The Folly Beach Mystery Collection Volume II

by Bill Noel

  I pulled in the drive of a house that appeared vacant, so I could focus on the call instead of driving.

  Charles leaned closer to the phone, and said, “What’s the good news?”

  “Chris, you got a Charles stuck in your throat?”

  “Got a Charles stuck in my car,” I said.

  “Poor boy,” Cindy said.

  I assumed she meant me instead of Charles.

  Not to be deterred, Charles said, “The good news?”

  “I’m still getting a paycheck and get to drive around in a nifty vehicle with a siren and I don’t have to pay for it.”

  “Congratulations,” Charles said.

  “Enough about my wonderful life. Why’d you call?”

  I told her what Barb had said about the Canadians checking out of their condo two weeks early.

  “Holy moly Chris, you know how many people check out early from rentals, hotels, condos, and tree houses?”

  “How many?” Charles butted in.

  “First, Charles, I asked Chris, not you. Second, I don’t have a flippin’ clue. It’s got to be several. Things happen that we didn’t count on. Plans change.”

  “True,” I said. “There’s more. Barb also said the guys were asking if Joy’s memory was returning.”

  “I want to know that myself. So what?”

  “So, they’re two men from outside the area with no reason to care about Joy or her memory. I know it’s a weak link, but don’t you find it interesting that they’re interested in her memory, and then leave Folly when her memory starts returning?”

  “Weak link,” Cindy said, “It’s a feeble, puny, scrawny link, and that’s giving it too much credit.”

  “I know. Regardless, Barb said she had an uneasy feeling when the guys were talking about Joy.”

  I heard Cindy sigh. “Suppose it’s better than no link. Barb didn’t happen to know what the guys drove, their license plate number, or their home addresses, did she?”

  “No. She said they rented through Avocet. I suspect a police chief who still has a job and a vehicle with a siren could wrangle that information out of the rental agency.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it for Barb. We chicks need to stick together. Anything else you want to share while you have my less than undivided attention?”

  “Yes,” Charles said, “we just—”

  “Charles, I was talking to Chris.”

  “In fact, yes,” I said. I told her about our visit to Hope House and Joy’s vague memories of an apartment, most likely hers, and seeing two men in the bar and their mention of the jewelry store that was burglarized. She stopped me and said she needed to get something to write on. I heard her rustling papers, and she asked me to repeat everything.

  I did, and Charles added, “Larry’s going to replace the locks at Hope House this afternoon.”

  “That I knew,” she said. “That’s the advantage of sleeping with a hardware store owner.”

  “Ewe,” Charles said.

  “Chris, and I mean Chris, did Joy happen to remember the name of the bar or the location of the apartment?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Anything else, Chris.”

  “No, sorry.”

  Charles said, “That’s it, Chief.”

  Charles pointed at the next cross street. “Next stop, Martha Wright’s house.”

  I turned right and back toward town, so I could get on East Arctic Avenue, the one-way street headed toward Martha’s. Her drive was empty.

  “Crap,” Charles said. “How can the danged pet sitter sit if she’s never here?”

  Add that to the lengthy list of questions to which I had no answer. I pulled in the drive and didn’t know if Charles thought the pet sitter walked to the house or someone dropped her off. He bounded up the steps and rang the bell and received the same response that he’d received the last time he tried. Barks in several octaves reverberated through the house, and the door remained closed. We headed to the back yard where we found more of the bowls had food in them then during our last visit. Someone had been here.

  Charles shook his head, and said, “Want to wait for the sitter to come back?”

  “That could be hours.”

  “Or minutes,” he said, with more optimism than I could muster.

  “I don’t think it’ll do any good to wait. Besides, we don’t know that Pluto is still missing.”

  Charles pulled his phone out his pocket and tapped in a number. “Yo, Dude. This is Charles. Is—” His head bobbed from side to side. “Oh.” The head bobbed some more. “I’ll keep looking.”

  He ended the call. “Pluto still ‘be bye-bye.’”

  “Sorry.”

  “Me too. Why don’t you go on home? I want to stay and wait for the sitter. I’ll walk home.”

  “You sure?”

  He said he was, and I left him on Martha’s front steps.

  I took an extra-long route home in the unlikely event I’d see Pluto hitching a ride, and to think through what Joy had said about an apartment and overhearing two men talking about the jewelry store that happened to be burglarized overnight. I couldn’t shake the fear that she was in danger and that I couldn’t do anything to lessen that chance.

  22

  I awoke early the next morning and realized that I hadn’t had anything substantial for supper. I checked the weather on my phone and saw that it was already in the low-fifties; a glance out the window revealed that it was sunny. A walk to the Dog would be good for me even if French toast wouldn’t.

  I stepped through the entry and was greeted by Amber.

  “Merry Christmas Eve, Eve,” she said and pointed to my favorite table, which was empty and waiting for me.

  I thanked her for holding the table for me.

  “You’re not that important,” she said with a smile. “Nobody else wanted it.”

  With my ego sufficiently deflated, I slid in the booth and she said coffee and water would arrive shortly. I thanked her and looked around the near-empty restaurant. Marc Salmon was at his usual table near the center of the room. He nodded my direction and said he was waiting for Houston. I smiled and nodded, acknowledging his comment.

  Amber returned with my water, a cup of coffee, and a question. “Has Pluto returned?”

  I told her I didn’t know, but as of yesterday afternoon, he hadn’t.

  “Nope,” Marc said from the center of the room. “I saw Dude on my way here. He was looking for his little buddy.”

  “That’s too bad,” Amber said. “Hope the little fellow’s okay.”

  “And, hope Pluto is too,” Marc teased.

  Amber and I smiled but didn’t comment on the councilmember’s joke.

  Bernard stuck his head in the door and headed my way.

  “Would it be possible for me to join you?”

  “Sure,” I said, like I had a choice with him standing in front of the table eying the seat across from me.

  “Thanks, Broth—umm, I mean, Chris. Sorry, sir, Preacher Burl’s got me talking like that.” He sat and unbuttoning his faded army jacket.

  “Chris, do you know what the word mistletoe means?”

  That was a question I’d never been asked. “No, what?”

  “Get this,” he said and smiled. “It’s derived from two old-time words that mean poop on a stick. Can you believe that?”

  “You made that up.”

  “No, sir. Saw it on TV this morning. It seems that mistletoe seeds are eaten by birds, and then pooped on tree branches, and the seeds grow into mistletoe. Ain’t that a hoot?”

  Now there was a Christmas story I hadn’t heard before, and doubt Preacher Burl had ever shared from the pulpit.

  “Bernard, that’s interesting. Do me a favor and don’t tell Charles.”

  “Poop on a stick is safe with me,” he said. “Knew you’d be interested.”

  He didn’t know me as well as he thought he did. “What brings you out so early?”

  “Thought I’d walk around a while and look for P
luto. Besides, the kitchen was getting a little too uncomfortable for my liking. Joy, Rebekah, and Adrienne were gathered around drinking coffee and complaining about men. I felt like I was the enemy, being of the male species.”

  I was tempted to laugh, but saw that Bernard was serious. “What were they saying?”

  “Not exactly sure. I walked in on the conversation. Joy was saying something about men and escaping off the boat. Adrienne were saying that they knew what Joy was talking about and that she was at the house after being deserted by an abusive husband who left her for his massage therapist. I didn’t hear Rebekah’s problem with guys, but from the look on her face, it must’ve been bad.”

  Burl had shared the information about Adrienne, but I didn’t know anything about Rebekah other than she worked at Black Magic. I was curious about Joy and asked Bernard if she’d said anything more about being on the boat since she’d been unclear about what had happened when she talked to me.

  Before he answered, Amber was at the table asking what we wanted to eat. I said French toast. Amber acted shocked.

  Bernard said, “That sounds mighty good, ma’am. I’ll try some.”

  Amber smiled and said she thought she’d be able to find him French toast.

  She left, and Bernard said, “Nice lady.”

  I agreed, and he asked what my question was again. I asked if he remembered anything new that Joy had said.

  “Not that I heard, other than she was on the boat and was tied up by two men.”

  “She said two men?”

  “Yes, sir. I remember because it was the first time I’d heard her talking about being on the boat. It got my attention because there was only one guy who tried to break in her room. Why?”

  “She’d only mentioned one man when she talked to me.”

  Bernard scratched his head. “Wait, there’s something else. Some of us were talking last night about how we got around on Folly. Rebekah and I don’t have wheels and hoof it. Adrienne has an old Chevy pickup truck. Smokes like a pile of damp logs on a fire. Joy said she didn’t have a car or a truck and had to walk from her apartment to work.”

  That was new, and I asked him if she knew where her apartment was.

  “No, sir. All she said was that she had to walk.”

  “She say anything else?”

  “Nothing she hadn’t said before.”

  “How well do you think she’s adjusting to Hope House?”

  “Better than I’d be doing if I didn’t have a memory and didn’t know why someone took me on a boat to do whatever they planned to do. I can’t see how it could’ve been anything good. It’s fortunate that she managed to slip out of the ropes that were on her ankles and wrists. She said the next thing she remembered was how the storm was flinging water over the bow and how the guys in front were fighting to keep it from overturning. Then she was in the water, clinging to a surfboard.”

  Some of that was news to me. “Did she tell you that or are you guessing about what happened?”

  “She said it last night, sir. I couldn’t have thought that up on my own.”

  Our breakfast arrived, and Bernard stuffed three bites in his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days.

  He took another bite and pointed his fork at me. “Got a question for you, Chris. We live in a big place, the biggest house on the street, with lots of bedrooms. How do you think the man trying to break in Joy’s room knew what room was hers? I’m thinking that someone living there must’ve told him.”

  “Any idea who?”

  “It wasn’t me, and I’d wager it wasn’t Preacher Burl.” He chuckled. “I don’t have anything to wager, but you get my drift.”

  “I understand. What about the others?”

  “That only leaves Rebekah and Adrienne. I know Adrienne better than I know Rebekah. She doesn’t strike me as someone who would do something bad like that. She’s a loner so I don’t know who she could tell. Rebekah, come to think of it, has been seeing someone, or that’s what she says. None of us have seen him.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Near nothing. It’s someone she met at Black Magic.”

  “Customer or employee?”

  “Sir, that’s more intel than I have access to.”

  “How do Joy and Rebekah get along?”

  “I haven’t seen them conversing much. The most I’d ever seen them talking was on Woody’s Wednesday.”

  “Woody’s Wednesday?”

  “Burl picks up two large pizzas from Woody’s each Wednesday. I think he pays for them some weeks and other times they’re donated. Other restaurants occasionally kick us a few meals, but Wednesdays are my favorite.”

  “That’s nice of the restaurants.”

  “Preacher has made a lot of friends since opening First Light. It makes us feel like we’re part of the community.”

  “Back to Joy and Rebekah. Do you remember them saying anything about what happened to Joy?”

  “Nah. It was more girly stuff, you know, like makeup, hair, and how stupid men are.”

  “Nothing else about the men who took Joy?”

  “No, more than anything, I think we’re all nervous about somebody sneaking around the house and talk to each other to keep our minds off it. We’ll rest easier after the hardware store man gets the locks changed. Hope he doesn’t charge too much. Money’s in short supply. If it wasn’t for the donated food, I don’t know what Preacher would do.”

  “I know Larry LaMond, the man who owns the hardware store. He’ll give Preacher Burl a good deal.”

  Bernard nodded. “Good. Money don’t grow on trees, you know.”

  “Bernard, you said you thought it may’ve been someone living there who told the intruder which room was Joy’s.”

  “Yes.”

  “What about someone who used to live there?”

  “Chris, there’ve been a bunch of people since I moved in. I don’t remember some of them. How could we figure out which one?”

  “Most of them wouldn’t know which room was Joy’s. What about people who recently moved?”

  “If they moved before Joy moved in, how would they know which room was hers?”

  “Process of elimination.”

  “Chris, you’re going to have to dumb that down for me.”

  “They’d know which room you, Adrienne, and Rebekah were in, and where Preacher Burl lives. They’d know that Joy was in one of the other rooms.”

  “Got it. Let’s see, there’s Al. No, he moved a few weeks before Adrienne moved in. Besides, he moved to California. Scratch him.” He took another bite of breakfast and rubbed his chin. “Okay, in the last couple of weeks before Joy arrived, two guys left. There’s Alex and Taylor.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  “Let’s see, Taylor left after Preacher Burl found him a job in North Charleston. Lucky man. And, there’s Alex Rockford. Never did trust him and was glad to see him go.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “Don’t know. He was there for supper one evening and gone by the time breakfast was served. I don’t like spreading rumors, but I heard he’d been in jail for burglary. Don’t know if it’s true.”

  “When did he leave?”

  “Give me a minute. Oh yeah, it was the day the faucet in one of the bathrooms broke and water spewed all over the room. Had to get a plumber. I’ll tell you, it was a mess.”

  “Bernard, when?”

  “Oh, two days before Joy showed up.”

  “Would Taylor and Alex have known which rooms would’ve been vacant when Joy moved in?”

  “I would think they’d know that their rooms would be empty.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  Bernard took the last bite of breakfast, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said, “Chris, I sure appreciate you letting me break bread with you.” He smiled. “Preacher Burl says break bread a lot. It’s rubbing off on me.”

  I returned his smile and said, “Worse things could ru
b off on you.”

  “One more thing. Could I impose on you to lend me a few dollars to cover my breakfast. My inheritance hasn’t come through yet, and you wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to pull money out of a stock portfolio.”

  I smiled and told him I’d take care of the breakfast. “Under one condition,” I added, “you call me if you hear Joy say anything new about her ordeal.”

  He saluted, said, “Deal, sir,” and left the restaurant with a full stomach and a smile.

  I had nowhere else to be, and the Dog had several vacant tables, so I asked Amber for a more coffee. She returned with the coffee and asked if I’d run Bernard off with my boring conversation. I told her no, and that I reserved boring conversations for Charles since he doesn’t listen to anything I say.

  She patted me on the arm and said, “Don’t be too hard on yourself, I’m certain that in the decade you’ve known him, he must’ve heard something you said.”

  I thanked her for the vote of confidence, and she smiled and headed to a table in the center of the room to spread more holiday cheer.

  I took a sip of the refreshed mug of coffee and tried to recall everything Bernard said that Joy shared, especially anything new.

  Joy seemed more certain that there were two men on the boat instead of only one as she previously mentioned. Also, one of the things that I couldn’t previously figure out was how she’d untied herself, grabbed a surfboard, and get off the eighteen-foot-long boat without the men knowing. I hadn’t thought about how horrific the storm had been the day before we found her. If the men were struggling to keep the boat from capsizing, it was possible that she could’ve slipped overboard before they noticed her missing. They probably figured she drowned with the storm so intense, which was probably their intent from the beginning.

  Joy also told Bernard and the others that she didn’t own a vehicle and that she walked from her apartment to the bar where she worked. It could’ve been a bar on Folly since they are all within easy walking distance of most buildings with apartments, yet, her description of the bar didn’t fit any that I was aware of.

  Then, what about Bernard’s theory that one of the current residents told the man who was trying to get in Joy’s door which one was hers? Even if he was right, how could anyone prove it. Even if you add residents who recently moved, you have the same problem.