The Complete Mystery Collection

by Michaela Thompson

  “I don’t know,” Josh said.

  “If you don’t tell me when I ask you next, which is going to be when we’re about to leave here, I’ll shoot you. First in one leg, then in the other leg. First in one arm, then in the other arm. You’ll tell me.”

  “You wouldn’t do that, Bo,” said Lily.

  Bo didn’t take his eyes off Josh. “You’ve wandered into the wrong place this time, Miss Lily. You stay out of the way. This is between me and him.”

  There’s more than that between the two of them, if Bo knew it, thought Lily, remembering Sue Nell. The two men stood motionless, like figures balanced on a seesaw. “You two come over by the fire,” said Bo.

  Lily and Josh sat at the hearth, and Bo stationed himself a little distance away, leaning against the wall. Lily looked at Josh, wondering what was going on in his mind. His face was expressionless, his manner completely calm. He obviously wasn’t going to try to argue with Bo. Considering the dangerous mood Bo was in, Lily saw no option but to follow his lead.

  Bo, on the other hand, seemed to want to talk. “No sir, those boys won’t get anywhere tonight. They’ll be waiting for us tomorrow.” He rested the shotgun on his knees. “I plumb tore up your still,” he said to Josh.

  When Josh didn’t respond, he continued. “I went the whole length of the island in this weather. When I saw the fire and your boat and I broke in here, I thought sure to God I had them. But I’ll get them.” He turned to Lily with a weird grin. “Won’t I, Miss Lily?”

  “I reckon so.”

  “Sure I will.” He ran his hand over the gun’s stock, then glanced at Lily again. “You put your nose into the wrong people’s business this time, didn’t you?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Better stick to selling nets and molds. Even if they are the sorriest ones I’ve ever seen.”

  Lily was stung. “You knew that mold was uneven, and I gave you fifty cents off and a lump of lead.”

  “That’s right. You told me about the mold, but you didn’t tell me about the net.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was just looking at it this afternoon when I was cleaning out my boat to come over here. There isn’t a square mesh in it. I could make a better one myself.”

  “Sam Perry made those nets.”

  “Maybe old Sam’s hands are starting to shake.”

  He’s saying that out of pure hateful meanness, Lily thought, and she had her mouth open to protest further when a long, agonizing crack sounded from outside, ending in a crash of tumbling wood and shattering glass. The fire danced crazily as wind gusted through the room. The three of them were instantly on their feet. Through the broken windows the collapsed remains of what had been the porch roof were dimly visible.

  Bo’s gun was leveled. “You stay right there,” he said. “This whole damn place will fall in before I let you get away. Sit down.”

  Lily sat down, feeling a surge of despair. I’m in a building that’s collapsing, in the middle of a storm, with a man who’s going to kill me, she thought. If he kills all the others, he’ll have to kill me. She bowed her head.

  The fire fluttered and died. In a moment, a beam of light shone out. “You aren’t going to catch me in the dark,” said Bo. He directed the flashlight at the tarp Josh had been wrapped in. “You’re going to get that over the windows some way, and then you’re going to rebuild the fire.”

  Bo held the light, and Lily and Josh fastened the tarp over the windows, nailing it in place with nails from the tackle box, using the heel of Josh’s shoe as a hammer. All of it seemed vague to Lily. Fear and exhaustion were battling inside her, but a new emotion, complete indifference, was becoming stronger than either. When the fire was rebuilt, she put her head on a cushion and closed her eyes.

  That she was able to doze seemed strange, but at intervals through the long night, stirring to see Bo sitting alert, his eyes glowing in the dying fire, and Josh awake too, leaning on his elbow, she knew she would soon sink again into numbness.

  What woke her at the gray beginnings of dawn was not a sound, but the absence of sound. The absence had continued, she thought, for some time. Her eyes opened at the realization of what it was. There was no thunder and lightning, no sound of rain, only a strong wind and pounding surf. She blinked. The hotel was still standing. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

  “That’s right, time to go,” said Bo, and her tiny impulse toward hope withered. She looked at Josh. He gave nothing away, but she sensed a wariness in his manner that hadn’t been there the night before. “Let’s pack up,” said Bo.

  Wearily, she bent to gather the few items that had seen them through—the tackle box, the cushions. When she picked up the oilcloth-wrapped package that was Diana’s book, Bo said, “Wait a minute.”

  She stopped. He waved his gun at the package. “What’s that?”

  She shook her head, not knowing what to say. “It’s nothing.”

  Bo sneered, “You don’t want me to see it?” He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

  Lily handed it over. He undid the loosely knotted string with one hand, keeping the gun trained toward them with the other. He unfolded the oilcloth and, taking the book, let the wrapping drop to the floor. When he glanced at the book, his face went slack.

  The instant Lily noticed the change in Bo’s expression, she felt Josh, standing near her, spring toward him. Bo went down heavily. Diana’s book, knocked from his hand, slid across the floor.

  Without thinking, Lily went after it and picked it up, then turned to see the two men struggling. Josh seemed to have the upper hand, but Bo was fighting ferociously, and Lily could sense his desperation. The gun, locked in Bo’s hand, swayed between them.

  Lily picked up the tackle box and, gritting her teeth, brought the corner of it down hard on Bo’s head. When Bo’s eyes unfocused, Josh grabbed the gun and backed off, aiming it at Bo. Bo shook his head, roared, “I’ll kill you!” and started for Josh.

  The report of the gun reverberated through the room, and Lily wondered if the noise would do what the storm couldn’t—bring the hotel down. Although the walls shook, they stood. It was Bo who fell, a burst of red at his shoulder.

  Lily sensed Josh taut beside her. She saw the gun sight still at his eye, his hand tense on the trigger. “No!” she screamed. “You got him once!” She shoved at Josh’s arm, and the next deafening shot thudded into the wall.

  She stood looking at Josh, her hands pressed to her mouth, while he lowered the gun. Her fingers, she realized, were wet with tears. She ran and knelt beside Bo.

  He was staring at the ceiling. He didn’t seem to know who she was. “Di’s book,” he said. “She wrote those.” He took a long breath and lapsed into unconsciousness.

  Lily looked at Josh. His face was working. “He was right,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

  42

  On the Mainland

  The trip back to the mainland seemed to Lily both unreal and exquisitely clear, with the unreal clarity her dreams sometimes had. Josh wading out to the boat in waist-high water and pulling it to the front steps, the two of them struggling to get the semiconscious Bo on board, Josh pulling frantically when the motor wouldn’t start at first—these images had no power to touch her. During the ride, the bay still dangerously rough, she gazed at the coast as if she had never seen it before. Absentmindedly, she blotted sweat from Bo’s forehead as, his hands tied, he thrashed in the bottom of the boat. She saw the ferry landing loom in front of her with no more emotion than she would feel at the sight of a familiar tree stump.

  Green glass, glittering in the emerging sun, was strewn in front of the store where a carton of empty coke bottles carelessly left outside had been tossed by the wind. Otherwise, there was no damage she could see. The Nash was pulled up where she’d left it.

  “I’ll drive you to town,” she told Josh, digging in her raincoat pocket for the keys.

  He looked at her closely. “You’re sure you want to?” When she nodded,
he didn’t protest.

  The surf was boiling up close to the edge of the road, foam scudding across in front of them, but in the sun it no longer seemed threatening. The ocean side of the pavement had a nibbled-at look, and Lily thought they’d have to do some road work before next year.

  Woody’s car was in the parking lot when they pulled up at the jail entrance in back of the courthouse. She went ahead and found him while Josh helped Bo out of the car. Woody didn’t look happy to hear her story, and when she turned to Josh and said. “This is Joshua Burns from the Beverage Department,” his jowl lines deepened.

  He glanced at Bo and said, “I’ll call the Doc.” As he turned to the phone, he said, “Daddy Trulock was mighty worried.”

  Then Lily was left alone. Josh talked with Woody, and made a long distance call to his office, and talked with Woody some more. She sat more or less forgotten, on the bench in the outer office. She tried to call her home once, and the store once, but there was no answer at either place. The doctor came in to look after Bo. Josh stuck his head out of Woody’s office and asked Loyce to get Tallahassee again. Cecil walked in, carrying a doughnut and coffee. There was, it occurred to her, something she wanted to ask.

  “Cecil,” she said.

  He turned politely. “Ma’am?”

  I must look a fright, Lily thought, the first time she had thought about it. She gathered her dignity. “I want you to do me a favor.”

  Cecil nodded in a way that said he thought he’d best humor her. “What is it?”

  “I want to see the net. The one that killed Diana.”

  Cecil looked like he wanted to defer to Woody. But Woody was closeted with Josh. “Please, Cecil,” said Lily in a tone that meant there was no “please” about it.

  He led her into a side room and unlocked the metal drawer of a cabinet. He took out a bag, opened it on a table, and pulled out the net. It was stained yellowish brown from the canal water. She held it up to the light and looked at the even squares that formed the meshes. She ran her finger over the dull gray lead weights hanging around the bottom. Then she thanked Cecil and turned away.

  Eventually, Loyce took pity and brought her coffee and a sweet roll, and shortly after that Josh emerged. “You didn’t have to wait. The sheriff is going to loan me a car,” he said. “Thanks, though.” He bit off the words abruptly.

  “What’s the matter?” she said.

  “Come on out here.”

  They stood in the parking lot while Josh told her that Tallahassee was not anxious to bother Congressman Snapper Landis with a moonshining charge. “They’re looking for every kind of way to get out of it. At this point, they don’t even want to talk to Pearl. And all your son-in-law will do is fold his hands and say what a fine man Snapper Landis is, and how good for St. Elmo.”

  “Sounds like him.”

  “Maybe they’ll catch Amos and Murphy, and they’ll admit that Snapper was behind it all. Otherwise, I went through this for nothing.”

  Lily could think of no comforting words. The sun beat down. Tomorrow it would be as hot as ever. “I found out something while I was waiting,” she said. “I saw the net Diana was killed with. It’s Bo Calhoun’s net.”

  Josh took her arm. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t recognize the net itself, but I recognize the lead weights. He made them with the mold I sold him. It was uneven on one side, and I gave him fifty cents off. And the meshes are square and even. I knew Sam Perry wouldn’t make a bad net.”

  “You mean Bo killed Diana?”

  Lily’s mouth tasted bitter when she heard the hope in his voice. “I mean his net killed Diana. He kept it in his boat. You can figure it out, if you want to think about it—”

  “No.” Josh’s fingers dug into Lily’s arm. “Bo must have done it. He got mad with her, she was giving him trouble—”

  “Then why would he tell me I sold him a bad net? Why bring it up?”

  “Just—just to throw us off. To make us think that—”

  “No. Somebody made another net, quick, and put it in the boat before he missed it.”

  Josh pushed her away. “You’re crazy.” His voice was tight. “Just shut up about it. Don’t say any more.” He got in the sheriff’s department car and skidded out of the parking lot.

  Lily sagged against the Nash for a few minutes, searching for the strength to drive home.

  43

  Lily and Aubrey

  Lily’s kitchen looked strange to her. The yellow walls, the oilcloth-covered table, the Mixmaster on the counter were like relics from another age. She knew instinctively that the house was empty.

  The note was on the table, weighted down by the sugar bowl, and she had started the coffee in the percolator before it caught her eye.

  “Lily, I know you left because I wasn’t paying attention,” Aubrey’s scrawl read. “If you find this, it means you have come back. I’m glad you came back. I will be home soon. Love, Aubrey.” She smiled slightly, biting at the knuckle of her thumb, and took the note with her and left it on her dressing table while she took a bath.

  Soaking in the tub and shampooing her hair made her feel better. As she dressed, she wondered what she should do about Josh and her theory about Diana’s murder. His anger had made her feel bereft. I kept him from killing Bo, too, she thought. But that might make him madder. That I saw what he almost did. She sighed. Maybe a cup of coffee would help her think.

  Preoccupied, she wandered into the kitchen and stopped short. Murphy and Amos were sitting at the table.

  The two men had a battered air. Murphy’s shirt was smeared with grime. A bloody handkerchief was tied around Amos’s hand, and his lank blond hair was filthy. In his good hand, he carried his gun.

  “We’re looking for Josh,” said Murphy.

  “He isn’t here.”

  “He coming back?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Murphy stretched exaggeratedly. “Reckon we’ll wait and see, then.”

  Amos seemed less inclined to be tolerant. He walked toward Lily, towering over her. “We’re going to find that double-crossing son of a bitch,” he said. “We’ll teach him about taking off in the middle of trouble.”

  Wait till you find out how much you really were double-crossed, Lily thought. She walked past Amos to the percolator. Her lack of fear surprised her. Perhaps she had simply been through too much to be afraid. “I made coffee,” she said. “You want a cup?”

  “Might as well,” said Murphy.

  As she got mugs from the cabinet and napkins from the drawer, Lily realized that she was angry. She had had about enough of this. Enough of people waving guns around, and wanting to know where other people were, and shooting at each other. Enough of people walking in unannounced with no manners at all. Enough of people who threatened to hurt her.

  Without stopping to consider what she was doing, she unplugged the percolator and loosened the top. Then she turned and flung it at the two men.

  The coffee spurted out in a brown, steaming sheet, and as she headed for the door Lily saw Murphy put up his hands and Amos duck. Then she was outside, the screen door slamming behind her, running down a track that led away from the beach and into the woods.

  The screen door banged again. Her only advantage, a slight one, was her knowledge of the woods. She also knew where she was going even if she didn’t know exactly why.

  The storm had torn limbs from trees and strewn them in the way. She dodged over them. Behind her, she could hear Amos and Murphy pounding through the underbrush. She tried to put on a burst of speed in order to get away from them and hide, but they were too close. She began to smell the creek. It wasn’t far now.

  “Aubrey!” she called as she burst into the clearing. There was the apiary, the white hives standing amid waist-high vegetation. And—yes—there was Aubrey, wearing his mesh bee veil, his smoker in his hand, at the farthest hive. He looked up at her call.

  “Lily,” he said. “I called the Coast Guard. I thought you
—”

  Amos and Murphy ran out of the woods behind her.

  “Who are you?” Aubrey said.

  “They’re moonshiners, Aubrey, and—”

  “Shut up,” Amos said. He motioned with his gun. “Get out of the way, old man.”

  Aubrey came closer. “You got some quarrel with me and my wife?” He stopped next to the hive nearest them. Gray wisps drifted out of the tip of the metal smoker.

  “Put that thing down,” said Murphy.

  “This?” Aubrey held up the smoker. “All right.” He bent and placed it on the ground. As he straightened, he bumped the hive. “You hear that?” he said.

  The air vibrated with angry buzzing. “They’re upset,” said Aubrey. “They didn’t like that storm. They’re upset as they can be.” He drummed his fingers on the hive, and the buzzing grew louder.

  “Stop it,” said Amos.

  Aubrey thumped the hive again, and the sound grew in volume.

  “I said—”

  “What I could do,” said Aubrey, “I could pick that thing right up and throw it at you. Now, you could shoot me, but maybe I’d rather be dead than covered with mad bees. Because, I guarantee you, they’re looking to sting.” He placed a hand on either side of the hive.

  “Don’t do that,” said Murphy.

  “I’ll kill you right now,” Amos said.

  “Before I’m hit, this hive will go over,” said Aubrey.

  “I said don’t,” said Murphy.

  “Then you get out of here, and leave me and my wife alone. We got no quarrel with you.”

  Murphy and Amos looked at each other. The buzzing was insistent. They turned and walked back into the woods.

  Aubrey removed his veil and mopped his head with a handkerchief.

  “You would have hurt your bees,” Lily said.

  “I thought you were dead,” said Aubrey. “I want to know what happened.”