But, sometimes you get lucky.
Treasures were opening up all over Tipee during the Octoberfest celebration. Crowds were out early. Stores and vendors were racking up sales (me included). The boardwalk, pier, and Jubilee Park teemed with people. Costumed children raced from one excitement to another, but congregated at the end of the pier – the central hub for candy, crafts and games. The event was a huge success, even before lunch.
By 1:00, Sam called. “Just wanted to let you know that we’ve already gotten a solid lead thanks to your notebook,” he started. Background noise clouded his voice, and I could tell he was at the station. “You suspected the redhead had suffered from lead poisoning?”
“Well, it was one of the possible explanations when I researched what would cause blue lips and spasms,” I returned.
“Remember our psycho tweakers?” Sam went on. “They kept saying they’d been poisoned, and we thought they just got a bad batch of weed. Well, turns out it was lead poisoning.”
“So, that’s what could have happened to her?” I returned. “Lead poisoning?”
“Maybe, but it wasn’t detected in the hair I found. If that was your redhead’s hair and her symptoms were caused by lead poisoning, it would have been acute. As for the tweakers, I suspect that whoever sold them the pot added small amounts of lead to weigh it down,” Sam explained. “It’s a cheap way to double profits-”
“And make people sick.”
“If I can get one of our psycho tweakers to give up Ricky Wakefield,” Sam went on, his excitement radiating through the phone, “then, we’ll have him, too. Seems like just the kind of stupid thing he’d do to make more money. So, how does it feel?”
“What?”
“Validation?” I could hear his smile through the phone. I grinned.
“Better.”
“Everything going okay?” he asked.
“Fine. Low profile. No worries,” I reiterated.
That something in my notebook had been useful to Sam was like a tiny treasure, and for the next hour or so, I felt lighter. Lingering questions were like empty oysters, leaving me with only a bad taste in my mouth. But, for now, I was perfectly content letting Sam do all the digging.
That was until Chris Kayne walked into the store carrying a bright orange Nike box and a confused expression. “Delilah, found this box on your back stoop. Did you mean to throw it away?”
“That’s not mine.”
Chris shrugged, setting the box down in front of me on the counter. “They were right outside the back door in the middle of the concrete slab.”
“If you don’t want them,” Henry said edging beside me, “I’ll take them. Surely, I can find them put to good use.”
“You don’t want these shoes, Henry,” I decided.
The box was meant to vex me. I knew it. Just like the picture. And all I could do, as my pesky panic kicked in, was stare.
“You want me to toss them?” Chris finally offered.
“Um, no.” I took a deep breath and flipped the lid open. Inside there were shoes exactly like the ones I’d owned. Electric blue Nikes with hot pink laces. Stolen shoes were the common link between me and the other two robbery victims. The same shoes were stolen from Molly Tubbs – from her car and during her home invasion. Nikes were kick-ass, but they weren’t pearls or diamonds, even by Tipee Island standards. Could all of this be about some dumb shoes?
I pulled both shoes out of the box and set them on the counter. The packing material came next. I pressed it flat and examined the box, the paper, even the tiny packets of silica. All appeared normal. So, I turned my attention back to the shoes.
I’m not sure how long I sat there, lost in my world of contemplation, but I fixated on them. Gorgeous shoes. Uncomfortable to wear – at least these were. I’d owned other Nikes before that fit like a dream. You couldn’t buy them here on the island – no shoe stores. The only place to purchase Nikes would be either on the mainland or at the Cotton Exchange, and in most cases, those would be used. These were brand new. There weren’t even any store price tags on them yet. Had Valerie Kent been wearing shoes like this? Probably. The tourist from Cleveland? I had no idea. But, if so, what would make these such a hot commodity?
I grabbed the right one and pressed my hands all over the sides, front and heel. I pulled out the laces and examined the lip. The tread came next, but what did I know about treads? Everything looked like a normal shoe. I stuck my hand inside, pressing against the pink sole. Lumpy. My fingers edged the crease and close to the big toe, I felt a small piece of plastic. I played with it between my thumb and forefinger. Then, I pulled.
The pink lining gave way instantly. Yanking it out made me gasp. The sole had been carved out in three tight sections. Under the toes, a plastic bag containing a white, pasty substance. In the middle, a baggie of pills. Under the heel, a vacuum sealed bag of pot. I held the treasures in my hands with a surge of fear.
“Holy shit,” Chris belted out.
“My lady, what is this new devilry you’ve discovered?” Henry asked.
But, I couldn’t focus on their questions. Candy ain’t never been so sweet. Ricky Wakefield’s words screamed in my head. Last night, he and J.J. had been in costume, but not at the party, just in the alley right behind Top to Bottom. I’d thought I’d heard a door close. Glad that shit’s done. Can’t wait for tomorrow. My heart caught in my throat. Sadie told me they were planning something epic at Octoberfest, something that would make this town remember his name forever. They’d tampered with the pot to make more money. Would they tamper with candy to take revenge? I dropped the packets and raced to the back door of the store. I bolted into the alley and over to Top to Bottom’s emergency exit. I pulled, but it was locked.
“What are you doing?” Chris asked, following behind.
I leaned down and looked at the door’s latch. Pry bar marks.
“Looks like someone tried to get in there,” Chris suggested.
“I think someone did.” I pounded on Clara’s back door. Moments later, an irritated Candy pushed the door open.
“What in Sam Hill is goin’ on back here?” she demanded, but I breezed by her into Top to Bottom’s back room.
“Where’s Clara?” I insisted, storming through the clutter of shoeboxes and bolts of fabric. I made it to the counter before Candy could answer. “Clara, did you notice anything out of place this morning? Anything at all?”
“Delilah, what are you goin’ on ‘bout now?” she returned, pulling off her reading glasses. “Have you gone mental again?”
“Just shut up and answer,” I demanded. “Anything off? Anything at all?”
“No,” she spat back. “Everythin’ was just as I left it-”
“But, the candy, the candy for Octoberfest? That was here last night?”
“Yes, I was storin’ it here in the backroom. So?” Clara replied. “What the hell is this all about? You takin’ drugs or somethin’?”
“No,” I answered as I pushed my way out the front door, “but the rest of Tipee might be.”
From the store, I ran to the pier, dodging masses of people and weaving through booths and outdoor displays. My mind filled with images of Ricky Wakefield, so angry at being pulled from his abusive mother, that he’d take out his vengeance on the kids of Tipee Island and with so many drugs at his disposal, he could do it. I raced across the street without looking, earning a few honks from passing motorists, and dashed down the pier. At the end was kid central, and the candy was everywhere – on tables, in jars and bags, in hands. My mind raced with fear, and all I could do was yell, “Don’t eat the candy!”
My voice was drowned out by the surf, the games, the happy voices. So, I started grabbing and throwing.
“What are you doing?” Chris said, confused.
“The candy’s poisoned! Don’t eat the candy!”
The crowd backed away from me, ogling me like a three-headed dragon, but I kept on – tossing hoards of candy into the sea, grabbing bags from child
ren’s hands and throwing them overboard, even snatching pieces from their hands. Tears erupted at every corner, but I knew it was the right thing. The candy was tainted, poisoned, just like the pot, and this was the only way to save them.
“Delilah, calm down,” Chris tried to assuage, but it was too late.
“There’s drugs in the candy, Chris,” I insisted, dumping as much as I could hold over the pier’s railings. Enormous brown pelicans yapped and began picking the pieces out of the sea.
“Everyone seems fine,” Chris pointed out. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! Don’t eat the candy!” I yelled again, my voice becoming raw.
Four cops approached me, and told me to drop the candy.
I did what they said, sending the next batch into the ocean. “The candy’s been tampered with,” I assured them, trying to be calmer. “They can’t eat it.”
One of the cops put his hands out to me in a bring-it-down-a-notch gesture, but I winced. He said, “Ma’am, you’re scaring the children.”
“Better to scare them then to let them die,” I argued, tossing over a bag of Smarties. Nearby moms gasped, and yanked candy out of their children’s hands. One even grabbed a jawbreaker out of her son’s mouth.
“Ma’am, you’re going to have to come with us.”
I grabbed a container of bubble gum and threw it over the side. “Not until I’m done. Then, we can talk all you want.”
A second burly officer reached for my arm and I yanked it away. “Ma’am, please. You have to come with me.”
“Maybe you should listen to him, Delilah,” Chris advised.
“I’m not crazy. I know it seems like I am, but I’m not. There is a terrible game being played on this town, and I have proof.” The burly officer removed his taser from his belt. I winced and put my hands up.
“Isn’t that Teague’s girlfriend?” a third officer asked the others. I backed up to the end of the pier, cornering myself.
“We’ve been eatin’ that candy all day,” a mother complained with tears brimming in her eyes. “We ain’t felt weird or nothin’. Should we go to the hospital?”
Others joined in with similar questions, but I was indisposed.
Officer Gentry moved closer, pulled my hands behind my back, and slapped on handcuffs. My elbow throbbed in revolt. “Ma’am, I’m bringing you in for disturbing the peace and destruction of property.”
“What?” I insisted with a huff.
“Yep, she’s definitely Teague’s girlfriend,” another officer told Gentry. “Pulled the same stunt over at the Peacock.”
“Holy moly, this is different!” I declared, but I’d already lost any hope of convincing anyone.
“I’ve had a dozen pieces of candy, and I’m fine,” a man at the pumpkin table remarked, shoving another piece in his mouth.
“Me, too,” a woman at the ring toss game said. The mothers’ worried faces relaxed.
“No, listen to me!” I yelled as Gentry dragged me down the pier. “There are drugs in the candy! Drugs!”
Chris moved in beside me. “I’ll call my dad. We’ll meet you at the station. Best not to say anything else.”
“Chris, take them to the shoes,” I told him. “Then, they’ll believe me.” Chris nodded, and walked over to one of the other officers. “Don’t let them eat the candy!” I kept saying, hoping that someone, anyone would listen. But, the more I said it, the crazier I sounded, and the less people listened. It was the Peacock all over again, but worse.
Chapter Fifty
Ophelia
Shakespeare described one of his most famous characters, Ophelia, as “divided from herself and her fair judgment” and that’s how I felt. If I started singing “Hey non nonny” here in my jail cell, no one would think it strange. Just like Ophelia, my crazy was expected.
“The candy wasn’t tampered with,” Sam told me through the bars of my cell. Same cell. Different day. What kind of person was I becoming to be used to sitting in a holding cell? I sat on the uncomfortable cot, knees to chest, wondering how much worse this could get. “No one has reported any symptoms of poisoning, just common sugar rushes.” Sam tried to smile.
“I’m glad everyone’s okay, but I don’t get it,” I fumed.
“You were wrong, that’s all,” Sam replied. He looked tired and irritated. I couldn’t blame him.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Don’t be. We’ll get out of this,” he assured me, though maybe he was just trying to convince himself. The tiny lines under his eyes told me that he was flustered and exhausted. I wished I could rewind my life. I should have never left the store or the apartment for that matter. Or I should have left the shoebox closed and called him instead. I wished I’d stopped to think. If only life could be operated like a VCR or DVD or DVR… whatever letters go with my meaning.
Sam breathed out heavily. “After reading your journal, I can see how you’d make the leap from the drugs in the shoes to the candy. Everything pointed to a grand act of hatred, something epic – just like he said.”
I shook my head. “He’s misusing that word. I’ve heard him use it twice, but he doesn’t get it. While it could refer to size, and I’m sure that’s what he’s thinking, it’s more than that. Epic comes from epos, which means word, speech or poem. It also means heroic. There’s nothing poetic or heroic about Ricky Wakefield. He may not have poisoned the candy, but he had some evil design for today.”
Sam smirked and leaned against the bars. “Seems an odd place to be worried about semantics.”
I shrugged. “That’s what jail gives you, right? Time to think?”
“You won’t have much time in there,” Sam noted. “Lucius Kayne is here arguing your charges with Kent as we speak.”
My eyes squinted together. “That was fast.”
“Helps to have friends in high places,” Sam decided. “Chris asked him to come and help you. And knowing how he works, you’ll be out shortly.”
I winced. “That’s good news, I guess. Not sure I want him fighting for me.”
Sam nodded. “Me, neither.”
I moved off the cot and over to Sam, where I laid my fingers on his, clasped between bars. “I really am sorry.”
He grinned. “Told you. I don’t care how many times you get arrested.”
“Bet you didn’t think I’d put that promise to the test, did you?” I kidded.
“Actually, I did,” he laughed. Then, on a more serious note, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. The discovery of the shoes and what was hidden in them is going to be enough to earn back some credibility. The shoes tie all of the robberies together. Valerie Kent and Bobby Keller, the tourist from Cleveland, bought Nikes from Molly Tubbs. We’re bringing her in for questioning.”
“And, what you’re going to find out is that she no longer has any shoes,” I told him. “All of this started with Backwoods Buddy-”
The door scraped open and Lucius Kayne stepped into the holding cell area. He carried a briefcase and a sour expression. Chris followed behind him, along with Kent and a uniformed officer.
“Don’t say another word, Ms. Duffy,” Kayne told me. “The charges have been dropped. Let’s not give them any more ammunition.”
“Dropped?” I repeated dumbly. “You’re kidding.”
“I don’t kid,” Kayne said with a shake of his head. “Release her right away.” His backwoods British accent made everything sound friendly even if his words and expression weren’t.
The uniformed officer unlocked my cell, and I went to Sam’s side.
Kent angrily ordered, “Teague, my office. Now.”
“The charges were insulting anyway,” Lucius Kayne continued as Kent and Sam left the room. “Judges get angry when their time is wasted with piddle like disturbing the peace. The destruction of property charge was more serious, but Kent agreed to let that go. He was more lenient with you than I expected. Of course, you may be facing a civil suit-”
The uniformed officer held the door open for us, and w
e all exited the cell room. I followed Kayne to the main group of offices. “A civil suit?” I repeated.
“TIBA’s pissed,” Chris told me.
With an amused expression, Lucius continued, “Your outburst ended Octoberfest.”
My shoulders fell, and the heavy weight of Clara’s fury (rightful this time) settled on my conscience. “And it’s already made the news,” Chris added, a grin forming on his mouth as he pointed up to a mounted television set in the corner of the room. As if he’d planned it, the newscasters were running a story about the failed Tipee Island event.
“The tourists are gone. The vendors have packed up. Halloween was over before it even started,” Lucius went on in a business-like fashion. “Parents are afraid to send them out for candy and quite frankly, the children aren’t too keen on going anyway.”
Though all of this was horrible news, something worse rapt my attention. Through the windows of Kent’s office, I could see his red-faced anger coming down on Sam, who stood there, back to me. Sam was being browbeaten over his crazy girlfriend.
“Thanks for your help,” I said to the Kaynes. “I can take it from here.” I left them standing there and went to Kent’s office. I didn’t knock before entering, but I quickly closed the door behind me and stood next to Sam with my hands on my hips. I probably looked a lot like my mother.
“Get out of my office,” Kent ordered me.
“Why are you getting on his case?” I demanded. “If you should be mad at anyone, it should be me.”
“Delilah, I don’t need-” Sam started to say.
“I’m the one who ruined Octoberfest,” I butted in. “I raised a false alarm. I scared all the children in Tipee. I don’t care if you do charge me with something. I’ve caused all sorts of trouble here, but Sam didn’t do anything. So, if you want to yell, aim it at me.”
Kent sat down at his desk, and regained a semblance of his composure. “Ms. Duffy, you better leave or I will have you arrested again, no matter what Lucius Kayne has to say about it.”
“No, you won’t,” I insisted. “I know I made a promise to you, but I can break it just as easy, which is why you let me off the hook in the first place. Right?” Kent’s eyes flashed red, but he stopped himself from arguing. “You have no reason to yell at Sam. He’s not to blame for this.”
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