Rag Doll in the Attic

by Jan Fields

  “I’m glad you’re finally seeing that,” LeeAnn said, her own voice turning firm this time.

  12

  After she finished on the phone, Annie hurried to get ready for her trip into town since the combination of journal reading and chatting with LeeAnn had her running late. She grabbed a sage green jersey cardigan from Gram’s closet, remembering how chilly she’d gotten the day before. There was no telling how long she might be out today. She was certainly a much busier person since she had come to Stony Point.

  She picked up The Secret Garden and slipped it into her purse, and then rushed out to her car. As she drove, she made a little mental to-do list: drop off book, finish library research and check with Mary Beth to see if there was anything she could do to help with the library event. To that list, Annie considered adding a quick trip to her lawyer’s office. She’d like to talk with him about any legalities she ought to consider if she decided to take Pastor Mitchell up on his idea of using the Brookfield house as a missionary retreat.

  Her to-do list was derailed at her first stop. As she hurried into The Cup & Saucer, Ian stood just inside the door. “What a wonderful surprise,” Ian said. “Will you save a friend from a lonely breakfast?”

  The muffin Annie had eaten at home seemed to have left plenty of room in her appetite. “That would be nice,” she agreed.

  Peggy swooped down on them and filled their coffee cups. Annie handed her the book. “Thanks, so much,” she said. “I was sketching a plan for the quilting just last night.”

  “I’m sure it will be beautiful,” Annie said.

  “Will you be having your usual, Mr. Mayor?” Peggy asked.

  “No, I’m breaking out of my rut. Bring me pancakes,” he said “and bacon.”

  Annie and Peggy both smiled at Ian’s attempt at bold change from his usual egg and toast. “I think I’ll try Ian’s usual egg and toast,” Annie said. “We don’t want the cook getting out of practice making the mayor’s complicated breakfast.”

  Peggy’s eyes danced with laughter as she nodded, and then cut her eyes toward the kitchen before leaning close to the table and whispering. “Alice and her gentleman friend were in here until closing time last night.”

  “They must love your coffee,” Annie said mildly. She had no intention of gossiping about Alice. She loved Peggy dearly but was fully aware that anything she said would be all over town by lunchtime. Alice might be used to the small town’s lightning-fast gossip chain, but Annie didn’t want to contribute to it more than she had to.

  “It is great coffee,” Ian chimed in as he looked from one woman to the other. Peggy clearly wasn’t offended in the least by Annie’s redirection as she winked at Annie and headed off to the next table.

  Ian smiled at Annie over his coffee cup. “I assume Alice is seeing someone new?”

  “You mean there is something happening in Stony Point that the mayor doesn’t know about?” Annie asked in mock shock. “I do believe that’s a first.”

  “Everyone has an off day.”

  Annie laughed. “Have you met Jim Parker, the photographer researching Butler’s Lighthouse?”

  Ian shook his head. “Charlotte mentioned him though. I believe he’s been visiting the Historical Society, and the ladies there don’t totally approve of him. Apparently Liz felt his clothes were shabby, and he has a scruffy beard. Charlotte made him sound like a lost hippy who might be up to all manner of nefarious deeds.”

  Annie laughed at the description. “Actually he has more of a grizzled sea-captain look, I think. Between Peggy and your secretary, I’m starting to understand why you’re always so well informed.”

  “I could say a mayor needs to understand what goes on in his town,” Ian quipped, “but I have to admit, I listen to Charlotte out of self-defense. When she comes in with a story to tell, it’s just not safe to refuse to listen. She may work for me, but I’m not confused enough to think I’m her boss.”

  Annie nearly laughed out loud. She had thought Ian’s secretary only scared her. It was good to know Charlotte made Ian a little nervous too. “Just out of curiosity,” Annie said, “why did you hire her?”

  “I inherited her from the previous mayor,” Ian said. “I think she might have come with the original building. No one has quite the courage to replace her.”

  “I’m getting a whole new vision of you, Mr. Mayor.”

  “I’m predictable and easily terrified,” Ian said. “Now you know all my secrets.”

  “Your secrets are safe with me,” she said.

  “I believe that completely.” Ian sipped from his coffee mug, then asked: “So, back to our original topic—is this Jim Parker interested in Alice?”

  “They seem to be mutually interested in one another,” Annie said.

  “What do you think of him?” Ian asked. “I like Alice, but she hasn’t always shown the best judgment about men.”

  Annie thought about her own record as a judge of character, especially the incident of being both charmed and terrified by a slick crook who’d come to Stony Point months ago. Were her own instincts any better than Alice’s?

  She sighed. “I don’t know. I like him, and he seems sincere. Alice was smart enough to check up on him, but I don’t get the feeling he’s planning to stay in the area long. Alice said she understands that, but … ” Annie shrugged.

  “What you know and what you feel aren’t always in sync,” Ian finished for her.

  “Not always,” Annie agreed. “At any rate, Jim Parker is interested in the lighthouse legend, and whether it ever actually claimed any victims.”

  “You mean the lighthouse keeper’s curse?” Ian asked incredulously. “That’s just a story to scare kids and drive the police crazy.”

  “He thinks a little girl may have died near the lighthouse,” Annie said. “It might be connected to the legend somehow. Maybe a little girl from around the time my mother was young?”

  “Your mother?” Ian said. “I never met Judy Spencer, and I’m not quite old enough to have known her when she was a Holden. Didn’t she marry a missionary who visited here to talk about his trips?”

  Annie nodded. “Dad was only a little older than Mom. His parents were missionaries before him, and he never considered anything else. My mom always knew she wanted to help people, but I’m not sure how much she’d thought about being a missionary before she met Dad. In fact, I’ve never known a lot about her at all, but I’m starting to learn.”

  “Oh, how’s that?” Ian asked.

  Annie smiled and leaned forward eagerly, her face lighting up. “I found a journal from when she was a kid. She was one of the Wild Jays I told you about.”

  “So it was her doll?” Ian asked.

  Annie shook her head. “No, I think it belonged to another girl. But I still feel like I’m getting closer. And it’s wonderful to get that peek into my mother’s life as a young girl.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” Ian asked.

  “No,” Annie said, “but if something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

  They finished their breakfast soon after and left the diner together. Ian reminded Annie to call if she needed any help. Then he crossed Main Street to head toward Town Square. Annie watched him for a moment, thinking how very lucky she was to have made such good friends.

  Then she mentally reviewed her to-do list. Did she want to head up the street to the library or down the street to check with Mary Beth about the crafts program? The day was too beautiful to shut herself away in the Reference Room yet, so she decided to check with Mary Beth first.

  She had reached A Stitch in Time when she heard her name shouted from across the street. Alice and Jim were coming out of Malone’s Hardware. “Annie,” Alice shouted again. “Come and join us on our adventure!”

  Annie smiled and crossed the street, thinking Alice’s dressy clothes didn’t look like adventure wear to her. Alice looked especially chic in a pair of perfectly tailored white slacks with a black silk tee that draped softly at the neckline.
A wide black belt and lightweight cardigan in thin black and white stripes made Alice’s hair the only burst of color, drawing extra attention to it.

  “What kind of adventure do you have in mind?” Annie asked.

  “We’re entering the cave of the dragon ladies,” Alice said.

  Jim laughed. “Actually we’re going to visit the Historical Society again to see if your friend has softened them up.”

  Annie looked over Jim’s well-worn jeans. His shirt was a soft blue and obviously new. She wondered if Alice had a hand in sprucing him up since his hair looked almost tame. “You look nice,” she said.

  “It’s Alice’s intervention,” Jim said, and Alice caught his arm just before he could run a nervous hand through his hair. “She’s helping me look presentable to see if that helps. I tend to feel overdressed if I don’t have enough wrinkles in my clothes.”

  “I think you look very presentable,” Annie said. “But do you really want me along?”

  “Absolutely,” Alice said, linking her arm through Annie’s and towing her along as they headed toward Alice’s convertible. “They adore you at the Historical Society ever since you found that unknown Betsy Original in the attic, not to mention that map.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Annie said, “but I’m happy to help however I can. I still think my mystery might have some overlap with yours.”

  “Well, I hope you aren’t disappointed in that,” Alice said as they neared the car. “I’m glad you’re willing to come. How can anyone be mean to Annie Dawson?”

  “As I remember, some of the folks here have had no trouble at all with that,” Annie said.

  “All horrible misunderstandings,” Alice said, continuing to tow her friend along.

  “But this is going to put off my finishing that research at the library.”

  “First things first,” Alice said. “We’re off to do battle with dragons!”

  13

  Annie had actually never been to the old Historical Society building. Stella Brickson had told the group months ago that the society hoped eventually to transfer everything to a larger building adjacent to the new Cultural Center, but the group stayed so busy they had not gotten much moved yet.

  Alice found an empty parking spot near the old brick building. Like many New England structures, it looked a bit like someone had built a normal brick building, and then squished it from both sides until it looked abnormally tall and narrow. The windows mirrored the structure of the building, and the door to the street had a small white sign that said “Stony Point Historical Society.”

  As they climbed out of the car, Annie smiled at Jim’s wind-tousled hair. Riding with the top down on the convertible had definitely undone his efforts to look refined. Alice paused to fuss over him a moment, but finally gave in with a shrug when the heavy lock of gray hair fell over his forehead for the third time. “I give up,” Alice said. “Your natural ruggedness defeats me.”

  “We’ll just hope for the best,” Jim said.

  Alice led the group into the building with all the determination of an explorer conquering a mountain. The door opened to a long, dark hall with open doorways on either side. Each doorway had a sign indicating its contents, including such unusual labels as “Town Ephemera” and “Whaling and War Artifacts.”

  “Hello?” Annie called softly. “Is anyone here?”

  A willowy older woman, who Annie recognized as Liz Booth, president of the Historical Society, stepped out of one of the far rooms and smiled warmly at Annie. She had close-cropped white hair that looked fine as fledgling down. She wore corded slacks in a vintage avocado color and a blouse constructed from a wild collection of fabrics in reds, blues and greens. The chocolate-colored velvet collar of the blouse matched the woman’s brushed-suede flats.

  “Hi, Annie! It’s nice to see you again,” Liz said, warmly. “May I help you with anything?” She then appeared to catch sight of Jim as he limped through the door behind Annie and Alice. Her smile stayed on her face but looked strained around the edges.

  “Hello, Liz,” Annie said. “We were hoping you could answer some questions we had about Butler’s Lighthouse.”

  “Of course,” Liz replied. “Please, come back here where we can sit comfortably.”

  “Thanks,” Annie said as she followed Liz back into the room she’d stepped from. The room was more brightly lit than the hall, the tall windows letting in the morning light. The sparsely furnished room held a battered old oak desk pushed under the windows and a leather loveseat and several high-backed chairs in a small grouping around a low table.

  The older woman sat perched on the edge of one of the chairs. Alice and Jim settled onto the loveseat, and Annie took another chair in the circle. Liz looked pointedly at Jim.

  “Stella Brickson spoke to us about you and your research,” she said. “I still am not interested in seeing private information about Stony Point families in a book, but I will be happy to help you with information on the Butler’s Lighthouse legend.”

  “Actually, I have a question,” Alice said, “and I’ve always wanted to ask someone. Why was the lighthouse keeper so mean when I was a kid?”

  Liz smiled slightly. “You must mean Matthew Murdoch. His is a very sad story, but it might be interesting for your book.” She cut her eyes to Jim.

  “Do you mind if I record this?” he asked, fishing a small digital recorder from his shirt pocket.

  “No, I don’t mind,” she said, “but keep in mind that I’m working from memory here, though I can show you all the documentation we have to back it up.”

  “Thank you,” Jim said. “I suspect your memory is impressive.”

  Liz smiled at that, and Annie noticed some of the strain had slipped from her face.

  “Matthew Murdock was a ship’s captain before he became a lighthouse keeper,” Liz began, her voice settling into a nice storytelling lilt. “He had a fishing vessel that sailed out of Stonington in Connecticut. Normally each fishing trip lasted from three to eight days. His boat was a dragger, meaning he used nets for bottom fishing. He was rather young to captain his own ship, but it was a family business, and I understand he was very competent.”

  “And cranky,” Alice muttered.

  “That came later, I think,” Liz said, smiling slightly at Alice’s grumble. “Matthew was married, and they had a young son. The little boy adored his father and often begged to go out on the fishing boat. Finally, Matthew agreed. The day seemed clear and bright, but we know how quickly weather can change in New England on the coast.”

  All three listeners nodded in unison, already caught up in the story.

  “The weather turned violent suddenly. Captain Murdoch sent his wife and son below when waves began washing over the side of the ship. He feared they would be swept away, and he trusted in his ability to get them safely home. The wind and waves pushed the fishing boat even further south, well past where they wanted to be and toward a rocky shore. A lighthouse warned boats away from that shore, but it wasn’t lit on that stormy night. Rumor says the lighthouse keeper drank too much, passed out and let the light go out. The boat ran upon a rock and sunk so quickly that the captain couldn’t get to his wife and child. They alone drowned, while the captain and crew survived.”

  “How horrible!” Annie whispered, thinking of the frightened woman, trapped below the deck in the dark as the water rushed in. For a moment her mind turned to Wally Carson and his desperate longing to captain his own ship, and her imagination replaced the faceless woman and child with the faces of Peggy and Emily. She pushed the image away quickly, but it made her shiver.

  “Many say it drove Matthew mad,” Liz went on, her voice turning a bit mournful. “He never returned to the sea and took up the job here as lighthouse keeper, vowing that his light would never go out. He rarely left the lighthouse for any reason and half-starved himself and his dog for fear of the light going out when he was in town getting supplies.”

  “Poor man,” Annie said kindly.

&nb
sp; “Poor dog,” Alice grumbled.

  “Butler’s Lighthouse saved a number of ships during Murdoch’s years of keeping,” Liz said. “I believe he received a commendation for his work more than once.”

  “What happened to the lighthouse keeper who let his light go out?” Jim asked.

  “He was fired, of course,” Liz said. “And he might have been tried for his negligence, but he disappeared. Some whispered that Murdoch killed him, but that’s just gossip. There was never evidence of something like that.”

  “I could picture Old Man Murdoch killing someone,” Alice said. “He was mean.”

  “He was still a young man when he took over here,” Liz continued. “He never mixed much with the local people, though that might have been partly from his fear of ever leaving the lighthouse. People say he was especially upset whenever he saw children in danger, even danger they brought on themselves.” She looked pointedly at Alice with that remark.

  “So he would have been very upset by children out in a storm,” Jim said.

  “Upset,” Alice grumbled. “Try crazy.”

  “I believe he would have been,” Liz said. “I never actually met Mr. Murdoch as I wasn’t yet involved with the Historical Society when he died, though my mother was. She always felt Murdoch was far more sad than scary.”

  “How did he die?” Jim asked.

  “He had a heart attack,” she said. “He was found in the lighthouse keeper’s cottage.” Then she turned to Annie. “It was actually your grandmother who alerted authorities that something must be wrong. The keeper’s dog came down and scratched at her door. Since that dog never ever left the lighthouse property, Betsy immediately called the police, and they found poor Matthew in the cottage. He would have been glad to know he was found before the light could go out.”

  “Gram never told me about that,” Annie said.

  “You would probably have been a young mother then,” Liz said. “Besides, Betsy Holden always preferred to focus on the good news of life.”