by Cathy Elliot
“I have those photos too. The man in uniform and the young woman. You might recognize someone from your knowledge of Stony Point history.” Annie placed her hand on the back-door handle. “Don’t let me forget, I may have some new information.”
Ian nodded. “If you are free, we can walk over to The Cup & Saucer for coffee and a chat. Though it’s been busy over there all day.”
“Like a beehive with Queen Peggy running the show.” Annie pulled open the car door and leaned in to retrieve the medals from the backseat.
They were gone.
18
Annie thought she must be seeing things. Or not seeing things. Where were the medals? They had to be there. Frantic, she felt around with her hand, running fingers between the backrest and seat. Not that the case was slim enough to disappear into the depths of the bench seat. Nothing on the floor, either. Annie stuck her hand under the front seat and patted around, hoping.
Could she have taken a wild turn or stopped suddenly and the medals slid across the upholstery, falling between the other door and the seat? Not likely.
“Can I help?” Ian asked, his voice intruding upon her search. And her anxiety.
She backed out of the car doorway, completely baffled. “They’re missing. The medals, the photos, even the file with Grandpa Holden’s military records. Gone.”
“Are you sure?” Ian shifted the box of frames. “Could they be at Grey Gables?”
“Of course I’m sure!” Annie’s voice betrayed the irritation she felt. “I never took them into the house. Obviously, I should have.”
Ian looked concerned. “Annie, this just doesn’t happen in Stony Point. Folks don’t usually lock their doors, even at their homes. We pride ourselves on our honesty.”
“That’s what I’ve always heard.” But she also knew thefts happen every day.
Just not in Stony Point, Maine.
The mayor thought a moment. “Could you have moved them to the trunk?”
She shook her head, adamant. “No. I would have remembered. Besides, I loaded my auction donations into the trunk yesterday and the medals weren’t there.” Annie tried to quell the growing anger inside. Why would anyone want such personal items? And how could she have been so careless? Gram and Grandpa protected those medals for many years. With good reason, she was sure.
Annie had found and lost them in under a week.
“How about I put these frames in your trunk, since it’s empty?” He transferred the weight of the box back to the other arm.
“Oh, sorry.” Annie walked to the rear of the car and popped the latch with her remote key. She opened it and looked into every corner, just to be sure they weren’t there. “It’s not entirely empty, but there’s plenty of room. Thanks for carrying them all this way.”
“No problem.” Ian dropped the heavy box into the space. “There, that should ride home just fine.”
She wasn’t sure what to do next. Should she report the theft to the police? The need to involve them in her previously safe little world made her uneasy. Why would anyone take these particular items--the medals and photos and file?
Were they of any value?
She couldn’t answer that question. Not yet.
“Annie?” Ian had closed the trunk and now stood watching her. “What can I do to help? I’ll be glad to go with you to the police station and fill out a report. Or would you like to get your bearings? Talk about it a little first?”
“I’d rather talk it out, figure it out, if I can. Maybe I’ll take you up on that cup of coffee. But first, let me take another look.” Annie circled the car, opening all the doors and checking under all the seats for the stolen items.
She frowned, biting her lip. Then she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to Ian. “Just needed to satisfy myself that I was thorough.”
They started toward The Cup & Saucer, and then Annie stopped. She spun around, pointed her remote key toward the Malibu, and clicked the doors locked before rejoining the mayor in their trek.
The two walked in silence, Annie running questions through her mind, and Ian apparently respecting her need to do so. The temperature had cooled and a brisk wind carried a briny scent on its breath. By the time they reached the restaurant, they both were craving a cup of something steamy.
They found a table amid the bustling diners. The efficient Peggy had menus in front of them before they even saw her coming. Ian asked for a cup of coffee and as many refills as he was allowed. Annie ordered a tall hot chocolate with a mound of whipped cream on top.
“Comfort food,” she said, a hint of a grin interrupting her gloom.
“I’ll top that,” Ian said and ordered a basket of French fries before Peggy left. “Even more comfort food. To share.”
How could anyone remain glum in Ian’s company? Besides, the day had been mostly delightful up until twenty minutes ago. The auction experience was one she’d never forget. Her new wicker chair had been won at a bargain price, a deal in spite of the broken leg. And reuniting with Kate had gladdened her heart. Annie smiled.
“That’s better,” he said. “Now, Mrs. Dawson, why don’t you tell me what you’ve learned since I saw you last?”
“I’ve learned there are thieves in Stony Point.” So much for her mood switch. Though Annie wanted to focus on the best parts of the day, thoughts of the theft tainted her view.
“As your mayor, I am troubled by that.” Ian pushed his cup over to catch the stream of coffee Peggy poured. “This is not a reputation I ever wanted attached to our town. That’s not who we are …”
Annie sighed, pulling her cup of hot chocolate near. “Maybe it’s just a visiting auction enthusiast. Someone from out of town who took the opportunity to pinch some interesting bits of history.”
“We’ll see, Annie. If I hear a lot of reports of petty thefts from the afternoon’s event, yes, it will indicate someone working the parking lots.”
“Not a Stony Point resident then.”
“Right.” Ian sipped his coffee, frowning a little. “However, if yours is the only theft, it was on purpose. Someone wanted to take them.”
“But no one knew about the medals except Alice,” Annie said. Of course the Hook and Needle Club knew about a World War II item, thanks to Alice’s slip of the tongue at the yarn shop. But they didn’t know about the medals. Maybe another local person did.
Wait. Annie had forgotten about Grace Emory, the Stony Point librarian. Grace knew. And the mayor knew. Annie had told him at the park. She gave him a guarded glance. Then shook off that notion. If ever there was a straight arrow, it had to be Ian Butler.
Maybe she had mentioned it to someone else.
What if it was the real owner of the medals? Suppose he came to claim them at last? But why not just come to Annie and explain his story?
Ian observed her as she considered these questions. “When we met on Wednesday, you’ll recall I had already heard about your World War II mystery in the attic. Perhaps by today the thief had heard about it, as well.”
“That makes sense.” Annie stirred her hot chocolate thoughtfully. “When I saw that the medals were gone, it occurred to me that the mystery was finished. There were no medals to return to their rightful owner.”
“Is that your decision, then? To end your search?” Ian waited for her answer.
After a short silence, she said, “If anything, I’m more determined to find out the whole story. It’s more than curiosity. I’m involved now.”
“Good for you!” He raised his cup in a mock salute. “I’m glad you want to continue the search. Besides, it bothers me to think that one of our residents may have lost something so meaningful. I’d like to see them restored to their rightful owner.”
“I so wish Gram was here to ask …” Annie said, still stirring her drink.
“I’m sure there are many questions you have for her,” Ian said. “Certainly Betsy Holden could clear up this mystery right now.” He moved his coffee to the side. “Good news. Our French fries are here.
”
Peggy placed the basket on their table. “Careful. Hot out of the deep fryer.” She pushed a squeeze bottle of ketchup toward the middle and topped off Ian’s coffee with the other hand. “Anything else I can get you?”
Annie reached for the waitress’s hand, delaying her dash to another table. “Peggy, thanks for arranging the conversation with Kate this afternoon. Things are back to normal, thanks to you and Alice.”
“That is good news,” Peggy said, her expression even more cheerful than before. “So that means we’re back on the case? The whole Hook and Needle Club?” She took a pad and pen out from the pocket of her pink uniform. “I’d better start jotting down suspicious chatter. You never know what you might learn at The Cup & Saucer.”
“I bet,” Annie said. “You’ll get the straight scoop at the next meeting.”
Peggy hurried away to help other customers, and Annie helped herself to a crispy fry. Dipping it into a spot of ketchup and crunching absently, she decided Ian was right. Here was real comfort food. And to her surprise, she did feel comforted. Perhaps it was the food, or the friendship, or both. Her distress began to slip away, making room for the mystery to take its place in her thoughts once more.
“So what have you found out?” Ian asked again. “Let’s have it all. I have plenty of refills left.”
Annie considered the question. “All I’ve uncovered is that Harold Stevens lives at Ocean View Assisted Living. I plan to visit him and find out if he knew Gram or Grandpa. He must have. They were all about the same age. Maybe he’ll have some new information for us.”
“Good idea. If Harold was in the war, he might have known your grandfather back then. Though it’s doubtful that they were on the same ship at the same time.”
“Why not? Couldn’t that happen?” Annie asked.
Ian nodded. “Of course. But I think it’s unlikely. Remember, your grandfather was on the hospital ship, the USS Beneficent. I’ve known Harold for some time and never heard that he had any medical skills.”
“So Harold must have been on another ship.”
“That’s my guess. Or stationed on a base somewhere. Though I’ve never heard him talk about it.” Ian squinted, as if looking for an elusive fact. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen him on a VFW float on Veteran’s Day, either.”
“He must be a very private person.” Annie took another fry. “Right now, if it’s still open, I’d like to stop by the library and see if Grace has anything for me about Grandpa Holden. She did an interlibrary loan request to High Falls, Connecticut, his hometown. Maybe whatever they send will give us a clue.”
Checking his watch, Ian said, “You better get over there. They close early on Saturdays. I’ll walk you part of the way. Then I want to stop by the police station.”
“Oh, please don’t say anything about the theft yet. Maybe the medals will turn up. Probably just some kids playing army or something.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“No. But I’m not ready to go to the authorities. I’ll just lock my car,” Annie said and stood. “And my house.”
“I hate to say it,” he said, standing as well, “but maybe you should.”
Annie knew that Ian’s caution came as a result of his concern, but it affected her like a scene from a scary movie. She shuddered. It would take more than hot chocolate and French fries to make her feel comfortable again in Stony Point.
19
After waving goodbye to the mayor at the corner of Main Street and Oak Lane, Annie power-walked the short distance to the Stony Point Library. Without stopping to admire the noble structure, she pushed past the paned door and hurried into the empty Great Room, heading straight to the circulation desk.
Behind the counter, a fifty-something blond woman looked up from her task, her smile a welcome. Pinned on the lapel of her blue jacket was a gold badge, its engraved black letters reading “Valerie Duffy, Circulation Librarian.”
“I’m sorry to tell you we are about to close.” Valerie looked sympathetic as she pushed up her oversized glasses. She glanced up at the wall clock, meaningfully.
Because time was running out, Annie didn’t waste any. “Is Grace Emory around?” she asked, her gaze sweeping the room.
“Sorry, Grace already left for the day. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Maybe. She did an interlibrary loan request for me on Wednesday, and I’m wondering if she’s received anything back yet.”
“By any chance, are you Annie Dawson?”
When Annie said she was, the librarian pulled a wooden tray labeled “ILL Returns” from a shelf behind the counter. She lifted a manila envelope from the top of a small stack and handed it over.
“Here it is,” she said. “Right on top. I just left you a message on your answering machine, which you can disregard now, of course.”
“That was fast. I’m impressed,” Annie said, examining the envelope. “And pleased.”
“Grace emailed your request to Connecticut to speed up the process.” Valerie said. “And they faxed back all this information to us. A quick turnaround.”
“Please relay my thanks to Mrs. Emory.” Annie’s hands shook with excitement. “I know you’re closing soon. Do I have enough time to glance over these before I go? I don’t think I can wait until I get home.”
“No problem. We have fifteen minutes left. Which reminds me! I have to make the closing announcement. Though there isn’t anyone here but us. And Ted, the security guard. There are empty tables right over there where you can spread your things out.”
The librarian disappeared through a door behind her desk, and Annie quickly found a seat near the entrance. She tossed her purse on a nearby chair. Turning over the envelope, she ripped open the flap, mangling it in her rush to see inside.
Annie drew out a number of papers that appeared to be photocopies of Charlie Holden’s history as a boy and young man in Connecticut. The pages consisted of local articles describing Grandpa’s prowess on the football field, his role in the high school play, graduation photos, enlistment notification, and finally, his wedding announcement.
All interesting stuff, but not much about the war and not a hint about the medals. No surprise, really. So far, the evidence had pointed to Harold instead of Grandpa. Sighing, Annie put the papers back into the envelope and tried to reseal the flap. She gathered her belongings and began to amble out the door. No need to hurry now. Then she stopped.
Beelining back to the circulation desk, Annie’s impatience returned and she tapped her fingers on the Formica countertop, waiting for Ms. Duffy to reappear from behind the door. Over the public address system, Valerie’s clear tones delivered news to no one.
“May I have your attention, please? The library will close in fifteen minutes. Save your work on the computers now; they shut down automatically. If you have materials to check out, please do so immediately. Thank you.”
When Valerie emerged, at last, Annie’s fingernail tapping came to an abrupt halt.
“Grace received great information, but not exactly what I needed.” An understatement, to be sure. “Could I get some help with another search?” With the last-minute drop-by, the nail tapping, and now another request, Annie felt she might be inching over the library etiquette line. Just a bit.
“Sure,” Valerie said, still cheerful in spite of the hour’s lateness. “But we won’t be able to initiate it until Monday morning. Can you stop by then? If we need to do another ILL, we will. But maybe you can find what you need right here.” She waved her arm toward the reference room. “We only have ten minutes. I really can’t stay longer or our security guard goes on overtime.”
Annie realized she’d stepped well over that imaginary etiquette line now. Her search would simply have to wait until Monday. She and Alice had planned to talk to the Veterans of Foreign Wars group then, anyway. However, because the medals had vanished, perhaps they would reconsider the visit.
Before Annie could offer thanks, Valerie slipped through the offi
ce door again. Probably more end-of-the-day announcements to proclaim.
Annie turned toward the exit where Security Guard Ted busied himself locking the door. He held it open for her. “Good night, Miss.”
It had been some time since Annie been called “miss,” but she enjoyed wearing the label one more time. The term contained a genteel spirit she found rather sweet. Just the sort of thing she’d always experienced in Stony Point.
Her walk back to her car was brisk. Purposeful. Wasn’t that the right way to thwart a thief? Recalling an old habit, Annie pulled out her keys and positioned them between her fingers--a weapon to the unsuspecting stalker. It was almost like having a set of brass knuckles, only in her case, it was spiky knuckles, without the Mafia ties.
As she strolled, every step one of fake bravado, she thought how out of place she felt, trying to arm herself against an unknown threat in this dear little coastal town. Someone had broken into her car and taken the medals. But was that all he wanted?
Once safely locked inside Grey Gables with her box of frames and Boots purring on her lap, she called Alice. She must have had plans for the evening; Annie had to leave a message. After giving a brief rundown on the theft, she asked Alice to call as soon as she arrived home, no matter how late. Annie wanted to plot their next strategy. Not so easy without the medals.
Next she called LeeAnn in Texas, needing to hear her familiar voice. Annie, anxious to update her about her first auction experience, began to describe the event.
“You wouldn’t believe it, LeeAnn. There was a woman who bid on all this wonderful wicker furniture and wouldn’t allow anyone else to win even one piece! Wasn’t that rude?”
“So rude. What a wicker-hog.” LeeAnn said, apparently empathizing. “Did you get to bid on anything?”
“I got a whole box of old frames. They all have that thick glass too. I plan to paint a couple to frame the pictures the twins did.”