A Haunting Dream

by Joyce Lavene

  “Sounds like you really don’t have anything in mind either,” August Grandin said. He owned Duck General Store, a couple of doors down from Missing Pieces.

  “No,” I admitted. “I don’t have those answers. But neither does Councilman Wilson. I think appointing a group of citizens to work with the police as a community watch might be a good idea. I’ve brought that to the town council several times in the last year, but they’ve always voted against it.”

  “Why is that?” August asked Mad Dog. “I remember Dae asking the council to consider that idea. What happened?”

  Mad Dog kind of growled and his face turned red. “Wet-nose puppies! What good would it do to have everyone in town looking over everyone else’s shoulder? It’s a stupid idea. That’s why we turned it down.”

  The audience erupted into a loud discussion, getting to their feet, in some cases, to tell their neighbor what they thought about community watch programs. I wished I’d brought my gavel from town hall to quiet them down.

  Cailey finally got the room to come to order—with some help from the volunteer firefighters who were present. She asked everyone to sit down again. “This is getting out of hand, people. The debate is supposed to be spirited, not rude. Let’s hear what both candidates have to say—unless the rest of you plan to run for office too.”

  There was a chorus of groans and assurances that none of them were so stupid as to run for public office. They were leaving that part to me and Mad Dog.

  I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about those sentiments. Like Gramps always said, at best serving the public was a thankless job, but it was also an important one. I always tried to see the bigger picture and not take what was said to heart.

  The room was quiet after that, and we made it through the debate. Mad Dog took a few more shots at me, mostly about me being too young to know what to do as mayor. I could see a few older folks’ heads bobbing up and down in agreement. That was an easy score for him. I couldn’t deny that I was thirty years younger than him.

  I felt like I’d made a few valid points too. Duck needed energy and vision to get where it wanted to be. Mad Dog slept through many of the council meetings, though I didn’t quite say that. I did remark on his habit of not showing up for meetings, though. That was a matter of public record.

  Afterward, everyone seemed to think it went very well. They came up and shook hands with me and Mad Dog. Some of them promised to vote for one or the other of us. Most held back on their congratulations. They’d continue thinking about it until next November and make their opinions known on the ballot.

  “You did great, Dae!” Nancy, Shayla and Trudy chorused around me after a series of hugs. “You said exactly what needed to be said. Good job!” Trudy added.

  “Let’s celebrate!” Nancy said. “I’ll buy the first round at Wild Stallions, if the rest of you reciprocate.”

  Shayla and Trudy quickly agreed. I was on the verge of agreeing too when I noticed that Kevin was waiting to talk to me. “You go ahead and I’ll catch up. I have to mingle with my constituency before I leave.”

  Shayla glanced at Kevin and Ann, who were standing behind Trudy. “Don’t get all mushy over that man,” she hissed. “You don’t need him.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered. “My brain agrees with you. The rest of me is waiting to be convinced. Besides, he is a voter.”

  “She might be one now too,” Trudy said with a frown.

  Nancy outright glared at Kevin as she walked by. Trudy and Shayla scowled at him. None of them spoke to him.

  Kevin was frowning as I reached him, clearly not used to being treated like yesterday’s oyster shell. The women of Duck had been kind to him, welcoming almost to the point of fawning. We didn’t get a lot of new single men in town. He’d been a prize worth capturing, especially since he was good-looking and owned the Blue Whale Inn.

  Only my friends were likely to care one way or another about the latest development between Kevin and me. I appreciated their loyalty, but I hoped they’d get over it right away. Kevin didn’t deserve their scorn. He was doing what he had to do.

  “You did very well,” he said quietly, standing close to me.

  “Thanks. I’m glad you could come.” We were alone, but I knew I’d seen Ann beside him just a moment ago. “Where’s Ann?”

  “She’s outside, waiting. She doesn’t like confined spaces with a lot of people.”

  “I hope she can adjust to all of this. I know it’s a lot different than the life she’s used to.”

  “I hope so too.” He glanced around as though unsure of what to do or say next. He grabbed the obvious. “I guess you were in the middle of all that going down at your neighbor’s house today.”

  “I know everyone has heard about it by now. At this point, it’s just run-of-the-mill for me to see dead people, or people who are probably dead. It’s almost as routine as looking for antiques.”

  He took my hand and squeezed it gently. “Don’t say that. It can never be second nature to you. You’ll lose who you are, like Ann has. I can still help, if you’ll let me. I don’t know all the answers, like you said. But I think we’ve worked well together. That doesn’t have to be over.”

  I prayed, short and fast, that he wouldn’t offer his undying friendship next. That might be more than I could take for one day.

  I reclaimed my hand from his, making a show of picking up my pocketbook. “I think you’re going to need to focus your energies on dealing with Ann right now. I’ll be fine. You know I always bounce back. Don’t worry.”

  He put his hand into his jacket pocket. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. But promise you’ll call if you need me. You know I’ll be there.”

  I said, “I know,” in a voice I barely recognized. I wasn’t sure if he’d heard or not.

  Lucky for me, Ann came back inside, probably to see what was keeping him. I followed up with a much stronger “Good night” and thanked them both for coming.

  I wanted them to leave. But when my wish came true, it left me feeling empty and alone.

  My father, the one I’d recently learned I had, came up. He looked angry. “He has a lot of nerve showing up here tonight. I could go out right now and kick his ass, if you want me to. Nobody should do that to my little girl.”

  The idea that I was his little girl was funny. Here I was—thirty-six years old—and he’d been kept from me all of my life. My mother and Gramps had both told me he was dead. For my own good, of course.

  Gramps had driven Danny away from my mother when she was pregnant with me. He wasn’t good enough to marry the Dare County sheriff’s daughter, since he’d been in and out of trouble all of his life. That was supposed to make it okay that they’d let me believe my father was dead.

  “I suggest you stay out of it, Danny,” Gramps advised him, joining us. “Let them sort it out.”

  That struck me as funny too, knowing what I knew about the whole crazy business. I wasn’t sure what to say to either of them.

  Deciding I needed the company of women, I excused myself and let them know I’d be at the bar with my friends. Neither man was crazy about the idea of me going out by myself—it was almost ten P.M., after all. The streets might not be safe.

  I kissed my father on the cheek and let Gramps take me down to the boardwalk on the golf cart. That was one good thing about being older—I could listen to advice but not necessarily take it.

  It was a beautiful night. The moon was big and full, lending that special glow across town. It was a mile or so down to the Duck Shoppes on the Boardwalk where Wild Stallions was located. Missing Pieces was tucked between Trudy’s Curves and Curls Beauty Spa and Shayla’s Mrs. Roberts, Spiritual Advisor shop. The area was the heart of Duck.

  Once I arrived, I knew I didn’t want to sit and drink all night. Being with friends for a while was a wonderful balm for my spirit, but the moonlight was calling me out for a solitary walk on the beach.

  I told Trudy and Shayla (Nancy had already left) that I was tired and going home
for the night. It was close to the truth. I would go home—once I’d had enough walking.

  They were a little concerned about me being alone, but they handled it. I knew they’d talk about my sadness over losing Kevin and think of things to cheer me up. Shayla would offer me a love potion to find someone else, and Trudy would offer me a facial so I could look my best.

  I said good night and turned off my cell phone as I left. This was just the right thing to do.

  The moon illuminated Duck Road, creating a path of light through the center of town. I followed it, winding down the silent streets, until I reached the shore of the Atlantic. The sea had a hazy quality, and the waves were so calm, it was almost like looking at the Currituck Sound on the other side of town.

  I stood on the shore and stared out at the water like so many of my Banker relatives had in centuries past. The Atlantic was the lifeblood of Duck and the other, older towns on the island. Our ancestors had scratched out a living here by taking in cargo from ships lost to the “Graveyard of the Atlantic.”

  Hundreds of ships had gone down here. Some because of the treacherous waters, others because of the local pirates, and a few here and there due to Banker tricks that caused no small amount of disaster. People had done what they needed to survive. Those weren’t easy times. Cut off from the mainland—no bridges then—life had been difficult.

  As I followed the horizon with my eyes, I saw what looked like an old wooden ship. It was huge and under full sail. It looked heavy and cargo rich—a Spanish galleon, if I wasn’t mistaken.

  “The Andalusia,” I barely breathed aloud.

  It was a legend, a ghost ship that had sunk with all hands aboard and a treasure estimated by most people to be worth over twenty-five million dollars in today’s currency. The ship was destroyed in 1721, never to be seen again as a real vessel. But many people had seen it down through the years, sailing across the water. People in Duck took it as an ill omen.

  I’d spent my entire life here, but I’d never seen this before. As I watched it, thrilled and terrified at the same time, I knew it couldn’t be anything other than the Andalusia. The ship, even though it looked heavy with cargo, wasn’t quite resting on the dark water. A light that wasn’t part of the moon glow filled it, creating an aura around it.

  I’d heard people say that seeing the ghost ship had transfixed them. They’d walked for miles looking at it. Now, I felt transfixed—captivated by the sight of it. I couldn’t look away.

  I started walking along the beach, trying to keep pace with the ghostly galleon. Except for the light emanating from the ship and the glow from the moon, it was very dark along the water. I stumbled into a ditch in the sand created by rain runoff from the island. The beach was still very wet from the tail end of a hurricane we’d had recently. I lost my balance and sank to my knees in the soft sand.

  I put my hands out to keep myself steady. I didn’t want to look away from the Andalusia, but I had no choice if I wanted to get back on my feet.

  I looked down at the sand and saw a face with wide-open eyes looking back at me.

  Chapter 5

  I crawled out of the ditch as quickly as I could, my heart pounding. The ghost ship was pushed from my thoughts like yesterday’s high tide. I’d almost fallen right on the person. It was hard to tell for certain in the dim light, but the face looked like Chuck Sparks.

  Nothing but Banker determination made me go back to the ditch and try to decide if he was still alive. I got down close beside him. I wasn’t a doctor, but I couldn’t feel a pulse. He felt cold, and his body was stiff to the touch.

  I used the light from my cell phone to look at him more carefully. It was Chuck. He was covered in sand, as though he’d been rolled in it. Had someone buried him and the tide had shifted the sand, bringing him back to the surface again?

  I tried using the phone to call for help. No signal. At that point, it was a better flashlight than a phone. I didn’t want to leave Chuck alone, but I had no choice. There was only so much I could do by myself.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I have to go. I’ll be right back with someone who can help. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

  As I started to get to my feet, his hand moved, clutching at my skirt beside it. His ghastly white face turned and looked at me, as he had in the vision. “Help her.”

  I jumped away with a small shriek, crawling until I was a few yards from him. Despite what some might term my “psychic” gift of being able to help people find things, I’d never experienced anything like this. Dead bodies normally didn’t speak to me. Now that it had happened, I wished it hadn’t. It was bad enough in a vision. This was so much worse.

  I sat on the wet sand, shuddering, and looked up at the sky. The ghost ship was gone now, but the moon was still smiling down at me.

  Did Chuck really just speak to me?

  I wasn’t sure. Maybe I’d imagined it. Finding a dead body, even one that didn’t speak, could be traumatic enough to make someone hallucinate.

  So I crawled back again, mindful that my dry cleaner, Mrs. Toivo, was going to have a few words with me about this. I felt safer near the ground, less lightheaded. I thought about standing—it might be easier to get away if Chuck decided to put any more moves on me. But my legs were shaking too much. That made fast crawling my best option.

  I pulled out my cell phone and peered over the slight lip of the ditch. Chuck looked the same as he had when I’d first found him. I couldn’t tell if he’d really moved or if I’d imagined it.

  This was an awful turn for my gift to take. In the future, were recently dead people—not even ghosts—going to start talking to me? That thought made me want to run away screaming.

  I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I had to focus on what to do next.

  Once I saw that he was the same, I moved away and pushed myself to my feet a little farther down the beach. So much for moonlight making everything more romantic. This experience was definitely not romantic.

  I walked up to the first house at the edge of the beach—Mr. and Mrs. Cooley’s place. They’d recently retired and moved to Duck. He was an ex-corporate official from some mega-giant technology firm. I pounded on the door as though the dead were after me—which I prayed they weren’t.

  An outside light came on at the back deck that fronted the water. “Mayor O’Donnell?” Mrs. Cooley, a nice middle-aged woman with gray-lilac tinted hair, greeted me. “Is something wrong? Do you need help?”

  Her husband came to the door behind her in his red striped pajamas. “What’s wrong, Ethel?” he asked his wife. “Has she been assaulted? Should we call the police?”

  “Yes!” I answered, teeth chattering, knowing they might take it the wrong way. But whatever got Chief Michaels down here worked for me. “Could I call my grandfather too? My cell phone isn’t working.”

  “Really?” Mr. Cooley questioned. “We’ve always had great service here. It must be your provider.”

  I handed him my phone, which was also covered in sand. He hit Gramps on speed dial and the call went right through. He shrugged and handed the phone back to me.

  “Dae?” Gramps answered the phone. “Where are you? Ronnie and I have gone through two pots of coffee waiting for you. There’s some news about Chuck Sparks. Ronnie has some questions for you—and for Chuck.”

  “I have some answers for the chief. Both of you need to come over to the Cooleys’ house. I’m over here. Chuck is on the beach in the drainage ditch. Dead.”

  “Well, I guess we won’t be asking him those questions then,” Gramps replied and hung up the phone.

  I shivered and nodded when Ethel Cooley asked me if I wanted some coffee.

  Of course, the Cooleys were concerned and disturbed that there was a dead man only a few hundred yards from their home. I dropped down on a kitchen chair, hoping they didn’t mind the sand, and tried to calm their apprehension.

  By that time, we could hear sirens approaching, and Mr. Cooley went to open the front doo
r to let everyone in. It wasn’t long before Chief Michaels, Gramps and Officer Scott Randall, our other full-time Duck police officer, were there.

  The emergency rescue crew was immediately behind them. As soon as they arrived, we all trooped down to the beach to retrieve Chuck’s body.

  “What were you doing way down here?” Gramps asked. “I thought you were with your friends at Wild Stallions.”

  “I needed some time alone,” I explained. “Then I saw the Andalusia.”

  The chief made a scoffing sound. “You and every other flaky person in Duck.”

  “I’m not a flake,” I said, defending myself and every other person who’d seen the ghost ship. “It was there. It wasn’t a real vessel. I followed it down the beach until I fell into the drainage ditch and found Chuck.”

  “Let’s just see if this body is real then,” the chief said.

  Chuck was definitely real. As soon as the paramedics checked him and agreed that he was dead, the chief put on his latex gloves. “Looks like you were right about Chuck, Mayor. In fact, I was at your house to tell you that something was off. No one has seen him in three days. His mail was piling up, and no one had fed his cat.”

  “Now maybe you’ll believe me about Derek Johnson. The medallion belonged to Chuck. The only one likely to know he’d lost it would be his killer.”

  “Thank you, Miss Marple. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll draw my own conclusions. You need to get out of the crime scene area, ma’am. We’ll let everyone do their jobs.”

  Gramps put his arm around me. “Let’s get you home and out of these wet clothes, Dae. We’ll find out all about this by morning, I’m sure. There’s nothing else we can do here.”

  I saw him nod to the chief and decided that I didn’t care. He was right. A hot bath and a good rest were long overdue. I was way past ready for this day to be done.

  Gramps and I talked a little on the ride back in the golf cart. I still felt charged up from seeing the ghost ship. Not to mention having a dead Chuck Sparks talk to me.