“Hey, watch the road.”
“We wanted a gimmick to tie our businesses together in some way when we moved to the new spaces a couple of years ago.”
She combed her fingers through her hair, happy to have learned the answer to the riddle.
Dan turned onto Church Street. “You’re Coast Guard. Of course you’d notice. Before we moved to Zia’s block, Julie was in town, but in another location, as Julie’s Tearoom. Mike was in a strip center up near the airport. He’s always been Mike’s Golf Shop, so that’s what gave us the idea. My gallery-slash-chintz shop was called Dan’s Designs, and it was in a different strip center.”
“You’re so funny. Especially since I’ve seen how you live.”
He flashed a grin. “Every once in a while, someone asks one of us about the names. Or the flags. Not often.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“You can ask me anything, Taylor. I told you, we’re kindred spirits.”
She was coming to believe him.
A few minutes later, Taylor stepped into a contemporary version of a tea room. Small tables covered with white tablecloths were set with cobalt chargers and white luncheon plates topped with starched yellow napkins. Hung on the lemon wall facing the entrance was a large Juliet flag—wide blue bars at top and bottom, white in the center. A vessel traveling with a raised Juliet flag meant it was on fire and carrying dangerous cargo.
The hostess settled them at a table by a window. Dan leaned across. “What do you think?”
“Lovely. Much better than tea cozies and ribbon.”
He laughed. “Julie will be pleased. She’s not the ruffles and bows type either. I’d introduce you, but she’s at the dentist.”
“Another time.” Taylor looked at the menu. The selections echoed the Juliet flag—on fire and dangerous cargo. Among the choices were Shrimp Salad Diablo and Buffalo Chicken Salad. “I love it.”
“All Julie’s customers do. Everything comes mild, spicy, or with a sexy firefighter. Even the PB&J sandwich. Julie makes her own jalapeño jelly.”
The waitress came to take their order, and Taylor chose the shrimp salad, spicy version. Dan ordered Cayenne Rubbed Ribeye.
“Doesn’t that scorch your throat?”
“I’ll give you a bite—four ounces of rare ribeye, sliced extra thin, and served over arugula with her special chipotle vinaigrette. To. Die. For.”
“Yummy. I’ll trade you a shrimp. When I get back to Charleston, I may try making the steak myself.”
“You won’t be sorry. She won’t say what she puts in the rub besides cayenne. Maybe you can tell by the taste.”
“If I were her I wouldn’t reveal the ingredients either. You’re not the best at keeping secrets. You’d tell me, and then her secret wouldn’t be special anymore.”
“You’re right about that. She’s smarter than I am.”
Jake’s phone rang as soon as he hung up with Taylor.
“Hey, Kelly. Got good news for me?”
“Yes, for once. Dad is out of ICU and will probably go home tomorrow. Mom said the doctors were hopeful about his latest MRI. I won’t be able to access the reports until tomorrow after the hospital uploads overnight.”
“All right! He’s a fighter.”
“So is Mom. They had a mini love-fest for a few minutes in his room. I could feel the positive energy flowing between them. It was that strong.”
“I believe it.”
“Then Dad called food services and asked for enough food to feed the floor.”
“Life is good, Kelly Jane. Dad’s back in charge.”
“That’s what Mom said. And don’t call me Kelly Jane.”
Jake wished he’d been there to share in their happy moment, but if he had, he would’ve missed out on meeting Taylor. Kelly could handle things back in New York just fine.
“Oh, in the excitement, I almost forgot. You asked me to check the names for Denver connections.”
“Who hit?”
“Nate Brady. Some kind of cattlemen’s convention last spring. He was registered, and he paid for his room with his American Express card. I also found him on security camera archives. So far I haven’t found anyone else connected to Denver or the convention, but I’m still searching. Brady’s quacking like a duck.”
“Waddles like one, too. See if you can find any link between him and Dad.”
“I’m on it.” She hung up.
Jake continued to the police department. Upchurch waited out front and wasted no time climbing in out of the heat. “Hot enough for you out there?”
The detective snorted as he buckled up.
“Lulu’s work for you?”
Upchurch patted his stomach. “Can’t you tell?”
Lulu greeted them when they walked through the door, and they moved to a back booth. The television was tuned to a news channel with captions, and Carmen played in the background. A fair amount of customers filled the booths and tables, but it wasn’t packed.
After Lulu took their orders, Upchurch got down to business. “You know I don’t condone your methods.”
Jake shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not a peace officer.”
“The man still has rights.”
This was why his dad didn’t like dealing with law enforcement any more than necessary. He laced his fingers on the table and leaned forward. “Taylor Campbell? Will Knox? What about their rights?”
Upchurch rubbed his cheek with his knuckles. “I have to toe the line. That still goes if Abbott files a complaint against you.”
“Nothing I did violated his rights in any way.” Except being a hair away from breaking his wrist. “He chose to believe my words. Putting the fear of God into a suspect is part of my job description.”
“No matter the consequences?”
“My obligation is to our client. I’m damned good at my job, by the way.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment. Like I told you yesterday, your firm has a sterling reputation. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here with you. All the same, I have my rules the same as you have yours.”
Lulu arrived with their drinks. Jake opened his beer.
Upchurch raised his brow and held up his glass. “Truce?”
“Truce.” After a quick swallow, Jake spoke first. “What did you find out about Brady?”
“I went out to his place yesterday. No one was home. I walked out to the dock and checked the boat. It was locked down. No spent casings. No way to tell if it had been out.”
Jake hadn’t expected any different. The boat had been in the area, but he wouldn’t share the knowledge with Upchurch until Kelly learned if there was a connection between Brady and their dad. “Had the neighbors seen him?”
“I talked with three. One had, one hadn’t, and one wasn’t sure if he saw him Saturday or Sunday.”
Jake stayed silent and picked at the Bud label.
“No one I talked to knew if he took the boat out, but they wouldn’t unless they were outside and watching. Zia Markham was showing a house next door. She said a red truck had been in the driveway when she arrived, but she was busy opening the property and making sure everything was in order. Her clients confirmed the truck was there when they arrived. The wife said she noticed it because it was bright red.”
“Let me guess. You never made contact with Brady.”
“No. He flies his own plane here. It’s at the airport. We’re looking for him—”
“Person of interest?”
“Not yet. Possible witness. We don’t want to spook him.”
It would do for a start.
Returning from lunch, Taylor flinched at the sight of the peanut can, buckle, and shirt on the counter—even though she knew they were there. Jake hadn’t called her and Dan was still outside chatting with A.J.
She would make the call about the shirt. It wouldn’t hurt, even if she duplicated Jake’s efforts. The woman at the Chamber of Commerce gave her the name and phone number of the man who organized the tournament, but she ha
d to leave a voicemail. Story of her life these days.
Dan rushed through the door. “Okay, I’m ready to finish this.”
“I hear you. I’m looking forward to a bit of tourist time.”
For several minutes, they worked in silence.
“Hey, Taylor.” Dan’s muffled voice came from under the next table where he pulled on a small trawl net. “This net is caught under here.”
“I’ll lift a corner of the table.”
“Won’t work. The net’s knotted up in the middle, not near a leg. I thought I could free it, but I need to move gear out until I find what’s holding it.” He shoved a Coleman stove into the aisle, followed by a life ring and a box of romance novels.
“That get it?” Taylor pushed the items down the row.
“No.”
“I’ll work from the other side.”
“Found it.”
A heavy object scraped the floor, and the sounds Dan made could’ve come from a bull elephant.
“What the hell is it?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
Dan reappeared feet first, pulling the item across the floor.
“A brass bitt.” She dropped to her knees and helped him pull. “This is old. They don’t make them like this anymore. Newer ones are more angular and less massive.”
The bitt could be a hundred years old, but probably not. More likely it came off a World War II-era ship. She hadn’t seen one in years, except in books. Five equally spaced bolt holes cut through the ten-inch circular base. The bollard was five inches in diameter and stood a foot tall. Two arms extended outward at a one-eighty for eighteen inches across the top. The solid brass was in dire need of polishing, but she couldn’t keep her hands off the mottled patina.
“Does it go on a pier?” Dan ran a finger along the top surface, scowled, and turned his finger over to see if the green came off.
“No. On a ship, bolted to the deck. Whatever ship it belonged to was scrapped a long time ago. This is mine.” A smile spread across her face.
“What on earth will you use it for?”
She shrugged.
“You’re smiling, Taylor. Give.”
“Decoration. Or on my patio to prop my feet on. Will you help me move it inside the house? Who knows . . . maybe it came from an old Coast Guard cutter.”
“Of course I’ll help you.” He dusted it with the edge of the trawl net.
Less than two hours later, they deposited the last of the trash in the bin and walked back to the salvage shop. Taylor gave a whoop, her waving arm sending a kayak paddle clunking into a metal lamp base. “Can you believe we’re finally finished?”
“I’ll admit it’s been a project. But worth every drop of sweat and every blister.”
She rubbed the smooth leather of the watchband at her elbow. “I agree.”
“Come over here. I want to tell you a story, and sitting sounds really good.”
They plopped down on two canvas camp stools.
“Remember way back on Tuesday when I kept insisting you let me help you?”
Taylor snickered. “All the way back to last week? I seem to recall you begging.”
“I wanted to help you because I understood what you were going through. How you feel losing your uncle. How it is going through his things. His life. But I also wanted to help myself. So it worked out for both of us.”
Taylor covered Dan’s hand with hers. He must have recently lost one of his parents. “Losing someone you love is hard. I don’t think people know how hard it is until it happens to them. I’m so happy you convinced me to let you help. I would still be working in Randy’s house.”
Dan chuckled. “I can be pushy.”
“It all worked out.”
“Yes, it did. What I want to tell you is I learned how hard death is in high school.”
Taylor frowned. Dan was fidgeting and gnawing at his lower lip.
“Julie and I grew up in Houston. We had an older brother, Stewart. I was in high school, Julie in junior high. Stewart had been to college and dropped out to work construction. To make some money before he went back. Housing was booming.”
Dan paused. His eyes looked far away and pain filled his face. His lips trembled. Finally he sighed and went on. “I walked in after school and Stewart stood in the middle of the living room holding Dad’s gun.”
“Oh, no.” Taylor’s fingers tightened on Dan’s hand. His brother must have killed himself.
“I asked Stewart what was going on. He said he and a new guy got into a fight on the job site.”
“What happened? I can’t imagine anyone related to you getting into a fight.”
“Stewart could handle himself, but he wasn’t an instigator. The guy accused him of stealing his tools. Stewart wasn’t a thief.”
A knot formed in Taylor’s stomach. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”
“Stewart had a black eye and bruised knuckles. We didn’t hear the full story until later. Mom and Dad were both at work. Stewart told me to leave. Actually he pushed me out the door and locked it. I ran to find Julie so she wouldn’t go home.”
Taylor couldn’t imagine dealing with such a horrible experience in high school. “I hope you found her.”
“Two blocks away. We went to a neighbor’s and called Dad.”
“Good.”
“When I hung up, Mrs. Light, our neighbor, called the police. While she was on the phone, a tricked-out car pulled up and three men got out. The shots came while she was on the phone.”
“No.” The betrayal and anger Taylor had felt at Randy’s death returned as if they’d never left. She shook her head.
Dan took a deep breath. “Julie got the plate number when they drove off. Dad and the police arrived about the same time. She gave the number to the police, and they stopped the car before the men ever got out of town.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He patted her hand. “One man was killed in prison, one died in a jailbreak, and the third was wanted for two murders in Arizona. Last I heard he’s in prison there. Life with no parole.”
“I’m so sorry, Dan. How awful!”
Dan gave her a clipped nod. “Stewart died right away. His boss said the guy was bragging about getting rid of Stewart, and he recommended one of his buddies to take his place. The boss fired him on the spot. That’s when they came looking for Stewart. We never knew who told them where we lived. Stewart’s boss got there about the same time the police did. Stewart never fired Dad’s gun.”
Dan had tears in his eyes, and Taylor fought against the burning in hers. She wrapped her arms around him.
After a couple of minutes Taylor straightened. “You’ll always be my friend. We are kindred spirits.”
More than he knew.
Jake drove Upchurch back to the police station. Among other things, he learned he wouldn’t want to face Upchurch on the other end of a gun. Or across a poker table.
“Make the block around the building.” Upchurch pulled at his ear.
“Reconnoitering?”
“Old habit.”
Jake laughed. “Right. You know what they say about old habits.”
“Yeah. They’re worn by old nuns. My name’s Upchurch. I get away with telling jokes like that.”
“Someone should have put a stop to that a long time ago. Old habits will get you killed.”
The detective’s sunglasses hid his eyes, but it was Jake’s best guess they hadn’t flashed a smile. Except for the slight side-to-side motion of his head, Upchurch didn’t move. A man on the hunt. At some point in his career, Upchurch had been surprised or ambushed right at his own nest, and he didn’t intend for it to happen again.
On the sidewalk in front of the station, Upchurch lowered his sunglasses and gave Jake a hard stare. “You didn’t hear this from me.”
Jake barely inclined his head in acknowledgment. Upchurch had decided to trust him.
“Brady and Ms. Markham had a lot of extracurricular activity going on bet
ween them once upon a time.”
Jake forced himself to copy Upchurch’s deadpan face to not give away he already had the knowledge. He counted through his breathing, thankful his mouth hadn’t fallen open of its own accord. No law enforcement officer had ever shared case-related material with him before.
“A couple years ago, word got around they were kaput. I don’t know if they still are or not.”
—four, five, exhale.
“I didn’t press her on Brady. Timing wasn’t appropriate with her clients present. You might find her approachable for more, under different circumstances.” He stood up. “Have a good day, now.”
“Thanks.” Approachable. Jake liked the word.
It was Upchurch’s turn to nod. He closed the door and entered the building.
Jake pulled away from the curb and drove to Zia’s office while his mind wove random thoughts into a plan.
The receptionist looked up from a magazine. “May I help you?”
“Zia Markham please.”
“I’m sorry. She’s out for the rest of the afternoon. Do you want to leave a message?”
Jake handed her a card from his wallet. “I’ll try to reach her, but if I’m not successful, please tell her I’d like to talk about the condo space she showed me last week.”
Back in his car, he sat for a minute or two staring at nothing. Then he pulled out his phone and called Kelly.
“I was ninety seconds from calling you.”
Jake grabbed his pad and pencil. “Shoot.”
“Remember those Navy flags in town?”
“The signal flags.”
“Right. I gave you the owners of those four places.”
“Yes.”
“Dan Blair and Julie Quitman are siblings.”
“Ah, a family marker. The flags are probably their own insider code.” When he talked with Taylor, he’d give her the news so she could cross that mystery off her list.
“I found out who owns Elements.” Jake watched a seagull swoop in for a scrap of ice cream cone on the sidewalk.
“You told me it was a Delaware corporation. Did you uncover the principals?”
“The corporation is called B-J-Q. That’s the letters B for boy, a dash, J for joy, a dash, and Q for—”
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