Walking up to the front door, Nathan noticed a sign that made him laugh.
Welcome to the Beaufort Bed and Breakfast, where you make both!
Nathan walked up the stairs, and on the door was another sign.
It’s not locked. Turn the knob and come in! Once inside ring the bell one time at the desk if I’m not there and wait until I show up!
Nathan shook his head but did as instructed and waited at the front desk. A few seconds later a thin, bald, and unshaved elderly man wearing a white button-down shirt, brown slacks, and house slippers came out of a door that was located on the left side of the front desk.
“I’m Mr. Jackson, and I own the Bed and Breakfast. You need a room?” The elderly man asked as he reached down and grabbed a key from under the desk.
“Yes, please. I have a reservation.”
“I know. How long are you staying?”
“A month, maybe longer. Can I get a room that overlooks the water and street?”
“That’s the one I gave you. That’s the one everybody wants!”
“It looks pretty busy here,” Nathan remarked, trying to make conversation.
“It’s always busy around the 4th of July. Now, there are some things you need to know. I don’t come into your room to clean. If you need something like a towel or extra blanket, then come down here and let me know before 7:00 pm. You can have visitors but don’t have them coming in after 7:00 pm. Your room rate for the month is two hundred dollars. You pay by the week. I’ll need fifty dollars now.”
“Well, thank you,” Nathan responded as he handed the man the money.
“You’re welcome. I’ll give you a receipt when you check out. Please sign the guest registration, Mr. Emerson.”
“How do you know who I am?”
“It’s the day before the 4th of July, and we’re booked up. Everyone else got here yesterday. You’re the only guest with a reservation that I was missing. Your room is on the third floor, and the doors are marked. Your room is 301. You’ll recognize it because it will have a sign that says 301,” Mr. Jackson answered as he walked back out through the same door, he had entered.
Nathan shook his head once more and made his way up to his room. It was three flights of stairs later that he found himself standing in front of a door at the end of the hall. He had determined that the room was one of six on the third floor. The door was stained dark cherry, like the rest of the wood trim in the home. In the center was a sign that read 301.
“This must be the place,” he said quietly. He reached down and unlocked the door and then turned the knob. Upon entering the room, he found it to be much better than what he thought it would be. He had based his opinion, before going upstairs, off his minimal engagement with the very “plain” hotel proprietor. The bed was made and covered with a quilt that had designs of ships from the 1700s on it. There was a bathroom off to the left and on the far wall were three large windows that overlooked the street and Taylor Creek.
Nathan unpacked his suitcase and placed some clothes in the dresser while others he hung up in the closet. The bed was a queen-size bed, which he was happy to see rather than the usual smaller twin bed that his 6’2”, 205-pound frame didn’t fit very well in. Next to the bed was one nightstand. On the nightstand was one lamp, an alarm clock, a bible, and a radio. Directly across from the bed was a dresser. On top of the dresser was a small TV. The room had four pictures that were paintings of sailing ships.
Simple but comfortable, he thought.
The day was hot and humid. Nathan thought about taking a shower and finding a place to eat, but he wanted to speak to Sheriff Carter before it got too late. He decided against taking a shower but changed his sweat dried t-shirt into a clean blue and white short-sleeved Camp shirt that concealed his Colt .45 semi-automatic that he carried in the small of his back.
Chapter 5
Nathan had left his room and walked back downstairs, passing other guests who were dressed in shorts and flip-flops, coming and going as they enjoyed their 4th of July weekend. Mr. Jackson, who at first appeared to be pestered by Nathan ringing the bell once more, surprisingly and very kindly gave him directions. At around four o’clock, Nathan found himself standing in the lobby of the Sheriff’s Office. The building was off Ann Street, just like the bed and breakfast, and it too was painted white. Inside there was a small lobby area with a large counter separating the visitors from the offices and holding cells. Nathan was greeted by the receptionist, a heavy woman wearing a white and green dress. She also wore an ill-fitted wig atop her head that Nathan tried not to stare at. He didn’t know what to expect from Sheriff Carter but Preacher, during his phone calls with Nathan, had warned him not to get his hopes up.
Sheriff Carter came out into the waiting area from a side door. He was a large man whom Nathan estimated was 6’4” and weighed about 300 lbs. He had gray hair and a large pot belly that hung over his duty belt.
“I’m Agent Emerson with the FB…” Nathan began as he extended his right hand.
“I know who you are son,” Carter said as he crossed his arms over his belly. “I don’t appreciate the FBI coming into my county without an invitation. Pastor Turner told me that he’d requested you boys.”
“I’m sorry Sheriff, and I don’t mean to interfere or give anyone the feeling that the FBI is interfering with your investigation. We’re just simply following up on the information that we received. And...”
“And, the truth is boy that no one cares or gives a damn about a few dead nigger whores who are known to have spread their legs for a couple of dollars!” The sheriff clarified very loudly.
“Whores? That’s odd. There was no mention in any of the reports that I have that identified the girls as prostitutes. Besides Sheriff Carter, I’m here on vacation. To tell you the truth, there is no official investigation by the FBI. I was asked by my superior to see if I could be of any assistance to you while I was here. I’m simply just following up on a complaint the FBI received concerning a possible violation of Civil Rights. Now, we’re not saying there was a violation, but I’m sure that you understand that based on everything that has happened in the past few years we have to investigate some of the complaints that we receive. With that said, you can rest assured Sheriff, if I find anything to substantiate the complaint, then the FBI will do everything in its power to bring the wrongdoers to justice with the full support of the local sheriff’s office, I’m sure. After all Sheriff, we’re on the same team here. Our job is to ensure that people living within the United States, and in our own small-town communities, are safe no matter their color.”
“I think you talk a lot, but I understand. Now you try to enjoy your vacation,” Sheriff Carter said as he turned to walk back through the door.
“Oh, Sheriff…If you’ve got any additional information that wasn’t sent to me before could you get it to me please?”
“I’ll have everything ready for you on Monday.”
Nathan nodded his head toward the receptionist and turned and walked out the door.
***
It was about five o’clock in the evening when Nathan found himself walking around the town of Beaufort. The town was small, but the number of people moving in and out of the local shops suggested otherwise. The vacationer, which he now presented himself to be, discovered that he enjoyed reading the history of Beaufort that he found in a local paper. He learned that the town was first inhabited by the Coree Indians who were eventually forced further inland by settlers. The coastal town became a significant fishing and whaling port until some time back. Now, Beaufort flourished as a vacation destination for beachgoers during the summer months.
The town’s history also boasted the exploits of Edward Thatch, more commonly known as Blackbeard, which interested Nathan the most. He read how the feared pirate sailed the seas around the East Coast and down into the Florida Panhandle. He discovered that the pirate had a lure of sorts to the small fishing port of Beaufort. The pirate’s history could be found in most st
orefront windows that sold pirate costumes and other souvenirs. Nathan learned that Blackbeard captured a French ship and renamed it the Queen Anne’s Revenge and that he later ran the ship aground on a sandbar near Beaufort joining the town and the pirate forever in history.
Nathan wasn’t paying much attention to the other people around him until he spotted a woman who appeared to be taking photos of random vacationers. She was maybe 5’4” with blonde hair that she wore in a ponytail. She wore a blue Peri print pullover and blue Capri pants to match. She smiled at people passing by and spoke to everyone that approached her. Nathan made the assumption that she was a local photographer due to the number of people that addressed her as they passed by. He also determined that she was absolutely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Stormie Arrington was busy taking photos of the 4th of July weekend activities for the local newspaper unaware that she had captured the attention of a stranger in town. The day was busy, and people were everywhere. Near the entrance to Jack’s House of Fresh Fish, she saw two toddlers holding hands dressed in red, white, and blue outfits waving two small flags. She lifted her camera and quickly adjusted herself and then snapped the shot. She then adjusted her lens and placed the camera to her eye once more, and that’s when she spotted, through the viewfinder, the tall, handsome man across the way standing in front of what she believed was the worst seafood restaurant in town. She dropped the camera to her waist and looked over at him directly. Stormie was always direct.
Nathan, not realizing that he was staring at her until she looked right at him, immediately looked toward the menu in the window of the restaurant on his right. He stood there, pretending to browse the dinner choices for a few moments and then casually turned his head to the left to see if she was still there.
“I’m not over there anymore,” Stormie whispered from behind the now startled Nathan.
“Oh, hello. I wasn’t…”
“I wasn’t gonna’ eat here. Is that what you were about to say? I mean, I wouldn’t eat here either. It’s the worst place in town for seafood. And the worst part of it is that it should be fresh because that’s what the sign says! I mean the damn creek that runs out into the Atlantic Ocean is sitting no more than 100 yards away from their back door,” She explained in her Southern Alabama accent.
Nathan was fascinated, to say the least, at how upfront and friendly this beautiful woman with dark green eyes was toward a stranger.
“Okay; then where would a visitor like me eat dinner in this lovely town of yours?”
“Well, it ain’t my town. I’m just visiting too, goin’ on about 10 years now. I think. Now, my husband, he may call it his town. Come to think of it he probably thinks he owns it. But anyway, I’d eat over there at Pirate’s Cove and Fish House. It’s fresh and tasty.”
“Thanks for the information. I’m Nathan Emerson by the way,” Nathan said as he extended his right hand.
“Nice to meet you, Nathan Emerson. I’m Stormie, Stormie Arrington,” she replied as she shook his hand.
“What brings you to Beaufort? You and your family here on vacation?”
“No. I don’t have a family. I’m here just vacationing,” He answered awkwardly.
“Well ain’t that the beans! You mean to tell me that you came to Beaufort for the 4th of July and you don’t have a family? No kids, wife, maybe you’re here with your brother and his family?” Nathan shook his head ‘no’ as Stormie spoke. “No, you’re really here by yourself?”
“Yep, just me.”
Stormie enjoyed quizzing the dark-haired, blue-eyed visitor. She thought he was an attractive man that was fit and friendly. But she still questioned the fact that he was alone and on vacation.
“Well I guess everyone likes Beaufort on the 4th of July; even a man who vacations alone,” She remarked suspiciously.
“Maybe I like pirates. Now, you say Pirate Cove is the place for dinner over ‘thare’?” Nathan pointing across the park while emphasizing the word thare in his best attempt at sounding like a pirate.
“Yes, c’mon I’ll walk you over and get you a seat. Normally, if you don’t have a reservation this weekend at Pirate’s Cove, you’d be out of luck. But, seeing that you’re a pirate and all, I’m sure they can make room for one of their own.”
She continued to make small talk about the weather as she led Nathan over toward the restaurant. She was sure that she heard a Carolina accent when the stranger spoke. She wasn’t sure if it was North or South, but one thing was evident; he was from the Carolinas.
Stormie took Nathan to the back of the restaurant, away from the long line in front. She knocked on the back door, and a large man wearing an apron covered in blood and other seafood remains opened the door.
“Hi Mrs. Stormie,” The man said, greeting a regular guest of his.
“Hi, Freddy. Do you think you can get my close, personal friend, Nathan a seat tonight? He came into town unexpectedly last night, and I’ve been telling him for years that this was the best seafood restaurant in town. And, now as you can imagine, I can’t just let him leave without trying the Red Snapper that you bake to perfection.”
Nathan smiled at Freddy but never said a word or tried to interrupt Stormie as she laid it on thick.
“Absolutely, Mrs. Stormie. Give me a minute, and I’ll set a place for him,” Freddy said as he closed the door and went back inside.
“Mrs. Arrington; could I show you my gratitude by asking you to join me for dinner tonight?”
“Why Nathan Emerson, are you asking a married woman out on a date?” Stormie asked while looking as if she were appalled at such an idea.
“Uh, no…I was just….” Nathan stumbled, looking for the right words.
“I’m just teasing you, honey. Normally I’d jump at the chance to eat here, but I can’t this evening. By the way, please call me Stormie.”
“Okay then, but I’d prefer to be called Nathan.”
“It’s a deal,” Stormie answered just as the door opened.
“I got a place for him,” Freddy said interrupting.
“Enjoy your dinner, Nathan. And if you stick around town long enough maybe I’ll take you up on that offer,” Stormie said flirtatiously.
“I look forward to it.”
Stormie made her way back to her car, and before she knew it, she was heading back home. She always looked forward to getting out and meeting new people. Her husband, Ben, seldom ever wanted to go out for dinner, travel, or take her anywhere for that matter. He barely even spoke to her these days as it was. The idea of having dinner with a handsome man excited her a bit. She really wanted to say yes to dinner with the handsome stranger, but word would get out in the small town, “as it always does,” and it would just cause more trouble for her with Ben.
She and Ben had been married for almost ten years now, and for the past five years, she had felt neglected, mistreated, and on a few occasions, physically abused by Ben. She wanted so many times in the past few years to just run away. At times she thought that maybe she would go back to Alabama or perhaps she would move to California. The pictures she saw in magazines made it appear to be a lovely place with sunny beaches and palm trees that reached for the sky. But Ben would never leave North Carolina and she had come to believe that he would never allow her to leave either.
Chapter 6
Nathan walked out of Pirate’s Cove feeling very satisfied with the Red Snapper dinner Stormie had suggested. He made his way down toward the waterfront and slowly started walking back in the direction of the bed and breakfast. As Nathan walked, he thought about Stormie Arrington. He thought how lucky a man had to be to have her by his side.
She’s beautiful, witty, and, and, well smart. Yeah, she’s smart. I can tell just by talking to her, he thought to himself.
Nathan continued making his way down the sidewalk until he passed a late-night bar and grill. The sign in the window read “Judge’s Revenge” in red letters.
Looking through the window, he saw that th
e place was packed. The customers were crowded around the tables. Some sat elbow to elbow, while others danced in the aisles to the music that was being played. Nathan was about to continue on his way until he took another look and saw Sheriff Carter sitting at a table with three other men and an attractive brunette who appeared to be quite comfortable with the well-dressed man sitting close to her.
Nathan thought about keeping to himself, but curiosity took over, and he decided to enter the establishment to say hello once more to the town sheriff. Once inside, the smell of cigarette smoke was overwhelming, and from what he could tell the booze flowed freely. Nathan thought that some of the liquor that he observed being consumed was illegal moonshine that wasn’t governed by the state or county.
No need to say anything about it. Besides, I’m on vacation, he thought. Nathan made his way past a few drunk patrons until he was standing next to the table directly across from Sheriff Carter.
“Evening Sheriff,” Nathan said loudly while looking at the inebriated, uniformed lawman.
“Evening yourself,” Sheriff Carter slurred.
“This looks like the place to be tonight.”
“It is if you’re a local, but you’re not a local, are you?” The sheriff answered, making sure Agent Emerson knew he was not welcome.
“Now Sheriff Carter, don’t go running our guest off,” the well-dressed man sitting next to the woman said as he stood up and shook Nathan’s hand. I’m Ben Arrington, town Prosecutor, and to my left here is our own Public Defender, Jack Walters. Next to him is the Honorable Judge Thomas Jefferson Ridge. And I’m guessing that you’re that visiting FBI Agent, Nathan Emerson.”
The Secrets of Taylor Creek Page 3
