She finally brought it up to the front, her cinnamon-colored brows knit together, very red lips determined in her pink face. “This one doesn’t have a price on it. I realize that means it’s more expensive, but I’m prepared to haggle.”
That was a little different than what I’d come to expect. Usually, my special shoppers paid whatever I asked for the treasure, no questions. We eyed each other like opponents before a prize fight. I came out swinging first, with a price in mind.
Her blue eyes widened comically. “That’s outrageous! I’ll give you half that.”
I could see she really wanted it. More important, she knew what it was. “You won’t get a jelly jar actually used by Mrs. Roosevelt while she was staying here in Duck for any less than I’m asking.”
“I’ve seen one or two for half of what you’re asking.”
Hmm. She wasn’t very good at haggling. “I’ll tell you what. You can have the jelly jar and the butter keeper that goes with it for my original price.”
“Deal!” She put out her heavily ringed hand to shake mine and we sealed the agreement. “Wait until the girls back home see this! Of course, I’ll have to add it to my will.”
Will! Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Miss Elizabeth had a last will and testament, but Miss Mildred wasn’t dead. The only legal document that could give someone the power to sell her property would be a power of attorney. If Miss Mildred knew Silas was still alive, she probably had put that in his name in the event of Elizabeth’s death. That meant Jerry Richards could sell the property if he had access to that document. He’d be fine as long as no one questioned it.
The customer wrote me a check, and I wrapped her items carefully. We parted ways congenially, both of us satisfied with the transaction. Two more customers came in behind her and bought some souvenir items. Mary Lou followed after them with some Turtle Rescue Day flyers to put up in the shop window.
“I hope you’ll be there, Dae, and that you’ll pass the word.” She took my tape dispenser and hung up several flyers in the windows and around the store. “This is an important opportunity for fund-raising and education. Thousands of baby sea turtles are lost every year, you know. We have to protect them.”
I’d heard it so many times already, it had lost some value for me. I knew the turtles were important, but Mary Lou was a little too focused on the subject. “I’ll try my best to be there,” I promised. As mayor, it was the least I could do.
“I’m so disappointed, really. You know, Millie promised part of her beachfront would be made into a turtle sanctuary when she passed. I wish I could hold her to that promise now.”
“She hasn’t passed yet,” I replied, thinking about the auction coming up Wednesday. If what Mary Lou said was true, it seemed even more possible there was a missing document that could shut down the whole property sale. A written promise to donate land to the Turtle Rescue League was enough to take to court.
“No, but she might as well have. I haven’t heard anything from her lawyer about the land. Her promise might as well not exist.” Her mouth made a disapproving frown that marred her otherwise smooth complexion. She was really a very pretty woman still, and I guess Gramps saw that, as well as her ability to play a mean game of pinochle.
“I’m sure she meant well,” I said soothingly. “Who’s her lawyer?”
“Oh, I don’t know that she had one. I suppose if she did it would’ve been old Bunk Whitley. But I don’t think he’s living, so I don’t know. I’d love to stay and chat, Dae, but I have to get around town with these flyers. I’ll see you Wednesday, if not before.”
It was nearly noon when I looked at the teapot clock. Mary Lou left only moments before Kevin got there. Gramps followed him in the door. “We need to talk,” Gramps said with a serious frown on his face.
“Let me close up and we can go eat lunch.” I shut off the lights and put up the “Closed” sign. “I’m starving. And I have plenty to tell you both.”
Hoping not to run into Shayla or Trudy, I chose to have lunch at Wild Stallions on the boardwalk. Normally, I wouldn’t care if they were around, but time was running short on solutions for Miss Mildred. I didn’t want to have to catch them up on everything.
We went into the dark bar and grill. Cody and Reece took our orders right away. We talked about Cody’s new son for a few minutes. He was a big boy, eight pounds and four ounces. His name was Zak. Cody planned to name a burger after him.
“So what do you have for us?” I asked Gramps when Cody and Reece were gone.
“I went to see Olivia this morning. We had a nice breakfast at that new pancake house they built in Manteo. Anyway, she knew about OBX Land Trust, LLC. Turns out the owner is Silas’ grandson. You won’t believe who that is.”
“Jerry Richards.” Kevin and I said at the same time. Gramps sat back with a scowl after we spoiled his news.
I told him about my encounter with Chuck that morning. “This has to be at the heart of why Miss Elizabeth was killed. But Chief Michaels said Jerry has an alibi for the night she died.”
“What else did the chief have to say?” Kevin asked.
“I hope you didn’t try to confront him, Dae,” Gramps added.
“It kind of slipped out. I really didn’t plan to upset him.” I explained everything the chief had said to me.
“Richards showed up at the courthouse while my SBI friend was there,” Kevin said. “He overheard him asking about a power of attorney document for Miss Mildred. He wanted to know if she’d ever had one filed with the county. Without one stating her intentions, he can take her estate. He’s technically next of kin.”
“That’s funny because I was thinking the same thing this morning,” I said. “What did they tell him?”
“They couldn’t find one for her. There was a will for Miss Elizabeth. My friend checked on it. It left everything to Miss Mildred, like everyone speculated. There’s no help there.”
“Maybe Miss Mildred’s will is at her house, if she has one.” I looked up and thanked Cody as he brought our lunch to the table.
Before Kevin had a chance to tell us anything more, Luke Helms joined us. He slid in the booth beside Kevin with an easygoing nod, wondering if he could buy us lunch. “I’ve had a strange morning, and I’m hoping you guys can help me out. It’s about Mrs. Harcourt and some kind of turtle-saving effort.”
“I heard about that,” I said. “She put up flyers in my shop. What does she want you to do?”
“She wants me to have Mrs. Mason sign a legal document that leaves everything to the turtle charity.” Luke thanked Cody, who’d brought over a Coke for him. “I talked to Mrs. Mason about it after the incompetency ruling. She said she has a power of attorney document, but she said she doesn’t know where it is.”
“What about her lawyer?” I asked. When Luke raised his ginger-colored eyebrows, I clarified, “The lawyer who drew up the will.”
“That would probably be Bunk Whitley.” Gramps nodded. “Old Bunk was the only lawyer in Duck for a long time.”
“Not him again,” Kevin muttered. “Don’t tell me he not only vanished mysteriously but took everyone’s legal documents with him.”
Luke sipped his Coke. “I don’t know anything about Bunk Whitley, but there should be a copy of the power of attorney filed at the courthouse.”
Gramps shook his head. “That horse don’t run. Jerry Richards was already there looking for it. Apparently Bunk did his usual slipshod job and forgot to file it.”
“But even if it wasn’t filed officially, wouldn’t it still be legal if there’s a copy of it at Miss Mildred’s house?” I asked.
“It could be.” Luke ordered a burger and sat back. “I guess I came to the right place. You know everything that’s going on, Dae.”
“That’s why we made her the mayor.” Gramps laughed. “It was either that or the editor of the Duck Gazette, but that closed down ten years ago. Not enough local news to fill a newsletter much less a newspaper.”
Kevin was quiet e
ven before his sandwich got to the table. I wondered if he didn’t want to include Luke in the discussion about what he’d found. I didn’t press the issue in case that was true. I ate my sandwich and fries, and listened to Gramps and Luke talk about a small brush fire they’d put out in Southern Shores last week. I could always ask Kevin later what he’d found, if anything.
As the meal was winding down, Gramps nudged me and said to Luke, “You should take Dae up to see Millie. She could find the power of attorney without us ransacking the house. It would save us all some time.”
Having grown up with everyone in town asking me to help them find their lost things, I wasn’t exactly shy about my abilities. But the look on Luke’s face, as Gramps explained what I could do and how I could do it, was strong disbelief.
“You’re kidding, right?” Luke looked at all of us with a grin on his face, waiting for the punch line. “Come on, Kevin, you aren’t from here, and the FBI doesn’t fool around. You don’t believe Dae can find things with her mind, do you?”
Kevin polished off his drink and nodded. “She already proved it to me.” He told him about the hidden key. “You can’t argue with that kind of success.”
Luke stared at me for a long moment. “No one can really do something like that,” he argued. “Not Dae. Not anyone.”
“Try something,” Gramps said, encouraging him. “Go ahead. It’s okay. Dae has found things for most of the people who live here. I’m sure she could find something you’ve lost.”
“How does it work?” Luke smiled and whistled the opening to the Twilight Zone theme. “Do I wait for her to go into a trance or something? Does she have to be possessed?”
“She’s sitting right here and doesn’t appreciate being treated like she’s invisible,” I told him. “There’s nothing to it. Give me your hands and think about something important you’ve lost.”
He started to reach his hands toward me, then pulled them back and looked at his watch. “You know, I have to run. Maybe next time we can scrounge up a Ouija board or something.” He grinned and threw down some money for lunch. “I’ll see you later.”
“Well, that was unpleasant,” Gramps said when Luke was gone. “I don’t understand what his problem is. If she couldn’t do it, nothing would happen. If she could, he would’ve found what he’s lost.”
“She’s still here,” I repeated. “Why is everyone talking about me like I’m not here?”
“Not me,” Kevin chimed in. “I was waiting for Luke to take off before I told you what else I found out today.”
I leaned forward a little to whisper, “Don’t you trust him?”
He leaned forward too until our faces were close together. “I never trust lawyers.”
“If you two are done flirting”—Gramps smiled, then cleared his throat—“I’d like to hear what Kevin found out this morning before someone else joins us for lunch.”
I ignored the flirting part of his remark and hoped that Kevin would too. I sipped some water and waited to hear what he didn’t want to say in front of Luke.
“There were bloody gloves in Miss Elizabeth’s purse. I guess something like gardening gloves. The police and SBI think they go with the garden shovel. They think Miss Mildred was trying to hide them before she had her breakdown. They say she couldn’t deal with it. They believe the blood on those gloves belonged to Miss Elizabeth. The chief was right when he told you the case was all but closed.”
It wasn’t as if I didn’t know about the gloves in the purse. I’d seen them before anyone. But the whole idea bothered me. It all fit together so neatly, crushing Miss Mildred with its perfection. One part bothered me more than the rest. I explained my doubts to Gramps and Kevin. “All of that makes sense, I guess, except for the part about the gloves. You know yourself, Gramps, Miss Mildred has hands like sandpaper. She’s never worn garden gloves.”
“Maybe not,” Kevin said. “But that’s a small detail compared to the whole picture. I’m sure you would’ve picked her up on the strength of this evidence too, Horace. I know I would’ve considered myself lucky to get all of this together.”
“I agree.” Gramps stroked his white beard. “But Dae makes a good point. If you would’ve told me there was a pair of white church gloves in that purse, I would’ve gone along with that. But Millie has the roughest hands in the county and proud of it.”
“I think what Kevin is saying is that it’s not enough to force Chief Michaels or the SBI into looking at this crime from another angle.” I glanced at Kevin. “Right?”
“Yeah. The SBI is looking at Wild Johnny’s death now. They’re done with Miss Elizabeth.”
Gramps laughed. “You know, I was the sheriff for a long time in this county. When it doesn’t involve you personally, you can think whatever is necessary to get a conviction. Knowing Millie the way I do, I can’t believe anyone would think she could kill Lizzie.”
“And yet the chief seems to think so,” I reminded him.
“He’s doing his job, Dae,” Gramps argued. “You don’t know what that’s like.”
“Except it sounds like the chief might be doing his job a little too well,” Kevin said. “He certainly helped put her away.”
“I don’t think he’s involved in setting up Miss Mildred. Other than keeping Silas up-to-date on what’s been going on, he’s stuck to doing his job, like Gramps said,” I replied. “I think the murder is tied to whoever wants those properties. Either Jerry Richards’s alibi is bogus, or Chuck Sparks killed Miss Elizabeth. Either one of them could have set up Miss Mildred.”
“What about the power of attorney?” Kevin asked. “I know Luke didn’t seem crazy about the idea, but he doesn’t know what you can do, Dae. Maybe you should go and see Miss Mildred before it’s too late. If there is a document, maybe you can sense its location from her.”
“I think that’s the best idea,” Gramps agreed. “Why don’t you and Kevin go do that, and I’ll watch the shop?”
I knew a done deal when I heard one. I hoped Kevin didn’t. He seemed oblivious to it and agreed right away. “It shouldn’t be that hard to get in to see her.” He took out his cell phone. “Let me see what I can do.”
It turned out that Kevin couldn’t do anything, but when I called Luke, he agreed to set it up for me. He apologized for leaving so quickly and said he hoped I didn’t take offense.
I assured him it was fine and that I hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the way he’d left. After I ended the call, I noticed Kevin and Gramps staring at me. “What? Were you listening in?”
“What do you think?” Gramps smirked. “Is there a little romance in the air between you and Luke?”
“I don’t think this is a good time to discuss that,” I told him and turned to Kevin. “I’m ready if you are.”
“I need a few minutes. In fact, maybe you can help me. I’m looking for the Duck Museum of History. Somebody told me they stored the old records from the Duck Gazette there. I’m looking for some information about Bunk Whitley.”
“Sure. I know right where that is. We can stop there on the way out of Duck. I’ve been meaning to see Max Caudle for a while.”
I started to give Gramps a key to the shop. He reminded me that he didn’t need one and pulled his copy out. “I thought it would be good to have for an emergency.”
“Like sneaking in there with your girlfriend?”
“I don’t ask you when you sneak out. I don’t think it’s polite for you to ask me when I sneak in.” He laughed and hugged me. “Besides, Mary Lou wanted to take a look around. She thought you might have something in that hodgepodge of stuff that you could donate for the raffle on Wednesday.”
My eyes narrowed. “You know the rules.”
“I know. I won’t let her take any of your special items.”
With that in place, I walked out with Kevin into the watery afternoon sunshine. Despite the overcast skies, it was sweltering. I could never understand how it could be so hot when there was a constant breeze blowing across the isla
nd. As soon as we stepped out of the air-conditioning, my clothes felt limp on me.
“You and your grandfather have a great relationship,” Kevin said as he opened the truck door. “It must be fantastic having someone like that in your life.”
“I wouldn’t know what to do without him,” I replied. “He’s always been there for me. Even when he was the sheriff, he always found time for me.”
Kevin started the truck and headed down Duck Road toward Southern Shores. “You know, Dae, I’m all for a good investigation, but you should be prepared in case that’s all this is. Your friend might be guilty, no matter how much you want her to be innocent.”
“I know,” I said as the first fat raindrop hit the windshield.
The Duck Museum of History was a plain little building that had been donated to the Duck Historical Society a few years back. It was actually an old store that had once sold gas, chips, Pepsis and sunglasses. Max Caudle was the museum director. He’d held that position since I was in school, probably because no one else wanted it.
Outside the blue, three-room building, a large statue of a duck stood beside a statue of a horse. The display also included two rusted cannons legend said had washed up on Duck’s shore back in the 1700s. Several cannonballs were stuck in concrete around them.
Inside, the old museum was cool and musty smelling. The light was too dim to really see everything the historical society had managed to piece together down through the years. I was proud of this little place anyway. It represented the heritage of everyone who had been born here. From pirates to wild horses, all of it was part of our past.
“Mayor O’Donnell!” Max greeted us at the door. “It’s so good to see you.”
Max was a short, stout man with curly brown hair and ruddy skin. He always looked as though he’d been out in the sun too long, despite the bookish quality the glasses perched on the end of his nose gave him. His face matched his always-present red suspenders. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him wear anything except sandals on his feet.
“Please, Max, call me Dae. Otherwise I have to start calling you Mr. Caudle again like when I was in school.” I smiled at him, then turned to Kevin. “This is Kevin Brickman. He’s new to Duck.”
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