Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (45 page)

“Up there,” the captain said.

Jefferson guided the carriage to a stop in front of a wedding cake confection of a home with porches and fretwork all around both levels. Bidding them goodbye, Captain Tucker headed toward the front door of the home as Jefferson eased the carriage back onto Whitehead Street.

“What would you like to see?” he asked.

“Just give me the grand tour,” she said with a smile.

And so he did. After an hour’s drive around the small island, they ended up back at the docks. Sadie noticed that a crowd had gathered.

“May we go see?” she asked Jefferson.

He took out his pocket watch and noted the time. “I don’t suppose it would hurt,” he said as he parked the carriage and then helped her down.

Her legs bothered Sadie less now, although if she paid close attention she could feel the phantom roll of the waves when she stood still. She stretched, happy to be on solid ground and yet feeling slightly guilty that she was enjoying a pleasurable morning as a tourist.

She linked arms with Jefferson and allowed him to escort her toward the group now gathered in a tight knot around a man who was nailing something to the broad side of a wall. A sign, she decided when he moved away.

Owing to his superior height, Jefferson could easily read what Sadie could not see for the crowd standing in her way. “What does it say?”

“It appears there will be an auction,” he said as he released her arm and moved closer. “I didn’t realize wrecking was still going on here. Apparently there’s been a salvage.”

The crowd parted as the man moved to open the doors of the warehouse. A moment later, most of those watching filed inside. Sadie joined them, leaving Jefferson to catch up.

Another set of doors opened on the opposite side of the warehouse, flooding the cavernlike space with light. Tables lined up in rows that went down the length of the room and offered a seemingly unrelated array of goods. Items too large for the tables were stacked in heaps wherever space could be found.

Sadie made her way toward a table covered in bolts of fabric, some decorated with elaborate embroidery and flecked with strands of gold and silver, stacks of waterlogged books, and a tangle of fishing nets. Beneath the nets, she saw a child’s doll and a pair of ladies dancing shoes.

At each table she found a similar combination of oddly placed articles, some of value and others seemingly worthless. Jefferson came up beside her and reached for a glass epergne. The delicate crystal vase, with its tall center flute that rose up from a wide bowl on an elevated foot with a lovely enameled pattern just beneath a wide row of gold gilding, was exquisite.

“Lovely,” she said as she ran her fingers on the stripe of gold. “Eighteenth century. Probably English, and definitely handblown. Look at the craftsmanship.”

“Yes, very nice,” he said, though his expression showed more confusion than appeal.

Jefferson’s attempt at finding an interest in the delicate piece made her giggle. “You don’t know what this is, do you?”

“Yes, of course.” He held the epergne up to the light and seemed to be examining it. Then he shook his head. “No, I have no idea.”

Sadie laughed again. “It’s a glass epergne.” As his brows gathered, she tried again. “A flower vase.” She pointed to the tall flute in the center. “Flowers with long stems go here. Usually roses, although other varieties would look just as lovely. And here,” she said as she gestured to the bowl attached at the bottom of the flute. “That is where flowers with shorter stems would go. Often this means the stems are removed altogether and left to float in the water. It’s really quite lovely.”

Jefferson returned the vase to the table. “I’ll take your word for it.”

She glanced around at the large pieces of furniture against the walls—a pair of Louis XIV armchairs over there and a late seventeenth-century Gloucestershire carved chest over there—and then returned her attention to Jefferson.

“What is all this? I mean, how do all of these odd items end up being jumbled together for a single auction?”

“Oh, that.” He nudged her past a group of townsfolk who were debating whether to bid on several pieces of Spode serving pieces. “What do you know about the wrecking trade?”

“Wrecking?” She shook her head as they continued walking toward the door. “Nothing.”

They emerged into the sunshine once more, the crowd outside now dispersed. “It’s a nice morning. Perhaps we could walk?”

Sadie nodded and linked arms with him. They strolled away from the warehouse and down the sidewalk that snaked alongside the pier. Fat white gulls dipped and dived as fisherman mended nets down by the water, their vessels secured to the pier by ropes that held them taut against the tide.

“The wrecking trade,” Jefferson said when they had walked a little farther, “was once the most profitable industry on the island.” He stopped to turn toward the horizon. “Out there is one of the most treacherous navigational channels in the region. Until the lighthouse was built, vessels that were not piloted by captains familiar with the reef often ended up on it. And if there was a storm? Then even the most seasoned mariners were left to the mercy of the waves.”

She followed his gaze out to the water and the blue sky beyond. “What does that have to do with all those items up for sale?”

“Often a ship could not be saved, but its passengers and cargo could. See that lookout tower over there?” he asked as he pointed to a platform off in the distance. “When a wreck was spied, the wreckers were called to duty. The first one to reach the ailing vessel was declared in charge of the salvage.”

“So they saved the passengers and as much cargo as they could. And then they sold anything of value?”

“At regular auctions supervised by a judge, yes. I’ll spare you a recitation of the rules and percentages and the requirements for licenses and such, but suffice it to say that even after the underwriters were paid, a man could become quite wealthy in this business.”

“I see.”

She noticed sails on the horizon and watched as they drew near. “So anything could end up for sale in a single auction?”

“Yes, theoretically.”

A thought occurred. “Such as antiquities? And without having to prove any sort of provenance?”

Jefferson shrugged. “If they were on board a vessel at the time it was wrecked, then yes.” He slanted her a look. “Why? What are you thinking?”

Sadie shook her head. “Don’t mind me. I’m always trying to connect the dots in a case when I’m in the middle of it.”

Thirty-Four

T
houghts of the wreckers and their curious industry still plagued Sadie even as Jefferson removed his hat and escorted her into the front parlor of Dr. Porter’s lovely home on Whitehead Street. Captain Tucker and the doctor were engaged in a discussion regarding the potential eradication of yellow fever when the butler announced them.

“Look who is here.” The doctor turned his attention to Sadie as Captain Tucker made the introductions.

As they were led through the center of the home to an elegant dining room, Sadie noted the paintings and furniture and their contrast with the rather simple architecture. Had the doctor benefitted from the wrecker’s auctions in purchasing these things? It appeared so. Or perhaps he merely had eclectic tastes.

After luncheon, where the men continued to discuss matters of business and public health and Sadie silently contemplated the particulars of the Astor case, the trio returned to the carriage. And while Sadie was no closer to solving any of the riddles presented in the documents she and Jefferson had studied last night, Captain Tucker was in great humor.

“Stop up here, would you, son?” he said as he gestured to a two-story house situated on a piece of property just down the street from the Porter home.

When Jefferson complied, his father jumped out of the carriage and strolled up to the front door to let himself in. “What do you suppose he’s doing?” Sadie asked.

Jefferson’s soft chuckle surprised her. “When it comes to my father, I rarely inquire.” He swiveled in his seat to better converse with her. “You were awfully quiet earlier.”

She mustered a small smile. “I thought it wise to listen rather than expose my lack of knowledge of the particulars of the transmission of yellow fever.”

“So you weren’t mulling over the facts of our combined cases?”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I might have been.”

“Oh, Sadie.” His gentle, almost melancholy tone was not what she expected. “You’re on a beautiful island on a lovely day in May. Can’t you forget about the job and just enjoy yourself for a few hours?”

“Of course I can,” she protested. “But under the circumstances I don’t think we—”

“Ahoy, there,” the captain called as he stepped out onto the porch. “Go on back to the schooner. I’ll be along directly.”

Jefferson gave Sadie a doubtful look and then went to speak with his father. After a few minutes of what appeared to be serious discussion, he returned.

“Apparently, he is considering the purchase of a home. This one.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “Why? I mean, it’s lovely and all, but why here? And why this one?”

Grasping the reins, Jefferson set the carriage in motion again. “The Tift family is selling, and it appears that my father is interested in buying. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

“Well, this
is
a seaport. And your father has interests in shipping. Perhaps he wants a place convenient for that purpose. And wouldn’t you think that most of the ships leaving from Southern ports would have to pass this area, at least indirectly?”

He looked over sharply. “How did you know that?”

“It was in the dossier on your brother.”

The fact she knew about his family’s background was, to say the least, disconcerting. That it was caused by an interest in John’s past, however, was understandable.

“Yes, of course,” he finally said.

Returning his attention to the road, Jefferson drove the remainder of the way to the docks in silence. After returning the carriage to the livery, he stepped out with his grin back in place.

“What is that for? I was certain you were upset with me for mentioning your brother.”

“If by ‘that’ you mean my smile, then you will just have to wait. You see, I have my doubts about a statement you’ve made, and I am ready to allow you to prove it.”

“Prove what?”

He set off down the sidewalk and she hurried to catch up. When a gust of wind captured her hat and hauled it into the air, Sadie stopped to fetch it from the gutter and then lost sight of her companion when he turned a corner. Only the fact that his hat still sat securely on his head kept her from losing him completely.

“What has gotten into you, Jefferson Tucker?” she asked when she found him again.

Slowing his pace, he allowed her to fall into step beside him. “Your hat. There’s mud on it.”

He paused at the walkway leading to the pier and took it from her hands. Retrieving his handkerchief, Jefferson made a futile attempt at wiping the hat clean.

“Never mind. I’ll buy you another,” he said as he tossed the ruined hat up and then watched it plummet into the sea.

“Jefferson! Whatever possessed you to do that?”

“You won’t need it. Come with me.”

Grasping her hand, he led her down the pier. “Wait here,” he said before going over to speak to a fisherman who was busy mending his nets.