Relic

by Bill Noel

“You said he smiled when he added his name to the list. It was as if he threw it in as an absurdity, like who could possibly think he was the killer. Also, he has a solid alibi for when someone shot at Laurie.”

  “True. Depending upon what version Laurie gives, she was either in the bedroom or in the kitchen when the shot was fired.”

  “You think she faked it?”

  I shrugged

  “The police know Laurie’s conflicting stories?”

  “Yes.”

  “They’re following up?”

  I was heading into a trap. I nodded.

  She mirrored my nod. “So, you’re stepping aside, leaving it to the police?”

  The sun had started to break through the clouds, as I muttered, “Yes,” and changed the subject. “Looks like it’s going to be an enjoyable day.”

  She gave me a skeptical expression, then agreed about the weather. Before I said I should head home we agreed to meet for supper in a couple of days.

  I turned onto East Ashley Avenue, where I saw a white, Chevy step van parked at the entrance to a large gravel lot that’s the prime parking area for beachgoers and customers to the central business district’s restaurants and stores. The van had been converted into a food truck and had a large red and brown oval logo on the side with a rendering of a hot dog slathered with mustard. Above the hot dog were the words Hot Diggity Dog! Underneath the cartoon-looking hot dog, it read, Gourmet Hot Dogs. I didn’t have to be a detective to know it belonged to Theo’s daughter-in-law.

  I pulled in a parking space in front of Cool Breeze Bike Rental across the street from the truck. I waved at Matty, the bike rental’s owner, told him I’d be just a minute, and crossed the street to the food truck. The six-foot long service window was closed. No one answered after I knocked twice. I walked around the vehicle to see if Grace was nearby. She wasn’t, so I took a closer look at the vehicle.

  There was a dent on the back corner on the passenger’s side. I thought there would be more than that if I had to back the truck into parking spaces. The tires weren’t bald, although I suspected they’d have trouble passing a safety inspection. It appeared a miracle that Grace had safely made the twenty-three-hundred-mile trip from California.

  I knocked one more time in case she’d been sleeping. No response, so I headed back to my car.

  Matty was leaning against my hood. He smiled. “If you’d told me where you were going, I could’ve saved you a trip.”

  The truck was Grace’s only means of motorized transportation, so I knew she couldn’t have gone far. “You know where she went?”

  He waved in the direction of Center Street less than a block away. “When she started walking that way, I should have asked for a written itinerary and how long she’d be gone. I didn’t know you’d be asking, so I didn’t.”

  I smiled at my friend. “You don’t know where she went?”

  “No. Now that you’re standing in my parking area, keeping hundreds of vacationers from getting to my business which will probably put me out of work, let me ask something. Who is she? Why is that oversized hot dog stand parked there? Oh, yeah, where’s the lady from who parked it?”

  I wasn’t certain if Matty knew Theo. Even if he did, I doubted Theo would want him to know Grace’s story about why she was here.

  “Someone I recently met, name’s Grace. She wants to open a food truck on Folly. Why’d you ask where she’s from?”

  “She came over an hour ago to tell me her name. She gave me the cutest smile I’d seen in years. She has a delightful accent.”

  “If she told you her name, why ask who she is?”

  “There’s a difference between a name and who someone is.”

  True. I still didn’t want to get in an extended conversation about Theo’s daughter-in-law. “She’s Jamaican, came from California.”

  “Yep. Knew she wasn’t from around here. Mighty cute sounding. Is she thinking of opening her business there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hope so. She’s pleasant to listen to, and look at.”

  “If you see her, tell her I stopped by.”

  “You got it. Besides, that’ll give me an excuse to share some facetime with her cute Jamaican accent, and lovely smile.”

  I smiled. “Since when have you ever needed an excuse to talk to someone?”

  He smiled. “Now get your car out of here so real customers can get in.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The sun had concluded its work for the day while I was on my screened-in porch watching cars pass in front of the house, many carrying surfboards. I smiled, thinking about my ill-fated attempt at surfing with Dude, when the phone rang.

  “Chris, this is Matty. Did I catch you at an inconvenient time?”

  Matty was an interesting man, as Folly as anyone can be. This was the first time he’d called. I was tempted to ask him to teach telephone etiquette to my friends. As great as that temptation was, I decided it was more important to hear what he wanted.

  “It’s fine. What’s going on?”

  “You were asking about the lady with the food truck, so I figured you’d want to know something’s going on over there. Two patrol cars are parked beside the truck. Now, Chief LaMond just rolled up.”

  “Any idea what happened?”

  “Nah. The good news is there aren’t firetrucks, or ambulances.”

  That was good, although it didn’t answer my question. I started the block-long walk to the truck with the phone still to my ear. “You don’t have any idea what happened?”

  “I don’t think they’re there to buy hot dogs. If you’d mosey over, you could con your buddy, the chief, into telling you.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Good. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

  I was a half block from the food truck and saw flashing lights from the patrol cars. One of the cars was exiting the lot when I crossed the street in front of Grace’s vehicle. Its door was standing open, its owner sitting on the slide-out step. She wore a pink sundress, and her arms were waving around, like she was describing something to the chief who was standing in front of her, taking notes. Grace was backlit from the light inside the truck, so I couldn’t see her expression.

  Chief LaMond looked up when she saw me approach, pointed her pen at me, and said, “What took you so long. You’re usually attracted to commotion, like a mosquito to my lovely, ivory-hued arms.”

  Theo’s daughter-in-law stood then turned so I could see her face. “Hello, Mr. Landrum.”

  Cindy glanced at me then looked at Grace. “You know this fossil?”

  “Yes, mon. Mr. Landrum is a friend of, umm, someone I know.”

  It didn’t appear that Grace wanted to get into her relationship with Theo. “What happened, chief?”

  Cindy glanced at her notebook. “Someone broke in Ms. Stoll’s truck. I was taking down basic information, was about to ask her if she was related to Theodore Stoll when you stuck you nose in official police business, again.”

  Grace’s head jerked toward Cindy. “Are you familiar with Mr. Stoll?”

  She was about to get her first lesson in everyone-knows-everyone on Folly.

  “Most definitely,” Cindy said. “Known him ever since he moved her. Your relationship?”

  “I was married to Teddy, his son.”

  “Oh.”

  That threw Cindy. Now, for my contribution to the conversation. “Theo’s son and Grace lived in California. Theodore Jr., Teddy, was killed in a motorcycle accident a while back. Grace has moved here to open her business.” I looked at Grace to see if she wanted me to say more.

  She took it from there. “I needed to leave California, thought being closer to my father-in-law could be a good thing.” She waved her hand toward the truck. “Now, this.”

  “Was anything taken?” I asked Grace, sensing she was uncomfortable saying more about her family.

  “I don’t think so. I was eating supper at that place called Planet Follywood. All the mo
ney I have was with me.” She tilted her head toward the truck. “Everything in there is a mess. I can’t tell what could be missing.”

  I asked, “How’d they get in?”

  She started to respond when Cindy said, “Chris, why don’t you let me play cop and ask the questions?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Grace, how did they get in?”

  I turned my head so Grace wouldn’t see me smile.

  “The old girl has some age on her.” Grace pointed at the truck. “She’d be old enough to drink in most states. Has more than a few dings. Her air conditioning works only when it wants to. Her door ain’t quite as secure as Fort Know, mon.”

  The space between the door and the jam had a quarter-inch gap which was wider near the handle.

  Cindy nodded, wrote something in the notebook, pointed in the door, and said, “Anything broken, or just thrown around?”

  Grace stepped in the truck, and Cindy followed. I was behind Cindy and while the truck was old enough to drink, the interior had been converted to a food truck much later. Even with equipment strewn around, I could tell it was nearly new. Grace picked a large pot off the floor and set it on the counter.

  “It had been a bakery delivery vehicle in Los Angeles before we bought it. Teddy found a company in LA that converts step trucks into food trucks. We worked with them to have the interior custom outfitted. We did some of the work ourselves. I’ll pat myself on the back and say that I’m handy with tools; in fact, helped remodel a couple of restaurants in my younger days.

  “Even with doing much ourselves, it was still many thousand dollars later before this became our pride and joy. The good thing about it is it’s built to travel, to go over bumpy roads, to have a hard life. In other words, it would take a lot to break anything in here. At first glance, I don’t see anything beyond repair.”

  Cindy nodded as she looked around. “Ms. Stoll, can you think of anyone who would do this?”

  Grace looked at the floor as she leaned against the aluminum prep table. “Chief, I pulled onto your quaint island two days ago. I have only spoken to dear Theo, Mr. Landrum here, that nice man across the street with the bicycles, and Melody, the server at Planet Follywood. I do not know anyone else.” She shook her head. “What reason could I have accumulated for someone to want to do this to Hot Diggity Dog!?”

  Cindy picked up tongs from the floor, looked around, then set them on the counter. “Grace, it could be as simple as someone seeing the truck; not seeing anyone around; thinking there could be money inside; breaking in to steal it; getting frustrated when he or she couldn’t find anything worth stealing; then made this mess.”

  Grace dropped the tongs that Cindy had put on the counter in the compact sink and sighed. “I hope that it’s as simple as that.”

  Me, too, I thought.

  Cindy patted Grace on the arm. “Grace, would you like me to help put things back together?”

  “Oh, dear, Chief, you are way too kind. Thank you, but no. I will have it together in a jiff.”

  Cindy nodded. “That’s all I can do here. I’ll have some of my guys ask around to see if anyone remembers seeing someone lurking around. I doubt it’ll help. Anyway, we’ll try.” Cindy hesitated, then glanced at the sleeping bag rolled up between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat. “Grace, where are you staying?”

  She followed Cindy’s stare. “In the truck.”

  The Chief said, “Where are you parking overnight?”

  Grace lowered her eyes. “Last night over on the other corner of the lot. I was hoping to stay here tonight.”

  Cindy slowly shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Motor homes aren’t permitted to house occupants on Folly. Technically, your truck falls under that classification. Sorry.”

  “Where can I—”

  Cindy held her hand up. “There’s Walmart five miles up Folly Road on the left. Check with their manager. They let people park their motorhomes overnight in their lot.”

  “Thank you, Chief.”

  “I know you’ve been here only a couple of days, probably haven’t had time, but have you applied for a retail food establishment permit from the South Carolina Department of Health and Environmental Control?”

  “I was going to work on the application tonight.”

  “Great,” Cindy said. “What about a permit to operate on Folly?”

  “I’ll check on that tomorrow.”

  Cindy said, “I’ve pestered you enough. It’s nice meeting you. Sorry it’s under these circumstances.” She started toward the door, hesitated, pulled a card out of her pocket, and handed it to Grace. “Give me a call if you think of anything that might help. In case you don’t already know, Chris, while he’s often a pain in my posterior, is a good guy. He can be trusted.”

  She was out the door before I could say, “Awe, shucks.”

  Grace stared at the open door. “She seems like a nice person.”

  “She’s the best. Let me help you get straightened up.”

  “No way, fine sir. I’ll do it later. It’s not like it’s going anywhere. Do you mind if I sit down? This has been one long day.”

  I followed her to the front of the truck as she moved the sleeping bag from between the seats. She took the driver’s seat while I moved to the passenger’s seat.

  “Are you okay?”

  Grace was staring out the window at the lights from Pier 101, the restaurant at the Folly Pier across the parking lot. She didn’t say anything for a minute, then in her lilting voice said, “If someone told me six months ago that I’d be a widow, sitting in a ransacked food truck, staring at the Atlantic Ocean, I’d say they’d been smoking too much wacky weed.” Tears began flowing down her cheeks.

  Other than an occasional sniffle, we sat in silence, staring straight ahead.

  Ten minutes later, in a low voice, she said, “Dawg nyam yu suppa,”

  “What?”

  “Oh, sorry, it’s a Jamaican phrase that literally means, “Dog will eat your supper.” She looked at me as she attempted to smile. “It means I will be punished, something bad will happen to me, for some reason. Like what could be worse than your supper being given to a dog.” She sighed. “What did I do to deserve this?”

  “Bad things happen to the best of us, often for no reason.”

  “Mr. Landrum, I’m so terribly sorry. You don’t know me. Here I am, a middle-aged woman, acting like a sniveling baby taking up your time.”

  I touched her arm. “It’s okay, Grace. It’s okay.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to look toward the food prep area.

  “Would you like me to call your father-in-law? He has room in his house. He’d love for you to stay there. You can park the truck in his drive until you find somewhere of you own.”

  “No way.” She sighed. “He treated me like pig dung when we met.” She returned to staring out the front window. “I don’t blame him. Here I was, a stranger, trying to be family. The whole time I was driving from California; I knew he and Teddy had a horrible relationship. Besides, Mr. Stoll has a right to think I must want something. Why wouldn’t he think that? No way will I stay there, or ask him for anything.” She slammed her hand on the steering wheel. “No way.”

  “Grace, I’ve known Theo for a couple of years. I’ve been with him in rough situations. I’ve seen how loyal he was to his friends, even when it would have been better otherwise. Don’t judge him without getting to know him.”

  “Perhaps another time, mon. Now, I’d better get Hot Diggity Dog! to Walmart before she gets towed. Thank you for coming to check on me, Mr. Landrum.”

  She was pulling out of the parking lot before I had time to cross the road on my way home.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Charles and I agreed to meet for breakfast at the Dog, so I wasn’t surprised to see him at a table on the front patio when I arrived. I was glad he was there because the restaurant was packed. Plus, there was a couple accompanied by their collie waiting for an outdo
or seat.

  “Guess who called last night,” Charles said as soon as I sat.

  “Mick Jagger,” I said then took a sip of water that he’d had the server leave for me.

  “You suck at guessing.”

  Amber was at the table before I could offer a second guess. She pointed her pen at me. “Found more bodies?”

  “No. Good morning, Amber,” I said, practicing the lost art of politeness. “How are you this beautiful morning?”

  She smiled. “You’re the first person who asked me that today. I’m fine.” She pointed her pen at the wall between the patio and the inside dining area. “Guess what he’s saying in there about Anthony’s death?”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Who’s your favorite councilmember who’s here nearly each day with another councilmember, the one who’d rather spread gossip than butter?”

  Finally, a question I could answer. “Marc Salmon.”

  “Bingo. Are you ready to hear what he’s saying?”

  Two in a row I could answer. The day was looking up. “Yes.”

  “Said Anthony was shot because he stumbled on a drug deal. According to Marc, drug dealers were bringing dope on shore out there because it’s isolated, nobody’d be there after dark. Something about Anthony being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  That made sense, but I wondered how Marc heard about it. “Who told Marc?”

  Amber shrugged. “Didn’t ask. Needy customers keep interrupting his story. Want to me to find out?”

  Charles said, “You bet.”

  I added, “If you can without letting him know who’s asking.”

  Amber saluted then asked if I was ready to order yogurt.

  I said, “French toast,” to which she said, “Surprise, surprise.”

  Charles watched her leave. “You ready for me to tell you?”

  I’d forgotten what he was talking about. “Sure.”

  He said, “Laurie.”

  It was coming back to me. A call. “What’d she want?”

  “Thought you’d never ask. She wants me to come see her.”

  “Why?”

  “Didn’t say.”