A Timely Vision mpm-1

by Joyce Lavene

  It had to be a slow news day. There were reporters here from Virginia Beach and Raleigh. Surely they had a news story more interesting than me to report on. I was glad Kevin had been enclosed in the circle of reporters too. I wasn’t nervous exactly, although I wasn’t used to this much attention. I could see the people standing in the park waiting to do tai chi. Andy Martin had a disapproving frown on his face. Apparently he didn’t like reporters interrupting his class.

  “I can’t comment on that at this time.” I smiled and waved to Andy to let him know I was on my way.

  Suddenly Jerry lunged closer to me. I jumped back in reflex, not liking the feral gleam in his eyes. “Maybe you’d like to tell me what kind of mumbo jumbo you were doing with my great aunt yesterday,” he muttered so the other reporters couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  I didn’t plan to answer that. I wanted to set him back by accusing him of trying to steal Miss Mildred’s house. But before I could form the words, Jerry was pushed up and away from me. In an instant, Kevin had him down on the ground, holding Jerry’s arms behind his back while the cameraman filmed the whole thing. It was like a scene out of TV movie in which the FBI agent finally apprehends the bad guy.

  I tried nonverbally to remind him that he wasn’t an FBI agent anymore and that Jerry wasn’t a perp, but that wasn’t working so I yelled, “Kevin!”

  “I hope you’re getting this,” Jerry yelled to his cameraman. “I’m going to sue for assault. You can’t manhandle the press.”

  “I’m the mayor’s bodyguard,” Kevin growled. “I can do whatever is necessary to assure her safety. You look like a threat to me.”

  I could see this wasn’t going to end well. Kevin was trying to help but possibly overdoing it, although I’m not sure why Jerry invaded my personal space. That had never happened before. I took a step toward them with the overeager eyes of the rest of the press following me. “Kevin, let him go. Jerry, don’t threaten me. Not unless you want everyone here to know about you selling Miss Mildred’s house out from under her. It makes you a good murder suspect, don’t you think?”

  Kevin let him go with a reluctance I could feel. Jerry straightened his blue suit and picked up his microphone, though he held it at his side. “I have an alibi for the Simpson murder,” he hissed.

  “So who’d you hire to do it?” Kevin demanded in a low whisper.

  That made Jerry back off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course not,” I said sarcastically. “But I’m wondering who you had ransack Miss Mildred’s house. Because I think you’re responsible for that too.”

  “You’re crazy. But you won’t stop me. Everything I’m doing is totally legal. If you don’t think so, ask the sheriff or the clerk of court. They can tell you.” He signaled to his cameraman, and the two of them stalked away, leaving the rest of the press confused and wondering what had happened. Mostly wondering what they’d missed.

  “What’s up with you and Jerry?” Tom Murray from the Virginia Beach newspaper asked. “Is that guy really your bodyguard? Has someone threatened you, Mayor O’Donnell?”

  “I’m sorry. I have nothing else to say at this time. I’ll have our town clerk get in touch with each of you when I release my statement. Thank you for visiting Duck today. I hope you’ll stay and take in the sights.”

  Kevin and I hustled out of the crowd and headed across the park where Andy was already starting his tai chi class. “Thanks, I think,” I said to Kevin as we walked across the dew-covered grass.

  “I thought he was getting too close.” He shrugged. “We don’t know what that guy is capable of yet. Sorry if I scared you.”

  “I think you scared him a lot more. I should take you along to all my press functions. Not that most of them are that dramatic. But you could liven them up.”

  “Better to act when you’re not sure.”

  “I agree.” I put my hand on his arm, enjoying the little tingle that accompanied the contact. “Thank you for protecting me.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I spent the next twenty minutes with Andy’s tai chi class. Except that once I got there, they didn’t want to do tai chi anymore. They wanted to ask me questions about what had happened with the press. Then they wanted to ask me questions about Miss Mildred. By the time I was done answering questions, Tai Chi Time on the Green was over.

  “Sorry.” I smiled at Andy. “If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve called and canceled.”

  “That’s okay.” He stood close to me, staring at Kevin, who was a few yards away, waiting and watching. “Is that guy really your bodyguard? Did the town pay him to be here?”

  I reassured him that no one had paid for Kevin to be here. I knew there would still be questions about it at the next town council meeting. That’s the way it goes when you’re a public figure who could be spending the town’s tax money.

  With all the excitement behind us (I hoped), Kevin and I walked back to the Coffee House where word of the encounter had already made the Duck grapevine. People stood back when they saw Kevin, even moving out of line to let us order first. Seriously, I could get used to that kind of respect!

  “Don’t you run the Blue Whale?” Mr. Finklestein, one of our New Jersey immigrants, asked Kevin while Phil made our coffee.

  “I do.” Kevin shook his hand. “Or I will, when I finally get it open.”

  “Good deal! You do what needs to be done, young man! That’s the way to live!”

  Our presence silenced the chatter that usually drowned out the sound of the espresso machine. Everyone seemed to be watching us to see what would happen next. I decided getting first place in the coffee line wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I could almost hear the sighs of relief when we walked out the door.

  “Where to now?” Kevin asked, sipping his triple-shot latte.

  “I’m going to open Missing Pieces, as usual. I think I should be safe there. You must need to go back to the Blue Whale.”

  “Actually, there’s not much I can do there anyway. I’ll hang out at your shop for a while.”

  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings or sound ungrateful, but I also didn’t want him glowering at my customers. “No, really, I’ll be fine. Maybe we could meet later for dinner or something.”

  I guess he understood because he agreed to meet me for lunch. That was some reprieve anyway. He cautioned me about wandering around the boardwalk alone, and we parted ways close to town hall.

  I checked in with Nancy, who was frantically trying to find volunteers to help set up Turtle Rescue Day. “Mary Lou called in here a while ago. Some of her volunteers are out sick, but they have a lot to do to get ready for tomorrow. I hate to ask, Dae, but could you go over there? They need people to take supplies out to the beach. You know most of those turtle rescue people don’t drive anymore and don’t walk so good either.”

  “Sure. I’ll put a sign up at the shop letting everyone know I’ll be opening late. I’ll go through my cell phone directory and see if I can round up some more volunteers too.”

  “Thanks, sweetie. I appreciate your help.” She turned back to start typing again. “No messages yet. Check back later.”

  I took out my cell phone and called as many potential volunteers as I could think of while I walked to Missing Pieces and put out my “Back at One” sign. Some of them said they’d go down to the beach and help out. Some were working and couldn’t leave. I talked to Cailey Fargo at the fire department. She promised to send everyone available over to the turtle rescue site. That’s one thing I love about Duck—we all pull together.

  I was on my way home to pull out Gramps’s old Jeep when Tim almost ran into me. He swerved his shiny police car in my general direction, pulled up short in front of me, flashing his blue lights. “What do you think you’re doing out here alone?”

  I shaded my eyes from the sun with my hand so I could look up at him. “I think I’m on my way back to my house. The turtle rescue people need vehicles to transport stuff.�
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  “I understood that someone was supposed to stay with you at all times.” He glanced around, sniffed and hitched up his belt. “Where’s Brickman?”

  “At the Blue Whale painting, I hope. The way we’ve had rain lately, he better get some painting done before another storm hits. Why?”

  “I guess I’ll be going with you, then. We’ll take my car. Your grandfather’s old Jeep doesn’t run half the time anyway. It’s because you never use it. Cars aren’t meant to sit in garages for months without being started.”

  Great. Another guardian. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tim. I’m not going that far. Don’t you have a patrol or something? I’m sure the town council doesn’t want to pay you to chauffer me around.”

  “As it happens, I’m going off duty for a short while. Besides, I think it would be considered a town courtesy to give the mayor a ride to an emergency.”

  There was no way to talk him out of it. I got in the car without further fuss. If I continued to argue with him, the morning would be gone and I wouldn’t be any closer to the turtle rescue area.

  I waved to Shayla, who was riding her bike toward the Duck Shoppes as we went by. She waved back, then stared for a minute. Later, she’d want to know what was going on.

  The road down to the area where Turtle Rescue Day would be held was made of hard-packed sand. Most of the time, vehicles weren’t allowed to drive down here. Signs had already been posted to inform visitors they would have to park along Duck Road tomorrow. But today, to expedite the trip back and forth to fetch supplies, Carter Hatley was waving people in and out of the narrow road that went straight into the Atlantic.

  “You better get down there, Mayor,” he leaned in the car window to say. “Mary Lou is having a cow. She needs somebody to get all of this organized.”

  I smiled, and we drove down to the beach. Obviously, the problem wasn’t lack of help. There were at least a hundred people walking around not doing much of anything. Mary Lou was running back and forth across the beach trying to get things moving. A few men were carrying banners and signs, but they didn’t seem to know where to put them.

  “Oh thank heaven you’re here, Dae!” Mary Lou actually half collapsed against me, her arms dramatically stretched out. “I don’t know what to do. Everything is such a mess. We won’t be ready tomorrow, and we’ll lose all of our donations. You know how we depend on that for the rest of the year. The baby turtles will be abandoned.”

  Even for Mary Lou it was heavy drama. I thought she might cry, but she pulled herself together and looked me in the eye. “Now that you’re here, we can get some things done. You take that side, and I’ll take this side. Here’s a clipboard. It should be self-explanatory.”

  She marched off with more confidence than I was feeling. My side consisted of a large group of men and women in bathing suits. Some were holding signs, and others were holding shovels. Buckets, gloves and other paraphernalia littered the flat sand. It was low tide, not a deadly sand castle in sight.

  I looked at the clipboard and saw that my side was supposed to be putting up barricades that would close off the beach and also protect the turtle nesting area. It seemed simple enough. “Okay. I think all of those big orange cones are supposed to go across there.” I pointed to the far left side. “Half of you start on that. The rest of you, grab some shovels and we’ll get those posts in.”

  I picked up one of the lightweight, stainless steel shovels as I walked by the stack. There were piles of blue plastic gloves, always donated by the hospital. Tim stayed by the police car, choosing to watch instead of participate. Mary Lou was headed off in the opposite direction with her small army following as fast as they could.

  “Excuse me.” A burly man in a Myrtle Beach T-shirt stopped me. “I have a load of collapsible picnic tables with umbrellas that are supposed to be delivered here. I can’t get them down the road with all the other vehicles in the way.”

  “All right.” I waved to Tim. Apparently, he was going to come in handy anyway. “This man will help you take care of that. Thanks.”

  “Hey! I’m supposed to get a check when I drop these off. Have you got the check?”

  I admitted I didn’t have the check and asked him to wait while I ran to get Mary Lou. He informed me quite clearly that he wasn’t going anywhere without his check. I didn’t bother replying, hoping Mary Lou had this in hand.

  But when I reached her, she fell apart again. I was surprised at her emotional state. True, she was near fanatic about protecting the turtles, but aside from that, she was usually calm and capable. I guessed her agitation was due to the fact that this event was so important.

  “I don’t have my wallet.” She covered her face with her sandy hands. “How could I be so stupid? Now he won’t deliver the tables.”

  “Never mind, we’ll work it out. Where’s your wallet?”

  “I think I left it at home. Would you mind getting it, Dae? It’s in the kitchen, I think. The key to the house is under the mat if the door is locked.”

  “Not a problem. Tim can drive me there and back right away. I’ll have the driver wait. It’ll be fine.” I started to walk away, and she called me back.

  “There are some baskets on the porch. Could you bring those back with you too? They’re for the relay race tomorrow. Everyone has to crawl like a turtle. That should be funny, huh?”

  Chapter 18

  Mary Lou’s back door was unlocked. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. Tim shook his head when he saw me push it open. “You know, the chief and I tell people to lock their doors. We walk around town and find doors open like this all the time. How do people expect us to protect them when they don’t protect themselves?”

  “I suppose most people aren’t worried about it. We only have one or two break-ins a month. I’d probably forget to lock the door all the time at home. Gramps remembers it religiously.”

  “That’s what comes from living in a small town.” He shrugged as we walked into the house. “People expect crime to be low. Maybe Miss Elizabeth’s death will wake a few people up around here.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it.” I saw the baskets on the side of the porch. They were heaped up on top of each other near the inside door. “Could you get those while I go in and get Mary Lou’s checkbook?”

  “Sure. I’m going to talk to her about this, Dae. We should really have a fine of some sort for leaving your house open. It’s an invitation to crime.”

  “I’ll let you be the one to go on record with that at the next town council meeting. You don’t run for public office. I bet that whoever goes along with that idea won’t be reelected.”

  I knew I wouldn’t vote for it. And not because people wouldn’t like another fine. It was more because I wouldn’t like it. We have plenty of fines already.

  The door that led into the kitchen was open too. Mary Lou had a nice modest-size clapboard house. The outside was a weathered slate color. The inside, from what I could see, was mostly yellow. In the kitchen, a small wood table with two chairs was nestled between a dish cabinet and a stove. A toaster oven sat in the middle of the stove, mute testimony to the stove’s disuse. There were plenty of pictures of her only son, Derek, and his two children. Derek lived in California. As far as I knew, he hadn’t been back to visit in many years.

  The house looked a little sad and lonely, not neat and orderly like Miss Mildred’s house. There were boxes, crates and turtle rescue signs everywhere. Every other free space was taken up with sewing projects. Heaps of material waiting to be cut into quilt squares dominated her living room.

  I looked quickly through the kitchen and living room but didn’t see any sign of her purse. I glanced out the door and saw Tim still moving baskets. How hard could it be to find a purse? I went back over the same territory with more determination. Still nothing.

  I made my way into Mary Lou’s bedroom, wishing I didn’t have to. It felt a lot like spying on her, but I guessed if she wasn’t worried about it, I wouldn’t be either.

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nbsp; The bedroom was a mess, with clothes strewn everywhere. I pushed a few shirts off of her beautiful antique vanity but still no sign of the purse. I turned on the overhead light and glanced in the bathroom. Nothing in there either.

  I was about to call Carter Hatley’s cell phone (I knew Mary Lou didn’t have a cell phone) when I glimpsed what looked like a purse next to an open ironing board near the bed. I shifted some of the clothes away from it and success! I carefully searched for her checkbook in the surprisingly neat confines of her purse and fished it out with all the excitement of catching a two-hundred-pound tuna.

  I didn’t want to be in her house without her for any longer than was necessary. As I turned to run back out the door, my gaze fell on a black dress. Suddenly, I felt the slow-motion sensation I usually felt when I found something important.

  The dress was draped across the ironing board, four or five other dresses with it. Immediately the thought hit me: She has a dress just like Miss Elizabeth’s. I put the checkbook on the bed and picked up the dress.

  I was right. The same classic style: black dress with pink hearts, just like the one Miss Elizabeth had been wearing when I found her. It appeared to be made out of the same cotton material and even had the same fluted neckline and puffed sleeves.

  For a few minutes, I stood there looking at it. A thousand thoughts raced through my brain, but I rejected all of them. This had to be some kind of terrible coincidence. It had nothing to do with what happened to Miss Elizabeth. A lot of local women might have a dress like this one if one of the local boutiques had sold it a few years back. It didn’t mean anything.

  As I was telling myself this, the stack of clothes I’d shoved out of the way fell to the floor. Despite the heat outside and decided lack of air-conditioning inside, I felt a chill rush over me. It raised goose bumps on my arms and sent a prickle across the back of my neck.

  Under the pile of clothes was a gray wig, too similar to the way Miss Elizabeth wore her hair for there to be any mistake about it. Despite my reluctance to touch it, I picked it up and studied it.