by Joyce Lavene
“Anything you want to tell me?”
“I told Chief Michaels everything already,” I answered. “Why are you here?”
“I’m the county sheriff, and there’s been a death. I thought Ronnie could use my help.”
“I see.” Chalk that up for he wanted to know what was happening, and a death on the gambling ship was bound to be in the news. Tuck loved publicity. “I don’t know anything more than what I told Chief Michaels.”
That wasn’t strictly true, as I had left out the part about the coral horn. But I didn’t see how that could impact the murder investigation, and I didn’t want it taken away. They might do something with it that could make this even worse.
“You know what I’m looking for.” His eyebrows went up and down and his hands wiggled in the air near his face. “The spooky stuff. Woo-woo. The stuff Ronnie doesn’t like to hear about.”
I was surprised at the request since usually Sheriff Riley didn’t want to hear anything related to my gift either.
“There wasn’t anything, unless you count the death itself.”
“Really? You got some vibe off it?”
“I don’t know what you’re looking for, but step inside the stateroom. I think you’ll see what I mean.”
He nodded. “Okay. If I have any questions, I’ll contact you. Heidi and I have been watching all kinds of supernatural shows on TV to get a feel for what you do after everything that happened with the horses last year. I’d certainly appreciate anything you could do to help us solve this homicide.”
It was such an abrupt change of attitude for him that it was hard to take in. Sheriff Riley was never a fan of my gift, and suddenly he wanted to know all about it.
“I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Thanks.” He enthusiastically shook my hand.
All I could think of as I went down the boarding ramp was that Heidi had made a huge difference in him.
I spoke to several other Duck residents who were waiting to get on the ship and do their duty as part-time police officers. I was glad there were so many there that I didn’t have to feel guilty about leaving.
There was no transport going from the ship to the waiting area at the end of the pier. I started walking, thinking about Captain Lucky and wondering what had happened to him. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something large jumping in the water, close to the ship. I thought it might be a dolphin.
On the edge of the pier, the bright sunlight illuminated blue and orange scales, like the ones I’d seen in Captain Lucky’s quarters. I started to pick one up with my bare hand and then drew back.
Carefully, I used my driver’s license from my pocket to lift a few of the scales and put them on a piece of cardboard I found in the trash. I put that in my pocket and kept walking.
I was thinking about the coral horn and the mermaid I’d seen from touching it. Was it possible there were already seafolk in Duck?
Gramps was more than eager to go to the police investigation when I got back to Missing Pieces. He wanted to know everything I’d seen and heard at the ship, also convinced I knew something more about the crime.
“That’s all I know. I hated seeing him dead. The ship surgeon said he drowned. His stateroom was wet like he could’ve drowned right in there. I know that’s not possible.”
“All right. I’m going down there. I’ve rescheduled the charter for tomorrow.” He hugged me. “It wasn’t your fault, Dae. You couldn’t have known what you’d find there. I’ll see you later, probably at home.”
Several of the shop owners had come out on the boardwalk to talk about the gossip regarding Captain Lucky’s death. It was already filtering through town.
Mary Catherine Roberts, who was the new owner of the Pet Emporium, was holding the smallest Yorkie I’d ever seen. She glanced up at the sky, and a gull landed on the edge of the gutter close to her head.
She nodded as the bird squawked a few times. “Captain Lucky has been killed? Why, that’s horrible.”
Vergie Smith who had been the postmistress for Duck since before I was born, paused on her way into the Duck General Store. “Hear that, August? The captain of that stupid gambling ship is dead.”
August Grandin, who owned the general store, came to the open door. “I knew that ship was going to be a big mistake. Now someone’s been murdered out there. I can’t wait to hear what the mayor and the town council have to say about that.”
Mary Catherine walked into Missing Pieces. “What’s going on with Captain Lucky?” She took a seat on my burgundy brocade sofa.
“I don’t know. I found him dead on the ship. I’m sure you heard as much as I know from your gull friend.”
She laughed. “Gull friend. I get that. That particular gull is female too. I don’t think she saw what happened to Captain Lucky, but she told me that he was here with you for a while earlier.”
“Is there anything you don’t hear from birds, fish, or rats?”
“Not much. They’re naturally inquisitive and they love to gossip.”
Mary Catherine was a colorful, middle-aged woman who had a flamboyant sense of style—and could speak to any animal on the planet.
It was a gift, like mine, that she was born with. People called her the Pet Psychic. She’d used the name for years as a radio talk show personality. Now she was semi-retired and ran the Pet Emporium where she counseled owners and their pets when the need arose.
She’d been surprisingly busy.
Today she was wearing a green and purple caftan with matching shorts and long, faux emerald earrings. She almost always wore her large tabby cat draped around her neck like a scarf, but Baylor had been left behind, possibly because of the Yorkie she’d been holding on the boardwalk.
“I only said something about Captain Lucky’s visit here to Chief Michaels. I’d appreciate it if you’d ask your friends not to spread that information around.”
She laughed and walked to the door. “I don’t think anyone else can understand what they say anyway, but I’ll mention it to her. Now I have to go back and try to work out the problems my little Yorkie friend is having with his people.”
“Maybe he just needs to eat different food,” I suggested. “I took your advice about Treasure, and he’s like a new cat.”
“Good to hear,” Mary Catherine said. “But I’m afraid the Yorkie—his name is Samuel—is far more disturbed than Treasure. He was a rescue dog, and even though he’s with a good family now, he’s having some lingering issues that cause him to frequently poop in the middle of his parents’ bed. Not a pleasant situation. See you later, Dae.”
I stood at the large plate glass window in Missing Pieces that overlooked the boardwalk and the Currituck Sound. There were dozens of smiling tourists going in and out of the shops. It was easy to tell them apart from Duck residents that afternoon because the residents all knew about Captain Lucky’s death and were either sad or angry—sometimes both—about the news.
Between customers, I took out my feather duster to run over the shelves and their contents. I checked my email, sometimes receiving offers on goods that I had listed at eBay. Nothing there, but I heard from Dillon Guthrie, a businessman I’d met. He was detailing some of the finds he’d had in South America where he was diving off the coast.
Dillon and I weren’t friends. He was a thief and a killer who lived outside the law. We had nothing in common except for a deal we’d made over some valuable silver bells. I’d had one of the bells made by the Augustine monks in Florida centuries before. Dylan had given his bell to me because he thought I’d find the third bell.
And he was right. A man had offered me the third bell last month. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he came to give me the details on his terms for the priceless artifact.
In the meantime, I shut off my email and paused to consider the coral horn behind the counter where I’d left it.
Captain Lucky wouldn’t be coming back for it. Maybe he had a family member or friend who’d like to have it in memory of
him. I wouldn’t mind having my five hundred dollars back, if possible. There was no way to imagine that something like this could happen to the romantic young man who’d made such an impression on the people of Duck.
I put the horn away in the closet at the back of the shop. No doubt it was just a coincidence that Captain Lucky had been killed right after someone had sounded it.
But I didn’t like those kinds of coincidences.
Chapter Four
When the shop was straightened and dusted, I was happy, and ready to bring on the huge crowds tomorrow after the parade. Sometimes I made as much in that single day as I did in a normal month. It was exciting to consider.
I had a few intriguing items that were up for sale that I had discovered over the winter.
There were two tea services that I’d found at a flea market in Morehead City. I verified their owners by touching them. They’d both belonged to the first governor of North Carolina, who by all accounts, had started his career as a pirate.
There was good evidence of the facts even before I’d removed my gloves for the rosewood tea service. The owner claimed kinship with the governor, and my gift told me it was true. But that was only the first service.
The second service was richly appointed with gold rims and yellow jasmine flowers. That service had been owned by the governor’s mistress. The rosewood had belonged to his wife. Interesting facts that I thought could help their sale price.
I also had acquired two Revolutionary War pistols and an oil lamp that was verified as being used on the Queen Anne’s Revenge—Blackbeard’s flagship. Usually I ignored anything attached to Blackbeard because there were so many frauds. Not to mention that discovering a piece that had been on the Revenge meant feeling all the emotions that one could imagine being on a pirate ship.
Kevin had been right beside me. I had touched the lamp gingerly. It was too valuable to ignore from my initial feelings toward it, even though he wasn’t happy with me doing it. He worried a lot, but then he’d also seen me in bad straits after a few dark meetings with other artifacts.
In this case, the piece was genuine and hadn’t been peppered with death and dismemberment. The oil lamp had actually belonged to the mother of a young cabin boy who’d survived Blackbeard’s death at the hands of the British. He’d gone on to live a good, long life as a shoemaker in Wilmington. The lamp had been displayed in his shop until he’d passed, with him telling the story to everyone who would listen.
There was also a very fine pair of ruby and gold teardrop earrings that had been a gift from Lady Spencer while she was visiting her sister in the new world, circa 1810. It seemed that Lady Spencer had been quite well-to-do and known for dropping expensive gifts for trifles when she traveled. The earrings had been given to a housemaid who’d done a particularly good job of cleaning the lady’s boots.
Besides those expensive items that would require certain customers with deep pockets, I had the usual souvenirs of the Outer Banks, a few used beach chairs, and some gently used toys. It was always good to keep some lower end stock that could prove useful to the right person.
And it was hard for me to only pick up the expensive items for my shop. I was drawn to so many things that crossed my path. Sometimes they found good homes—sometimes they lived in my shop for years.
The chime at the front door sounded. It was a young family in brightly-colored, matching cotton shorts and tank tops. They looked through everything I had and chose a few souvenirs. They asked me about the start for the parade the next day.
“We always start at nine a.m.,” I told them. “We like to be done before it gets too hot.”
It was the same answer I’d given many times. I was riding on a float made to look like a pirate ship this year for the first time. Everyone from town hall would be on it.
I had a few more customers, none of the caliber that would buy ruby earrings or a rare antique, but they took almost all my souvenirs and the beach chair. It wouldn’t be long, and I’d have to visit local yard sales for more items to sell. I didn’t like being overstocked, but I didn’t like the store to look empty either.
It was getting late, and I wondered what was happening on the ship. I thought again about Captain Lucky and his dreadful death. Did Chief Michaels know what had killed him yet? I didn’t want to call and ask. They didn’t need my curiosity, and I’d certainly hear all about it from Gramps.
I looked at the aqua-colored dress I’d picked up for Trudy’s wedding that morning. I was her maid of honor. The dress was much prettier on the hanger than it was on me, at least in my estimation. I thought it made me look like a large, unusual flower with its thick netting and calf-length skirt.
But was there ever a bridesmaid’s dress that the bridesmaids liked? I’d been in dozens of weddings, and the dresses were disasters that could never be worn again. It was better than the eggplant-colored (and shaped) gown I’d worn to Althea Hinson’s second wedding.
Two of the Duck town council members came to see me. I made tea for them, and we talked about what had happened to Captain Lucky.
Rick Treyburn was a retired investment banker who’d moved to Duck about ten years before. He was convinced that we were in for a rocky night at the town council meeting.
“It was bad enough that people were going to complain about too many visitors coming in for the gambling ship. Now they’ve got shells for their cannon.”
“He’s right,” Councilman Dab Efird mourned. “I hope Cody Baucum has the answers. He’s the most popular one.”
“Everyone on the council voted for the gambling ship,” I reminded them.
“Except you, Dae,” Rick said.
“I was only following the recommendations of our staff and Sheriff Riley’s suggestions.”
“Well it’s all come to pass just like Riley and Chief Michaels said it would.” Dab glared at Rick. “I felt pressured into agreeing with everyone else after the shakeup on the council.”
“We’ll have to come up with something,” Rick agreed. “I hope you have some ideas, Dae. The new polls say that you’re popular too.”
We have polls? “I don’t have any answers. I wish I did. We’re already committed to the gambling ship. We have to find a way to make it work, even if that means hiring more police officers full-time.”
Rick and Dab both drew the line at that suggestion.
“No one wants to spend extra money,” Dab reminded me.
“We’ve been making extra money in taxes from the Andalusia,” I said. “We could spend that on new officers.”
“Let’s get Cailey and Cody in on this too.” Rick grinned. “Share the guilt. We’ll see you tonight.”
The town council meeting was at seven p.m. I needed to be there by six-thirty to make sure I’d seen all the information that Chris Slayton was presenting. That was part of my job as mayor, to facilitate the meetings. I rarely got to use my voting power since it only came up if there was a tie between our four council members.
It was five p.m., and though I could have stayed open later with the sunlight lasting until at least eight-thirty or nine, I had to close shop and get ready for the meeting. It hadn’t been a bad day, profit wise, even though it was unlikely I would ever see the five hundred dollars back that I’d given Captain Lucky. At least I’d tried to help him.
Mary Catherine was standing at the side of the boardwalk almost leaning over the rail above the water. I walked up behind her. She was so engrossed in what she was doing, she didn’t even notice me until Baylor made a sound between a meow and a cry. He was draped around her neck as usual now, almost blending in with her blond hair.
“Oh!” she said. “I’m sorry, Dae. I didn’t see you there.”
“That’s okay.” I peered over the edge of the rail too. “Just wondering what was so interesting.”
There were three fish with their heads sticking out of the water. They were staring at Mary Catherine and ducked down into the sound when they saw me. Because my grandfather worked with fish, and I�
�d grown up on an island, I knew the fish were perch. I also knew there was good fishing off the sandbar that fronted the Duck Shoppes, though it was against the law to fish from the boardwalk.
“My friends were just telling me about a problem,” she explained. “It has to do with Captain Lucky’s death.”
My own gifts being what they were, I never doubted what she told me.
“Did they see who killed him?”
“Not exactly. They don’t live on the other side of Duck, but they have friends who do. There’s something unusual about the way Captain Lucky died. It’s hard to translate exactly what they’re saying. You know how sometimes a fish can be garbled or misunderstand what they see. They’re in the water, for the most part, and that tends to limit their view.”
“What part about his death can they explain?”
“They’re worried about creatures who usually don’t venture up from the deepest parts of the sea. They say Captain Lucky’s death has something to do with them.”
I thought about the orange and blue scales I’d found on the pier and in Captain Lucky’s stateroom, but I didn’t mention the seafolk.
“Are we talking kraken or something?” I half joked, trying to understand.
“I’m not sure.” Her forehead furrowed above her deep blue eyes. “The word they’re using to describe this creature is unfamiliar to me.”
I peeked through the rail at the little fish again. They seemed to be listening to what we were saying. “What’s the word?” I whispered.
“Atargatis. Do you know it?”
“No. I don’t recognize it. I guess that’s the only trouble about communicating with animals.”
“It’s not that much different than when we find something remarkable and have to figure out what it means. I rather enjoy it.” She stared off at the large expanse of water that was still colorful with kayaks and bright sailboats heading away from shore.
“Well, if you hear anything else, let me know.” I smiled at her. “I have to get ready for the council meeting. I think I’m going to recommend that we never have another council meeting right before the Fourth of July parade again. I should be helping get things set up for tomorrow. Instead I’m stuck listening to people complain for two hours.”
