The Complete Mystery Collection

by Michaela Thompson

  Lily didn’t reply. Sam held out his net to check the meshes. “This boy do you out of some money?”

  “Nothing like that. I just need to find him and ask him something.”

  “Well. ” Sam stretched his legs out in front of him. “I haven’t seen this boy to know who he is or whether he’s named Josh. Does he run a cabin cruiser at all?”

  “I don’t know. Not that I saw.”

  “There’s a bunch at the other end of the island. Staying in the pine woods, past the lighthouse. Getting eat up by chiggers, more than likely. A couple of outboards and a cabin cruiser. They don’t come down this way at all. What they might be up to I couldn’t say, but my belief is they think nobody knows they’re there.”

  “They don’t know Sam Perry,” said Lily.

  Sam shrugged. “Makes no difference to me, long as they don’t get liquored up and set the woods on fire. But it could be that’s where your young fellow is.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Lily stayed another ten minutes chatting before getting up, stretching, and saying, “Reckon I’d better get along.” Sam rose and touched his cap brim again. As she started across the dunes, he called to her. He looked shrunken and bleached in the glare of the forenoon. “You be careful, Miss Lily,” he said. “Don’t go after no trouble.”

  Lily waved as wide as her arm would reach and turned away.

  32

  Josh Stands Guard

  Murphy had been sitting at the table under the pines, a mug of coffee in front of him, for at least two hours. Josh, Larry, and Amos moved without volition, pretending to work but casting covert glances at Murphy.

  The news of the night before—that Elmore had sold them out to the Calhouns and their distribution system was ruined—had shaken them. Amos reacted with his usual bravado, but Josh recognized the tension underneath. Larry asked Josh several times how many Calhouns there were.

  Josh himself was trying to think about something besides when he would see Sue Nell Calhoun again. He was appalled that it had become so important to him. He could see that Sue Nell was trouble, had been trouble since she set foot on the boat last night, was likely to be trouble in the future. But that didn’t matter in the face of the need she had tapped in him.

  I was off balance, finding that body and all, he told himself, knowing it didn’t explain how he felt. Under the surface, he had sensed a desperation that touched his own. Maybe that was it. And he could smell and taste her even now, as he went through the motions of cleaning out the mash cooker.

  Murphy got up from the table and wandered to where Josh and Amos were working. He beckoned Larry. “You boys sit down.”

  They gathered around the table with fresh cups of coffee. Murphy leaned on his forearms and surveyed them. “I reckon we all know we got some problems,” he said. “This Calhoun bunch has found out about our still. Now, this is what I figure.” He swallowed coffee and wiped his mouth. “They don’t know where we are, or they’d have been over here last night. But it could be they’ll find out. We been pretty easy on the sentry duty up to now, but we got to tighten up. You boys have your shotguns. We’re going to patrol around the clock. You’ll do four hours on, eight hours off. And I mean for you to keep your eyes open.”

  Josh, nodding piously, noticed that Amos and Larry were doing the same.

  “What you’ll do,” Murphy continued, “is stay at the bent tree by the creek where we usually watch. But every thirty minutes you make a circuit of the camp. Anybody that’s coming in will likely come by the creek, but we can’t take the chance that they’ll come overland. We’re going to go on making moonshine, which is why I’m only putting one of you on guard at a time. Any questions?”

  “Yeah.” Larry’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and said, “What if we see somebody coming? What do we do?”

  “Yell at them to stop,” said Murphy. “If they don’t, shoot.”

  The little group was silent. “All right, then,” said Murphy. He pointed at Josh. “Get your gun. You’re on duty right now.”

  As he walked through the scrubby undergrowth that bordered the creek, his shotgun under his elbow, Josh felt increasingly morose. Last night Murphy had said they weren’t going to make whiskey. Now he’d changed his mind, and it would be much more difficult to see Sue Nell.

  It was almost noon. His next duty would be midnight to four in the morning. He was sick of Murphy, sick of moonshine, and sick of this damn island.

  He reached the tree that served as their lookout station. Years of gales had bent it, and one branch extended over the creek. Josh hoisted himself into the fork, leaned back against the trunk, and, one leg dangling, turned his thoughts back to Sue Nell.

  After a half hour of dead quiet, it was time to do Murphy’s prescribed circuit of the camp. Josh jumped down and, feeling nervous for the first time, started through the palmetto and scrub oak, making a wide semicircle. The undergrowth was low and thorny. Josh’s hands were sweating, and his gun felt slippery. Suppose the Calhouns did come? Josh wasn’t ready to be killed for Murphy’s still. He needed to contact the office to tell them the latest developments but didn’t know when he’d get a chance. And suppose Sue Nell had gotten into trouble last night. Suppose her husband had gotten wind of what happened, and came in gunning for Josh?

  He had arrived at the creek, half a mile or so from his starting point. Feeling a little easier, he headed back downstream toward his post.

  He had almost reached the overhanging tree when he heard the buzz of an outboard motor. It wasn’t an unusual sound, and only his unnatural alertness made him notice it at all. After a moment or two, it stopped.

  He quickened his pace and soon was back at the tree. He stilled his breathing and listened, but, hampered by the drumming in his ears, heard nothing. He began moving toward the mouth of the creek.

  He found the empty boat tied to a bush. The Calhouns had arrived. They could be anywhere. Behind the scrub oak tangled along the creek, lost from sight in the pines, in front of him, in back of him. He stared at the boat, wishing it would disappear, but it rocked at its mooring, undoubtedly real.

  He thought of calling out to alert the camp, but discarded the notion. It would warn the intruders, and maybe Murphy, Larry, and Amos wouldn’t hear him anyway. He sucked a breath between his teeth and listened again, to nothing.

  The only thing to do was get to the camp. He started back upstream. He had gone only a short distance when he heard, or thought he heard, a rustling in the woods to his left. Still heading vaguely in the direction of the camp, he angled toward the sound, moving swiftly in a half-crouch. He heard the sound again.

  He stopped to listen, and at that moment saw a blur of motion off to his left. So they were here for sure. They hadn’t seen him, or he’d be shot by now. He headed for the spot where the blur had been.

  The scrub oak was thick here, head high and choked with vines, and behind it the rustling separated into cautious footsteps. Just one person. They’d sent somebody ahead to look over the situation. Josh ran lightly ahead until he found a thin place in the underbrush, then crouched to wait.

  His leg muscles tensed, and when the steps drew even with him he lunged forward. The figure went down without resistance, but the wheeze of lost breath was immediately followed by a thrashing of limbs. Several blows landed around Josh’s face and shoulders before he could collect himself. In a moment, though, he had pinned his enemy’s hands. He was looking into the eyes of Lily Trulock.

  33

  An Encounter

  Lily thought she was about to die. She lay on the ground, gasping, her hat knocked off. All she had wanted to do was take a brief and apparently innocent stroll through the woods, so if she saw anything she could go back and convince Woody to look into it. Instead, she was about to meet her Maker. She thought maybe she should say a prayer, and tried to collect herself to think of one. She got her eyes focused and looked at Josh. He seemed shocked. She smelled his sweat.

  Her b
reathing was easier now, and—was it her imagination?—Josh’s grip on her wrists seemed to have loosened. She lay still, gathering herself, then snatched her hands free. Using all her strength, she clouted Josh in the face and, when he recoiled, rolled over, scrambled to her feet, and started to run back toward her boat. She looked around for a weapon. A broken branch was lodged head high in a bush, and she grabbed it as she ran.

  “Wait,” came a low call behind her, and she felt a clutching at her dress. Grasping her branch with both hands, she spun, swinging it like a baseball bat. She saw a sharp twig break the skin of Josh’s cheek, saw his hand go up to protect his eyes, saw him stagger as the weight of the branch caught him below the ear. She dropped the branch and ran.

  He was slowed by only a few seconds and soon was close behind her again. Lily’s chest was burning. “Stop,” he said, still in a low voice, almost a whisper. Waves of blackness surged over her eyes. She felt his moist palm close on her arm, and he dragged her to a halt.

  “Can’t you listen for a minute?” he gasped. “I didn’t mean to knock you down. I thought you were somebody else.”

  She noticed with satisfaction that blood was seeping out of the scratch on his cheek, and clenched her fist to hit him again. “Don’t do that,” he said, grabbing her wrist. She kicked him in the shin.

  Now, he did look murderous. “Goddamn it, ma’am,” he said. “Could you just stop doing that?” He looked around. “Now where’s my goddamn gun?”

  Taking the Lord’s name in vain, Lily thought reprovingly. At the same time, she began to feel a little less frightened. He seemed to be saying he didn’t want to hurt her, although that could be a trick. Still holding her arm, he marched her back to the place where he’d ambushed her, and picked up his shotgun. “Let’s walk along the creek a ways toward your boat,” he said. Mindful of the shotgun, Lily obeyed.

  When they reached her boat, he motioned her to sit down. She perched on a fallen log, thinking distractedly of how rumpled she must look. What would Aubrey think? “What are you doing here?” Josh said.

  “Fishing.”

  Josh shook his head. “No fish I know of you can catch in the piney woods, and that’s where I found you.”

  Lily’s spirits began to return, bolstered by the unexpected fact that she was still alive. “I hadn’t heard that walking in the woods was against the law.”

  “What were you looking for?”

  She shrugged.

  He hesitated. “Are you working with the Calhouns?” The question startled Lily into a short laugh, and the laugh made her feel even better. “I haven’t got to make moonshine for a living yet.”

  Recognition broke over Josh’s face. “I know who you are. You’re the lady that keeps the store at the ferry landing. You gave me change that time.”

  She nodded, slightly apprehensive at being recognized. She saw a muscle jump next to his eye before he said, “Ma’am, let me tell you something. You and me both are going to be in trouble if we aren’t careful. I’m supposed to be on guard, and instead of standing here talking to you I should be patrolling. But I think you’re up to more than picking up pine cones over here. I want to know what it is.”

  Lily didn’t intend to tell him that she thought he was mixed up in Diana’s murder. Why turn his mind to such subjects? Her explanation, when it came, sounded lame even to her. “I saw boats going back and forth. I didn’t think anybody lived at this end of the island. I wondered what was going on.”

  Josh rolled his eyes upward. “Keeping a store must be easier than I thought, if you got that much time to tend to other people’s business.”

  Lily pursed her lips and didn’t reply.

  “I’m not letting you go till you tell me the truth,” Josh said. “We’ll just sit here until you’re ready to talk or until my guard duty’s up. Then you can come back to camp with me, and I’ll let my boss tend to you. And I hate to say it, ma’am, but he’s a whole lot meaner than me.”

  He squatted down, selected a piece of pine straw from the ground, and began picking his teeth with it.

  Minutes passed. Lily sat on the log, smoothing wrinkles out of her skirt, while Josh gazed into space with every appearance of having forgotten she was there.

  A horsefly, buzzing loudly, made a couple of passes at Lily’s head. Josh whistled breathily through his teeth. “It’s a free country,” Lily said. “I’ve got as much right to be here as you do.”

  Josh had stopped whistling when she spoke. He resumed without glancing at her.

  Lily watched a large red ant making its way across the strap of her sandal. She looked around for the anthill, but couldn’t see it. The red ant was a long way from home.

  “It was because of that time you came to the store,” she said.

  Silent now, Josh watched her.

  “You acted funny. You were in a big rush, didn’t want to stop and talk, just made that phone call and ran off. I thought it was odd. Especially the next day.”

  “What happened the next day?”

  The red ant reached the other side of Lily’s foot, started off through the underbrush, and was lost to sight. “I found out Diana Landis had been killed.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t know. But I do think”—she looked at him boldly—“that that call you made was to the sheriff, about the murder. And I told him so.”

  “God almighty.” Josh straightened. “You told the sheriff about me?”

  Lily wondered if she’d just signed her death warrant. “He’s my son-in-law. And if I turned up missing—”

  Josh stared at her. “What do you reckon I’m doing out here? Can you guess?”

  “Since you asked about the Calhouns, I reckon you’re making moonshine.”

  “We need to be secret. We don’t need anybody telling the sheriff about it.”

  “I didn’t tell him about moonshining. I told him I thought you made the call about Diana Landis.”

  Josh seemed to be framing a reply, but before he could make it Lily saw his eyes grow wider, staring past her shoulder. She jumped up, turning in the same motion. A few yards behind her, standing with a shotgun leveled at Josh’s chest, stood Sam Perry.

  “You put that gun down, young feller,” said Sam. His baseball cap was shoved to the back of his head, and Lily noticed that he had put on threadbare tennis shoes. Josh bent and laid his rifle on the ground.

  Lily’s legs felt wobbly. “Thank God, Sam,” she said.

  “You and me will get in your boat, Lily,” he said, not taking his eyes off Josh.

  She went to the boat as Sam slowly made his way across the clearing.

  “You don’t understand,” said Josh. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you—”

  “From what I see, you been a little bit harsh with this lady here,” said Sam.

  “Me harsh with her? You ought to see what she—”

  “Cast off, Lily,” said Sam, stepping into the boat. While he kept the gun on Josh, Lily untied the rope, shoved the boat into the creek, and hopped aboard.

  “If you’d let me—” Josh began, but the motor started after only one pull and drowned out the rest of his words.

  Lily swung the boat around and headed for the ocean, catching only the briefest parting glimpse of Josh’s strained face.

  34

  An Understanding

  “The Lord bless thee and keep thee,” intoned Brother Chillingworth. “The Lord make his face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee and give thee peace. Amen.”

  The scent of flowers hung heavily under the green canopy. The faint snuffling that had been audible when Diana’s casket was lowered into the grave next to her mother’s was now stilled, and heads bowed for the benediction were raised. People began to murmur to each other in low voices.

  Standing in the patchy grass at the edge of the canopy, dressed in her best dress and shoes, Lily tried to compose her mind to say good-bye to Diana. It was diffi
cult. Only this morning, noon really, she had been knocked down and held at gunpoint—or more or less held at gunpoint. Rescued at gunpoint, anyway. And yet here she was at Diana’s funeral, exactly where she would have been if nothing had happened.

  When she thanked Sam for his help, he said, “I know you, Miss Lily. Once you asked about it, I figured you to come messing around down here. We can’t let people get into trouble on St. Elmo, or we’ll have the law all over us. No offense to Woody. But the reason we’re here, if you follow me, is to be left alone.”

  She had taken him back to his beached boat and, with a final wave of his hand, he was gone.

  If Aubrey had been curious, he didn’t show it. When she asked if he minded keeping the store so she could go to Diana’s funeral, he ducked his head and said, “All right.”

  Snapper looked terrible. Perspiring in his black suit, his face the color of dough, he looked transformed from his usual hearty, back-slapping self. When Lily pressed through the crowd to shake his hand and say, “Beautiful service,” his grip was lax.

  “It was, though, wasn’t it?” he said, but she could tell he was thinking about something else.

  The Calhouns were there, even the old man, who, his feeble legs bent, had to lean on Sonny. Bo, she noticed, stood away from his family, staring at the grave. Sue Nell—Lily glanced through the crowd again to make sure she wasn’t mistaken—Sue Nell was the only Calhoun wife not present.

  Isolated from the crowd on the other side of the canopy was a small knot of black people. In the center of the group, Lily saw Pearl standing under her umbrella with her daughter Marinda. The sight of Pearl reminded Lily of the poems, and her unkept promise to show them to Woody. She’d better explain.

  As she approached the group, it seemed to loosen. She beckoned to Pearl. “It was a nice service, don’t you think?” she said when the two were close enough for conversation.