondered what Johnny Simpson had been doing back in Duck after all those years. Had anyone known he was here? Obviously, someone knew. It was likely that person was the one who’d killed him. Could it have been one of the sisters?

  I pulled my feet up on the sofa and closed my eyes. Shayla might feel that ghosts weren’t important, but they were more important to me than a lot of the tangible things that went on every day. I believed in the afterlife. I’d grown up on stories of ghostly visitations that predicted storms and of spectral lights that led people to safety during pirate raids.

  There was one ghost in particular I wanted to see. My mother had died in a car accident as she was crossing the bridge to the mainland thirteen years ago. I was a rebellious twenty-three-year-old at the time who’d wanted to camp out on the beach with a group of hard-drinking bikers.

  We’d argued fiercely about it, the end result being one of those not-while-you-live-under-my-roof kind of things. I promised to move out as quickly as possible. She didn’t back down.

  She’d gone off without me that day. It was raining hard, and the bridge was wet and slippery. They said she had a blowout and lost control of the car. It pitched over the rail and into the sound. They never found her body, as so often happens in the waters off the Outer Banks.

  For the first few months after she died, I hardly slept, waiting for her, torn apart by guilt. I quit college and spent most of my time staring out at the sound. There was unfinished business between us, the hallmark of most ghostly happenings. Every sigh in the eaves, every unusual creak in the old wood, sent me out into the hall looking for her.

  I was desperate to apologize and try to make amends. But after six months, I realized it might take something more than waiting around. That’s how I met Shayla. She didn’t have a shop on the boardwalk then. She’d recently moved to Duck and was working out of her home. She tried to contact my mother during a séance. Shayla and I became friends, but there was no message for me from the other side.

  Part of me gave up then and reasoned that one unresolved argument wasn’t a big deal. We knew we loved each other. We’d always been close. Talking to her one last time would’ve been great, but it wasn’t necessary.

  Part of me still believed. Sometimes, in the deep night, when I thought I heard her voice in the wind, I’d sit up for hours, waiting for her. I’d learned most of those island ghost stories from her. She’d come back, if she could. How many times had I repeated those words to myself? She’d come back, if she could.

  I pulled up the blue afghan she’d knitted for me and snuggled down under it, pretending I could still smell her perfume. She’d made this for me on my twelfth birthday. I had many things that she’d given me through the years, but none that I cherished more than this.

  It was the death and despair that made me long for her again. Tears slid down my face. I told myself to get up and go home before it got any later. Gramps would be worried. Sitting here crying wasn’t going to make that interview in the morning any better.

  I closed my eyes, just for a second, to clear them. I’d get up in a minute and drag myself home. It had been a long day, that’s all.

  When I opened them again, it was morning. Don’t ask me how that happened. Sunlight rushed in through the shop windows, blinding me, and someone was pounding on the door. “Dae! Are you in there?”

  I wasn’t sure if I was there or not. I recognized Kevin’s voice and sat up straight on the sofa. My face felt pushed in on the right side where I’d been lying against it, and my hair was standing up on my head. Added to that, my clothes were wrinkled and smelled like the old inn. I wasn’t a fit sight for man nor beast, as Gramps frequently says after a long night playing pinochle.

  I hoped Kevin would go away, but he kept yelling and pounding. The headache I’d woken up with pounded with him. There was no other way to get rid of him. I was going to have to answer the door.

  I tied a blue scarf around my hair on my way to the sink, where I splashed some water in my face. I didn’t have a toothbrush so I used my finger and some water to freshen up my mouth. Finally, I shouted, “I’m coming! Please stop yelling.”

  He stopped yelling and pounding. I opened the shop door and found him standing there in a gray suit and black tie. Gramps was beside him, still wearing his flannel pajamas with the fish on them. I couldn’t imagine a more unlikely duo. It almost made me laugh.

  “There you are! You promised you wouldn’t sleep here any more.” Gramps rushed toward me. “We’ve looked everywhere for you. I tried calling here a dozen times. You weren’t answering your cell phone. Kevin and I have been scouring Duck for you. Martha Segall assured me that you were attacked and left for dead like Lizzie. I told her to mind her own damn business.”

  The story, and the large, coffee-scented bear hug, was almost too much. I swallowed hard and looked past Gramps to Kevin. “You’re out looking for me too?”

  “I was supposed to meet you at town hall at eight, r emember?”

  I suddenly realized what had happened. I glanced at the teapot clock in the shop. It was almost ten thirty. “I fell asleep! What am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to go home, take a shower and change clothes,” he said with all the authority his gray suit could muster. “I’ll tell everyone, and we’ll meet you at town hall at eleven. Can you do that?”

 
“I think so.” My brain was still not functional. Maybe my reasoning was a little fuzzy too, but it occurred to me that there was a long time between eight and ten thirty. “You were late for the SBI meeting too! Even if I’d been there on time, you’d just be getting there now.”

  He nodded. “Guilty as charged. When I went back to the inn last night, I got caught up in looking for other secret places, so I overslept this morning too. Oh well, all’s well that ends well. So . . . are you going to change clothes or not?”

  I realized he had the right idea. Kevin hadn’t shown up, but neither had I. I could hardly hold that against him. I glanced at Gramps. “Did you bring the golf cart?”

  “You know it. Let’s hop to it, Dae. I don’t think you should keep these men waiting again.”

  With a murmur of thanks to Kevin for taking care of contacting Chief Michaels and Agent Walker, I left with Gramps, and we drove down to the house in record time. At least record time for the old golf cart.

  I grabbed the black suit I usually reserved for important mayoral duties, then jumped in the shower. There was no time to really fix my hair, so I tied it back in a ponytail, put on the black suit, shoved my feet into black sandals and ran back downstairs again. Gramps held out a piece of toast with orange marmalade and a bottle of water. I took it, said thanks and raced out the door.

  It was only ten fifty when I reached my office in town hall. Kevin was there with Chief Michaels and Tim. Agent Walker was absent. I didn’t mind getting there first. I took a deep breath, plastered a polite but apologetic smile on my face and sailed behind my desk.

  “Gentlemen, I’m sorry I was delayed.”

  “Delayed?” Chief Michaels demanded. “You’re almost three hours late. I hope you have a good story to tell Agent Walker. I don’t want Duck to be the laughingstock of the state.”

  “I hardly think a late mayor will cause that, Chief.” I tried to calm him down. “I got caught up doing . . . inventory . . . last night and fell asleep in the shop. I don’t know if that’s a good story or not, but it’s what I’ve got.”

  While the chief scowled and mumbled, Kevin came up to the front of my desk. “I think you have a little jelly on your mouth,” he whispered, his lips flirting with a smile.

  I picked up a tissue from the desk and dabbed at my lips. He nodded when I finished and walked to the corner of the room again. I was beginning to see a pattern in the places he chose to sit and stand. They were always the best vantage point to keep an eye on the room and the door. Maybe something left over from his FBI days?

  As Kevin took up his chosen post, Agent Walker and several of his officers walked into the office. I had to give the same speech all over again, minus the marmalade on my mouth. I suggested we all sit down, and Nancy brought in coffee for everyone. I was never so happy to see a cup of coffee in my life.

  “I’m glad to see you’re all right after everything that happened last night, Mayor O’Donnell,” Agent Walker said.

  “Call her Dae,” Tim offered. “Everybody does. We aren’t too formal here in Duck.”

  Agent Walker cleared his throat. “I hope you’re not too uncomfortable, ma’am. I didn’t foresee having such a large audience for our interview.”

  I could tell Agent Walker was having a bad day too. I took a sip of Nancy’s awful coffee, then put down the cup before I spilled it and managed to look even more ridiculous. “As I said, Agent Walker, I apologize for the delay in the interview. The audience doesn’t bother me. I guess you can consider them advisors.”

  He lifted his eyebrows before he put on his reading glasses but didn’t comment further. “Mayor, if you could describe the attack when you had your purse taken. Include where you were at the time, your reaction and everything that ensued until the arrest of Brian McDonald.”

  So that’s the name of the young man. I settled myself in my chair and told him what had happened from the time Brian McDonald had pushed me into the side of Missing Pieces until Tim jumped on him from the boardwalk in the parking lot. “He didn’t have time to take anything.”

  Agent Walker scribbled my words into a notebook. “Did you ever notice him around town before that event?”

  “Yes. He came to my shop on the Fourth of July and asked about a job. I told him I didn’t have anything.”

  “So we know McDonald was hanging around the area, scoping out his prey.” Agent Walker looked up at me. “Was Mrs. Simpson in the habit of walking through town with her purse?”

  “I never saw her without it,” I answered. “Not until that night when Mr. Brickman and I found her in the dunes.”

  He nodded. “Did you feel threatened by the purse-snatching incident, beyond losing your purse?”

  “I suppose so. He shoved me pretty hard. Mostly I was angry and determined to get my purse back.”

  “I’m sure Chief Michaels and Officer Mabry have both scolded you for chasing McDonald. It ended well this time, but it could’ve ended badly for you.”

  “I know. Several people have mentioned it.” I glanced at Kevin. “More coffee, Agent Walker?”

  “No, thanks. Mayor, I’m going to tell you something that can’t leave this room. It would jeopardize our investigation if it got out to the media.”

  I sipped my coffee. “I understand. I won’t tell anyone.”

  He removed his glasses. “We believe Brian McDonald may be responsible for Mrs. Simpson’s death. Our scenario is that he came upon Mrs. Simpson. She fought him for her purse, and he hit her with something. Then he buried her in the sand.”

  “How awful.” I thought about what Shayla had said. “Do you think she was dead when he buried her?”

  “We don’t have that information yet,” he admitted. “We found his motel room in Kill Devil Hills. He had a lot of purses stashed in there, hundreds of them. We’re still going through them, hoping we find Mrs. Simpson’s. That would connect him to the crime without a confession. If not, we may have to charge him on the strength of the circumstantial evidence. Either way, we may need you to testify against him.”

  I swallowed hard. “Of course. Whatever I can do to help.”

  He leaned toward me. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Can you find the purse?”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Obviously he was alluding to my gift. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I would have to be able to touch Miss Elizabeth to find something she lost.”

  “We could drive up to the morgue today.”

  That made me uncomfortable. This was definitely not what I’d expected from him. “I think she’d have to be alive. In order for me to find a missing object, the person who’s looking for it has to be thinking about it. I know it seems complicated, but I didn’t make the rules. I think I came with them.”

  “Have you ever tried touching someone who wasn’t alive, you know, to experiment?”

  “No!”

  “Just a thought.” He pulled out another notebook, identical to the first one—black, cheap and a little worn. “As to this new development, I assume Mr. Brickman filled you in on the identity of the dead man found at his establishment.”

  I glanced at Kevin. He didn’t appear to be upset that Agent Walker knew he’d told me—not to mention Tim and Shayla—about Johnny. “Yes. I could hardly believe Wild Johnny Simpson came back to Duck to die.”

  “It wasn’t quite as simple as that, Mayor. Someone killed Mr. Simpson. It was a long time ago, but there is no statute of limitation on murder. He was shot in the head. Do you think his wife might have been responsible?”

  “I don’t know.” Miss Elizabeth as a murderer? “I guess anything is possible. Isn’t it ironic that she was killed before we could ask her?”

  “Ironic . . . or timely, at least for her?” Agent Walker put away his black notebooks and got to his feet. “Thank you for your help, Mayor O’Donnell. We’ll be in touch. And if you change your mind about wanting to try out your talent on Mrs. Simpson, give me a call.” He handed me his card.

  I didn’t tell him there
was no chance I would change my mind, but there was no chance. I smiled, nodded and saw him to the door. His men followed him out.

  Chief Michaels closed the door after them. “Well that was a fine howdy-do!”

  Chapter 8

  “That fella sweeps in here from Raleigh and takes over not one but two homicides. My boys and I could’ve handled the situation. We’re trained. I was with the Dare County Sheriff’s Department before Walker was old enough to carry a gun. I’ve been chief here in Duck longer than most people can remember. I know what I’m doing.”

  Tim laughed a little at the chief’s humor. “That’s right. Who collared that boy for them anyway? Without me and Dae, they’d still be out knocking on doors looking for Miss Elizabeth’s killer.”

  I wasn’t sure how much of that was true. As far as I knew, the Duck Police Department had never investigated a murder. I wasn’t sure they had the manpower to do everything that needed to be done. But I smiled and nodded, wishing they would be on their way. I wanted to sit on the boardwalk for a while before I had to open the shop. It was nice outside. Warm, with a steady breeze blowing off the sound.

  “That reminds me.” Chief Michaels put down his empty coffee cup and looked at me. “I had a call last night from Millie. Seems she’s been seeing her sister’s ghost over at the house. I told her to go back to sleep and call in the morning. She called again at six A.M. on the dot. I guess I’ll go over and check on her.”

  Tim volunteered to go over for him. “You shouldn’t have to do something like that, Chief. Let me take care of it.”

  “No, that’s okay. I offered to go, and you know what she’s like. I’ll end up over there anyway if I let you go.” The chief looked at me again.

  “Would you like me to go with you?” I offered, even though I knew I should be getting over to the shop to open up for the day. But the chance to talk to Miss Mildred about her ghost was too tempting. Treasure hunters would have to wait until I got back.

  “That would be real nice of you, Mayor. I’m sure she’d like to see a friendly female face too. Losing someone in your family does strange things to you. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”