A Timely Vision (30 page)

“We’re down for the count,” Gramps said. “I’ll call Ronnie now. He should know about this.”

A weird idea popped into my head. “What if we act like we found the power of attorney?”

“What would that accomplish?” Kevin asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe if Jerry thought we could stop the auction, he’d make some move that would incriminate him. That could work, right, Gramps?”

“Maybe,” Gramps said. “I suppose it could buy you some time. But you’ll have to be careful, Dae, or the whole thing will backfire on you.”

“What kind of backfire?” Since I assumed I’d be taking all of the risk, I thought I should know.

“Lawsuits. Maybe fraud charges,” Kevin counted out for me. “If you could keep from putting anything in writing and be
really
careful how you word it, you might be able to get away with it.”

“Right now I only need to get away with something for a couple of days,” I reminded him. “I guess either they take the bait or not.”

“You could be in danger,” Gramps pointed out. “If Jerry was willing to hire someone to kill Lizzie, or whatever happened, he won’t think twice about getting rid of a small-town mayor.”

I hadn’t thought of that. It was a valid point. Who knew what Jerry was capable of if he were desperate enough? I’d be taking on the risk that he might send someone after me. I pushed aside my reservations. “Okay. Let’s do it. Where do you think we should start?”

Gramps laughed. “Probably with Mary Lou. Besides loving turtles, she has an uncommon love for gossip. She makes a good lemon meringue pie too. And she likes to cuddle.”

“That’s about all I need to know on that subject.” I stopped him. “Let’s get going. Before Wednesday, we could have this spread all over the Outer Banks.”

 

And it was easy. By seven p.m. Monday night, I had heard a short piece on the radio about finding new evidence in the murder case of Mrs. Elizabeth Simpson. I saw pictures of me flash twice on the TV at eight. The reference was vague, but the idea was that I had new information that might stop the auction of the properties and possibly point out who killed Miss Elizabeth.

There were five of us at my house for supper on Monday night when we heard the updated news story. Tim was kind of the odd man out since Kevin and I were there with Gramps and Mary Lou. Gramps had cautioned me against saying anything to anyone else. He didn’t even tell Mary Lou the truth, and I followed his lead.

“Wow!” Tim looked at me. “So what’s this new information in the murder case? Dish it out, girl.”

“You’ve been hanging around with Shayla for too long.” I laughed at his words. “But there’s nothing I can really say about what I know. The DA told me to keep my mouth shut.”

Tim was impressed but disappointed. “I suppose
Kevin
knows all about it.”

“Not exactly. He knows as much as you do.” I lied, but it was for the sake of expediency. If Tim knew Kevin knew, he’d pout and complain, maybe even tell other people, which would mess up our plan.

The doorbell rang, and since Gramps was dishing out blueberry cobbler, I went to answer it. Chuck Sparks stood on the stairs, glaring at me. “What kind of new information do you have, Mayor? I think I deserve to know.”

I sighed. Another person who felt entitled. But it was a good thing. If Chuck knew about it, then Jerry knew about it. It was what I’d wanted, but it was eight P.M. now and I was beginning to worry. There might be no peace until this blew over. “Would you like to come in, Chuck?”

He nodded and stalked inside. “If there’s something else going on, you can trust me to keep a secret.”

“Really? Why would I trust you with information that could keep you from selling those properties?”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair. This is my first big sale. We’ve gone through a lot to plan for this. Do you know what a case of champagne costs?”

I’d had about enough of his whining. “Does it matter to you at all that the woman they have in custody for killing her sister isn’t guilty? Or that this house has been in her family for several generations and she doesn’t want to lose it?”

He looked abashed for a second or two. Then his real-estate-agent killer-shark instincts kicked in again. “It’s not for us to decide who’s guilty and who’s not. The fact of the matter is that the property belongs to Jerry’s grandfather now and Jerry has his power of attorney to do what’s best with all of the family property.”

I stepped closer to him. We were about the same height. “Did it ever occur to
you
that someone else might have a legal document that trumps Jerry’s power of attorney? Silas Butler isn’t the only one who wanted someone to take care of his property.”

“There’s no power of attorney or any other legal document listed at the Dare County Courthouse for
either
of the sisters.” He sniffed in a righteous way. “Jerry told me so.”

“I’m sorry, Chuck.” I managed a small smile. “Jerry’s wrong. He’s about to find that out. Maybe you should break the bad news to him before I give it to the media.”

He stared at me as though trying to decide if I were telling the truth. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, Mayor, but I’d be careful if I were you. Jerry isn’t a good man to cross.”

“Is that a threat?” Kevin asked from the doorway.

Chuck backed down right away. He thrust his hands into his pockets. “I’m just saying.”

“Thanks for the warning.” I opened the front door. “Good night, Chuck.”

“It won’t get any easier,” Kevin warned when Chuck was gone. “At least not for the next couple days. You should probably plan to be with someone all the time.”

Tim came up behind him, a wide grin plastered on his face. “I could spend the night, if that would help.”

 

Chuck was the last disturbance at the house before everyone, including Tim, went home. Once the coffee and the blueberry cobbler were gone, the conversation had more lulls than talk. It had been another long day, and Tuesday didn’t promise to be any better.

I stayed up late watching a romantic spy film on TV, thinking they might make a movie out of my part in this whole affair with Miss Mildred. Tuesday morning dawned warm and clear with no portent of the day’s activities to come.

I got up, showered, and dressed in black shorts and a black tank top. I’d decided to avoid bright colors for a while, reasoning that they might make me an easier target.

Gramps had left me a note on the table saying that he’d gone to help Mary Lou get ready for Turtle Rescue Day. He reminded me to be careful and said he’d see me later.

I was too nervous to eat. I crammed a Pop-Tart into my purse and started out the door. I paused a moment, hand on the doorknob, wondering what was on the other side. I don’t usually get feelings of dread over my decisions, but I had a moment of deep anxiety about what I’d causally offered to do. Making myself a target for killers had
seemed
like a good idea at the time. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

But then I took hold of myself and stuck a small can of Gramps’s pepper spray next to the Pop-Tart package in my purse. He kept a case of the stuff in the garage. I had never used it before, although he’d taught me how when I was a teenager and insisted I carry it on dates.

Feeling better, I opened the front door and almost walked into Kevin. His fist was outstretched to knock on the door.

“Good morning!” I was surprised and pleased to see him there. “Gramps is gone for the day.” It was the first thing that entered my mind. After I’d said it, I regretted it. I probably sounded kind of lame to him.

“Good morning. I’m not here to see your grandfather. I’m here to collect my painting assistant.”

“I can give you a couple of hours this evening after I close Missing Pieces,” I offered. “I have to lead tai chi at the park this morning before I open. It’s a mayor thing.”

“That’s okay. Later is good. I’ll walk over to the park with you.”

I locked the door behind me, realizing with a smile why he was really here. “You’re my bodyguard, right? You said someone should be with me.”

He laughed as we walked down the drive to Duck Road. “I didn’t mean to cause that problem with Tim last night. Did you have trouble getting him to go home?”

“Not at all,” I assured him. “Tim offers to spend the night all the time. It goes along with proposing. He and Shayla must’ve broken up again.”

“Short relationship.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I appreciate you worrying about me. But do you really think anyone will try to take me out right here on Duck Road?”

“Miss Elizabeth was right in the heart of Duck when they took her out.”

I thought about that as we walked in the early morning sunshine. A few cars passed us, but traffic was still light. “That’s kind of ominous, don’t you think?”

“It’s the truth,” he said. “You shouldn’t take this lightly.”

“All right. I guess I appreciate your help, then.”

He nodded, and we continued down the road. A few people passed and blew their horns, waving as they went by. Friends, or friends of friends, all citizens of Duck. I’d never felt uneasy here until Miss Elizabeth’s murder. It struck me that Duck was changing with the increase in tourists and the march of time. The town had changed many times before. Why had I thought it would always remain the way I wanted it to be?

Much to my surprise, the park was packed when we arrived. Normally, only ten or fifteen people come out to do tai chi. I’m not the instructor, Andy Martin is, but I show up a couple times a month to boost morale. A few town council members do the same thing. It’s like making an appearance at the VFW dance or the community auction.

But this was
much
more. There were at least three TV station vans and twenty extra cars. Our small parking lot was almost full. “I think there might be some extra people doing tai chi this morning.”

“Do they usually televise Duck residents doing tai chi?” Kevin asked.

“Not usually.” I glanced at him. “I guess this is where the fat hits the fire, as Gramps always says.”

“Just remember to be vague about what you know. Let them word it.”

“I’m the mayor. They taught us that in mayor school.”

“You went to school to be a mayor?” Kevin raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Sure.” I fastened on my big smile and pointed to my face. “Always smile. They taught me that too. Here goes.”

Jerry Richards led the pack of reporters coming my way. I felt like I was in one of those battles you see on TV where the good guys are hopelessly outnumbered. There we were, rushing at each other across the park. Their weapons were microphones and cameras. Mine seemed to be my big mayoral smile and, hopefully, sparkling wit.

We confronted each other, the reporters surrounding me as we met. I was amazed that Jerry had the nerve to confront me so openly. He had to be very sure that I wouldn’t out him on the sale of the properties. I had to bite my tongue not to say what I wanted.

“Mayor O’Donnell,” he addressed me first, “what’s the big secret regarding the death of Elizabeth Simpson?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. I’ll have a statement ready for you when I am.” I tried glaring at him, hoping he’d back off. No such luck.

“Isn’t it true that you’ve been working with the police to try and clear Mildred Mason of the charges against her?”

It had to be a
slow
news day. There were reporters here from Virginia Beach and Raleigh. Surely they had a news story more interesting than me to report on. I was glad Kevin had been enclosed in the circle of reporters too. I wasn’t nervous exactly, although I wasn’t used to this much attention. I could see the people standing in the park waiting to do tai chi. Andy Martin had a disapproving frown on his face. Apparently he didn’t like reporters interrupting his class.

“I can’t comment on that at this time.” I smiled and waved to Andy to let him know I was on my way.

Suddenly Jerry lunged closer to me. I jumped back in reflex, not liking the feral gleam in his eyes. “Maybe you’d like to tell me what kind of mumbo jumbo you were doing with my great aunt yesterday,” he muttered so the other reporters couldn’t hear what he was saying.

I didn’t plan to answer that. I wanted to set him back by accusing him of trying to steal Miss Mildred’s house. But before I could form the words, Jerry was pushed up and away from me. In an instant, Kevin had him down on the ground, holding Jerry’s arms behind his back while the cameraman filmed the whole thing. It was like a scene out of TV movie in which the FBI agent finally apprehends the bad guy.

I tried nonverbally to remind him that he wasn’t an FBI agent anymore and that Jerry wasn’t a perp, but that wasn’t working so I yelled,
“Kevin!”

“I hope you’re getting this,” Jerry yelled to his cameraman. “I’m going to sue for assault. You can’t manhandle the press.”

“I’m the mayor’s bodyguard,” Kevin growled. “I can do whatever is necessary to assure her safety. You look like a threat to me.”

I could see this wasn’t going to end well. Kevin was trying to help but possibly overdoing it, although I’m not sure why Jerry invaded my personal space. That had never happened before. I took a step toward them with the overeager eyes of the rest of the press following me. “Kevin, let him go. Jerry, don’t threaten me. Not unless you want everyone here to know about you selling Miss Mildred’s house out from under her. It makes you a good murder suspect, don’t you think?”

Kevin let him go with a reluctance I could feel. Jerry straightened his blue suit and picked up his microphone, though he held it at his side. “I have an alibi for the Simpson murder,” he hissed.

“So who’d you hire to do it?” Kevin demanded in a low whisper.

That made Jerry back off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not,” I said sarcastically. “But I’m wondering who you had ransack Miss Mildred’s house. Because I think you’re responsible for
that
too.”