After going back and forth a bit like this, I finally agreed that he should take the investigative lead—whatever that meant—and that I’d be helping him. With that assurance, he told me to meet him at the Chocolate Box in ten minutes.
~~
Fletcher arrived at the Chocolate Box on time and with his usual chip on his shoulder.
“I’m not going to help you hurt Delilah,” he sang.
I took a bite of one of my chocolate chip brownies. “I already told you that I wouldn’t ask you to that. I would like to speak with her, though. And I’d like to get a look at the map she took from Sammy’s body.” I wanted to assure myself that the dream map that had helped lead us to the treasure had been created only because my mind remembered the details of the map that Delilah had briefly shown me.
He snorted. “That-that’s not going to h-h-happen.”
“Fine. Let me tell you what I know.” I sat down at one of the shop’s small round tables and invited him to sit with me.
“I-I’m n-n-not going to l-l-let you lie to me about h-h-her,” he announced before dropping into a chair across from me.
I offered him a brownie. He refused.
His leg bounced up and down with restless energy as I told him about the metal box with Cedar’s Hill Consolidated Bank stamped on the side that Althea and I had found. I didn’t tell him that we’d opened the box or that we’d turned the gold over to the police. I just made it sound like I was perplexed by this discovery and asked Fletcher if he, perhaps, could help me figure out why such a box would be on Camellia Beach. Perhaps Delilah had told him something?
To Detective Prioleau’s credit, he’d kept the information about the recovered gold on a need-to-know basis. And our small group of friends who’d been on hand when we’d opened our treasure chest had all agreed that it might be dangerous to talk about what we’d found.
Fletcher had reacted with genuine surprise upon hearing about our “treasure chest.” However, instead of sharing any useful information of his own, he told me that he had somewhere he needed to be and hurried away.
He’s driving away now, I texted to Harley.
I hated to do it. I truly did. Despite his chronic bad attitude, Fletcher was one of the good guys and the best employee I’d ever known. Following him felt like a betrayal.
But there was a killer on the island. This wasn’t a time to worry about hurt feelings.
While waiting to hear from Harley, I ate the chocolate chip brownie Fletcher had refused. And I fidgeted worse than Fletcher had.
Finally, my phone pinged with an address. It was to a property located on nearby Bowman’s Island. I thanked Harley and texted that I was on my way.
Harley didn’t like my plans to root out Delilah. But since he knew there was no stopping me, he insisted on supporting me. I hated taking Harley away from his son on one of the few weeknights Harley got to spend with Gavin. And I certainly didn’t like putting Harley in any kind of danger, but as Harley had pointed out, if we were going to be in a relationship, we needed to trust each other. We needed to let each other into our lives.
After checking in with Bertie, who was feeding Gavin a hearty meal and making sure he was doing his homework, I drove over the bridge and across the causeway to Bowman’s Island, a long, narrow marsh island that visitors had to cross over in order to get to Camellia Beach.
I turned off the main road and onto Bowman’s Island. The paved road on the island quickly ended, giving way to a deeply grooved and rutted one-lane dirt path. Homes sporting long boat docks sat tucked in around sprawling oaks heavy with Spanish moss.
Harley’s motorcycle—which ironically wasn’t a Harley—was parked off the road and partially hidden within a copse of trees. I spotted Harley leaning against the trunk of a tree. The corner of his mouth lifted when my car approached.
Gracious, did my heart truly need to beat so heavily every time I saw him?
I pulled off the road as best as I could manage and then turned off the car.
“After Fletcher headed down this way, I remembered he has a cousin that married a Templeton who has a family home out here on this island,” Harley said after brushing a quick kiss against my cheek.
“Gotta love small towns, everyone knows everything about everyone,” I said with a smile.
“I still don’t know nearly enough about you,” he said with a playful sparkle in his eye. “But let’s go talk with Delilah, huh?”
I twined my fingers with his, and we walked down the driveway toward a large white-washed plantation-style house. I recognized Fletcher’s car parked near the front door. A black and tan hound dog barked at us from the porch.
“So much for sneaking up on anyone,” I said.
Harley gave my hand a squeeze as we climbed the steps. The hound, bored with barking, had flopped back down by the time we reached him. “Think we should just ring the bell?”
“Yeah, I think that would be best,” I said. “We can’t really kick down the front door. That’s against the law.”
“Glad to hear it,” Harley said with a smirk. “I didn’t wear my kicking boots.”
I rang the bell and waited.
I hammered my fist against the door and waited.
I shouted, “I’m not here to accuse you of killing your husband,” and waited.
Finally the front door lock clicked. Fletcher tossed the door open. “I knew you’d have someone follow me.”
“If you knew it, you should have saved us all the trouble and invited me over,” I said. “I just want to talk with Delilah.”
“You know that police detective that you’ve been so friendly with over the last couple of days wants to talk with her too,” Harley added.
“I k-k-know,” Fletcher huffed and stepped aside. “Sh-sh-she didn’t d-d-do anything wr-wr-wrong.”
“She tampered with and took evidence from a crime scene, but…” Harley said and shrugged.
“I took what was mine,” Delilah said as she came into the living room. She was impeccably dressed. Not a hair was out of place. I wouldn’t have appeared so put-together if I’d been on the run from the police.
“That was your husband’s map,” I said.
She gave a sharp nod.
“You’d known all along that he’d come to Camellia Beach,” I said.
“Admitting that would be admitting I was an accessory to a crime,” she said while Fletcher opened and closed his mouth like a fish that had found itself tossed onto shore.
“You must have suspected she knew more than she was telling,” I said to Fletcher, honestly surprised. “None of the revelations about her husband has surprised her.”
“J-j-just because she’s n-n-n-not an emotional mess, doesn’t-doesn’t mean she’s involved,” Fletcher stammered even more than usual.
“No. But remember how I saw the Gray Lady and remember how I thought she looked familiar?” I turned to Delilah. “She was you, wasn’t she? You were warning Joe—I mean John—that Sammy was out of jail and coming to Camellia Beach. You were the reason that he was so upset the morning before the hurricane. And I suspect you also knew he’d started to have trouble with his memory and had misplaced the stolen gold.”
Instead of answering, she gave a haughty sniff.
“Stolen gold?” Fletcher whirled toward her. “Delilah? You knew?”
“Of course she knew,” I answered since she was determined not to incriminate herself. “And we’re not the police.”
“Actually, as a lawyer I’m compelled to—” Harley started to say.
“Could you go stand outside for a second?” I asked him. “Not that we’ll be discussing anything illegal, mind you. I simply don’t want Delilah to feel intimidated, seeing how she’s not your client.” I didn’t understand all the rules governing lawyers, but I didn’t want to accidentally cause Harley any ethical dilemmas.
He hesitated for a moment before giving a sharp nod. “I’ll be right outside the door.”
Once he was gone, I said, “
You met with Joe at the beach because you knew Sammy was on his way. You wanted to warn him. Isn’t that correct?”
“I did,” she admitted.
I had to tamp down an urge to do a little victory dance.
“You were also skulking around Althea’s shop, weren’t you? Have you also been dropping gold coins for me to find?”
“What are you talking about?” She scowled at me.
“I’m talking about The First Wish, the crystal shop on Main Street. I saw you poking around the shop. Did you drop a gold coin inside her shop to confuse us?”
Her scowl tightened. “Why would I do that? You clearly don’t need my help to get confused.”
Fletcher snorted.
I wasn’t sure why she was lying about the gold coins, but it really didn’t matter. “We found the stolen gold.”
“Pirate gold?” Fletcher demanded.
“No, not pirate gold. It was gold Sammy stole from the bank where he worked. Joe took it. He hid it. And lost it. Isn’t that true?” I asked Delilah.
Her shoulders dropped. “Fletcher told me you found the box. And I’m sure you and your friends plan to keep it.”
“No, we turned it over to the police.”
“Ah.” She plastered a brittle smile to her face. “Such heroes. Are you here to rub salt in the wound?”
“No. I’m here because I’d like to take a look at the map.”
“Why?”
“Call it curiosity,” I said. Plus, I was hoping it would help provide some evidence against the person who killed Joe and Sammy, evidence that would convince the police to listen to me.
She closed her eyes. “How did you manage to find the box? John had this map. Heck, he made the map, and he still couldn’t find his way back to the gold. No one has been able to.”
“Dumb luck, probably,” I said, not willing to go into a long explanation about how my dreams and Althea’s knowledge of the island brought us straight to the hidden box.
“Dumb luck.” She opened her eyes and looked me up and down. “I can believe that.” She left the room for a moment and then came back with the map.
It was a copy of a hand-drawn map on graph paper. It was mainly a series of lines with numbers of steps written next to them. There weren’t many identifying markers. A bush here. A tree there. But no way to know if the trail was located on the ocean-side or marsh-side. No wonder Joe had had trouble following it once he forgot the rest. And even if he’d started in the right place, the trail Althea had followed was so well hidden, he might not have been able to find it again. I doubted I could find it again and there was nothing wrong with my memory.
I had no idea how my dream-mind had managed to make sense of such a sparse map. But somehow it had, right?
“How do you think Sammy got hold of this map?” I asked. “Joe’s place had burned to the ground. Do you think Sammy confronted Joe before the storm?”
“No, Sammy came to me after the storm had passed,” Delilah said quietly. “He threatened to tell the police about my role in helping them get away with the gold. I had no choice but to give him the map.”
I blinked back my surprise. “How did you get it?”
“After John realized that he’d lost the treasure, he sent me a copy.”
“You stayed in contact with him?” That seemed risky.
“We were careful,” she admitted. “He kept promising me that he was close to remembering where he’d buried the gold. He had been afraid that someone would steal it out of his house, so the numbskull went and buried it.”
Okay, that made sense. But there was something I didn’t understand. “If he stayed in contact with you, why didn’t he also stay in contact with his daughter? How could he abandon her? She was working with him at the car dealership. When he ran, it closed, leaving her without a father and a career.”
“Mary?” Delilah wrinkled her nose.
“Yes, Mary.” I felt a need to defend the poor girl. Even though she was an adult, her father had abandoned her.
“Well…” Delilah bit her lower lip. “You see…”
“You were lying about that rosy relationship between her and you,” I said, trying to be helpful. I’d had stepmothers who lied about being friendly with my father’s children when the reality was no relationship existed. I doubted any woman wanted to be cast as the evil stepmother.
“No. No. It’s just…” She bit her lower lip again. After several tense moments, she blurted in one breath, “Mary isn’t good with secrets. To protect her, I told her that her father lost the business and ran off in shame. I told her that I didn’t know where he went and that I couldn’t contact him. He didn’t leave her in a lurch. He signed his savings account over to her and gifted her one of the car lot’s best used cars. A real cute sporty two-seater.
“And I have lunch with her every week. We sometimes go antiquing together on weekends. She loves coming to me for makeup and fashion advice. I’m not a monster. I freely share my knowledge with her. She’s easy to get along with. We’re very much alike.”
“Ah,” I said. I didn’t have time to argue that Mary had described their relationship differently. I hated it when people lied to me. My tone grew sharper. “You do know that you need to contact the police as soon as I leave here? You need to give them the map and tell them everything else you know.”
“She-she-she c-c-can’t!” Fletcher looked as if he wanted to murder me.
I held up my hands. “I have a good feeling the police will be making arrest tonight.” In a few hours’ time if everything worked out the way we’d planned. “Call Detective Prioleau, Fletcher. He likes you. It’ll be best for everyone if Delilah turns herself in.”
And with that small piece of advice, I left. My friends and I had a busy night in front of us, and a murderer waiting to be caught.
Chapter 29
Come to the ruins near the lighthouse at 8pm, the text message had pinged my phone while I ate dinner. It had originated from a blocked number. Come alone.
That was the text we’d been waiting for. Still, when it came, my stomach lurched.
After our meeting with Delilah, Harley had sent a series of texts to Big Dog’s phone, a phone we weren’t even sure Big Dog still had on him, providing him with information similar to what we’d told Delilah about the gold we’d found—suggesting that we still had the bank box.
Harley and I had met up with Bertie, Althea, and Bubba for a light dinner. Before sitting down at the table, I’d sent a quick text to Mary to update her about what was going on. I told her about the treasure chest of gold and promised to let her know whenever we knew more. After a short back and forth, we’d planned to meet up and discuss things much later tonight at the Chocolate Box.
“Any idea who sent this cryptic text?” Bertie asked as she peered over my shoulder and read the part about needing to come alone out loud.
“I’m pretty sure it didn’t come from a ghost,” I said.
Althea snorted. I didn’t know if she’d snorted because she agreed with me or because she thought ghosts could send text messages. I was wise enough not to ask.
I drew a long breath. These were my friends. And as hard as it was for me, I had promised to share everything with them. I needed to tell them my theories because before the night was over, we were going to meet up with a killer and we needed to get through this with no one ending up hurt or worse. I needed to tell them everything.
While finishing off the rest of my chocolate chip brownies, we sat around the table and quietly discussed the who, what, and whys of what was going to happen tonight. And I was fairly certainly none of it would involve a ghost.
It was easy to imagine why the island was fertile ground for ghost stories. There was heartache and death crowding every chapter of the local history book I’d started reading last night. I huffed as I drove toward the narrower northern end of the island where the abandoned old red-and-white striped lighthouse now stood stranded in the water.
Even though the sun was still
visible over the marsh, a full moon sat on the horizon over the ocean as if waiting for its turn to take over the sky.
I drove alone in my Fiat, just as the text message had asked of me. But I’d faced enough dangerous situations in the past year to know that doing as the mysterious message had directed would be beyond stupid. And I had no patience for stupid.
Harley and Althea had left ahead of me.
We’re hunkered down in the bushes to the right of the ruins, Harley texted. No one is here yet.
Gibbons also knew what we were doing, although he’d told me that he thought it foolhardy to do anything other than ignore the text. He had fussed so much that I regretted calling to tell him about it. But after he’d settled down, he insisted on having a team nearby.
Bertie, Bubba, Trixie, and Barbie were also in on the plans. Fletcher was not. I wished he was, but ever since Delilah had arrived in town, we seemed to be working against each other. I couldn’t risk him doing something impulsive that might put the rest of our lives in danger.
This was it. I parked where the road ended. I swept my gaze over the empty street. Harley had hidden his old BMW well. The far end of the island felt vacant, deserted. With a shiver, I stepped out of the car and headed down the sandy path that led toward the ruins near the lighthouse and whoever waited for me.
~~
A Coast Guard base used to watch over the nearby Charleston harbor from its vantage point at the far northern edge of the island. It had been abandoned decades ago. The ruins of its crumbling concrete block buildings, only partially removed, were slowly being eroded away from the top by the relentless wind and swallowed by the sandy beach at the ground level.
This is where the person who’d sent the text had wanted to meet.
“You have no proof a killer even sent that text,” Chief Byrd had complained when I’d gone to him to show him the message on my phone. “People don’t like outsiders like you poking in their delicate business, Penn.” He rubbed his nose. “People with secrets get mighty anxious when you start asking questions. Any one of them could have sent that text in your hand.”
Like Gibbons, Byrd had advised me to ignore the text. Like Gibbons, he’d insisted on being on hand where the action was going to happen.
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