by Eva Gates
“We’ll find our way out,” Elizabeth said. She looked straight into my eyes as she passed. “Norman, can you remind me what happened to the Jane Austin first editions when they were on loan here?”
“Stolen,” he said with a sad shake of his head.
“They were all recovered,” I said. “In perfect condition.”
“You were most fortunate,” Elizabeth said. “That time.”
Chapter Eleven
I thought steam might rise from the top of Bertie’s head.
But it didn’t, and she and I, accompanied by Charles, followed the couple from Blacklock College to the front door. Not from any desire on our part to be polite, but to ensure they left the premises without pocketing any goods or peeking into corners in search of incriminating evidence.
“Was that weird, or what?” I said, as we watched their car disappear between the tall pines. I rubbed the top of Charles’s head. Good cat! He’d refrained from sinking his claws into our visitors. That would have been satisfying to see, but we didn’t need a lawsuit.
“It was weird, all right,” Bertie said. “Subtlety is not their middle name. Today’s Charlene’s day off, and Ronald has a children’s program later. Tomorrow, you and I are going to Blacklock College.”
“Why?”
“I can’t truly say. To dig up the dirt maybe. If there is any dirt to dig. Those two are academics; maybe they aren’t aware of how offensive they’ve been.”
“They know,” I said.
“I was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. I want to find out what, if anything, is going on at that college.”
We went back to work. Ronald took his lunch break, and I set about tidying the library after the hordes of children and parents had passed through. When everything was once again (temporarily) to my satisfaction and no one needed my help, I went outside to check my phone. Cell phone signals have trouble penetrating the thick stone walls of the library. Sometimes they get through, and sometimes they don’t. I haven’t yet determined what’s the deciding factor—other than the more important the call, the less likely it is to work.
The minute I stepped outside into the warm fresh air, my phone beeped. Julia had left a message on my voicemail, asking me to call her back.
I did so, and she answered on the first ring.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she said, her voice low and hesitant, “but you did say I could ask you if I needed anything.”
“I’m happy to help.”
“Will you have dinner with us tonight?”
“Dinner?”
“If you don’t have plans, that is.”
“No, I don’t have plans.” I’d gone outside to check my phone, sort of hoping while at the same time sort of not hoping to hear from Connor.
“Great. I’m sick of this hotel. Do you know a nice restaurant? Dinner’s on me.”
“Jake’s Seafood Bar is good, and not too far.”
“I’ll make a reservation for seven o’clock. Is that too early?”
“No, seven is fine. Will anyone else be joining us?”
“Greg, of course.”
Of course.
“I asked your friend Theodore also,” Julia said. “He’s so sweet. He said he’d be delighted.”
I bet he was.
“And … uh…”
“Yes?” I asked.
“My mother.” Julia gave a laugh that came out more like a strangled choke. “I need all the backup I can get. Gotta run. See you at seven.” She hung up.
I stared at the phone. Julia needed people around her when she met with her mother? That didn’t sound good.
As long as I had phone in hand, I sent Connor a text.
Sorry bout last night. I heard press conf went well.
I waited for a response, but nothing came.
I told myself I wasn’t too disappointed, and went back to work.
* * *
I must have checked my phone about twenty times that afternoon. Eventually a message came. Not a text, but a voicemail.
“Hey, Lucy,” Connor said. “I can’t talk for long. It’s been a crazy day so far, and likely to get even crazier. I’d like to make up for missing last night, but tonight I have a retired fishermen’s dinner group to meet. You don’t want to come, believe me. All that bunch are going to expect me to do is listen to their stories about how great everything was in the old days. I keep telling myself, not much longer and all this will be over.”
His voice, I thought, sounded beyond tired.
“How about an early breakfast tomorrow? The forecast looks clear. I’ll pick you up, and we can go to the beach and watch the sun rise. I’ll bring a picnic.”
I felt myself smiling. What a good idea.
“I’ll be on the hop all day. I’m only able to make this call because Dorothy thinks I needed to use the men’s room, and she can’t follow me in there. The advantage of a female campaign manager. Send me a text, yea or nay.” Long pause. “Oh, and thanks for the tip about Doug and Jay Ruddle. I hadn’t heard that they had any relationship at all. Dorothy’s looking into it.” He paused and then said very quickly, “Do you know that I love you?” The message clicked off.
I sucked in a breath. He’d used the L word. It was the first time it had been spoken between us.
My heart pounded. Whether with fear or exultation, I didn’t know.
* * *
Louise Jane came in as the last patron was leaving and I was about to lock the door. “Oh, good, you’re still here.”
“It’s closing time,” I said. “I have an appointment in town.” I had learned not long after my arrival not to beat about the bush with Louise Jane.
“Won’t be long.” Louise Jane had learned not long after my arrival not to pay attention to anything I said. “I wanted to check on Rebecca. You are taking care of her, aren’t you, Lucy?”
“Of course we are,” I said. “It’s a marvelous piece of work.”
“It’s much more than that.” She studied the model ship. “Why’s the captain on the lower deck?”
“I don’t know.”
She picked up the little figure. “He should be on the quarterdeck. Along with George.”
“George?”
“The cat.” She arranged the figures the way she wanted them. Charles jumped up to have a look. He hissed at George.
“That’s not really his name,” I said.
“It is,” Louise Jane said. “It’s a matter of historical record. Captain Clark mentioned the cat in his letters home. He named the cat after the king. George II at the time.”
“Wasn’t that a bit lèse-majesté?”
“There’s a reason Captain Clark and his ship and crew—and cat—have never found rest. Insulting the king was the least of their transgressions.” She changed the subject so abruptly, I almost fell off the train of conversation. “I hear you’re investigating the death of Jay Ruddle.”
“I am not. And where did you hear that?”
“Martha Kowalski and Ellen O’Malley have been asking questions about Jay’s past of people who remember him. My grandmother, prominent among them. I assume you put them up to it.”
“Is Martha Kowalski Teddy’s mom?”
“Yes.”
“I might have suggested it was something to look into. I hear Jay made enemies back in the day.”
Louise Jane sniffed. “That’s an understatement. To hear my grandmother talk, he was the devil incarnate.”
“Was she here on Saturday for your lecture?”
“No, and that’s just as well. Or she’d be on the suspect list.”
“What did he do to her?”
“Nothing. But Grandmama is awful loyal to the Outer Banks, no one more so. Jay Ruddle destroyed the livelihoods of many local families and then, worst sin of all, he upped and moved to New York City. I wonder…” Her voice trailed off.
Despite myself I had to ask. “Wonder what?”
“If it wasn’t someone who wanted Jay dead, but something.�
��
“You mean…”
“Not only the living are proud Bankers, Lucy. Jay was alone in the lighthouse on the second level when he died. As far as I know, the lighthouse isn’t haunted by anyone who died in the last fifty years, but it is possible.”
“It isn’t haunted by anyone, Louise Jane.”
“So you keep saying, Lucy, dear.” She turned to look at me. Her eyes were dark and her face serious. I sometimes wondered if Louise Jane believed all the stories she told me, or was just having fun teasing me (and trying to chase me away). Being the storyteller gave her a lot of cachet in the community. As proved by the turnout for her Saturday lecture. But right now, standing here in the empty library, I felt a chill run up my spine. Charles had disappeared.
“It is something to consider,” she said slowly. “There might be spirits at work here who’ve been forgotten. Such as the woman who died back in the 1990s.”
“Bertie says that story isn’t true.”
“Which proves my point. She’s been forgotten.” Louise Jane picked up the little captain and studied him. “I wonder what stories you can tell, my friend. What do you see when the lights are out and silence descends? Even if no one lingers in the lighthouse who knew Jay, personally or by reputation, when they were living, some of the old ones might have sensed he was not a friend of the Outer Banks.”
“I am not going to debate what old ones that might be,” I said. “But Jay was a friend of the Outer Banks. He was going to give his historical collection to the library. Along with adequate funds to build and maintain a home for it.”
“That’s it!” She slapped her forehead.
“That’s what?”
“The reason he died. His bequest would have made considerable changes to the library. The old ones wouldn’t stand for that. They don’t like change.”
“Wow! That’s totally believable, Louise Jane. You’d better take that theory to Detective Watson immediately.”
“Your skepticism does you credit, Lucy, but someday it’s going to trip you up. And I’ll be watching.” She returned the skeletal captain to his quarterdeck and left the library.
Chapter Twelve
Jake’s Seafood Bar is rapidly becoming one of the hottest restaurants on the Outer Banks. The down-home North Carolina cooking can’t be beat, and neither can the view. Set far back from the Croatan Highway, the restaurant overlooks the calm waters of Roanoke Sound and the twinkling lights of Roanoke Island beyond.
“Your party’s here, Lucy,” the hostess said to me as I arrived. “Follow me, please.”
We walked through the dining room, past the fishing motif decorations, and kept going. We were heading outside, and I was pleased about that. Not many outdoor evenings remained, and I wanted to take advantage of every one. Jake’s is a casual place, so I hadn’t gone to much trouble to dress up, and wore jeans and a loose, comfortable blouse topped with a colorful scarf. In hopes of sitting outside, I’d pulled on thick socks and sneakers and carried a heavy sweater.
The patio was about half full, as could be expected at this time of year. Candles nestled in hurricane lamps shone on every table, and round white globe lamps hung from posts and the roof of the bar. The sun had set, and the lights from buildings on Roanoke Island and boats in the Sound twinkled in the clear air. The fourth-order lens of the Roanoke Marshes Lighthouse, a modern reproduction, flashed in the distance.
Julia, Theodore, and Greg were seated at a table for six next to the railing. Five places had been set for dinner.
Julia waved when she saw me crossing the deck. Theodore politely rose to his feet, and after a moment’s hesitation Greg followed. Unexpectedly, Theodore greeted me with a fierce hug. He was not usually the hugging type.
All was explained when he mumbled in my ear. “I’ve learned something extremely important for our investigation. We can’t talk here.”
He released me, and I slipped into the chair next to him. “Isn’t it a gorgeous evening?” I said.
Julia had taken the seat at the head of the table, with Theodore and Greg on either side of her. “Lovely,” she said. “I was telling Greg earlier that I might think about buying a vacation property in the Outer Banks.”
Theodore’s face lit with such a glow, it put the Roanoke Marshes Lighthouse to shame. “That would be marvelous!”
“Early days yet,” said Greg, the wet blanket. “Can we first sort out our more immediate problems?”
“I hope I can still plan ahead,” Julia said. Her face was wrapped in shadow, dragging down her cheekbones and adding to the dark circles under her eyes. She wore a pair of brown corduroy slacks with a navy-blue blouse and brown sweater, causing her to disappear further into the shadows.
“Of course you can,” Theodore said. “I’d be delighted to help you tour properties. I know many of the best locations.”
“I’m sure you do,” Greg said.
“Can I get you anything to drink, Lucy?” the waiter asked.
I looked around the table. A martini glass sat in front of Greg: clear liquid, two olives on a cocktail stick. Theodore had a mug of beer; and Julia, wine. “A glass of Sauvignon Blanc, please.”
“We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” I said, “but did you hear from the police today?”
Greg grunted, and Julia dipped her head. “Detective Watson came to the hotel around five. All the same questions about all the things I’ve already told him.”
“He’s fishing,” Greg said. “He’s got nothing, and he’s trying to pin the killing on Julia to cover up for his own incompetence.”
“Please don’t say that,” she said. “That can’t be true.”
“It’s routine for them to keep asking the same questions,” I said. And I know of which I speak. I too have been a suspect in a murder inquiry. It isn’t fun.
“He won’t be doing any more random digging,” Greg said. “I told Watson, Julia has nothing more to say to him until her lawyer arrives. And that will be first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t you worry, Julia,” Theodore said. “Lucy’s investigating possible leads. She has recently learned of something that might prove to be highly significant.” He couldn’t help throwing a smirk across the table at Greg.
“What’s that, Lucy?” Julia asked.
“She can’t talk about it yet,” Theodore said. “It’s still too early to go public.”
Greg threw back his martini, and I didn’t bother to say I’d learned nothing of the kind. Julia turned to Theodore with a grateful smile.
I leaned back to allow the waiter to put my drink in front of me. “Are you still wanting to wait for the rest of your party to arrive?” he asked.
Julia sighed. “Yes, please. Promptness is not one of my mother’s virtues, I’m sorry to say…” Her voice trailed off. “That’s what I remember anyway.”
A kitchen helper placed a heaping platter of hush puppies in the center of the table. “I told Jake you were here, Lucy,” the waiter said, “and he sent these out with his compliments.”
“Mmm,” I said. “My favorite. Thanks.”
Julia eyed the lumps of fried dough suspiciously. “What are they?”
“Hush puppies,” I said. “If you move to the Outer Banks, even as a summer resident, you’ll be eating them all the time. I can’t get enough of them. And Jake’s are just about the best around.” I picked up one of the hot, delicious balls of crispy batter with my fingers and dunked it into the small bowl of spicy dipping sauce provided. I bit half of it off and chewed. Pure Southern bliss.
Julia took one and nibbled tentatively. “They are good.”
“Definitely not recommended for anyone on a diet.” I popped the second half into my mouth.
Greg tasted one. He tried not to look as though he was enjoying it too much.
Theodore dug in with enthusiasm and was soon licking dipping sauce off his fingers.
“When do you start your new job, Greg?” I asked, simply trying to make polite conversati
on.
“New job? Oh, my new job. That’s on hold for the time being. I have to see Julia through this. It wouldn’t be fair for me to leave her in the lurch.”
“That’s thoughtful of your new employer,” Theodore said. “They’re not usually so accommodating.” He turned to me and his right eyelid twitched. Was that supposed to be a wink? His voice had taken on a strange tone.
“I don’t think my employment situation is any of your concern, buddy,” Greg said.
“I’m only expressing polite interest. You must be lucky with this new employer.”
Another attempt at a wink.
“Are you implying something?” Greg asked.
Julia looked from one man to the other as though they were playing tennis.
“Not at all,” Theodore said. “If it’s inconvenient for you to delay the start of your new job, I’m more than happy to step in. I’m self-employed; my time is my own. You wouldn’t want to lose this opportunity, would you? If you gave up the position of Mr. Ruddle’s curator, this new job must be an excellent one.”
“I can decide for myself, thanks anyway, buddy. Right now, Julia’s welfare has to be my primary concern.”
“That’s so nice of you.” The fair Julia turned her smile on Greg and placed her hand on his. Teddy stared at their joined hands as though trying to summon a death ray.
“Detective Watson told Julia not to leave Dare County,” Theodore said. “Did he tell you the same, Greg?”
Greg opened his mouth to reply, and judging by the look on his face, it wouldn’t have been polite, but he was interrupted by the waiter asking if we wanted more drinks. Because I was driving, I asked for an iced tea, but the others ordered another round.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t wait much longer. It’s not good to drink on an empty stomach,” said Theodore, who’d finished off the hush puppies single-handedly.
Julia glanced at her watch. “I told Anna dinner was at six thirty, assuming she’d be half an hour late. It’s almost seven thirty.”
“Is Anna your mother?” I asked. “You call her by her first name?”
