Spirited Away

by Lena Gregory

  “Are you playing in the volleyball tournament this year, Cass?” Stephanie nudged her half-empty plate away. She’d been pushing her salad around for the better part of the meal but hadn’t actually eaten much.

  “Sure, count me in.”

  “Yes.” Bee pumped his fist in the air. “What about you, Luke? Want to join our team?”

  Luke shrugged. “Sure, why not, but I warn you, I haven’t played beach volleyball since high school.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll do great, like riding a bike, you know?”

  On Sunday evening at sunset, to mark the end of the festival, all of the shop owners along the boardwalk closed their shops and challenged the shop owners on Main Street to a tournament. They could include as many of their family and friends as they wanted. Afterward, Island Grill catered a huge barbeque, paid for by the losing team. They ended the festival with an enormous bonfire on the beach, complete with s’mores.

  Bee gestured toward Tank. “What about you? Are you going to actually participate this year instead of just watching?”

  “I guess,” Tank hedged.

  “Look, buddy.” Luke pointed at him with his fork. “If I’m playing, you’re playing too.”

  Tank laughed. “Oh, all right, fine, I’ll play.”

  “Woo-hoo!” Bee yelled a little too loudly, drawing stares from several customers. He lowered his voice. “We are so gonna kick butt this year.”

  Stephanie excused herself and headed toward the restroom. She’d been quiet through most of dinner and hadn’t eaten well.

  “Excuse me, too. I’ll be right back.” As soon as Bee and Luke moved to let Cass out of the booth, she hurried after Stephanie. She didn’t want to mention her unease in front of anyone, didn’t want to put Stephanie on the spot.

  The ladies’ room door opened just as Cass was about to enter. She stepped back to allow the woman to pass her and found herself face-to-face with Tami Mills. After their last run-in, when Tami accused her of being a murderer, Cass simply stepped aside to allow her room to pass.

  Tami started by her, then stopped and turned back. “Listen, Cass, I owe you an apology.”

  Startled, Cass didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m sorry about the things I said the last time I ran into you. I felt bad afterward, and I’ve wanted to come into Mystical Musings and apologize, but quite honestly, I couldn’t work up the courage.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Tami.” Though her words had stung at the time, Cass hadn’t given it much thought since. “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not fine. My behavior was unacceptable. There was a killer on the loose, and I was terrified, but that was no excuse to treat you the way I did. I’m truly sorry.”

  The apology couldn’t have been easy for Tami, and Cass appreciated she’d taken the time to say it. “Thank you.”

  Tami’s breath shot out as if she’d been holding it, then she lowered her gaze and smoothed her sundress. “Anyway, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to come in for a reading one of these days. A few of my friends rave about how accurate you are. Most of them attend all of your group readings.”

  “I’d like that, Tami.” While Cass wanted to believe the apology had been heartfelt, she didn’t need to be psychic to realize Tami was probably tired of being left out of the group once a week. She patted her shorts pocket but only found a dog treat, no business cards. “I don’t have a business card on me, but give me a call and we can set up an individual reading, or you can just come on in for a group reading.”

  “Will you be having a reading this week? After . . . you know . . . what happened?”

  No way was Cass about to stand there and gossip with Tami about anything related to the murder investigation. “Of course, but it’s scheduled for Friday night, so as not to interfere with the festival activities.”

  “Sounds great.” She offered her hand, and Cass took it. “Oh, and I can’t believe I almost forgot. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

  Cass released Tami’s hand and stepped back. “Thanking me for what?”

  Her features twisted into a sneer. “Twenty years without Malcolm King living across the street from me.”

  The name slammed through Cass like a sledgehammer, driving the air from her lungs.

  “Now, if you could just put him away for twenty more, my life would be complete,” she mumbled as she walked away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cass stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. Malcolm King. She hadn’t heard that name in twenty years, but she supposed he would think she’d ruined his life. Could he have been the man who’d accosted her in the deli? Yes, though the years hadn’t been kind to him. That’s probably why she hadn’t recognized him; she’d pegged him for well into his fifties, when in reality he was only a few years older than her.

  She had to think. Unfortunately, she had to take his threat more seriously now that she knew who he was. Exhaustion burned her eyes. A little cold water should remedy that and, hopefully, clear her head enough for her to figure out what to do.

  Cass pulled open the ladies’ room door and almost ran into Stephanie. “Whoa, sorry. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, no problem.” Stephanie moved aside but continued typing into her phone.

  “Is something wrong?” Try as she might, she couldn’t read who Stephanie was texting.

  “No.” She finished her text and dropped the phone into her shorts pocket. “I was just making an appointment with Calvin Morris. My new client?”

  “Oh, right. Another meeting?”

  “Yeah, well, he doesn’t like to discuss business on the phone, so . . .”

  “Isn’t he the one you were telling Bee earlier doesn’t believe in digital documents?”

  She rolled her eyes. “One and the same.”

  “Weird.”

  “No kidding.” She frowned. “And that’s not the only thing that’s weird.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bernard Schaffer, Mr. Morris’s former bookkeeper, worked on his own and apparently left a list of acceptable replacements if something should ever happen to him. My name was on the list, and Mr. Morris and several other clients got in touch after Bernie passed away. But some of Morris’s ledgers seem off to me, and I wanted to discuss them. Probably just me having to get used to Bernie’s methods, but we’ll see. In the meantime, I’ve scheduled a meeting for Friday morning on the mainland.”

  “You have to go to the mainland to speak with him?”

  “Most likely, but I have to confirm the night before. He might possibly have business on Bay Island this week, in which case he’d meet with me here.”

  “Hopefully he’ll come here. I wouldn’t even want to think about having to squeeze onto that packed ferry the Friday night before the Mid-Summer Festival.” Cass started toward the sink to splash some cold water on her face and freshen up, then turned back. The thought of having to face all of her customers without Stephanie at her side, after how badly she’d screwed up last time, terrified her, especially now that she knew Malcolm King was back in town. “You’ll be back in time for my reading Friday night?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Stephanie studied Cass. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  “I’m all right, but I ran into Tami Mills outside the door.”

  “That witch, what’d she have to say this time?” Stephanie’s resentment and indignation was more for Cass than herself.

  “Actually, she apologized for the things she said to me last time we met.”

  Stephanie snorted, sounding surprisingly like Bee.

  “And she thanked me for giving her twenty years without Malcolm King living across the street and wished I’d give her twenty more.”

  Stephanie froze. “Malcolm’s out of prison?”

  “Apparently.”

  It didn’t take long for Stephanie to connect the dots, and her mouth dropped open. “The man in the deli?”

  Cass nodded. “I think
so, but he looks so much older I can’t be positive.”

  Stephanie grabbed both her arms. “You know you have to tell Luke and Tank, right?”

  “Yeah, just give me a minute to freshen up.”

  “Now, Cass.” Stephanie still held tight. “Right now. I’m not kidding.”

  She pried herself from Stephanie’s hold as gently as possible. “I will, Stephanie, I promise. The minute we sit down. But I’ve been up since yesterday morning, and I can barely function at this point. Just let me get some cold water on my face and wash my hands.”

  Stephanie nodded but watched her like a hawk, standing just behind her while she freshened up, as if afraid Cass would bolt the instant she was left unattended.

  The cold water helped, but not much. Only a good night’s sleep would cure her sleep deprivation. After she spoke to Luke and Tank.

  Stephanie stayed close on her heels all the way back to the table.

  Bee slid out of the booth then stopped and stared at her. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a gh— uh— You didn’t, did you?”

  “No, Bee. At least, not unless you count a ghost from the past.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. Just let me sit down and I’ll explain.”

  He moved aside enough for Luke to stand.

  Cass slid into the corner of the booth, comforted to have the wall against one side, and Luke, Tank, and Bee on her other side. Malcolm would have to get through those three if he wanted to reach her, and even if he was still in his prime, there’s no way that was happening. And Malcolm King, if he was the man who’d accosted her in the deli, was well past prime.

  “Okay, you’re sitting,” Bee said the instant his butt hit the seat. “Now, spill it, girlfriend.”

  “Cass thinks she knows who the man in the deli was,” Stephanie blurted.

  So much for giving her a minute to get herself together.

  Tank studied Stephanie for a moment, then switched his gaze to Cass. “Who is it?”

  “I’m not positive, but I think it might be a man named Malcolm King.”

  Bee leaned around Luke to see her. “Who’s Malcolm King? And why have I never heard of him?”

  “He’s been out of town for the past twenty years.”

  “So, he was someone you knew when you were kids?”

  “Not exactly, but sort of.”

  Bee’s rapid-fire questions made it hard to think. Though it certainly wasn’t her fault Malcolm had gone to prison, she’d had a hand in the length of his sentence. Of course, if he hadn’t been robbing the mansions along the beach, there would have been nothing for her to testify about. If the same scenario happened at this point in her life, she had to wonder if she’d handle it the same way. It took all of thirty seconds for her to know she would. She’d been right at the time. She’d done the right thing. Despite the fact it might well be coming back to haunt her now. She’d always understood that risk.

  “Cass!” Bee huffed out a breath and shook his head. “Wake up. What is wrong with you?”

  Luke held up a hand. “Let her have a minute, Bee. I know you’re worried about her, but she’s obviously got something on her mind. Just give her a couple of minutes to get her thoughts together.”

  As much as she appreciated Luke running interference, she didn’t miss the reminder that Bee was only getting aggravated because he was worried about her, and she loved Luke even more for it. Wait! What? Where had that come from? Though she liked Luke—a lot—she didn’t love him. At least she didn’t think she did. Did she?

  Yikes, she really did need some sleep.

  “When I was in high school, I used to spend all of my free time down at the beach. Not only during the summer, but all year long, really.” With each change of season, the beach was a whole new place. From the summer months, which brought mobs of tourists, nonstop music blasting at all hours, the aromas of barbeque all day long, and gently lapping waves that caressed the shoreline, to the dead of winter, when she could walk along the shore for hours without seeing another soul, and storms often sent rough seas crashing against the shore and the strongest scents were those of salt and brine. “One day, I was walking down the beach and it got stormy, really stormy, with lightning and everything. The last place I wanted to be during a thunderstorm was walking along the beach by myself.”

  It had been a windy autumn day, and the sand had whipped into her face while she walked. She hadn’t realized it was going to storm when she’d left school and decided to walk along the beach after Jimmy Watkins had broken up with her. Funny, it had seemed so tragic at the time but was nothing more than a barely remembered bump in the road at this point in her life. She might not have remembered at all if not for what had happened after.

  “The wind was blowing the sand into my face, burning my eyes, so I decided to hurry home along the boardwalk rather than the beach. I cut between buildings, and just as I started out of the dunes between the shops, Malcolm King ran out from an alley across the boardwalk.” At first, she hadn’t been sure who it was. He’d worn a black sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head and tight around his face. No surprise really, considering the cool temperatures and the driving rain. He kept glancing back over his shoulder, as if afraid he was being followed.

  Cass had stood where she was, keeping close to the side of a shop—a candy and ice cream parlor that had been gone by the time she’d returned to Bay Island—using it to shelter herself against the worst of the storm.

  “I saw Malcolm, clear as day, pull a gun out of his sweatshirt pocket, look over his shoulder, then drop it into a trash can.”

  Bee gasped and put a hand over his mouth. “Oh, my.”

  “As soon as the weapon hit the trash can, Malcolm looked around one last time, ripped the hood off his head, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and walked away as if nothing unusual had happened.” Who knew? Maybe for him dropping a gun in the garbage was the norm.

  “Did you notify the authorities?” Luke slid his arm off the seat back and wrapped her in his protective embrace, pulling her close.

  “Yeah. My father was friends with a detective at the time. I told my dad, and he called his friend. He came over and questioned me.”

  Tank surveyed the restaurant, then pulled Stephanie closer. “What ended up happening?”

  “Malcolm went to prison.”

  Bee snorted. “I fail to see how he could even possibly think you ruined his life. Isn’t that what you said he told you this morning?”

  “Yes, and he’s right.”

  “How do you figure? If he hadn’t had a gun, he wouldn’t have gone to prison.”

  “Exactly.” And he’d almost gotten away with it. Back in the day, the idea of cameras on every corner was reserved for fiction. “Malcolm robbed one of the mansions along the beach. It was off season, and he’d expected the house to be empty. Apparently, he’d done the same before. Often. Only this time, there was someone home. The owner’s teenage son had come out to Bay Island to spend the weekend with a friend. He and the girl were home when Malcolm went in. They’d said he had a gun, but no one could find it.”

  “Except you.”

  She looked into Luke’s eyes, swirls of darker blue swimming in their depths. “Without the gun, he’d have probably done a few years. It was his first offense. Or at least the first time he’d been caught.”

  “The weapon was a game changer.”

  “Yeah, he either hadn’t been smart enough or he was too scared to think straight. Either way, he forgot to wipe the prints before he dumped it. He ended up doing twenty years.”

  “And now he’s back,” Stephanie said.

  “And looking to even the score,” Bee added.

  Luke frowned. “How long has he been back? Do you know?”

  “No. Today was the first time I saw him, but I didn’t even recognize him. He was only a few years ahead of me in school, but he looks much older. I honestly wouldn’t have known who he was if he’d just kept walking. I
could have passed him a hundred times and I wouldn’t have recognized him.”

  Tank pulled a pad and pen from his pocket and scribbled something down. “I’ll look into it. In the meantime, you be careful, you understand?”

  “I will.”

  He paused for a minute, pen poised above the paper, and stared at her. “I’m not kidding, Cass. If this guy has a vendetta against you, there’s no telling what he might do.”

  She nodded her agreement. She knew all too well what could happen when someone had twenty years to nurture a grudge. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  “Um . . . Tank?” Even though Bee and Tank had developed a tentative friendship, Bee still seemed a bit uncomfortable in his presence at times, especially when he was feeling unsure of himself. “You don’t think Malcolm King could have had anything to do with Dirk’s murder, do you? I mean, what better way to get back at Cass than to ruin her reputation?”

  Tank didn’t immediately discount Bee’s suggestion, which surprised Cass. “Why would he do something like that? And then pin it on Emmett?”

  “I don’t know.” Bee shrugged. “Unless Malcolm had a grudge against Emmett, too.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cass carried her shoes as she walked down the beach beside Bee, listening to his argument in favor of Malcolm King as Dirk’s killer for the umpteen millionth time. Her feet sank into the damp sand, already warm even so early in the morning. Every few minutes, a gentle wave managed to reach her feet, the cool water sucking the sand from beneath her. “I don’t know, Bee . . .”

  She’d spent all night tossing and turning. Despite her exhaustion when she’d finally fallen into bed, she hadn’t been able to fall asleep. And the few times she had, dreams had plagued her, the fractured remnants of which she’d been unable to piece together upon waking, though Malcolm had made an appearance during at least one. “It seems far-fetched to think Malcolm would return after all these years and kill someone basically unrelated to me. Someone who’d just ridiculed and embarrassed me publicly. Seems he’d have been more likely to pat him on the back and buy him a beer. Don’t you think?”