by Bill Noel
“So Anthony’s investigation is on the back burner?”
“Back burner, crap. I suspect it’s no longer on the stove.”
Theo’s Mercedes pulled in behind Cindy’s truck. Grace was looking in Hot Diggity Dog! before Theo made it out of the car.
Grace pounded on the side of the truck, screamed a profanity, jerked her head toward the rest of us, then yelled, “Why?”
No answer was forthcoming.
She climbed in the ransacked vehicle.
Theo asked Cindy what she knew.
She told him the same thing she’d told me, which was near nothing.
Grace came out of the truck, sat on the step, then cradled her head with her hands. Her shoulders sagged, tears streamed down her face. She looked like someone had run over her pet dog. I suppose that someone had.
Cindy reached out and put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “Grace, I’m so sorry. Do you have any idea who might’ve done this?”
She repeated what she’d said after the first break in. Other than those standing around her now, she didn’t know anyone on Folly.
Theo said it had to have happened after they left for Charleston and wondered if anyone had seen anything.
Cindy said that no one answered at the house next door. The people who lived across the street said they didn’t hear or see anything. Theo said he saw Grace lock the truck before they’d left. He wondered how the person got in. Cindy told him it looked like the lock was loose from the first incident.
By now, Grace had regained her composure. She came over to Theo’s car, where the rest of us were standing. “Chief LaMond, what’s going to happen now?”
“One of my officers is contacting the crime scene techs in Charleston. If possible, they’ll get prints. I doubt it’ll do any good.” She looked at the side of Theo’s house and at the house next door. “Theo, you have cameras out here?”
“No.”
She pointed at the neighbor’s house. “Doesn’t look like they do, either. That’d be too easy. Grace, unless you have anything to add, I’ll be going.”
Grace said that she didn’t.
Cindy asked if she would be here all afternoon in case a tech arrives.
Grace said, “Maybe,” and Theo said that he’d be here.
Cindy, once again, told Grace that she was sorry, adding that it was a pathetic introduction to her new home.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
As Cindy left, Grace paced the driveway, alternating between mumbling profanities and asking why. Theo and I had no answers. She looked at the truck, shook her head, and said, “I need to walk off some energy. Anyone want to go?”
Theo confessed that walking around the City Market had zapped him. Besides, he needed to stay home in case a crime scene tech showed up. I said that I’d go. We walked a block in silence before she turned back toward her father-in-law’s house. “I’m glad the dear man didn’t want to come. I’ve seen potted plants move faster.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Please don’t tell him that.”
I shared that I was an off-and-on member of a walking group Theo was in, and that he could always be counted on to be the last to arrive at our destination.
“He may be slow,” she said, “but I don’t know that I’ve met a nicer man.” She laughed for the first time since she’d returned to his house. “Anyway, not a nicer man who’s got a prejudice streak, who was on the outs with my husband, who lives with his brother, who’s as funny as an ear of corn.”
“I’m glad you’re getting along. Like I told you, Theo is a wonderful person. From what I’ve seen, he would do anything for anyone.”
“He told me I could stay as long as I wanted to.” She shook her head. “After what’s happened to my truck, it looks like that’ll be a long time. I can’t believe someone did that.”
We were in front of Barb’s Books, and I nodded toward the building, “Let’s go in a minute. I’d like you to meet someone.”
Barb met us at the door with, “I bet you’re Grace, Theo’s daughter-in-law.”
“How’d you know?”
Barb chuckled. “When I moved here, it took me all of fifteen minutes to learn everybody knows everybody’s business. Of course, newcomers are a challenge, so that was why it took fifteen minutes in my case. It’s what makes Folly so great; it’s what makes Folly so exasperating. Not only do I know who you are, I know your food truck was vandalized the other day.”
Grace gave Barb an inquisitive look.
Barb smiled. “Heard it from Matty at the bike rental shop, and Paul at Mr. John’s Beach Store.”
Grace looked at her watch. “Let’s see, it’s been more than fifteen minutes. Heard anything about me today?”
Barb shook her head. “No, why?”
Grace grinned like she knew a secret that Barb didn’t know.
I knew where Grace was going with her question. I wasn’t ready to go there, so I formally introduced the ladies and told Grace that Barb and I had been dating. Three potential customers entered the bookstore cutting our conversation short. I told Barb that I’d call later. She put her arm around Grace’s shoulder and said that she was glad to see another businesswoman on Folly.
We were crossing the street in front of the Folly Pier when Laurie came down the steps, heading our way. She gave a knowing nod when she saw me, and I introduced Grace to her. Laurie said it was nice meeting Grace before asking where Charles was. I told her that I didn’t know.
Grace stepped closer to Laurie. “Oh, are you the lady who recently lost her husband?”
I thought lost was a poor choice of words, although I was impressed that Grace was catching on.
“Yes, he was murdered.”
Grace touched Laurie’s arm. “I’m terribly sorry,”
“Thank you. Have you lived here long?”
“Oh, yes. Nearly three days.”
That brought a smile to Laurie’s face, a welcomed sight.
“I’m a newcomer, too. Perhaps we can grab a meal sometime.”
“I’d like that,” Grace said.
They exchanged numbers, then Laurie said she needed to get home.
Grace and I continued our walk to the far end of the pier.
“Long pier,” she said as we reached the two-level observation deck.
“If you stood it on end, it’d only be seventeen feet shorter than the Eiffel Tower.”
Yes, Charles’s penchant for trivia was rubbing off.
She looked down at the Atlantic. “That’d be a long way to fall.”
I appreciated her sense of humor. “I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”
Her smile faded as she looked back toward the beach. “Chris, I don’t know what to think. Don’t know what to do.”
“About what happened to your truck?”
She nodded. “Why would someone do that? I don’t think anything was taken. Why break in to destroy my stuff?”
“Two reasons I can think of. To steal something of value, or to try to stop you from opening.”
Grace continued to look toward shore and said, “Nothing worth stealing was in there the first time, so why try again?”
“It’s unlikely that that was the reason. If it was, there would’ve been no reason to do so much damage the second time. Grace, think back, have you met anyone since you’ve been here who acted strange toward you?”
She smiled. “Theo tells me there is no shortage of people who seem strange, so how would I tell the difference? Besides, I haven’t been here long enough to talk to many people.”
“How about anyone who’s taken more than a cursory interest in the truck?”
She hesitated. “Not really. Matty, the bicycle man’s been nice. A couple of the gals who waited on me at the restaurants said they’d seen the truck and were curious. There’d even been two people who stopped to ask if I was hiring.” She smiled. “I didn’t tell them that, if I didn’t work free, I wouldn’t be able to hire me.”
After talking back and forth a few more minu
tes, it became clear that neither Grace nor I could shed light on why her truck had become a break-in magnet.
I said, “Let me change the subject. You were born in Kansas, grew up in the states, right?”
She nodded.
“I thought if the parent, or parents, were from another country, the children born here didn’t share their parents’ accent.”
Grace gave a knowing grin. “You wonder why I have a Jamaican accent?”
“Yes.”
“Chris, you’re perceptive. The only accent I had growing up was Midwestern. When I started waiting on customers in the food industry, I started throwing in Jamaican phrases and lilting some of my speech. It made customers happy. Happy customers bought more food, tipped better. The older I get, the more I sound like my dearly-departed father.”
“Grace, you’re a good actress, and pleasant to listen to.”
“Thanks, mon.”
I laughed.
She said that she should probably get back to see if the crime techs had arrived.
I offered to walk her back.
She thanked me, but said she’d be fine, before adding, if she could find Folly Beach from California, she could find Theo’s mansion.
I remained on the pier, enjoying the warm ocean breeze and the melodic sound of the waves as they rolled to shore. The shrill ring of my phone shook me out of what some would call a nap, I refer to it as relaxing. Regardless, it was abruptly interrupted by Charles who said, “It’s on. Tomorrow night, six, Snapper Jack’s. See you there.”
“What’s on?”
“Supper. Gail, Laurie, you, me. See ya.”
I’d hoped it was a dream, although I knew better.
Chapter Thirty
Snapper Jack’s is a colorful, multi-level restaurant on the corner of Center Street and Ashley Avenue, the site of Folly’s only traffic light. The restaurant’s central location, reputed for good seafood and live music, often attracted diners in excess of its seating capacity. Tonight would be no exception. The temperature was in the low-eighties, so I was glad to see that Charles had adhered to his thirty-minute-early routine. He was waiting for me on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. He wore tan shorts, a tan Tilley, and a light blue, long-sleeve T-shirt with UGF in large letters and Argos in smaller letters under it.
We’d beaten the supper rush and decided to head up the long flight of stairs to the rooftop bar where we could enjoy the panoramic view of downtown Folly, the nine-story Tides Hotel, plus a glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean thrown in to heighten the experience. Two tables were vacant along the railing overlooking the hotel. Charles gave one of his lovable smiles to the hostess as he pointed to the tables. He told her that there was going to be four of us, so she gave us our choice of tables.
A server, who told us that her name was Monique, but to call her Mo, arrived as soon as were seated.
Charles was quick to order a Budweiser, and told her that he’d probably need a lot more before the night was over.
I said water was fine, that I’d order something stronger once the others joined us.
Mo headed toward the covered outside bar, and Charles said that I’d sounded asleep when he called yesterday. He wondered if old age was catching up with me. I told him that I’d been enjoying the view from the pier which led into a discussion about why I’d been there. That led to telling him about Grace’s unwelcomed visitor, which, of course, led to him asking me how we were going to find out who’d destroyed the interior of the food truck. Our drinks arrived while I was telling him that it was in good hands, that we didn’t need to get involved. He took a gulp of beer then conceded I was probably right.
I was making progress until he added, “That’ll give us more time to figure out who murdered Anthony, figure out who tried to kill Laurie.”
“Charles, that’s what the police—”
He waved his hand in my face. “Her life depends on it.”
“Charles, that’s why it’s better left to the police.”
He stopped me again. “Before you start blabbing on about why it’s up to the police and none of our business, do you want to go down to wait for the ladies? They don’t know we’re up here.”
“You go. Remember, I’m the one who wasn’t invited.”
Whether he saw the wisdom of my comment, or didn’t want to argue, he headed for the steps. I stared at the ocean and admitted that he was right, followed by wondering how we could help the police, help before it was too late for Laurie.
It was quarter after six, so I was beginning to think that our guests had stood us up, when I saw Charles and the two ladies heading my way.
Gail was looking at Charles’s shirt, “What are Argos?”
Charles responded with words I’d seldom heard coming from his mouth. “I don’t know.”
I stood to greet the newcomers. Laurie didn’t appear to care about Argos, and met me with a hug. She didn’t seem upset that Charles had invited me. Gail was more fascinated with Charles’s shirt than Laurie or I were.
“Hi, Chris,” Gail said. “Charles was telling us that his shirt is from the University of Great Falls, that’s in Montana.”
“Interesting,” I said, not meaning a syllable.
The server appeared and told the newcomers they could call her Mo.
With that out of the way, Laurie started to speak, but was interrupted by Gail. “She and I’ll have white wine.”
I was beginning to agree with Charles about the quantity of drinks we would need. I told Mo the same for me.
“Guys,” Laurie said, “thanks for joining us. It’s nice getting to know people here.” She looked down. “Now that… now that Anthony’s gone, it’s lonely being in a strange place.”
Gail leaned closer to Laurie. “Now, dear, I’m here with you. You know it would be best for you to come back to Jacksonville. You have many friends there.”
Laurie said, “I appreciate you coming. This is my home.”
I wondered how many times she’d have to tell that to Gail.
Charles said, “When did you get here?”
Gail glared at him like he’d interrupted her Jacksonville sales pitch.
“Gail arrived this morning.”
It was refreshing seeing Laurie answer for Gail.
“I would’ve made it yesterday, but I’d been in a seminar in Saint Augustine, didn’t get back until late yesterday.”
“What kind of seminar?” asked Charles as Mo returned with our drinks.
Gail glanced at him. “Oh, I’m sure you’d not be interested.”
“Sure, I am,” he said.
Gail sighed. “It was about ways of searching for jobs, also assistance the state provides to employees whose companies are moving offshore. The company I worked for is moving operations to Mexico. I thought it’d help if I wanted to return to the workforce.”
Charles nodded. “Learn anything?”
“Not really. It was boring, boring, boring.”
“That’s too bad,” I said to get into the discussion.
“Not really. Dean’s spending day and night at the store, I wouldn’t have seen him much, anyway.”
Laurie said, “Gail, I thought you wouldn’t have to go back to work.”
“Wishful thinking,” Gail said. “Selling tires is getting fiercer and fiercer. Dean’s store is having to compete with stores and national tire chains that buy tires by the ton.”
Our drinks arrived, then Laurie tapped her friend’s arm. “Let’s talk about something more fun. It’s so nice out tonight. Look at that view. This is my first time up here.”
“It is a beautiful view,” Gail said, as she turned to Charles. “Have the police learned anything about who killed Anthony, or who shot at Laurie?”
That’s a fun topic, I thought.
Charles said, “I haven’t heard.”
Gail said, “Do they think the killer was after the treasure?”
“Gail,” Laurie said, “they don’t know why Anthony was killed. I doubt the person w
ould’ve shot him over some Civil War relics. Chris and Charles think Anthony may’ve run across guys being where they shouldn’t be, something about a boat delivering drugs. Isn’t that right, Charles?”
“That’s a theory.”
Laurie pulled her chair up to the table, sat up straight, and said, “See, Gail, it doesn’t have anything to do with the map, or anything we were doing out there.” She abruptly turned to me. “Chris, it was nice meeting your friend Grace. I’ll call her for lunch after Gail leaves.” She turned away from Gail.
I didn’t bother telling her that I’d known Grace for three days. I also didn’t bother trying to steer the conversation back to the topic of Anthony’s death, for she’d left no doubt the subject was now off limits.
The rest of the evening, we talked about everything but Anthony, the gunshots at Laurie’s house, or anything else negative. Tension seemed to fall off Laurie’s shoulders. Gail stopped interrupting everything Laurie tried to say. Charles attempted to be Charles a couple of times by asking questions that stepped over the none-of-your-business line, only to be deflected by Laurie. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to hide something, or was determined to keep the topics light. Either way, it turned out to be a pleasant night spent with pleasant friends, new friends.
The feeling of a pleasant evening was hijacked while I was walking home. All I thought about was Laurie’s brief mention of treasure, and the word that I hadn’t heard her say before: map.
Chapter Thirty-One
I woke the next morning, remembering that, somewhere in the amorphous state between sleep and awake, I thought about something that Laurie had said during supper that was significant. The problem was that, now that I was awake, I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I convinced myself that a walk next door to Bert’s to grab breakfast would jar the memory to the surface. Truth be told, I doubted that it would. I was searching for an excuse to buy a cinnamon roll.