by Joyce
“Is that what I think it is?” He grinned. “I don’t think it’s my birthday yet.”
“Lucky you, it doesn’t have to be.” I gave him a quick kiss and kept my tone light.
As the man was unstrapping the desk, Kevin walked me away from the dock. “This is kind of pricey, isn’t it?”
“I got a really good deal on it.” It wasn’t the truth—the seller wouldn’t take a penny less than the asking price of five thousand. But I hoped my little white lie would make Kevin feel better. “I knew you wanted it, so I jumped on it. I guess it’s your birthday, Fourth of July and Christmas present wrapped into one.”
“This is nothing to do with the fine from town, right? The desk was listed at five thousand dollars—exactly the price of the fine. No coincidence there?”
“Maybe a little one.” I hugged him. “I wanted to say thank you for everything. I hope you like it.”
He searched my eyes for several long seconds as though he might be able to fathom whether I was telling the truth. Finally he laughed. “I don’t know what I’m worried about. I know you don’t have that kind of money. You must’ve done some extensive bartering. Thank you, Dae. I appreciate it.”
It wasn’t exactly the same as giving him the five thousand dollars to pay the fine. On the other hand, it was a nice trade, since he’d admired the old desk for months. And it was the only way I could think of to do any sort of reparation for what had happened. My trader instincts told me our score was settled. That would have to be good enough.
After the desk was unloaded, I thanked the man from Charleston for bringing it so quickly. Before we came here, we’d already settled the money with the envelope full of cash that Dillon had dropped off at the shop for me. I had left nothing to chance.
Kevin and I walked inside to see where the best place would be for the desk. Ann and Betsy were on their way downstairs with luggage in hand.
“Let me help with that.” Kevin grabbed the suitcases and took them outside to his pickup.
“You’re leaving?” I tried not to sound as relieved as I felt. Shayla and her grandmother were bad enough trying to discover the witch. I didn’t need Ann trying to figure things out as well.
“Betsy’s mother wants her back today,” Ann said. “Since nothing seems to be going on besides a routine forty-year-old murder, I thought I might as well go home too.”
“How’s your psychic detective agency working out?”
“First of all, I’m not a detective. I’m a consultant. We make way more money. And it’s going well. The FBI has thrown a few cases my way. That, and some back pay they owed me, has set me up. You should come see me. You’d like New York.”
“I’ll put that on my list of things to do before I die.”
She smiled a little in her sardonic way. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Stay out of trouble, if you can. Don’t lead Kevin into temptation. He can’t resist a good witch hunt.”
Betsy hugged me. “I’m glad you’re okay, Dae. I was really worried. I’m sorry everybody thought you were a witch.”
“Thanks. I’m so glad you came with Ann to save me. It’s nice to know I have friends in faraway places.”
“I could tell you weren’t a witch right away,” Betsy continued. “You were dirty but you sure weren’t ugly or green.”
“That’s right. I wasn’t ever green, was I?” I hugged her again and laughed. “Tell your mother hello for me. Do well in school. Maybe you can come back during the summer when the weather is nice.”
“That would be fun. I’d like to go to the beach and look for pirate treasure.”
“We might be able to find some too. There’s some pirate gold in the museum next door. We’ll go take a look at it next time you come.”
The good-byes were said and Betsy was settled in the middle of the pickup seat between Kevin and Ann.
Ann squinted at me a little as she closed the truck door. She reminded me of Flourine. “Take care of yourself, unless you want me to make regular visits. You’re a part of my soul now. You can’t hide anything from me.”
Maggie daringly switched places with me and giggled.
I held my breath and pushed her back. What was she thinking? I didn’t want Ann to change her plans and join Shayla’s efforts to out the witch. “Thanks, I think.”
“That’s the only reason I’m leaving so soon.” Ann seemed not to even notice the switch. “I know I could feel if there was anything in you besides one hundred percent Dae O’Donnell. Good luck in the election, although I guess you don’t really need it now.”
Kevin waved to me as they started out toward the airport. “Sorry I have to go right away. I didn’t know you were bringing the desk. Maybe you can come back later and we’ll check out the best place for the desk with dinner.”
“I have an appointment later. I know this was a surprise. We’ll get to it when you can.”
He closed the window and I watched the old pickup drive away. I took a deep breath when they were gone. That stunt of Shayla’s last night with the mirror hadn’t been anything. I was a little nervous that Ann was capable of so much more.
Still, she and Betsy had come to rescue me with my friends in Duck. How much better could things be than that?
“You took quite a chance back there,” I warned Maggie. “This could be bad for both of us if we get caught.”
“I’m sorry, Dae. But how could you stand her saying that to you when it is so untrue? I had to laugh at her.”
“Well, pray thee do not do it again.” I shook my head. “Just don’t take those chances.”
I got in the golf cart to drive it back home, humming some music and feeling happy with the day. I planned to drop off the cart for Gramps in case he needed it and then walk to the shop. I got a surprise when I found a strange car in the drive at home.
I knew most of Gramps’s friends drove golf carts. I knew the vehicles of the few who didn’t. It wasn’t a police or sheriff’s car, so there was no trouble. I parked the cart near the garage and went inside to see what was going on.
Gramps was pouring coffee and already had a few oatmeal cookies on the kitchen table. Laura Wilson—Mad Dog’s wife—was there, smiling at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed with crying and her hand was unsteady as she took a mug from him.
“Hi, Mrs. Wilson.” I took off my jacket and hoped she wasn’t there to yell at me about finding the race car. “I’m so sorry about what’s happened to Councilman Wilson.”
Laura Wilson wasn’t flashy or flamboyant like her husband. She looked like someone’s grandmother, which she was, many times over. Her gray hair was nicely coiffed by Trudy every week, and her brown eyes were steady and calm. She’d worked for Dare County as a clerk for many years before retiring.
“Hello, Dae. I hope I’m not interrupting anything you and your grandfather had planned.”
Gramps shrugged his shoulders under his red flannel shirt and black suspenders when I caught his eye. He was wearing his tall boots, so I knew he must’ve been on the way out when Mrs. Wilson stopped in.
“No, of course not.” I sat down at the table with her. “Is there something we can do for you? I know this has to be a terrible time for you and your family.”
I was still hoping she wasn’t going to go off about the election and the murder investigation. I was cringing at the idea of handling that from her, especially at this moment. She was tortured, and I felt responsible in some ways, even though finding old number twelve hadn’t been part of my plan. It couldn’t lead to anything good.
Mrs. Wilson kept her composure. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor, Dae. I know it’s a lot to ask, but all of us—Randal’s family and close friends—we believe he’s innocent of this terrible crime. We can’t think of any way to prove it.”
Gramps sat down and ate some cookies, washing them down with a big swig of coffee. “What can we do, Laura? Of course we
’d be glad to be of service.”
Mrs. Wilson dabbed her eyes with a clean white handkerchief. “Well, we were wondering if Dae would be willing to drive down to Manteo and talk to Randal. You probably don’t remember this, Dae, but I came to you once looking for an overdue library book that I’d lost. The fine was already quite high. You held my hands—you couldn’t have been more than five or six at the time—and you found that book for me. I was so impressed with your gift. Your mother wouldn’t let me give you any money, but I had a sucker in my pocketbook and she let me give you that.”
She was right. I didn’t remember. There had been many such incidents in my childhood. I understood what she was asking. She wanted me to use the same gift that had put her husband in jail to find him innocent of the crime.
Gramps nibbled on a cookie silently, letting me make that decision. I appreciated the gesture, but there was only one answer I could give her.
“Of course I’ll talk to Councilman Wilson. I don’t know for sure that I can help, but I’ll be glad to try.”
Chapter 8
We worked out the arrangements to go to Manteo tomorrow. Mrs. Wilson insisted that she’d have someone drive me there and back and pay my expenses, but I’m not a professional psychic like Ann.
I agreed to let her son, Amos, drive me, since our old car didn’t get out much and I would’ve had to line up a ride with someone there and back. I refused to take money for expenses from her. It was a deal-breaker if she wanted my help. She finally agreed.
I knew it wasn’t my fault that the old race car was buried there. It would’ve been found later when they’d started drilling the new geothermal hole, no matter what.
Mad Dog and I had been fierce competitors during the last year. We’d both said some things that weren’t very pleasant. It felt like an unfair way to win by contributing, no matter in how small a way, to my opponent going to jail. Even if he was found innocent in time for the elections, his reputation might be ruined.
Maybe I didn’t feel guilty so much as responsible.
I would’ve helped the family even if the election hadn’t happened. They were part of Duck. And like a lot of people in town, I didn’t want to believe Mad Dog was guilty of killing Lightning Joe Walsh.
Gramps and Mrs. Wilson were still talking about the good old days when I said good-bye and left to go to Missing Pieces. I didn’t take Treasure with me, since he was licking his lips and waiting patiently for a little cream from Gramps when he was finished with his coffee. For a man who’d never wanted a pet, Gramps had sure done a great job of spoiling the cat.
I left the golf cart at home and walked to the Duck Shoppes. A stiff wind had picked up, rattling the bushes and blowing trash along the road. I reminded myself to put in an order for the public works people to do some trash patrol. It was probably coming from people not putting the lids down tight on their trash cans.
The first thing I noticed as I walked into the parking lot was a TV news crew from Virginia Beach. A van was parked outside the coffee shop.
I saw Chris and Jamie talking to two people—one with a microphone and the other with a video camera. It seemed Duck was going to get some attention for the odd murder. The media usually wasn’t interested in us, but I knew the businesses that were still open would be happy to have them there.
I avoided the news crew and scuttled up the stairs to the boardwalk. The freezing wind was fierce coming off the sound. I was glad to slam the shop door on it. I put on the kettle and put away my jacket and bag. It seemed unlikely that there would be any customers on a day like this, but there was always something to do.
La Donna Nelson found me there an hour later cleaning a set of 1886 silver I’d acquired a few weeks before. She was a member of the town council and Chief Michaels’s sister. She and I had always gotten along, frequently agreeing on the issues we faced as a town.
“Just in time for tea.” I put out another cup as she came in shivering. It was my third cup of the morning but who was counting?
The wind was whipping at her ankle-length brown skirt, coat and scarf. Her long grayish brown hair was pulled back from her face with a wide, knitted headband.
“I shouldn’t have put this off for so long.” She closed the door with an extra push. “The weather was better last week, but I was so busy with other things. I’ll take that tea, Dae, thanks.”
We both sat down on the burgundy brocade sofa, our hands wrapped around the warm mugs. I complimented her on the knitted headband. It had a few beads woven into it. She told me her granddaughter, who was taking textile design in college, had made them for a marketing project.
La Donna was there to scrounge up whatever I could spare for the St. Vincent’s Church annual bazaar the following week. I told her I’d find some things for her and bring them over.
Talk, of course, led to Mad Dog and everything that had happened in the last few days.
“I still don’t believe it.” Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “Randal isn’t a killer. It was so long ago—how will they ever be sure what really happened?”
“I don’t know.” I told her what little I knew about his arrest, excluding what I was supposed to keep to myself, according to Chief Michaels. He was her brother. Maybe he’d told her the rest. “I don’t know if they can be sure. So far everything is circumstantial. Mad Dog and Joe argued. Mad Dog’s car disappeared. Joe was found dead in Mad Dog’s car. That’s not much.”
“They all like to close these old cases. I know Ronnie does. I’m sure your grandfather was the same. It’s like birthday and Christmas rolled into one.”
“It’s so weird after hearing all those old stories about Mad Dog’s racing career. It didn’t seem real to me, I guess, because it happened before I was born. Looking down in that hole and seeing the number twelve car was like seeing a mermaid or something.”
La Donna frowned. “You’re making me feel really old. Stop now.” She took a sip of tea and gazed across the store. “Lightning Joe Walsh has been a legend for the last forty years, and all this time he’s been down there under the sand, dead.”
We both shivered as the wind whistled by. It was a terrible thing to think he’d been down there with no one knowing.
“Did you ever meet him?” I sipped my tea, trying to get out of that weird, melancholy mood.
“That would be dating me, wouldn’t it?” She smiled. “But yes, I met him. He was dashing and romantic. He’d race onto the track after Mad Dog had beaten all the other drivers. We’d watch for him and clap when we saw him. He was Elvis and all those other faraway celebrities to us.”
“Did you know who he was? It sounded like no one knew his identity.”
“After the first time he came out on the track, we all knew him, and loved him. I was president of his fan club for a while.”
“Sounds to me like you were smitten,” Maggie said with no warning that we were changing places.
I put my hand over my mouth. What would La Donna think?
“Yes, I was. What an odd way to say it, Dae. I think dealing with all these antiques is affecting you.”
I sighed in relief. Another disaster avoided. What part of not making me blurt out her thoughts didn’t Maggie understand?
The tea was gone and La Donna said she had to go too.
“I guess we would’ve found him eventually.” She put on her coat and scarf. “What led you there, Dae? I know you have a gift for finding things. But what made you look there of all places?”
I was struggling with a suitable answer when the shop door burst open again. The two newspeople I’d seen at the coffee shop blew in with the cold breeze.
“We’re looking for Mayor Dae O’Donnell,” the first young man said. “Are either of you her?”
“Are either of you she,” La Donna corrected with a frown. “Grammar, gentlemen, is the stage on which we communicate our lives.”
&
nbsp; “Are you . . . she then?” He rephrased his question.
“I’m sorry.” La Donna turned to me. “I hate to leave you like this, but I have to visit five more businesses before I can go home. I’ll see you later.”
The reporter’s feral eyes focused on me. “You must be the mayor.”
“Or not.” I smiled as I put our cups on the tiny counter beside the hot plate. It had to be an exasperating job trying to get reticent people to talk, but I played with them anyway. “That might have been her leaving.”
“You’re the mayor all right.” He urged his partner with the camera forward. “I’m David Engel from Channel Two News. I’m here to talk with you about the race car you found buried underground. What made you dig there for it, Mayor O’Donnell? We understand that’s the site of the new town hall building. How did you know the car would be there?”
The same question La Donna had asked. It was bound to come up. I could only avoid people for so long. Obviously I needed a good stock answer that was general enough to make everybody happy without going into the real reason.
The Channel Two News team wasn’t from Duck, so they didn’t know anything about my gift. I told them I had heard something of historical value to the town might be buried there.
“I wanted to check before the town hall was built. As you can see, I’m very involved with history. I’m a member of the Duck Historical Museum too.”
It was actually a good answer—boring enough to ensure outsiders wouldn’t come to dig up the area, interesting enough to make the camera pan over the whole shop. Maybe enough to bring in a few new customers.
David feigned interest in the shop too. “So you’re a collector and an antique dealer. That explains it.” He nodded to the cameraman who’d stopped filming. “That’s enough extra footage. I’d like to actually interview you, if that’s okay.”
I looked at the camera and the other young man who held it. I’d been on TV a few other times as mayor. It didn’t bother me. “That’s fine.”
“Okay, Tonto.” David laughed. “I’m the Lone Ranger.” He held up his microphone. “We’re ready.”
