Sandrift: A Lin Hanna Mystery

by Sharon Canipe

  Lin glanced at the list briefly as the waitress poured a glass of water and set her place with silverware. She really wasn’t hungry, but she needed an excuse to stay for a while and make conversation. She decided on a chef salad and coffee.

  She noticed a tall, heavy-set guy with a friendly demeanor talking with the fellows at the bar. That must be Tim, she thought, hoping she could find a way to talk to him.

  When the waitress returned with her food, she decided to ask her if she knew anything about Dorrie. Perhaps she had been working at night last week.

  “I’m wondering if you might have been working last week when Dorrie Johnson came in,” she asked, “she’s the girl who died from an allergic reaction last weekend, you may have heard about it. Her parents are friends of mine. I’m trying to help them find out more about what she was doing here, maybe get some sense of closure—it’s been very tough on them.”

  “I can imagine,” the waitress was sympathetic, “I read about all that in the paper, but I’ve never met her. I only work days. Tim was probably here.” She called the proprietor over.

  “Just a minute,” Tim responded. “He turned back to the men he was chatting with for a few moments and then made his way to Lin’s table.”

  Extending his hand he introduced himself, “I’m Tim, how can I help you?”

  Lin explained what she was trying to learn. Tim took it all in and then asked, “OK, if I sit down.”

  “Certainly,” Lin replied. “I was just about to get a refill on my coffee, anyway.”

  Tim signaled for the waitress to refill Lin’s mug and bring him one also. He settled himself in the booth opposite her. He could aptly be described as a “giant” of a man—tall and broad shouldered. From appearances, Lin would judge him to be a “gentle giant.” He had a very friendly demeanor and was very relaxed. I’ll bet he can be tough if the situation calls for it though, Lin thought.

  “This is a nice place you have here,” Lin smiled. “I was surprised when I walked in—everything looks new.”

  “Thanks,” Tim responded, “but it’s really not so new. I did renovations about five years ago but I try to keep the place maintained and looking nice. I’m hoping to do some work outside next spring, maybe add a porch for an outside eating area. That’s popular with the summer crowd.”

  The waitress arrived with the coffee and removed Lin’s half-eaten salad when she indicated she was through with it. She turned to Tim and explained her mission.

  “Yeah,” Tim responded, “Dorrie came in last week, I believe it might’ve been Wednesday or Thursday—not sure. She looked great; it was good to see her again.” He paused and his voice seemed to catch, “I couldn’t believe it when I heard she was dead, then all that stuff about her being the one who killed Liz, way back. Hard to take in. Must have her parents really tore up…”

  “They are upset,” Lin agreed, “that’s why I’m here. They’re looking for some answers as to what she might’ve been doing here before she died. One of the employees at the hotel where she was staying said she mentioned coming here to see some old friends.”

  “Yeah, we have a pretty good crowd of regulars in the bar at night, Dorrie remembered some of them. She used to be quite the party girl when she lived here before, but she behaved pretty good last week, only had one beer—far cry from the Dorrie I knew before.”

  “Did she know she was a suspect in Liz’s murder case?” Lin decided to try to get more information since Tim seemed comfortable talking with her.

  “Well, I think some of the guys here must have mentioned it to her. You know there were never any official charges or anything, just a lot of talk back then. No ‘wanted’ posters or such, but she seemed upset when she left here so I’m thinking someone mentioned it to her.”

  “Did she say anything about it to you, or anyone else?” Lin questioned.

  “Well, Mike Clark said she asked if Liz’s family was still here. Wanted to know where they lived and so forth. He thought she was planning to go see them. Maybe she wanted to talk to them, find out if they thought she was responsible for what happened to Liz. I can’t say for sure. All that stuff, it’s an old story so who knows what people think now.”

  “Apparently, Sheriff Midgett is pretty sure Dorrie was guilty,” Lin pressed further.

  “Pete’s a good man,” Tim replied. “We went to school together. He always does his best. He was just a deputy back then; I think it was his first real case and he told me everything pointed to Dorrie, but at the time I don’t think he had enough evidence to file charges. Apparently, he thinks it’s more clear cut now—at least that’s what the papers say.”

  “Well, I’m sure I don’t know,” Lin said. “I just know Dorrie’s parents need some sense of closure. It won’t bring Dorrie back to them, but they’d like to know what she was doing during her last days.”

  “I understand,” Tim replied. “I’d feel the same way if it were one of my kids. I hope you can find some answers for them.”

  “Is there anyone else you can think of I should talk to?” Lin asked.

  “Maybe Liz’s Mom and her sister,” Tim replied. “I don’t know if Dorrie ever got to see them or not.”

  “How do I find them?” Lin asked.

  Tim gave her some directions and invited her to come back sometime for dinner. “We have some really good barbeque,” he offered. “If you come back some evening you might be able to talk to some of the other regulars. Dorrie might have talked to some of them about her plans.”

  “Maybe, I will,” Lin smiled. “I love good barbeque and I have a friend who really ought to try it. Thanks Tim, you’ve been very helpful.”

  “Anytime,” the genial man responded. “Dorrie was a good kid, she just got herself turned all crosswise when she was younger. Got off on the wrong path at first.”

  “Do you think she had anything to do with Liz’s death?” Lin decided to risk asking.

  Tim was thoughtful, hesitating before answering, “Not really,” he finally replied, “but then it’s hard to say. Dorrie was into some pretty heavy drinking back then, some drugs too, I think. Some people do things when they’re all messed up that they wouldn’t generally do…”

  Lin nodded her understanding and placed money for her meal on the table, including a generous tip for her waitress.

  “Thanks, again Tim, I’ll be back for that barbeque,” she smiled as she exited.

  It was after noon, and Lin wasn’t sure what to do next. Should she try to locate Liz’s family or should she go back home for a while to check on Sparky, maybe go out again later in the day? She was still sitting in her car thinking when her cell phone rang. It was Tom Miller.

  “Where are you and what are you doing?” Tom was very direct.

  “I’m just leaving Tim’s Bar and Grill,” Lin responded.

  “Well, how ‘bout you meet me for coffee somewhere. I’ve found some interesting things this morning.”

  Lin remembered that Tom was looking into the story of Liz Frazier’s murder, and a possible connection to some jewelry she might’ve scavenged from wreckage she found on shore. Interesting, but not directly related to her current mission. Nevertheless, it was probably a good story, and Lin didn’t wish to put off the older gentleman. She agreed to meet him at the Starbucks back up in Southern Shores. According to the directions she’d been given, Liz Frazier’s Mom lived somewhere south of that point but still north of Kate’s neighborhood. She could try to see her on her way home after seeing Tom. Sparky would be fine and she should still make it back before four.

  Tom Miller was already there when Lin arrived, seated at a small table near the back of the shop. A map and folder were placed in front of him. Lin decided on a cup of iced passion tea, she’d already had enough caffeine for one day, and joined Tom.

  Tom didn’t waste time; he opened the folder and began to pull out various news articles and pages of notes. Some of the newspaper pieces were yellow with age. “I know I should have all these scanned,” Tom observe
d. “I’m trying to catch up with the digital age, but that’s hard to do when you’re past eighty.” There was a sparkle in his eye. “ Nevertheless, I’ve found something that might fit Liz Frazier’s story.”

  “I’m not totally without computer skills,” he offered with a wink, “I did locate and print a couple of stories that appeared in the local paper at the time of Liz’s death.” He pushed a couple of sheets toward Lin. She read them quickly, noting that Tom had highlighted references to Liz’s telling friends and family members that she had found a set of jewelry she thought was valuable—apparently a ring, pendant, and some earrings. It seemed that only Liz’s family and the owner of the Island Pawn shop, Billy Thornton, reported actually seeing any jewelry, however. Others questioned the reality of the find.

  “Apparently, Liz claimed to have found the items in the sand near some timbers of a wrecked vessel that were uncovered near Hatteras Point during a storm in early November that year, 2000 it was.” Tom continued. “ I can confirm from earlier research that there was indeed such a storm and lots of drifting sand as a result. It’s not a stretch to assume that there was some evidence of a wreck uncovered at that time. The location was Hatteras Point and that suggested to me that it would’ve most likely been a smaller vessel, possibly a personal yacht. It could’ve run aground at some time during a storm years earlier, possibly while trying to reach calmer waters in the sound.”

  Despite thinking that this story wasn’t really important to her search for information about Dorrie, Lin began to be fascinated by this tale. No wonder Tom enjoyed doing this kind of research. There was so much history here, so many people impacted in so many ways. She refocused her attention on what Tom was saying.

  “ These facts led me to research smaller vessels that might’ve been reported as wrecked in the Hatteras Point area. Actually, there were lots of them, but most were fishing trawlers or small cargo vessels that would’ve been unlikely to have passengers, certainly not passengers with valuable jewelry,” he explained.

  “I did, however, come across one story that might support such a find.” He pulled out a yellowed newspaper account. “In 1925 a wealthy New York family apparently ran their yacht, aptly named Sandrift, aground just offshore of Hatteras Point. They were traveling to Florida, along the coast and an early-season Nor’easter caught up with them. They were, indeed, trying to reach calmer waters by moving to the sound side when they hit a shoal just offshore and grounded their vessel.” He handed Lin the weathered bit of newspaper. “According to this, they were rescued, but the storm prevented removing any of their personal belongings. Those were all lost.”

  Tom continued, “As I was saying earlier, the nature of these islands, the way the sands shift and the shoreline moves over time, can cause wrecks offshore to eventually be uncovered on a beach. Perhaps that’s what happened here.”

  “Would the wreck still be there?” Lin asked.

  “It could be, but I don’t know of any timbers currently visible in that area. Most likely it was covered again or drifted offshore during a subsequent storm. It happens a lot along this coast. Some wrecks remain visible for years, others vanish again.”

  “This is very interesting Tom, no wonder you enjoy your work,” Lin smiled.

  “It’s more fun for me than work—especially now that I’m retired from teaching. I can spend my time pursuing my favorite interests. Thank you for taking the time to listen.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Lin responded. “I enjoy learning new things.”

  “Keep this article, if you like,” Tom offered. “I really do need to stop collecting so much of this stuff in paper form. Just be for my family to deal with when I’m gone,” he teased.

  Lin had a passing thought that the news article might provide an opening for talking with Liz’s family. They might be interested to learn that there was possible truth to her story that the jewelry she showed them was indeed valuable. “I’ll keep it, thanks,” Lin said. “Maybe, I’ll copy it and then return the original.”

  “Don’t bother,” Tom said, “I’m more focused now on vessels that were sunk during World War II. Doubt I’ll be pursuing information about wrecked yachts anytime soon. I found this in an old folder of miscellaneous items I collected years ago and saved in case they might prove useful later.”

  Tom gathered his papers and prepared to leave the coffee shop, asking Lin to tell Neal he’d not forgotten about their plans to visit some historical spots together. “Tell him I’ll call sometime soon and we can make some plans.”

  Lin followed Tom outside, stopping at her car to check the time. She still had more than an hour before she needed to be home. Plenty of time to try to locate Liz’s family, especially since it was on her way. She tucked the address she’d been given on the console where she could easily check it.

  The house wasn’t difficult to locate; it was on a dirt road about half a mile back from the highway on the west side of the island. Lin managed to avoid the deeper sand along the edges, wishing a couple of times she had taken Kate’s Jeep that morning and let Neal drive her car. The Frazier home was a small cinderblock dwelling with a wooden porch across the front. There was an older car in the driveway. An old pick up truck that had obviously not been driven in years decorated the side yard; weeds had grown up almost to the top of the wheel wells. Lin saw a light in the front window indicating someone must be at home. She climbed the rickety steps to the porch and was just about to knock on the door when it opened.

  A small gray-haired woman in a calico housedress covered with a white apron stared at her from behind old-fashioned wire-rimmed spectacles. “If you’re collecting for anything, I’m not interested. Don’t want to buy nothin’ either,” she began to push the door shut.

  Lin spoke quickly, “Mrs. Frazier, I’m not collecting or selling, and I promise not to keep you long from your work, but I need to ask you if Dorrie Johnson came to see you last week.”

  The woman looked thoughtful and seemed to decide that she could spare a minute. She stepped out on the porch and closed the door behind her. “My daughter’s asleep, she has to work tonight, but I guess we could talk out here. I just have a minute though.” She indicated that Lin should sit in one of two rocking chairs that had seen better days.

  “Thanks,” Lin said. “I promise I won’t be long. I need to get home myself. By the way,” she handed Mrs. Frazier the yellowed clipping Tom had given her, “a friend of mine found this story about a shipwreck. He thought it might have been the one where your daughter Liz found some jewelry. I thought you might find it interesting.”

  Mrs. Frazier refused to take the clipping. “That was bad business from the start. Liz thought she’d found something worthwhile, something she could use to get money, better herself, but all it got her was a fiery grave.” Her voice caught on her last words. Lin realized that Liz’s death was still a source of pain for her and wished she hadn’t brought it up. She quickly withdrew the paper and placed it in her bag. She feared that Mrs. Frazier wouldn’t talk to her at all now. The two of them sat in silence for a moment.

  Finally, Mrs. Frazier spoke, “Seems everything is reminding me of Liz these days; you asked about Dorrie. She did come by last week—I think it was Thursday. Yes, that’s right. I get my hair done every Thursday morning, and she came by just after I got home. I was sure surprised to see her after all these years. You know they always said she killed Liz, but I never did believe that—still don’t.” Mrs. Frazier was insistent on this point. “Fact is, Dorrie didn’t even know Liz was dead before last week. Somebody over at Tim’s Bar told her. Told her Liz was murdered and the Sheriff thought she did it. I could tell she was shocked to hear it—kept asking me over and over to believe she didn’t do that.”

  “ You said you never did think she did it, though. What made you so sure she was innocent?” Lin asked.

  “ I’m not sure, just a feelin’ I guess. Dorrie was a sweet kid when she first came here—all mixed up and wild-acting sometimes but still, a sweet
kid. She was all tore up about Liz—sat right where you are and cried. If she’d been guilty, I don’t think she woulda come here. She woulda high-tailed it outta here if she thought the Sheriff was lookin’ for her, don’t you think?”

  Lin had to agree. If Dorrie only learned that Liz was dead when she asked about her at the bar, then it made sense to try to see her family. A guilty person would surely have left the area before authorities learned she was back. At least that seemed to make sense.

  “Did Dorrie have anything else to say to you?” Lin carefully explained that she was a friend of Dorrie’s parents and they were trying to find out what she was doing in her last few days. “They’re just trying to find some understanding and closure. It’s been so shocking for them.”

  “I know just how they feel,” Mrs. Frazier said and Lin could only nod agreement. “Connie, my other daughter, told me that Dorrie was found dead last weekend—bee sting, she said. I could hardly believe it.” She continued rocking and Lin noticed a tear trickling down her cheek.

  “Well, you can tell Dorrie’s folks that she was here for a good purpose,” Mrs. Frazier continued as she rocked back and forth, “She told me she came lookin’ for Liz because she had skipped out owing her rent money all those years ago. She came to pay her back, to make things right. Dorrie gave me five hundred dollars. I tried to talk her out of it, wasn’t my money, anyway; she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Made me take it. She said it rightfully belonged to Liz so now it rightfully belonged to me. You tell her folks that, OK?”

  “I will, Mrs. Frazier, and thank you for sharing that.” Lin gave Mrs. Frazier her cell phone number, “If you think of anything else I ought to share with the Johnsons please give me a call. I’m house sitting for a friend so I’ll be here for the next few weeks.”