He nodded. “I understand. Things are tough. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. Believe me, I’ve been in that spot.”
“Young man,” Gramps bellowed, “I have no inclination to sell my house to you.”
Chuck’s smile faded. “But you wanted me to come in and eat pie.”
I took out the medal and put it in his hand. “I have something of yours. Something you’ve been looking for.”
“Where did you find this?” Chuck stared at the medal.
“On Duck Road coming back here through town. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I realized it was yours when you came to the door.”
He looked at me as though he’d wandered into an episode of
“It’s difficult to explain.”
Shayla made an impatient clicking sound with her teeth. “It’s not
Chuck looked even more uncomfortable. “This medal belonged to my mother. It was the first award she ever won after she became a real estate agent. She lost it twenty years ago. No way she dropped it
“I’m glad I met you so I could give it back.” I smiled and hoped it would ease some of his discomfort, but it didn’t help. He pushed back his chair and left his pie half eaten. His eyes were wild. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. He picked up his brochures and let himself out the front door.
“You’re welcome,” Kevin called, an annoyed smile on his face.
“Aren’t you going to call him back?” Shayla demanded. “The next man might not offer you so much. I wonder what
Conversation lagged after that. The pie was gone and the coffee was cold. It wasn’t long before Shayla convinced Kevin to take her out for that drink. He asked politely if Gramps and I would like to come. Both of us said no, and I waved good-bye to them from the front door.
“They make a nice couple.” Gramps came up behind me and waved too.
“You think so?”
“If you aren’t interested in him, I do. Any chance you might be interested in him?”
“I don’t think so. He’s okay, I guess. For an outsider.”
“I can’t believe you’re so prejudiced, Dae. I know we didn’t raise you to be that way.”
“He might decide to move back to D.C. someday.” I closed the front door and turned off the outside light.
Gramps let out a grunt as he pushed himself back in his recliner. “You know how to ruin an old man’s fun, don’t you?”
I sneaked out of the house early the next morning. Gramps didn’t have a charter, so he’d stayed up late and was sleeping in. It was nice escaping without eating breakfast. He’s kind of a good-breakfast nut. I love him, but sometimes our lives clash a little.
Duck is beautiful early in the morning. It’s the one time the town resembles the way it was when I was growing up. When I was in my twenties, the place went through a kind of growth spurt, like people suddenly discovered Duck was here. Since then, it has to be cold for there to be any peace and quiet. Except in the mornings. Combine that peace and quiet with a good cup of coffee and the morning paper, and I was in heaven. There was always a little town gossip too. I liked that with my coffee.
Some of the other shopkeepers said good morning to me as we passed on the boardwalk overlooking the sound. A few joggers were out, along with some hungry seagulls scavenging for food. I settled on a bench, ready to sip my coffee and enjoy that lazy, satisfying feeling that comes from sitting on the boardwalk, watching people go by.
My mood was shattered when I opened the paper and took a good look at the front page. In broad headlines, Miss Elizabeth’s death became public property. It seemed wrong somehow to share all the intimate details of the tragedy with strangers. How did reporters find out she was wearing that black dress with the little pink hearts?
I half expected to see a picture of her body being carried to the medical examiner’s office. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. The paper ran a much younger shot of her from when she was crowned Miss Duck seventy years ago. I glanced at the caption. The photo was courtesy of the Duck Historical Museum and Max Caudle.
I could tell from the growing heat of the sun and the crowd beginning to build that it was time to open Missing Pieces. But my heart wasn’t in it today. My mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Miss Elizabeth. What had happened to her out there, alone in the dunes? Imagination can be a terrible thing.
I was so caught up in thinking about the tragedy that I completely neglected Chief Michaels’s number-one rule for keeping safe: Be aware. I’d even gone to his safety refresher course over the winter, yet still I wasn’t keeping track of my surroundings.
As I opened the door to the shop, someone brushed by me, knocking me against the side of the building and grabbing my purse at the same time. It took me an instant to realize what had happened. I looked up to see the purse snatcher running down the boardwalk toward the parking lot. “Hey! You can’t do that!”
I couldn’t remember whether the chief had said you were or weren’t supposed to chase someone who took your purse. It was my first thought, though, and before I knew it, my feet were following. I ran after him, taking a shortcut through the midsection of the Duck Shoppes to head him off. I kept yelling, hoping someone might stop him before my lungs exploded. I hadn’t run anywhere for a long time.
The thief was tall and thin, kind of scruffy looking from the back. He looked familiar, and I suddenly realized he was the young man who’d asked me about a job on the Fourth of July. He must’ve been setting me up. And if someone didn’t do something to help me stop him, he was going to get away with my purse.
I yelled again and tried to speed up. He was passing the Coffee House, and I saw him run around the back of the Dumpster on the side. Was he trying to hide or trying to double back to confuse me?
I had my answer a second later as he ran out from behind the Dumpster and headed back in the direction from which we’d come. There was a small runoff ditch beside the parking lot that he plowed through, water splashing everywhere as I followed him back to the blacktop. I was closer now because I’d waited for him to make his move, but he was still faster than me. I was going to lose him and with him, my credit cards, driver’s license and a very expensive tube of my favorite lipstick. Lucky my keys had been in my hand to open the door.
We kept running through the parking lot. I wasn’t sure which way he’d turn. One way went up to the boardwalk again and the other way went right down into the sound. He might lose me in the gathering crowds starting to shop. If he ran down into the water, I had him.
Then something amazing happened. Tim Mabry jumped down from the boardwalk right on top of the purse snatcher. The boy crumpled under his weight. Suddenly everyone noticed what was going on and took an interest. Where were they when I was trying to save my property?
“You need this boy for something?” Tim grinned as he hauled the young man to his feet.
“H-he . . . stole . . . my . . . p-purse.” I tried to catch my breath, but couldn’t seem to get enough air into my poor lungs. I leaned against the side of the stairs with a dozen people staring down on us.
“Purse snatcher, huh?” Tim yanked my purse from the thief’s hands. “You know, we may have to have a little talk about where you were Fourth of July. We have a purse missing that might be part of an important murder case.”
“Should you tell him that?” I wondered, gratefully accepting my purse from him. “Won’t that mess up the investigation?”
“I don’t think that’s a problem, Mayor. You don’t worry your pretty head about it. We’ll take care of everything.”
His tone set my teeth on edge as it always did, but I couldn’t complain. He’d stopped the purse snatcher and rescued my lipstick. I knew what was coming next, and I accepted it graciously. When he asked me out for dinner, I said yes. How could I say no even though I knew another marriage proposal waited for me after the last course?
Tim handcuffed the young man and then led him to his police car parked on the far side of the lot. As I
