A Spirited Gift (33 page)

It was amusing watching all three men scramble to make one cup of tea. I wasn't sure if my teapot and cups could handle all the clattering. Sheriff Riley and Chief Michaels kept butting up against each other. Gramps looked for sugar and I finally told him that I take honey in my tea.

Within a few minutes, I had a cup of tepid tea in my hands. I smiled at all three men, who'd found places to sit down.

Sheriff Riley wiped a red rag across his forehead. “I don't know about you all, but I need something stiffer from Wild Stallions after this. Is this what you go through all the time?”

I sipped my tea—glad that they were scared. “Sometimes. It all depends.”

“We should never have asked you,” Gramps said. “
I
shouldn't have asked you. I'm sorry, Dae. Are you sure you're all right?”

“I'm fine.”

“I hate to ask, but did you see anything?” Chief Michaels inquired reluctantly. Sheriff Riley and Gramps looked at him like he'd grown another head. “Well, it would be a damn shame to have put her through all that and she didn't see anything. Wouldn't it?”

I described Johnny's death scene at the Blue Whale. “I'm afraid I didn't see the killer.” I put the cup of tea on the table next to me. “But he was scared. His hand was shaking when he fired the pistol. He killed Johnny and took two wooden boxes from him. One of them was the music box Johnny had planned to give Miss Elizabeth. The other was hard to make out. I'm not sure.”

“We already knew that gun killed Simpson,” Sheriff Riley said in a defeated way. “That's not what we needed.”

“I picked up a few other details that weren't so clear.” I tried to focus on those other things, but they kept drifting out of my grasp. There was something important about the box the killer had taken with him. I just couldn't quite see what it was. “Someone else has fired the gun twice since then. I'm sure it was a woman. I don't know if she killed Sandi and Matthew.”

“Did you get her name and address?” Chief Michaels had his notebook ready for the information.

“No. I'm sorry. It's not that precise.”

“How about her motive? Could you see into her head?” Sheriff Riley questioned.

“No. But I think it might be obvious.”

The three men looked at me expectantly—I guessed it wasn't obvious to them.

“Matthew wanted to leave Sandi,” I explained. “He didn't want their breakup to affect his career, so he was dragging it out, waiting for the right time. His girlfriend got sick of waiting. She killed Sandi to get on with it. I'm not sure why she killed Matthew.”

“Do you have any proof—besides the hoodoo—any proof at all?” Sheriff Riley asked.

“Maybe your experience is different than mine,” I said. “But usually a man doesn't risk everything to get rid of the only woman in his life. Matthew was worried about his job but still willing to break up with Sandi. That says to me that he had another woman.”

“Anything else?” Chief Michaels asked.

“I think that's it, at least for now.” Gramps took my arm and helped me up. “I think Dae needs to lie down for a while at home. You'll have to excuse her.”

I didn't mind him taking over. My head hurt and my eyes were blurry. I was ready to go home. But I had one last piece of information for them. “There was something else I felt about the man who killed Johnny. I could feel his fear and anger. He was desperate to get that box back. I keep feeling like there's more to tell—I just can't seem to pick up on it right now. I'm sorry.”

The chief and Sheriff Riley started blasting out more questions. I could feel them like arrows piercing into me. I needed to get away. Gramps and I started to go, but then I remembered my conversation with Cole and Molly Black last night. I turned back to the chief and the sheriff. “It has nothing to do with the gun, but did you know Shawn Foxx was seeing someone else too?” I told them what Cole and Molly said last night about seeing him at the restaurant.

“That's the first I've heard of it,” Chief Michaels admitted. “You say the woman he was with might work at Carter Hatley's place?”

“We might've been barking up the wrong tree,” Sheriff Riley said. “You rest up now, Dae. We'll take it from here. And don't worry your pretty head that the intel you got from the pistol was useless.”

Gramps hustled us out of the shop after that, and we got into a shiny new golf cart in the parking lot.

“Where'd you get the new transportation?” I asked.

“I borrowed it. No telling when our insurance claim will come through.”

We careened out of the parking lot. A delivery truck barely missed us and a car blared its horn. That was Gramps's driving. I was never sure if he was still pretending he was driving the sheriff's car on a high-speed chase or what. That's why I preferred to drive.

“Don't you ever listen to me asking you to do something like that again,” he said. “You scared me to death back there. Your face was as white as a sail. You should've told me there could be a problem.”

“You said you thought it was my duty.”

“Horsefeathers! Don't pay attention to me. You do what you think is right. What do I know? I'm just a crazy old man.”

He stopped hard in the driveway when we got to the house. I hugged him, and we sat together in the golf cart for a few minutes. “You're not crazy. You just want to do what you've always done—make Duck a better place.”

“But not at the cost of losing you. You mean everything to me, Dae. And if I haven't said it enough—I love you. If you want to bring your father home for dinner, I'll make the stew. And you just ignore Mad Dog about Kevin. If he makes you happy, that's all that matters. You don't have to be mayor if you don't want to.”

I laughed. “I guess I need to pass out and look pale more often. If I'd known it worked so well, I would've done it all the time when I was a teenager.”

“You always were a sassy girl. Just like your grandmother. I should've warned Kevin from the get-go, only I felt like the two of you would be so perfect together. At least I was right about that, huh?”

“You're right about a lot of things, Gramps. I just try not to let on.” I got out of the golf cart, and my knees gave out on me. Gramps came around and helped me up. We went up the stairs together, and I lay down on my bed.

“I'll get you some tea, honey. You just lie there and take it easy.”

I'd been around Rafe so much in the last few days, I could feel his presence before I could see him. Gramps was barely out the door when the pirate showed himself.

“God's teeth, that was stupid and witless, girl! Just when I think my blood must be running strong in you, ye do something ridiculous. What if you had been killed? What if you had been lost in those past moments?”

“Don't even pretend you care—except for the fact that I couldn't help you if I'd been injured.”

“That's enough for me. It should be enough for you too. Who cares who killed that silly female and her lover? You have a once-in-a-lifetime chance to clear your blood relative's name. That should be enough to occupy your silly female brain.”

“Go away,” I told him. “I have a headache. I don't feel like talking to you.”

“Bah! You don't know if you're up or down. I'm going to have some rum.”

Chapter 44

Gramps coddled and fussed over me the rest of the day. He even skipped his newly restarted pinochle game to stay home. We watched TV together, and I wondered if he'd told everyone to leave us alone that night—the phone didn't ring once.

It was nice and cozy—a good way to recover from the shock of emotions coming from the gun. Kevin had been right about the extreme passion, anger, hatred and fear.

But I pulled out of it, and the next morning I was fine. I'd slept well—no wisecracking pirates or fatal dreams about the past. I was ready to go to Missing Pieces when Mrs. Euly Stanley called me.

“Dae, you won't believe it! I think we've found the magistrate's descendant. Come down to the museum and take a look.”

“I'll be right there,” I told her and closed my cell phone.

“Is this it? Is this the diary?” Rafe demanded as I walked out the front door.

“I don't know yet. She didn't mention the diary—just William Astor's descendant. He or she may not live here anymore. We may have to call or email them to find out if the diary still exists.”

“Go on with ye and your fancy blasted words. Tell me when you know where it is.”

“Since you seem to hang around all the time and listen in on private phone conversations, I don't think that will be necessary.”

I got a “Bah” for my trouble, but it didn't bother me. I was almost running along Duck Road—as excited as the pirate ghost that hovered near my shoulder.

Having him with me made me wonder how many ghosts were out there that most of us couldn't see. Was there a ghost following Luke Helms as he jogged by in the other direction, waving to me as he went? Was Cailey Fargo's Aunt Twinny whispering in her ear as she drove the fire chief's SUV to the station? How many ghosts were trying to communicate but we couldn't hear them?

Marissa was at the Blue Whale's mailbox at the end of the driveway as I went by—breathlessly walking now. “Morning, Dae! You look like you're in a hurry.”

“I was until I realized how out of shape I am. How are the repairs coming along?”

We both looked up with our hands shading our eyes against the bright sun. Kevin was silhouetted before the brilliant blue sky, a pack of shingles slung over one shoulder. He waved to both of us, then disappeared over the crest of the roof.

“Pretty good. Another couple of weeks and it will be like the mayor's conference never happened.” She frowned, her pretty face puckering. “Sorry. Not that it wasn't a good idea. You couldn't know there'd be a storm.”

“Or a murder. But that's okay. I know what you mean. Maybe we'll try it again someday—if Kevin will ever consider it again.”

“He'd do anything for you. It's good when a man cares that much. Not many do—at least not in my experience.”

I smiled, recalling that Marissa was divorced after a disastrous marriage. “I think there's someone for everyone. I hope you find your someone too.”

She didn't respond, just hugged the mail to her and walked back to the Blue Whale. I hated that terrible sadness I felt from her each time we talked. She was so pretty—it was hard to believe men weren't beating down her door. But maybe they were all the wrong men. Shayla seemed to have the same problem.

Rafe urged me toward the museum, and I burst in the door as the group was discussing the exciting implications of their new historic find.

“Come on in, Dae,” Mrs. Stanley said, her faded blue eyes sparkling with the thrill of new knowledge. “There are sticky buns from the bakery and coffee on the side table. Help yourself.”

But I wasn't hungry or thirsty. I sat down and peeked over Mark Samson's shoulder as he looked at a new family tree.

“This is awesome!” he raved. “Not that we didn't know there were magistrates that governed the islands during those early times.”

“But many of their names and family histories have been lost down through the years,” Andy Martin continued. “Look here, Dae. You can see where Magistrate William Astor married Mary Smith-Masterson. They had four children—two sons from her previous marriage that he adopted as his own. Mary and William had two more children together in the eight years they were married.”

“What happened to her?” I asked with no prodding from Rafe.

“Not a clue at this point except that she died and Astor remarried and had two more children,” Mark explained.

I felt let down. Mary was such a valiant woman. I wanted to know more about her. I'd have to research her later. “Did any of the Astor children survive?”

“Yes. Two of the six survived—pretty good numbers back then with all the childhood diseases going around,” Andy added. “Magistrates were a pretty big deal in the late 1700s and early 1800s, so they'd have had all the advantages that were possible.”

“Can you tell which two survived and if they have descendants?” I asked, feeling the anxiety in the pit of my stomach.

“One of them was clearly Mary Masterson's child. It seems he took back his birth father's name after his mother died. He went on to become a governor in Jamaica. The other was from the second wife. He was hanged for murder. Pretty sweet, huh?” Andy teased.

“Not so fast, boys,” Mrs. Stanley countered. “We have no proof as yet that this Mary Smith-Masterson was indeed married to Rafe Masterson. I've never heard that the pirate settled down and had a family—except of course from your perspective, Mark. We need proof before we can consider it history.”