The Manatee Did It

by Kay Dew Shostak

  Lucy rolls her eyes. “Sorry for all those interruptions while we were trying to talk in there. Everyone seems to think I know what’s going on in town.”

  Annie leans against the old brick wall. “Because you do. And you love it, so tell us what you know before the inquiring minds find you.”

  “Okay. Pierson Mantelle and one of the councilmembers, Ray Barnette, have been in talks for a while about the city selling the marina to a private company. Pierson represented the private company, but it wasn’t exactly his company like I thought. He was brought in because of his ties to Sophia.”

  Annie scrunches up her face. “Ties to Sophia? He’s not lived here in twenty years. Maybe more.” Her eyes slide to me. “But look at C. J. He’s not lived here in close to forty years—even then it was only for summers—and now he’s owner of one of the oldest mansions on the island. So who knows?”

  I speak up. “And didn’t you say Pierson’s mother is from here, too? Is his dad still alive?”

  Both women nod at me. “He’s quite a bit older than Leigh Anne. He had a stroke a few years ago. Last I heard was in a nursing home in Jacksonville, but he is still alive,” Lucy says. “Edison Mantelle was already in his forties when he met Leigh Anne, and she was only right out of high school.”

  Annie huffs. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

  Lucy agrees. “I called my aunt who remembers all the gossip. Leigh Anne came home after her first semester at Florida State and caught Edison Mantelle’s eye. He was married, but well, you know how that goes. Aunt Jean said he’d already made a bunch of money and spent a lot of time all over the state. He set up Leigh Anne in Ponte Vedra where she was his mistress until she got pregnant that next summer. Then he got a quick divorce and married her. Really set off his wife and their kids. He left them here, high and dry as possible.”

  “Oh my word! I hadn’t put all that together,” Annie says. “Sue Martin took back her maiden name and moved to the north end of the island. I’d completely forgot she was married to Pierson’s daddy. She remarried, didn’t she? And that makes—what were her kids’ names? They were just a few years younger than me.”

  “Cora and Howard. Remember? They named them after the original owners of the house,” Lucy says as she arches an eyebrow at me.

  “My house?”

  “Yes,” she says. “Surely you’ve read the historical marker out in front of it. Those two might harbor some ill feelings about their younger sibling, who was given everything their father took with him to Ponte Vedra. We should look into them.” She checks her watch. “I have to go, but let’s walk toward the courthouse. Anyway, Pierson and Barnette did meet yesterday on his boat. That could help clear your husband, Jewel. Since Barnette could’ve been wearing a dress shirt, he might have been the man that Adam saw.”

  We walk down the sidewalk in a huddle, with both Annie and me bent over Lucy to hear her. After crossing the street a couple of blocks west, we stop at the fountain in front of the courthouse. Lucy turns and looks up at us. “I made you an appointment with Ray Barnette. I used your name, Jewel. I figured the Mantelle name would open doors, and it did. He’s waiting for you up on the second floor.”

  I look up at the old windows in the elaborate building. “So the council members have offices in the courthouse?”

  Lucy pats me on the back. “Not exactly. Ray, um, works here sometimes.”

  Shielding my eyes from the sun, I look more closely at Lucy to see her grinning. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. Go find out what you can from Ray. I’ll walk you in, I need to have a word with one of the judges on the first floor—not anything to do with our case. Then I have a board meeting at the chamber to rush to.” She steps forward as Annie sits down on the brick edge of the fountain.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Annie. “We’re going inside.”

  “No, I really can’t.” She pulls her phone out of her pants pocket and starts playing with it, ignoring Lucy and me.

  “Why not? I don’t know what to ask. I thought you wanted to be a detective.”

  “Oh, I do.” She looks at me and nods. “But I can’t go talk to Ray with you. You’ll be fine.” She looks back down at her phone. “I’ll do some research on Pierson’s stepsiblings.”

  Lucy tucks her arm around one of mine and pulls me to the front doors. “Honestly, Jewel, it’ll be better like this. You see, sweetie, Ray and Annie kind of date sometimes.”

  She pulls open the ornate doors, and we enter a quiet, dark hall.

  “And,” she says with a sigh, “apparently this isn’t a sometime.”

  At the top of the wide, winding staircase I walk onto an old tiled floor. Closed doors with writing on their opaque windows line both sides of the hall. Lucy and Annie didn’t tell me where to find this guy, which office to go into. I don’t even know which direction to go in as the staircase comes out in the middle of the hall. When one of the doors to my left opens, that makes my decision. I tiptoe in that direction hoping to find someone to talk to. First out the door is a large, gray trashcan on a wheeled cart, with mop handles sticking out the sides, and then the man who’s propelling the cart comes through the door.

  “Excuse me,” I say, and the man’s head lifts. I saw his muscular arms first, so I’m surprised to see he’s an older gentleman.

  “Hello, young lady. May I help you?” he asks in a low, mellow tone. His voice is the Old South incarnate, and I feel a swoon coming on.

  “I hope so. I’m looking for Councilman Ray Barnette, and I forgot to find out which office is his.”

  “Would you by any chance have been sent on this errand by one lovely Lucy Fellows?” He steps from behind the cart and extends his hand. “And would that make you the most interesting newcomer carrying the distinguished name of Mantelle? Jewel Mantelle, I believe?”

  I smile to keep from saying, in my best Scarlett O’Hara impression, “Charmed, I’m sure.” I clear my throat but smile bigger as I lay my hand in his outstretched hand. “Yes. Yes, to everything.”

  He actually kisses my hand, then lays his other hand on top of it and winks at me. “Oh, darlin’, don’t go saying yes to everything a Southern man says. He might just forget his manners. Ray Barnette at your service.”

  I actually giggled as I pulled my hand back. But I did not flutter my eyelashes—at least I don’t think I did.

  He has a full head of white hair and is about my height, if not a few inches taller. He’s wearing a maroon golf shirt and dark gray work pants. The logo on his shirt says “Plantation Services,” and then I see the same logo on the side of the big trashcan. “Oh, Lucy said you worked here, and I, well, I assumed…”

  “You assumed you’d find me behind one of these old doors of authority and many gilded words. I completely understand, but alas, no. This is my humble but necessary work. Now, how may I help you? Lucy said your husband is mixed up in the murder of Mr. Pierson Mantelle?”

  He motions us over to a bench along the wall, and as I sit down, I shake my head. “Kind of. He, well, was on the docks yesterday, and the police did question him.” I stall with my mouth ready to say something, but I can’t think of what I need to know. Why did they send me of all people on this mission?

  As he joins me on the bench, Mr. Barnette lets out a long low groan. “Yes, I, too, was questioned by our thorough Officer Greyson and the young Officer Bryant. Who would’ve imagined all this going so wrong? I’m only trying to help my beloved community, which does not have the resources to develop our marina as it could, and should, be developed. Pierson Mantelle agreed with me and I believe also had a true vision for the future of our beloved waterfront. Truly a magnificent vision, but will it ever happen now?” He shakes his head, lifts his hands in concern, and then lays one big hand on my shoulder. Maybe it’s just a comforting pat, but I sit up straight anyway. When I look at him, he winks again and my cheeks flush.

  As I shift away from his hand, I blurt, “So if his death stopped the idea of
selling the marina, maybe that explains what happened. Who was most opposed to the idea?”

  He shrugs and then waves his hands to indicate the offices around us. “Open any one of these doors and find at least one person who would lose some modicum of power and control if a private enterprise were to be engaged. Sophia may appear to be a small Southern island blessed with water, sand, and sun, but we are a town. A growing, thriving town, and there is lots of money to be made and power to be gained. I am only on the city council to provide a voice for common sense and reason.” He stands up and pulls one of the mops from the bucket on the cart. “Yes, Mrs. Mantelle, I did meet with your husband’s cousin, the newly departed Mr. Pierson Mantelle, yesterday on his boat. Did I kill him? No. He and I were allies in this struggle. Might I suggest you investigate the other council members to find the perpetrator of this vile crime? I had nothing whatsoever to gain in Pierson’s death.” One hand on the handle of the mop, he folds the other to his waist in a bow. “For now, dear lady, I must return to my duties before I lose this most needed job.”

  He unfolds from his bow and sweeps off down the dark hall.

  I thank him and watch him enter another door. A janitor on the city council? That seems a little different, but why not? Why not, indeed. There’s a large window at the end of the hall that lets in beams of morning light, and I think of all the drama this hallway has probably seen over the decades. It’s so quiet and peaceful here, so I decide there’s no hurry to report back to Annie. If she wanted to know what Mr. Barnette had to say, she should’ve come with me. She’s the one that wants to play detective.

  I settle back against the wooden slats of the old bench. It’s surreal to find myself here. Not only on Sophia Island, but in this second-floor hallway of Sophia’s historic courthouse. Especially given the circumstances that led me here. The murder of one of Craig’s long-lost relatives? Bizarre. I let out a long breath, and my chest feels concave, empty. Finally I can think about what I’ve been trying not to think about. Why is my husband still lying to me?

  Maybe even worse—why is he lying to the police? Can I put aside my guilt long enough to figure out his?

  Chapter 14

  “I’m over here,” Annie calls as I step over to the courthouse fountain, looking for her. “Over here in the shade.”

  She’s sitting on a stone wall under some tall trees with smooth bark. They drape over her, and I have to stoop to join her on the seat. “What are these trees? The smooth trunks with the different coloring are really pretty.”

  She looks around her. “Oh, these are some really old crepe myrtles. See the ends of the branches there? Those are going to explode in flowers this summer. You don’t have them up north?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe I remember them from Tennessee, but the kids were little when we lived there so my recall about that time in my life isn’t that great. Okay, so I met with your Mr. Barnette and—”

  “Don’t you be calling him my Mr. Barnette! What did Lucy tell you? She is such a blabbermouth. He didn’t mention me, did he?”

  Her eyebrows jump, lower, flatten, then jump again, and I can’t help but laugh. “Oh, so you do like him? I thought he was very nice, very gentlemanly and gracious. Very Southern.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “He’s a big old flirt, and I’m too old for that nonsense. Besides, he might be a murderer!”

  “But he explained that he and Pierson were on the same side,” I say. “He thought we should look at the other councilmembers.”

  Annie lifts her purse onto her lap and rummages through it, pulling out her phone and the paper Eden gave her earlier. “That’s what I thought also, so while you were inside playing footsies with that old degenerate, I was doing some real investigating.” She looks up. “And don’t roll your eyes at me, I’ve raised six teenagers. Eye rolling doesn’t even faze me. Here’s the list of the other councilmembers. Two are newcomers to town that I don’t know, and I’ve not figured out a way to get information on them yet. There’s Ray, and then there’s the other two. One is Geo Clayton, who I know is out of town with his wife. Their grandchildren are on spring break up in North Carolina, so they took their RV up there for a couple weeks. The other is Sheryl-Lee King, and believe it or not, she was having lunch at Colby’s yesterday, too. She’s one of the people that came over to see Lucy as we were leaving.”

  Annie rubs her lips together as she looks around; then she leans toward me and whispers, “She was wearing a lime green suit, and the skirt was wet. You remember as we were walking out the door that Lucy stopped to talk to a woman?”

  I match her whisper. “I do! She was coming out of the bathroom, and she said something about her skirt. It was really a bright green.”

  “Exactly! I remembered that as I was sitting here. Sheryl-Lee is plenty strong enough to hurl that pitcher at Pierson Mantelle. She’s in her thirties and loves working out. Wonder if that stain on her skirt was margarita?”

  “Oh, yes, it could be. Did you tell Aiden?”

  She sits back and frowns at me. “Aiden? Let him get his own leads.”

  “Annie, no! This is not a mystery novel. Let the police do their job.”

  Her frown lightens, and she tilts her head. “And when are you going to tell the police that your husband is lying to them?”

  I stand up, staying low to avoid the draping limbs. I stride past the fountain and onto the sidewalk before I stop and look back for Annie. Maybe I’m telling these ladies too much. Shouldn’t I have Craig’s back? But could there be more he’s not telling me?

  Annie’s gathered everything and is carrying her purse, phone, and the paper from Eden jumbled in her arms. When she reaches me she holds out the paper. “Says right here your husband came to Colby’s looking for you, but Lucy said you didn’t know where we were having lunch until that morning. And you told us you hadn’t talked to your husband in the past two days. That when he’s on a jobsite he’s hard to get hold of.”

  “I know. You’re right. He is lying to the police, but here’s the thing, Annie. He’s also still lying to me. He told me just this morning he was there looking to have lunch with me. Does he not realize I know that he’s lying? Does he think I’ll lie to the police for him?” Tears fill my eyes, and a lump builds in my throat. “In his engineer mind, if you aren’t thinking the way he’s thinking, that’s your problem. Or should I say my problem!” My throat shuts down with that lump, and the tears squeeze out as I clinch my eyes shut.

  We stand on the sidewalk in silence for a moment, and then Annie reaches out to hug me. She’s a good hugger, soft and intentional. Her hugs feel like she means them. As we separate my stomach growls. Loudly.

  We laugh and she says, “I agree.” With a wink directed at my stomach she says, “Speaking of lunch, do you want to meet another of my kids? Let’s go this way.”

  “Alli-belle, you back here?” Annie says as we enter the nondescript concrete-block building from a back door. She whispers over her shoulder to me, “Alexandria is my free spirit. She’s an artist this week.”

  “Momma? I’m in the front gallery.”

  We walk from the darkness toward the light coming in through high windows in the front. Little rooms along the hallway have walls covered in paintings. I remember coming into this gallery by way of the front entrance a week or so ago. There was a painting of a stork or a heron, one of those birds that stand in the water around here, which I really liked. I spot it in its same place on the side wall as a young woman walks over to us.

  “I was just turning over the ‘Closed for Lunch’ sign,” she says in a grouchy voice, but her mother responds, all sunshine and sweetness.

  “Perfect! I came to see if you wanted to go to lunch. This is my good friend Jewel, and I wanted her to meet you.”

  “Momma, cut out the charm. I know you think I can’t afford to eat so you just happen to drop in at lunch or dinner to take me out. And since I don’t have any food at home, yes, I’ll go to lunch. We can go out the back door. I feel
like Mexican.”

  We follow her back the way we came. She holds open the door for us, and as I pass by her she says, “Your name is Judy? Julie?”

  “Jewel. With a W.” I try to hold out my hand to her, but she pushes out and turns her back to us as she locks the door. She leads us off to the side, through some bushes on a little worn path. We come up on a gravel path that leads to the main street and a Mexican restaurant I hadn’t been to yet.

  She strides in the front doors, and we follow her through the restaurant toward the back. She slows down at the bar long enough to say a few words to the bartender, who obviously knows her; he nods and waves to me. Then he grabs Annie’s arm and lifts her hand to kiss it. Annie introduces me, then laughs and points ahead of her, in the direction of her daughter who has left us behind. She and the bartender roll their eyes at each other. I think they share opinions on the latest Bryant child I’ve met.

  I believe I could already share in that eye roll.

  Alexandria has a table selected and is taking her seat in the huge outdoor patio behind the long, narrow restaurant. A big tree covers most of the area in shade, and I’m stunned that I never suspected this was back here. Before Annie and I are seated a waiter appears with our menus and glasses of water.

  “Miss Annie and Miss Allie, good to see you both again.”

  Annie smiles up at the attractive young man and introduces me again.

  He nods his head at me. “Miss Jewel. The Bryant ladies usually order our lunch combo of an enchilada, a taco, and shrimp salad. It is very reasonable and very good.” He looks around the table. “Are we ready to order? No hurry.”

  Annie looks to her daughter. “Order whatever you’d like, Allie. Eduardo, I’m going to go with the lunch special.”

  The young woman picks up her menu and hands it to our waiter. “Eddie, give me two of the lunch specials. One to go. Guess that’ll have to be dinner tonight.”