Solomon's Compass

by Carol Kilgore

  “You sure you’ve seen nothing of interest?”

  “Positive.”

  “Dan?”

  “He has pieces picked out, but nothing vital or priceless, I assure you. You’re welcome to come look. We’ve finished the house. The items Dan wants are together at the front of the shop.”

  “Tomorrow. I have baseball and softball games to attend today. In the meantime, I’m going to request Rankin’s be put on drive-by rotation. You put my cell on speed dial.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to pull the records for the drowning investigation and reread them, along with the autopsy report. The M.E. ruled the death accidental, but I don’t recall any details. In light of the threats against you and Will, I need to revisit those findings. I’m dealing with the hotel break-ins, too, but I’ll get it done.”

  “You don’t think the break-ins are connected, do you?” She hadn’t put Randy’s possible murder and the hotel break-ins together until Glen mentioned both cases back to back.

  “The thought crossed my mind, but so far I haven’t seen any indication.”

  They hung up for the second time, and Taylor stared at the wall. She hadn’t dwelled on the call to Will. When the first one had come to her, a tiny tickle at the back of her mind raised the possibility that Randy might have been murdered. She had ignored it. This call moved that tickle toward the front, flipping the odds. One thing Taylor knew for sure—the caller was desperate to acquire at least one of Randy’s former possessions.

  If the break-ins were connected, the burglar wouldn’t have found what he was looking for in her room. Whether it was the belt, or the photographs, or something else entirely, Taylor knew without a doubt that whatever it was, she would find it buried in Will Knox’s backyard.

  She went back to clearing tables, her mind on the call and on Randy. Her energy had dropped, and it took her longer than it should have to remove the fishing line around the outboard motor parts. At the next table, more line stretched from one end to the other, around, under and over items, encircling a coffeemaker. A bored kid must’ve been in here with his dad. She found the scissors Dan had brought out from the house and went to work.

  Thirty minutes later, she stepped back and surveyed her progress. She’d cleared a fourth of the table. She pushed on. An hour later, she neared the far end. She understood how moving things on the table could’ve caused the line to tangle. The longer she worked, the more she doubted her theory of a bored child. Every inch of the shop was trashed, but this table was the worst. What if Randy had sabotaged it in some way? She started looking for booby traps.

  A folded tarp—or maybe it was a small sail—lay atop the line. She moved it and found two dozen mugs in blue and white in the bottom of an old cardboard box. The mugs were set up like a checkerboard, alternating blue and white. In a white one lay an old watch.

  She picked it up, her energy level zooming. “Wow!”

  As beautiful as the curved art deco watch on the front was, her focus returned to the two blue stones tethered at the ends of the rectangular timepiece with thin copper wire. She rubbed them against her cheek and inhaled the familiar scent of the leather band. Finally she found an item she wanted. The last time she saw the lapis lazuli stone, it had been in one piece instead of two and set in the center of Randy’s belt buckle. The compass rose.

  Taylor brought the band to her nose and inhaled again. Her nose hadn’t lied. She would never forget the scent of the cream Randy used on the belt. Memories flooded back. Driving his boat. Their conspiracies against her mother. Playing dominoes. She sighed. She still had trouble believing Randy was gone.

  After pressing the band against her cheek, she held it out for inspection. The leather was the right thickness, but held no embossed letters. If it was his Solomon’s Compass belt, why had he cut it up? She didn’t know. But maybe she could find out if she could figure out the right questions to ask those who knew him.

  She set the time on the watch and wound it, but the second hand didn’t move. Oh, well. She could have it repaired. The bulky one-piece band dangled from her wrist, so she shoved it to her elbow to keep it snug.

  By the time she finished the table, she’d filled six trash bags, three on the first row and three at the last table alone. Dan might throw away more, but his discards would be items he recognized as having no value. She took the bags to the trash bin and checked the time on her phone. It was almost noon—time to head to Lulu’s. And Jake.

  She locked up and started to her car. Will was crossing the road and waved.

  He waited by her car door. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”

  “No plans. Maybe work here.”

  “I’m taking the Red Witch out for trials. Want to come along?”

  “Are you kidding? Sure! Not many people can say they’ve participated in sea trials on a catamaran. You finished the repair already?” Taylor would welcome a day on the water and away from Randy’s mess.

  He laughed. “Turned out to be less of job than I thought. I still have to clean, prep, and paint both hulls so they match. I thought you might like to get out on the bay. Be here around noon and we’ll head out.”

  Will turned back toward the boatyard, and Taylor backed down the driveway. At the corner she stopped and removed the watch. Might not be a good idea to show the world what she’d found.

  At Lulu’s, a Bud sign blinked in a small window, and several newer cars and pickups filled the parking lot. Taylor wondered which was Jake’s. Inside the door, she took several seconds while removing her sunglasses to scan the room for him.

  Two large windows in the rear overlooked a shady patio. The outside tables were empty—no one wanted to eat outside when the temperature hovered near a hundred degrees. A silent baseball game took place on the television and music from Aida played in the background.

  Not finding Jake, Taylor clambered atop a stool to wait for the large woman working at the other end. Carved names and messages covered the old mahogany bar. None of the names were familiar to her, and she wondered if Randy had etched his mark onto the bar.

  “Whatcha want, honey?”

  Taylor met the woman’s solid gray stare. “Are you Lulu?”

  She nodded. “All my life.”

  “Hey, Lulu,” a man called from the far end, “we need another round over here.”

  “Menu’s up on the blackboard, hon. Be right back to take your order.” She grabbed a fresh pot of coffee as she went.

  Taylor was busy trying to decipher some of the words on the bar when someone sat on the stool to her right. Without looking, she sensed Jake’s presence. Warmth spread through her.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  She smiled at the Brooklyn accent. “Small town. Have you seen these messages?”

  “You presume I’ve been in here that much?”

  She cocked her head at him. “Well?”

  He smiled. “Guilty as charged.”

  Lulu returned. “Okay, hon.”

  “I understand your burgers are the best in town. I’ll have a cheeseburger and a Shiner Bock.”

  Lulu looked at Jake. “You want your regular?”

  He nodded and winked at her. “You know I’m in love with you.”

  Lulu turned away without a word.

  Taylor punched his arm. “Boy, she’s got your number.”

  “Everybody’s got my number. How are your hands doing today?”

  “Healing.” She held them out. “My palm itches like crazy and the soreness has gone. The fingers all itch and are pretty sensitive.”

  “Tell me again how it happened.”

  “I didn’t tell you the first time. I was cleaning my uncle’s house, and a couple of razor blades got in the way.”

  “They make holders for them to keep your fingers safe.”

  He was fishing, but she wasn’t sharing.

  Lulu arrived with their beers. “Won’t be long—burgers are on the grill. You need to watch out for him, hon. God blessed him
with a smooth gift of gab, and the devil made him a rogue. Twenty years younger, and I’d make a play for him myself.”

  Jake leaned over the bar and kissed her. “I can die happy having met my match.”

  “Hey, Lulu,” came from the far end. She took off with the grace of a herd of gazelle.

  Taylor sipped her beer. “I like her. Randy did, too, I imagine. Sometime when there aren’t so many cars in the lot, I’ll stop and talk to her about him.”

  “She’ll like meeting you.”

  “Were you on the Point boat with him? I don’t remember the boats each of you rode.”

  “I was on a different one—the Point Whitebanks. Same division.”

  “Were you keeping in touch all these years?” A new idea winked to life, and she turned it this way and that.

  Jake held his hand above the bar, palm down, raising one side then the other. “Phone calls every now and then. You knew I came here once, and he dragged himself out of Texas once to visit me.”

  “About fifteen years ago?”

  “Seventeen.”

  Exactly. “He pinned on my shoulder boards when I graduated from the Academy.”

  “I knew a woman had to be involved.”

  They both laughed.

  Lulu roared through the swinging doors. “Burgers!”

  Jake made a show of rubbing his hands and licking his lips in anticipation.

  She slid the plates in front of them. “Y’all enjoy.”

  The burgers were huge and came with giant homemade onion rings. Jake dug right in. She cut hers in half. The aroma made her mouth water, and she savored the first bite.

  “Now I know why the parking lot’s full. This is wonderful.”

  Jake uttered an agreeable but unintelligible sound and raised the thumb of his left hand.

  Taylor was ravenous, and Jake ate as if he’d been stranded for days on a desert island with nothing but coconuts. They didn’t talk, and the silence allowed her time to form her thoughts into questions for Jake. When she finally pushed her plate away, all the rings and three-quarters of the burger were gone. Jake’s was empty except for ketchup smudges. He downed the last of his beer.

  She took another drink of hers. “What brought you to Rock Harbor?”

  “My company is looking for a few corporate condos in separate locations around the country. I remembered my visit here, did some checking to see how Rock Harbor had grown into the twenty-first century, and here I am.”

  “Great place for fishing and getting away from the hustle and bustle.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Have you found the perfect place?”

  “Maybe. I sent the details back to New York. I’m waiting to hear from different people, get some firm numbers, things like that. I’d like to wrap it up before I leave next weekend.”

  “That’s how you know Zia.”

  “She showed me around town.”

  I’ll just bet. Taylor would have bought into his story if he hadn’t started picking at the label on his beer bottle as they talked. Everything he told her was probably true simply because in this small a town she could check it out. But it probably wasn’t the full story.

  She finished her beer and was about to ask Jake about the last time he talked to Randy when he interrupted her thoughts.

  “Look at the back of my belt.”

  “What?”

  He held out his hand. “Hop down and look at the back of my belt.”

  She swung off her stool, knowing what she would see. But why had Jake brought his Solomon’s Compass belt along on a business trip? This was part of what he hadn’t told her about his visit to Rock Harbor.

  His yellow golf shirt was tucked neatly into his jeans. She had to move closer to read the almost smooth letters embossed across the old black leather. Jake’s scent filled her head, as the scent of Randy’s belt had. But the memories were totally different. She allowed them to linger for a moment.

  “Solomon’s Compass. Like Randy’s.”

  He turned and faced her. A blue stone, matching the ones on her watchband only larger, adorned the belt buckle framed by his hands.

  “The stone on Randy’s belt was in the center for the compass rose. Yours is on the bottom. Solomon. S for south.”

  “Yes. I didn’t know if you knew about his belt or not.”

  “Randy loved his belt. He always showed it to me, let me hold it. Because it was so special to him, I liked it, too. He took good care of it and only wore it on special occasions.”

  “I think all of us felt that way.”

  So lunch with her was a special occasion for Jake, too. “I want to show you what I found this morning, but I don’t want to show you here. Will you follow me to Randy’s?”

  Jake handed her his card. “Call my cell after you get there, and I’ll leave here and meet you then. We’re less likely to raise eyebrows if we leave separately.”

  Taylor sped back to Randy’s and into the kitchen.

  She removed the watch from her pocket and studied the band more closely. After seeing Jake’s belt, she was more convinced than ever the band came from Randy’s belt. The underside of the band was also black, but a closer inspection showed the color was different, as if someone had stained the leather with shoe polish or a black marker.

  No words or markings spoiled the surface. Her rush of adrenaline faded, and she frowned. As much as Randy loved his belt, she couldn’t believe he didn’t leave some sort of identifier to connect this small piece of leather to it.

  She laid the watch flat and examined the underside of the band with the mini-light on her key ring, but its beam didn’t make a difference. She saw nothing on the ends connected to the timepiece. The underside appeared as smooth as the outside. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers across the leather. The smooth, cool finish on the outer band didn’t carry over to the reverse. The under surface was rough and filled with tiny bumps and depressions.

  She carried it to Randy’s bedroom window. Bright sunlight streamed through, and she turned the band every which way. “Why can’t I figure this out?”

  After a minute or so of staring at the watch and band, turning them aimlessly in her hands and letting her mind wander, she placed the band on the sill and knelt to peer across it. The indentations her fingers had identified finally came into view, but they spread across the leather without a discernible pattern. Finding this much was a start. She scooped up the watch, returned to the kitchen, and laid it on the counter.

  For the past week, she’d stopped every morning to buy a cup of coffee. The clerk stuck two bags of sugar, one bag of artificial sweetener, and one container of liquid non-dairy creamer in the bag every time. She’d given up telling them she didn’t need the packets, and instead dumped them in the drawer next to the kitchen sink once she arrived at Randy’s. Now she plucked the sugar packets out and tossed them on the counter.

  She sprinkled the contents of three bags over the inside of the watchband. Then she tore off a length of gauze and used the ends like a feather to carefully brush away the excess sugar.

  The indentations were so faint they appeared to have been scratched in with a needle or a small nail. The sugar didn’t fill all of them, but it filled enough for her to read the words.

  Solomon’s Compass.

  Sweet.

  Three minutes later, Jake walked through Taylor’s door.

  A tingle spread outward from her belly. She licked her lips and hoped she didn’t appear as nervous over seeing him alone in Randy’s house as the tingle in her belly and her shaky legs said she was.

  “Got here as quick as I could. Didn’t want that smile to fade from Happy’s face.” He inclined his head at her tee.

  Taylor shook her head. “Any quicker and they’d call it time travel. Come on in.”

  Jake ran his palm over the smooth top of the kitchen table. “You did a good job cleaning. Randy would smile.”

  “I never thought I’d be here cleaning his house.” Or that someone might have kil
led him. Her voice cracked, and with no warning, tears stung her eyes. She tried to blink them away.

  Jake gathered her close. “We’re always shocked when life plays wicked jokes.”

  She sniffed. “Thanks. I’m not usually quite so wimpy, but Randy was about ninety percent of my entire family.”

  “You were a hundred and ten percent of his, so you made a good match.” He tilted her chin and gave her a searching look. “Better?”

  The steady beat of his heart and solid strength of his arms kept her from wailing like a baby. She nodded and took a few steps away.

  “He took great pride in you and your accomplishments, Taylor.”

  “He was the reason I joined the Coast Guard. I was proud of him, too.”

  “He knew you loved him.”

  She sniffed again. “Come look.” She led Jake to the counter.

  “What have we here?”

  “I think it’s part of Randy’s belt.”

  Jake bent over the watch. “Solomon’s Compass. What is this? Sugar?”

  “The belt was Randy’s baby. I looked through everything in the house. The belt wasn’t here. Neither were the photos he had of the Compass Points. If you’re finished looking at the back, shake that sugar out over the sink and turn the watch over.”

  Jake cupped the band in one large hand.

  “I believed he would mark the watch in some way if it was part of his belt. I was right. The words are barely there. I can’t imagine what he used to make them.”

  “Probably a pocket knife.”

  “Wouldn’t the cuts be deeper?”

  “Not necessarily. Consider how you score meat to cook. You can barely make an indention or slice completely through. Same with leather.” He rubbed his thumb over the edge of the band. “The leather is the same thickness as my belt. In my view, the carving wasn’t meant to be deep.”

  “Why would he go to the trouble of carving it halfway?”

  “To keep it safe for the only the person who knew what to look for and understood the meaning. For you.” His eyes searched hers, but she couldn’t read the question she saw in them. “No one else would even suspect the words were there. Even if someone discovered them, they wouldn’t make sense.”