by Tim Myers
Alex realized that he didn’t have enough information yet, but if they were going to be stuck there together, he was determined to find out what had really happened to the private detective.
“Alex, it’s your turn,” Elise prompted him, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You’re really distracted this afternoon, aren’t you?”
He looked outside at the pounding rain, trying to come up with an excuse other than the truth that he could give, but Dutch supplied it for him. “It’s the weather, isn’t it?”
“It just came up all of a sudden,” Alex agreed, happy to be able to say something. “I’m surprised Harry doesn’t have a battery operated weather radio.”
Dutch looked surprised by the statement. “He does. It’s under the desk, along with some batteries. I thought you knew about it. He told me that he was putting it on his list.”
The lists Alex and Harry had exchanged covered nearly every contingency. They were volumes, more than mere notes, and Alex had forgotten all about it. He stood and walked over to the desk. Sure enough, buried under a discarded Acadia sweatshirt, was an all weather radio, along with some batteries. He loaded the radio, and then flipped it on. After a brief burst of static, they all heard a looped weather forecast from the National Weather Center.
“…storm and high tide warnings for the Outer Banks effective until six pm tomorrow. Heavy downpours at times, flooding a possibility throughout the broadcast area...”
They all stopped their games to listen through the loop twice. It appeared that there would be no rescue tomorrow, either.
Alex said as much, and Dutch corrected him, saying, “It sounds like a monster of a storm, so my guess is we’ll be here at least two more days.”
“Do we have enough food?” John Morrison asked.
Elise nodded. “It might not be fancy, but we won’t go hungry.”
“How about water?” Elizabeth asked.
Dutch took that one. “We have town water, so as long as their generator is working, we’ll be fine. It won’t be hot, though. The heater’s electric, as some of you have already found out.”
“But we had biscuits this morning, and the power was out,” Michelle said.
“Thankfully the oven and stovetop are both gas,” Elise explained.
“So, we’re in decent shape,” Greg said.
Jackson looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “You mean besides the fact that one of us is a killer? Oh, yes, we’re all just dandy.”
“You know what I meant,” Greg said.
“We all do,” Elizabeth answered, coming to her brother’s defense. She glanced down at the chessboard and tipped her king over on its side. “Well played, Mr. Benning. You have a real knack for the game.”
Jackson seemed to take the compliment well. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re pretty clever yourself. Where did you learn to play like that?”
Elizabeth’s face pinched inward for a moment, and Alex could swear that she was about to cry. After a second, she pulled herself together, and then admitted, “Our late father taught me. He was an excellent player.”
“No doubt,” Jackson said, clearly wondering about her reaction as well.
Michelle pushed her cards into the middle of the table. It felt as though they’d been playing for hours. “Is it getting cold in here?” she asked, “or is it my imagination?”
“It’s a little chilly,” Dutch answered. “Anyone mind if I start a fire?”
“A fire would be perfect,” Alex said when no one protested. Dutch quickly had a blaze going, and the game afternoon had come to a close. Elise looked at her watch and then said, “If you’ll all excuse me, I’d better get started on dinner.”
“Need any help?” Michelle asked.
Jackson didn’t like that all. “You could burn a pot of water, Michelle. She doesn’t need your help, or your company.”
“There, you’re wrong,” Elise said. “Michelle, I’d be delighted to have you come into the kitchen with me.”
Michelle gave Jackson a superior look, and then joined Elise.
Dutch said, “If you all will excuse me, I’d better make the rounds of the cottages to make sure they’re all secure before we get a real lashing.”
“I’ll go with you,” Alex said.
“There’s no need,” Dutch said. Was he angry with Alex’s suggestion? “Harry never helps me. I can handle it myself, and there’s no use in both of us getting soaked.”
“I’m the innkeeper,” Alex said firmly as he grabbed a jacket. “Besides, we’re on the buddy system, remember?”
“Suit yourself,” Dutch answered as he got his jacket from the rack. “If we’re going, let’s get going.”
The rain was cold and stinging as it came down, and Alex began to regret his decision to help the handyman make his rounds. Then Alex thought of how he hoped Harry would treat his inn back in Elkton Falls, and he knew that he’d made the right decision. The wind was howling loud enough to make conversation difficult, so the two men walked from cottage to cottage in near silence, trying each door, making certain each window was locked and storm shutter closed.
At the far cottage where the Jackson and Michelle had spent the night, the wind died, if only momentarily. Dutch took advantage of the lull and said, “That guy Jackson’s some piece of work, isn’t he?”
“What do you mean?”
“I was working next door, and he ordered me over to fix the dresser in his cottage. He was complaining that one of the drawers was sticking, and I told him that we were beside the ocean. Wood swells, and things stick, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.”
“How did he handle that?”
Dutch grinned at him. “I was a hair’s breath from giving him a black eye when Michelle showed up and smoothed all of the ruffled feathers. She’s way too good for him, if you ask me.”
Alex just shook his head. He wasn’t about to answer that, but it amazed him how some people seemed to bring out the worst in those around them.
As they finished their rounds, Alex was pleased when nothing appeared to be out of place. When they got to Dutch’s little cottage on the way back to the Main Quarters, Dutch said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. I’ve decided to move in with you after all. You might as well come on in with me. I want to grab a few things for tonight.”
Alex readily agreed, eager to get out of the storm. He was pleased to see a large mat covering the scarred hardwood floor, and he stood on that as Dutch gathered a few essentials.
“You ready?” Dutch asked after he was finished.
“In a second. There’s something I want to ask you.”
The handyman grinned at him. “I was wondering why you were so insistent on tagging along. You weren’t concerned about the cottages, were you?”
“I meant what I said,” Alex answered. “But I’ve been wondering about something. Did you know Danvers before he came here yesterday?”
Dutch shook his head. “Nope, not a chance.”
“So, he’s never stayed here before?”
“That I can’t swear to one way or the other,” Dutch said. “I never see most of the guests who come here. My job is to make sure the plumbing works, that the cottages don’t fall down before the ocean swallows them up, and that the lighthouse lantern is always full of kerosene and ready to light. I don’t exactly interact with the paying customers at the inn.”
“Is there really a chance the cottages are going to be underwater someday?”
“Not just a chance,” Dutch said, “It’s a certainty. Most folks, even ones from North Carolina, don’t realize that the Outer Banks shoreline is changing all the time. Sand leaves one place and goes another, and the shore is constantly changing. Why do you think they had to move the Hatteras Lighthouse? If they hadn’t, the only way to get to it by now would have been by boat. In twenty years, this all might be gone. Not nearly as many folks care about Cape Kidd. It’s not what you’d call picturesque now, is it?”
“I love
the tower, whether it’s odd red brick or not,” Alex said. “That’s part of its charm, if you ask me.”
Dutch surprised him with a smile. “I like it, too. Let me tell you something. If you’re ever stuck here in a hurricane, the lighthouse is the place to go. It’s solid and stout, and it’s the best chance you’d ever have to survive. Was there anything else, or should we rejoin our guests?”
“No, that’s it,” Alex said. He had no way to confirm or deny the truth of what Dutch had told him. The man told a plausible story, but he also could have had reasons of his own to want to see the private detective dead. Who knew what secrets might have driven Dutch to the isolation of a lesser lighthouse in a fairly inaccessible spot on the Outer Banks? He liked the man, at least when he’d been talking about the lighthouse, but folks Alex had liked in the past had still turned out to be killers. It was certainly no litmus test of innocence and guilt.
He’d have to keep his eye on the handyman.
Along with everyone else staying at the inn.
When they got to the front porch of the main quarters, Alex saw that Greg Morrison was alone on one of the rocking chairs. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“So far, so good,” Alex said, and then turned to Dutch. “Why don’t you go on in and get dry?”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” This was the perfect opportunity to talk to Greg without his sister and brother around, and Alex wasn’t about to miss the chance to interview him.
After Dutch went inside, Alex said, “It’s really coming down.”
“Not much of a vacation spot, is it?” Greg asked. “No offense, but I doubt I’ll ever want to come back here.”
“Hey, why would that offend me? It’s not my inn, remember?” Alex asked.
“Sure, that’s right. It’s easy to forget. You and Elise look pretty comfortable here.”
“What can I say? We both have an affinity for lighthouses.” He took a deep breath, and then added, “I just can’t believe someone was murdered here. It’s a shame Danvers was killed. He didn’t deserve the ending he got, if you ask me.”
Greg snorted. “You can’t know that, though, do you? He could have been a real jerk who got what was coming to him, and not merit your sympathy at all.”
Alex stared at him for a second. “You sound like you knew him.”
Greg just shook his head, clearly hoping to end that part of their conversation, but Alex wasn’t about to let up. “Greg, I saw your face when you looked at that picture. You and your family were acquainted with him, weren’t you?”
“You’re crazy,” Greg said, “and I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.” He started to get up, but Alex wouldn’t move enough to let him leave.
“Am I? How hard do you think the police are going to have to look to find a connection between the murder victim and your family?”
“Let them look,” Greg answered. “We didn’t do anything.”
“Think about this, then. You have the chance to come clean with us right now. If you don’t tell the truth, we’re all going to say that you hid it from us. Lying isn’t exactly going to get you a free pass with the police. They’re going to focus on the three of you, and the real killer might go free.”
“Why would that bother me?” Greg asked. “Now I’m telling you to move, or I’ll move you myself, Alex. I’m going inside.”
“That’s a good idea,” Alex said. “Let’s both go. I want to have a chat with your sister, anyway.”
That appeared to scare Greg more than the threat of the police. “Don’t say a word to her. I didn’t tell you anything.”
“There, you’re wrong.”
Greg tried to grab Alex’s arm, but it was too late.
He walked into the inn and said directly to Elizabeth, “You might as well confess. Your brother just told me everything.”
“You fool,” Elizabeth spat out at her brother.
“He’s lying,” Greg pled.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as she looked back at Alex. “Is that true?”
“I know you had a connection to Danvers. All I’m not certain of is the degree you three knew him. I told your brother, and now I’m going to say the same thing to you. If you don’t tell us how you’re mixed up in all of this, the rest of us are going to have to tell the police that you all held out on us. How do you think that’s going to look? Deny it all you want, but we saw your brother’s reaction to that picture, and you were just a little too calm when you examined the body this morning.”
Jackson said, “He’s right. You might as well tell us. After all, we told you our secret, and it can’t be much worse than that.”
“Michelle told us, to be more exact,” Elizabeth said.
Jackson waved a hand in the air. “What does it matter? We don’t have anything to hide.” He looked pointedly at her. “Do you?”
“I don’t suppose you’re going to stop pestering us until we tell you,” Elizabeth said.
John interjected. “Elizabeth, we’re under no obligation to say anything.”
“Let me handle this, John.”
He just shook his head. “Go ahead, do what you want. You’re going to, anyway.”
She nodded, took a deep breath, and then said, “You might as well grab a towel, dry off, and sit down. This might take some time to tell.”
“Let me get Elise first,” Alex said. He hurried into the kitchen as he dried his hair, and then said, “You two need to come into the lobby.”
“What happened? Did someone else die?” Michelle asked with a horrified expression on her face.
“No, the Morrisons are about to tell us their connection to Danvers, and I didn’t think you’d want to miss it.”
“Let’s go, Michelle,” Elise said, and in another thirty seconds, they were all in the lobby.
“Go on,” Alex said as soon as everyone was in place, and Elizabeth Morrison began to speak.
Chapter 8
“Our father was many things,” she began to say when John interrupted her.
“It’s none of their business,” John said. “We don’t owe them any explanations.”
Elizabeth gave him a withering look. “I’m going to tell this, whether you like it or not. Alex is right. The longer we keep this to ourselves, the worse it will look to the police. We knew Mr. Danvers, and there’s no use denying it. Now, may I continue, or would you like to excuse yourself from this discussion?”
“I’m staying,” John said softly.
“Pardon? I didn’t hear you.”
“I said I’m staying,” John repeated.
Before Elizabeth would continue, she turned to Greg. “I assume you have no problem with this, since you’re the one who brought it up.”
“I keep telling you, I didn’t say anything,” Greg insisted.
Alex shrugged. “That’s not entirely true. You said enough to get me suspicious.”
Greg hung his head low, but he didn’t try to deny it anymore. Elizabeth, to Alex’s surprise, touched her brother’s shoulder. “Greg, you have nothing to feel bad about. The more I think about it, I realize we should have done this the moment we found the body.”
Her brother looked up at her, but he still wouldn’t meet anyone else’s gaze.
Elizabeth smiled softly at him, and Greg seemed to take great comfort in it.
“As I was saying,” she continued, “we’ve known Mr. Danvers for the past seven months. He was the direct cause of our father’s death, and none of us will ever forgive him for the role he played in his tragic end.”
“What are you talking about?” Elise asked. “How did he cause it? Did he pull actually kill him?”
“No, but he may as well have put his hand on my father’s back and pushed him off that bridge in Wilmington. Father was never good with money. Let me amend that. He was good at making it; holding on to it was another thing entirely. He would never admit that he was in trouble, and if he needed help, the last thing he would have done was
turn to us, though we would have been joyous to help him. You see, our grandfather could both earn and grow the money he made. He didn’t respect our father’s ability to handle his earnings, so when our grandfather died, he left his estate in three equal portions, divided between the three of us.”
“Cutting your dad out altogether,” Jackson said. “That’s some tough love.”
Elizabeth looked at him harshly. “He thought he was saving him. If father had to stand on his own, without family money to bail him out every time he lost his savings, grandfather believed it would make him a man.”
“As if he weren’t already,” John said.
“He was indeed,” Elizabeth agreed.
“You shouldn’t blame yourselves. He couldn’t have asked you for help,” Alex said.
“And why not?” Greg asked. “He knew we would give him whatever he wanted.”
“That’s just it. It was his father’s money in his mind, forever, not yours. The last thing your dad would do if he had any sense of pride whatever would be to take that money after his father was dead. It wouldn’t have been possible for him.”
“He was a proud man,” Greg said so softly Alex barely heard him.
“And that was one of his fatal flaws,” Elizabeth said.
“I don’t see where the private detective comes into it,” Michelle said.
Everyone looked at her, and then at Elizabeth. “I’m just getting to that. The last time father got in trouble, it was with someone else’s money, not ours, and not his. He ‘borrowed’ from a trust account he was supposed to be investing, and the investor began to suspect something. She hired Danvers to look into it, and he found the crime quickly enough.”
“The PI was just doing his job,” Alex said. “You can’t fault the man for that.”
“If he’d gone straight the investor, or even to the police, with his knowledge, we could have lived with it. What he did instead was approach our father, demand a payment for his silence, and then start applying more and more pressure until our father jumped off that bridge.”
