“What can I do to help her?” Jamie asked.
“Tell her you’re worried about her. Be strong for her. Let her cry on your shoulder for a change. And whatever you do, keep the alcohol away from her as much as possible.”
“That’s easier said than done. My aunt has stocked the bar in there”—Jamie aimed his thumb over his shoulder at the guest cottage—“with enough alcohol to fuel a wedding reception.”
“We need to get that out of there. Is there a box around here we can use?”
“There’s probably one in the garage.” Jamie wheeled off with Moses close behind him.
“Don’t worry, Jamie. This situation with your uncle can’t last forever.”
“You don’t know my uncle. He’s a greasy punk who …” Jamie’s voice trailed off as they disappeared around the corner.
Thirty-Six
Samantha
Sam spent most of the day in bed, buried beneath a mountain of pillows, hiding from the bastard who continued to stalk her. It was late afternoon before she stumbled down the stairs to the bar.
“What the fuck,” she said when she discovered all the bottles of booze gone.
She went to the adjoining kitchen to check the cabinets. She was so preoccupied with her search that she didn’t notice Mack sitting at the bar reading the paper.
“What’re you looking for?” he asked.
“A drink,” she said. She opened the refrigerator and found the dregs of a bottle of Chardonnay on the door. She lifted the bottle to her lips, but only a few drops trickled out.
“That’s not going to help your situation.”
“You know,”—she pointed the bottle at him—“people keep telling me that, but so far everyone’s been wrong. The alcohol helps quite a bit.”
“Maybe in the short term.” He came around the bar and took the bottle from her. “This isn’t who you are, Sammie.” He set the bottle on the counter. “Your father didn’t teach you to solve your problems by getting drunk. Where’s that spunky little girl who used to stomp her foot at her father, demanding he take her along on a deer hunt? Where’s that brave girl who challenged the great Oscar Sweeney to shooting matches, and beat him every time?”
Sam eyed Oscar’s shotgun propped up in the corner. “That’s what I need. A gun. Do you have one I can borrow? Curtis stole mine.”
“If it’ll make you feel safer, I have a handgun you can borrow.”
Sam relished the idea of having a loaded pistol as protection against that lowlife son-of-a-bitch brother-in-law. “I better not,” she said. “I might end up shooting my sister.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do, actually.” She held her thumb and index fingers up, about an inch apart. “At least a little bit. A part of me can’t help but blame her for dragging us into her drama.”
“Then why’d you stop Faith from running away the other night?”
“A moment of weakness, I guess.”
“You promised Faith you’d do whatever you can to keep her safe. Now you have to honor that promise. She’s not as strong as you are, Sam,” Mack said, his voice stern. He’d never spoken to her like that before—like a father, reprimanding his daughter—and it got her attention.
“That’s the problem, Mack. Everyone expects me to be strong, including you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But I don’t have that kind of strength. How am I supposed to fight a slimeball like Curtis? He sneaks around, hiding behind cars and bushes, destroying my house and throwing paint in my face. He has total control of my life right now, and I can’t handle it. I feel so vulnerable. So alone.”
Mack reached across the counter for a napkin and handed it to her to dry her eyes. “Come on in here and let’s sit down.” He took her by the hand and dragged her over to the sofa. “First of all, you are definitely not alone in this. Your friend Eli is working on getting the paint off your car.”
She jerked her head toward him in surprise.
“And I bet you didn’t know I slept on the bench outside your front door last night, with only my shotgun to keep me warm.” He chuckled. “But with your permission, I’ll move inside tonight.” He pressed down on the cushions. “This sofa would feel a whole lot softer to an old man’s bones. I promise you, Sammie, I won’t leave your side until this thing is over.”
“Why are you doing this, Mack?”
“Because your father was my best friend, and I promised him I’d look out for his girls. You, Faith, and Jackie are like daughters to me.” He let out a long sigh. “I love your mother, too. And I’m worried about her.” His cheeks blushed. “Like a sister, you know.” He’d tried to cover for himself, but Sam knew his feelings for her mother were far from platonic.
“I’m worried about Mom too. Every day she seems more and more despondent.”
“The sooner we figure out the secret behind that rusty key of hers, the better off we’ll all be.”
After an alcohol-free evening, Sam woke the next morning with a clear head for the first time in what seemed like weeks. The aroma of coffee drifting up the stairs motivated her to get out of bed. She took a quick shower, and was searching in her mess of a suitcase for a clean pair of underwear when her cell phone rang. Her stomach somersaulted at the sound of Roberto’s disheartened voice.
“You better get down here right away, Sam. Someone broke in over the weekend and vandalized the market.”
She threw on a pair of wrinkled khaki pants and her green Sweeney’s polo shirt, and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. Jamie was already showered and dressed and eating a bowl of Cheerios while Mack sipped on coffee at the bar.
“Curtis broke into the market. Eli still has my Jeep, Mack. Can you drive us? We don’t have time to wait for Mom and Faith.”
“I’ll come back and get them later,” he said, already heading for the front door with Jamie on his heels. “I’ll help Jamie with his chair, if you’ll alarm the cottage.”
She poured herself a cup of coffee to go, then punched in the four-digit alarm code on the keypad by the door.
“When is this gonna end?” Sam said, once they were on the road, heading toward town.
Jamie turned around to face Sam in the backseat. “No matter how bad it is, Mom, we’ll sort it out. We can deal with anything as long as none of us gets hurt.”
Sam kissed her fingertips and planted them on his cheek. “You have no idea how much I needed someone to remind me of that.”
Maybe some good would come of all their troubles, after all. Maybe, just maybe, Jamie was finally putting Corey’s death into perspective.
Three cop cars were parked haphazardly in the parking lot when they arrived at the market. Sam recognized some of the officers but didn’t see Eli.
“Excuse me for a minute,” Mack said, climbing out of his truck. “I need to have a word with Prospect’s finest.” He slammed his door and marched straight over to the group of policemen.
As soon as she entered the kitchen, she smelled disaster. Literally. The odor was worse than the inlet at low tide.
“Why is it so hot in here?” Jamie asked, fanning himself. “It must be a hundred degrees.”
“Ninety-three according to the thermostat.” Roberto pointed to the thermostat on the wall. “Whoever broke in here turned off the air conditioner and turned on the heat.”
“That explains it,” Jamie said. “It was hot as hell yesterday, and it’s going to be even hotter today.”
“The bastard flipped all the breakers except for the HVAC,” Roberto said. “All our product is ruined except a few things we had in the freezer.”
Willing herself not to cry, Sam turned to Jamie. He gave her a resigned shrug and said, “I guess we better get to work.”
“I don’t even know where to start.” Sam was considering walking out the door and never looking back, when Jamie reached for her hand.
“Remember, Mom. None of us got hurt.”
“Not this time, Jamie. Who’s to say it won’t happen the next time?”
“There are no guarantees in life. At least that’s what Moses says. We do the best we can, and pray it all works out.”
“And Moses is right,” Mack said joining them. “I read those officers the riot act. They assured me they haven’t been slacking off, but agreed there’s room for improvement. They know they have to step it up if they want to catch the slimy little weasel.”
“And just how are they planning to step it up?” Sam asked.
“By putting more men on the case for starters. And I’ve called in reinforcements as well. Bill is in surgery this morning, so I’m on my way back out to the house to get the others.”
After he left, Sam ventured to the front of the market. Circling the showroom, she estimated thousands of dollars of ruined goods. She hoped the insurance premium wasn’t among the past due notices she’d received two weeks ago. As far as she knew, all their bills were current now, although they’d had to dip into their emergency funds to pay for them. Restocking their supplies would deplete the rest of that money.
If Curtis’s goal was to ruin them, he was doing a damn fine job of it.
Sam, Roberto, and Jamie launched into action, emptying out and throwing away. With all the starving people in the world, Sam hated to waste so much food.
Mack returned thirty minutes later with his troops. Faith and Lovie surveyed the damage in silence.
“Why don’t we divide and conquer?” Mack said. “I’ll take Jamie and Sean out in the boat with me to see what we can bring in while you ladies get things in order here.”
“Be careful,” Sam said with a look of concern.
“We can try our secret crab hole,” Sean said.
Mack winked at him. “And I have a few secret holes of my own.”
As they were leaving, Evan Brewster, the owner of the local hardware store, drove up with a truck full of fans in every shape and size. “Morning, Sam.” He tipped his hat. “I understand you might be in need of some ventilation.”
“How’d you—”
“Nothing ever stays a secret for long in Prospect. You of all people should know that,” he said, smiling, his rosy cheeks glowing. Evan always played Santa in Prospect’s annual Christmas parade. He certainly looked the part, with his white hair and beard. He reached in the cab of his truck for a bottle of cleaning liquid. “This here’s the best cleaning product on the market, cuts through odors of any kind.”
Faith and Sam helped Evan unload the fans, and placed them throughout the market. With the front and back doors open for ventilation, the putrid air began to clear out.
“Call me when you’re finished with the fans, and I’ll come back and get them,” he said as he was leaving.
“Thank you, Evan.” Sam stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “All I want for Christmas is a bushel of crabs.”
He chuckled, his big belly shaking. “I’ll see what I can do.”
They worked straight through lunch, racing against the clock to sanitize the market before their new shipment of goods arrived around four. Sam was mopping the showroom floor when she noticed Donna Bennett’s sleek black Jaguar pulling up alongside the curb out front. A WSTB van, the ABC news affiliate out of Charleston, slowed to a stop behind her.
“I need to get in there!” Donna tried to push her way past the policeman standing guard out front, but he held her off. “Sorry, ma’am. This area’s off-limits.”
“This sidewalk is city property.” Donna jabbed her finger at the ground. “You can’t stop me from being here.”
“You’re right. I can’t stop you from standing there.” The policeman pointed at her feet. “But I can, and I will, prevent you from going inside.”
“Samantha will talk to me. We’re old friends.” Donna caught sight of Sam and waved. “There she is. Yoo hoo, Sam. Do you have a minute to speak to the press?”
Sam responded by turning her back on Donna. She wheeled her mop bucket to the back and dumped the water. When she returned, Faith was talking to Mike Neilson, the emergency room doctor who had helped their mother the night of her spell. He’d been in the market several times in recent weeks, but Faith had always been the one to wait on him. They appeared to have grown chummy.
“You remember Mike, don’t you, Sam?” Faith asked when she approached them. “He has been my rock these past few days. He’s the one who put me in touch with the shelter in Columbia.”
“I appreciate you helping my sister. But for her sake, and ours, I’m glad the shelter thing didn’t work out.”
“I tried to tell her …” Mike winked at Faith. “If you’re fortunate to have people who love you, letting your family support you is always a better choice. So many women don’t.”
Sam eyed the doctor closely. Could it be they were more than just friends? Sam would love for her sister to find a nice husband number two. But first they needed to get rid of husband number one.
Sam spotted Eli making his way through the throng of people gathering on the sidewalk. She was surprised at how happy she was to see him.
“Why didn’t you come in the back way?” she asked, greeting him with a peck on the cheek.
“The trashmen are emptying your dumpster. I had to park across the street at the marina.”
Sam wrinkled her brow in confusion. “But Monday isn’t our normal trash day.”
“Mack called them,” Faith said. “I heard him talking to someone down at city hall this morning.”
Sam shook her head in wonder. “Only a veteran boat captain would realize how rank the odor of rotting seafood could get in this heat.”
“You really should talk to them, you know,” Eli said, motioning at the press. “They’re vultures. If you give them something to gnaw on, they’ll go away. If you keep tempting them, they’ll attract others from their flock.”
Sam sighed. “You’re probably right, but I have no idea what to say to them.”
“I’ll go out there with you. If they ask you something you don’t want to answer, tell them your attorney has advised you not to comment.”
“All right.” Sam straightened, holding her head high. “Tell them I’ll be out soon to make a statement. I just need a few minutes to get my thoughts together.”
She started toward the kitchen, but Eli grabbed her arm, holding her back. “For what it’s worth, Sam. I’m sorry we haven’t arrested Curtis yet. It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve been up all night, driving around, checking under every rock where he might be hiding.”
This was news to Sam. After Saturday night, when he’d told her his darkest secrets and she’d refused to accept his advice, she thought he’d written her off as a hopeless drunk. But he hadn’t given up on her after all. He’d simply found another way to help.
She smiled. “That means a lot, Eli. More than you know.”
Twenty minutes later, Sam and Eli appeared before the press. Just as Eli had predicted, yet another news crew had arrived on the scene. The cameramen shined their lights in her face and the reporters shoved their microphones forward, all waiting for Sam’s answers to Donna Bennett’s questions.
Having previously recorded the introduction, Donna got straight down to business. “Is it true that your brother-in-law is the one responsible for vandalizing your market?”
“I … uh …” When Sam glanced nervously at Eli, he signaled for her to continue. “The police are conducting an ongoing investigation. I can’t comment on any suspects they may or may not be pursuing.”
“Is it true that the suspect cut the power supply to your refrigeration units, causing you to lose thousands of dollars of inventory?”
How did Donna Bennett know this? The police were under strict orders to keep all the details about the break-in confidential.
“I’m not sure where you heard that, Ms. Bennett—unless, of course, you are in cahoots with the person responsible.”
Donna didn’t bat an eye. “Considering your recent decline in business, will this drive Sweeney’s into bankruptcy?” she continued.
“Not at a
ll,” Sam said with more conviction than she felt. “It’ll take us a few days, but I hope to have the market fully restocked by the end of the week.”
Donna turned to Eli. “You’ve been here for the better part of the day, Sergeant”—she paused to read his nameplate—“Marshall. Are you spending taxpayer dollars to serve as a personal bodyguard to Ms. Sweeney?”
Eli laughed. “First of all, I’ve only been here for fifteen minutes. Secondly, the Sweeney family has the full support of our police force. We are committed to—”
Sam’s breath caught and all eyes followed her gaze across the street to the marina parking lot where a group of men and boys were gathering. A police officer stepped into the intersection and blew his whistle, stopping the traffic in either direction. The group paraded single file across the street. Each one carried a basket, a bucket, or a bushel, overflowing with seafood and produce—tomatoes and cucumbers and corn. Bringing up the rear was Jamie, Sean, and Mack.
The television crews shifted their focus to Freddy Fisher, the group’s leader, as he brought his troops to a halt in front of Sam.
Sensing a presence behind her, Sam moved sideways to make room for Faith and Lovie.
“What’s all this, Freddy?” Sam asked.
“We heard you were having some trouble,” Freddy said. “The boys and I got together and took up a collection.”
An attractive reporter from the ABC affiliate stepped forward. “Can you tell us more about your relationship with the Sweeney family?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Freddy set his bushel of green beans on the sidewalk and removed his cap, holding it balled up in his fist by his side. “Oscar Sweeney was a friend of ours, a fellow fisherman, a brother. In a small community like ours, that makes his wife, Lovie, and her daughters our family. When they have problems, we have problems.”
The men and boys behind Freddy responded at once with hoops and hollers.
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