Relic

by Bill Noel

  Gant rubbed his hand through his short, gray hair and stared at me. “Twenty-five years ago, it would’ve been my job to figure that out. I’m glad it isn’t. Know why?”

  I shook my head.

  “He deserved what he got.”

  Gant pivoted and walked away, nearly running over Stanley Kremitz as he stormed out the door. I couldn’t help but wonder if Gant knew that Anthony Fitzsimmons was going to be at the Lighthouse Inlet Heritage Preserve that fateful evening.

  Stanley was my height, thin, in his late sixties, although he looked older. He moved to my side then looked at the door. “What’d you do to put a bee in his bonnet?”

  Stanley was a friend of Chester Carr, a man I’d met five years ago. I’d become better acquainted with Chester two years ago when Charles and I joined a walking group he’d formed.

  “We were talking about the man killed at the old Coast Guard property. Apparently, Gant didn’t take too kindly to him.”

  “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

  If Stanley wasn’t Chester’s friend, I’d avoid him or, as he would say, “I’d avoid him like the plague.” He was a nice man, friendly, but had never met a cliché he didn’t like, or worse, repeat.

  “What do you know about him?”

  “You know I always look on the bright side. That’s hard to do when it comes to Gant, who insists on being called Captain. He’s got a quick temper. It doesn’t take much to set him off.”

  “Think he’d get mad enough to shoot someone?”

  “He was a state cop. He’d know how to pull the trigger. You can take that to the bank.”

  The store was getting crowded, and I ushered the retired pipefitter out of the aisle, and said, “Did you know Anthony and Laurie Fitzsimmons?”

  “A little. Met them in here, right back there by the bin of fruits.” He laughed. “Laurie was picking up an apple. I stepped up and said an apple a day keeps the doctor away. She must’ve thought I was weird. Stared at me like I was a three-headed hippo.” He rolled his eyes. “Go figure.”

  I didn’t see anything wrong with Laurie’s reaction. “Was that it?”

  “No. Anthony found humor in what I’d said. He told me who they were. I said it was nice meeting them. Laurie finally seemed to catch on that I was teasing. They’re both retired teachers, live here full-time now.”

  “Did you know about them relic hunting?”

  “Anthony had a pack of batteries in his hand, so I made a joke about using them to run the apple she had in her hand. You know, like the Apple i-stuff, the iPhone. They didn’t laugh. Can you believe that?”

  Absolutely, I thought. “Looking for relics?”

  “Yeah,” Stanley said. “Anthony finally said they needed batteries for flashlights. It was as bright as Charmin outside. I joked about them not needing flashlights. Anthony, or maybe it was Laurie, said they like to fish around in wooded areas. They sometimes need the extra light to see. That begged the question, fishing around for what, so I asked. Anthony glanced at his wife then said something about them having an interest in the Civil War. They’ve heard that old military stuff, buttons, other metal things can be found around here. I asked if they’d found anything.”

  “Had they?”

  “Anthony looked around, like he was about to tell me where the fountain of youth was and didn’t want anyone else to hear. Then, he looked at Laurie. I didn’t see her reaction. Anthony sure did. He changed direction in mid-stream and said, ‘Nope,’ they hadn’t found anything.”

  “Was that it?”

  “I suppose.”

  He didn’t sound convincing, so I said, “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Terrible about what happened to him that morning. I hear Laurie was the only other person out there, and she didn’t see what happened. Someone said she didn’t know anything happened to Anthony until the morning. Chester tells me you’re good friends with the chief of police. Is that how she tells it?”

  I thought it was a strange question, one that I wasn’t comfortable answering, well, answering truthfully. “Don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I met Charles the next morning for a late breakfast at the Dog. After sparring with Amber about my choice of French toast, over her ongoing crusade to get me to eat healthier, Charles asked for the latest on Anthony’s death. I told him I didn’t know anything new, then shared my conversations with Gant and Stanley Kremitz.

  Charles rubbed his three-day-old beard. “Gant goes apoplectic when anyone mentions ghosts, or diggin’ up bones. The old boy’s got a bag of screws loose when it comes to the past. I still think it’s possible he shot Anthony.”

  “He became agitated talking about Anthony and relic hunting. I asked if he’d known Laurie’s grandfather. He said, “Yes’ then shared that Harnell was considered a nut. I couldn’t tell if that was Gant’s opinion because Harnell was digging for buried treasure, of if others felt that way.”

  “Chris, it bothers me that Gant knew about Anthony’s death so soon after the body was discovered. Plus, being a retired state police officer would’ve given him the skill to kill.”

  “I don’t know how he heard about it, but you don’t need to be a retired cop to be able to shoot someone. Don’t forget, people who weren’t in law enforcement have shot at us.”

  Charles held out his arms, wiggled his left leg. “Shot at by amateurs. We’re alive. Anthony ain’t.”

  Amber returned with breakfast, and to add sanity to our conversation. She asked if we’d heard about the heavy rains that were supposed to hit this afternoon, or the sale at two T-shirt stores.

  I answered, “Yes” to the rain. I didn’t care about the sale.

  Charles added that he would’ve been interested in the sale if they sold college T-shirts. They didn’t, so he wasn’t.

  Amber left to wait on a family of five who’d taken a table in the center of the room, when Chief LaMond entered and headed our way.

  She motioned for Charles to slide over, sat beside him, then said, “Have you heard?”

  “Heard what?” I asked.

  Cindy opened her mouth wide, raised her hand, and made a motion with her forefinger, like she was making a mark on a whiteboard. She said, “Is this a historic day, or what?”

  I said, “What’re you talking about?”

  “I never thought I’d live to see the day when something bad happens on my island, when you didn’t know about it before I did. Damned historic day.”

  Charles jerked his head toward Cindy, almost knocking over his bell jar of water with his hand. “What happened?”

  “Be patient,” she said. “I’m savoring the moment.” She took a notebook out of her pocket. “At nine-hundred this morning, Mrs. Anthony Fitzsimmons called 9-1-1 to report that an unknown person attempted to make her the late Mrs. Fitzsimmons. She—”

  “Whoa!” Charles interrupted. “Details?”

  “Thought that’d get your attention. Laurie called to report someone fired a shot through her window. We responded posthaste, for you amateurs, that’s police talk for super swift. Our mayor looks askance at citizens being shot at. Go figure. Officer Bishop was first on scene. She reported that Laurie wasn’t hit, whoever pulled the trigger was long gone. I was nearby, got there next.”

  Charles did what he does best. He interrupted, again. “Did she see who it was?”

  “Shut up and listen. You’ll find out,” Cindy said, doing what she does best. “She didn’t see anyone. That would’ve been too easy. She said she was in the bedroom when the first thing she knew was the window beside her shattered. She jumped back, tripped on the side of the bed. By the time she got to her window, the perp was gone, plus there was a bullet hole in the wall on the opposite side of the room.”

  “Where was Gail Clark?” I asked.

  Cindy flipped a page in her notebook. “Gail Clark, oh, yeah, her Florida friend. Laurie sent Gail to Harris Teeter to get food for lunch.” Cindy smiled. “She, L
aurie, that is, said she needed alone time. Something about being tired of Gail finishing her sentences. Said she was finishing sentences that Laurie was only thinking about. Seems nerves are frayed between the friends.”

  “Any witnesses?” I asked.

  “No. The bedroom faces a vacant lot with lots of trees, shrubbery, weeds as tall as me. Whoever was in there could’ve been doing a naked rain dance, and no one would’ve noticed.”

  I took a sip of coffee and said, “Don’t suppose Laurie had any thoughts on who it was?”

  Cindy shook her head. “She’s pretty torn up. Hell, I would be, too, if someone took a shot at me when all I was doing was standing in my bedroom. Think of how much worse it is for her, considering it came a few days after her husband was murdered, came the day before his funeral.”

  Charles said, “Don’t suppose the shooter left the gun and his driver’s license?”

  Cindy cocked her head. “Gee, Charles. We forgot to check. No wonder you think you’re a detective.”

  I said, “What happens now?”

  “Detective Callahan’s been to the house. He’s having crime techs search for anything that might’ve been left in the vacant lot. I doubt they’ll have any luck.” She pointed to Charles. “Unless he, or she, left a driver’s license.”

  I looked around to see if anyone was near enough to hear, then asked, “Cindy, could she have faked it, took the shot herself?”

  Charles stared at me. Cindy nodded. “That entered my mind. You think she did it to deflect suspicion that she killed her husband?”

  I shrugged. “It still strikes me as strange that, after getting lost from her husband in the middle of the night, she’d find her way back to the car then fall asleep. Add to that, the half-million-dollar insurance policy would be a strong motive.”

  Cindy continued to nod. “It’s an interesting coincidence that she sent her friend to the grocery before the incident.”

  Charles took a sip of his drink then said, “Did you search her house for a gun?”

  “On what grounds? The woman calls us in hysterics to report being shot at. We show up and say ‘That’s terrible. While we’re here, can we search your underwear drawer?’”

  Charles said, “That mean, “No’?”

  “Can’t fool you, Charles.”

  “Trying to help.”

  “Thank you,” Cindy said, slobbering sarcasm.

  “While we’re talking about possible suspects, I was talking to Abraham Gant yesterday. He—”

  Cindy waved her hand in my face. “Captain Gant, to you.”

  “Captain Gant went on a rant about relic hunters, specifically about Anthony Fitzsimmons.”

  “That’s nothing new. Rant and Gant not only rhyme, they’re redundant.”

  “True, although I thought it was a bit strong when he said Fitzsimmons got what was coming to him.”

  “Let me see if I have this straight,” Cindy said, “You think Laurie and the captain were standing outside Laurie’s window this morning shooting up her bedroom?”

  I sighed. “No, I’m saying each had a motive for killing Anthony.”

  Charles said, “Add Gail Clark to the list.”

  “Why?” Cindy asked.

  “She leaves Laurie to go to the grocery, then someone shoots through the window.”

  I shook my head. “Motive?”

  “Don’t know.” Charles motioned toward Cindy. “That’s for you to figure out.”

  “Halleluiah,” Cindy said. “Faux detective Charles finally leaving something for us civil servants to do.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve had about all the fun I can have with you two. Got to get back to the office to pretend like I know what I’m doing.” She stood and took a step toward the door, before turning back to us. “I can’t believe I knew something before you did.”

  I asked Charles why he thought Gail was a suspect, other than being out of the house when the shot was fired. His phone rang before he answered. Up until a year ago, he didn’t have a cell phone, or an answering machine. The reason he got the phone was because he and his then girlfriend, Heather Lee, had moved to Nashville for her to pursue a music career. He wanted to be able to give me updates on their move. Her career never got off the ground, so they returned to Folly. Not long after, Heather left Charles. He kept the phone.

  The phone conversation was brief. The half of it I heard consisted of, “Yes,” and “Okay, we’re on our way.”

  “Where?” I asked as he slipped the phone in his pocket.

  “Laurie’s.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The house looked as much a work in progress as it had during our first visit. The only difference being, instead of Laurie greeting us, Gail met us at the door. She motioned us in saying Laurie was in the kitchen.

  Laurie wrapped her arms around Charles, like he was a long-lost relative. She had tears in her eyes as she loosened her grip and stepped back. She gave me a hug that lasted half as long as the one she’d given Charles.

  “You won’t believe what happened,” she said in Charles’s direction.

  Charles didn’t admit he knew. “What?”

  Gail, from the doorway, said, “Laurie, perhaps your friends would like coffee.”

  “Oh, sure. Sorry for being rude. Coffee, brownies? The next-door neighbor brought over more than we could ever eat.”

  I said coffee, not because I wanted it, but hoping it’d calm Laurie if she was doing something. Charles glared at me, like I was keeping her from telling what’d happened. Charles and I took chairs at the kitchen table. Gail grabbed one of the two remaining chairs, like she expected to be waited on by the woman who’d been the alleged target of a bullet hours earlier.

  Laurie delivered a plate of brownies then went for our drinks.

  “Nice kitchen,” Charles said as he looked around.

  This time, he wasn’t simply being kind. Much of the house needed work, but the kitchen was immaculate. New stainless-steel appliances fit the spaces between the granite countertops. White cabinets and a white subway-tile backsplash were the perfect contrast from the mint green walls.

  Laurie rubbed her hand over the granite counters. “Thank you. Anthony thought I was spending too much. After seeing the finished kitchen, he said it was wonderful.” She looked at the tile floor and whispered. “He’ll never get to enjoy it.”

  Gail interrupted Laurie’s melancholy moment. “Laurie, don’t you need to tell your friends why you called?”

  Laurie brought our coffee before taking the remaining seat. She glanced toward the bedroom. “Somebody tried to kill me.” She looked in her cup as she slowly shook her head.

  Gail reached to squeeze her friend’s arm. “Now, dear, tell your friends everything.”

  Laurie twisted her arm out from under Gail’s hold and turned to Charles. “We’d been trying to see what food we needed for the next few days. People brought plenty to eat, but we were out of the basics. I was feeling queasy, so Gail offered to go to Harris Teeter. She left. I want in the bedroom to tidy up. To be honest, I thought about lying back down. Instead, I came in here to get a glass of water when I heard it.” Her gaze returned to the cup.

  “Tell them,” Gail said.

  She was as impatient as Charles.

  Laurie continued, “All I remember is shattering glass. My first thought was, That’s just what I need, a rock breaking the window. Anthony’s funeral tomorrow, now this. I went in the bedroom ready to look out and scream at some kid when I realized there was a hole in the wall opposite the window, glass all over the floor.” She glanced at me and turned to Charles. “Guys, if it’d been seconds earlier, I’d be dead.”

  Chief LaMond already answered the question, but I asked, anyway. “Laurie, did you see anyone?”

  “I was scared, so confused. When I realized it was someone shooting, I ducked, afraid to look outside. By the time I got the nerve to peek, I didn’t see much. There was someone walking out of the lot next door, or I thought there was. I was so scared.�
��

  She’d told Cindy she hadn’t seen anyone.

  “Can you describe the person?”

  “Not really. I think it was a guy. He could’ve had on a ball cap, no, he did have one on.”

  “Height, age, weight, anything else about him?” I asked.

  “No. By the time I saw him, he was past the tree line, so I didn’t get a good look. Even if I got a clear view, it might not have been the person who shot at me. I was so shaken that it may’ve been a minute or two before I looked out the window. I don’t know, honest.”

  “Did you tell the police what you saw?”

  “I don’t remember. I was shaking when they got here, my stomach was doing somersaults.” She wiped a tear from her cheek then smiled for the first time. “I wasn’t my best.”

  “Of course, you weren’t, dear,” Gail said as she returned her hand to Laurie’s arm.

  Charles looked toward the bedroom. “Laurie, do you feel like showing us where it happened?”

  Gail responded for Laurie. “I don’t think she—”

  Laurie stood. “Yes.”

  We followed her to the bedroom. The room was painted a soothing green, a shade darker than the kitchen. A queen-size sleigh bed was against the far wall with its bedspread, covering the sheets, although not neatly. A large double-hung window was on the left side with a piece of cardboard covering the lower half. The wood paneling on the opposite wall had a two-inch diameter hole a couple of feet below the ceiling. It looked like it had been made by a woodpecker, although more likely the work of the crime techs digging out the bullet.

  Laurie saw us looking at the window. “Chief LaMond’s husband owns a hardware store. She called while she was here. He rushed over. He didn’t have a piece of glass that fit, so he taped the cardboard up there until he could fix it. The black officer, Bishop, I believe, swept up the glass. Such nice people.”

  I told her that I’d known Cindy, her husband, and Officer Bishop for years and that they exemplified most of the people on Folly who would do anything to help their neighbors. I added, “Laurie, you said you were in here then went to the kitchen before the shot was fired?”