by Joyce Lavene
Shayla and Trudy stopped us as we walked toward town hall so I could check my messages. We stood under the bright blue canopy on the boardwalk, which thankfully kept most of the rain off of us. “Don’t you two look chummy?” Trudy giggled and nudged Shayla.
“A little too chummy,” Shayla said, giving me an evil look. “Where are you two going?”
“Dinner at the Blue Whale,” Kevin explained. “You’re both welcome to join us. I make a very good lasagna. My grandmother on my mother’s side was from Italy. She taught me how to cook when I was a little kid. There’s plenty for everyone.”
Shayla muttered something under her breath about Kevin being too full of himself to think there was enough of him to go around. Trudy giggled again. Both women agreed they wanted lasagna for supper in the worst way.
“I have to check my messages,” I told them. “Then I can go.”
“We’ll meet you there,” Shayla said. “You can find the way without us, right?”
“Sure.” I wondered what she was up to. Didn’t she and Tim have something going on now? She acted like she was still interested in Kevin and I was getting in her way.
“We’ll wait.” Kevin smiled. “Maybe the rain will ease up.”
“Shayla has the coolest idea,” Trudy told us. “She wants to do a séance for Miss Elizabeth and maybe Wild Johnny too. The Blue Whale would be the perfect place for it. It’s kind of spooky anyway.”
We all looked at Kevin to see what he thought. He shrugged. “Why not? Although I’m not crazy about people thinking the Blue Whale is spooky. It might hurt business once I’m open.”
Shayla linked her arm through his as we walked into town hall. “Whatever! You don’t understand the tourist climate down here, sweetie. If people thought your place was haunted, you’d have a crowd there every night waiting for a place to eat and stay. People love ghosts.”
I said hello to Nancy, who was still at her desk, and then heard someone clear his throat. At the sound, Shayla moved away from Kevin. “Tim! I didn’t know you’d be here,” she simpered. “I was just thinking about you, honey.”
Tim nodded to me. “Dae. Could I have a word with you? Official police business.”
“Sure. Come in my office.” I glanced at the four people left in the lobby. “We’ll just be a minute.”
Once the door closed behind us, Tim said, “The chief wanted me to remind you about the ribbon cutting tomorrow at the new restaurant across the street. It’s at ten thirty.”
“I know. I have it on my calendar. You brought me in here to remind me about the ribbon cutting?”
He looked down at the floor. “They talked to Miss Mildred today. I heard her crying from out in the hall. She’s losing it, Dae. They’re going to put her away. I don’t think there’s anything any of us can do.”
I put my hand on his arm. “I guess we’ll do the best we can. Thanks for telling me.”
We went back into the lobby where Shayla had convinced Nancy to join us for what had become lasagna and a séance at the Blue Whale. Nancy handed me my messages as she put on her bright yellow rain gear. It didn’t take much to convince Tim that he should come along. Within moments, we were back out in the rain and headed for the Blue Whale.
After the short, wet walk to the ocean side of Duck, we all worked together in the big hotel kitchen. Kevin put Tim and me in front of a table-sized wooden chopping block with instructions to cut vegetables. Nancy and Trudy grated fresh cheese while Kevin and Shayla made the sauce. The sauce making seemed to be more fun than the jobs the rest of us were doing. Shayla kept laughing and saying, “Oh, Kevin! You’re crazy!”
“I hope he remembers that Shayla is my girlfriend,” Tim growled as he chopped carrots.
“If she remembers, you won’t have any problem,” I advised him.
Kevin uncorked a couple of bottles of muscadine wine and told us all about the Mother Vine in Manteo that he visited when he first came to the Outer Banks. “Did you know it’s been there for four hundred years?”
“We’ve lived here all our lives,” Tim told him. “I think we know about the Mother Vine.”
“I haven’t lived here all my life,” Shayla said. “Tell me about the Mother Vine.”
Kevin turned on some late-eighties rock music and poured us all some of the sweet red wine. He talked about the early settlers and growing grapes as though he’d memorized the information from a tour. Nancy and Trudy giggled as they grated. Tim kept setting up pieces of Boston bibb lettuce and chopping them into shreds.
The lasagna noodles were finally in the pan with the appropriate sauce, cheese and vegetables. The kitchen smelled like garlic and herbs. I looked around the room, which was almost as big as the whole downstairs of my house. I could see where Kevin had done renovations to the walls and added a new stove and dishwasher. The room seemed ready for customers, if the Blue Whale ever opened. No telling how long it might be before the SBI was done looking at it. Gramps and I probably added to that by turning over the music box.
“It will be an hour until that’s done,” Kevin said. “What about this séance thing while we’re waiting?”
“I think we could manage that.” Shayla smiled up at him. She handed him her empty wineglass. “I could use a refill. Being a medium is thirsty work.”
Kevin obliged and topped off our glasses too. “This way to the dining room.”
The dining room was ready for visitors as well. It was beautiful with big rosewood tables, two large crystal chandeliers and green velvet drapes adorning the big windows that overlooked the beach. Plenty of local artwork hung on the walls, giving the room a nice, homey feel. Maybe that was because I knew some of the artists personally.
We picked out one of the big round tables, lit a tea candle in the middle of it and sat down. The room seemed very large and empty once we were all in our places. I had expected something different from Kevin. I’m not sure why. He was obviously very traditional, and this room suited him. If it had been mine, I would probably have painted the walls dark blue and tried to make it look like the bottom of the ocean. That was my nontraditional take on it.
“Okay. Everyone, hold hands,” Shayla whispered, probably trying not to echo in the room. “It’s very important to stay in your seat and not let go of the hands you’re holding.”
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Trudy’s voice had a small squeak in it. “I mean, what if these people want to be left alone?”
“What are the chances? They were both murdered,” Nancy reminded her. “If someone kills me, I hope someone will have a séance. I’d want to tell who did it.”
I agreed with her. It would be nice to know for sure whether it was possible to contact the dead and ask important questions. Or in my case, to apologize to my mother for being an idiot. But I guess having an argument with me wasn’t enough angst to keep her hanging around. Murder, on the other hand, seemed likely to create ghosts.
“What do we do?” Tim asked. “What if we see something?”
“You let me do everything. Unless you see something. Then you ask questions.” Shayla smiled at Kevin, who sat to the right of her. Tim sat on her left side. Leave it to her to hold hands with both men.
With everything set up, Shayla bowed her head and called on the spirits to come forth. We waited around her with quickened breaths, staring into the darkness of the old dining room.
I wondered how many ghosts could be hanging around the Blue Whale. It had been here forever. There could be some flappers, a few pirates and an innkeeper or two waiting to have a conversation with us.
“Miss Elizabeth Simpson!” Shayla called out the name, and I jumped in surprise. Nancy squeezed my hand as though she understood. “Mister Johnny Simpson! We call on both of you to come out and tell us your secrets.”
I felt a cold draft go through the room. I glanced at Nancy to see if she felt it too, but her eyes were closed. Tim was looking around, squirming a little in his chair. Trudy was staring straight ahead as though she were a
fraid to look to either side.
Kevin was looking at Shayla when that chilly draft blew out the candle on the table. Trudy made a shrieking noise but didn’t let go of my hand. The room was in complete darkness now. My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest as I wondered if I would finally see a real spirit.
There was a sound. I couldn’t identify what it was. It was like the wind sighing in the eaves when a storm comes up from the Atlantic. But something about it was unnatural. It was almost like a voice. I couldn’t make out what it was saying, but I felt sure it was someone trying to tell us something.
“Is that it?” Tim asked.
“Shh!” Shayla responded. “Someone is near. You’ll scare them away.”
“Is it Johnny?” Trudy wanted to know. She craned her neck to look around the room.
“You have to be quiet!” Shayla said again. “What’s wrong with you people?”
“I don’t think I see a ghost, but I do smell lasagna that needs to come out of the oven,” Kevin said. “Excuse me.”
When he broke contact with the group, I felt the tension in the room ease away. It was like fog melting in the sun. Or in this case, faith in the face of so many nonbelievers. My chance to see a ghost slid away as everyone started moving back from the table.
An image formed in my mind and I realized I was still holding Nancy’s hand. I could see something important she’d lost. It was a slip of daisy-covered Post-it that had fallen down between her desk and the old file cabinet beside it. She was worried about it. I sensed that the chief had asked her about it that afternoon and she’d lied to him. It was only a little lie. She didn’t have any idea what had happened to the note.
I started to reassure her as we all got up and headed for the kitchen, then I decided against it. As much as I wanted her to feel better, I thought it might be for the best if I didn’t tell her in front of everyone and embarrass her.
“Tim and Dae are in charge of salad,” Kevin announced once we reached the kitchen. “The bowls are in that cabinet. I have the lasagna. Nancy, can you get the bread? Shayla and Trudy, you guys take up the slack. Whatever else we need, you’re in charge.”
No surprise, we decided not to eat in the dining room. The area in the bar was smaller but also less drafty and devoid of strange feelings. All the food was great—I was especially impressed by Kevin’s lasagna. I complimented him on it, and he accepted with a grin. “It’s the only dinner food I know how to make. Breakfast, I have covered. I make the best French toast in the world. I haven’t worked on lunch yet, but I’m thinking I need more than grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“I’m sure you can find someone to work here in the summer,” I told him. “Winter help is a little harder to get. Only people who have been here awhile stay when it gets cold.”
“But I’m sure Kevin will be able to find lots of year-round help once he opens.” Trudy smiled and crinkled her pretty eyes at him. She didn’t cause those frown lines for just anyone.
“Thanks,” he said. “I hope all of you are suitably impressed enough to recommend me to the locals. I plan to pay a good salary too. With benefits.”
Shayla leaned against him (she’d managed to sit between Kevin and Tim again). “Don’t make it sound too appealing, sugar. I might give up my shop and come to work for you.”
Tim leaned his elbows on the table beside his empty lasagna plate. “Just how is it an ex-FBI agent came up with enough money to buy the Blue Whale and do all these renovations and still have enough to hire help?”
If Kevin noticed Tim’s irritated tone, he didn’t let on. “Not everyone in the FBI comes from poor families. My parents were very well-off. They left me a nice nest egg. It was one of the reasons I decided to get out.”
“But wasn’t it exciting?” Shayla asked. “All that cloak-and-dagger, spy rings and late night meetings in smoky nightclubs. It sounds sexy to me, baby.”
Kevin laughed. “As I was telling Dae, it gets old. I didn’t want to spend my whole life chasing bad guys. It’s a good game for someone right out of college. I like being an innkeeper. Bad paint and rotten wood are about as exciting as I want nowadays.”
“Not to mention dead men in your upstairs,” Nancy quipped. “Maybe you can leave the job, but it never really leaves you.”
“You might be right,” Kevin conceded. “I hope the dead man upstairs was the only thing left over from the previous owner. By the way, does anyone know anything about him? The previous owner, I mean. Bunk something, wasn’t it?”
Tim laughed. “Of course. That’s like asking if you can find your way from Corolla to Duck! Old Bunk Whitley is a legend in these parts. People say he bought the Blue Whale with smuggling money, like so many other people in this part of the world.”
“But people also say the pirate gold he claimed to have found is what did him in too,” I added. “Gramps swears the ghosts of the pirates came to get old Bunk. That’s why they never found his body.”
Kevin finished his wine and glanced around the room. “I hope we’re not about to find another surprise. If old Bunk Whitley is stuck in some closet, I don’t want to know about it. But it’s a nice ghost story. Maybe I can use that in my brochure.”
Trudy shuddered. “Isn’t one dead body enough? And talk about legends! Everyone around here knows about Wild Johnny Simpson. How he broke Miss Elizabeth’s heart. How he courted both sisters who were equally beautiful, but he only wanted Miss Elizabeth. How Miss Mildred never forgave her sister for taking him from her. Now that’s the stuff of legends. Real legends, not some stupid pirate ghost.”
At that moment, there was a loud thump that rattled the windows in the bar. Kevin got to his feet and raced outside. We followed him and stood in the courtyard with the mermaid fountain, staring up at the roof, silhouetted against the dark sky.
“What is it?” Nancy whispered. “I don’t see anything.”
“Is it a pirate ghost come to get Trudy for being so ignorant?” Shayla demanded, nudging Trudy with her elbow.
“I wish it was something that interesting.” Kevin ran his hand through his dark brown hair. “It’s the roof. I was worried about some soft spots yesterday. See that hole up there? Unless we find Bunk Whitley’s body in it, I’m going to have to put a new roof on over there.”
Chapter 12
I went into work early the next morning. It was one of those cooler mornings when the fog swirls around the houses and lays across the sound like a blanket. Gramps offered to drive me to Missing Pieces on the golf cart, but I wanted to walk.
I had thought I’d be up all night thinking about everything that happened at the Blue Whale, but I fell asleep two minutes after I climbed into bed. That meant I needed some time to think before I opened the shop. I had promised Kevin I’d come back this afternoon to start painting, if the morning was dry. He planned to continue with his painting on the ground floor despite the new hole in the roof that needed patching.
I walked along Duck Road, glad for the early morning quiet. The bushes and shrubs dripped with the heavy fog. It was like being wrapped in gooey, wet cotton candy. I remember when I was a kid and hid outside under the bushes to keep from being seen. It’s much harder as an adult to hide or even get away for a few minutes to think things through.
But what to think? If there was a ghost at the Blue Whale last night, he or she didn’t give me any answers I could use to help Miss Mildred. We still had no clue who really killed Miss Elizabeth, let alone who killed Wild Johnny thirty years ago. I wondered, as I listened to some birds chirping from inside a thicket, if the two crimes were related. It seemed likely to me. What were the chances that we’d find Wild Johnny’s body right after Miss Elizabeth was killed? On the other hand, no one could guess when Johnny’s body would be found. The whole thing was giving me a headache.
The Duck Shoppes and the boardwalk were hazy in the fog, with seagulls folding their wings beneath the clapboard eaves, waiting for the sun. I headed to town hall first to surprise Nancy before she got there. I t
hought if I returned the note she’d lost to her desk, she’d think it had been misplaced. She could call the chief and tell him what he needed to know.
I slipped my key in the lock, glancing around now since I’d had my purse stolen. I was trying to be more aware of my surroundings, as Chief Michaels always advised. It appeared to be only the seagulls and me. None of the shops were open. I pushed open the door and closed it quickly, locking it behind me.
The Post-it wasn’t hard to find. Of course it helped that I knew exactly where to look. I reached my fingers along the floor beside the file cabinet and snatched it out along with a few dust bunnies. With a flourish, I spread it out flat on Nancy’s desk. She’d be surprised when she came in.
As I flattened the rounded edges and the part that wouldn’t stick anymore, I read the note. It was brief—“I need to talk to you about Millie. Silas Butler. 252- 411-9750.”
I stopped flattening for a moment and looked at the note in disbelief. Silas Butler? Everyone knew about Silas Butler. He was Elizabeth and Mildred’s younger brother. A ne’er-do-well who was thrown out of the army. He’d come home to Duck in disgrace only to take up gambling and any other illegal activity he could find. He was legendary for stealing a poor box from the Duck Presbyterian Church in 1964.
The unthinkable had happened after that. He was killed in the 1970s running some kind of scheme or selling drugs. I’d seen his grave marker in Duck Cemetery a hundred times. My mother told me once that there was a song written about the Bad Butler.
This couldn’t be the same person. There were probably plenty of Silas Butlers in the world. But how many who wanted to talk to the chief about Millie?
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was one of those standard round clocks, black and white with hands that crawl from one number to the next when you’re bored. I had at least an hour before Nancy came in. I dialed the number on the Post-it and waited for someone to pick up.