A Spirited Gift mpm-3

by Joyce Lavene

  “But you trusted him enough to let him stay at Missing Pieces. You know he’s done everything from con games to breaking and entering. You may be letting the fact that he’s your father overshadow who he really is.”

  “I know.”

  “For someone who seems so upfront about everything—you have a lot of layers.”

  “Yeah,” I joked. “They used to call me Onion Head when I was a kid.”

  The remark didn’t get the laugh I was hoping for. “Nothing happened, Kevin. It’s not like he’s a criminal or something—”

  “You mean at least not right now?”

  “I just need some time before I spring it on him that he has a daughter.”

  “What about your grandfather?”

  “I need some time for him too. I don’t know how he’s going to take it when he finds out.” I told him about Gramps giving my father money and threatening him to get him to leave.

  “Okay. I can see it’s a delicate matter. Let me change my clothes and we’ll go.”

  “Thanks.” I hugged him. “I knew I could count on you.”

  “Really? That’s why you didn’t tell me about it sooner?”

  I sighed. It was going to be a long drive to Manteo.

  Chapter 26

  As we drove to the county jail, I was amazed all over again at all the damage the storm had done. No matter how many times I saw the aftermath, I was still struck by the awesome power of the wind and sea. A real hurricane would’ve been much worse—but the damage to homes and business property, not to mention house-size piles of rubble and garbage, was bad enough. I was just glad no one had been reported seriously injured or dead—besides Sandi, of course.

  And that was a different story. I hoped the police would figure it out quickly. The longer people were left to wonder who the murderer was, the worse it would be for Duck. I hated to be part of the crowd wishing Matthew Wright had killed Sandi because he couldn’t break up with her, but it would be better news for the residents of Duck if that were the case.

  In the meantime, I had to focus on getting my father out of jail.

  “I don’t think they’ll let you take him home because you give them a big smile,” Kevin said as he parked his pickup in the Dare County municipal parking lot.

  “I don’t see why not,” I argued. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Tim misunderstood the situation.”

  “You probably should have brought Tim with you. As arresting officer—if he agreed with you, it would be much easier.”

  “You’re probably right. But that would’ve meant telling Tim who he was. By tonight, everyone in Duck would know my father was sleeping at the shop. I was trying to avoid that.”

  “Let’s see what we can do.” He opened the door and took my hand as we walked across the parking lot. “Maybe you’ll get lucky. It seems to me that your father has already run into a streak of luck by meeting you.”

  “I don’t know if he’ll feel that way, since he’s lost everything. I don’t really know what he’s like, Kevin. But I know he was going to sleep behind the trash bin. No one should be down that low.”

  He kissed my forehead. “You’re a very good person, Dae. I hope you won’t let him take advantage of you.”

  “I’m sure you won’t let him—you seem to follow me everywhere. Just stop him before that happens.”

  “I wish I could.” He opened the glass door that was still sporting large masking tape X’s to protect it from the storm.

  The county jail was bustling with hundreds of people. They all seemed to be going in different directions. The woman at the front desk looked especially harried—there was a pencil stuck almost straight up in her dark hair and a long pen streak on one cheek.

  “I can’t do what you’re asking,” she told me. “But lucky for you, the assistant DA is here, and she can probably help you. Lord knows we need to get some of these people out of here. The state will shut us down if they find out how many inmates we have right now.”

  She pointed to a door down the hall on the right. Kevin and I continued our search there. I knocked on the door labeled “Conference Room,” and when there was no answer, I opened it and went inside.

  People were lined up wall to wall waiting to talk with a diminutive woman in a navy blue suit who was seated at a long table. There were so many briefcases—probably one for every lawyer present—they could’ve opened a luggage store.

  People ranging from senior citizens to teenagers were trying to get their cases heard. Everything from breaking and entering (supposedly to get out of the storm) to stealing cars (to get away from the storm) was on the docket. No wonder they wanted to get a few people out of there.

  I wasn’t sure what the protocol was in cases like this, but when the assistant DA called, “Next!” Kevin pushed me forward. I stared at her for a moment, then told her the whole story about my father mistakenly being arrested in my shop.

  I expected some questions, maybe paperwork, asking to talk to the arresting officer—everything except her saying, “So you aren’t willing to press charges. Here you go.” She handed me a file and I was dismissed from the group that surrounded her. “Take that to the sergeant at the admitting desk. He’ll tell you where you can pick him up. Next!”

  I was stunned and happy. I almost didn’t know what to do. I’d been expecting such a major ordeal, and it was nothing. I grabbed Kevin’s hand and we left the crowded room.

  “I guess they have so many people in custody that they don’t want to deal with anyone they don’t have to.” He shrugged. “You lucked out.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I agreed. “Let’s find my father and get out of here.”

  We walked around until we found the right desk and gave the man behind it the file. He looked at it, shrugged and called to have Danny Evans brought up. He stamped the file, and we moved to one side so the people behind us could do their business.

  Too bad the people behind us were police officers—Tim and Scott.

  “Dae?” Tim looked surprised and puzzled. “Brickman? What are you doing here?”

  Chapter 27

  A hundred excuses came to mind. I was the mayor. I could be conducting all sorts of town business with the admitting office at the county jail. None of those excuses made any sense, so none of them made it to my lips.

  Tim and Scott held a large, burly man dressed in overalls between them. He was covered in what appeared to be blood. There was a large cut on his head.

  “Mr. Borden?” I looked a little closer and realized that I knew him. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure thing, Mayor. It was nice of you to be here and see me off. You should’a seen the other fella.” He chuckled. “He was a mess.”

  He smelled strongly of whiskey. I knew from past experience that Mr. Borden ended up here a time or two every year when he got a little carried away while drinking.

  “Wilbur got into a fight with his next-door neighbor—again—this time about a tree that came down in his yard during the storm,” Scott explained.

  “I couldn’t even get out of my driveway,” Mr. Borden added. “How is that fair, Mayor? I asked him politely to move it, but he didn’t. We got into an argument. He punched me—I punched him. He hit me with my own bottle of whiskey. I hit him back with a tree limb.”

  “And Mr. Arthur, your neighbor, is in the hospital,” Tim reminded him.

  Mr. Borden shrugged. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far, Mayor. If you can help me out with this, I’ll be sure to vote for you next year.”

  I appreciated the offer and could relate to having a tree in the way, but this wasn’t a good way to handle it. “I’m sorry, Mr. Borden. I wish I could help. Maybe Mr. Arthur won’t press charges against you.”

  “Are you two dropping off or what?” the sergeant behind the desk growled at Duck’s finest.

  “Don’t move,” Tim said to me. “I want to know what’s going on after we get Mr. Borden processed. I think you at least owe me that much.”

  I w
asn’t sure why I owed him anything, but Tim had his own guidelines on these things. I didn’t plan to wait around for the conversation—we could talk later in private.

  But the side door buzzed open to admit Mr. Borden at the same time that the deputies released my father. They passed each other in the doorway.

  “Hey! Wait a minute,” Tim protested. “You can’t just let this man go. I arrested him for breaking and entering last night at Missing Pieces.” He looked back at me. “Dae, did you bail him out?”

  “Not exactly.” I wished I didn’t have to deal with this right now.

  “He doesn’t look like he’s escaping,” Scott remarked. “Someone posted bail for him.”

  “Not exactly?” Tim asked. “Then what?”

  Two deputies took custody of Mr. Borden, who went along peacefully, knowing the drill too well. I could hardly grab my father and make a run for the front door. I looked at Kevin, who shrugged but didn’t say anything. I guessed this was my mess to clean up.

  “I asked him to stay there,” I explained. “Danny Evans, this is Officer Tim Mabry.”

  “We’re acquainted.” Danny nodded.

  “And Officer Scott Randall,” I continued while my brain searched frantically for a way to explain the situation without revealing our relationship. This definitely wasn’t the place I wanted everything to come out.

  “My house is flooded,” Danny said. “I work at the Sailor’s Dream—also flooded. My van is wrecked. Your mayor showed me some Christian kindness that I didn’t know existed anymore. She let me stay at her shop instead of on the street. She bought me a meal and made me feel like I mattered to the world for a change. Then you two showed up.”

  He spoke with a passion that silenced Tim’s outrage. Best of all, his explanation had nothing to do with him being my father. It seemed I was spared from explaining after all. I’d felt so guilty and conscious of my secret that I hadn’t realized there was something else to say.

  Tim turned to me and I nodded. “I didn’t think about you noticing that someone else was in Missing Pieces.”

  He looked uncomfortable. “I always check up on you—the shop, I mean. It’s part of my routine. Just to make sure everything is okay in town. You know?”

  I smiled. It seemed Kevin wasn’t my only guardian angel.

  “I feel like a fool,” Tim said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Evans. If the phones would’ve been working, my first course of action in these circumstances would’ve been to call the mayor and ask her what was going on. I hope you won’t sue the town for wrongful prosecution.”

  Danny shook his hand. “I don’t think I’d do that, since Dae came to get me out. But thanks for the apology, Officer.”

  After a long, awkward moment of silence, Kevin said, “Right. I guess we’ll go now. See you guys later. Take care.”

  The three of us walked out to Kevin’s pickup, leaving the two officers to file their reports and head back to Duck later. Once we were in the pickup and driving down the road, Kevin kept up a conversation with Danny, asking him about himself in subtle ways that I understood—he was trying to get more information about my father.

  I interrupted a few times, but their conversation continued across me, since I was sitting in between them. Maybe it was just as well. I wasn’t sure what to say at this point. Danny sounded like he thought I was near sainthood for getting him out of jail.

  Of course, I was nothing of the sort. I’d done what any daughter would do for her father. Because he didn’t know the truth, I felt awkward trying to explain. I was the mayor, but I didn’t rush down to Manteo to bail out every Duck citizen who went to jail. Although I assured myself that I would’ve done the same for anyone I’d let stay at Missing Pieces.

  I just wasn’t sure who else that would be.

  We drove to the Blue Whale again. I started to ask why we hadn’t gone to Missing Pieces, but Kevin seemed determined to get back to his place and check out what was going on. I had a feeling this was all for show—he’d probably insist that Danny stay here in one of his spare rooms. And that was okay. At least I wouldn’t be in the awkward position of trying to explain our—mine and Danny’s—relationship to anyone else.

  Danny accepted Kevin’s offer of room and board until he could get back on his feet. He shook Kevin’s hand, then impulsively hugged me. We were standing on the verandah, still away from the suspect-finding process going on inside. I hoped it was a safe place to be seen with him, since there was no doubt in my mind that Chief Michaels would know Danny too—and might even know he was my father.

  When I was growing up, I thought Duck was the simplest, easiest-to-understand place in the world. I heard visitors say the same thing all the time.

  But Duck, like me, had a lot of layers (to borrow a phrase from Kevin). Some of them were long-buried secrets that were known only to a few people. My life seemed to be part of those secrets, just like Rafe Masterson’s. I guessed we had that in common.

  Before I could move away from Danny’s embrace, Gramps came out the front door with Chief Michaels. They both frowned when they saw us. I waited—holding my breath. Gramps didn’t say anything—neither did the chief. I wasn’t sure whether they were so deep in conversation they hadn’t seen us, or they were purposefully choosing not to comment about Danny in front of other people.

  They nodded to the three of us and kept walking. I watched them get into a squad car and drive away. It was possible that I was safe for now. Or there might be hell to pay later.

  Chapter 28

  We stood on the verandah for a few more minutes. I kept expecting that squad car to turn around and come back. I remembered several times when I was about sixteen that Gramps had made that untidy U-turn. There are some things you never seem to grow out of.

  Danny didn’t seem to recognize Gramps either. But it had been many years since they’d seen each other. He also didn’t cringe—at least not too much—when he saw Chief Michaels. I took that as a good sign that he probably wasn’t actively in any trouble right now.

  I still remembered how all the kids who were in and out of trouble would turn their heads, hunker down in their jackets and otherwise try to hide when Gramps used to take me to school in his uniform. It was embarrassing.

  “Come on,” Kevin finally said. “Let’s get you settled in somewhere.”

  “If I can do anything to help out while I’m here . . .” Danny offered.

  “I’m sure I can find you something to do,” Kevin answered. “There’s always something to do around here.”

  I went inside with them. The level of chaos seemed the same as when we’d left. Deputies questioned the conference attendees, who in turn struggled to remember who was and wasn’t around them in the lobby during the storm.

  This seemed like a perfect opportunity for me to have a look at Sandi’s and Matthew’s rooms again. Last time, people had been with me—I do my best finding alone.

  Despite other people searching the rooms, I still thought they might have missed something only I could find. I knew the rooms would be officially off-limits—part of the crime scene by now.

  But if there weren’t any officers stationed at the rooms, and I was careful, I couldn’t see where it would hurt anything for me to look around. Hopefully I’d find something with more intrinsic value than the ruby ring. It wasn’t much help when people had to take my word for what I felt. Even the keys were doubtful as evidence, since I was the only one who could tell Sandi was angry when she threw them.

  I crept upstairs past familiar faces who were busy writing down explanations they thought the police would like to see. I made my way back to Sandi’s room, opened the door, and carefully slipped under the crime scene tape.

  I turned around to start searching—Rafe was sitting on the bed. I jumped a little and he laughed. “You’re too nervy by half, girl. You should be expecting my company by now. I’m never far away.”

  “The way you blew out of the house this morning, I thought maybe you were gone for good,” I whispere
d, not wanting anyone alive to hear me.

  “Unlikely,” he said. “Just because I was riled by what ye said doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

  “Then be prepared—you might not like the answers I find.”

  “Any answers that prove I was unjustly accused and hanged are fine.” He watched me look around the room. “What are ye searching for now?”

  “Something to help the police chief figure out who killed Sandi. Either Matthew Wright is guilty or someone else is. The obvious person isn’t always the right one.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. I was the obvious person when they hanged me—but not the guilty one.”

  “We’ll go next door to the museum when I get done here,” I promised. “But I’d appreciate it if you could be quiet right now so I can think.”

  “You’re a cheeky wench, by God that’s the truth! You don’t deserve the information about the murder you find so much more interesting than my own.”

  “What kind of information?” I asked, not really paying much attention. Ghosts seemed to be oblivious to their annoying habits.

  “Only that your chief suspect has crossed over.”

  “Crossed over what?”

  “Crossed over—don’t be so thick! I know you understand the King’s English!”

  I stopped looking in one of the dresser drawers. “You mean he’s dead?”

  “Most people would assume that.”

  “How do you know?”

  He began rising from the bed toward the ceiling—a movement he made whenever he was upset, I’d noticed. “How do ye think I know? Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe you’re related to me. It must be the foul air or the strange food you eat that keeps your brain from working as it should.”

  “Are you sure?” I started thinking about Gramps and Chief Michaels leaving the Blue Whale while the investigation was still going on. They might have heard about Matthew’s death. “Where is he?”