by Susan Lyttek
“Who would kill Mr. William?” Justin asked. “He seemed like a nice guy.”
That was Justin-speak for: since he bought me something I liked, he wasn’t too bad.
“I don’t know,” I said. “And I don’t know that I want to know.” I put an arm around Justin’s shoulders as we looked up at the dark tree.
Sometimes an ornament sparkled when daylight reached it, but overall, the huge evergreen loomed over us like a ghastly shadow of what Christmas might-have-been. And the presents under the tree seemed like the empty wrapped boxes you’d see under a display tree at the department store—a lot of promise, but no substance.
All in all, I felt sad and a little bit robbed. This was not how Christmas was supposed to go. And then all the grieving, hurting people around us, too? “Your dad and I will make it all up to you and Josie when we get home.”
Justin looked up at me as if I had lost my marbles. “What? The bad stuff isn’t your fault. How could you change it or plan for it? And the fun stuff was really cool. I can’t wait to tell my friends about how Miss Margo got her Christmas tree delivered.”
Josie had joined us without my noticing. “And, Mom, I get to use my sleuthing skills again. Not that I wanted Mr. William to die. He seemed nice enough. At least to me. But you have to figure that something he did or something he knew made someone want to kill him.”
“What did I do to deserve such wise children?”
The comment netted me a hug from Josie and a smirk from Justin. “I don’t know, Mom. I guess God just decided to send His best your way for situations like this.”
I’d have punched his shoulder if I didn’t think it was the truth.
****
James and Captain Blake opened the door and blocked it with a rock before they came in lugging the still form of William. James had asked Margo earlier where in the house would be the best location to lay him until the authorities could reach the island. She had directed them to an unused bedroom at the far end of the east wing.
As they carried him in, everyone quieted. A combination of fear, respect for the dead, and the stillness of shock took the words away from everyone.
Aimee looked as if she might fall apart, scream, or run away. Frank could see it in her so he took her and one of the larger chairs over by the fireplace.
I had to admire my brother’s wisdom. If I were Aimee, I’d appreciate his insight into how I felt. I knew my brother was an amazing catch. Maybe someone else had finally recognized that as well.
After they came back from William’s temporary resting spot, Anne asked Mary to take her back there to see her boy.
“Not without me,” Margo announced. The glare that went between Anne and Margo could have cut a diamond.
“Very well,” murmured Anne. I think the loss made her more demure than her norm.
So Dad escorted the still-weak Margo back to see her deceased nephew.
And Mary escorted her grieving aunt.
I plopped on the couch. Why did these crime things happen when I was exhausted? Or maybe the better question was why did murder and sleepless nights seem to go hand in hand? At least I supposed it was murder. I imagined William could have had a heart attack or some other major medical thing go wrong that would have killed him, but he had seemed so young and healthy that I rather doubted it. And in light of the attack on Margo and the intruder last evening, it seemed a bit of a stretch to think William could have died of natural causes.
I slid back against the cushions, grateful for the gazillionth time that I’d thought to pack a jacket. I only wished my winter coat wasn’t locked in our car back in Virginia Beach. I put my hands into my pockets just to stay warm. As I did it, I felt the crinkle of paper. I couldn’t believe that I’d totally forgotten about the parchment I’d removed from the old palm tree. I pulled it out and looked at it.
It made no sense.
The piece of parchment was much smaller than the scroll we’d unearthed in the cellar yesterday. It was a nearly perfect square. At the top, neatly centered, was a large W. I could assume that stood for West, but it could mean anything. Just below that and off to the right was a round, yet bumpy squiggle. Maybe it was meant to represent a tree or a bush? It could even be a lake for that matter, depending on the scale. From just left of the right corner to midway down the page was a crescent-shaped line. The bottom right corner was cut off from the rest of the pictures and letters by a thick straight line. The area in that triangle was filled with parallel wavy lines. In the midst of the wavy lines was a square with a star in it.
Mostly centered, but slightly off to the right was a large square, with a star to its right. In the upper left corner were the initials HLEF and below them PS 136: 4-9. Below those initials was a skull and crossbones made of purple flowers. Near the bottom on the left were two tall upside down U’s set in something that looked as if it represented grass. All told, there were five stars on the paper. Obviously, the square was a code of some sort. The only thing that made any sense to me was the PS 136 which had to refer to Psalm 136.
“What do you have there, Mom?”
With all the events going on, Josie’s antennae were already vibrating. To see me sitting on the couch studying something meant it must be important.
“I’m not sure.”
She jumped up next to me and leaned in. For several moments, she studied it, angling her head this way and that. “Can I hold it?”
I agreed. “Be careful, though. Just hold it on the edges. We have no idea how old it is.” Carefully, I transferred the small parchment to my young detective’s hands.
She held her breath for several moments while she had it close to her face, turning it this way and that. With the square in one hand, she touched it gently at the corner with an outstretched forefinger. Then, handing it back to me, she relaxed.
“It has to be a map,” she pronounced. “And somehow it is connected with the scroll we found yesterday.” She was so confident. So sure of herself.
“And why do you say that, sweetie?”
“Which part?”
Did it really matter? I guess to her it did. “Well, start with how you know it’s related to the scroll.”
She kicked her feet against the couch. She couldn’t reach the floor with her feet when she sat back on this couch. But even when she could, her feet and legs often had a mind of their own when her brain puzzled out something. It was one of the little things that made me glad that I homeschooled. In regular school, her fidgeting to solve a complex problem would be discouraged because it might distract some of the other students.
“That’s the easiest part, Mom. They’re both the same kind of paper, or whatever it is. It’s thicker than what we use by a lot. It’s also not as smooth, yet it feels soft when you touch it. That’s enough traits in common to link the two of them. Or,” she admitted, “at least that’s what it would say in one of my Nancy Drew stories.”
The last two times we’d been drawn into a mystery, Josie had quoted from and applied Nancy Drew logic. I had yet to find fault with any of it.
“OK, now tell me the other part. How do you know it’s a map?”
The word “map” must have acted like a radar call for Justin because he bounced over and snatched the paper out of my hand. He wasn’t anywhere as careful with it as his sister had been and she took issue with it.
“Justin! That’s old! Give it back to Mom.”
“Oh, OK.” He handed the paper to me and then pulled a miniature soccer ball out of his pocket and began to throw it up and catch it with the same hand.
Both of my kids had been stuck inside too much today and without friends or any of their usual distractions.
Justin could only play his hand held game so long. “Josie can tell it’s a map,” he said, “because it looks like something straight out of one my pirate adventures.”
“Really?” I asked Josie.
She nodded. “See the W at the top, that has to be west.”
I had thought that
initially. “But don’t most maps have N at the top for north?”
“Well, yes. But if it’s hard to orient to north, the map might choose one of the other cardinal directions. If you look at the area that would be to the north on the map, it’s mostly water. Maybe the person who drew this found that distracting.”
Water, she said. I looked at the wavy lines. I guess it could be water. “I’ll give you that those lines might mean water. So why else do you say it’s a map?”
“Because,” she said, matter-of-factly, “I recognize part of it. I think it’s this island.”
I would have asked for more details, but just then, the three Banet women and my father came back into the great room. They were arguing, especially Margo and Anne, so loudly that they announced their arrival before they walked in.
I pointed to the square and put a finger to my lips so that both the kids would get what I meant. Then I slipped the paper back into my pocket and zipped it shut. I’d pick their brains on it later.
“You shouldn’t have touched anything!” Margo was yelling. Funny, how quickly the ladylike manners had evaporated when we came to her home territory. “He’s still part of a crime scene!”
“But he’s my boy,” Anne protested. “I had to give him something to remember me by.”
“It didn’t look like you were giving him something,” Margo said. “It looked more like you were trying to find something.”
“Ladies,” my dad interrupted trying to calm both of them down. “We have more important things to consider now. Margo, if she took something from William, the authorities will find out when they arrive. Anne, if you were simply trying to leave a memento for William’s burial, that could have been done at a better time. I do, though, understand why you would want to.”
I rose from the couch to greet the others. Something in what my dad had said had sent the alarm bells off. “What more important things do we need to consider now, Dad?”
But my father didn’t answer. Mary did. Staring at her smart phone, she grimaced. “Last night was just a warm-up. The worst of the storm is heading our way in a couple of hours. I got through to the mainland about what had happened here, but there’s nothing they can do. As soon as it blows by, they promise to send us both medical and law enforcement help. But before that, we need to prepare. In fact, we probably should get busy boarding up the windows. The great room is still the safest place on the island, all things considered.”
I didn’t intend for them to, but the words escaped my mouth of their own accord. “Another storm! On Christmas Day! It just isn’t fair.” As soon as I heard my voice saying that, I felt about Justin’s age. I was throwing my own little temper tantrum. I regretted that my emotions had spoken before my brain had a chance to engage. Just looking at the expressions on the faces of everyone in the room chastised me enough.
“Jeanine…” my dad cautioned.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” I went to the other side of Margo. I figured acting an apology out was better than just saying it. Dad was on her injured side, helping her baby it. “Let me help you to the couch so you can get comfortable again. And then I’ll ask Mrs. Smith to make you something special.”
“Thank you,” she said. All the prim and proper and ladylike demeanor came back in full force when I offered to wait on her.
Well, I guess that was better. At least, that way we could all talk to one another. We would need to communicate and work together while we prepared for round two of this storm.
Once I got Margo settled, I took Josie back into the kitchen with me. She had started taking German at the G-SEFH co-op. I thought the woman might like to hear a little of her native tongue. Because even though James and I had met not too far from Frankfurt, I only knew the phrases for “hello,” “goodbye,” “how much,” and “where’s the bathroom.”
“Mrs. Schmidt,” I called as we entered. “Miss Margo would like a little refreshment. And then I’ll help you do whatever you need for the rest of the day’s food.”
“Nonsense, Liebling. I have Juliana. We can certainly feed the few people in the house.”
I would have to find a way past the staff versus management attitude. And the storm was the perfect way to do so. “I don’t doubt you could. But the power’s still out and another storm is coming. So whatever needs to be done, should be done quickly. With Josie and me helping, you can make sure that whatever people need to eat until tomorrow morning has been prepared and safely stored or set out for people to help themselves. And while we work, you can do me a favor. Josie has been studying German and needs to practice.”
Mrs. Schmidt came over to Josie and formally stuck out her hand. “Wilkommen zu meiner Küche, Josie.”
Josie shook it with all seriousness. “Dankeschön, Frau Schmidt. Was möchten Sie machen?”
They went off talking ingredients and preparation steps in German. Every once in a while, Josie would pause for quite a while. Then she’d ask, “Wie sagt man das?” and point at something she didn’t know how to say.
Soon, the four of us were busy assembling sandwiches, brewing massive quantities of coffee, as well as heating water for other uses, cutting finger fruits and vegetables, and assorted other things. It amazed me how much hot food could be prepared on the top of the stove.
Juliana was even using a frying pan to make fresh bread.
It was peaceful in the kitchen.
James came in a couple of times to check on us and to say that he, Frank, Justin, Captain Blake, and to a more limited level, Charlie and Dad, were doing their best to board up all the windows. They’d also gone out by the cellar and brought in more of the wood for the fire.
What I liked best was that anytime James came in to give us an update, I got a kiss. Those presents made it seem more like Christmas.
Dad couldn’t help the guys as much as he would have liked to because he had to run interference between the Banet women more often than not.
My poor father. He had no idea what he was getting into when he fell for Margo.
8
The winds of the storm began to howl almost an hour before the thunder, rain, and lightning came in all their fury.
I was grateful we were inside and sheltered.
The four of us who had done kitchen duty, had moved all the efforts of our labor to the sideboard at the back of the great room. We put the kettles of coffee over alcohol burners. But if those used up their fuel before the storm ended, I’d be drinking cold coffee. The rest of the food we had prepared was designed to keep for a long time at room temperature. We had most of the platters covered with plastic wrap. People could unwrap a plate as the other trays got used up. Plus there were tons of Christmas cookies of various flavors and shapes that Frau Schmidt had made well in advance of our visit.
No one would starve during this storm. At least not in this house.
However, I don’t think people were thinking about food as the wind and wave attacked. I knew, from the storms and hurricanes the manor had weathered in the past, that I was as safe as I could be. But as the building creaked in the force of the gale, I still worried.
God, I prayed. I know You are in charge of everything. This storm has not escaped Your notice or Your power. Watch over us.
One flash of lightning was so close that its glow came through the slats. I happened to follow the angle of light. It hit the shark hanging above the fireplace. The gleam of light made the shark seem alive again, and ready to attack. “Just come a little closer,” the eyes seemed to say. “You do, and I’ll do to you what I did to Margo.”
How creepy.
“Did you see that?” James whispered, elbowing me.
“Yes. It seemed like a sign or something. As soon as we can, we need to look more into the shark attack on Margo. I have a feeling that ties into everything.”
James agreed. “Didn’t William harpoon that shark for Margo?”
“Yes, he did. So obviously, he knew the sharks and understood their habits. And Margo blamed him for h
er accident…” I leaned into my hubby.
Across the room, I could see our two huddled over Justin’s game system, trying to ignore the storm, the fighting women, and the definite lack of Christmas. It was so cute to see them together. They might fight, argue, pick on each other and generally, act like brother and sister, but when they were the only kids around, they supported each other and actually seemed to like each other.
I hoped that when they were all grown up they would continue to get along well—not like the sisters-in-law in this very room.
But perhaps Anne had gotten along well with her brother, Margo’s deceased husband, Mark Banet, and she just didn’t like his choice in wives. What was the ill-will between Aimee’s father, another Banet relative, and Margo? What history could drive these family members so far apart?
****
The people huddled in the great room stayed quiet during the deluge. They conversed in low tones. The rolls of thunder silenced any conversations that did go on.
After about an hour of the storm, Justin must have gotten tired of playing the game. He had actually left it in Josie’s hands. Maybe she had programmed the mystery game that her brother had brought for her occasional amusement. Anyway, he had gone over to Charlie and was talking with the older man.
Then Justin brought Charlie over to us. “Mom, I told Charlie about the map. Can you show it to him?”
“Justin!”
Charlie put a hand on my arm. “Go easy on the boy, ma’am. I asked if he figured out anything else about the scroll. And I could tell when he got quiet that he knew something, so I pried.”
I brought the map out of my pocket. James hadn’t even seen it yet. “I’m not even convinced that it is a map.”
Charlie took one long look at it. “Oh, it’s definitely a map. Where did you find it?” he asked.
I pointed to the fireplace behind us.
“In the fireplace?” he asked.
“No, in the wood. It was in one of the big pieces of the palm tree that fell down earlier this year. Margo called it…some name. Like it was something special.”