Sandrift: A Lin Hanna Mystery (35 page)

***

The main office
of the Dare County Bank was located a couple of blocks in from the waterfront
on the main road through town.
 
The
manager was a rotund little man who seemed quite disturbed by having to produce
bank records for one of his best clients.

“I really don’t
see why you need these, Sheriff,” he fussed, “our clients depend upon our
confidentiality, they have to feel that we won’t disclose their business…”

“Then they’d
best keep their business on the up and up,” Midgett slapped the warrant down on
the banker’s desk, “Now go get that safe deposit box and have someone get
started collecting those financial records.
 
I’ll want copies of all of them, the
entire account history, on my desk by noon tomorrow.” The Sheriff had clearly
lost his ‘good old boy’ demeanor.

The banker went
to his office door and requested that an employee bring the safe deposit box
into his office. “And be sure you make a record that the contents are being
examined under a warrant from the district court judge,” he added.

The large-sized
box was soon produced.
 
The banker
placed it on his desk and carefully opened it, extracting the contents piece by
piece and placing them across the desktop.
 
There were the usual important papers, marriage certificate, wills, and
deeds for property.
 
Next came a
number of stock certificates and bonds.
 
Finally, the box was empty except for a second box.
 
This one was made of wood but it was
also locked and there was no key.

“Open it,” the
Sheriff picked up a letter opener and handed it to the banker. “That lock
shouldn’t be too difficult to break.”

The letter
opener slid easily into the seam formed by the box lid.
 
The banker seemed to struggle as he
tried to pry the lock open.
 
“Let
me,” Pete Midgett said, “He applied greater force, using the letter opener as a
lever and the box was soon opened.
 
The lid had split, but the contents were accessible.
 

The box
contained an assortment of small velvet cases and bags, the kind used to store
jewelry.
 
One by one, Pete Midgett
opened these, placing the contents carefully on the desk.
 
What emerged was an impressive array of
what appeared to be quite fine jewelry.
 
There were rings, earrings, necklaces—all studded with exquisite
stones, but there was no sign of Lin’s ring.
 
At the bottom of the box was one more
jewelry bag.
 
It contained a lovely
set of diamond jewelry, a pendant, earrings, and a ring.
 
They were obviously special
pieces—in fact all of the pieces that had been retrieved appeared to be
quite valuable. The display took Neal’s breath away.

Sheriff Midgett
had a more business-like approach.
 
After it was determined that Lin’s ring was not to be found here, he
questioned the banker, “ What do you know about this stuff?
 
Do you have a value for it?
 
Were you even aware it was here? This
man deals in estate jewelry, why aren’t these pieces in his shop, for sale?”

The banker was
hesitant but it was clear that the Sheriff was going to get his information
sooner or later.
 
He, once again,
went to the door and requested that his secretary bring him a file.
 
He placed it on the desk beside the
glittering display and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “Here is a list of
all the jewelry along with the appraised value of the collection.”

“ Why do you
have that?” Midgett probed, “I’d think it would’ve been in the box, or at his
office?”

“He probably
does have a copy at his office, somewhere, or at his home, perhaps.
 
I have it because this collection
represents collateral for business loans made to the Simon Gallery over the
years.
 
Mark began to expand his
business about ten years ago and required funds to do so.
 
He offered some of his best pieces as
collateral.
 
Over the years, he’s
repaid that first loan and several others.
 
He has added to this collection and continues to use it as collateral
when he needs to borrow.
 
It’s kept here
to ensure that the loans are adequately backed.
 
None of these items has ever been sold
although, at present, he could sell, as he is free of debt.
 
They are more valuable to him as a
business asset than they would be sold.
 
This way he can continue to access their value over and over again.”

Neal felt he
had to speak up, “Are you sure none of these pieces is stolen?”

The banker’s
face turned red and he cast angry eyes toward Neal and the Sheriff. “I’m not
sure what kind of trouble Mark Simon may be in at the moment, but his dealings
with me have always been at the highest level.
 
He is a successful businessman, but he
is also honest in all his dealings.
 
These pieces are all from valuable estates; that is the primary basis of
business for the Simon Gallery.
 
Now
gentleman, if you have no further business here, I need to get started on those
financial records.”

“We’re done,
but I’ll require a lock box on loan,” the Sheriff said, “I’m impounding the
contents of this box as evidence to prevent it from being moved
elsewhere.”
 
The banker looked
aghast but he did as he was told.

When they’d
returned to the parking, lot Neal paused to ask a question, “Did you notice
that last set, the diamond jewelry in the bag? I think that might fit the
description of the jewelry Liz Frazier claimed she found ten years ago.”

Pete Midgett
carefully locked the box in a secure case in his car and scratched his chin, “You
might be right; you know none of us law enforcement folks ever saw that
jewelry.
 
We’ve no record or
description of it.”

“Billy Thornton
saw it, or at least he claimed he did, and he’s sitting in jail right now.
 
Tom Miller had an old newspaper article
that identified the owners of a yacht that could’ve been the wreck where Liz
claimed to find it.
 
I think he gave
it to Lin.
 
I’m not sure if she kept
it or gave it to Liz’s mother.
 
It’s
a long shot, but if you could find any family members, they might know
something about it also,” Neal explained. “You do realize that jewelry might be
the only real clue as to who killed Liz…”

“It just might
be,” Pete Midgett finally smiled.

“Sorry your
ring wasn’t there,” the Sheriff continued,
 
“I guess Simon has it with him.
 
Maybe he’s going to use it to finance his get away, or thinks he
is.
 
I’ve got to make sure that
doesn’t happen.
 
Well, thanks for
coming.
 
You’ve been a big help,
even if we didn’t find your missing jewelry.
 
I’d best get going.
 
We’ll talk again soon.”

Neal had just
left the bank’s parking lot when his phone rang.
 
He didn’t recognize the number, but he
answered.
 
A suave male voice spoke,
“Dr. Smith, You may not recall me, but we did some business a few weeks
ago.
 
I believe you’ve lost a very
valuable diamond ring.
 
Perhaps we
can discuss how it can be returned to you.”

Neal
momentarily found that he couldn’t speak.
 
His heart began to race, and he felt a strange chill throughout his
body.
 
For what seemed like a long
time, but was probably only a few seconds, he was silent.
 
“Dr. Smith are you there? Are you quite
all right?” the voice continued.
 
Neal directed the car into the parking lot of a convenience store and
cut the engine.

“Sorry, I was
driving and wanted to pull off the road, Mr. Simon I presume?” he was surprised
at how calm he sounded.
 
He
certainly didn’t feel that way.

“Yes, Mark Simon,
and I need to talk to you right away.
 
Like I said, I can arrange for your ring to be returned to you, but
first we need to talk.
 
There are
certain details to work out.”

Neal realized
that this was dangerous territory.
 
He did want the ring back for Lin, but he also wanted, more than
anything, for Mark Simon to be found, arrested, and out of their lives.
 

His caller
continued, “Listen carefully.
 
For
obvious reasons I cannot meet you in Manteo, and our transaction, if we are
able to work together, must be kept private.
 
Are you familiar with the Whalehead Club
in Corolla?”

Neal had never
been there, but he knew of its location in the Currituck Heritage Park. The
park contained several historic buildings, including the red brick Corolla
Lighthouse.
 
Lin had told him about
this place, suggesting that they might take the family there when they came to
visit.

“I’m not
familiar with it, but I think I know where it is located?” he responded.
 
Simon described carefully how he could
find the place.
 
“I’ll meet you just
inside the main entrance to the club in exactly one hour.
 
It’s a long drive from Manteo, where I
presume you are now, so don’t waste any time.
 
Come alone, and don’t tell anyone where
you are going.” The connection was broken.

How did he know
where I am? Neal wondered.
 
He
realized that Simon would’ve had his number from the record of his purchase,
but he should’ve thought he was in Kill Devil Hills.
 
Then it struck him, the banker.
 
He must’ve been in touch with Simon.
 
He probably knew where he was all along.

Neal pulled
back onto the highway and headed toward the beach but not before dialing Pete
Midgett’s number.
 
Unfortunately, he
reached the desk officer who told him that the Sheriff hadn’t yet returned to
his office.
 
“When you see him, tell
him to contact Neal Smith right away.
 
Tell him I’m heading for the Whalehead Club and he needs to get out
there.”
 
Simon had said to come
alone and not tell anyone, but Neal wasn’t that crazy.
 
He didn’t call Lin; he was afraid she’d
try to follow him.
 
He just hoped
Midgett got the message in time.
 
The Whalehead Club was in the next county, but there had to be some sort
of rules that would allow Midgett to go after a fugitive, or maybe, he would
call someone else—if he got word in time.

It felt to Neal
as if the drive to the club was taking forever; he felt nervous each time he
was caught by a traffic light on Hwy. 158.
 
Finally, he reached the junction at Southern Shores and headed north
through the village of Duck toward Corolla.
 
It was quite evident that this was the
most affluent part of the Outer Banks.
 
The homes here, many of which were for summer use only, were large.
 
They had names reflective of their
“cottage” status—Summer Breeze, Mom’s Retreat,
High
Tide Times—but they were actually more like summer mansions.

Neal turned
into the drive at the Whalehead Club right on
time
.
 
He could see the historic buildings of
old Corolla and the beautiful brick lighthouse to his right.
 
Ahead was the club, a magnificent 1920’s
Art Nouveau building with broad porches and a wide, green lawn that stretched
to the sound.
 
Originally built as a
hunting lodge for a wealthy Rhode Island couple, the mansion had been used as a
Coast Guard barracks during World War II, and later, as a rocket fuel test
site.
 
It had even had a brief
tenure as a summer boarding school for boys.
 
Much of the original land had eventually
been sold to developers, but about twenty years before Currituck County had
purchased the property to preserve it for public enjoyment.
 
It was now part of a heritage park that
preserved not only the mansion but also the lighthouse and several historic
buildings.
 
The house had been
restored, and there were guided tours during the heavy tourist season.
 
It was also a popular location for weddings
and other events.
 
Today though, a
Monday afternoon in December, the place seemed to be deserted.
 
There were only a couple of cars in the
parking lot as Neal pulled in.

He sat in the
car for a moment gathering his wits before proceeding.
 
Mark Simon was a dangerous man, and Neal
knew he had to remain calm and cautious during this meeting.
 
His plan was to try to keep Simon
engaged in conversation until the police could arrive.
 
He couldn’t allow a case of the jitters
to betray the fact that he had, indeed, called someone before he drove out.

Neal took
several deep breaths and then got out of the car.
 
He tried to walk casually toward the
main entrance of the mansion, certain that he was being observed.
 
As he stepped inside, he spotted Simon nearby.
 
His demeanor was that of the master of
this house. Simon seemed calm, and the smile on his face was almost too big.

“Well, we meet
again, I’m so happy that we can do business together once more, ” Simon’s voice
was like honey, almost sickeningly sweet.

Neal surprised
himself at how calm he suddenly felt, “Indeed, Mr. Simon I’m more than happy to
reclaim my property.”

Simon’s look
suddenly changed, and his eyes took on an icy stare, but he remained calm, “By
all means.
 
That is the outcome we
both desire.
 
However, there are a few
particulars we must discuss first.
 
Shall we take a walk around these beautiful grounds?
 
There are few visitors in the mansion
today, but we might have more privacy outside.”
 
He indicated that Neal should follow him
to an exit on the east side of the building.
 

As they
approached the exit, Neal realized that Simon had placed his hand in the pocket
of his coat.
 
He reached across to
open the door, and in so doing, pressed his side against Neal.
 
The blunt end of what had to be a heavy
pistol pressed into Neal’s back.
 
Simon
was armed, and he was making sure Neal realized that his own position was quite
vulnerable.

Still seeking
to communicate calm, Neal turned and smiled at the man. “Do you feel it
necessary that we conduct our business under these conditions?” He hoped his
voice sounded calmer than he felt.

Simon broke
into a lurid grin, “Insurance,” he replied.
 
“I’m a firm believer in protecting my
interests at all times.
 
Don’t
worry.
 
As long as you cooperate I
won’t have to use this.”

They began a
stroll along the paths that led across the grounds toward the sound on one side
and the historical area on the other.
 
Simon paused and took Neal by the elbow.

“It is very
important to me that you know and understand the story I have to tell you.
Listen first, then I’ll try to answer your questions.”
 
Simon’s voice was reasonable, but his
look was distant and fixed.
 
There
was almost an irrational aspect to his demeanor.
 
Neal found this far more frightening
that his words, or even the fact that he had a weapon.
 
He was beginning to suspect that Simon
had taken leave of his senses completely.

They came to a
bench, and seeing no one else around, Simon indicated that they should be
seated.
 
He kept his hand in the
pocket, however, firmly gripping the gun.

“I know you are
here because you want to get your ring back,” Simon began, “but first I want
you to understand fully my position.
 
I pride myself on being an honest businessman.
 
I have never failed to meet my
obligations to my customers or to my backers.
 
I feel sure that my friend at Dare
County Bank told you that I was debt free, and I have always used my finest
estate jewelry as collateral for my business expansion.
 
No one can say that I’ve ever cheated in
a sale,” his expression was full of pride.

Neal couldn’t
believe what he was hearing.
 
This
killer was touting his integrity as a businessman! “Perhaps so,” Neal couldn’t
resist saying, “but where does kidnapping my fiancé enter the picture
here?
 
You won’t cheat a customer,
but kidnapping and murder don’t count in your picture of integrity! Besides,
that ring you speak of was bought and paid for.
 
Your having it in your possession now
might easily be viewed as theft.”

A strange look
of shock and surprise crept over Simon’s face; his lips curled back in an
almost vicious snarl.
 
He ripped the
pistol from his pocket and jammed it against Neal’s neck, glancing around to be
certain they were still alone.

“I see that you
don’t really understand anything,” Simon spit out his words. “That bitch you
claim as your fiancé brought all of this down on herself and on me and my
wife.
 
She’s too damn nosy for her
own good.
 
If she’d learned to mind
her own business none of this would’ve happened.
 
It’s entirely her
fault
,
you’d see that if you understood the situation.
 
Shut up and listen to me!”

Neal didn’t
respond.
 
It was clear that he was
dealing with a crazy man here.
 
For
the first time, he really began to fear for his own life.

“Now, as I was
saying,” Simon moved the gun away from Neal’s neck and concealed it once more
in his pocket, making sure that it was still pressed firmly against Neal’s
side. “The important thing for you to understand is that I value my integrity
as a businessman above all, and I’ve also tried to do my duty by my wife.
 
She’s not well, you know, hasn’t been
for many years.
 
She couldn’t be a
real wife to me.
 
I accepted
that.
 
Some might say that I was unfaithful
to her; like all men, I have certain needs, and she wasn’t able to fulfill them.
I sought my pleasures elsewhere from time to time,” he turned to face Neal with
an icy stare, “ but I always took responsibility for Millicent.
 
I would never let anything bad happen to
her.”

Neal couldn’t
stop himself from probing further, “Even if she hurt someone else?”
 
Simon jerked his head back with
surprise. “If you mean that nosy Johnson girl, she only got what she deserved
also.
 
Coming to my home, making
unwarranted accusations.
 
Millicent
thought she was someone I…” he stammered, “someone I turned to for necessary
comforts; she was unwell that day.
 
I left the room to take a business call. Apparently, Millicent offered
her some tea.
 
I never knew what
happened, but when I returned, she was unconscious.
 
Milli said she’d been stung; I’m sure it
was an accident.
 
Poor girl, she was
dead before I knew what was happening.”
 
He stared off into space.

“Of course, I
had to fix that.
 
I had to help
Millicent, she’s not responsible for what she does, you see.
 
I have to look after her.”

Neal decided to
push his luck a bit further, “What about the Frazier girls, Connie and Liz…”

At the mention
of these names, Simon’s eyes grew wild; he whipped out the gun again, this time
pressing it into Neal’s throat. “You really don’t understand, do you?
 
I never touched Connie Frazier, but she
was a troublemaker.
 
Someone had to
stop her before she meddled any further.
 
A friend of mine saw to that.
 
She was a nosy bitch, just like your friend.
 
If people minded their own business none
of this would’ve happened.
 
It’s
their own fault.”