Carolina Booty

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Carolina Booty Page 14

by T. Lynn Ocean


  “Not much he can do with it,” Delores answered for the group. “A lot of the acreage is wetlands.”

  “We know you mean well, Jaxie,” Riley said. “But Lester has said that he’s willing to run for mayor, since he’ll have such a vested interest in seeing us succeed. And his plan is gonna bring people and money to town. Ain’t that what you wanted?”

  “But elect him mayor?” I countered. “You’d give control of your town to somebody you don’t even know. Besides that, hasn’t anyone wondered why any businessman would want to buy a strip of land with wetlands if it is truly worthless? That makes no sense.”

  “We got a good feeling about him,” Rusty, one of the council members, said. “And we do know all about him. He sent a sheet telling about himself in the letters that went out.”

  My eyelid went wild. “Not only did he send actual option contracts, ready to be signed and returned, but he also sent you a bio on himself?”

  “Sure. Even had a photo on there.”

  I sighed. “Gertrude, do you have one of those in your purse, too?”

  “Sure do, Sugar. You want it? You kin bring it back when you—”

  “I know, I know,” I sighed, interrupting. “When I come to pick up my birth control pills. Sure, I’ll get it before we leave.”

  “Besides,” Rusty said, “It will be good to have a businessman with a vision as mayor. He can take us places, without changing Rumton. That’s what he promised. To keep things laid-back and quiet, the way we like it. But better. So why not sell the man some land, and let him fulfill his dream to look after a small town? What’s the problem?”

  A few more people sauntered in to the theater, to see what was happening. “It’s too sudden,” I countered. “And it doesn’t make sense that Lester wants to spend money here, if he’s not going to get a high return from it. That’s the reality of business. An investor doesn’t spend money unless he’s going to make money.”

  “You’re a thick-headed one, that’s for sure,” Rusty said. “He is going to make some money, from that high-tech think tank of his. He’ll make lots of money from that security system thing they’re going to develop.”

  Frustrated, I paced while I spoke. “First of all, he could put his think tank anywhere, if that’s truly what he intends to do. There are a lot more suitable places for something like that. And second, why does he need so much land?”

  “As I’ve already told you, Sweetheart, I’m just an old eccentric with money to spend,” Lester’s voice boomed from the rear of the theater. He walked down the aisle as he spoke. “This is the place I want to make home! And why wouldn’t I want to own land in my own hometown? I love Rumton and everything it stands for. Beautiful country. Great fishing. Old fashioned values.”

  Stopping to stand beside me, he spoke to our audience, arms outstretched. “And wonderful, warm, friendly people. That’s the main reason I want to help this town and call Rumton home.”

  Thwarted and feeling ridiculously incompetent, I didn’t know what to say. Maybe there wasn’t anything else to say.

  Lester patted my shoulder and his touch was revolting. “You might just be a bit upset over the good things happening because it wasn’t all your doing,” he said. “But don’t feel bad, because everybody knows that you’ve tried your best.”

  My cheeks burned as several white heads nodded.

  * * *

  “Pop, can’t you talk to Riley and get him to wake up?” I asked later, in the lobby, as we waited on Gertrude to come out of the bathroom. She had copies of the option paperwork and I was going to hold her to loaning it to me, despite the fact that Lester had crashed my party.

  “I already planned to, when it’s just me and him. Maybe o’er a game of chess. I want to make sure he’s thought of all the consequences of letting Lester take charge before he allows it to happen.”

  That was something. “Thanks.”

  “Probably won’t change anything though. When Riley gets his mind set ‘bout something, it’s hard to change it.”

  I managed to obtain Gertrude’s paperwork without getting another reminder about my birth control pills, paid the volunteer fire department for everyone’s drinks, and we left. I would have been totally dejected driving home were it not for the fact that I managed get a few digital photos of Lester on my camera phone, to email to Chuck. Even though there were no wireless signals in Rumton, the phone wasn’t rendered totally useless and I was glad I carried it in my purse, out of habit.

  Even better than the photographs, we’d gotten Lester’s fingerprints. I had told Pop about the background check on Lester, and Pop had casually retrieved Lester’s discarded plastic water bottle from the garbage can. And as an added bonus on the way out, I was able to snap a picture of his car, a white Lincoln, and jot down the plate number. I also got a shot of the item hanging from his rearview mirror, just because it caught my attention and I wondered what it was. A round loop with feathers and beads, it resembled Indian artwork, which seemed like an odd adornment for a man like Lester.

  Feeling like a sleuth and eager to get everything to Chuck as soon as possible, I had to force myself not to speed. Pop had caught a ride with Millie, and I drove myself home, absorbed in thought. Regardless of what everyone else thought about Lester, I had to trust my instincts, and do whatever it took to protect the people of Rumton. They might not yet believe in me, but I couldn’t help but to become enamored with all of them.

  Chapter 14

  Buttering a piece of toast, I studied my hands and realized it was the first time in a long time that my nails weren’t painted. Rumton didn’t have a salon and there was no place nearby to get a manicure, so I’d just removed the old polish and filed my nails short. Oddly, au natural nails didn’t bother me as much as I would have thought. Probably because I had too many other things to worry about.

  I spread a spoonful of peach jam atop the already buttered toast, not caring about calories, and bit in. Chewing, I spoke through a mouthful of food, not caring about bad manners, either. “Everybody knows about the sunken boat. Everyone in town. So much for keeping it under wraps.”

  Avery took the jar of jam and doctored up his toast. “That’s okay because there is nothing of monetary value down there, anyway.”

  “For sure?” I looked at Brent and Tom, who took their turns at the peach jam. Mad Millie made it. It was really good jam. I told Pop he should have gotten to be friends with her years ago and he agreed.

  “So, are you guys done exploring?” I said.

  Tom nodded. “Yep, and sorry to say we’ve got to leave today.”

  Oh, well, I thought. No sunken treasure and no time for a fling with Tom. “So there was nothing at all? I don’t know what I was expecting, but that’s disappointing.”

  “We can say with confidence that the boat was in use between the late sixteen hundreds and mid seventeen hundreds. Based on what’s left of it, we did a sketch of what the original ship looked like, and we think it was big. Possibly a three-masted square rigger. And we found a few cool artifacts,” Brent said. “Some ceramics and carpentry tools. There is also an anchor that appears to be intact and in good shape, but it’s still half submerged and covered with barnacles. Too big to get out of there without using heavy equipment.

  “A ship of that size would’ve had several anchors, but only one stayed with our wreckage,” Tom added.

  “The items we recovered are in Pop’s shed, on the workbench, if you want to take a look,” Brent finished.

  I swigged some coffee. “No doubloons? No pieces of eight?”

  He laughed. “Spanish explorers and conquistadors certainly traveled the gulf stream, returning to Spain with treasure-filled loads. And pirates certainly ran these shores, to steal from the Spaniards, among others. But if The Aldora was a pirate flagship, and if there was anything valuable on board when she sunk, it’s still out there somewhere.”

  I asked why they didn’t want to look for a possible treasure.

  Tom shook his head. �
�Probably, The Aldora went down offshore, but didn’t fully sink and got washed into Devil’s Tail during a storm. And if there’s no historical documentation to indicate that valuables were on board, and where the ship traveled from when it sank, it makes no sense to search the ocean floor. Without knowledge of what you’re looking for, doing that would be a real waste of time and money.”

  Brent smiled. “We knew it was a long shot to begin with. But not knowing what you’ll find – even if what you discover is nothing – is what it’s all about. We had fun looking. Plus, we got to see a ghost. Well, we felt one at least.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Seriously. I got the feeling that we were being watched out there. But not a threatening kind of thing. More like a curious ghost who wanted to know what we were doing.”

  I pointed at Brent. “He’s messing with me, right?”

  “Crazy as it sounds,” Tom said, “I felt it, too. We joked about it and even checked to see if somebody was offshore, watching us with binoculars. Nobody was, but the sensation didn’t go away. It’s almost like there’s an energy field around the site.”

  “Huh,” I said.

  “Huh,” Pop and Avery said.

  Brent shrugged. “Some things can’t be explained. But Tom is right. It has been a fun three-day distraction. And I haven’t eaten this well in months. Thanks for all the great cooking, Pop.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Don’t forget to thank Jaxie, too. It’s almost artistic the way she layers sliced turkey and Swiss together on wheat,” Tom teased. “She’s mean with that mustard squirt bottle, too.”

  “Give me a break. I’m trying to learn how to cook!” I’d offered to cook the night before, in fact, but the men turned me down. My reputation in the kitchen had leaked out.

  After finishing breakfast and recovering a handheld sonic device that Bandit swiped and stuck in the spittoon, Brent and Tom got on the road. Pop, Avery and I headed to the shed to check out the ship’s artifacts. It looked like a bunch of old, rusty and broken junk to me, but at least it was something to put in Rumton’s museum if the grant money came through. Not that the townspeople would even want a museum if they knew it was my idea.

  I felt sluggish and knew I’d soon start feeling sorry for myself if I didn’t do something to ward off the blues. “I need a spinning class,” I muttered.

  “Eh?” Pop said, and I had to laugh at the look on his face.

  “It’s a type of exercise done on a stationary bike,” I explained. “I’m feeling antsy or something. We’re not making any progress and this whole Lester thing is blowing me away and I can’t think straight. I need a workout.”

  Avery put an arm across my shoulders as we walked back to the house. “Don’t let it get to you. Life’s too short. Besides, I have some good news for you.”

  “You do?”

  He explained that water was regularly flowing in and out of Devil’s Tail with the tides, and that the spot was definitely where shrimpers used to move their boats in and out of Rumton, way back when it was an actual inlet. Before shifting sands, and possibly storms, had filled it in. He could tell from information he’d gathered on foot, combined with data he’d just received from the satellite imaging company. Like me, Avery used satellite internet access since he traveled so much, and the images with corresponding reports had been sent to his laptop.

  Inside, we all crowded around the computer to look while he toggled between different screens and explained what we were seeing.

  “Amazing,” I said when he finished. “But how does it help us now, other than we know for sure where an inlet used to be one hundred years ago?”

  “If the trend continues, Rumton may very well have inlet access to the ocean again. Of course, it could be awhile before there’s enough water depth to get a boat in and out. Hard to say, but small boats might be able to traverse Devil’s Tail at high tide in as soon as seven, maybe eight years.”

  “Oh, great. Seven or eight years? That’s not going to help anything right now.”

  “Why don’t you go for a jog?” Pop suggested. “Or if you want to ride a bike – what did you call it? Spinning? I’ve got one you can ride. Just pumped up the tires a few days ago.”

  “I’m used to working out in air conditioning,” I said, knowing how absurd it must have sounded.

  “No better air than here. Go spin the road I took you on when we went crabbing. Always a good breeze blowing. And smell of the salt marsh makes you feel good. Flush might even join you.”

  Flush did join me and easily loped along beside the single speed bicycle as I furiously peddled to expel some energy. Once I got the initial burst of frustration out of my system, beautiful weather and flat land made for a very pleasant ride. I easily found the road that led to Pop’s favorite crabbing spot and kept going until the trees cleared. The sprawling marsh view and glimmering ocean beyond was as magnificent as it had been the last time I’d experienced it. And Pop was right. Breathing in the aroma of salt marsh did make me feel good. It was so pure and unpolluted and simple. Totally unlike anything anywhere near the city.

  I pulled a bottle of water from the bike’s handlebar basket and guzzled half before pouring the rest into a plastic bowl for Flush. He gulped noisily while I put down an old blanket and sat down to enjoy the solitude. I coated myself with Cutter’s all natural insect repellent to ward off any stray mosquitoes and stretched out, feeling the stress flow out of my body. I felt so peaceful, I wasn’t bothered by being totally alone, even though it was a new experience for me. My mind ran in reverse and, speeding through past years of my life, I couldn’t recall ever being anywhere without other people in my immediate vicinity. I stretched, filled my lungs to capacity, exhaled and did it again. I felt good. I felt more relaxed than I’d ever been after a yoga class at the spa. Hoping a revelation would come to mind, I reviewed events since my arrival in Rumton. Whatever Lester had up his sleeve wouldn’t be good for Rumton, but I still couldn’t pinpoint what the man wanted. The townspeople were ready to put their future in his deceitful hands and I had to find a way to stop them before it was too late.

  Lying back, arms folded beneath my head in lieu of a pillow, I stared at the sky through ultra-dark Maui Jims. Scattered puffy clouds periodically blocked the sun. Each time it popped out, my eyelids shut reflexively while brief patterns of what might have been miniature blood vessels danced in my vision. I’m not sure how much time passed and I might have dozed when loud barks caught my attention.

  I sat up to look. Flush stood in one of the shallow canals thirty or forty yards away. Excited, he intermittently barked at something in front of him.

  “Oh, hush,” I said. “It’s probably just a blue crab. Try to catch it, if you want to get your nose pinched!”

  The sharp barks turned into whines and agitated, Flush danced in front of his find. He wouldn’t come when I called him. I got up to explore.

  When I saw the object of his attention and realized what it was, I could only scream, even though there was nobody to hear. It was the first dead person I’d ever seen, outside a funeral home. The lifeless, distorted face of Riley stared up at us through half open eyes.

  Chapter 15

  The police chief wasn’t as shocked to see a dead body as I’d been. The population was an elderly one and folk died every so often, he told me, adding that I shouldn’t let my imagination run away with me.

  The fact that Riley’s death bed was a spread of marshy grass and tidal salt water was certainly unusual, he explained, but Riley died peacefully. There were no signs of struggle, no trauma to the body, and no evidence that anyone else had been with the mayor. Riley had probably been out catching bait fish because a water-filled bucket and net were found nearby. He suffered a heart attack and must have died suddenly, the chief surmised, because Riley hadn’t tried to get to his truck, parked just off the main road. The chief saw no need for an autopsy, especially since Riley told Billy he was going fishing the same day I’d found the body. He
’d stopped by the general store for a cup of coffee. Besides, the chief said, Rumton wasn’t like my hometown. Burglaries and assaults and murders might be commonplace in Atlanta, but not in sleepy little Rumton. People here didn’t worry about crime because there wasn’t any. To think that Riley’s death resulted from anything other than natural causes would be downright silly.

  Walking downtown, Pop, Avery and I discussed the police chief’s conclusion. Flush came along for the walk and Bandit hitched a ride on Pop’s shoulder. He reached up periodically to rub her chest.

  “Does Riley have any family? And what will happen with the mayor’s vacant position?” I said.

  “As far as filling the position, there will be an election,” Pop said. “If Lester hangs ‘round, he’s a sure bet to replace Riley.”

  Avery threw a stick into someone’s front yard and Flush bounded after it. “Riley’s only family is a son and daughter-in-law in Pennsylvania, and one grandkid that just got married. They’ll come in for the funeral and bury Riley at the Methodist church cemetery.”

  “Aye. Chief already spoke to the son, assured him that Riley died peacefully.”

  “So just like that, everyone is certain Riley went to catch bait to use fishing? And then died of a heart attack?”

  Pop nodded slowly. “That’s what the chief and coroner say.”

  “Rumton has a coroner?”

  Avery smiled. “Gertrude.”

  My jaw dropped in amazement. “Rumton’s sleepy pharmacist beekeeper is also the coroner. This town gets weirder by the minute. What do you think of it all, Pop?”

  “I think I’m going to miss the old coot.”

  To me, Riley’s death was another spark of suspicion surrounding Lester’s arrival. I’d forgotten that to Pop, Riley’s death meant losing a lifelong friend. “It’s a sad time for you.”

  “It is. But I’ve got a few questions of my own.”

  Avery threw the stick again, sidearm. “Like what?”

  “Sure, Riley liked to catch live bait fish before he went fishing. Always said he caught more fish with them than using bloodworms. But why would he go to the crabbing spot to catch bait fish? That meant getting back in the truck to drive to his fishing hole.”

 

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