Relic

by Bill Noel

  He’d have to get in line, I thought as I walked to the trio.

  Grace, earning her name, put her hand on Sal’s wobbly shoulder. “That’s okay, Salvadore, you can’t help yourself.”

  She was a quick learner. Theo wasn’t as forgiving. He gave his brother a look that would stop a charging rhinoceros.

  Sal ignored his brother’s glare. “What happened?”

  I joined the group to listen as Grace and Theo tag-teamed their explanation of what had occurred. Sal asked the same questions Cindy had asked and received the same answers until he asked a new question. “Was it insured?”

  Grace lowered her head. “It was when we bought it. We had to have insurance in California. I didn’t have enough money to keep it up. I didn’t owe anything on the vehicle, so I dropped the comprehensive policy when I got here. I still have collision insurance.”

  Please, Sal, don’t make a joke about the truck colliding with a match, or some other feeble attempt at humor.

  He showed a glimmer of sensitivity when he said, “Grace, I’m so sorry.”

  She thanked him.

  “Sal,” said Theo after Sal’s moment of concern. “Did you see anyone skulking around after we left for Charleston?”

  “No. I headed to the Crab Shack before you got off the island. Been there ever since. I heard the fire trucks. Didn’t know where they were going, or I would’ve followed.”

  Theo looked at the burned-out truck then turned to Grace. “Let’s get in the house. I could use a spot of brandy.”

  Grace didn’t say anything as she followed Theo.

  Once again, Sal refrained from joking.

  I walked by his side up the wide steps to Theo’s house, the house spared by the quick-acting firefighters.

  Theo went to get drinks, miracles continued when Sal offered to help.

  Grace plopped down on the leather sofa in the great room. She twisted her hands together, looked at me, and said, “Why?”

  I wish I had an answer.

  Air conditioning, brandy, wine, and beer didn’t reveal the answer to why someone set the fire, but calmed everyone’s nerves.

  Grace relaxed enough to joke that she knew today’s sales were good, yet didn’t realize they would be a record high.

  Sal thought it was funny but didn’t want to be topped so he added, “Did you hear about the new restaurant on the moon?”

  Grace tilted her head. “Don’t believe I did.”

  Theo sighed.

  Sal said, “It has great food but no atmosphere.”

  I excused myself on that note.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I’d agreed to meet Charles for breakfast at the Dog. I arrived forty-five minutes before the designated time, in the hope of beating my buddy. I failed. He was sipping coffee at my favorite booth along the back wall. He saw me at the door then glanced at his bare wrist as I made my way to the table.

  “You’re early,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

  Forty-five minutes early, I thought.

  Charles wore a blue long-sleeved T-shirt with Salve Regina University in green on the front. I’d never heard of the school, yet still didn’t mention it. I asked if he’d been here long.

  “Not long. You walk?”

  “Drove.”

  He shook his head and sighed at the same time, his way of saying poor, pitiful Chris.

  He made a walking motion on the table with two fingers. “Thomas Jefferson said, ‘Walking is the best possible exercise. Habituate yourself to walk very far.’”

  “Chris Landrum said, ‘Good morning, Charles.’ ”

  Amber arrived at the table in time to hear my effort at bringing civility and less presidential history to the table. She pointed at Charles’s T-shirt. “It’s in Newport, Rhode Island.”

  Amber knew how much I tried to ignore Charles’s T-shirts collection.

  Charles beamed.

  I wanted to go back to the car and instead of walking, drive, far away. I said, “Coffee, a lot of it.”

  Amber chuckled, bent down, and kissed the top of my balding head. I’d never admit it to them, but this kind of disjoined conversation was one of the reasons I loved living here. Amber went to fetch my drink.

  Charles watched her go then turned serious. “Chris, I like Laurie. She’s nice, but seems lost. I can’t imagine how it would be to lose a spouse. She’s got to be lonely. Look how many times she’s asked us to be with her.”

  I wanted to point out that she asked him, not us, but I let it go.

  He continued. “I’m worried about her.”

  “Why?”

  “Is your old age killing off so many brain cells you’ve already forgotten two attempts on her life? If she’d been with Anthony when he was killed, she’d already be dead. Can’t you see how much danger she’s in?”

  “I know that. I wondered if there was something else you were referring to. Have you talked to her since we were at her place?”

  Amber returned with my drink and asked if I was ready to order. I told her French toast. She pretended to be shocked at the same thing I ordered ninety percent of the time.

  After Amber headed to the kitchen, Charles said, “She called me around midnight. I was asleep. It must’ve taken me a long time to answer because she said she was afraid I wasn’t going to.”

  “Was something wrong?”

  “That was my thought. Calling me at midnight is like calling you geezers at ten. Snoresville.”

  I was only two years older than Charles, both of us senior citizens by any definition.

  “Again, was anything wrong?”

  “If there was, she didn’t tell me. Said she was sitting in her dark house, needed someone to talk to. I asked if Gail was there. She said she’d gone back to Florida. Even if she was still on Folly, Laurie said she needed someone to talk to, not to listen to.” He shook his head. I took a sip as I waited for him to continue. “Chris, she didn’t give another reason for the call. She sounded scared.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Don’t think so, but I may’ve dozed while she was talking. She rambled on about the night Anthony was killed. She’d said most of it to us before. She did talk more about the map, also wondered why it wasn’t with the body. Seems to me the killer took it. For some reason, she doesn’t want to believe that’s what happened.”

  Amber returned with my breakfast, plus a drink refill for Charles, before moving to a group seated across from us.

  Charles looked in his mug as he rubbed his chin. “Chris, I’ve been thinking.”

  “About?”

  “We know there was a map.”

  “Not for sure.”

  “Whatever. Let’s say there was. Anthony had it the night he was killed, but it wasn’t on him when the cops came. The killer has it. So, what’s the logical thing the killer will do?” Before I could respond, Charles said, “Try to find the treasure.”

  “Which, number one, may’ve been discovered years ago; two, the killer could’ve already found it; three, the map could’ve been a cruel joke drawn decades ago, leading to nothing.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, you said the police have pushed Anthony’s death to the backburner, so it’s up to us to solve it. We owe it to Laurie.”

  I was surprised, no, shocked, that I agreed. The most valuable lesson I’d learned, over my many years, was that friendships are more valuable than anything, and friends, devoted friends, would do anything for each other. Of course, it would be a stretch to count Laurie as a friend, a stretch for me. Charles didn’t appear to have that reservation, but he was my friend.

  “How do you propose we do that?”

  “Stake out the Preserve. That’s where the treasure is. That’s where the killer will be looking.”

  “Charles, that’s a huge piece of land. It’s been days since the murder. The killer may have already found the treasure, that is, if it ever existed. What’re we going to do if we discover someone looking? It’s a long shot.”

 
; “A long shot’s better than no shot. What’s the downside?”

  Wasting part of the life we have left. Getting countless mosquito bites. Being stuck in the woods with each other for hours. Oh, yeah, not to mention losing our lives to someone who’s already killed once and tried twice other times.

  After all that, I heard myself saying, “When do we start?”

  Charles smiled; the smile he uses when he’s won a major victory. We remained at the table another hour, getting ugly stares from customers waiting at the door for a table in the crowded restaurant. We hatched what could be considered a futile, harebrained plan to catch a killer. It was still peak vacation season, so most of the day the Lighthouse Inlet Heritage Preserve would be packed with vacationers, local fishermen, adventurous bicyclists. Like Anthony and Laurie, we’d limit our time at the Preserve to the late hours when attendance would be minimal.

  At the end of our lengthy discussion, I was convinced that our chances of succeeding were miniscule. To paraphrase Charles and in terms our surfer friend, Dude, would be proud of, “Miniscule be better than no scule.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  It was four hours before Charles was to pick me up for our trip to the old Coast Guard property. The weather was perfect. Puffy high clouds meandered through the deep blue sky; the temperature was in the lower eighties; plus, a kind breeze provided nature’s air conditioning. I hadn’t seen Barb for a couple of days so decided a walk would do me good.

  I was turning the corner in front of Snapper Jack’s and nearly ran into Sal, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at the traffic light. He saw me, smiled, and pointed at the light that’d turned yellow. “Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, yet has to check when you say paint is wet?”

  “Ask Dude. He’s the astronomer.”

  Sal sighed. “It was a joke, Chris.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re supposed to laugh, not recommend an astronomer.”

  “I know.”

  He mumbled, “Tough audience.”

  “Yep. Where’re you headed?”

  “Nowhere, but making good time. Actually, I’m walking off my hearty lunch.”

  “At the Crab Shack?”

  “How’d you know? Oh, wait, I forgot, everyone here knows everyone else’s business.”

  “A lucky guess. Theo said you’d made friends with some regulars.”

  “One of the things I hated about spending years on the road, travelling from venue to venue, telling the same stale jokes night after night, was not making good friends.”

  “What about the comedians you travelled with?”

  “We all knew each other, but we spent more time stabbing each other in the back than making friends. Getting to know some of the guys, and gals, at the Crab Shack is a welcomed treat. Most of them, anyway. One old gal must’ve fallen off her rocker before it landed on her head. One guy seems mad at everything, including everyone. Somebody told me he had a couple of businesses that went belly up. It may be true, but why take it out on me? I wasn’t here when it happened.” He shook his head. “Then, God didn’t implant a sense of humor in a couple of them. They look at me like I’d barfed up a squirm of worms after I tell a hilarious joke.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, or from telling him that those were probably the people with the best sense of humor. Instead, I said, “It takes all kinds.” Time to change the subject. “How’s Grace?”

  “Don’t know. She was gone when I rolled out of bed at the crack of noon. I’m trying to get in the swing of getting up early like Theo, or you other early birds.” He looked at his watch. “I’m getting better.”

  I’d heard enough about his quest to experience more daylight. Time to steer the conversation back to Grace. “Was she okay after I left last night?”

  “I’ve seen worse. Often at my performances. She’s shook. She masks it with her Jamaican charm, but she’s mad as hell.” He glanced back at the light then at me. “Don’t blame her.”

  “How’s your brother adjusting to both of you staying with him?”

  Sal tilted his head to the left then to the right. “Hard to answer. I don’t know how the old boy was before I moved in, so I couldn’t say which of his many quirks are because I’m there, or if he was always that way. You might’ve noticed I occasionally tend to tell a joke before my mind catches up reminding me it may not be appropriate.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “I’ll admit, I’m an acquired taste, like opera, or bourbon. Theo’s seems to be catching on. He’ll occasionally laugh at something I say. To answer part of your question, I think he’s beginning to adjust to having his smarter, better-looking, wiser brother shacking up with him.”

  I almost laughed then realized he may not have been joking. “What about Grace?”

  “She thinks I’m hilarious.”

  Another joke?

  “No, I meant how is Theo adjusting to her being there?”

  “I knew what you meant. I was being funny.”

  So, it was a joke. Hard to tell.

  “How’s he doing?”

  Sal rubbed the side of his head as he looked down at the sidewalk. “Theo took the death of his son mighty hard. They had an off again, off again relationship. My poor brother now knows that it’ll never get better. That hurt more than he’ll admit. I think when Grace arrived, it brought all of Theo’s pent-up feelings about Teddy to a head. He didn’t know what to think about her.”

  “His hurt, anger, frustration, and every other negative emotion he had stuck down in his gut erupted on the poor gal. I felt sorry for her at first. Here she was, losing her husband, moving from California, trying to start a new life, meeting her pap-in-law for the first time. Add to that, Theo treating her like she was Freddy Krueger knocking on his door.”

  This was the first time I’d seen Sal’s sensitive, perceptive side. “Theo’s gotten over most of the hard feelings, hasn’t he?”

  “Grace is a cutie, a charmer. Theo’s happier now than since I got here.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, I’ve made him a happy man.”

  “I thought it was Grace.”

  “Chris, it was a joke.”

  I smiled. “I’ll let you get to your walk. Let me know if you hear anything, if any of your new friends have any ideas about who torched her truck.”

  He walked away without a parting joke. Was it my lucky day, or what?

  Two customers were meandering through the book shelves when I entered Barb’s Books. The store’s namesake was helping a young lady search for something in the young adult section. Barb wore tan shorts, a red blouse and, around her neck, a silver chain with a starfish-shaped charm dangling from it. I smiled, remembering how happy she was when I gave her the necklace for her birthday.

  She saw me in the doorway. “Don’t run off. I’ve got something to tell you.”

  The young customer found what she was looking for. She took two books to the checkout counter. After the customer paid, Barb glanced at the other browser leafing through a book in the far corner of the room.

  Barb pecked my cheek. “Good afternoon, Christopher. What brings you in this lovely day?”

  “You, of course. How’s business?”

  She told me it had been steady, also that I’d missed William who’d left a few minutes earlier. She added that a woman brought in a box of recent best-sellers to trade. I didn’t figure that those facts were what she wanted me to stay for. I reminded her that she wanted to tell me something.

  She continued to look toward the customer. “Stanley Kremitz was in first thing this morning. After picking up a copy of The Catcher in the Rye and telling me that it was an oldie goldie, he started talking about Abraham Gant.”

  “What about him?”

  “He hinted that Gant, Captain Gant, had been bragging that nobody was going to be digging up the past on his island. Gant said Anthony got what he deserved. The same fate would
come to anybody else who’s stupid enough to defile the past.”

  “Did Stanley think Gant was implying that he killed Anthony?”

  “He didn’t put it that way, yet I had the impression that’s what Stanley meant.”

  “He say anything else?”

  “This is where it got strange. After he told me about Gant, he said he’d heard you and I were dating, and you’ve been asking a bunch of questions around town about the murder. He said he’d bet his bottom dollar you’d be interested in what Gant said.”

  “Was he hinting for you to tell me?”

  “No doubt.”

  I told Barb about how Stanley had hinted that Abraham Gant could be the killer.

  “You think he’s trying to deflect attention from himself?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes narrowed. In a muffled voice, she said, “And you’ve told this to the police so they, not you, could follow up.”

  Not quite a subtle hint. “I shared it with Chief LaMond.”

  “Good.” She’d made her point, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to reemphasize the part about the police following up.

  The remaining customer approached the counter carrying several books, so I told Barb that I’d talk to her later.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  A dozen vehicles were parked along the street, and in the public parking area near the end of East Ashley Avenue, close to the entrance to the Lighthouse Inlet Heritage Preserve. Most likely, they belonged to a combination of residents at nearby rental houses, and vacationers who’d walked to the far end of the Preserve to view the Morris Island Lighthouse. Charles parked close to the houses so, if most of the vehicles left while we were there, his car would look like it belonged to one of the renters.

  It was still more than an hour before sunset. I looked at Charles, who was wearing his black, long-sleeved NYPD T-shirt he reserves for times he’s either meeting with cops, or pretending to be a detective. “Okay, Charles, this is your plan. What now?”

  He tilted his Tilley back on his head. “Figured we’d sit a spell in air-conditioning while we watch for somebody walking toward the entrance, carrying a treasure map, and a shovel.”