by Joyce Lavene
“Even though I’m taking you away from what might be your last big money-making day this fall?”
I smiled and held his hand. “What’s a few hundred dollars? You’re paying me for this, right?”
“Yeah. Right. I got up early and made you corn muffins since I know how much you love them.”
“Mmm.” I chomped, mouth full of the delicious muffins. “And lunch? You mentioned lunch, right?”
We both heard the food delivery truck pull up to the back service area.
“Gotta run. Food waits for no man.” He picked up his supply list. “Call me if you need me. Thanks, Dae.” He kissed me and was gone.
I finished eating and put the dishes in the sink. “Time to explore!”
I figured I could walk between the downstairs ballroom and the upstairs rug cleaning—still managing to peek into a few nooks and crannies. The Blue Whale had such a rich—and sometimes tragic—history that it made me want to touch everything from doorknobs to ceiling fixtures.
I was careful what I touched and limited myself to only a few items each time. So far there hadn’t been anything emotionally overwhelming—like the diary—but I didn’t want to have any problems either.
Mostly, my visions showed elegant parties with guests eating smoked salmon canapés in glittery dresses and old-fashioned tuxedos. Other objects revealed only how they were made and delivered to the Blue Whale. But a few of the items I touched had been smuggled in—that was interesting too.
I could hear the rug-cleaning people getting started on the third floor. I left the crew replacing the ballroom window that had been destroyed during the storm and went upstairs to make sure the right rugs were being cleaned.
I hurried past the small room where Wild Johnny had been killed by Joe Endy so long ago. I’d already seen too much of that history, though I had to admit that old Bunk Whitley appeared to have told the truth about not killing Johnny.
A cold breeze swept down the hall and rattled the light fixtures in the ceiling. I looked around, but saw no sign of Rafe. I hoped he was resting in peace by now—and worried a little that I might become a ghost magnet. I had a lot of dead family members to consider.
It was a little eerie—especially when the door opened across the hall from that little room. It happened so slowly, I could almost convince myself that a strong breeze had nudged it ajar. The movement could be rationally explained. It was cold outside, and all the windows hadn’t been repaired as yet.
“There is more of gravy than of grave about you,” I quoted Dickens’s A Christmas Carol to reassure myself.
The door hadn’t swung open all the way. Somehow that comforted me enough to look in the room. The bed had been stripped down, and a huge bucket of cleaning supplies sat on the floor, waiting to be used.
I stepped in—another breeze making the crystals in the old chandelier chime together. I saw at once that my rational self had been right. The window had been broken during the storm, and the ocean breeze was coming in.
The cardboard that had been taped over the window had fallen to the carpet beneath it. I didn’t want to leave it that way, recalling my experience with the gulls flying in when we’d been looking for Sandi. Easy to fix—I went downstairs to find some tape.
The inn was fairly buzzing with noise and activity. I knew I could take care of this tiny problem for Kevin. I went into the room-size supply closet and turned on the light. The shelves held everything from cleaning supplies to extra bath products, and even rain gear was stashed here.
I found the masking tape and started back out. The tape had its own ideas, however. It dropped and rolled to the back of the closet. I had to feel around (hoping there weren’t any large spiders lurking) on the old wood floor in the dark corners beneath the shelves. I grabbed the tape finally—but something was now attached to the sticky sides.
It was a photo, or rather a chain of photos taken at one of those kiosks at the beach. I didn’t need to feel anything from it—though it was curious that I didn’t. Each of the four images was slightly different, but they were all of the same couple. Matthew and Marissa. Happy. Smiling. Kissing.
Chapter 48
This doesn’t mean she killed him, I thought. But it made all the pieces fit together. I sensed that a woman had killed Sandi when I touched the gun. Marissa was at the Blue Whale that night. Joe may have lied or forgotten that the pistol was still in the house. People who were guilty sometimes passed polygraphs. All of this made her look more like a suspect.
I wasn’t sure what to do with the photo—besides the obvious. After everything else, I didn’t want to be the one to openly accuse Marissa of murder. Especially since the police had already cleared her.
Deciding to wait until Kevin was finished with his food delivery, I put the picture in my pocket and started back upstairs. Maybe together Kevin and I could decide what should be done. My insides were churning. I felt like I was going to be sick.
I took some deep breaths as I reached the first-floor landing. I had to focus on taping the cardboard back in place so the gulls didn’t fly in and make even more work. I tried to let go of all the unknown possibilities.
My mind wouldn’t cooperate. Marissa was obviously the girlfriend I’d suspected Matthew had. She’d killed Sandi to get her out of the way so Matthew’s career wouldn’t be hurt.
But why kill Matthew? She’d done so much to clear the way to be with him. Had she confessed to killing Sandi and he’d rejected her? The questions were burning up my brain.
At the third-floor landing, I stopped to look out of the window. The food delivery truck was still there. How long did it take to deliver food anyway? I couldn’t wait forever to tell someone about the photo.
I forced myself to think about fixing that window. My feet dragged as I went down the hall. I could hear the rug cleaners talking as they took a break at the other end. There was plenty of time, I told myself. I couldn’t leave Kevin in the lurch.
I don’t know exactly what made me put the tape down on the bed and take out the photo. Maybe I wanted to be sure that what I’d seen was real. Maybe I was just nervous and a little scared.
Whatever the reason, I was standing by the window looking at the picture when I heard the door slam shut. I thought it was that errant breeze again—but when I turned around, there stood Marissa.
With a shaking hand, I put the picture back in my pocket and stared at her. Did she know?
“Dae. You’ve been snooping around,” she accused.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you have something that belongs to me.”
I took a deep, steadying breath. She wasn’t a ghost. She couldn’t have looked over my shoulder from the door and seen the picture. I had to stay cool.
“I don’t think so. I felt the breeze in the hall and saw that the cardboard had fallen down. I got some tape to fix it.”
“You know what I mean! Don’t lie to me. You took something from my room at the house. I don’t know why you haven’t done anything with it, but I want that picture back now!”
I thought about the picture. I knew it had been in the supply closet downstairs. Obviously, she didn’t realize that she’d brought it here.
“I think we should discuss this,” I said with a smile. “Maybe we should have some coffee downstairs.”
“You stole from me—like you did from my grandfather. But I’m not in a wheelchair.”
“Maybe you should call the police,” I said, testing her. “Maybe they could sort it all out.”
“Or maybe I could just take it from you—and they could find you on the ground outside—a tragic victim of your own good heart. These windows can be tricky up here.”
I started to say something else—anything else—that would get me out of this room in one piece. Normally I wouldn’t have been afraid of her. But how many times had I heard Gramps talk about the desperate actions cornered people were capable of?
Before I could react, Marissa launched herself at me. I tried to move out o
f the way. She was faster—fingernails curved like claws and kicking as she moved.
I was up against a hundred-year-old window frame. I knew it wouldn’t be able to withstand both our weights pushed against it. The glass that still remained in the top of the wood frame began shattering, spraying us both with slivers.
She was pushing at me, trying to force me out of the window. I pushed back, thinking that if I could reach the bed and the cleaning products, I could grab something to defend myself. Mostly, I just wanted to get away from the window. I didn’t want us both to fall from the third floor.
A cold wind swept through the room. I couldn’t tell if it came from the gaping window at my back or from some other opening on the third floor. I decided that yelling might be a good idea—despite the noise from the rug-cleaning machines that had started up again.
Marissa clapped her hand over my mouth as I opened it. She was strong. Obviously, I needed to start lifting large buckets of cleaning supplies—if I survived this fight.
Then, it was as if the cold wind lifted and pushed Marissa away from me. She flew across the room and smacked into the sturdy wall near the closet. She dropped to the floor like a broken doll.
I slid down on top of the cardboard I’d intended to use to fix the window. I knew that had been no ordinary wind—even before Rafe appeared, staring down at Marissa with his cutlass in hand.
“Do I have to do everything for you, girl? Was it not enough that I moved that picture so you could find it? Then you go and try to get yourself killed.”
“Thanks?” I could barely say the word. “I thought you were gone.”
“Without fulfilling my end of the bargain? I am a gentleman of the sea. I promised you my treasure in exchange for proving my innocence.”
“Oh yeah.” Not only hadn’t I thought about the treasure again—it seemed a little unimportant right now. “Where is it?”
“Bah! You’ll never find it alone. Meet me at the docks. Midnight. I’ll guide ye there. Then I’m gone from this world.”
He disappeared again. The cold wind went with him. Marissa groaned and started to move.
I forced myself to my feet and ran out the door.
Kevin called the police when I told him what had happened. He brought Marissa downstairs and made sure she was all right.
I sat downstairs in the lobby with a blanket wrapped around me. My teeth were chattering—I was freezing. Shock, no doubt. Marissa sat across the lobby from me. If looks could’ve killed, I’d have been dead.
Chief Michaels arrived a few minutes later with Tim and Scott. “The arraignment ended early. Old Joe had another stroke. He won’t have to worry about being in any trouble for Johnny’s death.”
Marissa started crying—quietly at first. Then she yelled out, “She killed him! She’s responsible. And now she wants to get me in trouble too. He was my only relative left alive. I’m going to sue you, Dae O’Donnell. You won’t have anything left when I get done with you.”
“So what’s going on out here exactly?” The chief looked at me and Marissa.
“She’s trying to say that I killed someone—like she did my grandfather. She went to my house and stole something personal that she thinks proves something.” Marissa kept sniffling and crying until Tim brought her some tissues.
“All I did was find a photo in the supply closet here,” I said, defending myself. “I didn’t get anything from her house, except the diary.”
“Liar!” Marissa jumped out of her chair.
“Just take a seat, Ms. Endy,” the chief said. “Let me take a look at that photo, Mayor.”
I gave him the photo from my pocket. I could tell from the look on his face that it affected him the same way it had affected me.
“Tim, Scott—you two stay here with Ms. Endy. If you’d come with me into the kitchen, Mayor . . .”
I followed the chief out of the lobby. He waited to speak until we were alone. “Dae, I need you to tell me exactly what happened here. Don’t leave anything out.”
I knew I couldn’t do exactly as Chief Michaels asked, but I told him how I’d found the picture (not that a pirate ghost had purloined it from Marissa’s house) and that she’d attacked me upstairs when she got back from the arraignment.
“This is some mighty compelling evidence with everything else we have,” he said. “I just had to make sure there was no hoodoo involved. You’ll have to testify in court, you know. It would look bad if you explained that you’d held her hand or something to find it.”
“I was just looking for some tape, Chief. And I’ll be glad to testify to that, if you need me.”
“All right then. I think we have our killer.”
Chapter 49
I brought Gramps with me to the docks that night.
I didn’t like the idea of being out at sea in the middle of the night by myself. Besides, without him, I would’ve had to take a rowboat. Having Gramps there meant we could take the Eleanore—fitting since Rafe was related from the Bellamy side of the family.
The air was very cold—icy winds blowing off the sea—as we waited for Rafe to make an appearance. It wasn’t easy explaining all of it to Gramps, but the fact that he’d lived with two women who were gifted was enough to make him a little more open-minded. He’d loved my grandmother. Her gift for finding things had made my life easier.
“Are you sure your friendly pirate ghost meant tonight?” Gramps stomped his feet and blew on his hands.
“Yes. But maybe they have a different sense of time than we do. Let’s give him five more minutes. I’d really like to close all of this out between us. You can’t imagine how awkward it is not knowing if a giant pirate ghost is lurking invisibly while you’re sleeping or taking a shower.”
Gramps cleared his throat and smiled. “I suppose that would be true. Your grandmother would’ve loved this. I always thought she was part pirate.”
A minute later, Rafe’s ghost appeared. “He’s here,” I told Gramps. “I wish you could see him.”
“That’s fine. Don’t wish too hard. Just have him tell you where we should go.”
“I see you didn’t come alone,” Rafe snickered. “Aye, you talk a good fight, but you lack the backbone, girl. That’s as well. Get in yer vessel and follow closely. There are rocks hidden beneath the water as you get close to the shore. Be sure to give the captain my regards.”
I told Gramps what Rafe had said. We climbed into the Eleanore and were able to follow Rafe only because I could see a dim fluorescence around him. He floated right at the bow of the boat and kept us going straight in the night.
The beams from the island lighthouses played across the dark, cold water. The boat was tossed a little roughly in the waves coming up. Autumn was a time of sudden storms. I hoped we wouldn’t run into one as we went to retrieve Rafe’s treasure.
“How much treasure are we talking?” Gramps asked. “Maybe we should’ve brought Carter Hatley’s boat out. It’s much bigger.”
I pulled my jacket and rain poncho more tightly around me. My fingers felt numb with cold. I wished I’d worn gloves. “I guess if it’s too much treasure, we’ll come back out for the rest. It’s been there for three hundred years. Another night or two probably won’t matter.”
Rafe’s form stopped, standing near one of the smaller islands that surround the Outer Banks. He was pointing toward a cove that was frequented by tourists. It was hard to get to but a nice place in summer to paddle around in the shallow water.
“Is this it?” Gramps asked. “No way we can take the Eleanore into Pirate’s Point. There are too many rocks. Even during the day when you can see them, you can only take a dinghy in there.”
I knew all that, of course. It suddenly struck me—Pirate’s Point. There was a reason for that name, and Rafe probably buried his treasure here because of the rocks.
“I can’t stay past tonight.” Rafe was suddenly standing beside me in the boat. “You’ll have to come ashore so I can show you where the treasure is buried.”
<
br /> I looked at my watch. It had taken us almost three hours to get out here with the wind against us and the heavy fog bank we’d encountered after leaving the island.
I knew Gramps had an inflatable dinghy. It looked like I would have to row to the treasure anyway. At least the Eleanore had gotten us this far.
Gramps was skeptical when I told him what I had to do. “You’re sure about this, Dae? This pirate isn’t leading you on a wild-goose chase, is he?”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t have to come back. He wanted to keep his word to me. I’ll be fine. It shouldn’t be too bad from here to the shore.”
We both knew it was going to be treacherous—especially in a rubber dinghy. No boat would ever come out on top after scraping one of those sharp rocks that I knew lay between me and Rafe’s treasure. But I had to try. It would be nice to be rich and even better to find a real buried treasure chest.
I took two flashlights and threw on an extra poncho for warmth. Gramps found me some old gloves. We launched the dinghy, and I climbed down to it.
“Careful with the motor,” Gramps shouted. “It can be a little temperamental.”
“Okay. I have my radio and cell phone. I hope one of them works once I get there.”
“I’m giving you thirty minutes,” he said. “After that I’m calling Gus to bring out the Coast Guard rescue ship.”
I laughed—but he was probably serious. Anyway, thirty minutes should be plenty of time. I got the little outboard engine started and held tightly to the rudder to steer it toward shore.
Gramps shone a spotlight from the Eleanore, but once I was out of its range, the water and the night around me were pitch black. Out here there were no streetlights—not even any lights from houses. No one lived out here. I remember someone telling me once that it was owned by the government as part of an offshore training area. I didn’t know if that was true, and if it was, how it would affect claiming the treasure. The government might want a cut.
“Steer a bit to port,” Rafe said, sitting next to me in the boat. “There’s a big rock you could end up on top of in this little craft.”
