Catherine's Cross (7 page)

As they continued the drive, the lane became even darker with the shade of live oaks and thickets of bamboo that lined the roadway.

“This is beautiful back here.” Just as she said those words, they came to a brick entranceway with wrought-iron gates. As the police car neared the gate, Seth picked up an electronic opener and pressed a button. The gate swung open. “This is the Walker's property,” he commented.

A magnificent three-story home appeared in the distance, and reflections of light and water danced on the side of the structure. Jenks could see a waterway in front of the home, and she exclaimed, “Wow—this is fantastic. I didn't know college professors earned this kind of money.”

“The wealth in the family comes from Mrs. Walker. She inherited three working sugar farms on Trinidad as well as the proceeds from family investments on Tobago. Her ancestors emigrated from Martinique during the French Revolution and became successful planters.”

“I'm speechless,” Jenks said.

“Wait until you see the inside.”

He led her through a ground-level entrance into a large room that housed weights, exercise machines, and a boxer's punching bag.

“Is this equipment all yours?”

“No—only the punching bag is mine; the rest belongs to Dr. Walker and his wife.”

In the corner of the exercise room was an elevator, and Seth said, “You get the full treatment today. After this you'll have to walk up the stairs.”

He smiled and led her inside the lift. When they stopped on the second story, the door opened and she had to blink at the brightness of the room. He led her into a spacious living room with picture windows that faced an expansive marsh. A grand piano was situated in the middle of the room, and Seth opened a sliding glass door that led to a large covered porch.

“This is fantastic!” she exclaimed.

Deep-green cord grass, pluff mud, and the dark waters of the marsh stretched as far as the eye could see. The marshland was quiet. The only noise she could hear was the wind in the cord grass and the call of a hawk that was flying near an island in the waterway. The scent of pluff mud and the salt marsh brought back fond memories of crabbing with her father on Fripp Island when she was a child.

Seth handed her a pair of binoculars. “I enjoy looking at the wildlife on the marsh. I thought you might like to study the surroundings while I clean the fish. It won't take me very long.”

“Yes, I'd love to.”

“Oops, almost forgot. Would you like a glass of white wine?”

She put the binoculars down and smiled at him. “That would be nice.”

He went into the house and after a few minutes returned with a glass of wine. The sides of the glass were frosty from the cold liquid.

She took one sip. “Mmm—this is delicious. What's the name of it?”

“Montecillo Verdemar Albarino. I hope I said that right.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

“This wine is one of Mrs. Walker's favorites, so I knew what to buy. I thought we'd have blackened redfish for supper. You can help me with the corn on the cob and red potatoes.”

“Just let me know when you want me to come in.”

The afternoon was cool for May, and Jenks stood in the afternoon sun for warmth. She thought about her sister and how much she missed her. Tears began to well in her eyes, but she wiped them with her fingers and put the binoculars back up to her eyes. In the marsh, near an island with a rookery of egrets, three dolphins were swimming. Their dorsal fins cut the surface of the water, making a significant ripple. After a few moments, they disappeared into the dark waters of the Chechessee River.

The sound of an airplane engine sounded across the marsh, and Jenks saw a red biplane coming toward the house. The airplane was flying low over the waterway, and as it neared the Walker's property, the pilot rocked the wings before beginning a climb.

“Seth, come look at this biplane.” Jenks went to the doorway and called him enthusiastically.

When Seth emerged from the house he was wearing a white apron. He looked at the airplane, which was commencing another flyby. “Hale Branson,” he said as he watched the aircraft.

“You know him?”

“Yes, he's a friend. He's a retired Air Force pilot, and he does some volunteer work with the sheriff's department.”

“What kind of airplane is that?”

“I believe that's a Pitts Special.”

“Wow, he flies well!”

“He sure does. He has several airplanes, mostly for aerobatics, that he keeps at Frogmore International.”

“Frogmore International?”

“Yes, that's the old nickname for the Beaufort County Airport. It was named after a plantation on St. Helena named Frogmore. At the outbreak of the Civil War, that plantation as well as Coffin Point were owned by Thomas Coffin.”

“Coffin Point? I found a reference to Coffin Point in Gigi's possessions.”

The Pitts Special flew by the house one more time. Seth waved at his friend, and then the airplane began a climb and departed the area.

“Why don't you tell me about what you found when we go inside,” Seth said. He motioned for her to enter the house. “After you,” he said with a smile.

When they went into the home, piano jazz was playing on the stereo. Seth led her to the kitchen. The room was mostly white, with stainless-steel appliances, all of them commercial grade. An island topped by a thick piece of oak was located close to an elaborate gas stove. “I think this is the prettiest kitchen I've ever seen,” Jenks said as she ran her hand across the top of the island. Seth smiled at her observation.

The corn and potatoes were on the counter, and she shucked the corn and then washed the ears and the potatoes. “While I was looking at Gigi's bottle collection, I lifted one of the bottles, and underneath it was the name of a lady, Meta Jane Andrews, and the street on which she lives, Coffin Point.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Meta—she is known in the Beaufort area as a spiritual advisor. She is purported to be capable of communicating with the dead, and there are a lot of folks who take her seriously.”

“I went to see her and her sister, Ida Mae.”

He pushed the cast-iron skillet to the rear of the stove and turned to face Jenks. “You did what?”

“I went to see them.” She looked Seth in the eye. “I nearly frightened Ida Mae to death. She thought I was Gigi.”

“I can understand why she would think that,” he said with a smile.

“I asked Meta why Gigi would have had her name tucked away underneath one of her antique bottles. She said that Gigi came to see her several months ago about some journals that an ancestor of hers had kept during the Civil War. Miss Meta said that she asked her about a gold cross that was rumored to be on board a ship that went down near St. Helena Sound.” She paused and looked closely at him. “Can I tell you something strange, and you won't think I'm crazy?” He looked at her seriously. “After Gigi died I started to have dreams about her and in the dream sequences was a gold cross. It has red stones in it.”

“I don't think of you as being unstable. Jenks, Dr. Walker's specialty is the history of the Italian Renaissance period. However, the semester that I was in his class, he taught a course on Low Country history that explored myths and legends. It was one of my favorite classes. One of the legends that he addressed was a gold cross that was stolen during the Civil War from a Miss Iris Elliott. Her family was one of the wealthiest in the Beaufort area prior to the Civil War. Her father purportedly purchased the cross while on a tour of Europe in the late 1850s. It was supposed to be from the jewelry collection of Catherine the Great.”

“They must have been very wealthy.”

“Dr. Walker said that the cross and other family heirlooms of the Elliott family were stolen in 1862 and were never recovered. He also said that local lore placed the Elliott family possessions on a ship that sank off the coast of South Carolina—on its way to a northern destination.”

“I asked Miss Meta if Gigi had told her she had found the cross, and she said that she had not mentioned locating it.” Jenks pulled silk off of an ear of corn. “Seth—do you think she might have found the Elliott treasures?”

“Impossible to say.”

“I have an appointment at Miss Meta's home tomorrow to review the journals of their ancestor. I'll call you when I've finished reading them.”

Seth opened a Budweiser, took a sip, and said, “All right . . . the water's boiling. Eight minutes on the corn.”

The scent of blackening seasoning was heavy in the kitchen, and he opened the windows and doors to the outside to allow fresh air inside. Seth placed the filets of redfish on their plates and they began to eat.

“This is delicious. How did you learn to cook like this?”

“Trial and error—mostly error.” He smiled at her and said, “Tomorrow, there will be a newspaper article in the
Hilton Head Island Packet
about the Beaufort minister, Lucius Gregg, who was robbed at gunpoint yesterday. I admire his courage.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Yes, I think you heard that he was in the churchyard practicing a sermon for Sunday when the assailant jumped from behind a grave marker. He strong-armed the minister and put a gun to his head, demanding money and his automobile. They had to go inside the church office to get his car keys. His wallet was in his car.”

“That's very frightening.”

“Once they got inside, the gunman removed the minister's belt and tied his hands with it. He then asked the minister to give him three reasons why he should not kill him.” Seth looked into Jenks's eyes and continued, “The minister told him that he had a wife and children that he loved deeply . . . that he was in Beaufort to do the Lord's work, and that if he murdered him, he'd have to answer to God. The gunman asked him if he was sure about that.”

“That's awful.”

“The assailant broke a lamp and tied the clergyman's legs with the cord. Minister Gregg said that he heard the gun click and thought he was about to die. Instead, the gunman left the church, leaving the doors propped open. After he left, the pastor was able to free himself and call 911. A couple of police cars were nearby, and they were at the church within moments. The gunman was sitting inside the pastor's car, and when he saw police approach, he took off across the churchyard, hurdling markers like an Olympian.”

“The minister was very brave,” Jenks said.

“He said that he was frightened but at the same time felt an inner strength that he knew had come from faith. Pastor Gregg was recording his sermon on a voice recorder and the assailant took it with him. He hopes that the gunman will listen to the sermon, which was on salvation and peace, and that his thoughts will help this man.”

“He has faith in the Lord to help this man.”

“Jenks—you can only help some people just so much.”

They were silent for a moment before Jenks asked, “Do you have an apartment?”

“No—I was renting a furnished apartment in Beaufort when the Walkers asked me to house-sit for them. I didn't renew the lease, and I brought my one possession that I have regular therapy sessions with.”

“What's that?”

“My punching bag.”

She laughed as she recalled all the workout equipment in the basement. The one item that belonged to Seth: the punching bag.

After dinner, Seth showed Jenks the rest of the home, ending their walk at a home theater. “There's an excellent movie on Turner Classics this evening. It's a favorite of Mrs. Walker's. Have you ever seen
Laura
, with Gene Tierney and Dana Andrews?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“Would you like to watch it?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He went to the kitchen and poured her another glass of wine. When he returned, they sat down beside each other, and he turned on the expansive screen of the television. He then lifted her hand and put it inside his. She felt the same energy course through her body that she felt any time he touched her. She flushed with incredible warmth.

Seth left her once during the movie, but returned a few minutes later with a bowl of hot popcorn.

After the show was over, Seth drove her home. On the way to Port Royal, they discussed the movie
Laura
and how a detective played by Dana Andrews had become obsessed with the beautiful portrait of Laura—really a painting of actress Gene Tierney. Believed murdered at the beginning of the movie, Laura enters her home and shocks the detective as he sits in her living room, consumed with the beautiful female vision in the portrait.

“I would have never expected another woman to have been murdered instead of Laura.” Jenks paused as she reflected on the movie. “You know the detective character really obsesses over Laura's portrait,” she said.

“It's easy to obsess over a beautiful woman.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” He paused for a moment. “Shotguns can do a lot of damage, and there was no DNA testing back then.”

“Who would have thought the murder weapon would be hidden in a clock? What do you like about the movie?”

“I like to look at Gene Tierney.” Seth glanced at her. “I'm just kidding. She's really not my type.”

“What is your type?”

He smiled at her in the dimly lit automobile.

“How did you know I would like the movie?” Jenks continued.

“Mrs. Walker is a fine, educated lady like you. I can see you two having similar taste.”

“Thank you, Seth.”

They reached Gigi's home at Port Royal, and without saying another word, he got out of the car and came around to open her door. Accompanying her inside, he slid his arms around her in an embrace and held her slight, five-foot four-inch frame against him. She felt safe and warm in his arms and her body quickly reacted as she felt a surge of fiery energy course through her limbs.