A Finder's Fee

by Joyce

  Once the camera was rolling again, David smiled and explained the basic story of what had happened. “This is Mayor Dae O’Donnell, who was out looking for historical artifacts for her antique shop, Missing Pieces. She actually found what was left of a murder victim buried in an old race car. Did you know the dead man, Mayor?”

  “No. Whatever happened to him was forty years ago, before I was born.” I remembered not to look right at the camera, advice I’d been given years ago.

  “Building has stopped on the new Duck town hall, Mayor O’Donnell. Still, you felt like it was important to get this car out of the ground. Why was that?”

  It seemed obvious to me, but past experience had taught me that reporters many times asked questions with obvious answers. “Well, completing the new town hall couldn’t take priority over the fact that a man had been buried at that site. His family has been looking for him for four decades.”

  “A Duck city council member is accused of murdering the man in the car, is that right?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s correct.”

  “And the accused, Councilman Randal ‘Mad Dog’ Wilson, is also your opponent in a close contest to be the next mayor of Duck. Is that also correct, Madam Mayor?”

  I wasn’t sure where he was going, but I had a bad feeling about it. “That’s true but—”

  “Finding the car opened the field for you in this election only a short time away. That didn’t have anything to do with you looking for the car, did it?”

  There it was. You had to be careful or an interview could bite you in the butt. If this man who wasn’t even from Duck was thinking about me making the vote go in my favor, probably a lot of people in Duck were too.

  “I don’t want to win the election this way. Councilman Wilson has always worked hard for Duck. He’s a good man.”

  “Still, the guilty must be punished.” He looked at the camera. “There is no statute of limitations for murder, even in a small town that didn’t notice it had happened for a lifetime. Reporting from Duck, NC, this is David Engel, Channel Two News on scene.”

  The interview was over and both men thanked me for my time. It was hollow praise since we all knew it had made me look bad.

  Maggie’s words spilled out of my mouth. “You two handsome gentlemen should stay for a nice warm cup of tea. And maybe we can find some other things to talk about.”

  David looked at his cameraman. “We have to be going now, Mayor. Thanks for the invitation.”

  I saw them out of the shop and closed the door behind them. “You know, we talked about this,” I said to Maggie. “You can’t start talking like that. I have to live here.”

  “You’re too uppity,” she chastised me. “It’s a wonder you have a man at all. I hate to leave you in these poor circumstances.”

  “Yeah, well, quit trying to help.”

  I ignored her, hoping I would find time very soon to be rid of her. My life was complicated enough without a flirty, four-hundred-year-old tavern wench trying to hook up with every man we saw.

  It was hard to believe everyone thought Mad Dog being accused of murder gave me some kind of edge in the election. They knew nothing about small-town politics. When word got around that I’d found the car, many people who had been planning to vote for me wouldn’t, simply because they’d think it was an unfair advantage.

  Part of me felt like I should bow out of the election. It was always going to feel uncomfortable. People would say I only won because Mad Dog was accused of murder. That felt difficult to bear for the next two years.

  Mad Dog had used all his little tricks and some underhanded distractions to try to win the election, yet nothing he’d done had equaled this.

  But there wasn’t anyone else. The council would have to appoint someone, a person not chosen by the people of Duck, and wait for another election. I didn’t like that idea either.

  “Perhaps this is the very reason you should disprove this man’s guilt, if you are able,” Maggie reminded me.

  I suppose I agreed. But what if Mad Dog was guilty of murder? What then?

  Chapter 9

  I went through the clothes and household goods that were in the shop. I made a big pile of items that might be good for the bazaar and boxed them up. It helped keep my mind off of things I couldn’t do anything about.

  After lunch, with the sun warming the boardwalk, a few customers came in. One woman was looking for a fancy dress for her daughter in high school. We looked through the secondhand clothes and found a powder blue dress with silver sequins on it. I had a coupon for thirty percent off at Sunflower Fancy across the road that she could use for shoes.

  It was lucky that Darcy, the shop’s owner, stayed open until Christmas. It wasn’t a big sale, but I could tell from the smile on the woman’s face that it was an important one. I liked selling to people who enjoyed what they’d bought.

  A man came in a little later looking for something with some pirate lore. He was in Sanderling for business, and the hotel clerk had recommended Missing Pieces as the place to go. I didn’t know the young man from the hotel, but I planned to send him a thank-you card. Referrals were the best.

  I’d found a very nice piece of scrimshaw that resembled a whale. It had a local background to it. Big Dan Russell was a privateer with a heart of gold, according to the stories. He was the Robin Hood of the Outer Banks, robbing wealthy merchants to distribute their gold to the less fortunate.

  The little I could pick up from touching the scrimshaw made him feel like he was a real hero—and good-looking to boot.

  It was valuable, but I also thought it might make an interesting gift. Looking up information on how sailors had carved walrus, narwhal and other bones would make a good project too. Because of its rarity, I couldn’t let it go for a small amount of money.

  Would this man pay what I was asking?

  It was easier to tell with women. I usually knew instinctively by how they acted with something they were interested in. Men were harder to figure out. They didn’t walk around the shop touching things then circle back when something took their fancy.

  I looked at the smiling man in front of me. He was well dressed, well-groomed. He might be the right person for this find. Or it might be something he wouldn’t appreciate.

  “I might have something for you. How old is your son?”

  “He’s twelve. Danny is quite the pirate buff. I’m hoping to bring him down here over the summer.”

  Danny. That seemed like a good omen to me. I took out the scrimshaw and the box I’d found for it. The wood box I’d recovered it in had fallen apart, but the new one made a great presentation of it.

  “Wow. It’s scrimshaw, right?” He looked up at me. “And this really belonged to a pirate?”

  “It belonged to Big Dan Russell, a well-known privateer. He was one of the most feared pirates of this area in the 1800s. The people who lived here loved him. The Spanish, French and even the American governments put a huge bounty on his head. He was never caught, and some people here claim him as a relative. Most of the people from Duck have pirates in their background.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?” He hadn’t taken his eyes from it. “Doesn’t it have sentimental meaning for you?”

  I smiled when I thought of all the things I’d recovered that had belonged to interesting people. I would never sell any of them, but I had to pay rent and power on my shop too.

  “I have sentimental feelings for a lot of things I’ve collected in here,” I confessed. “My grandfather won’t let me keep everything I find, so I have to part with some of it. A piece like this only goes to the right person.”

  “I’ll take it.” He took a credit card out of his wallet and put it on the counter. “Can you gift wrap it and give me some ideas for books where we could look things up?” He also took out his business card.

  “I can defin
itely do that.” I rang up the sale and he didn’t even blink. He was the right person for the scrimshaw. I could almost hear Big Dan Russell chuckling about it. I gift wrapped the box and handed it to him. It was enough money to keep me and Missing Pieces going through the winter. I also sent him to the museum for research material.

  Feeling celebratory, I closed early and hurried home through the late-afternoon sunshine while it lasted. It was going to be a cold night and I didn’t want to be out walking after dark.

  Besides, Jake was coming to pick me up for dinner and to check out his historical find. I was looking forward to being with him and the excitement of seeing something new that might not have been seen for hundreds of years.

  I wasn’t planning on dressing up or doing anything special besides trying to stay warm that night. I knew everyone would read something into whatever I did with Jake. I didn’t see a problem with having dinner with him at his house, despite Nancy and Gramps believing he was romantically interested in me. I felt confident that Jake and I were just friends.

  He was hot, no doubt about it. So were other men I knew. Kevin and I were together. That was enough for me.

  I got home and the house was quiet. Gramps was playing bingo before the Lions Club meeting. He wouldn’t be home until much later.

  Treasure was walking around, complaining about being left alone for so long. He wasn’t happy about it when he found out that I was leaving again right away.

  I fed him and stroked his plush black fur while he ate. He stopped eating, and his huge green eyes looked up at me. It was as though he’d said out loud, “Beautiful.”

  I knew it wasn’t possible, as I knew all those other thoughts I attributed to him weren’t real. He was very human sometimes. I felt like I understood him.

  He followed me upstairs and watched from the bed as I changed clothes. I put on jeans and a thick green sweater. My grandmother had knitted it for my mother, who’d passed it down to me. It was so soft and warm, the color of spring leaves. When I wore it, it made me feel the years of family love behind me.

  I looked at myself in the mirror, my short sun-tipped brown hair messed up from putting on the sweater. My blue eyes were dark suddenly and I heard Maggie laughing.

  “Faith, I cannot believe this is what you wish to wear when you go to see that handsome man tonight. You appear to me a boy in those trousers. Surely you have something more feminine.”

  “He’s a friend, and I don’t want him to think of me as being feminine.” It was hard to explain to her. “This is how we dress today, especially when it’s casual and you go out with a friend.”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He is not thinking of you as anything but a beauty to grace his bed. Exactly what a man should think when he looks at a woman. If my Thomas didn’t look at me that way, I would find me another.”

  “Please stay out of this tonight.” I remembered what she’d said the last time I saw Jake. “No sudden, impulsive words, if you don’t mind. Could you move so I could do my hair?”

  “Aye, I’ll move. Remember, I wouldn’t be here if you had already reunited me with my Thomas instead of all these other things you do. It is not as though I want to be here.”

  Treasure meowed loudly, hissed and ran out of the room. I looked at my face in the mirror. Maggie’s reflection stared back at me. I tried to coax Treasure back, but he wouldn’t listen.

  When I turned back to the mirror again, I looked like myself.

  A shiver of fear ran through me, colder than the night outside. I’d realized from the beginning that there was some danger involved in trying to help Maggie. I didn’t have to be a witch to know that it was possible that I could be lost in one of those personality transfers. I might not be able to find my way back again through that portal that separated Maggie and me.

  This was the only way to get her where she belonged. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my resolve to see it through.

  There was a knock on the door downstairs. I switched off the light in the bedroom and went down to meet Jake.

  “I hope your truck is running.” I opened the front door. “I don’t think I can ride a horse through all this cold.”

  Of course it was Kevin. I knew I had nothing to feel bad about, still I felt a little guilty anyway. Maybe I should have mentioned my dinner with Jake to Kevin. “Sorry. I was expecting someone else.”

  “I noticed. Someone with a horse. Still seeing the cowboy from Corolla?”

  I didn’t like the way he’d said seeing. Obviously, Nancy or Trudy or both had been talking. “He asked me if I’d come out and take a look at some artifacts he found on his property.”

  “I see.” Kevin smiled. “I heard you were going to Manteo to interview Councilman Wilson tomorrow. I tried to call your cell phone and offer to take you out there. Maybe we could have lunch somewhere besides my place for a change.”

  “That sounds great, but I already promised Mrs. Wilson I’d let her son drive me there. She wanted to pay me. I couldn’t accept that. I think she might be upset if I don’t let Amos drive. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I’d like your opinion on where I should put the desk you gave me—when you get a chance. Call me, Dae.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, dearie,” Maggie impulsively reassured him. I saw her smiling face in the tiny mirror near the door. “She’ll be giving you a call.”

  Kevin lifted his left brow over a question that lurked in his gray blue eye. “Dae?”

  “We’ll do something tomorrow when I get back.” I rushed past that instant when I didn’t sound like myself.

  Another pickup had pulled into the drive. I knew it was Jake. Talk about awkward moments.

  “When you get to it,” Kevin called back as he walked away. “Burleson.”

  Jake’s low, sultry voice said, “Boyfriend,” from the dark.

  There definitely was a hint of strain in Kevin’s voice, though not in Jake’s. Did Kevin believe whatever Nancy and Trudy might have said? I hoped not. I planned to set him straight, as soon as I got back from Manteo tomorrow.

  I closed the front door and walked out to Jake’s truck. Maybe I should’ve offered to let Kevin come with us to look at the artifacts. I hadn’t thought of it until it was too late.

  “Evening, Miss Dae,” Jake drawled when I was in the truck with him. “I should warn you that this truck doesn’t have seat belts. I’ve got some nice hemp rope in the back I could tie you in with if that would make you feel safer.”

  Maggie was positively giddy. “Oh yes! I would feel ever so much safer if you tied me up with some good stout rope.”

  “Shh!” I warned her and smiled at Jake. “I mean, there’s no need for rope. Thanks.”

  “Are you okay, Dae?” His gaze was curious.

  “Fine. I’m fine. It’s been a confusing day.”

  He let it go, thank goodness, and we settled in for the ride.

  Jake’s pickup was at least twenty years older than Kevin’s, and Kevin’s wasn’t new. I was pretty sure I could see the driveway through some cracks in the floorboard, and most of the metal appeared to be rusting away. Still, it was better than a horse.

  He laughed and started the old pickup after several tries. The engine kind of wheezed as it was going down the road, but it kept going.

  “I’ve been working all day with these artifacts. I can’t describe it exactly. I’ve never seen anything like it. I hope you’ll know what they are and can give me some clues about what I should do.”

  He described a little about the project. It sounded like one of those old pottery finds that happened occasionally out here where a small settlement used to be. It seemed like every historical feature should have already been found on our island. There was only so much land between the Atlantic and the sounds that separated us from the mainland.

  Yet there were always new finds—either above or below the
water. There had been inhabitants on this hundred-mile stretch of land long before the white explorers had come. Between the natives, the pirates and the settlers, there were plenty of items to find.

  I’d forgotten how dark Highway Twelve was after passing all of the stores and houses at that end of the island. I wasn’t out there much at night. The high dunes seemed to close off the road from everything else. It was like being transported into another world.

  I wouldn’t have been able to find Jake’s place in the dark. There were no lights at the house or on the driveway, nothing to say that there was anything back on the rutted, sandy road. The pickup headlights wavered and almost went dark a few times as the tires negotiated the curves.

  “It gets dark out here.” Jake kept his hands on the wheel. “Maybe I should think about putting in some lights. I run what I can from my generator. I don’t like to waste the gasoline. But I know it doesn’t look like much of a place to have company.”

  I’d been to Jake’s house a few times in the day. He liked to live off the grid, as he called it. He made everything he could, including his own electricity, and grew most of his food. He bartered for what he and his horses needed. The Wild Horse Association paid him a stipend to care for sick and injured wild horses from the herds.

  “It’s too late to try and impress me,” I said. “I’ve been here before.”

  He laughed and stopped the pickup as we reached the house that suddenly appeared in the headlights. I was afraid the pickup might not start again. It sounded like it had wheezed its last.

  “I love your sense of humor,” he fired back. “At least I hope you weren’t serious.”

  Dinner turned out to be scrambled eggs we made in his tiny kitchen. The eggs were covered with chili and cheese. Jake loved things spicy. He’d almost emptied a bottle of Texas Pete at my house each time he’d had dinner there.

  I wasn’t much for spicy food and gasped when I tasted his chili.

  “Here. Eat some cornbread. Drinking water won’t help.”