Relic

by Bill Noel

  Laurie tensed, as if she didn’t realize that Charles was no longer beside her.

  Bishop touched Laurie’s arm. “It’s okay, you’re safe. If you could tell me what you saw, it might help us catch whoever did this.”

  Laurie looked down and touched her damp blouse. “Charles and Chris were here on the sofa. I went to get more coffee.” She, again, rubbed her hand on the blouse. “Picked up the pot, turned to bring it in here when the window shattered. Scared the hell out of me. I screamed, dropped the carafe. Glass flew everywhere, so did coffee. I ducked, umm, Chris came in. Then… then, nothing. I was in here and you came.”

  “Miss Laurie,” Bishop said, “did you look out the window either before it was shattered or after?”

  She rubbed her forehead, shook her head. “If I did, it was a glance. I didn’t notice anything other than it was a gorgeous day. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Do you know why someone would want to shoot you?”

  Laurie moved her hand away from her face then turned facing Officer Bishop. “Officer, I haven’t the faintest idea why someone killed my husband. I don’t have a clue why someone shot at me the other day. Now—” She twisted around to face the kitchen. “No…”

  Spencer stood in the doorway. “Officer Bishop, there wasn’t anything out there. It’s a big field. With so many trees, someone could hide and not be seen from the road, or the other houses.”

  Bishop nodded and turned to Laurie. “Miss Laurie, do you have family, or friends, you could visit until we get this figured out?”

  Charles added, “What about Dean and Gail?”

  Laurie glanced at him then turned to Bishop. “Officer, this is my house. Folly Beach is my home.” She pointed toward the north. “My husband is buried over there. I’m making good friends here, like Charles and Chris. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Bishop smiled. “It was simply a suggestion, Miss Laurie. I don’t think there’s anything else we can do here. I’ll call Detective Callahan to see if he wants to send a forensics team. They could look around outside, dig the bullet out of the wall. Most likely, all they’ll find will be the bullet. To be honest, I doubt they could find anything outside, other than a few beer cans, nothing useful. I’ll talk to Chief LaMond, and we’ll increase patrols in the area. Do you want me to help clean up the kitchen?”

  Laurie’s shaking was now limited to her hands. She made a brave effort to smile. “Thank you. My friends and I can get it cleaned up. I’ll call the chief’s husband at the hardware store.”

  “If you think of anything, regardless how inconsequential, please give us a call.”

  Laurie started to stand.

  “Don’t get up,” Bishop said. “I’ll find my way out.”

  I followed the officer to her car. Before she got in, she said, “Chris, how do you do it?”

  I knew what she meant; I didn’t respond beyond a shrug.

  Bishop said, “I know, I know. It’s a gift, a gift like a piñata full of pelican poop. You have any theories?”

  “I did until a half hour ago.”

  Bishop said, “You thought she killed her husband then took the shot into the house the other day to throw us off?”

  “Yes.”

  Bishop nodded toward Laurie’s house. “I suppose this shoots the hell out of that theory. Pun intended.”

  “Yes.”

  By the time I returned to the house, Charles and Laurie were in the kitchen. Charles was sweeping up glass, while Laurie was wiping coffee off cabinet doors. I grabbed a roll of paper towels to help Charles with the glass.

  “Laurie,” Charles said, “I know you don’t want to leave so how about calling Gail to see if she could come up to stay with you a few more days?”

  “I don’t know. She’s been so irritating lately.”

  Charles said, “It’d be good for someone to be with you.”

  “Suppose I could put up with her a few more days.” She stepped around the pile of glass Charles had swept to the center of the room. She grabbed the phone from her purse. Charles swept the pile of glass into a dustpan as Laurie sat at the table calling her friend.

  Gail didn’t answer, so Laurie left a message for her to return the call as soon as possible. She made another call, this time to Dean. From hearing one side of the conversation, I gathered that Gail was out of town for a couple of days and probably had left her phone in the hotel room. Dean said he would keep calling his wife to make sure she got Laurie’s message.

  Laurie may not have been the person shooting up her house, probably not the person who killed her husband, but she knew something that she wasn’t telling the police. It was time to find out what.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The kitchen was clean. Larry from Pewter Hardware agreed to stop by to fix the window. Laurie changed out of her coffee-stained blouse, and we’d returned to the living room. She sipped orange juice between bites of brownie, which, according to Charles, were both good for her health, and her nerves.

  Laurie’s hands had stopped shaking, so I thought it was an appropriate time to broach the subject. “Laurie, what aren’t you telling the police?”

  Her grip tightened on the juice glass. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s none of my business. You can tell me to butt out, if you want. You told us, and the police, that you and Anthony were at the Lighthouse Inlet Heritage Preserve searching for Civil War relics.”

  She mumbled, “Yes.”

  “I’ve heard from friends, who know way more about it than I do, that Civil War relics seldom hold great monetary worth other than sentimental value or value to a collector or museum.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So?”

  “Erik Swartz, a friend of mine, told me about a conversation he had with Anthony who told him all he planned to do in retirement was to fix up the house.”

  She continued to stare. “So?”

  “Erik said he joked to Anthony that it sounded like a lot needed to be done. My friend referred to it as a money pit. Anthony told Erik he was right, but wasn’t worried, because he’d dig up the money to do the work. I asked Erik if he thought Anthony meant it as a joke. He wasn’t sure. Laurie, was it a joke?”

  Charles had leaned back on the sofa as I prepared for an explosion.

  Laurie reached for another brownie, changed her mind, and pulled her hand back. “When I visited Folly as a young girl, my granddad told me stories about buried Civil War relics.”

  She was speaking low, so Charles and I leaned closer to hear.

  I said, “I remember you telling us that.”

  “I did, didn’t I? What I didn’t say was that Granddad also talked about how pirates stole tons of valuables from ships. That was long before the Civil War.”

  “A hundred years before,” interrupted Charles.

  Laurie nodded. “I learned some of it was buried out where we were.” A tear formed in the corner of her eye. “We were looking for it when… when it happened.”

  “Wow,” Charles said. “How’d you know it was there?”

  Laurie wiped the tear from her face then looked at the floor. “It’s cursed. Granddad told me stories. He told me about ghosts of pirates watching over buried treasure. He told me anyone who tried to find it will be struck dead. I thought he was telling stories to scare a little kid. I should’ve believed him. The curse killed Anthony.”

  I remembered William talking about pirates burying treasure along the coast, possibly in the Carolinas. He also talked about a curse on anyone who digs up the treasure. Laurie hadn’t answered Charles’s question, so it wouldn’t be long before he repeated it.

  “I’ve heard those stories,” Charles said. “How’d you say you learned about the treasure being at the old Coast Guard station?”

  “Charles, Anthony is dead. Someone’s trying to kill me. It doesn’t matter how I learned it.” She pounded her glass on the table, effectively shutting down Charles’s questions.

  “Laurie, I understand,” I said, even though I didn’
t. “Who else may’ve known where you and Anthony would be that day?”

  She leaned back and took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell anyone, honest to God I didn’t. I can’t speak for Anthony. From what you said, he told your friend, it’s evident that Anthony told some of it to a stranger. He could’ve told others.”

  Charles said, “Anyone in particular?”

  She hesitated, then said, “One day, we were in Bert’s Market. Met some old guy. We were buying flashlight batteries when he made some crack about them being for our apple. I think it was a joke, you know, like an Apple iPhone. Out of the blue, Anthony started telling him about us relic hunting.”

  I’d already heard the story from the old guy, Stanley Kremitz. “Did you tell him when you were going to be out there?”

  “Not then. I remember Anthony telling him more than I thought he should about what we were doing, especially since relic hunting was prohibited in the Preserve.”

  Charles said, “So you didn’t tell him anything about specific times?”

  “No. That doesn’t mean Anthony didn’t. Chris, I didn’t know about his conversation with your friend.”

  “Have you met Abraham Gant, goes by Captain Gant?” I asked.

  “Captain Gant. Didn’t know his name was Abraham.”

  Charles said, “You know him?”

  “No, Anthony told me about him. They about got in a fight.”

  I knew what the captain had said about meeting Anthony, how he thought Anthony was okay until he said something about relic hunting. “What happened?”

  “Gant knew my granddad, said he liked him. Anthony and the captain were having a pleasant conversation, until the topic of relic hunting came up. The captain got mad. From what my husband said, Gant looked like he’d hit him.”

  Charles said, “Did Anthony tell the captain that you’d be out there that night?”

  “He could’ve. He tended to open his mouth without thinking. That was cause for more than one argument. He didn’t tell me he told Gant about it.”

  “You’re certain you didn’t tell anyone about where you were going to be that day?”

  “Yes.”

  Laurie’s phone rang. She said, “Hello,” then moved to the bedroom.

  Charles watched the bedroom door and said, “Aren’t you glad I invited you to the party?”

  “That’s what friends are for. What do you think of her story?”

  “Which story?”

  “She didn’t tell anyone they’d be out there that night.”

  “Even if she’s telling the truth, hubby was a blabbermouth, he could’ve told anyone. And, what’s with her not saying how they knew where to look for the buried treasure? The Preserve is a big plot of land to be roaming around hoping to dig up a fortune.”

  “She knows more than she’s saying.”

  “Wow, Sherlock, you figure that out by yourself?”

  I was working on an incredibly humorous, insightful retort when Laurie returned.

  “That was Gail. She’ll get back to Jacksonville tomorrow, will head over here the day after tomorrow.”

  Charles said, “That’s great.”

  “Yes, you all can meet us for supper once she arrives.”

  What was it that I was saying about malaria?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Charles was scheduled to make a delivery for Dude’s surf shop, so I dropped him at his apartment then realized that I was hungry. After what I’d been through at Laurie’s, I didn’t want to eat at a restaurant, so I stopped at Woody’s Pizza to get supper to go. Instead of ordering one of their pizzas, which I knew I’d eat too much of and later regret, I settled on a sub sandwich.

  I’d opened my door when my phone rang. I considered not answering, and enjoying a peaceful meal at home, without any outside distractions. Seeing the name Cindy LaMond on the screen convinced me to answer. It’s never wise to ignore a call from the chief.

  “Hey, Chris, know where Theo is?”

  “What makes you think I’d know that?”

  “Figured you knew everything.”

  “That would be Charles.”

  “True. Charles hadn’t spent time with Theo. Officer Bishop said she saw your car at Theo’s this morning.”

  Nothing like small-town life. “I have no idea where he is.”

  “How about his daughter-in-law. Know where she is?”

  “No, why?”

  “I’m standing in Theo’s drive, staring at a big ole’ food truck. Its door was open, so being the good cop that I am, I peeked inside to make sure no one was dying, or dead. The good news is there were no bodies. Bad news is I’m no food-truck doctor yet, from my lay perspective, Hot Diggity Dog! has serious internal injuries. It may not be able to fix-up any more hot dogs.”

  “No one’s at Theo’s house?”

  “Not even the one-man comedy show.”

  “When I was there this morning, neither Theo, nor Grace talked about going anywhere. Any idea what happened?”

  I heard Cindy talking to someone then returned to talk to me. “I asked Officer Bishop to call Charleston to see if they could free up a crime scene tech. If there’s nothing serious going on over there, they might send someone. It’s unlikely they’ll find anything. Whoever did this probably wore gloves. If not, there should be a thousand of their fingerprints. You wouldn’t believe the mess.”

  “I’ll be over,” I said, hesitated while waiting for her to give me a lecture about it being a police matter, for me to stay away.

  “What took you so long to decide?”

  I parked on the street in front of Theo’s house. Bishop was pulling away in her patrol car. Cindy’s Ford F-150 was in the drive behind the food truck.

  “Any word on Theo, or Grace?” I asked Cindy as she leaned against the truck.

  “No. I called the number Grace gave me. It rolled over to voicemail. Do you know Theo’s number, or if Sal has a phone?”

  “I’ll call Theo.”

  The homeowner answered and asked what was going on.

  I asked if he knew where Grace was. He said that she was with him at the City Market in downtown Charleston. He was giving her a tour, and asked why I wanted to know. I told him where we were and why. He ended with saying they’d be back as soon as he could maneuver his way back to the car. Before I let him go, I asked if he knew where Sal was. Theo said that his brother had taken to walking around town sharing his unlimited supply of jokes with shop owners. He was probably irritating one of them.

  I told the chief what he’d said, then asked what made the police stop at the truck.

  “Officer Bishop was on patrol, saw the door open. She wanted to stop to check on Grace. Bishop knew Theo’s daughter-in-law was shook after the first break in and wanted to see if she was okay. I was nearby and stopped to see what was going on.”

  “Good. Could I look inside?”

  “Have at it.” She chuckled. “Don’t mess anything up.”

  A glance in the door told me why her comment was so funny. The inside of the truck looked as damaged as would a carton of eggs if someone took a sledgehammer to it. Not only was the equipment smashed, it was demolished. Everything breakable was broken; everything bendable bent. If the stainless-steel equipment, shelving, and cabinets had any value left, it was as scrap.

  Cindy stood behind me. “Theo’s cute little daughter-in-law has seriously pissed someone off.”

  I said, “That’s an understatement.”

  It was hot in the truck, so I asked Cindy if she wanted to wait for Theo and Grace in my car.

  She said that the air conditioning sounded good.

  While we were waiting for the owner to arrive, I shared what Charles and I had learned from Laurie about what her grandfather had told her about gold being along the coast, that was what she and Anthony were looking for. I also shared what she’d said about stories that there was a curse on anyone who tried to find the treasure.

  “I reckon Anthony Fitzsimmons is now a strong believer in the
curse. You know those stories about buried treasure, pirates, ghosts that come in all shapes and sizes, and curses have been around for decades. So, the Fitzsimmons were out there looking for treasure instead of Civil War relics?”

  I nodded.

  “Which leads to a couple more questions. How in the ghost of Blackbeard did they think they could find something that hundreds, hell, probably thousands, of people who’ve turned over every rock, dug hole after hole, and gossiped about in local bars couldn’t find?”

  “I don’t know why—”

  Cindy waved her hand in my face. “Hold your blunderbuss, Pirate Chris, I’m not done. The more important question is if someone killed Anthony because of the gold instead of it being a random drug deal gone bad, how did the killer know the Fitzsimmonses would be there?”

  “Hold my what?”

  “Google it, or ask Charles. He knows everything.”

  I realized that I didn’t care enough to do either. “Laurie hadn’t told anyone here, or so she said. Anthony is another story.” I shared what Erik Swartz had told me, what Laurie said about Anthony’s annoying habit of talking too much, and about his confrontation with Captain Gant.

  “I get it. It’s no telling how many others Anthony told about hunting for relics, or buried treasure. That could increase the suspect pool to each living resident on our quaint island, not to mention ghosts residing here. It still doesn’t answer how the couple thought they had the inside track on finding the treasure.”

  I agreed yet continued thinking that Laurie knew something she wasn’t telling us; something I was determined to learn more about. My mind was wandering to how to find out, so must’ve missed part of what Cindy said.

  “Cindy to Chris, stop daydreaming. It’s possible, unlikely, I know, but possible, I said something important.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I talked with Detective Callahan last night to see if he’d learned anything. He was more interested in telling me about the new murder investigation he’d caught yesterday morning. It’s high profile, so the political bigwigs are pestering the sheriff for a quick close, which means that, like all, umm, excrement, it flows downhill. Callahan is supposed to put everything else aside to make the sheriff look good, good to those who vote for him. His sheriff can be persuasive like that.”