15 Minutes of Flame

by Christin Brecher

  There was the sound of equipment being unharnessed, and then the line went dead.

  “This is Officer Southerland,” Andy said again. “Can you read me?”

  “Loud and clear,” said Leigh in a chipper voice that contrasted noticeably with the tone she had taken with Solder.

  “We have quite a discovery down here,” said Solder.

  Any interest we’d had in the pair’s private conversation dissolved. We were on pins and needles.

  “There is a skeleton dressed in female attire,” said Leigh.

  “Nancy,” said Agnes, covering her mouth. “She was down there. She really killed herself.”

  We all looked at Agnes, not sure whether to celebrate the discovery of another historical find on Nantucket or to acknowledge the reality that, one way or another, Patience Cooper was back on the hook for the loss of the Petticoat Row funds.

  Cherry was the one who broke the awkward silence.

  “That’s good news,” she said to Agnes. “Now you can focus on Patience and figure out what happened to her. Someone killed her.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “It’s like crossing off a suspect. This is an old case; it had unanswered questions, and now we know more.”

  “Plus we’ve opened a discussion about Nantucket’s hidden history,” said Bellows. I was impressed that Bellows hadn’t let Solder’s criticisms knock him off balance. Once again, I could see that the man wasn’t going to go down easily.

  “Nantucket’s hidden history,” said Fontbutter. “I like that as a tagline.”

  Agnes and Bellows visibly cringed.

  “I’m setting up the lighting right now,” said Leigh over the walkie-talkie. “The conditions here are favorable. The well was sealed tightly. We’ll have a look and see what we can determine. Over.”

  From across the field, we heard Gil Holland yell at his TV, “Run! Run! Yes!”

  The Sox were having a good day.

  “We’ve set up the lights,” Solder’s voice broke through a few minutes later. “I’m examining the body. This is an amazing find. Over.”

  “Can you tell us what you see?” said Andy. “Over.”

  “It—a—similar to—”

  “We’re having a hard time hearing you. Over,” said Andy.

  “Can you hear m—?”

  “A little better,” said Andy.

  “Confirming from preliminary observation that the body is a woman’s,” he said.

  We all looked at Agnes. Flo and Cherry put their arms around her.

  “What happened to Patience Cooper?” she said, her shoulders sinking.

  I was thinking the same thing. If Nancy was down the well, and Patience was in her makeshift grave, I wondered if Jedediah had taken the money and left town with some other woman he’d wooed. What a cad.

  “There are intact remnants of clothing,” said Solder. “She seems to have been carrying a canvas pouch that, because of the strong material, is almost entirely undamaged. That is very rare.”

  “What’s this?” said Leigh from what sounded like a few feet away from Solder.

  There was silence for a moment.

  “Remind—had—house,” said a voice. At this point, we could not even tell who was speaking.

  “Hello?” said Andy.

  “Can you hear—?” said Solder.

  “We keep losing you,” he said.

  “There—and—a piece of embroidery in the sack. It’s similar in style to the linen and needlework we found at the Morton house. I believe it’s safe to say the two artifacts are from the same period. It seems to be a map.”

  “That’s not an unusual choice of subject for that type of needlework,” said Bellows. He leaned toward the walkie-talkie. “I’ll need to see that.”

  “Mr. Bellows would like a look at the embroidery. Can you bring it up? Over,” said Andy. I could see Andy was enjoying the excavation.

  I was surprised Old Holly hadn’t stuck his head out at this point, to gloat about Agnes’s silly ideas. As far as he’d been concerned, he’d received free lawn work and booked a Netflix special without having to get out of his pajamas or leave his chair.

  “It looks like a map—Nantucket,” said Solder. His voice was fading. Andy turned up the volume. “There’s an X at one point of the island. I am not familiar with the geography, so I don’t know where it is. We’re packing it to bring up, along with Nancy’s bonnet.”

  “It’s a treasure map,” said Cherry, her eyes bright with interest.

  “There’s a saying across the top: My Love, My Treasure,” Solder said. We strained to hear the words. “Battery is—Leigh will—pack up what we can take with replacement—.”

  The line went dead. Andy put down his walkie-talkie.

  “Stay here,” he said to all of us as he walked down the path to the well.

  We watched him leave.

  “Maybe Nancy was guilty after all,” said Agnes, hopefully. “If she felt remorse after doing the dirty deed, she might have hidden the money from Jedediah and jumped down the well with a map that marked the spot.”

  “That trove would be worth a fortune today,” said Bellows.

  “Who gets the treasure if someone finds it?” said Flo.

  “It would be up for grabs,” said Fontbutter.

  “It would be a historical find for the island,” said Bellows with a sharp look at Fontbutter.

  Andy walked out of the clearing to the table.

  “Leigh’s coming,” he said, looking through one of her bags. “We were able to call out to each other as she was climbing up. They tried to change batteries, but something isn’t working with the walkie-talkie. She’s going to swap it out, go back down to help Solder package up what they found on the body, and we’ll call it a day.”

  “Should we get some lunch somewhere?” said Flo to her girls.

  At that moment, a groaning noise wafted across the field. We looked over to the path by the well’s entrance. In stunned silence, we watched as a tree on the right side of the pathway began to sway and then fall with tremendous force across the entrance to the well that my cousins had cleared. When it landed, birds flew to the sky, calling out danger. A rabbit scurried furiously out of the brush. Leaves flew up and across the field in every direction.

  Then, Leigh Paik let out an earth-shattering scream from behind the blockade.

  Chapter 8

  “Leigh!” I cried.

  “Can you hear us?” said Andy.

  When she did not respond, I knew we were all thinking the worst. The tree’s trunk was not particularly thick, but it had many branches, all of them long and filled with sharp limbs. If any of them had hit her, Leigh Paik could be in serious trouble.

  Andy, Bellows, Fontbutter, and I ran to the tree, which now barricaded the path. Collectively, we tried to move the timber. The branches, however, had tangled themselves into the extending brush and nothing was moving. We called out to Leigh as we worked, but she still did not answer. Cherry joined us with a small first-aid box she’d found at the table, but I suspected we might need more than Band-Aids.

  “Miss Paik,” cried Bellows.

  “Hello?” said a woman’s voice, finally, from the other side of the brush.

  A flood of relief washed over all of us.

  “Leigh?” said Andy.

  “Yes,” she said. “I think a tree fell on me.”

  “It did,” said Cherry. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “The fire department will be here shortly to help clear away the tree,” said Andy. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Can you get to us from your end?” said Andy.

  We heard some rustling. Things went quiet for a while. Then we heard some more rustling.

  “No,” she said. “I’m stuck in some brambles. I think you’re going to have to cut me out of here.”

  “OK,” said Andy. “Sit tight.”

  “I want to make my way around the brush, to see if I can get to h
er,” I said. “There might be an opening on the other side of the well from which it would be easier to reach her. No reason she has to be stuck in there.”

  “I’ll help too,” said Fontbutter. He tossed off his suit jacket.

  Andy was already kicking around the brush’s perimeter, in search of any entry.

  “You ladies stay here and wait for the firemen,” he said to Cherry, Flo, and Agnes before they offered their services too. I was glad he didn’t give me the same instructions. There was no way I was going to sit around while poor Leigh Paik was trapped.

  “Wait a minute. Solder must be worried, too,” said Bellows, with less enthusiasm about our plan. “I’m sure he’ll climb up and get to her first.”

  If Bellows was trying to dissuade us from the search, he changed his tune when he saw Fontbutter roll up his sleeves. Not to be beat, Bellows found a stick, long and sturdy, left behind by my cousins. He shoved into the brush beside the former path. Fontbutter followed but took a wider path, which started in what was high weeds rather than the bramble Bellows had chosen.

  Andy followed Fontbutter’s strategy of taking a wider loop in hopes of spotting an opening from the less-dense foliage. Whereas Fontbutter had gone right, Andy went left. Hidden by the brambles, we could already hear Bellows whacking away and grunting with his stick to try to clear a path.

  I took one more look at the landscape and then decided to enter through a small opening, of where my cousins’ path had been. Before diving in, however, I remembered an extra helmet with a lamp on top that was on the equipment table. I doubted I’d need the light, but I decided head protection couldn’t hurt. I put it on.

  “We’re coming,” I called out to Leigh.

  There was no answer this time. I hoped she hadn’t fainted.

  As I stepped into my chosen path, the ground was thick with twigs, leaves, and vines that were tricky to traverse. The vines looked easy enough to cross, but at each step they somehow seemed to grow around my feet and keep me from moving forward. I was immediately glad I’d taken the helmet. With it, I was able to hunch down, below some branches, and plow through the lower brush. I couldn’t see anyone, but from the grunts and curses echoing around me, I could tell we were all having a tough time.

  My efforts to take each step became a methodical task. One hand would reach forward, pushing aside the brush ahead, then, head down, I’d find a spot for my foot. Once I succeeded on one side, the other hand and foot would echo the routine. Left. Right. Left. Right. Branch in the face. Foot in a puddle. Left. Right. Soon my pattern became automatic to the point that I had time to think about Solder’s find. We had all been so excited yesterday by the idea that Nancy Holland might have duped Patience. We were so caught up in history. Now I feared we had done nothing more than invite a Netflix producer to the island to exploit the story of two women who’d had a bad ending. I felt badly for Agnes too.

  My thoughts had returned to Solder’s interesting discovery of a map when my path became less dense. I thought I’d somehow reached the back of the well and the brush that my cousins had tried to remove. When I began to notice the growing scent of the harbor’s waters, however, I realized I had somehow veered off my path and had headed farther away from the well and to the outskirts of Old Holly’s property.

  Turning around, I retraced my steps until I reached the point that had led me astray. Then, I crouched down and continued. Beyond the miniature forest in which I’d found myself, I heard the fire trucks arriving. I wondered if they’d have to rescue our crew as well as Leigh at this point. Our united grunts and groans were increasing as the search continued. I tried to see someone through the brush, but between the thick foliage and the gray day it was impossible to see far ahead.

  I could hear Cherry giving the firemen details on how the tree had fallen and who was underneath. The men called out to Leigh, but again she said nothing.

  “She’s right through there,” I heard Cherry say from my left. Or was it my right? I couldn’t tell.

  “Under the tree,” said Agnes.

  Suddenly, the whole of my journey eased up. The ground was not as rough. The brush was not as foreboding. I saw light ahead where the foliage was clearer. In my excitement, I took a couple of steps forward, more quickly than I should have. The first step or two was fine, but on the third, I felt my foot get tangled in a vine I had not noticed until my opposing leg was already in midair. I flew ahead, my sneaker falling off behind me, and landed face down in front of the well.

  “I made it,” I called out. My cheek was pressed against dead leaves and twigs, and my helmet had fallen off, but I was in one piece. “Leigh? Can you hear me?”

  There was no response.

  I turned my head as I slowly began to sit up. I expected to see the wall of the well. Instead, I saw a bright yellow wind breaker and realized I was looking at Robert Solder.

  He lay next to me, his eyes closed.

  “Robert?” I said, sitting up quickly. “Hey, buddy.”

  I shook the man’s shoulders, but I got nothing. He was out cold.

  “Andy?” I called out, remembering the CPR I’d learned in high school. All those years of lifeguard training were about to pay off.

  “Stella? Sit tight” I heard Andy call, his voice becoming louder with each word.

  I pinched Solder’s nose and leaned over to begin mouth-to-mouth, wondering what had happened to him. Perhaps he had been hit by some branches as well. I hoped I hadn’t knocked him out in my fall.

  I was about two inches away from the man when I noticed something was very, very wrong. I unceremoniously dropped Solder’s head back down to the ground. When his head hit the dirt, his eyes opened and looked straight into mine. I pulled my hands to the sky as if I had been caught red-handed.

  The movements were purely instinct, but they weren’t unfounded.

  Around Robert Solder’s neck was the rope he had used to climb the well. It was pulled tightly against his skin, and his skinny neck bulged over the fibers of his noose.

  “What happened?” I said, not so much to him as an expression of pure shock.

  I reached my finger out to Solder’s neck, to check his pulse, but I couldn’t bear to touch him there. Instead, I moved my fingers on his wrist.

  “Hurry,” I said to Andy, but then realized there was no rush.

  Robert Solder had no pulse.

  From behind me, Andy emerged from the trees. Ahead of me, Bellows fell forward, in similar fashion to my arrival, and landed right in front of the body with a scream.

  “Where are you?” I heard Fontbutter cry out from the dense forest.

  “Is he—?” said Bellows, stopping himself.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Bellows stood up and took several steps away from Solder. From across the harbor, the sound of the Sunday church bells chimed twelve noon. Fontbutter suddenly dashed into the open area. I was not surprised to see that he had snuck his camera into the brush. He dropped it, however, when he saw the dead body. He then began to shiver, quite uncontrollably.

  I looked at Robert Solder’s dead body. I did not see any signs of struggle. He still wore his glasses. Whoever had killed Solder had come upon him in surprise.

  A couple of feet next to the dead man, I saw a small satchel that had fallen open. I remembered Leigh carrying the empty bag when the two had descended the well. Now it looked full. I went over to take a look. Inside, there was a filthy canvas bag that appeared to be the one Solder had described as being next to Nancy. There was also a bonnet, similar to Patience Cooper’s. Each was in a container, and marked. Interestingly, there was no map.

  “Everyone put your hands in the air,” said Andy.

  Chapter 9

  I let go of the bag and raised my hands, along with Bellows and Fontbutter.

  “What’s going on?” said Leigh, behind us.

  I was relieved she was unable to see us from her confinement, but I noticed that there were enough loose branches on our side that we might get her out. I m
otioned to Andy to indicate the fact, but he shook his head.

  “Stay put, Leigh,” said Andy.

  His gun was still raised.

  “I want you all to turn around and face away from each other,” Andy said to us.

  Once we did, I heard Andy discreetly call in to headquarters from the other side of the well with details of the situation. Following his call, I pieced together noises that sounded like Andy was patting down Bellows and Fontbutter. It took all of my respect for Nantucket’s finest to stay turned away.

  “What’s this?” said Andy, at one point.

  “My inhaler,” said Bellows. “I think I need it.”

  A few moments later, I felt Andy behind me. It was his official duty to treat all of us as suspects in the murder of Robert Solder. Technically, I had had the opportunity to kill him.

  “I’m going to pat you down your sides,” he said. “If you would like to wait for a female officer, we can.”

  “I think I can handle your hands on me,” I said.

  Next thing I knew, Andy’s hands were making their way down my sides. He took my phone, which did not please me, but his hands were warm and strong, and his measured breath made me realize that I was a bit more frazzled than I had realized. I felt that he sensed this in me too, because he put his hands on my shoulders when he finished. The gesture lasted for only a second, but it helped me steady myself. Once I did, I wanted a look around, so that I could figure out how someone had killed Robert Solder almost in front of us, but without anyone seeing the violent act.

  “May I get my shoe?” I said, offering my unshod foot as proof that I needed to move.

  “You may sit down. All of you need to sit down,” Andy said. “I’ll get your shoe.”

  He walked to the edge of the brush and picked up my sneaker. When he handed it to me, he barely made eye contact. I knew Andy had the task of rescuing a wounded woman, protecting a crime scene, and keeping all of us calm—in the presence of someone who had likely just committed murder.

  We both knew, however, that I had none of these official concerns. The one and only thing I cared about was justice for the man beside me who had climbed down a well this morning, with a promise to solve the mystery of Nancy Holland, and had never made it back alive.