by MJ Miller
“If I may have your silence please,” Mrs. Bowers called out suddenly, and all conversation ceased.
“You are not to reveal to the other couples what your mission is. After supper, Mr. Peabody will lead each of you to your destination. When you have completed your task, you will be escorted back to the library where we will try to solve the puzzle.”
Luce spoke without thinking, as was her habit.
“So this is like a game of Clue then?” She cringed as their host glared at her.
“Not at all, my dear. This is no game at all.” With that, she rang a little bell in front of her and the footman entered with a silver domed platter.
Andy gave Luce’s hand one more squeeze and she glanced over at him. Was it just her or was this over-the-top crazy? By the look on his face, raised brow, slight smirk, he agreed with the latter.
“Is there a list of clues? This just says collect seven clues?” Annie asked, a bit confused. “Usually a scavenger hunt lists the items you must find.”
“You must decide whether an item is a bona-fide clue or not,” she replied succinctly.
“Now. Tell me a bit about each of you.” Suddenly Mrs. Bowers was friendly? Luce was skeptical. But she’d play along.
“Mr. Gregory, please, if you would begin?” Mrs. Bowers looked pointedly at Chris.
“Well, I’m a writer. You may already be aware, I write mysteries. I have several series out now, and just launched a new one last year.”
“Ah yes. Max Colby, the hopelessly romantic sheriff. I believe the lovely young woman next to you was your muse, no?”
“Guilty as charged,” Chris laughed, and placed his arm around Annie, who was beaming. Her long lost love had become a bestselling author and Annie was his inspiration.
“You are quite lucky, young man, not everyone gets second chances, and you, Ms. Porter, I take it, realize that, don’t you?” She looked directly at Annie, who nodded.
“I do Mrs. Bowers, believe me. I do.”
“Ms. Stolz, you are in publishing as well, no?” Mrs. Bowers turned her attention to Jen and Bill. “Do you work for Mr. Simeon then? His assistant perhaps?” Uh oh, Luce thought, that was a bit insulting.
“Actually, no, I’m an editor as well.” Jen wasn’t volunteering any more than that. She and Mark were actually competitors. Always seeking out up and coming authors. She was probably ticked off at the assumption, but Jen was too nice to let it show.
“And Mr. Stolz, what is it you do?”
“A bit of this and that I suppose. I freelance.” Bill grinned, an infectious smile that usually keeps anyone from prying further. Luce had been down this road before. None of them knew what Bill actually did. They assumed he was a handyman of some sort, as he had a full workshop in his garage. But whenever anyone asked, Jen always laughed and said he did odd jobs. But the money was good. Clearly tonight would reveal no more than usual.
Mark and Julie were next.
“Mr. Simeon, you work with Mr. Gregory, do I have that right? You’re his editor?”
“Yes, I’ve been working with him since his debut novel. Though really at this point our friendship is really more important than our working relationship.”
“And Mrs. Simeon, what is it you do?” Her tone was slightly condescending again, and Luce had a feeling that Mrs. Bowers had no appreciation for working women.
“I have a little girl, and she takes up a lot of my time.” Julie smiled sweetly. She also was quite a popular blogger but they all knew she was just playing the part. And it was quite effective. For the first time since she’d stepped into the room, Mrs. Bowers actually smiled.
“Well isn’t that lovely, dear, a good old-fashioned girl. Nobody appreciates that anymore.”
Luce knew what was coming next. She was probably going to get the death stare.
“And you, Ms. Porter? You are a career woman, are you not? TV is it?” Her tone rang with disdain. Luce cringed knowing that was just the beginning. “You must be what, 40 or so? In my day you’d be a thornback twice over.”
Luce felt her face flush with anger. And all decorum was lost.
Back straight, head high, she got ready to give as good as she got. But Andy beat her to it. Resting an arm on the back of her shoulders, Andy smiled.
“Never fret, Mrs. Bowers, Luce won’t end up alone. Will you sweetheart? No, of course not. But you know she’s just been waiting for her sister to get settled down. She’s always been devoted, you know.”
Luce pasted a smile on her face as she kicked him in the shin under the table. She wasn’t sure who she was angrier with. The primped up hostess or Andy. She did realize it was probably all an act for him, and he was just trying to help. Though the smirk on his face was not helping his cause.
As the footman began serving, conversation had ceased once again, and Luce looked across the table and studied her sister. She looked happy. Not just happy. Ecstatic. Which is all Luce ever wanted for her sister. The last few years had not been kind to them. Especially for Annie. The dreamer in the family. The only thing she’d ever really wanted was what she had right now. It just took a whole lot of heartache to get it. And now maybe, just maybe it was Luce’s turn. She stole another glance at Andy and mentally kicked herself. She’d learned the hard way not to base her own happiness on anyone else. Maybe though, there was room for a little flexibility?
Her eyes next flicked over to Jen and Bill. Jen and Annie had one of those friendships that Luce envied. They’d met in a thrift store and just clicked. It must have been serendipity, for without Jen, Annie might never have found Chris again. Annie was always harping about fate. If Annie hadn’t met Jen, she wouldn’t have found Chris. Luce sighed. And if Annie hadn’t found Chris, she wouldn’t have been terrorized by a stalker, and they’d never have met Andy. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to all this. No time for it now, she thought, as she leaned back to allow the food to be served. Eat, relax, find clues, solve the mystery. Focus, Luce, focus, she told herself.
Chapter Ten
Dinner was relatively quiet; it seemed conversation took a back seat to proper etiquette. Luce took the opportunity to study Mrs. Bowers. Noticing her hands were smooth and pampered. Her makeup was flawless. If she were to guess, she’d say born into money and lots of it. She’d googled the estate. It had been built by her late husband’s great grandfather, sometime in the nineteenth Century. She’d yet to research the woman herself, but she would over the weekend. Now that she’d met her, she had every intention of digging deeper. If only to learn whatever deep dark secret she held. Luce was certain there was one.
At precisely seven pm, the towering grandfather clock at the end of the room began to sound. Mr. Peabody appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Shall we begin? Mr. Holman, if you and Ms. Porter would follow me.”
Luce scowled. His tone was haughty and rather abrupt. But she allowed Andy to pull out her chair and followed him as they headed out of the dining room. Looking back, she locked eyes with her sister, who seemed perfectly content. Excited even. But Luce couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with this whole evening’s events. Whether it was the hostess with the mostest attitude or the generally creepy ambiance, she wasn’t sure. But it clearly wasn’t what she’d been expecting. And by the looks of it, Andy wasn’t feeling it either. She noticed he’d stiffened up a bit as if he was on alert. He again placed his hand on the small of her back, to usher her out of the room, and as he did so, leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“Stick with me. Just follow my lead.”
Luce darted a glance up at his face. He was dead serious. Something was off, and he felt it too.
They were led into the main foyer, then up the circular staircase to some sort of mezzanine level, then down a hall through a set of French doors.
Luce gasped softly; the room was stunning. Jane Austen would have a field day with this. The room was large, with a domed ceiling painted with a magnificent seascape. Antique wall sconce lighting g
ave it atmosphere, reflecting their glow on the glistening marble floors. The pièce de résistance, though, was an entire wall featuring small personal balconies—the kind used by illicit lovers in all those historical novels she loved to read.
Andy nodded towards them and smiled, raising a brow, causing Luce to give him a warning glance. They’d been around each other enough, and this was not his usual MO. Oh, he liked to tease her, but it had always been more of a snide teasing. At least she’d thought so. This wasn’t. Clearly, he had ideas about them. Or maybe not. Maybe her imagination was running wild.
“I’ll leave you here, you have one hour to find the clues, then I will return and take you back to the library.” Mr. Peabody gave a short bow and departed, leaving Luce and Andy still gazing about and shaking their heads.
Still whispering, Andy leaned down once more. “There are cameras in here, so don’t say or do anything you don’t want them to see or hear. Clear?”
Luce glanced up in the corner, saw the red dot on the camera. She hadn’t expected that. Maybe it was just security. Maybe. But she nodded at him and smiled, as if they were sharing a secret. She could play along.
“Well, sweetheart, where shall we start?” Luce used the same phony endearment he had.
Andy looked about, then pointed to a window overlooking the water.
“There, I think, by the window, honeybunch.” He smirked, and Luce actually let out a laugh.
“There’s a window seat, usually a good hiding spot, no?” Luce looked at Andy for confirmation. He nodded, and they headed over in that direction.
The east wall of the Ballroom was an alternating pattern of balconies and majestic tall narrow windows in between. And each of the windows had a window seat. Luce held her finger out and counted seven.
“I know where you’re going with that, and it’s too easy. It’s never the obvious.” Andy smirked and gave a small shake of his head. “Nice try, though.”
“Au contraire, detective, it’s always the obvious.” Luce laughed and crouched down to lift up the padded bench on the first one to see what was hidden inside, if anything.
“Aha! Told you.” Luce cried triumphantly as she reached in and pulled out a large folder with a string closure. Setting the lid down, she sat and began to open it. The seat was built for two, and Andy took a seat next to her and began looking over her shoulder as she slid the contents out.
It was a single piece of paper with what appeared to be a watercolor print of a ship. A ship that looked exactly like the one she’d seen as a kid. She was stunned. Not by the picture, though, rather by her reaction. She wasn’t surprised. She should have been, but she wasn’t.
“That’s it,” Andy said softly. “That’s the ghost ship.”
Luce turned to look at him, narrowing her eyes.
“How do you know that?”
“Isn’t it? Isn’t that the ship you saw?”
“Maybe, but maybe it’s any old ship. Maybe they’re trying to fool us. You said it like you knew, Andy. Like you were sure.”
Andy looked away for a moment, then looked back at Luce, as if trying to decide something.
“Out with it, detective.”
He glanced up at the corner where the camera was. Luce followed his gaze.
“Later,” he said softly. Luce nodded as she looked back down at the drawing.
“Here, give that to me, I’ll hang on to it. Let’s go to the next one,” Andy said quietly.
As they walked the few steps over to the next seat, Luce paused suddenly.
“I feel like they made this deliberately easy, Andy. Why would they do that?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions yet, Luce, let’s see what’s in box number two first, shall we?”
Luce lifted the next seat lid, and once again, the clue was right there. This time, a small plastic bag containing the remnants of a seaman’s patch. Frayed and faded, they could still make out the design—an anchor with a chain. Luce looked at Andy, who nodded, holding out his hand. He slipped the bag into the folder he was carrying, and they headed silently over to the next one.
“This is way too easy, Andy,” Luce muttered.
“Seems so, Luce, but let’s wait and see how it all plays out.”
Luce detected a note of seriousness in his voice. She sensed they were on the same page.
The next window seat contained a flask, tarnished and old. No markings, though.
Three down four to go, Luce thought. She felt a sudden chill as they approached the next one and shivered.
“Cold?” Andy asked.
“Actually no, just a sudden chill. Maybe there’s an open window somewhere.”
Andy looked around, and just as he suspected, all the windows were closed. He’d felt a chill at the same moment. He also had a sense that not only were there cameras in the room, someone was watching them. His instincts told him this wasn’t all fun and games. Something was going on here, behind the scenes.
“Remember what I said, Luce. Stay close, OK?” Andy’s voice was barely audible, but Luce heard him. And right now, she was really not feeling all that comfortable anyway, so she didn’t argue.
She lifted the next seat and reached in to grab another plastic bag. Lifting it out, she took one look, gasped, and dropped it.
“What the hell? What’s wrong, Luce?” Andy looked at her with concern.
She nodded at the bag inside the compartment.
Reaching in, he realized as soon as the light hit it what it was. A knife. Not just any knife. A knife coated with what appeared to be bloodstains.
“Relax, it’s paint, Luce. Just paint.” Though he had to admit, it looked incredibly authentic—a bloody knife. “Damn, what the hell is that about?” he muttered to himself.
“I know it’s paint, it just startled me,” Luce huffed out. She was embarrassed to have reacted like such an amateur.
“You OK?” Andy asked, knowing she wasn’t really.
“Of course, let’s move on,” Luce said briskly and headed to window seat number five. “But maybe you should see what’s in this one,” Luce offered. “You know, to be fair.”
Andy smiled to himself and took the hint. Let her put on a brave face.
He reached in and grabbed a small envelope lying at the bottom.
It was old, clearly. In fact, so old, Andy paused and took out a pair of thin plastic gloves from an inside pocket in his blazer. Luce rolled her eyes. Figures, she thought. Of course, he carries gloves.
She waited patiently while he oh so carefully opened the envelope and slid out an even older looking scrap of paper. Thin, like parchment.
“Well, what is it?” Luce whispered with a bit of impatience. Andy’s expression was curious, she thought. Eyes narrowed; lips pursed.
“A bill of sale.”
“What kind of sale.”
Andy looked at Luce with an odd expression.
“It appears to be a bill of sale for a slave.”
Luce’s eyes widened as she held out her hand. “Let me see.”
“Be careful, I’ll hold it, as it’s fragile and I’ve got the gloves on.” Luce shook her head and tried to read it as he held it flat on his palm.
“Damn,” Luce whispered. “It is. One female. 70 Pounds. Is that her weight or the cost?” Luce didn’t wait for an answer. “To be delivered on the morrow to… crap, that’s where it ends. But at least there’s a date at the top. 10 June, oh my god, that’s today. June 10th.” The year is smudged but looks like 1790. She looked back up at Andy, and their gazes locked. They knew as silly as this whole mystery dinner was, this wasn’t. This felt all too real.
They retrieved the last two clues. One was a wax insignia sealer, the other a broken seashell.
Having found all seven clues, with plenty of time to spare, they slipped out onto one of the balconies and sat down on the stone bench. All the items were now in the folder. Luce clasped her hands together nervously in her lap.
“I don’t like this, Andy. It’s not fun. I thought t
his would be fun. It’s not. Something terrible happened here. I can feel it. And please don’t tell me I’m imagining things, I’m not.” She spoke quietly. Nervously.
“I know.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You do?”
“Something I probably should have mentioned earlier.”
“What’s that?”
“I told you we used to try to swim out to the lighthouse?”
“And?”
“I saw it too.”
Chapter Eleven
“What?” Luce hissed. “You’ve seen the Ghost Ship and didn’t bother to say a word?” her eyes narrowed. Here she had been revealing her deepest secrets, and he certainly hadn’t returned the favor. She stood and paced the balcony. “What kind of partner are you anyway?”
“Pretty hot I’m told,” Andy replied, laughing and wiggling his eyebrows. Luce pursed her lips, trying not to laugh.
“OK, points for that. So, you saw the same ship I did? In the same spot? Execution Rocks?” Luce asked, then went on without waiting for another reply. “How old were you? When was that?”
“Summer of ’94. I was 11. You?”
“Me too. Same year. Same age. Huh, I thought you were older than me,” Luce chuckled. “Being bossy and all,” she added.
“I remember the date too. The day I saw it. Maybe you should sit back down.” Andy reached up and grabbed her hand to tug her back to the bench.
She sat down, and looked at him, curious.
“It was my friend Gordy’s birthday. June 10th.” Andy waited for Luce to react.
“I wish I could remember the date I saw it, but it was so long ago. I just know it was summer.”
“OK, listen, Luce, think. Try to remember anything else about that day. Maybe why you went sailing, was it something you did every weekend? Was there something else?”
“I don’t know. I mean, school was over, so we were kind of celebrating. I know that.”
“Good, that’s good. Now you were celebrating school being out, we can look up the school calendar and approximate.”