“I knew you’d want to know about Bellows. He won’t be bothering you again,” Teague said. “I’ll just-”
I shook my head. “That’s just it. He will bother me. I want to see him.”
“You want to see him?”
“Yes, I’d like to see him,” I repeated, grabbing my purse. “Is that okay?”
Teague sighed. “I’ll drive.”
The police station was much quieter at night. A uniformed officer worked the front desk in the lobby, where Teague signed us in. The cubicle room was gray and empty except for a two-person cleaning crew emptying trash cans. Teague knew them both by name and greeted them as we passed by. Downstairs, another officer guarded four jail cells. The lights were low, and the mood quiet. Teague asked to see Bellows, and Officer Tripp gave him a clipboard to sign.
“You bring all your dates to lock-up, Teague?” he joked, eyeing me.
“Shut-up,” Teague replied. “Ms. Duffy is a witness.”
Teague led me down to the third cell where a large lump laid on a cot near the wall. I had no idea what I’d say to him.
“He’s sleeping,” I whispered.
“Right, it’s late,” Teague said. Teague proceeded to bang his keys against the bars, producing a clanging noise. The lump moved. “Bellows, rise and shine. You have company.” The dim lights made it hard for me to see anything but a dark shadow rising from under the wool blanket. I moved behind Teague.
“What do I say to him?” I asked in a whisper.
“Beats me,” Teague replied with a smile. “I’m sure something’ll come to you.” The burly man grunted as he lifted his heavy body from the small bed. I recalled his Frankenstein’s monster-like stature and felt my mouth go dry. What was I thinking?
“I grow old…” he announced, clearing his raspy throat. “I grow old…” He stood up. “I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare eat a peach?” I pulled myself from around Teague’s protective shoulder and closed in on the bars. He took a step toward me. He had the beard and body of an aged biker gang member. He wore a dark overcoat, boots, and knit hat that held his straggly hair in place.
“I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach,” he said, his voice deep and strong. “I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.”
Teague chuckled, “He’s always spouting-” I shushed him quickly.
I said, “I do not think that they will sing to me.”
Henry Bellows smiled. He took a step closer. “I have seen them riding seaward on the waves combing the white hair of the waves blown back when the wind blows the water white and black.” I grinned warmly. Closer, his face was less menacing, gentle blue eyes, a friendly grin. He was in his fifties, I guessed, though he looked weather-beaten.
Together we said, “We have lingered in the chambers of the sea by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown till human voices wake us, and we drown.” I giggled and clapped. Teague looked at us like we were idiots.
“Teague, he knows T.S. Eliot,” I chuckled. “You recited Prufrock beautifully.” He nodded and bowed his head. “I want him out of here, Teague. Now.”
Teague grabbed my arm and pulled me along to a nearby corner. “What the hell?”
“Teague, he’s harmless,” I said with certainty. “I don’t want to press any charges or whatever.”
“You don’t know a thing about him, Delilah,” Teague reminded me. I sighed.
“That poem has significance to me. Call it a nudge.” I tapped Teague’s shoulder softly and went back over to Henry’s cell. He reached for a lock of my long hair and played with the end of it.
“You look like a mermaid,” Henry said. “I’ve seen them, you know, in the ocean.”
“Harmless, but crazy,” Teague whispered. Teague gently removed my hair from Henry’s grasp.
“Crazy I can handle,” I said, grinning.
Chapter Forty-Five
Shades
Just as beaches are unique, so are their sands. With our white North Carolina beach, it’s hard to picture the red, green, or black sands in Hawaii or the pink, yellow, and orange hues of the Gulf Coast. But, sand comes in many shades.
People are shady, too, and getting to the white truth wasn’t so easy. I didn’t know what to believe about anything.
“This is not a good idea,” Teague told me for the millionth time. I sat in the middle, squeezed between Teague and Henry Bellows in Teague’s Toyota pick-up truck. Henry hummed. Teague had done just as I asked, though it had taken a few hours. The skies were still dark, the moon gone, and morning threatened soon. In his lap, Henry Bellows held all his earthly possessions, which he kept in a Dora the Explorer book bag.
“I’m just letting him come in for a while,” I said, again. “Let him get a good meal, get a shower, maybe some sleep. Right, Henry?”
“I know better than to get involved in these domestic disputes,” he grinned.
Back at the apartment, Willie thoroughly checked out our guest. Teague and I took Willie for a walk and hoped to pick up breakfast at Britt’s Donut Shop on the corner. I set Henry up with towels and told him to make himself at home. He thanked me with one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.
“If poetry is the way to your heart, I’ll have to start reading up,” Teague joked as we walked down the alley.
“You don’t have to babysit,” I told him. “I want you to go.”
“And leave you alone with-”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Delilah, let me just ex-”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I cut him off. “I’m done. Nothing in this place is the way it’s supposed to be. The only thing I know for sure is that I’ve been a complete idiot-”
“Only because you won’t believe me,” he interrupted. He grabbed my shoulders and stopped me in the middle of the alley. I folded my arms and tried not to look at him, though I was curious how he could defend himself.
“Yes, Candy offered me $50 to teach you to surf. Said you were her niece and you had this silly crush on me. I pictured some thirteen-year-old townie with pimples and braces. Why else would she have to pay me?”
I raised an irritated eyebrow.
“I tried to say no,” he went on, “but she begged me. Said that if I could do this favor for her, it would finally give her one day of peace. I knew it was wrong, but I agreed.”
“That’s a terrific story, Teague,” I huffed, and then tried to walk away. He stopped me again.
“Just listen, please,” he said. His eyes pleaded with me, and I stood my ground, waiting for him to continue. Willie drifted to the dumpster by the Crab Shack, content with the delay.
“When I first saw you – the very first time – it wasn’t at your grandparents’ house when I came to pick you up,” Teague explained.
“It was on the fishing pier.” A light smile crossed his face. “You were laying on the bench at the end, one knee up, one leg hanging over the side, hair falling down through the slats of wood. You were holding a book up to the sky, reading.”
My eyebrows crinkled.
“I stopped and watched you,” Teague went on, spellbound, “watched your face change as you read over the words, hints of a smile. Then sadness, I think. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, you reading that book. I had to talk to you, but couldn’t for the life of me think of something clever. Never been so intimidated.” He stopped to laugh. “I mean, girl with book. What’s a guy to say?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, looked down at his feet, and then back at me. “I almost came up with something really good, too, but you shut the book and sat up all of a sudden, and then speed-walked down the pier, blew right by without even seeing me.”
“I would’ve noticed-”
He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. I followed you down the pier. You crossed the street, and turned down Starfish. By the time I rounded the corner, you were gone.”
“Ah,” I breathed out calmly, “I remember tha
t. I was in the middle of Wuthering Heights, and Catherine had died, and all of a sudden there was a baby. So, I jumped up, and rushed off to ask Aunt Laura about it.”
“I prayed that I’d see you again.” He smiled. “The best part of our day for me, Delilah, was seeing you come down those stairs. I knew everything else would be perfect.”
I felt a little breathless. “You have to stop.”
“You have to believe me.”
“How can I?” I insisted. “How can I believe anything about you, my family, this place?” My voice fell away, sinking into a murky blend of frustration and exhaustion. Just beyond the alley, across Atlantic Avenue and over the sand and sea, the sun started its rise, casting a warm glow on everything and melting the slight chill of the darkness. The air was filled with the sweet scents of the bakery, and I was weak with hunger – weak with a lot of missing things, I guess.
Sam didn’t speak right away. And I grew impatient. My eyes darted to him, and he held me there with a look of compassion and gentleness.
“You’re right.” His voice was soft and warm, like the sunlight. “Your trust has been trampled at every corner. I won’t let you down like everyone else, Delilah. God brought you back here, back to me. He’ll show you the truth, too. Just try not to hate me in the meantime.”
Tears slipped out, though I tried desperately to hold them in. He just smiled, everything about him rippling with sincerity and truth, and yet my heart was hurting. He tugged me closer, and held me to him softly. And, being tired and vulnerable, I suppose, I let my head rest on his shoulder.
A crash cut through the peacefulness of the early morning. The noise made me jump in his arms. Breaking glass smashed and chinked into what sounded like a million pieces, echoing down the alley. This eruption was followed immediately by a second, similar explosion of glass.
Teague handed me the leash and took off running. He was on his phone before rounding the corner of Beach Read, and at the same time, I could hear squealing tires in the distance.
Willie and I followed. By the time we made it to the apartment stairs, Henry Bellows was racing out, wearing nothing but one of my towels, which barely fit around him.
“We’re under attack!” he announced raising a fist.
We dashed to the front of the store. Henry was right.
Chapter Forty-Six
Lightning
“Marauders!” Henry fumed as we circled to the front. Glass glimmered in the new sun. It covered the sidewalk and sprayed the street. Teague was on his phone, irritated.
The two store windows of Beach Read were shattered. Sections of glass still hung from the tops and corners, but the bulk had fallen, leaving pieces everywhere.
“Henry, get back upstairs,” I ordered. “Your feet.” He nodded, just noticing his bare feet. “And please, take Willie with you.” He accepted the responsibility and left the disaster.
When cloud to ground lightning hits sand, the heat scores the earth, melting the grains together in a split second. Glass tubes called fulgurites are formed, and like the lightning itself, these tubes branch out into beautiful sculptures. Instantaneous art. Beauty formed by violence.
Again, my hopes in regards to Beach Read were shattered. But, like instantaneous art, something beautiful appeared in its place.
The glass crunched under my sandals as I moved in closer. In the first window, I spied a large stone sitting among fallen books and bits of glass.
I reached for it, leaning in.
“Delilah!” Teague yanked me back. A two foot long section of glass tumbled off the top pane and crashed down to the bottom, where my head just was. The glass flew at us, and Teague shielded me. I closed my eyes until the noise stopped.
When I opened them again, I was holding Teague’s arm, grasped around my shoulders. Blood wet my fingers.
“Oh, my God,” I exclaimed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“You’re bleeding,” I informed him. A six-inch cut graced the top of Sam’s forearm and blood oozed and dripped to the ground.
“It’s okay,” he replied. “Not that bad.” A bloody shard, still hanging on to the pane, told me he must have done it when he reached to grab me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m an idiot.” The sirens grew closer.
Sam shook some glass out of my hair, and said, “I don’t even feel it.” I held his injured arm in both of my hands, the blood spilling onto me and passing through my fingers.
“Ask for an ambulance,” I told him, nodding to his phone. He shook his head, but then obeyed, grudgingly.
“Sorry about the store.”
With Teague’s blood dripping onto the pavement, I hardly cared about Beach Read. “Gimme your handkerchief,” I told him. I wrapped it around the wound, as best I could, but it soaked through quickly. I worried about the loss of blood. “Feeling dizzy, yet?”
He snickered. “Only because you’re touching me.”
I allowed a brief smile. I pulled him to the curb, kicked away glass with my shoe, and urged him to sit down. I sat by his side, putting his injured arm in my lap, and applied gentle pressure.
“This isn’t going to do it,” I decided, dropping the red handkerchief to the sidewalk. I pulled off my t-shirt, remembering that I’d worn a camisole underneath, and wrapped it around his drenched arm. For once, I was prepared.
Teague chuckled. “So, that’s what it takes to get your attention?” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that eased its way across my face. “It’s worth it,” he added quickly.
Two police cars arrived, and the officers went about their business. The ambulance came, and relinquished my hold on him. Billy Mott showed up with his camera. The scene was too familiar, except that Teague was hurt.
“Chuck, I’m not going to the hospital,” Teague insisted, sitting against the tailgate of the ambulance. The paramedic huffed.
“You need sutures, lots of them,” Chuck replied, carefully eyeing the gash.
“Don’t be a dick, Teague,” the other medic said, coming around the side of the truck. He wore a baseball hat to hold back his mass of dirty blond hair. His nametag read Jake Nelson. “Won’t take long.”
Teague laughed. “Yeah, right. Just wrap it up. I’ll take care of it later.”
“What do you mean?” I cut in. “You have to have it sewn up or it won’t heal. Why are you being stubborn?”
“Delilah, it’s a cut,” Teague insisted, “I’ve had worse. Besides, Aunt Bev’s a nurse. She can sew it up.”
I rolled my eyes and shrugged. Jake and Chuck had the same reaction I did, but still Chuck cleaned the wound, and wrapped it over and over with gauze.
“Ms. Duffy, we’ve collected the rocks,” an officer said to me.
“Anything special about them?” I asked before he could continue.
“No, ma’am. Just two ordinary rocks,” he said. “Know of anyone who might take such an action against you or your property, ma’am?”
I glanced over at Teague and laughed. Teague chuckled and shook his head. “No, no one at all, Officer,” I lied because it was easier.
“The photographer’s done. We’ll get the glass on the street and sidewalk cleaned up, and take down the tape. The rest is up to you. You’re going to need to board up those windows as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” I said nodding over at Teague, “but first, I’m taking him home.”
The drive to Teague’s house was quick and quiet. We were exhausted. Despite the easy look on his face, he was in pain. The gash was still bleeding. The gauze seeped with red. I pushed the accelerator down heavily.
“Don’t want to get a ticket,” he grinned.
“I think I have some assurances against that,” I returned.
Aunt Beverly was still in her nightgown, fixing coffee when we arrived. At the sight of all the blood on our clothes, she gasped. Then, seeing Teague smile, she shook her head and pointed to the kitchen. In just a few seconds, she had an impressive first aid kit laid out on t
he table and was washing her hands.
“You know, Sammy, there’s going to come a time when you aren’t going to want this old lady sewing up your cuts,” she mused. “My hands aren’t what they used to be.”
“Ah, they’re fine,” he argued. She walked over and used a pair of scissors to cut off the soaked gauze.
“Oh, my word,” she choked. “You shoulda gone to the hospital for this one.” She asked him how he did it. I took the liberty of explaining.
“I encouraged him to go, but he’s stubborn,” I finished.
“He hates hospitals,” she informed. She sat down next to him and prepared her items. Teague leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Aunt Bev, come on,” he scolded. “Let’s not get into that.”
“Took him to the emergency room when he was eight years old. He’d jumped from the bow of the boat to the driveway. Sprained his ankle,” she continued.
“Please,” Teague cut in, “don’t-”
“And he threw an absolute hissy fit in the parking lot,” she explained anyway. “All I wanted to do was get him an x-ray, make sure it wasn’t fractured. Couldn’t even get him in the door.”
“Sam Teague, afraid of something?” I said with a soft smile. “I can’t imagine.”
“I’m not afraid,” he insisted. “Just can’t stand them. And I’m bleeding to death here, so could you please just get to it?”
Like lightning hitting the sand, I did something unexpected. I held onto Teague’s free hand. With every push of the needle into his skin, his fingers tightened and face clenched. Still, he smiled when he looked at me.
Simultaneously, it was the best and worst feeling. Teague being hurt and having to go through this pain because of me made my heart sink. And yet, my anger washed away. I somehow knew that this injury or worse he would have gladly accepted on my behalf if given the choice and he did. Didn’t he?
“When we’re done, I’ll help you clean up the glass,” Teague told me.
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 20