by Joyce Lavene
I couldn’t be sure what the flash was, maybe just a glint of sunlight reflected off of one of the cars going by. After my coffee card was summarily dismissed as unimportant, I didn’t feel much like sharing another ghost of a thought, but I told them anyway. “I saw a flash of light.”
“It’s possible she caught someone lighting the cannon,” Brad theorized.
Cailey agreed, sitting forward in her seat. “Are you sure you didn’t see anything else with that flash of light, Dae? A face or a car? Anything could help us.”
“No. I’m sorry. I wish I could help. It all happened so quickly,” I explained.
“We understand.” Cailey patted my gloved hands and smiled. “If you think of anything else, let us know right away. You’re lucky to be alive. It could’ve been so much worse if everyone else had still been in the museum.”
Everyone in the room agreed. A few minutes of dead silence followed as we considered the wider tragedy that had been narrowly averted. It made me wish I could say something about the coffee card belonging to Sam, even though I didn’t believe he had anything to do with Max’s death. The two men may have disagreed, but that’s a long way from murder.
“Thank you for your time, Mayor O’Donnell.” Brad broke free from the trance we all seemed to be in. He got to his feet and offered me his hand. When I didn’t offer mine in return, he frowned. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I hope your hands weren’t too badly injured. We’ll update you when we can about the situation. Everything we’ve found at the museum will have to be shipped to the lab and analyzed, including your coin. The process will be slow but thorough.”
I realized he’d given me the perfect excuse for wearing the gloves until I found a way to handle my new abilities. No one had to know the real reason I was wearing gloves—except Kevin. “Thanks. I set up a special town meeting for tomorrow night at seven. If all of you could be there to answer as many questions as you can, that would be great.”
The chief and Cailey kind of hesitated but eventually said they’d attend, barring emergencies. Brad kind of grunted and walked out of the room. I wasn’t sure if that meant he’d be there or not.
“Now all we have to do is deal with all the pirate curse rumors,” Cailey said. “It’s amazing how long people will hold on to something like that.”
“I plan to address that tomorrow night.” I smiled at both of them. “Someone needs to set the record straight.”
Cailey looked at Chief Michaels and they both laughed. “Good luck with that, Mayor,” Chief Michaels added. “I suppose you think you’re the first person who’s tried to lay the ghost of Rafe Masterson to rest.”
Tim cleared his throat. “It kind of makes sense. I mean, someone fired a cannon at the museum.”
“Which should not be common knowledge yet,” Chief Michaels reminded him with a stern expression. “We haven’t said anything about a cannon to the press.”
His reprimand slid off of Tim like rain off a fisherman’s slicker. “Maybe Rafe came to get his gold back. He vowed revenge, don’t forget, and we don’t know whose gold it was that Max found.”
We all stared at Tim and he shrugged. “That’s what people will say when they find out what happened.”
“Which they won’t find out from this office,” Chief Michaels said pointedly.
“What’s next?” I asked to change the subject. This was getting us nowhere. “Where will the investigation go from here?”
“It’s hard to say.” Cailey hedged, obviously not wanting to share. “We’ll look into all the leads we have and analyze the fire.”
“You’ll have to talk to Sam Meacham too.” Tim echoed what I was thinking. “Everyone knows what went on between him and Max. Besides Rafe, Sam is the most likely suspect in this case.”
When Cailey and the chief didn’t disagree, I knew they were thinking the same thing, probably minus Rafe being the top suspect. I didn’t believe a pirate ghost caused the explosion that killed Max. But I also had trouble believing Sam killed him. Anything was possible, but that seemed like a stretch to me. Unfortunately, Sam’s acrimonious relationship with Max was not the only factor piqueing everyone’s interest. He also had access to a working cannon and everyone knew he envied the gold coins in the Duck museum. Corolla’s historical museum didn’t have any real gold coins.
Cailey drifted out of my office toward the front door. Tim stepped outside on the boardwalk to take a call from his police radio.
“You look nice, Dae,” Chief Michaels said. “I hope you’re feeling better soon. Horace was sick with worry about you when he heard what happened. I had to have someone drive him to the hospital. I was afraid he might get in a wreck or get arrested if he drove himself there.”
“Thanks. I’m fine.” I couldn’t have been more surprised that the chief noticed how I looked. And I appreciated the way he had taken care of Gramps. I knew he meant well. We didn’t always see eye-to-eye on things, but he was a good man to have in your corner during trouble.
He nodded, cleared his throat and left the office behind Cailey and Tim.
“Well?” Nancy asked when we were alone.
I glanced at the big clock on the wall and my heart started pounding. My palms were sweaty and my face felt hot. “I think it’s time for dinner.”
She smiled. “I thought you must have a date.
“Yes. Well, not exactly a date, maybe.” I bit my lip to stop stammering. “I’m not sure.”
“You look great! Go knock him dead, girl!”
It wasn’t a long walk from town hall and the Duck Shoppes to the Blue Whale Inn. My mind went there before my body, flying down the stairs to the parking lot and out past the small commercial area of town.
My body paused outside town hall. Trudy’s words about Kevin using me to get over Shayla made my feet a little cold in my new shoes. Maybe I shouldn’t try to make him think of me in a romantic way just yet.
Not that I’d really thought through or planned out exactly what I was going to do to accomplish that goal. I’d never purposely set out to seduce a man, if that was what I was thinking. Maybe “seduce” wasn’t the right word—just make him more aware of me. We might be good together as more than friends. But I’d never set out to do that either.
It wasn’t like I was a complete novice. I’d dated through high school and college. I’d even dated occasionally since then. But being in a very small area, where the boys you grew up with became the men you’d already decided against, made it difficult. As Trudy had noted, we don’t get many new, single men who want to live in Duck.
My loosely considered plan to go home first, shower, put on my new perfume, redo my hair and find Grandma’s pearls would make me late for my six P.M. dinner with Kevin. There was only about twenty minutes left.
Maybe I should call and cancel, with regrets. Did I really feel up to doing something important like this right now? What if Trudy was right and it was only a reaction from almost getting killed?
I walked down the stairs to the parking lot and took out my cell phone, totally losing my nerve. It was one thing to get all dressed up and think about having dinner alone with Kevin and another to really do it.
“Ready?” His voice startled me.
“Uh—”
“I thought I’d save you the walk.” He looked at my pretty new shoes. “Good thing, I guess, since those don’t look like walking shoes.”
“I—”
“Do you need to go home first?”
This actually required an answer. I kind of stood there, staring at him. I swallowed hard and tried to shore up my crumbling backbone. “I was about to call you—”
“Now you don’t have to. We can talk in the truck on the way over.”
We were drifting into the parking lot toward his pickup. He held the passenger side door open and I climbed inside. Trudy must be right. This had to be part of my injury. I can’t even form whole sentences.
Kevin got in and slid behind the wheel. That’s when I noticed that he was wearing a tie
. A tie! It was beyond a doubt the most awful tie I’d ever seen, some kind of brown with yellow flecks in it.
I’d never seen him wear a tie or the lightweight brown sport jacket he had on. He’d told me once that he’d thrown his suits away before he left Washington, never to wear them again.
I suddenly realized that he was dressed up for me, like I was dressed up for him. The implication of that hit me like a storm wave, tumbling my thoughts but making my heart feel much lighter. I wasn’t nervous anymore. Having dinner alone with me meant something to him too.
What it meant remained to be seen, but it was a start. “You look nice,” I said without putting much thought into it.
“Thanks.” He smiled. “You look spectacular!”
“Thanks.” My heart was definitely feeling warmer now, along with the rest of me.
“What did you want to tell me?”
I looked at his hair and freshly shaved face. He smelled really good. I was used to seeing him in T-shirts and jeans. Not that he didn’t look good in those too. “I don’t know.”
We both laughed and he started the truck. Maybe he was nervous too.
“Still wearing the gloves, I see.”
I glanced at my hands. “The arson investigator gave me a good excuse at the meeting today. Everyone thinks my hands were burned.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“For right now it is. I don’t have to touch anyone or anything. I don’t know what else to do until I understand it better.”
He nodded, his eyes focused on the narrow road that led to the Blue Whale. “How did the meeting go today?”
I couldn’t think of any reason not to tell him what happened. Nothing earth-shattering or even terribly secret had transpired. “Which makes our top suspect a two-hundred-year-old pirate ghost.”
“I was wondering about that. A few of the firemen at the museum talked about this being Rafe’s fault. I thought he was a past mayor or something.”
“You should’ve asked. I’m sure they would’ve been glad to tell you the story. Anyone from Duck loves to tell it.”
“But basically, the chief likes this man from the museum in Corolla for what happened.”
“I think so.” I looked at the three-story Blue Whale Inn, freshly painted—blue, of course, to match its name—after thirty years of being a ramshackle eyesore. I had a T-shirt with paint on it from the job.
The circle drive was clean, and the grass beside it had been recently trimmed. It curled around a fountain with a mermaid in it. The wide verandah had a welcoming look, with white wicker chairs and hanging plants. The old hitching post, where guests had once tied up their rides and sneaked inside to share some bathtub gin with friends, was polished. The Blue Whale had become an asset to the community again.
“We’re open Thursday through Sunday now since the tourists have slowed down,” Kevin explained as I noticed that there were no other cars in the parking lot.
He parked in front and turned off the truck. “We have a few parties coming up for the holidays, but I think I’ll have time now to get some work done on the place. I still haven’t really touched the third floor.”
“What about your staff?” I knew he’d hired about fifteen people, some full- and some part-time.
“I had to lay a few off for the winter, but I kept most of them.” He came around and opened the truck door for me. “But tonight’s Wednesday and no one’s here except us. I made lasagna for you.”
So we would be totally alone in the old place. I got out of the truck. The smell of the ocean was strong here, much stronger than on the Currituck side even though it wasn’t that far away. I could hear the waves breaking on the shore. Wind chimes rang out in the constant breeze that kept our trees dwarfed.
As we walked up the stairs, I suddenly felt another attack of nerves. Despite the fact that he was dressed up too, or maybe because of it, I was uncertain. What if this went badly? Was this the time to do something that might lead to disaster? Kevin and I were friends. Did I want to jeopardize that relationship?
“Something wrong?” he asked as he unlocked the front door. “You seem a long way off all of a sudden.”
“I was thinking that I meant to water my begonias tonight.” Okay, it wasn’t the best excuse. It was all I could think of and better than “I have to go home and wash my hair.”
He smiled and held out his hand to me. “Let’s eat first. You’re going to love my new dessert. The begonias will probably survive until you get back. Are you—nervous?”
I licked my lips, torn between being careful and being honest, always a mayor’s dilemma. “Yes,” I finally admitted with a husky laugh. “I guess I am. It’s been a long time . . . since I, uh, ate dinner.”
“Me too.” He laughed. “But they say it comes right back to you. It’s like riding a bike.”
“There’s one other thing I have to get straight.”
“You’re procrastinating, Dae.”
“Not anymore.”
He closed the front door and I leaned against him, kissing him gently on the lips.
“That’s what I thought,” he whispered as he put his arms around me and drew me closer.
“What?” I murmured with what felt like a permanent smile on my face.
“We’ve wasted a lot of time.”
We talked and laughed through salad, lasagna and a very good wine served in the vintage bar off the huge dining room. There were candles on the table, and the French doors stood open a little to catch the scent and sound of the sea.
“What’s the first thing you ever found for anyone?” he asked as he dished up his new dessert, a raspberry version of tiramisu.
“I don’t know. My mother always said I walked around finding things when I was a baby. A toddler, I guess. Keys, change, you name it. Gramps lost his pocket watch in the basement once, and I led him right to it even though I’d never been down there.”
“You have an amazing gift.” He smiled at me as he sat back down. “I’m surprised you never tried to exploit it.”
“I did a little in college. I used to take five dollars from my friends to find things for them. That’s as close as I ever came to making money that way. My mom and my grandfather drummed it into me that my gift was only supposed to help others. They said it would go away if I did anything bad with it.”
“It has to belong to the person,” he quoted me, “and it can’t be illegal.”
“That’s right. So I hope your missing wine fits my rules.”
“You won’t know until you try.” He sobered and held both his hands out to me. “Will you try?”
I was a little tipsy from too much wine and too happy to protest. If he needed to find some wine, I wanted to help him. I stripped off the gloves and took his hands.
Immediately I felt the normal (for me) sensations of being in someone else’s mind. I shook all over and felt a kind of cold detachment as I searched for the cask of wine he was missing. My fingers tingled holding his hands.
It was a lot like walking through someone’s personal attic, looking at everything they found precious and some things they wanted to keep hidden. I’d done it for so long that it was second nature to me.
I opened my eyes when I clearly saw the old wine cask. “It’s in the root cellar around back. The man who delivered it got confused and left it there.”
Kevin smiled and didn’t let go of my hands. “You’ve still got it!”
I considered his words. “I do, don’t I?” I didn’t tell him I already knew my gift was still there.
“Let’s go see if we can find it!”
We walked around back, the quiet night well lit by the moon. Kevin brought a flashlight anyway. “Have you been back here before?” I asked as an owl called from the trees.
“A lot while I was working on the floors. They were in really good shape. Some things were built to last forever.”
“No bones from previous owners?”
“No. If Bunk Whitley is entombed here, I could
n’t find him. Neither could the parade of building inspectors who passed through.”
Bunk Whitley was a legendary figure in Duck. He was the original owner of the Blue Whale. His exploits, and sudden disappearance, were all the stuff of lore. People had speculated that he was killed by one of his enemies and hidden in the old inn somewhere. With the place abandoned for so long, it was easy to imagine it was true. Still, if he wasn’t here, he had to be somewhere. He might wash up someday.
Kevin opened the doors to the root cellar and walked carefully down the stairs until he was swallowed by the blackness below. I followed him, my feet sliding a little on the moss-covered steps.
“There it is!” He panned the flashlight beam across the area. “You’re good, Dae.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t expecting it when he leaned over and kissed me, but I can’t say I didn’t welcome it—kissing Kevin was a lot more fun than looking for a missing cask of wine.
He handed me the flashlight (made at a factory in China where they employed small children), then hoisted the cask on his shoulder before we started back out of the damp cellar.
“You know, this place might not be too bad for storing a few things,” he said.
“Maybe. If you don’t mind it being flooded occasionally.” The place was filled with roly-poly bugs, spiders and probably a snake or two I didn’t see. Not exactly the romantic spot I’d expected to be in.
The flashlight beam shone on something stuck against the side wall of the cellar. I reached for it without thinking and the touch exploded in my brain.
Chapter 8
It was a gold coin, a cousin to the one I’d given Chief Michaels. It was from the same chest that had washed up on the beach all those years ago. The one Max claimed to have found and donated to the museum.
But this time I had a clear vision of the man who’d actually found the gold. I saw him as he walked down the beach to retrieve the chest. I knew who he was. I recognized him from the old microfiche versions of the Duck Gazette that had been stored at the museum. Gone forever now, except in some of our memories.
