by Shelly West
“Grandma, no, don’t talk like that!”
Grandma stiffened her lip and laughed. “No. No you’re right. I went through a bit of a depression after he left, but that’s long past me now.”
“It’s hard to picture you depressed.”
“Happens to the best of us. Anyway, soon after that, I decided I owed it to myself to live the life I wanted. So I sold the boat and turned this place into an antique store.”
“And what happened to Grandpa and Mom while they lived together?”
“I’m not fully sure. Your grandfather gave me only the briefest of updates. But before he passed away, she had left to join the Navy of all things.”
“And after that? What did Grandpa do?”
Grandma solemnly stared at her plate. “He didn’t take good care of himself once Sarah moved out. His health failed him not long after that.”
“Wow. That’s so sad.”
“He was almost sixty. Too young to be dying.” Grandma paused, hesitating to ask, “So… How is your mother?”
“I’m not really sure. I hardly see her anymore. We talk on the phone, but that’s it. She moves around so much, I stopped being able to keep up. And I guess I had to kind of give up on her too and just focus on my own work and life.”
Grandma slumped her head and nodded slightly before asking, “Do you like your work?”
Abigail paused, the topic having been on her mother for so long that she didn’t expect to talk about herself. “Oh, uh… I mean, it’s better than retail. I get to make my own hours. Own my own car. Rent a decent enough apartment.”
“But do you like it?”
Abigail shrugged. “I don’t think anyone’s really supposed to like work. Not unless they’re really lucky.”
“You know… I could use an extra hand around the store,” Grandma said, her tone light and playful, no pressure intended.
“Man, Grandma. You’re gonna have to let me sleep on that.”
“Unless, of course, you’ve got strong roots in that city. But I thought I’d give you the option. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re an outstanding young woman, and I’d be honored to have you help with the store.”
Abigail blushed and poked away at her food. She certainly didn’t have strong roots in the city. Thor was her closest companion, and he could come with her anywhere she went. She had made more friendly connections here than she ever did in all her years living in the city.
It was a tempting offer, but she knew nothing was that easy. She had a steady salary in the city. Could she really make a living here?
Grandma stood, bringing the casserole to the fridge. “Just think about it. In the meanwhile, I really ought to turn in for the night. It’s been quite the day.”
“All right. Good night, Grandma. I’ll take care of the dishes.”
Grandma patted Abigail’s shoulder before heading upstairs, Missy in tow.
*
After she finished cleaning up, Abigail turned to Thor. “C’mon, boy. We oughta go to bed too.” She turned off the lights and headed up, changing into something more comfy. Once she was in a light shirt and shorts, she sat at the foot of her mother’s childhood bed and looked around the room.
Why throw this all away? Her mother grew up in such a nice and cozy home—much nicer than the Navy housing Abigail grew up in. Abigail thought back on how often she and her mother would have to move around, never really having a place to settle into, or a town to get familiar with.
What would it have been like to live in one place, to get to know one’s neighbor, one’s town?
Grandma’s explanation for the falling out between her and Abigail’s mother seemed to be missing an actual reason. Sure, Abigail knew her mother would cut people off with only the faintest of excuses, but what made her become that way? How could she treat Grandma like that?
Abigail sighed. Perhaps the discordant parenting styles was enough to make her mother a mess. With Abigail’s grandfather advocating a hands-off approach with her mother, while Grandma insisted on teaching discipline, that would certainly result in a child picking sides…
She looked up at her mother’s childhood desk, where she had found a stack of diaries earlier. What if the answer could be found in one of her mother’s entries?
Abigail sat at the desk and pulled out a diary from the top of the stack. Her mother sure was prolific… Ever since she started the diaries at the age of ten, it seemed she made a new entry every day.
A cursory glance of the first diary revealed little; just that her mother loved catching bugs and studying science. Half the content simply seemed to be things she had learned that day.
Abigail moved on to the next diary. Age eleven now, and little had changed. Abigail moved on again. Age twelve. Now her mother had an ant farm and had joined a science club. Age thirteen… Abigail slowed her reading down, thinking she might have found something relevant.
‘So, Diary,’ the entry began. ‘I met a boy. He’s pretty cute, a grade ahead of me. He used to think I was a total nerd, but decided to talk to me today because he likes the band on my T-shirt. I’m playing hard to get, though. Told him I don’t date drummers. If only he knew I haven’t dated anyone before!
‘Could he end up being my first boyfriend? He let me borrow a cassette tape that was in his Walkman. He doesn’t know, but I don’t have a cassette player. Or much of anything, really. I’m going to tell him I liked the music though when I see him at school tomorrow. Ta! P.S. His name is Bobby.’
Er… Bobby was a common name, right? At least that was what Abigail told herself. But Bobby Kent was the right age, and it was a small town.
Abigail settled in, wondering if this boy was the start of her mother’s tensions with Grandma. She scanned until she found a particularly smudged page dated six months after the previous entry she had read.
‘Dear Diary. Bobby found out, and he told me we’re done. He said he ‘doesn’t play those games.’ What does that even mean? I thought he’d jump at the opportunity to prove his love to me, but instead he rejects me?
‘Now I’m stuck with Howard. I don’t even like him, I just thought it’d spice things up. Bobby hasn’t kissed me after all this time, so I thought he just needed a push. Figures he’d wimp out!’
Abigail sighed and started scanning the content again. These tactics her mother employed were all too familiar, and to think little Sarah Lane started so early. The entry went on for pages, with no mention of either parent.
Her eyelids were growing heavy, and she was no closer to an answer, so she set the diaries aside for the time being. Did her mother really change just like that? From a bright young girl obsessed with insects and science, to a teenager playing mind games with innocent boys?
Abigail liked to think there was a reason behind everything, but perhaps some things just… happened. And if that were the case, it really was a shame.
Chapter 21
Abigail awoke to the sound of Missy giving somebody downstairs a what for. Thor groaned and gave Abigail a look, as if to say, “Let me go down there and set her straight.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Abigail said with a yawn. “I’m awake now. Let’s go see if she’s barking at someone who deserves it, or if it’s just another false alarm.”
She rolled off the small bed and tossed on some clothes. Thor took the lead, heading down the steep stairs like a runaway train. Abigail made her way down after him, seeing Sheriff Wilson and Grandma talking in a side room.
Sheriff Wilson turned, the crinkled skin around his baggy eyes making him look like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Abigail,” Grandma said in greeting. “You’ve come down just in time. Willy has some news.”
“Oh! One moment.” Abigail couldn’t tell from Grandma’s tone if the news was good or bad. Most likely Sheriff Wilson had yet to reveal it, with Missy’s rapturous welcome only now coming to a stop. So Abigail let Thor out, then stood next to Grandma, awaiting the news.
Sheriff Wilson fiddled wi
th the frayed rim of his hat. “Okay. The reason I’ve come here this morning is because I’m plain stumped.”
Grandma asked, “How’s that?”
“I discovered some things that I think you could further enlighten me on. I really ought to not tell you too many details considering this is an active investigation, but then again, you are an expert on these things…”
“Out with it, Willy,” Grandma said, poking him in the side.
“All right, all right. So I found a bunch of letters on Reginald’s person. Old ones, one side of an exchange between the Lebeaus and the Fischers.”
“Whose side?”
“From a Fischer to a Lebeau, from what I could gather of their context. It wasn’t signed. Must’ve been a secret exchange, considering how cryptic they were.”
“And?”
“The letters kept referring to a map hidden within a ship. It was a bit of a riddle, but I mulled it over until something clicked.”
“And?” Grandma prodded. Abigail could understand her impatience. Sheriff Wilson had a roundabout way of getting to the point.
“I concluded the map was hidden inside the Lafayette. So I headed over to the ship to see what I could find. Dag was very cooperative and helped me search her high and low. We weren’t having much luck, and then it hit me.”
He didn’t continue, waiting for a reaction. Grandma was at her wit’s end. “Oh, out with it already!”
“I realized the map wasn’t in the actual ship, but rather in your model of the Lafayette. Conveniently enough for me, I had it stored away in evidence, so I pulled it out, took a gander, and what do you know? I discovered that the model could be opened up. There’s enough room in the hull to hide something inside it… A small folded map, for instance.”
Grandma exchanged a look with Abigail. “My word. So the broken bottle wasn’t an accident after all.”
“That’s my current theory, anyhow. Another thing, the letters mentioned Dead Man’s Cape. That’s the old name for those islands off the coast.”
Now Abigail had something to contribute. “Dag told me those islands are like nature preserves. A bit too treacherous for your average boat to traverse.”
“That’s right,” Sheriff Wilson said. “And I think the map must’ve led to some sorta treasure buried somewhere in the Cape. The letters kept mentioning something of value, hidden away. So whoever has that map, they know where the treasure is, and I’m worried they very well could have dug it up already and skipped town.”
“But not just anybody can travel those waters.”
“I know. It’s still in the realm of possibility though. We’re keeping an eye on the islands now, just in case. But somebody else knew about the map, and that somebody killed Reginald.”
Abigail looked down at her feet, wondering if she should tell Sheriff Wilson what she had learned yesterday. Grandma seemed to know what was going through her mind, and she nodded in solemn encouragement.
Abigail nodded back, before saying, “I really don’t want to implicate him, but I know not long before Reginald’s murder, he and Kirby got into a heated argument regarding the Lafayette. Exactly what the argument was about, I don’t know.”
Sheriff Wilson flipped open a notebook and jotted something down. “I see. I’ll look into that. I gotta follow any lead I can get, considering how much time has already passed.”
He put his hat on then gave the both of them a casual salute. “I’ll leave you two to it. Be careful, would you?”
Grandma smiled. “Of course, Willy. You stay safe too.”
He headed out, leaving Abigail and Grandma to ponder in silence. Abigail really hoped she didn’t just send Sheriff Wilson down the wrong path, but time was of the essence.
Chapter 22
Alone again, Abigail and Grandma shared a quizzical frown. Abigail spoke first: “Some stuff’s starting to connect, huh? Whatever this is about, the murder’s related to this whole Lebeau and Fischer feud.”
Grandma nodded. “Makes me wonder if we’re on the wrong track. A Lebeau or Fischer has to be involved… right?”
“It at least starts with a Lebeau or Fischer. The letters and map are key to this whole thing. And you know who’s connected to both the map and the letters?”
Grandma didn’t need a hint. “Piper. Why don’t I call her?”
Abigail hesitated—not because she didn’t think Piper could be instrumental in solving the case—but rather because she wanted time alone with Grandma. But then again, this whole thing was rather fun, and would give them some memories they’d never forget…
“Yeah, call her.”
Grandma walked over to the hanging rotary phone. She dialed up Piper, smirking at Abigail as the other end connected. “Piper? Oh, I have some awful news, but I don’t want to share it over the phone. Would you come over?”
Abigail watched Grandma’s face, seeing that Piper’s answer was an affirmative one.
“Good, I’ll see you soon.” She hung up the phone and turned to Abigail.
“Awful news?”
“Oh, that the sheriff will be keeping the model in evidence. The model Ernest had of her family’s ship. I’ll be so distraught about it that Piper can’t help but tell me whatever she must to make me feel better. And that’s when we strike about the content of those letters!”
Abigail’s eyebrow arched in disbelief. This old spitfire sure knew how to work people!
*
Piper arrived in a puttering old Ford. She must’ve pushed that antique car to the limit, because she spared Grandma and Abigail no time to refine their interviewing strategy.
Piper rushed up the steps, her frizzy red hair in a tussle. “What is it, Mrs. Lane?”
Grandma motioned that she follow them into the kitchen, where they could all sit down. Piper took her seat, looking like a wind-up doll whose spring was about to snap.
Grandma put on a somber expression. “That Lafayette model Ernest gave me for safekeeping… Well, it seems I won’t be getting it back from Willy, at least not until this murder business is squared away.”
“W-why not? Does it have the murderer’s fingerprints on it or something?”
“Oh, if only it were that simple. No, it seems to be a key component to some elaborate treasure hunt.”
Piper frowned, her pert face somehow becoming more pert. “Um. Treasure hunt?”
“You don’t know? It seems there’s some important piece of treasure tied into your family’s history. Your family, and the Lebeaus.”
Piper had no words.
Grandma pressed further, “The model had a map inside. A map to a treasure, no doubt. Sheriff Wilson had surmised as much from the letters he found on Reginald.”
“That’s weird. I never heard anything about any sort of treasure.”
Grandma leaned forward. “And yet Reginald did. I wonder how he knew?”
Piper’s lips tightened into a straight line.
“Cookie?” Grandma offered, almost menacingly.
“N-no, thanks, Mrs. Lane.”
“Tell me what you know, Piper. Is Reginald some long-lost Fischer?”
Piper shot straight up. “No! I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I were in any way related to that slimy… beady-eyed… miscreant!”
Abigail laughed. “Wow, you really hate that guy.”
Piper groaned. “Do I ever. Not that I would murder him or anything.”
“Remind me again why you hate him so much?”
“He bought those old letters from Ernest a while back—letters that my great great grandfather wrote. I have the Lebeau side of the correspondence, tucked somewhere safe in the family museum, but they hardly make any sense. If I had the Fischer side of the correspondence, I figured maybe I could piece everything together, but Reginald robbed me of that chance by buying the letters himself and not letting anyone look at them.”
Grandma noted, “Those letters are in police custody now.”
Piper tilted her head. “Oh? Well, I guess that’
s better than them being lost.”
“Those letters mentioned something rather curious. They spoke of a hidden compartment inside the model. They’re the only reason why we know my ship in a bottle used to have a map inside, before Reginald apparently broke it open and stole it.”
Grandma and Abigail both watched Piper’s face for a reaction. However, instead of any sign of guilt, she seemed to be coming to a realization. “Do you want to hear about a bit of family history that isn’t quite common knowledge?”
Grandma did a terrible job of hiding her enthusiasm. “Why, of course, Piper.”
“Okay, so you know how it’s sorta this thing, how the pirate Lebeaus and the whaler Fischers are the greatest maritime rivals in this coast’s history?” Piper sighed. “While that sells a lot of memorabilia and books, it turns out that the two original patriarchs of the family actually didn’t hate each other so much. At least, not in their later years. They had come to look back on their rivalry with a sort of fondness.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. But unfortunately their children still hated each other. Still did whatever they could to sabotage one another’s businesses and riches. In the end, it had left the Lebeaus destitute, which only deepened the rivalry. But the two original patriarchs… In the letters I have, it seems they lamented the hatred that they had unintentionally sowed into their families. It had started out as a friendly rivalry, nothing more. The letters mentioned something cryptic about a plan to bring the families together… And I’m thinking… Maybe this treasure was it?”
Grandma frowned. “Interesting.”
Abigail wasn’t so easily pleased. “Why didn’t you tell us all this before, Piper?”
Piper looked like a thief in the spotlight. “I-I didn’t know it was relevant. At least, not until Mrs. Lane told me about her ship model having a map in it. I mean, I could have tried cooperating with a Lebeau to see if we could figure out what this plan was, but I thought it’d be too risky.”