A Spirited Gift

by Joyce Lavene

  “Maybe that means we should call it a night.” He wrapped his arm around me, and we headed down Duck Road—again.

  I hated to say good night once we reached the house. He kissed me, and we clung to each other for a long time while we stood on the front porch. I was freezing, but I didn’t want the moment to end.

  “Call me if you need me,” he whispered. “I’m good at reinforcing ‘no’ if that’s what you decide.”

  “I will.” I kissed him one last time. “It’ll be okay, Kevin. However it works out.”

  Gramps met me on the way into the house. I didn’t even make it to the stairs. “Dae, we need to talk.”

  “Not right now, if you don’t mind. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “This is important, honey. Chief Michaels needs your help.”

  “I know. But I’m tired, and I don’t think I can make a decision about the gun tonight.”

  He raised his eyebrows, his only sign of surprise. “Are you reading minds now?”

  “Gramps, I knew when I heard the three of you talking in the kitchen. Kevin knew too. You aren’t very good at keeping secrets.”

  He sat down in his chair, ignoring his favorite dancing show on TV. “But you’ll do it?”

  “I think so. But not because it’s my duty. I’d like to know who killed Sandi. And this might be the best way to find out.”

  “I understand.”

  “And while we’re talking”—I squared my shoulders like a prizefighter preparing for a bout—“I’ve been spending time with Danny—my father. He doesn’t know yet that I’m his daughter. But I plan to tell him.”

  “I think that’s a mistake.” He shook his head. “But you’ll have to make that call—and live with the consequences.”

  “I know. I really think he’s changed, Gramps. And I’d like to have him over for dinner one night.”

  “I suppose you would.” He stroked his white beard. “But I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. Maybe someday.”

  “It’s been thirty-six years, Gramps. That’s a long time to hold a grudge.”

  “You didn’t see the look on your mother’s face when he abandoned her. Or know that he killed your grandmother as sure as if he’d held a gun to her head. I know I had my part in all this too. God knows I’m no saint, and maybe I was wrong about what I did. But he could’ve stayed. I wouldn’t have left you because someone threatened me. Or he could’ve led a decent life that was fit for your mother and you. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for taking your mother’s innocence and leaving her to suffer. Not even for you, Dae.”

  Well, I’d wanted the truth out between us. I realized Gramps had his own truth about things too. Just because I wanted to know Danny—as my father—didn’t mean Gramps wanted to know him at all. I had to respect that.

  I hugged him to let him know it was okay. “You took that news way too well, you know. You’d already heard about me and Danny, right?”

  He shrugged. “Duck is a small town, honey. A lot of people around here have long memories.”

  I knew that was true—and had no doubt that Chief Michaels had told Gramps what was going on, for my own good. “Good night. Have someone bring the gun to Missing Pieces tomorrow. I’ll look at it there.”

  “Thanks, Dae. I love you, honey.”

  I went up to bed, but my dreams were restless. I was again that cabin boy who had been ordered to swim for his life.

  He was lying on a beach—washed up after so long that he wasn’t sure he was going to make it. He opened his eyes and looked around, surprised to find that he was alive and that he had managed to escape Rafe.

  He had no idea where he was or where he would go. His parents were long dead. There was no one to care if he lived or died. That was what had taken him to the pirates in the first place. He sat on the sand, his clothes crackling with dried saltwater, his skin puckered like a briny pickle.

  The sun was hot overhead. He knew he had to find shelter, something to eat and drink if he wanted to stay alive. He already felt sick and weak. If he was going to survive to get his revenge on Rafe Masterson, he had to get up and find somewhere to recover.

  He stumbled to his feet, and as he did, a huge black horse raced past him, knocking him down. He coughed into the sand, not knowing if he could get up again.

  To his surprise, the horse turned around and a woman dressed in a lavish blue velvet riding habit with flowing white lace at her throat and wrists jumped down to check on him.

  She was beautiful—like an angel with her crystal blue eyes and black hair. She ran her hands over his arms and legs with a serious frown on her face. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Poor thing. You look nigh starved to death.”

  Another horse came up behind them and a man climbed quickly down. “You shouldn’t stop for rabble, your ladyship,” he told her. “These urchins are everywhere. They call themselves Bankers, and they prey on anything that moves. You’re not safe here.”

  The beautiful lady shot to her feet. “This child can’t prey on anyone, Mr. Fipps. I knocked him down with Vulcan. See that he gets to my uncle’s estate safely. I want him nursed back to health. Is that clear?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Lady Forester. Right away.” He knelt close to him and whispered, “This is your lucky day, whelp. Be glad of it and give thanks.”

  Forester! Lady Suzanne Forester!

  Chapter 41

  I woke up thinking about the makeup case I’d sold and the vision I’d had from it when I first acquired it. I’d seen her son as an adult giving her the makeup case for her birthday. I felt sure this was the same boy. Even as an adult, he had similar features.

  If my dreams were right, the cabin boy that should have died trying to escape from Rafe not only survived but may also have been raised as a member of the English aristocracy. This was another piece in the puzzle that pointed to this boy being William Astor.

  It would’ve been difficult, maybe impossible, for that cabin boy to become a magistrate without some family background or a patron to get him there. I had to look further into this, even if my dreams didn’t turn out to be true.

  It was barely dawn, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. I showered, got dressed and went downstairs. Gramps was making French toast with the last of some stale bread. We spoke about repairing the windows in the house and some work he had to do on the Eleanore before he could take her back out on another chartered fishing trip.

  Neither one of us mentioned the gun or my father. I ate a slice of French toast, then walked down to Missing Pieces alone.

  I was surprised and pleased when our UPS delivery man, Stan, brought in some packages. “Morning, Dae. Things are starting to get back to normal out here, eh?”

  “I think they are. I heard the Harris Teeter finally got a big delivery today. That’s some great news. Everyone has probably eaten all the canned and dried food they can stand for a while.”

  He laughed. “My brother told me he’s been eating dried fish from last year. He’ll be first in the checkout line for sure.”

  There weren’t any customers before or after his arrival. It was depressing and one of those things that always happened when I wanted to take my mind off of something. I dusted and reorganized the shop until there was nothing else to do but wait. Finally, I went out on the boardwalk to look at the sound.

  A few seconds later, Trudy joined me on the bench. She told me her business was dead too. “People don’t worry so much about their hair and nails when they have holes in their roofs,” she said.

  “That must be one of those words of wisdom,” I agreed. “Maybe you should send it to someone and make some money.”

  “No one else would appreciate it unless they live someplace like this.” She shrugged her slender shoulders under the pink and blue nylon jacket she wore. “What’s up with you? You sound kind of down. Is it the murder thing?”

  “Yeah. Pretty much.” I didn’t tell her about the gun I was expecting. There was no reason for her to worry too. I told her instead abou
t my single big sale for the week. It was exactly the right thing to say. We talked about it through our early lunch at Wild Stallions, and she shared her new plan for making her business more successful.

  “I’m going to have a massage therapist come in once or twice a week,” she told me. “Like those full-service spas. I think it will bring in some new customers. We’ll be the queens of the Duck Shoppes boardwalk yet.”

  We both laughed and enjoyed our time together. We talked about losing Phil and the coffee shop—something we both hated.

  “Can’t you recruit a new coffee shop?” she asked. “You’re the mayor. This is a big issue for our community. Just think of how many citizens will vote for you if you bring back their triple-shot mochas. Mad Dog can’t stand up to that kind of competition.”

  “Point me in the right direction, and I’ll be all over it,” I promised. “Everyone in Duck deserves to have at least one mocha every day. And as mayor, I swear to make it happen.”

  It was all silly talk, but it was exactly what I needed—a distraction. I’d expected Chief Michaels to be at the shop first thing in the morning. Instead, here it was lunchtime, and there had been no sign of him. I’d been prepared for his visit when I left the house this morning, but now my resolve about touching the gun was beginning to wear thin.

  We finally decided we’d wasted enough time and paid our bills. One of Trudy’s regular clients called and asked if she had an opening for a cut and curl. Trudy rolled her pretty eyes at me as she pretended to check her empty calendar on her cell phone. “Come on in, Mrs. Flowers. I’ll make time for you,” she said.

  As we walked out of the restaurant, I saw Chief Michaels talking to August Grandin at the Duck General Store. Sheriff Riley was leaning against the railing along the boardwalk.

  “Looks like you have customers too,” Trudy said. “I guess lunch was good for both of us.”

  I agreed with her, but my heart plummeted. I felt a little sick and my hands were shaking. I thought about just saying no and not touching the gun that had killed at least three people. I thought about calling Kevin and asking him to come and get me. I wanted to run as far and fast as possible.

  Then I thought about Sandi. She hadn’t deserved to die. Her children didn’t deserve to grow up without her. I knew it wasn’t easy for Chief Michaels—let alone Sheriff Riley—to ask for my help. It had to mean they didn’t know where to go in the investigation.

  “Mayor.” Chief Michaels nodded to me as I reached him.

  “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind,” Sheriff Riley said.

  “Mayor O’Donnell, I’m glad to see you,” August began. “Did you know Phil is closing the Coffee House and Bookstore? While we might get by without the bookstore, I don’t think Duck will be the same without a coffee shop. I hope you have something in mind for this.”

  “I’m looking into it, Mr. Grandin,” I said. “I’ll let you know when there’s news.”

  “Thanks, Mayor. You always know what to do for us.” He smiled and nodded at the two lawmen. “Gentlemen.”

  “Shall we go inside?” I invited the two men in. I looked at the brown cloth bag that I felt sure held the weapon. I stiffened my backbone and told my knocking knees to cut it out. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter 42

  After the three of us were inside the shop, I closed the door and locked it. I didn’t want to worry about any customers coming in. It would be just my luck to suddenly have a few stop by after not seeing a soul but Stan all day.

  “Is that the gun?” I asked Chief Michaels.

  “Yes.” He handed me the whole bag.

  “I’m just going to sit over here and take a nap,” Sheriff Riley said with a yawn as he took a chair near the door. “I expect you know what I think of all this hoodoo stuff. If you can’t solve a case using good, God-fearing detective work, you don’t deserve to solve it.”

  “Tuck, you’re not helping matters,” Chief Michaels said. “I haven’t heard any better ideas from you. But if you have one, tell me now. Let’s go track down the killer.”

  “You know I don’t, Ronnie, or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Then shut your pie hole and let Miss Dae do her thing.”

  They both looked at me expectantly. I had a moment of performance anxiety I’d never had while finding missing change or lost cuff links. What if I couldn’t tell them anything about the murders? What if all this speculation about what would happen to me if I held the gun made me unable to see the killer?

  Chief Michaels just stood there, looking at me. Waiting. Sheriff Riley sat forward and laced his calloused fingers together. Waiting.

  I took a deep breath and opened the cloth bag. The cloth was shielding me from the weapon as if I were wearing gloves. I looked into the bag and wondered—feared—what the gun would show me.

  The weapon was surprisingly warm to the touch. Probably still holding the heat from where the chief had carried it. I turned it over in my hands and closed my eyes.

  Wild Johnny Simpson was working on a letter to the woman he loved when the door behind him opened and the killer slowly moved into the tiny room.

  “You have something of mine,” the man holding the gun whispered in the quiet hotel room. “I want it back.”

  Johnny didn’t turn around. “Yeah? You owe me money. Think of me as a pawnshop dealer. You pay me—I give it back to you.”

  “I want it now. Right here. Right now. Or the devil will be collecting your soul tonight.”

  “You don’t have the guts to shoot me. Might as well go back home. I’ll give it back to you when you pay me. Don’t come back without the money.”

  “I’m not fooling around, Johnny.”

  When Johnny ignored him, the man with the gun shot him in the back of the head. Johnny slumped over. The killer took two boxes from the desk where Johnny had been working. He didn’t wait to see if Johnny was dead—just closed the door as he left the room. The rest of the Blue Whale was empty around them. No one close enough to hear the single shot fired.

  The killer threw one of the boxes into the bushes behind the Blue Whale and took the other box with him.

  Chapter 43

  I came back to myself lying on the burgundy brocade sofa with two worried faces staring into mine. I realized I must have lost consciousness. The gun was on the floor near the door to the shop—probably where I’d dropped it.

  “Dae?” Chief Michaels whispered, chafing my hand with his. “Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

  “She needs an ambulance,” Sheriff Riley snarled. “I think she hit her head when she fell. Let me get on the line and call—”

  “No! I’m fine. No ambulance—no paramedics necessary. Sometimes it’s like this when the emotions inside something I touch are strong. But I’m fine now. Really.”

  I could hear footsteps running heavily along the boardwalk. Fists started pounding on the door and Gramps was shouting to be let in.

  “Did you call him while I was moving her over here?” Sheriff Riley demanded.

  “He’s her only living relative. What else did you expect me to do?” Chief Michaels yelled at him as he went to open the door.

  Gramps was in like a shot. He knelt beside the sofa and took my hand as the chief had. “Are you okay, honey? Do you need the paramedics?” He glared at Chief Michaels. “I can’t believe she passed out and you called me instead of the ambulance.”

  “That’s what I said,” Sheriff Riley joined in. “She needs medical attention.”

  “I don’t need anything,” I told them. “Well, maybe a cup of tea.”

  It was amusing watching all three men scramble to make one cup of tea. I wasn’t sure if my teapot and cups could handle all the clattering. Sheriff Riley and Chief Michaels kept butting up against each other. Gramps looked for sugar and I finally told him that I take honey in my tea.

  Within a few minutes, I had a cup of tepid tea in my hands. I smiled at all three men, who’d found places to sit down.

&nbs
p; Sheriff Riley wiped a red rag across his forehead. “I don’t know about you all, but I need something stiffer from Wild Stallions after this. Is this what you go through all the time?”

  I sipped my tea—glad that they were scared. “Sometimes. It all depends.”

  “We should never have asked you,” Gramps said. “I shouldn’t have asked you. I’m sorry, Dae. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I hate to ask, but did you see anything?” Chief Michaels inquired reluctantly. Sheriff Riley and Gramps looked at him like he’d grown another head. “Well, it would be a damn shame to have put her through all that and she didn’t see anything. Wouldn’t it?”

  I described Johnny’s death scene at the Blue Whale. “I’m afraid I didn’t see the killer.” I put the cup of tea on the table next to me. “But he was scared. His hand was shaking when he fired the pistol. He killed Johnny and took two wooden boxes from him. One of them was the music box Johnny had planned to give Miss Elizabeth. The other was hard to make out. I’m not sure.”

  “We already knew that gun killed Simpson,” Sheriff Riley said in a defeated way. “That’s not what we needed.”

  “I picked up a few other details that weren’t so clear.” I tried to focus on those other things, but they kept drifting out of my grasp. There was something important about the box the killer had taken with him. I just couldn’t quite see what it was. “Someone else has fired the gun twice since then. I’m sure it was a woman. I don’t know if she killed Sandi and Matthew.”

  “Did you get her name and address?” Chief Michaels had his notebook ready for the information.