A Spirited Gift (17 page)

“My mom still believes we'll end up together,” he said.

I waved as I walked briskly away. There was no use talking to him when he got this way—usually between girlfriends. I was always “the one” when he wasn't dating someone else. It was kind of depressing.

So was thinking about Sandi being shot behind the Blue Whale while the rest of us cowered inside, afraid of the storm. I wished I could say I was surprised by the news, but I'd felt it in my bones before Kevin confirmed it.

The killer must have forced her outside—maybe Matthew, maybe someone else. It was probably to use the storm to shield the sound of the pistol. He or she lucked out with the shed collapsing on Sandi and conveniently covering up the crime.

I wished for the millionth time that my visions were more precise. It would've been more helpful to have seen the killer's face than to have seen the gun. Surely Sandi had enemies—everyone in political office did. But there was a big difference between Martha Segall writing down my faults as mayor in her little book and someone dragging Sandi outside the Blue Whale and shooting her.

It seemed so obvious that Matthew Wright was guilty of shooting Sandi. He was there with her—they were lovers who were quarreling over their relationship. He had motive, means (possibly) and opportunity.

But I knew the obvious answer wasn't always the right answer. How many times had I seen Gramps convinced that he knew what was going on in a case only to find out he had to go in another direction. Chief Michaels would have to prove Matthew had a .22-caliber pistol and find some way to put him in back of the Blue Whale with her when she died. That probably wasn't going to be easy.

Halfway home, I decided to turn around and go back to take a look at the collapsed shed and the area around it again. It might not officially be a crime scene yet—they'd just received the medical examiner's report.

If the police had already roped it off, I'd cross that stream when I got there. Everything I'd heard so far had been secondhand reports. How was I supposed to know that I shouldn't go back there? That was my story and I was sticking to it.

But there might be something left behind that I could pick up on and give the chief a hand. Not that he'd be happy about it, but I knew he'd take any help he could get. The shed had been such a mess, and finding Sandi dead out there had been a shock. I was bound to have overlooked some potential clues.

I wasn't born a crime solver. Somehow it had happened to me, kind of like being the mayor. One day, Gramps said I should run. I hadn't planned for it. I had to learn on the fly—just as I was learning to do more than find lost jewelry.

I saw Town Councilman Mad Dog Wilson on the road coming toward me from the Blue Whale. No doubt he'd been looking over the crime scene. I almost turned back, but he waved and I knew he'd seen me. Too late to escape.

I knew he was going to be trouble. He was looking for any ammunition to use against me in the upcoming election. Sandi's murder, tragic though it was, wouldn't be off the table for him. We'd never exactly been friends—he was much older than me. But lately we'd become adversaries.

“Mayor.” He nodded and paused, leaning heavily on his oak walking stick.

Gramps said Randall “Mad Dog” Wilson was a fearless stock car driver in his youth—until a terrible wreck had almost killed him. Hence the nickname—Mad Dog—and the cane.

“Councilman.”

“This is some bad business,” he said. “Bad news for Duck.”

“Yes it is.” I could have pretended that he was talking about the storm, but what was the point? Better to get it over with. “I hope we can clear it up quickly and put it behind us.”

“I hope so too. You know, I don't have any choice but to point out how much civil unrest there has been during your term as mayor when I write my blog this week. The people expect the truth.”

I groaned inwardly but kept my cheerful mayor's smile on my face. Mad Dog's blog—
Duck Notes
—had become infamous since he announced his decision to run for mayor. He sent email alerts to everyone in town—and a few media people too—whenever he posted an update. Mostly the media ignored him, but I had heard people in town talking about the blog.

“You have to do what you think is right,” I told him. “But I'm wondering how much it will hurt the town to publicize the murder. This could stay quiet, Councilman, at least for now. I know you want to use this tragedy in the campaign, but it could end up hurting you too.”

He smiled in a sad, avuncular way. “Dae, it has never been my intention to hurt you in any way by the things I've said and done. I've known you since you were a baby. You've grown into a wonderful, caring young woman. I'm proud that you were the first mayor of Duck. I just think we need some new blood in the position—a firmer, perhaps masculine, hand on the reins.”

This was Mad Dog at his worst—pretending we were friends, almost relations. All the time he was talking, I knew he didn't mean a word of it. He'd spoken out several times after my election, once demanding that the town take another vote. The problem was that no one had run against me, not even him. He was busy running for town council at the time.

“I appreciate that,” I said, playing the game. “But please consider that your words could cause more headaches than they'd be worth to you. I know we both want what's best for Duck. Nice talking with you.”

“Going to see your boyfriend?” He baited me even as I walked away from him. “Mr. Brickman could be a liability to your campaign, you know. There are many people here in Duck who might not like the idea of their mayor prancing around town with her boyfriend.”

I ignored him. I knew from the past that we could argue all day and never reach any kind of agreement. There was no point in wasting my time with him. He was going to do whatever he wanted anyway.

I started around the side of the Blue Whale, careful to be observant as I went. I was looking for anything out of the ordinary—something that not even the most experienced police officer would think was a clue—something that would call only to me.

Of course there were countless footprints and the track from the stretcher they'd used to take Sandi away. Kevin was right about the scene being compromised. I still wanted to give it another look.

Shawn Foxx apparently had the same idea. He looked up as I walked closer. “Is this where she died?”

“Yes. Maybe. I'm not really sure.”

“But this is where you found her?”

“Yes.” I could answer that at least. I felt terrible for him, but I didn't know what to say that might give him closure. “I'm sorry I don't know more.”

He stood up and looked out at the sea. “I always knew something like this would happen to her. I begged her not to keep meeting those other men on the side. What did she think would happen?”

“I don't know. Would you like to go inside and sit down?”

“No.” He glared at me and clenched his fists. “How could she do this to me and the girls? Why didn't she ever think about them?”

I certainly didn't have an answer to that question. I'd asked it many times myself. I didn't understand the attraction of infidelity, but I never thought Sandi would end up dead because of it. “The police will find out who did this, Shawn. You just need to take care of yourself and the girls.”

“You know what, Dae? It doesn't matter. I don't even care anymore.”

I watched him stride around the side of the inn.

Rafe appeared—who could stop him? He was furious about the things Mad Dog had said to me. “I can't believe ye let that scurvy dog speak to you in that tone—and you the Lord High Mayor of this town!”

I couldn't complain. He'd kept to the rules about leaving me alone when I was with other people. “That doesn't mean all that much anymore,” I told him. “I guess it meant something in your day?”

“A man like that would be clapped in irons,” he replied. “Depending on the mercy of the mayor, he could find himself flogged too.”

I smiled, concentrating on the area around the shed. “We don't do much flogging nowadays.”

“More's the pity from what I've seen!”

“You were in the shop when Kevin told me about Sandi being murdered.”

“Aye. That doesn't break our treaty, girl. You said not to speak to you—I did not speak.”

“I think I said not to hang around,” I corrected.

“A pleasant thing to say to a man whose corpse still bears marks from the hangman's noose!”

I refused to feel guilty for the gaffe. “How did you know that Sandi was murdered? I mean before Kevin told us. Is that a ghost thing?”

“I don't know what ye mean by ‘a ghost thing,'” he said. “Unless you're speaking of common deduction. I heard all the same things you heard. It was simple to conclude she met up with foul play. Did you really think she was just standing out here and let the storm kill her?”

“Not everything is that cut and dry,” I explained, feeling kind of stupid. I reasoned that he probably had more experience with murder than I did. And I wanted to believe that she'd died accidentally.

“If you say so. What are you looking for out here?”

“A clue—something that will help tell us who killed Sandi.”

“Such as what?”

“I don't know. I'll know it when I see it.”

I tried to concentrate, but instead, I looked at Rafe. He stood beside me with his fists on his wide hips—large, booted feet never touching the wet ground. He had a perpetual scowl. Deep frown lines ran between his eyes in his darkly tanned skin. His lips pulled down at the corners—they would forever. Various scars across his cheek, near his eye, and a long one near his ear, gave the impression that he was not a friendly man. Curiously, there was no sign of the noose, as he'd said.

“What happened when you were caught and hanged?” I asked, trying to cut to the heart of his problem. I didn't need a ghost in my life any longer than necessary.

“Caught?” He laughed in an egotistical manner. “I was never
caught
, girl. I gave up the pirate life for a comely young lass who proceeded to bear babes every time we scratched that itch. I made some deals, tried to become an honest merchant. But the magistrate kept at my heels like a rabid spaniel. He wouldn't rest until he had me in the noose. Finally he made up a crime and convicted me of it. The result of which ye see before you—a murdered man.”

I didn't mention that he'd lived more than three hundred years ago and would have been dead by now, no matter what. “How do you think I can clear your name at this late date?”

“The magistrate kept a journal. I have it on good account that he wrote all of his crimes in it. If we were to find it, my name would be cleared.”

“Can you ask him where it is?” I wasn't sure where to look for something like that. I'd never heard of a magistrate in this area. “He must be dead too.”

“No doubt. But we aren't all out here bobbing around like sailors after a wreck. I found you because you called. Yer friend was right—blood is the only thing that can call a spirit. You'll have to find an ancestor of the magistrate and ask about his journal.”

“That sounds easy,” I muttered, looking carefully through the pieces of wood hastily thrown aside as we'd tried to pull Sandi from the wreckage. “You should be out of my life in about ten years.”

Chapter 20

I moved everything—even ripped my hand open on a nail. I crawled along the ground. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

I sat on the wet ground for a while, looking out at the now placid gray ocean. I let my mind wander along those gentle waves, but no brilliant revelations came to me. In a way, it was too bad that I couldn't communicate with Sandi's ghost. She could tell me what had happened. That would be easy.

My ghost told me stories about plundering rich merchant ships, drinking and spending time with prostitutes. Hardly conducive to helping with my search for a clue.

The wind was still running wild along the island. Nancy was right. The storm seemed to have brought in the cooler fall temperatures. I shivered, wet and dirty, deciding to go home. There was nothing else I could do here.

Rafe went with me like a friendly puppy—a puppy wearing pistols and a saber—still talking about his pirate exploits. He might have settled down at the end of his life, but it was obvious which life he preferred.

I kept hoping I'd run into someone coming out of the Blue Whale or walking up the street. No such luck. I didn't want to violate our agreement—especially since I was going home to shower and change clothes. I wanted him gone for those events. I could imagine him comparing me to his pirate girlfriends. I didn't think it would matter that we were related.