Obsidian

by Teagan Oliver

  The cat abandoned Jamie to wind around Shelby's feet, before rolling onto her back for a belly rub.

  “It looks like you’ve got a friend.”

  Shelby reached down to give the cat one last scratch. “Believe me, she isn’t too partial. She’ll willingly go to anyone who gives her a scratch. Besides, she's only loyal to me because she knows I bring her food.”

  “Shelby?” The voice was coming from somewhere near the front of the house.

  “I brought over those groceries you wanted,” Shelby called out. “I was just about to put them away for you, but Meribelle decided I’d make a better resting spot instead.”

  There was a jingle of bracelets and the scuffle of footsteps coming down the hall. Marianne appeared in the doorway. Her gray-white hair was tinted with a purple rinse and made her look like a cross between a punk rocker and an Easter egg.

  Her face lit up as she walked over to Shelby. The bracelets on her wrists jangled as she put her hand on Shelby’s arm. “Sorry I didn’t come let you in. I’m working.”

  She wore an orange paint-speckled shirt with a pair of loose fitting blue-green chef style pants. Purple canvas high-top sneakers completed her outfit.

  “Oh good. I see you brought a friend.” She held her hand out to him. Her long fingers were adorned with many rings and her wrists with rows of silver. Her cold fingers rested against his hand for a moment before she looked back at Shelby and winked. “It’s about time you brought someone with you.”

  Not waiting for a response, Marianne angled herself past him and scuffed her way over to the stove to put the teakettle on to heat. Her movements were stilted with the effects of arthritis, but even with the restrictions, she carried herself with an air of elegant grace.

  “You’ll stay to tea. I can’t let you go without it, especially since you were nice enough to bring all that out here.” She motioned toward the counter. “Goodness gracious, Shelby. You should have made more than one trip. You shouldn’t be hauling all that in one load.”

  “It’s not really that heavy. Besides, I brought help to carry it.” Shelby walked over to the counter next to him and began pulling cat food from the bags and placing the cans in the cupboard next to the sink.

  The cat let out a disgruntled yowl at Jamie as he pulled his foot out from under the lounging body. Marianne looked at him over half-glasses perched on her nose. “Do you have a name or are you someone she picked up on the side of the road?”

  “My name is Jamie Rivard.” He was surprised when she took his hand in hers again and looked into his eyes. He had the strangest feeling that he was somehow being analyzed.

  Marianne turned back to Shelby who was now putting the cold items into the refrigerator. “He’s okay. You can bring him back again.” Shelby didn’t look up from her task, but Jamie could see her face was turning red.

  “How’s the painting today? Making any progress?” Shelby asked.

  “Not much, I’m afraid.” Marianne gave a sad shake of her head as she pulled down three coffee mugs and turned to him.

  “I was going to try this wonderful green tea blend I picked up at a shop in New York. I can’t say a lot for the flavor, but it’s supposed to be good for me. So I drink it anyway.”

  The teakettle started to whistle, so she pulled it from the burner and filled the mugs with hot water. Marianne handed him a cup and offered one to Shelby, then headed toward the doorway that lead to the rest of the house. She motioned them to follow with the tinkling of her bracelets.

  “I wish you’d take a look at this piece I'm working on. I could use another perspective on this blasted thing. Besides, Shelby, you’ve a good eye for it. Something isn’t right and I was up most of last night just staring at it, trying to figure it out.”

  Jamie followed after them down the hallway where it opened into a wide sunlit room. French doors lined the front, opening up onto a large deck that faced the ocean.

  A gentle breeze swept through the room, ruffling papers on a large drawing board in one corner. The room was filled with comfortable pieces, a floral covered couch and an overstuffed chair. There was an air of ease here, a quiet elegance and easy styling, much like many of the traditional old Maine cottages along the coast.

  A white wicker chair had been pulled up to the drawing board and a set of watercolors held one edge of a large painting in place.

  He looked at the soft colors that filled the page with subtle strength and beauty. The painting was incredible. With a sweep of her brush, Marianne had managed to capture the tiniest details, transferring the world outside her window onto the paper. Her simplistic style captured the very essence of the graying mist that filled the harbor in the morning. The water reflected a boat on its way out to haul. Pine trees lined the bank and the stark black and grays of the rocks looked real enough to touch. The white of the boat’s hull was in stark contrast to the deepness of the surrounding ocean and the small islands dotting the entrance to the harbor were like ghosts of gray silhouette in the background.

  “I can’t imagine that there’s anything wrong with this picture. It’s the most beautiful piece you’ve done.” Shelby assured her as she stood next to her in front of the easel.

  “Well, thank you, dear. Not bad for these old bones, is it?” She picked up the picture and carried it to the window to compare it the scene beyond the glass.

  “I think I got the rocks along the edge of the embankment just right.” She pointed at the picture and then out the window, tracing an invisible line along the line where the grassy lawn ended and the craggy shore began. There was an abrupt drop to the ocean, the trail of ledges leading down to the dock about twenty feet below. A Boston whaler was tied at the dock, bobbing in the wake of the boats that passed on their way in and out of the harbor.

  Shelby drifted toward the window and picked up the binoculars on the windowsill. Sunlight glinted off the dark and light tones of her hair as she raised the binoculars to her face. Out in the harbor, another boat passed by. He didn’t need the binoculars to know it was a local boat.

  “There’s been quite a bit going on out there lately. It’s enough to keep a nosy old woman like me, quite busy.” Marianne fidgeted with putting the painting back onto the easel.

  “More than usual?” Shelby asked.

  A startled expression crossed Shelby’s face.

  “Goodness, there’s been loads of activity going on out there at all times of the day and night.”

  Shelby’s glanced in his direction. Her gaze met his and something strange crossed her features.

  “You didn’t happen to see anything last night, did you? Say, around ten?”

  Marianne set her paints back onto the tray and looked out the window.

  “I think I was up around that time last night, but I don’t remember anything out of the ordinary.” The older lady shrugged as she passed by Shelby and headed toward the kitchen.

  “I’ve been watching the boats coming and going all summer. There's still a lot of traffic in the area. It’s a might weird having so many outsiders here, seeing how it’s after Labor Day. Why, I think I’m the last one left out here on the point, now. Except for those two that have using the neighbors wharf, everyone else has closed up and gone.”

  Marianne shuffled her purple sneakers off toward the kitchen and Shelby followed her. Shelby knew something, something she didn’t want anyone else to know.

  This knowledge put him in an awkward position. Shelby was the last person he wanted to suspect, but watching her reactions told him differently. He’d almost decided to take her off his list of suspects, but now he wasn't so sure.

  Shelby had opportunity. That was pretty clear, considering that she ran the two most public places in town. Owning the wharf and the store gave her a perfect opportunity to be involved in any trafficking going in and out of Chandler.

  As for motive, he didn’t have a clue. She wasn’t a woman impressed by money and he was fairly certain that she wasn’t the type to be doing it for personal gain.


  On the other hand, if Shelby wasn’t involved there was a good chance that she may have stumbled onto something that could be dangerous, and that was one thing Jamie didn’t want to risk.

  Either way, it was clear that Shelby knew something. He just wasn’t sure what it was. And he really didn’t like all the questions without answers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They returned to the store in silence. Shelby’s mood had changed from one of quiet complacency to one of introspection. Clearly, she was thinking hard about something and he’d love to know what it was that had her worried.

  The bell above the store’s door jingled announcing their return. Case looked up from behind the counter, straightening a little when he saw that Jamie was with Shelby. John Case was an imposing man with thick cut shoulders resembling tree trunks and a sense about him that made him appear older than he really was.

  Shelby did little more than give a muffled hello before quickly disappearing into the back room, leaving him and Case alone out front.

  “Did something happen at Marianne’s?” Case eyed him, over the display of canned goods.

  “Not that I know. I offered to tag along to help her with the load. I thought I could get in good with the landlady.” He smiled, hoping his words didn’t sound as inane to Case as they did to him, but what else could he say? He wasn’t about to risk alienating the man. Working on the boat with Case gave him a perfect opportunity to get a good read on the man and his activities, while getting a good look at what was going on in the harbor.

  “You must’ve passed muster for Shelby to give you a place to stay. She wouldn’t let you near the place if you hadn’t.”

  “Funny, she said the same thing about you when I told her you’d offered me a job.” He met Case’s gaze for a moment before the other man turned away. Jamie knew when he was being sized up. It didn’t take a genius to know that Case suspected that there was something going on between Shelby and him.

  The truth of it was that he wasn’t sure himself. He only knew that getting involved with her with be a mistake, no matter how beautiful or tempting the lady was.

  Case poured himself a cup of black coffee from the pot on the counter and settled back with his mug into chair by the window. A strange smile crossed his face and Jamie wasn’t sure if he should run like hell or stick around to see what was on the man’s mind.

  “It was nice of you to help. I try to help her out around here when I can and give her a hand when she needs one. It’s not easy since she prides herself on being so damned independent.” Case’s gaze narrowed as he looked at him over the rim of his mug.

  Jamie picked up his own cup and poured himself some coffee. If this was another test he didn’t want to mess it up by saying the wrong thing.

  “Shelby can take care of herself. It can’t be easy running this place by herself.”

  Case’s hand stilled with the mug halfway to his mouth. “You’re right. Shelby has worked hard to keep this place going. It hasn’t always been easy. She’s not naïve, but she has a big heart and sometimes people think they can take advantage of it.” The warning was clear.

  “It’s a good thing she’s got you and her brother to watch out for her.”

  Case set his mug on the counter and came around, slapping Jamie good-naturedly on the shoulder. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

  Case stood in front of the cash register. “How about we get you ready for tomorrow? You can’t go out without the right gear and from what I’ve seen you haven’t got much with you.”

  Caught off balance by the sudden change in topic, Jamie put down his cup and went to stand in front of the shelves along the wall. A row of boots were lined up by size from the smallest to the largest, all the same navy-black color, and all the standing like tiny soldiers in a row.

  “Not much in the way of making a personal fashion statement.”

  Case chuckled, “No, but they get the job done.”

  Both men looked down at his size eleven feet at the same time. “Let’s see if we can find some in your size.”

  By the time they’d finished, Jamie had acquired a new pair of shiny, black rubber boots, some thick rubber gloves to protect his hands, and a pair of bright yellow coveralls. Hauling traps was hard dirty work. He’d need the gear to do the work.

  They had fallen into a sort of companionable small talk.

  “Do I detect an Irish accent?”

  The older man nodded. “I came to America with my father and my brother. My mother died when I was a teenager.”

  “That must have been quite a culture shock.” Jamie said, rolling his coveralls up and sticking a pair of heavy socks into the boots.

  “Well, there wasn’t much left for us in Belfast.” He laughed, “We didn’t have much here, but we made do. I guess I never did quite lose the accent all together.”

  Case was busy putting supplies into a box for delivery, but it was clear that his mind was on his memories.

  “You’re brother was Shelby’s father?”

  Case nodded. “When my brother met his wife he knew he wanted to start a life here in Maine with her. They started this business, kept it running by themselves and had two kids. They did okay for themselves for quite awhile until his wife died of cancer. The kids were still pretty little. After that, he barely managed to keep it all going and raise two kids on his own.”

  “It couldn’t have been easy.”

  “It wasn’t, but he realized that this was the best place for him to raise his children. He could have packed it in and gone back to Ireland. By then our Dad had moved back and I was going to University in Belfast. But we’d seen too much violence growing up for him to want that for his kids. He figured running this place meant he could be here for them.” He shrugged. “After he died I came here to help out the kids.”

  “I’m sure they appreciate it.”

  “I did what I could. Both of them were kind of shell-shocked.”

  He leveled a hard gaze at Jamie. “I’d hate to see her hurt more. She needs someone who is steady and stable.”

  The message was received and clear. Shelby Teague was off limits.

  “Is that why she married a lobsterman? Because he was steady and stable?”

  Case moved the box out of the way and started packing another. “He was a good man. A bit of a dreamer, but he made her happy. I could overlook his short comings if he made her happy.”

  “You said you went to University. Were you always a lobsterman?”

  Case hesitated. “No, I only did a year or so before I joined the Royal Navy.” Case gave a shrug of his wide shoulders. “After that I spent a lot of time doing a lot of different things.”

  Case put his coffee cup on the stand behind the counter. There was much more to what he’d said, more than what he was letting on, but he’d already pushed too much for today.

  It’d be best to keep him on his side if possible. He had other leads to look into and right now his first priority was to find out how Josh was making his money for his boat.

  “I was hoping to meet Josh this morning. I guess I just missed him.” A shadow of concern crossed Case’s face before it disappeared.

  “He left early this morning to go hauling. I suspect that you’ll meet him at dinner. That is, if the boy can manage to get himself back in early enough.”

  Jamie let it go. He suspected that he’d won a grudging, temporary acceptance from the man and he wasn’t about to screw up his chances by asking too many questions at once. He’d just have to seek another route to get the information he needed.

  The twenty-four foot Bayliner was anchored snugly in the sheltered cove off the south side of the island. They’d acquired it in Florida, appropriating it from a shipyard off St. Augustine before making the trip North. The boat was small enough to blend in, but large enough to get the job done.

  Aside from a couple of storage sheds, the seasonal island cottage was the perfect place for them to work without calling attention to their presence.
From the outside, they looked like nothing more than a couple of late-season fisherman out trying to catch their limit.

  He watched the horizon, just as he had since they’d arrived. As near as he could tell, no one had noticed the raft they’d buried under the dense brush surrounding the cove. Nor had they noticed the occasional switch of men standing watch on the boat and in the yard.

  Just one more week and the last shipment would be done. After they made the last exchange they be free to sink the boat and get rid of any other signs that they’d been using the island.

  His stomach churned, reminding him that the wear on his nerves was gnawing a hole in him. The sooner they were done with it, the better.

  Pushing his sunglasses further up his nose, he squinted out over the water. There wasn’t much around this forsaken place, just a hundred and eighty or so islands in which they could get lost while they did their business. So far, they’d managed to escape the attention of the locals. They’d even bargained for a couple of lobsters from one of the passing lobster boats.

  The beep of his cell phone caught his attention. He flipped it open and punched the button.

  “It’s a go.” The old man said from the other end of the phone.

  This was the call they’d been waiting for.

  “Okay on this end.” Caruso answered.

  “He’s already in your area. You owe me this one. Don’t let me down.”

  Caruso stifled a sigh. He wasn’t about to forget how much they owed the old man. “We’ll handle it.” Caruso said.

  “Good. Just make it so that he isn’t a problem anymore.”

  “Understood. Just remember that this makes us even. What you’re asking for isn’t small. He could be extra trouble.” The last thing they needed was to worry about a body turning up.

  “Don’t worry about outside trouble.” The old man said. “I’ll take care of it. I have so far, haven’t I? Just do as I ask.”

  The line went dead without the need for response.