A Timely Vision

by Joyce; Jim Lavene

  But what to think? If there was a ghost at the Blue Whale last night, he or she didn’t give me any answers I could use to help Miss Mildred. We still had no clue who really killed Miss Elizabeth, let alone who killed Wild Johnny thirty years ago. I wondered, as I listened to some birds chirping from inside a thicket, if the two crimes were related. It seemed likely to me. What were the chances that we’d find Wild Johnny’s body right after Miss Elizabeth was killed? On the other hand, no one could guess when Johnny’s body would be found. The whole thing was giving me a headache.

  The Duck Shoppes and the boardwalk were hazy in the fog, with seagulls folding their wings beneath the clapboard eaves, waiting for the sun. I headed to town hall first to surprise Nancy before she got there. I thought if I returned the note she’d lost to her desk, she’d think it had been misplaced. She could call the chief and tell him what he needed to know.

  I slipped my key in the lock, glancing around now since I’d had my purse stolen. I was trying to be more aware of my surroundings, as Chief Michaels always advised. It appeared to be only the seagulls and me. None of the shops were open. I pushed open the door and closed it quickly, locking it behind me.

  The Post-it wasn’t hard to find. Of course it helped that I knew exactly where to look. I reached my fingers along the floor beside the file cabinet and snatched it out along with a few dust bunnies. With a flourish, I spread it out flat on Nancy’s desk. She’d be surprised when she came in.

  As I flattened the rounded edges and the part that wouldn’t stick anymore, I read the note. It was brief—“I need to talk to you about Millie. Silas Butler. 252- 411-9750.”

  I stopped flattening for a moment and looked at the note in disbelief. Silas Butler? Everyone knew about Silas Butler. He was Elizabeth and Mildred’s younger brother. A ne’er-do-well who was thrown out of the army. He’d come home to Duck in disgrace only to take up gambling and any other illegal activity he could find. He was legendary for stealing a poor box from the Duck Presbyterian Church in 1964.

  The unthinkable had happened after that. He was killed in the 1970s running some kind of scheme or selling drugs. I’d seen his grave marker in Duck Cemetery a hundred times. My mother told me once that there was a song written about the Bad Butler.

  This couldn’t be the same person. There were probably plenty of Silas Butlers in the world. But how many who wanted to talk to the chief about Millie?

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was one of those standard round clocks, black and white with hands that crawl from one number to the next when you’re bored. I had at least an hour before Nancy came in. I dialed the number on the Post-it and waited for someone to pick up.

  “Sea Oats Senior Care.” The voice at the other end of the line was cheerful for this hour of the morning.

  At first I couldn’t think what to say, and she repeated her opening line. I gave myself a hard mental slap and said, “I’m sorry. Where are you located?”

  “We’re in Kitty Hawk.” She gave me the address. “Do you need directions?”

  “No, thanks. I was thinking about visiting Silas Butler later today. I hope he’s feeling all right.”

  “As far as I know. He’s been popular here lately. Lots of visitors. That’s a good thing, though.”

  I thanked her again and hung up. Silas Butler. It couldn’t be coincidence. But what could it be?

  I went and sat down in my office and considered the possibilities. Silas Butler was dead. Nancy probably wouldn’t have realized the importance of this when she took the message because she had only lived in Duck for a few years. The Bad Butler was mostly forgotten now. Even we can’t recall all our folklore. But Chief Michaels would know.

  I turned on my computer and looked through the old files. Most of them had been slowly but surely put into the computer database. I typed in “Silas Butler” and his file came up. Silas had been shot and killed on Monday, June 8, 1978. The day after Wild Johnny Simpson’s arrival at the Blue Whale!

  I looked at the notes on his death. Silas was suspected of “illegal trafficking,” which I’d learned from Gramps could mean anything from smuggled drugs to cigarettes. It was kind of a catch-all phrase used by the sheriff’s department. I read further into the file:

  Silas was shot and killed by a sheriff’s deputy after failing to lay down his gun. Deputy Ronald Michaels was on desk duty for two weeks during an investigation. It was found that he had performed his duty adequately, and he was returned to his job without further issue. On August 19, 1978, he was given a commendation for his handling of the event.

  The chief had shot and killed Silas Butler! No one had ever mentioned that part of the folklore. It never failed that in telling these tales, long-time Duck residents left out some facts and embellished others all in the name of making a better story.

  I’d been only about five at the time Butler was killed, so naturally I couldn’t recall anything about the death. But I had to wonder why Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mildred didn’t hate the chief for his role in their brother’s death. Finding that Post-it had led to more questions I couldn’t answer.

  I trusted Chief Michaels. But what did this Post-it mean? Was the public record wrong? Had Chief Michaels not actually killed Silas Butler all those years ago? Was it possible Bad Butler was still alive? And if so, why hadn’t the chief said something about it? He wouldn’t keep something like this to himself, would he? There had to be some mistake. Or I was misinterpreting what I’d read. One phone call could’ve cleared everything up. I didn’t make that call.

  I thought about it but argued that I would see the chief at the ribbon cutting for the new Mexican restaurant. I could ask him then. It couldn’t be dead Silas Butler in Kitty Hawk at that nursing home anyway. It could wait.

  But the morning dragged. I went and got coffee and talked to Phil for a while before I opened Missing Pieces. Of course it would be a slow day on the boardwalk. A lot of customers would’ve taken my mind off my worries. I watched the teapot clock in my shop crawl along until ten fifteen. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I put out the “Closed” sign and locked the door.

  Ribbon cuttings in Duck bring out the usual suspects. There’s Barney from the jewelry store and Mark Samson from the Rib Shack. Both of them are members of the Duck Chamber of Commerce. Carter Hatley from Game World was president. He brought the big wooden scissors to cut the bright red ribbon. The ribbon is always provided by Betty’s Boutique and Floral. Betty attends, enjoying the compliments on her elaborate ribbon design.

  Once in a while, one of the other town council members comes by to show support. Usually, this happens when there’s food involved. But today, even though there was food, it was only me representing the town. No sign of the chief. I held the scissors and stood next to the red ribbon with everyone else behind me. The chamber of commerce secretary took a few pictures for the town’s website and archives.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a newspaper or TV reporter at one of these events. But that’s okay. It’s a nice welcome to a new business. The owners all smile and shake my hand. I give them a small, gold plastic key that says “Duck” on it. It’s exciting for everyone.

  I saw Luke Helms in the sparse crowd right before the ribbon cutting. He came up to me after it was over and said, “I thought I might find you here. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Of course. Do you want to go back to town hall?”

  “No. This is fine. It’s about Mrs. Mason.”

  I felt a terrible weight in my chest even as the sun finally broke through the heavy fog. It looked as if the day would clear up, probably be warm and sunny.

  We walked over to the side of the road near a large purple horse decorated with sparkly stars. I wished I could jump up on it and ride to the hospital to rescue Miss Mildred. I knew it wouldn’t happen, even if it were a real horse, but the urge to do something was overpowering.

  “I’m afraid it’s not going well for her. Yesterday, the judge found her incompetent to stand trial. I don�
��t really know why. She’s as sharp as a tack, except for this ghost thing. It’s not something a judge wants to hear when he thinks you’ve killed your sister. It sounds like she invented a fantasy to block out what she did.”

  I knitted my fingers together, not sure what to say. “I know you did what you could for her. I think she really believes the purse came from her sister. Someone is setting her up. They planted the purse and made it seem like it was Miss Elizabeth bringing it to her. Then they planted the shovel that killed her sister. It’s a terrible thing.”

  Luke scratched his spiky, sandy-colored hair. “I wish I could do more. I’m not giving up yet. Not by a long shot. But she won’t listen to reason, and I can’t prove what you just said. It may be true, but without proof, she’s a crazy old lady who killed her sister after years of feuding with her.”

  “Yeah. We all know about the feud. I suppose that didn’t help either.”

  “I can tell you it didn’t help when Chief Michaels testified about how calm she was when the two of you went to tell her Miss Elizabeth was dead. I know he’s supposed to tell the truth, but it seemed to me that he went out of his way to make it sound worse than it was.”

  I thought about Silas Butler, but then shook my head. “If I can help in any way, please let me know. What happens now?”

  “She’ll be assigned to a mental hospital, probably on the mainland. Someone will be put in charge of her well-being. I suppose some family member will be given her power of attorney and they’ll take care of her estate. She could be stripped of her rights in a legal procedure. But that will take some time.”

  “She has no family left. The sisters had no heirs. There aren’t any cousins, nephews. At least not as far as I know.” Silas Butler whispered in my brain.

  “I guess a legal guardian will be appointed.”

  I put up my hand to shade my eyes from the sun behind his head. “Could that be you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll check on it and get back to you.”

  “Thank you so much, Luke.” I put out my hand to shake his. “I really appreciate what you’ve done.”

  He shook my hand and smiled. “That’s what I like about Duck. Everybody looks after everybody else. It means we all get in each other’s business from time to time. But it’s okay.”

  “That’s true.” We stood there smiling at each other for a few minutes. The rest of the small ribbon-cutting crowd wandered away. Part of me was thinking about Silas Butler and Miss Mildred. The other part was noticing how blue Luke’s eyes were.

  “Would you like to get some lunch?” he asked in an offhand way, as though unsure of how I’d reply.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  I judged his age to be around forty, not too far ahead of me. He seemed to be in good shape. He must’ve been a very good lawyer to have retired so young. I could do worse for a lunch companion.

  We agreed to try out the new restaurant. The enticing cooking aromas were already wafting out to the parking lot.

  Inside was cool and colorful with Mexican music playing in the background. There weren’t many people yet. I felt sure it would be popular later. We ordered our food, then sat back in the cool, dark booth to look at each other. Oh, the awkwardness of first encounters!

  “How about those Braves?” Luke began the conversation after a long pause. “They’re really moving this year.”

  I hated to admit I knew next to nothing about sports, so I nodded and agreed. I’d realized earlier in my career as mayor of Duck that this was all most people needed. “This is a nice place,” I commented. “Especially since we don’t have any other Mexican food down at this end.”

  He nodded, smiled and agreed, which told me he knew next to nothing about local demographics. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for Mrs. Mason. But I’ll check on being the trustee for her estate.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  The waiter brought some chips and salsa, and we spent the next few minutes munching. I could hear a TV somewhere in the restaurant, but I couldn’t see it. That was okay with me. It was probably tuned into a sports event anyway.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” I finished a chip and waited for the question.

  “What makes you so certain that Mrs. Mason didn’t kill her sister? Is that a Duck thing, all for one and one for all?”

  I thought about it. “I’ve known her all my life. She taught most of the people who live here at some point in their school careers. She was widowed young like her sister. She never had any children of her own. She gives to every children’s charity that exists, besides being an all-around good person.”

  He nodded. “I get that. But you know, sometimes good people do bad things. The case against her may be circumstantial, but it’s strong. When I was working in the system, I would’ve considered this a slam dunk.”

  “Why did you offer to defend her?”

  “Because she didn’t have anyone else, and everyone is entitled to representation. That’s what our government is based on. She seemed like a worthy cause to me.”

  “That’s very good of you, Luke. Even if you don’t think she’s innocent.”

  He leaned his head closer to mine across the narrow table. “It’s enough that you feel she’s innocent, Dae.”

  I was very flattered by the way he said it. I glanced up as someone brushed by us and looked into Kevin’s slightly sunburned face. I moved away from Luke suddenly, as though we’d been doing something wrong. Then felt silly for doing it. “Hi, Kevin. I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I needed a break from roof repair.” He nodded to Luke. “Hey there.”

  Luke nodded back in that way all men seem born to understand. “How’s it going, Brickman?”

  “Would you like to join us?” I ventured, since he seemed alone.

  “No, thanks. I’m meeting someone. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I watched him walk away and wondered if Shayla would be tripping in after him. Our food arrived after he was gone. Luke and I spent the next thirty minutes making small talk around burritos and enchiladas.

  When all the food was gone and the conversation had simply died out, I smiled and said, “I guess I should get back to the shop. Lunch was great.”

  “It was. Let’s do it again sometime. Where’s your shop?”

  I gave him the directions, which didn’t take long. He picked up the check, and we said good-bye. I walked across Duck Road, wondering how someone who had seemed so interesting could end up being kind of boring. Maybe he was shy, although that didn’t fit my ideas about lawyers.

  At any rate, I didn’t expect him to call or anything. We obviously weren’t well matched. I stopped for an extra minute at town hall where Nancy was beaming. “It’s been a very good day,” she told me. “I had misplaced an important message for the chief, and somehow it found its way back to my desk. I think it was the janitor. Then they finally got the phone system working right. I even heard from my daughter. How was the ribbon cutting?”

  “About like normal, maybe a few less people.” I took my messages from her, hoping there would be one from the chief explaining Silas Butler’s message.

  “And there was food too!” She pushed back her hair. “Someone needs to get after the other chamber members. What if a newspaper decided to cover a ribbon cutting? Say, about last night, did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary? ’Cause I have to tell you, I had a lot of wine, and I’m blaming it on a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “There was a sound. It was like someone was talking, in a breathy kind of way, you know? Then on the way home, I saw some shadows where there shouldn’t have been shadows. Do you believe in ghosts, Dae?”

  “I’d like to. I haven’t ever seen one. But I did hear something last night at the Blue Whale. I’m not sure what it was, but I didn’t have that much wine. I think someone was trying to tell us something.”

  Nancy’s red lips formed an O. “That’s what I was thinking too.
I think Wild Johnny Simpson knows that some people think Miss Elizabeth killed him. He loved her even though he left. He doesn’t want her blamed for his death.”

  “I guess that’s possible.”

  “Any word on Miss Mildred?”

  “Not really.” I didn’t want to repeat what Luke had told me. I didn’t have the heart for it. There was no message from Chief Michaels in the small stack of notes she gave me. That made me feel even worse. Why hadn’t the chief told me about Silas Butler? “I have to get back to the shop, Nancy. I’ll see you later.”

  “All right, sweetie. You take care.”

  I followed the boardwalk back to Missing Pieces, hardly noticing the antics of the gulls over the water. I was surprised to find the “Open” sign out and the door unlocked. Without thinking that someone might have broken in, I walked inside and looked around.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Gramps was down the aisle with the dinnerware. He wasn’t alone. “Mary Lou wanted to come in and take a look around.”

  Mary Lou smiled and waved. “Hi, Dae. I can’t believe I’ve never been in here. You have a huge collection. Mind if I look around with Horace?”

  “That’s fine.” I gave Gramps the you-know-what-to-sell look and walked back outside. I was surprised to find Kevin about to walk in. “Done with lunch already? Shayla eats like a bird, but this is quick even for her.”

  He smiled. “What makes you think I had lunch with Shayla? I think she’s dating your future husband right now.”

  “My future husband?” I searched my brain and remembered that he’d heard Tim propose to me at the Blue Whale. “That proposal was something he does from time to time. He started in high school and won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Unless he’s seeing someone else?”

  “Exactly. Sorry for the Shayla crack. I know she likes you.”