A Timely Vision mpm-1

by Joyce Lavene

  I apologized for making him worry. “I have Kevin Brickman and Shayla with me, Gramps.”

  “Of course!” He shook hands with Kevin. “How are you, Mr. Brickman? How did those pictures turn out?”

  “Just fine, thanks. I think I got a good feel for the land looking at it from out there.”

  I’d forgotten our conversation at Missing Pieces. Hopefully, Gramps would too and not try to do any matchmaking. Although Shayla wasn’t holding Kevin’s arm anymore, she was practically standing on his shadow. She was definitely doing some matchmaking of her own.

  “I just finished making dinner,” Gramps said. “You’ll stay, won’t you? There’s plenty. Dae eats like a bird, and I can only pack away so much now that I’m older. When I was younger, I could eat a whole swordfish by myself! But those days are past me now.”

  I could see the uncomfortable, disappointed look on Shayla’s face as Kevin took Gramps up on his offer and the two of them went into the kitchen. “What’s wrong with men anyway?” she whispered. “Why don’t they ever know when to leave a thing alone?”

  “I can’t believe you think Kevin is that interesting.”

  She smiled, catlike. “I can’t believe you don’t.”

  During our dinner of fried rice, cornbread and garden tomatoes, the conversation turned to Miss Elizabeth’s death, as had all conversations over the last few days. We sat around the scrubbed wood table and tried to imagine what had happened.

  “I think she was robbed,” Gramps said. “She was an old busybody, that’s for sure. And she loved to go out walking. How many times did someone have to end up taking her home? But she always had her purse with her. She wouldn’t leave without it. No one can find it now.”

  “It could’ve gotten lost in the sand,” Shayla added, playing with her food. No doubt wishing she was at a dark table at the Curbside with Kevin. “There was a storm, you know. Maybe it was swept out to sea.”

  “Or you could be right.” Kevin glanced at Gramps. “She could’ve been robbed. Maybe she put up a fight and got hurt. It wouldn’t take much to kill a woman that age.”

  “We have a few break-ins every now and again. We even had a robbery last year at the convenience store. But I have a hard time with the idea that someone murdered Miss Elizabeth.” I said my piece, then sat back from the table. Food didn’t taste so good when you were talking about murder.

  “Maybe you could touch something she was wearing and tell us all what happened,” Shayla suggested.

  I stared at her—if only looks could kill—and finally said, “No.”

  “Could you do that?” Kevin asked.

  “I can’t form images from things,” I explained, softening my tone a little. “I have to touch the person.”

  “Maybe you could touch Miss Elizabeth,” Shayla continued. “Maybe you could pick up a vibe that way.”

  “I’ve already touched her. I didn’t see anything.” I felt a little uncomfortable defending myself, but I went on. “I’ve thought about this again and again since finding Miss Elizabeth. But I get nothing. No image. Nothing.”

  “It’s probably because Lizzie isn’t able to form a picture in her mind.” Gramps started clearing the table. “I think Dae’s ability has always been like her grandmother’s. She could only see a picture of something a person visualized in their mind.”

  “What about Dae finding all that junk she puts in her shop? She can find that without touching anyone.” Shayla sounded as though she was daring me to deny it.

  “That’s different. I can find odds and ends by myself. But I have to touch someone to find things they’ve lost. I don’t see them getting married, giving birth, or dying. I wouldn’t want to even if I could.” Why was she being so antagonistic? I knew she liked Kevin, but this was ridiculous.

  “I’m sure Kevin is right, and we’ll all know what happened shortly.” Gramps brought that part of the conversation to an end. “I’ve got a little pecan pie left in the fridge. Anybody up for dessert?”

  He took Kevin out on the porch that overlooked Currituck Sound while Shayla and I got out plates and forks. “What’s wrong with you tonight, Dae?” she demanded. “I know all of this has been stressful, but there’s no reason to look at me like you’d like to strangle me.”

  “I wasn’t looking at you like that.” I sliced the pie in four even pieces. “I wasn’t looking any way at all. What about you? I felt like the accused at the Salem witch trials!”

  “It’s Kevin, isn’t it? If you have a thing for him, you should tell me.”

  “I don’t have a thing for him. I just met him.” I glanced toward the back porch. “If you want him, you can have him.”

  She giggled. “Maybe you should have a thing for him. You know we don’t have that many good-looking, single men who live here year-round. And no one wants more than a one-nighter with a tourist.”

  “It’s not like that.” I licked my finger after putting pie on all the plates. Gramps has won ribbons for his pecan pie at the county fair. It’s the best. “He talked to Gramps before he met me.”

  She looked around me as she picked up two plates. “So he knew all about the psychic thing. Was he weird about it?”

  “No. Not really. It’s why he was with me when I found Miss Elizabeth. I was glad he was there. He asked me to help him find a missing key. That’s it.”

  “You’re sure he didn’t want to hold hands with you? It might be his idea of a good pickup line given how you find things.”

  “It didn’t seem that way to me.”

  She nudged me with her elbow as she walked by. “Then it’s every girl for herself. As the pirates used to say, no quarter.”

  I laughed as she walked toward the back porch, picturing the two of us sword fighting over a captive Kevin. For some reason, that reminded me of the piece of metal I’d picked up on the street. I told her I’d be out in a minute and took it out of my pocket.

  It was old, an award of some kind. I could barely make out the name . . . Amanda. The shield shape was clear. It had a date on it, 1964. It seemed to be made of gold. It looked like the lapel pins people wear on blazers, but there was no pin on the back.

  A knock on the front door interrupted my examination of the pin. I put the medal back in my pocket, left the two slices of pie on the kitchen table and went to answer it. It wasn’t unusual for Duck residents to come up to the house when there were problems. I hoped whatever it was would be easily resolved. But the man at the door was a stranger. “Can I help you?”

  “I saw your house, and I was wondering if you’d ever thought about selling.” He smiled broadly, showing big, even white teeth. His brown hair was carefully tousled, and his handsome face shone with a sprayed-on tan. Definitely not a resident.

  “No. Thanks anyway. We like it here.”

  “I could offer you some good money for it. Land is scarce out here, as I’m sure you know. It goes for a premium. I have some wealthy buyers looking for places all the time. I could get you at least two million for this house and land. Just imagine what you could do with that kind of cash!”

  “Buy another house because I’d be living in the street?” I started to move back from the doorway. “I’m not interested. Thanks anyway.”

  “Wait!” He put one large, pudgy hand on mine. “Let’s not be hasty! I have some information here about my real estate firm. Let me leave it with you along with my business card, which includes my 24/7 cell phone number. You can call me day or night if you change your mind.”

  The contact from his restraining hand felt odd, but the vision it brought was very clear. I had something that belonged to him. He’d been thinking about it enough that it was in the forefront of his mind even as he tried to get me to sell the house. “You can’t have my house”—I glanced at his card—“Mr. Sparks, but I do have something that belongs to you. Please come inside.”

  Chapter 5

  A grin spread across Sparks’s face. “I’d love to, ma’am. Please call me Chuck.”

  “Okay
, Chuck. I’m Dae O’Donnell.” His obvious eagerness made me uncomfortable. “I meant what I said. You can’t have the house. But I found something I think you’ve been looking for. Would you like some iced tea with your pie?”

  By that time, the new voice had brought everyone in from the back porch. Chuck shook hands with all of them and passed out business cards. “Are one of you gentlemen the owner of this property? I think you’ll find the offer of two million dollars I made Dae to be a real incentive. Do you mind if I take a look around?”

  He didn’t wait for actual permission but took our silence as a go-ahead. He investigated the living room first, smiling and nodding when he saw the stone fireplace.

  “Who is this man, Dae?” Gramps asked.

  “Did he really offer you two million for your house?” Shayla demanded.

  “He’s a real estate person,” I explained. “And yes, he offered me that much. Not in writing, but as a throw-out number to get the ball rolling. You know how real estate people are.”

  “Why is he in the house instead of in the street?” Gramps wondered.

  “I picked something up tonight. It belongs to him. I’m trying to get around to telling him that I know it’s his.”

  “Nice half bath down here.” Chuck came out of the hall. “Any closets?”

  “Dae,” Gramps warned. “Get a move on telling him.”

  “Let’s all sit down for a minute.” I smiled at Chuck. “Tea? Pie?”

  He joined us at the table, smiles all around at each of us, as he dug into his pie and slurped his tea. “This place is great! I might be able to go as high as two and a half. What do you think of that?”

  Gramps’s face darkened, like a thundercloud ready to burst. I saw a storm coming and decided I’d better step in before he let loose. “Chuck, we really don’t want to sell the house.”

  He nodded. “I understand. Things are tough. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. Believe me, I’ve been in that spot.”

  “Young man,” Gramps bellowed, “I have no inclination to sell my house to you.”

  Chuck’s smile faded. “But you wanted me to come in and eat pie.”

  I took out the medal and put it in his hand. “I have something of yours. Something you’ve been looking for.”

  “Where did you find this?” Chuck stared at the medal.

  “On Duck Road coming back here through town. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I realized it was yours when you came to the door.”

  He looked at me as though he’d wandered into an episode of The Twilight Zone. “How did you know?”

  “It’s difficult to explain.”

  Shayla made an impatient clicking sound with her teeth. “It’s not that difficult. Dae finds things, you know? She’s psychic. She knows who things belong to. Understand?”

  Chuck looked even more uncomfortable. “This medal belonged to my mother. It was the first award she ever won after she became a real estate agent. She lost it twenty years ago. No way she dropped it then, and you found it now.”

  “I’m glad I met you so I could give it back.” I smiled and hoped it would ease some of his discomfort, but it didn’t help. He pushed back his chair and left his pie half eaten. His eyes were wild. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. He picked up his brochures and let himself out the front door.

  “You’re welcome,” Kevin called, an annoyed smile on his face.

  “Aren’t you going to call him back?” Shayla demanded. “The next man might not offer you so much. I wonder what my house is worth.”

  Conversation lagged after that. The pie was gone and the coffee was cold. It wasn’t long before Shayla convinced Kevin to take her out for that drink. He asked politely if Gramps and I would like to come. Both of us said no, and I waved good-bye to them from the front door.

  “They make a nice couple.” Gramps came up behind me and waved too.

  “You think so?”

  “If you aren’t interested in him, I do. Any chance you might be interested in him?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s okay, I guess. For an outsider.”

  “I can’t believe you’re so prejudiced, Dae. I know we didn’t raise you to be that way.”

  “He might decide to move back to D.C. someday.” I closed the front door and turned off the outside light.

  Gramps let out a grunt as he pushed himself back in his recliner. “You know how to ruin an old man’s fun, don’t you?”

  I sneaked out of the house early the next morning. Gramps didn’t have a charter, so he’d stayed up late and was sleeping in. It was nice escaping without eating breakfast. He’s kind of a good-breakfast nut. I love him, but sometimes our lives clash a little.

  Duck is beautiful early in the morning. It’s the one time the town resembles the way it was when I was growing up. When I was in my twenties, the place went through a kind of growth spurt, like people suddenly discovered Duck was here. Since then, it has to be cold for there to be any peace and quiet. Except in the mornings. Combine that peace and quiet with a good cup of coffee and the morning paper, and I was in heaven. There was always a little town gossip too. I liked that with my coffee.

  Some of the other shopkeepers said good morning to me as we passed on the boardwalk overlooking the sound. A few joggers were out, along with some hungry seagulls scavenging for food. I settled on a bench, ready to sip my coffee and enjoy that lazy, satisfying feeling that comes from sitting on the boardwalk, watching people go by.

  My mood was shattered when I opened the paper and took a good look at the front page. In broad headlines, Miss Elizabeth’s death became public property. It seemed wrong somehow to share all the intimate details of the tragedy with strangers. How did reporters find out she was wearing that black dress with the little pink hearts?

  I half expected to see a picture of her body being carried to the medical examiner’s office. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. The paper ran a much younger shot of her from when she was crowned Miss Duck seventy years ago. I glanced at the caption. The photo was courtesy of the Duck Historical Museum and Max Caudle.

  I could tell from the growing heat of the sun and the crowd beginning to build that it was time to open Missing Pieces. But my heart wasn’t in it today. My mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Miss Elizabeth. What had happened to her out there, alone in the dunes? Imagination can be a terrible thing.

  I was so caught up in thinking about the tragedy that I completely neglected Chief Michaels’s number-one rule for keeping safe: Be aware. I’d even gone to his safety refresher course over the winter, yet still I wasn’t keeping track of my surroundings.

  As I opened the door to the shop, someone brushed by me, knocking me against the side of the building and grabbing my purse at the same time. It took me an instant to realize what had happened. I looked up to see the purse snatcher running down the boardwalk toward the parking lot. “Hey! You can’t do that!”

  I couldn’t remember whether the chief had said you were or weren’t supposed to chase someone who took your purse. It was my first thought, though, and before I knew it, my feet were following. I ran after him, taking a shortcut through the midsection of the Duck Shoppes to head him off. I kept yelling, hoping someone might stop him before my lungs exploded. I hadn’t run anywhere for a long time.

  The thief was tall and thin, kind of scruffy looking from the back. He looked familiar, and I suddenly realized he was the young man who’d asked me about a job on the Fourth of July. He must’ve been setting me up. And if someone didn’t do something to help me stop him, he was going to get away with my purse.

  I yelled again and tried to speed up. He was passing the Coffee House, and I saw him run around the back of the Dumpster on the side. Was he trying to hide or trying to double back to confuse me?

  I had my answer a second later as he ran out from behind the Dumpster and headed back in the direction from which we’d come. There was a small runoff ditch beside the parking lot that he plowed throug
h, water splashing everywhere as I followed him back to the blacktop. I was closer now because I’d waited for him to make his move, but he was still faster than me. I was going to lose him and with him, my credit cards, driver’s license and a very expensive tube of my favorite lipstick. Lucky my keys had been in my hand to open the door.

  We kept running through the parking lot. I wasn’t sure which way he’d turn. One way went up to the boardwalk again and the other way went right down into the sound. He might lose me in the gathering crowds starting to shop. If he ran down into the water, I had him.

  Then something amazing happened. Tim Mabry jumped down from the boardwalk right on top of the purse snatcher. The boy crumpled under his weight. Suddenly everyone noticed what was going on and took an interest. Where were they when I was trying to save my property?

  “You need this boy for something?” Tim grinned as he hauled the young man to his feet.

  “H-he . . . stole . . . my . . . p-purse.” I tried to catch my breath, but couldn’t seem to get enough air into my poor lungs. I leaned against the side of the stairs with a dozen people staring down on us.

  “Purse snatcher, huh?” Tim yanked my purse from the thief’s hands. “You know, we may have to have a little talk about where you were Fourth of July. We have a purse missing that might be part of an important murder case.”

  “Should you tell him that?” I wondered, gratefully accepting my purse from him. “Won’t that mess up the investigation?”

  “I don’t think that’s a problem, Mayor. You don’t worry your pretty head about it. We’ll take care of everything.”

  His tone set my teeth on edge as it always did, but I couldn’t complain. He’d stopped the purse snatcher and rescued my lipstick. I knew what was coming next, and I accepted it graciously. When he asked me out for dinner, I said yes. How could I say no even though I knew another marriage proposal waited for me after the last course?