“No, no,” I returned. “You’re getting some sleep. Can you give him something for the pain?”
Beverly nodded. “Will do.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Well, I’m going to call Damon to get my windows boarded up,” I explained, and looking down at my clothes, went on, “and take a long hot shower. I look like I just walked out of a Stephen King novel.” Teague chuckled and winced again as Beverly inserted the needle. “And then I’m going to bed,” I lied. “I’m dead on my feet.”
My phone chimed to life. I fumbled to answer it with my free hand. Teague held tightly to my other.
“I bet you were just thinking about me,” Jonathan said, his voice smiling.
“Nope.” I sat with Teague getting his arm sewed up, blood oozing, and still I felt more nauseated by Jonathan’s voice. “What’s up?”
“Becker called. He’s back in town and plans on being at work tomorrow first thing,” Jonathan reported.
“Okay.”
“I’ve already deleted the messages from Lewis,” Jonathan added, “but if he calls when Becker’s there, then there’s nothing I can do-”
“Appreciate it,” I cut in. Jonathan chuckled. Teague eyed me curiously.
“You can show your appreciation Labor Day weekend,” Jonathan reminded me.
I sighed. “I have to go.” I clicked the phone shut before Jonathan could protest.
I left Teague as soon as the pain medications started kicking in, and Beverly told me that all he’d do is sleep the rest of the day. Walking to the Jeep, the heat of the sun burrowing into my bare shoulders, all the events leading up until now circulated in my head like a whirlpool.
The snakes. The petition. The clippings. Darryl’s death. My newspaper debut, and the endless accusations. The stings of my past. Broken windows, and Teague’s bloody arm.
So far, I’d been the sand. Now, I was ready to be the lightning.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Pipsqueak
A quick shower and a few phone calls later, I was on my way to Shawsburg. Everything came down to this – in order to salvage any part of a life here, business or otherwise, I needed to clear my name to protect my past and secure my future, and I had very little time to do it. But, I had a plan. God was all for it because He handed me a gem on my way to carrying it out.
On the ferry, I parked behind a large green pick-up truck filled with junk. I got out of the Jeep, after making sure Willie’s leash was securely tied to the roll bar.
I strolled by the junk-loaded truck, and was surprised to hear someone call out, “Hey there, missy!”
Lenny Jackson emerged from the driver’s seat, with a wide smile and gleaming head. I said hello, and he followed me to the front of the boat, where the ferry winds whipped through us, keeping us cool.
“Headed to town for some shoppin’?” he asked.
“I have a few errands,” I returned. “You?”
“Gotta truck load of goodies to sell to some other flea markets there. Sometimes I got so much junk, I don’t know what to do with it all.”
“Where does it come from?”
“Well, I don’t tell a lot people this,” he started, leaning in, “but my mamma, God rest her soul, was a mental case. She had whole rooms filled floor to ceiling with junk. So, when she died, well, I figured I could sell it all off piece by piece, the same way she got ahold of it in the first place.”
“Oh, I’m really sorry to hear about that,” I told him. He shrugged.
“That’s life, you know,” he noted wisely.
“Thanks so much for calling the police for me about the intruder.”
“No problem,” he said.
“They caught him,” I informed. “Just a homeless man looking for shelter. But, you never know these days, especially considering the murder.”
“Well, you’re more than welcome, honey. That’s part of my job,” Lenny grinned.
“Were you friends with Darryl?” Asking questions about Darryl Chambers had almost become too natural.
“Worked with the boys at the club,” he returned.
“Any theories about the murder?”
Lenny shrugged, and looked thoughtful. “Well, everybody at work liked him pretty good, except for the ruffians he had to deal with.”
“What about his brother?”
“Oh, you mean Pipsqueak,” Lenny chuckled. “That’s what I call him.”
“That word is roughly a century old,” I told him futilely, “and it’s supposed to mimic the sound of a weak animal.”
He grinned widely. “Then it fits Pipsqueak just fine. He’s alright, except being kinda lazy. ‘Course, Via fired him at the club, so I don’t know what he’s doing anymore.”
“I’m not surprised. Via hated both of them,” I added.
“Well, Via’s got all kinds of hate for everybody,” he went on. “I heard talk that he was interested in buying your building.”
My eyes jutted up to the middle of my forehead. “My building?”
Lenny nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. I’m not sure how all that legal stuff works, but one day I overheard Via talkin’ with his lawyer at the bar.”
“What’d they say?”
“Well, Via was asking the lawyer about offers and counteroffers or whatever,” Lenny went on, “and the lawyer was spitting out all these numbers at him and then Via mentioned something about Clara Duffy-Saintly. The suit said that Ms. Duffy-Saintly would have the obvious advantage, being family, but that Via would definitely have the more lucrative offer, somethin’ like half a mill. The lawyer was talking something about disguising the offer, like not using Via’s name. I’m not sure about all that.”
“My Great Uncle did say there was another party interested,” I remarked. “Why would Via want Beach Read?”
Lenny shrugged. “Dunno. Be nice to have a larger parking lot, maybe.”
Though it didn’t seem plausible that Darryl was killed for the sake of a larger parking lot, I turned over what Lenny revealed the rest of the way to Shawsburg. It was compelling to learn about Via’s offer on the building, but I was also hung up on Pipsqueak. Ronnie Chambers didn’t seem like a weak animal to me, not the way he intimidated me twice. Perhaps he was tougher than everyone thought.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Busted
The Atlantic Ocean is devoid of snakes, but North Carolina is filled with them, both the real and human kind.
Freddy Weaver’s snake farm was really just a huge plot of land against a swamp. A double wide trailer and three feeble sheds comprised the base of operations. Two broken down trucks decorated the landscape, and a third, closest to the house, seemed to be the only working vehicle as it wasn’t surrounded with weeds.
Mr. Weaver, a tall, spindly man wearing a dirty t-shirt, jeans, rubber boots, and a wide smile, greeted me as I exited the Jeep. I held my wallet in my hand, expecting that information from this man would cost me. Willie barked his disapproval that I made him wait in the car.
He said, “What can I do you fer?”
I smiled. “Are you Freddy Weaver?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I sighed. “Good, then I’m where I should be. Where are the snakes?”
“You interested in a snake?” he replied. “Got some dandys!”
“No, I mean,” I started, “They’re like caged, right?”
“Oh, yes ma’am,” he replied. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Ain’t nothin’ goin’ to happen while I’m around.”
“Well, Mr. Weaver, that puts me at ease,” I returned with a heavy breath. “I’ve dealt with enough snakes lately to last a lifetime. My store was vandalized with about twenty or so dead snakes of various species – black, copperhead, water moccasin. I need to know who did it, and I’ve been told that you are the only snake guy within fifty miles.”
“Anybody can get snakes-” he argued.
“With all due respect, Mr. Weaver,” I interrupted. “It’
s highly unlikely that someone would have the time, determination, and ability to individually track down so many snakes, dead ones, of various species and collect them so ably just for the soul intention of giving me the creeps.”
He folded his arms across his bony chest and cocked his head.
I started again, “What someone would do, however, is think of something creepy and then hire a guy who could either provide the snakes or wouldn’t mind doing the deed himself.”
“You’re talking a bunch of foolish nonsense!” he bit.
“No, Mr. Weaver, I’m sure I’m not,” I argued, keeping my cool. “You came in to Tipee that day and left a few hours later in that truck,” I pointed to the truck behind him. “The ferry captain confirms it.”
“I ain’t gotta tell you nothin’,” he retorted. “You think I’m goin’ tell you any different than that blasted cop that kept callin’ me?”
“It could be your lucky day, Mr. Weaver, because I’m not a cop. Whatever fee you collected from your employer, I can match it. All you have to do is give me a name.”
“I ain’t fallin’ for that trick,” he countered. “Now, I want you to carry your ass off my property.”
“Wait, Mr. Weaver,” I squeaked out. “Please. I’m desperate.”
“I don’t care if you’re-”
“Daddy?” a voice cooed from the home. I glanced over his shoulder to see a lovely little girl, dressed to the hilt, bounding down the stairs. She giggled, twirled, and skipped over to where we stood, beautiful smile on her face.
“Hi,” I greeted. I came down to her level. She beamed at me. “What’s your name?”
“Olivia,” she answered. “I like your hair.” She reached for my long dark tresses and fiddled with them in her fingers.
“And I love your hat,” I grinned. “Could I see it?”
“Olivia, get back in the danged house,” her father attempted weakly, but my attention won out. She handed me the hat. It was hot pink with a large rim decorated with a fancy boa, purple beads, and white daisies.
“I asked the lady to make me a Fancy Nancy hat,” Olivia explained.
“It’s beautiful,” I remarked. “I love it.” I handed it back to her, and glanced up at her father. He shoved his hands in his pockets. I opened up my wallet, and showed Olivia a picture of the Duffy family. We’d taken it last Christmas on Grandma Betty’s deck.
I pointed at the picture and she looked. “There’s you!” she smiled.
“Yep, and where’s the lady who gave you the hat?”
With a giggle, as if we were playing a fun game, she pointed to Aunt Charlotte.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Order and Method
Once I found the congested area of Shawsburg again, I parked at a coffee shop. I sat against the window and pulled out a small notebook and pen from my purse. I guzzled down my Big Gulp-sized coffee, mind already racing.
Agatha Christie created detectives, some out of ordinary people. Her two most famous were Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot. Poirot is my favorite. I enjoy reading about the inner workings of his little gray cells. Poirot solved his cases through order and method, and I knew that I needed to apply both of those now, as much as I could with no sleep and minimal skills. In Evil Under the Sun, Christie wrote, “To count – really and truly to count – a woman must have goodness or brains.” Since goodness was in short supply, I figured I better count on my brains to get me through.
I wrote down everything I knew about each event at the store in order. For the snake prank, I was able to fill up the page and at the end write, in bold letters, Aunt Charlotte.
It made sense that Clara and Charlotte would choose snakes to scare me. I didn’t go in Grandpa Charlie’s garage for two years after spotting a black snake stretched out under his john boat. My screams upset the neighbors and ruptured the foundation. I was eight years old, and sometimes they still bring it up. Since Charlotte had arranged the first deed, I considered that they had done all of them – the articles taped on the storefront and the broken windows.
But, murder?
Darryl Chambers flooded my mind. I started a page just about him, writing down everything I’d learned about him since I arrived in Tipee. My phone rang, and without even looking, I answered it.
“Where are you?” Teague asked, irritated.
“I’m out,” I answered, simply. I glanced out the window and spied a short strip mall. Tucked between a Subway and a Fashion Bug, there was an Army Recruitment Center. I stood up, and gathered my things.
“I can see that,” he replied. “What are you doing?”
“I’m right in the middle of something,” I said quickly. “Are you feeling better?”
He sighed. “I’m fine.”
“Look, I’m not far. I’ll be back. I have to go.” I clicked the phone shut, leaving him no chance to argue.
The Army Recruitment Center looked like a normal set of offices except for an enormous television set mounted to the far wall. A violent video game demoed, and the sound of rapid machine gun fire took me by surprise. The office section reminded me of the dealership where I bought the Jeep – standard cubicles with desks, chairs sitting in front, computers, phones – nothing to write home about, except that the gentlemen at the desks were wearing military uniforms.
A man in beige army dress clothes approached with his hand fully extended. He was tall, my age, with a slightly receding hairline, and bulgy eyes. His nametag read Marcus.
“I’m Jeremy Marcus. Thanks so much for stopping by today,” he greeted with a little too much enthusiasm for my taste. He gripped my hand like he didn’t want to let go.
“I’m looking for some information about-”
“Well, I’m sure I can answer any questions you have,” he cut in. “Why don’t you come right over here and have a seat?” I obeyed, hesitantly.
He pulled up something on his computer and then glanced over at me. “So, tell me your name.”
“Wait,” I said. “I’m not here to join anything. I’m here to inquire about a friend of mine who may have come in recently.”
“Are you a college graduate?”
“Yes.”
“You could enter as an officer,” he sang. “Good pay. Great benefits. Have you ever just wanted adventure in your life?” He smiled widely.
“Is that what you have? Working here?” I asked. His smile fell. “Did you happen to meet with a man named Darryl Chambers? Twenty-one years old from Tipee Island?”
Jeremy Marcus rolled his eyes and huffed. “Yes, didn’t even have to give him my usual spiel, all he asked for was a letter, and then he pulled a no show. Do you know him?”
“He’s dead,” I informed.
“Oh, well, that explains it then.”
“Did you offer him a signing bonus to join?” I tried.
“No,” Marcus said shaking his head. “He would get a small bonus once he made it through basic, but nothing upfront. He hadn’t even been to college.”
“Did he give you any reason why he wanted to join?”
“Said he wanted to get his life in order, and I assured him that the army was the place to do it. That’s a shame. He was going to make an excellent soldier, had great skills. Not everyone can handle it, you know, the rugged adventure of it all.”
Marcus chuckled a bit, leaning back in his chair, “You have this rawness about you – this beautiful strength, like a steel magnolia. You, I bet, could handle just about anything.”
I took my steel magnolia ass out of the office.
Chapter Fifty
Dragons
“So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their ending,” wrote J.R.R. Tolkien, and my favorite dragon, Smaug, was from his tale, The Hobbit. Dragons entice and repel us and have long been a part of mythology and literature. Dragons are that which we must face, obstacles that build us up and make us stronger. In the end, we’d be nothing without our dragons.
I think of dragons because I was staring at one.
; I’d arrived home a little after eight and immediately taken Willie down the alley for a walk. He’d been a good passenger all day and needed to stretch his legs. At the end of the block, I spied the dishwasher outside the back door of the Crab Shack smoking a cigarette. His large arm donned a brilliantly colored dragon.
“I’ve seen that tattoo before,” I told him.
He had a cheshire cat smile. “Me and my lady has matchin’ ones,” he told me.
“I’ve met her,” I said, stepping over to him. “Miss Sadie.”
“That’s her,” he replied, flicking the cigarette into a puddle. “I’m Benny.”
I introduced myself, but he said, “I know all about you. Boss man can’t stop talkin‘ about you, and neither can my Sadie. You the one who said all that stuff about being royalty?”
I rolled my eyes. “Guilty. Sometimes I talk too much.”
“She’s been going on and on ‘bout it ever since,” he said. “You wouldn’t think a beautiful queen like her would get down ‘bout herself, but she does. You said some nice things, and that’s made all the difference.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
“She told me you was askin’ about Darryl Chambers,” he went on, his face more serious. He lit a second cigarette, and tilted the pack to me. I shook my head.
“Yes,” I admitted. “Did you know him well?”
He shrugged. “Played football together. Used to keep his ass safe from gettin’ tackled.” He grinned at the memory, and then straightened back up again. “You should know that Angel ain’t no angel. She was going with Darryl for a while. Then messed around with Ronnie ‘cuz he gave her all sorts of presents. Girl a gold digger, you know. Still messin’ with Ronnie some, but she’s gettin’ bored with ‘em.”
“Where might Darryl get $25,000?” I tried.
Benny shrugged. “He hated drugs, but he’s good at stealin’.”
“Yeah, I heard about Ellis’ marlin,” I offered.
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 21