“You shoulda seen his face runnin’ up and down the halls lookin’ for that damn thing, like it was goin’ to be hidden in a six-inch locker or someone’s book bag,” Benny laughed. “I’ve seen him steal other stuff, too, but that was back in the day. Money out of teacher’s purses.”
I cringed.
“iPods and shit from people,” he went on. “You’d have to jack a bunch of iPods for $25,000.”
I nodded.
“You should come in,” he suggested with a sly smile. “Make Mike’s day.”
I shook my head. “Can’t.” I pointed to Willie as my excuse, but knew I wouldn’t go in anyway.
“Then, maybe me and Sadie can have you up at the house sometime,” he said. “We like doin’ cookouts on the weekends, get e’rybody over, make it like a block party. Beer and burgers.”
I smiled widely and nodded. “Two of my favorite things. I’d love it.”
“You’s good people, book girl,” he told me, holding his fist out to pound mine. I pounded it back.
“Thanks, Benny,” I returned, “And I hope the only dragons you guys ever see are the ones on your arms.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Constructive Waves
Constructive waves are created near the shore and have orderly whitecaps. These waves bring sand and sediment to the beach, building it up in tiny increments. They are the vehicle of progress, the promised deliverers of what the beach needs to keep it sustained, to make it grow.
I woke up Monday morning riding a constructive wave. I’d slept through the night, felt refreshed, and made a long list of to-do’s over my first cup of coffee. The items on the list fell into two main subcategories: 1.) Get store open, and 2.) Solve murder.
Beach Glass could come Wednesday to install my new windows. The first thing under category one was checked off. On to category two.
Uncle Clark answered his cell phone on the fourth ring, and I asked him to help me with some research. “I’m just exercising some curiosity here,” I explained.
“Exercising curiosity is what I do best. What do you want to know?”
“I want to learn all I can about the home robberies in Tipee,” I told him. “Is it possible to round up all the articles that have appeared in your paper?”
“That’s easy. Wrote most of those myself. Anything else?”
“Yes, actually,” I went on. “Should you hear from Lewis today, anything concerning me, could you give me a courtesy call?”
“Uh, oh,” he returned.
“And do you happen to know,” I continued, “How long did Darryl Chambers work for Via? I heard he jumped around jobs a lot.”
“Not sure,” he replied. “Not more than four to six months. Before that, he worked at the Piggly Wiggly. Why?”
“Not sure.” I added some new items to my list.
“Anything else?”
“No, that’s it, for now.”
“Sure, no problem. But, Delilah, one thing,” Clark said.
“Yes, Clark?”
“If exercising your curiosity actually turns into something, can you please tell me about it first?” he asked.
I grinned. “Absolutely.” Uncle Clark asked me to come by the newspapers’ offices by lunchtime so he could give me the file.
Item one under category two was checked off. Back to category one, which meant sweeping up the glass inside the store.
I skipped that one and went back to the murder category. I called Great Uncle Joe. I only had one question for him, but he proceeded, of course, to ask about the status of the store, and I didn’t have the heart or energy to give him all the heinous details.
I answered with, “There’ve been a few kinks, but everything’s going to be fine.” And this seemed to satisfy him. “Uncle Joe, you mentioned that there was another party interested in the bookstore. Who?”
“Not really sure, as it was all done through lawyers,” he admitted, “but I seem to remember the name being something like Avid Corporation. Made a huge offer.”
“Did the lawyers say what these people wanted to do with it?” I tried.
“Nope.”
I wrote down the name of the company and got off the phone as soon as I could. I stared at the name. Avid means keen or enthusiastic. It’s also an anagram for D. Via.
I glanced at my phone to see the time. It was way too early to head to Via’s club and ask him about the offer. So, instead I called Raina, who answered after four rings with a hesitant greeting.
“I’m not sure I should be talkin’ to you,” she said. “Mamma’s declared war.”
“I know,” I returned, “but it’s not about her. I really need to talk to you, and it’s important. Can you come to the bookstore?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I can’t come there.”
“Then, can I meet you? How about the pier?” I offered. Reluctantly, she agreed.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Pieces
Pieces of the puzzles in my life were starting to fit into place, grudgingly. The two categories on my list – get store open and solve murder – were coming together. Progress was being made in ways I didn’t expect (who would ever expect to be working on solving a murder?). Still, my mind drifted.
The pier, at the end, sways ever so slightly under the pressure of the waves hitting against it below. If you close your eyes, you can feel it, like a rocking chair. I shut my eyes, and my vision filled with his kiss and my heart ached. When I first saw you – the very first time… was on the fishing pier. His voice echoed in my head. I couldn’t help but to let a soft smile sneak across my face.
“Delilah?” I looked up to see Raina standing over me. I grinned and patted the seat beside me. She sat down.
“Daydreaming,” I told her. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. What’s this all about?” she asked. Raina and Rachel are both beautiful girls. Perfect beach babes, down to their blond heads and tanned skin. But, Raina’s hair looked pieced and oily today. She wore no make-up, and there were soft shadows under her eyes.
“Darryl Chambers,” I said simply. She gave me a distant, vacant stare.
“What about him?”
“You worked with him at the Piggly Wiggly. Right?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Did you know him well?” I asked again. I recalled that when the family had been horrible after Darryl’s death, Raina had been the only one to stand up with me out of respect for him. Of course, that could mean nothing. Raina had filled her young life with food drives and mission trips. Standing up for others was what Raina did best, next to her art.
“Um, a little bit,” she replied. “He was a bagger for a while, but he got fired.” Her voice cracked, like a boy in puberty.
“What’d he do?”
“Stole money out of my till,” she answered.
“Wow, did you catch him?”
“No, he admitted it,” she replied. “It was when I was on break. Anyway, that was it.”
“You look a little pale. You feeling alright?” I questioned.
“Been under the weather,” she said.
“I hear a stomach thing’s going around,” I offered.
“Maybe that’s it,” she said. “Is there anything else?”
“Well, what else you can tell me about him?” I tried.
She shrugged and fiddled with the unusual pendant around her neck. Her hair flapped in the wind, and her eyes looked empty. “He was okay. I hope they find who killed him because it’s the right thing.” She asked again if I needed anything else, and when I said no, she folded into the crowd and disappeared down the pier.
One thing was clear. Darryl had sticky fingers. Benny described a skilled criminal, but, at the Piggly Wiggly, Darryl was bold enough to go for cash out of a register, and he got caught? I went back to the bookstore and added to my notebook in between cleaning up shards of glass.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Off the Record
President Franklin Roosevelt is attributed
to going on the record with the expression off the record. To a North Carolina newspaper, he related how nice it was to talk freely, without fearing publication. Funny how his talk on the joy of being off the record ended up being printed.
The Tipee Island Gazette sat in a short strip mall near the ferry sandwiched between an insurance agency and doctor’s office. I parked next to Uncle Clark’s black Range Rover. A bubbly blond receptionist named Jeanette greeted me and led me to Uncle Clark’s office. She presented his door Vanna White style. I smiled warmly and walked in.
Uncle Clark’s office was plastered with framed pictures of Tipee. Sea oats against the baby blue sky. A frothy wave cresting. The pilings underneath the fishing pier. A starfish attached to the side of a boat. Sunset.
“These are incredible,” I said. “You took these?”
“It’s a hobby of mine, though I sometimes use them for the paper when we’re desperate.”
“Breathtaking,” I went on. “When I start making some money, maybe I could buy some from you? For the store and my apartment?”
He chuckled. “Delilah, we’re family. I’ll make you some. Now, sit down. Let me give you what I have.” I took a seat in the chair in front of his desk as he flipped through a few manilla folders. He pulled one out, opened it up, and leafed through it.
“I printed out copies of each article we’ve done on the robberies, per your request,” he said, handing over the folder. I opened it up and rummaged through it, just eyeing the headlines.
“This is exactly what I needed,” I said. “Thanks.”
“No problem. It was easy. What exactly are you looking for, off the record?”
I paused, and looked up. “I never thought I’d be in a close relationship with someone in which saying off the record was actually an appropriate and necessary tool,” I commented, grinning. “I don’t know what I’m looking for, honestly.”
“I hear the police are talking to Via. Of course, whenever anything goes awry in Tipee, they always talk to Via. He’s the catchall. But, he doesn’t have an alibi.”
“Darryl must have been killed at 9:30,” I mused, “right when the fireworks were going off. That’s how I would’ve done it. Use the fireworks to hide the gunshot. The bouncers check the perimeter every hour on the hour, so if the killer went through the back door, he would have to make sure not to be seen by one of the bouncers on patrol. Via would, of course, know when the alley would be empty. He had the best access, next to me I suppose. Where does Via say he was?”
“In his office at the club,” Clark replied, “but he was in there a while. No one laid eyes on him for at least two hours. He could’ve easily slipped out, killed Chambers, and come back in.”
“He is sleazy, but I don’t think he did it,” I admitted.
Clark raised an eyebrow. “How come?”
“Because if you kill someone, you’re not going to tell a perfect stranger, like me, how much you hated the guy,” I explained. “David Via didn’t hide his anger toward Darryl. If he had killed him, you would think he would’ve shut up about how much he disliked him.”
“Good point,” Clark said. “People are hardly ever what they seem anyway. Via’s probably like a sheep in wolf’s clothing, you know. He probably goes home at night to an empty apartment, has several cats with names like Mrs. Whoopsy, bakes bread and cupcakes, and likes to read poetry.” I laughed at the image.
“I don’t know about that,” I said, “but it’s a nice thought.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Marlin
Marlins are known for their spear-like snouts and fan-like dorsal fins, both of which distinguish them as mighty catches. Atlantic Blue Marlins can measure close to twenty feet in length and over 1,500 pounds. It’s a marlin that battles Santiago in The Old Man and the Sea, and gives the old man the fight of his life. As any fishermen will tell you, marlins are worth the struggle.
A storm arrived late Monday night and ripped into the island until early Tuesday morning. Destructive waves pounded the shoreline. The electricity flickered. I laid in bed worrying about Henry, wondering where he could be.
In the midst of my storm of worries, my mind switched back to getting the store open, and one thing became abundantly clear. I needed to buy a computer. As much as I wanted to fight against the Nooks, and Kindles, and cell phones, and iPads, to run the business, I needed technology.
So, Tuesday morning, once the rain stopped, I visited the used computer store at The Cotton Exchange, where I was quickly talked into a laptop. A swipe of my credit card, and I had entered the appropriate generation.
Rounding one of the many corners in the labyrinth of hallways in the inside of The Cotton Exchange, I spied Ronnie Chambers. I stopped short and ducked behind the corner. Ronnie lugged an enormous blue and white marlin.
“Holy crap,” I uttered in a whisper. “What’s he doing?”
Ronnie took the marlin into a shop on the left. Two minutes later, he exited the shop, still holding it and crossed the hall to the next shop.
“He’s selling the fish,” I decided. I couldn’t believe it. Ronnie exited the second store, still holding the awkward prize. I bolted from my corner.
“Hey,” I called out to him. “Are you selling that fish?”
Ronnie’s face looked as startled as a ghost to see me, but I didn’t care. He plastered on a mean face. “What of it?” he demanded.
“How much?” I insisted.
“You wanna buy it?” Ronnie asked. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I like fish. I’ll give you $20 for it,” I said, handing him a bill. Ronnie squinted his beady eyes.
“Fifty,” he bit back.
“$25,” I countered. “And I’ll spare you the trouble of lugging that monster all around The Cotton Exchange. There’s precisely four miles of shops, you know, if you stretch it all out.” Ronnie agreed, though irritated, and snatched my money away.
“I can’t believe you’d sell Darryl’s marlin,” I couldn’t resist saying. I shook my head. Ronnie smiled. His teeth were yellow with tobacco stains. “Darryl went through great lengths to get this fish,” I added.
“You don’t know anything, bitch, but I hope it’ll keep you warm on your lonely nights,” he returned, a crooked smile plastered on his face. “If the fish don’t work out, give me a call. We like to keep it in the family.” He disappeared around the corner before I could ask him what he meant, and, confused, I lugged my computer and my new fish back to the Jeep.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Crushing
Destructive waves originate from far out at sea, and are a chaotic mix of spray, caps, and valleys. These smash the beach, moving and pushing the shore with its force. These are the storm-waves that reshape the shoreline and take away more than they give. These are the waves that are crushing.
Teague waited for me, sitting on the stairs leading to my apartment wearing plain clothes and a grim expression. Simultaneously, seeing him was a relief and a stress. Of all the balls I had up in the air, Sam’s felt like a boulder.
“We need to talk,” Teague said. He relieved me of the marlin and followed me up the stairs. “Why haven’t you answered my calls?”
“Been busy.”
“Too busy to let me know you were okay?”
I rolled my eyes and unlocked the door brushing past Willie to set my computer bags on the table. I pointed to the marlin and the computer bag as proof of my activities, and Sam folded his arms. “Bought a computer for the store, finally. And you’ll never guess. This is Darryl’s marlin.”
“Darryl’s marlin?”
“Yes, remember? The one he stole from his principal?”
“Where did you get it?” Teague asked.
I hesitated, like a child suddenly in trouble. “Um, bought it off Ronnie Chambers at The Cotton Exchange. He was trying to pawn it.”
Teague sat down at the kitchen table, rubbing his head. He chuckled sarcastically. “Ronnie Chambers, huh?”
I nodded weakly.
&n
bsp; Sam looked up at me, and said, “What were you thinking?”
“I saw an opportunity-”
“An opportunity to taunt Ronnie Chambers?” Sam returned.
“Well, it doesn’t sound good the way you say it,” I said, “but it seemed right at the time. This fish is a piece of Darryl’s history. I felt inclined to preserve it.”
“At your own risk,” he added.
“I was in a public place,” I explained, growing irritated. “I was safe.”
“And now?” Teague debated. “What about now? What about tonight? What about-”
“Okay, okay!” I cut him off sternly. “I get it. Not one of my better ideas-”
“Speaking of bad ideas,” Sam continued, “who called you the other day when we were at my house?” I gave him a confused look though I knew exactly the one he meant. It’s not like I get a lot of calls, and Jonathan Dekker’s stand out. I crossed over to the sink and fumbled with my coffee pot.
“Don’t remember,” I lied. “Probably Clark.” Teague breathed out heavily. He didn’t believe me.
“Delilah, I want what you want,” Sam said, a bit softer. “I want you to be successful, to be at peace with your past, and move on. But, you won’t even help yourself-”
“What am I supposed to do?” I demanded, turning back around to face him.
“Just be honest,” Sam answered, standing up to me. “Honest with me, and with yourself-”
“You’re lecturing me on honesty?” I stormed back but Sam ignored my words.
“Tell him you never want to see him again.”
“So he can spill all to Lewis, and put me on the hook for the murder?”
“This isn’t about the murder and to hell with the consequences!” Sam yelled. “This is about you!”
“Me?” I shot back automatically. Sam stood just inches from me.
“You don’t have to be defined by your screw-ups.”
“I know that-”
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 22