A Timely Vision

I turned on my computer and looked through the old files. Most of them had been slowly but surely put into the computer database. I typed in “Silas Butler” and his file came up. Silas had been shot and killed on Monday, June 8, 1978. The day after Wild Johnny Simpson’s arrival at the Blue Whale!

I looked at the notes on his death. Silas was suspected of “illegal trafficking,” which I’d learned from Gramps could mean anything from smuggled drugs to cigarettes. It was kind of a catch-all phrase used by the sheriff’s department. I read further into the file:

Silas was shot and killed by a sheriff’s deputy after failing to lay down his gun. Deputy Ronald Michaels was on desk duty for two weeks during an investigation. It was found that he had performed his duty adequately, and he was returned to his job without further issue. On August 19, 1978, he was given a commendation for his handling of the event.

The chief had shot and killed Silas Butler! No one had ever mentioned that part of the folklore. It never failed that in telling these tales, long-time Duck residents left out some facts and embellished others all in the name of making a better story.

I’d been only about five at the time Butler was killed, so naturally I couldn’t recall anything about the death. But I had to wonder why Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mildred didn’t hate the chief for his role in their brother’s death. Finding that Post-it had led to more questions I couldn’t answer.

I trusted Chief Michaels. But what did this Post-it mean? Was the public record wrong? Had Chief Michaels not actually killed Silas Butler all those years ago? Was it possible Bad Butler was still alive? And if so, why hadn’t the chief said something about it? He wouldn’t keep something like this to himself, would he? There had to be some mistake. Or I was misinterpreting what I’d read. One phone call could’ve cleared everything up. I didn’t make that call.

I thought about it but argued that I would see the chief at the ribbon cutting for the new Mexican restaurant. I could ask him then. It couldn’t be dead Silas Butler in Kitty Hawk at that nursing home anyway. It could wait.

But the morning dragged. I went and got coffee and talked to Phil for a while before I opened Missing Pieces. Of course it would be a slow day on the boardwalk. A lot of customers would’ve taken my mind off my worries. I watched the teapot clock in my shop crawl along until ten fifteen. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I put out the “Closed” sign and locked the door.

Ribbon cuttings in Duck bring out the usual suspects. There’s Barney from the jewelry store and Mark Samson from the Rib Shack. Both of them are members of the Duck Chamber of Commerce. Carter Hatley from Game World was president. He brought the big wooden scissors to cut the bright red ribbon. The ribbon is always provided by Betty’s Boutique and Floral. Betty attends, enjoying the compliments on her elaborate ribbon design.

Once in a while, one of the other town council members comes by to show support. Usually, this happens when there’s food involved. But today, even though there was food, it was only me representing the town. No sign of the chief. I held the scissors and stood next to the red ribbon with everyone else behind me. The chamber of commerce secretary took a few pictures for the town’s website and archives.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a newspaper or TV reporter at one of these events. But that’s okay. It’s a nice welcome to a new business. The owners all smile and shake my hand. I give them a small, gold plastic key that says “Duck” on it. It’s exciting for everyone.

I saw Luke Helms in the sparse crowd right before the ribbon cutting. He came up to me after it was over and said, “I thought I might find you here. Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Of course. Do you want to go back to town hall?”

“No. This is fine. It’s about Mrs. Mason.”

I felt a terrible weight in my chest even as the sun finally broke through the heavy fog. It looked as if the day would clear up, probably be warm and sunny.

We walked over to the side of the road near a large purple horse decorated with sparkly stars. I wished I could jump up on it and ride to the hospital to rescue Miss Mildred. I knew it wouldn’t happen, even if it were a real horse, but the urge to do something was overpowering.

“I’m afraid it’s not going well for her. Yesterday, the judge found her incompetent to stand trial. I don’t really know why. She’s as sharp as a tack, except for this ghost thing. It’s not something a judge wants to hear when he thinks you’ve killed your sister. It sounds like she invented a fantasy to block out what she did.”

I knitted my fingers together, not sure what to say. “I know you did what you could for her. I think she really believes the purse came from her sister. Someone is setting her up. They planted the purse and made it seem like it was Miss Elizabeth bringing it to her. Then they planted the shovel that killed her sister. It’s a terrible thing.”

Luke scratched his spiky, sandy-colored hair. “I wish I could do more. I’m not giving up yet. Not by a long shot. But she won’t listen to reason, and I can’t prove what you just said. It may be true, but without proof, she’s a crazy old lady who killed her sister after years of feuding with her.”

“Yeah. We all know about the feud. I suppose that didn’t help either.”

“I can tell you it didn’t help when Chief Michaels testified about how calm she was when the two of you went to tell her Miss Elizabeth was dead. I know he’s supposed to tell the truth, but it seemed to me that he went out of his way to make it sound worse than it was.”

I thought about Silas Butler, but then shook my head. “If I can help in any way, please let me know. What happens now?”

“She’ll be assigned to a mental hospital, probably on the mainland. Someone will be put in charge of her well-being. I suppose some family member will be given her power of attorney and they’ll take care of her estate. She could be stripped of her rights in a legal procedure. But that will take some time.”

“She has no family left. The sisters had no heirs. There aren’t any cousins, nephews. At least not as far as I know.” Silas Butler whispered in my brain.

“I guess a legal guardian will be appointed.”

I put up my hand to shade my eyes from the sun behind his head. “Could that be you? ”

“I don’t know. I’ll check on it and get back to you.”

“Thank you so much, Luke.” I put out my hand to shake his. “I really appreciate what you’ve done.”

He shook my hand and smiled. “That’s what I like about Duck. Everybody looks after everybody else. It means we all get in each other’s business from time to time. But it’s okay.”

“That’s true.” We stood there smiling at each other for a few minutes. The rest of the small ribbon-cutting crowd wandered away. Part of me was thinking about Silas Butler and Miss Mildred. The other part was noticing how blue Luke’s eyes were.

“Would you like to get some lunch?” he asked in an offhand way, as though unsure of how I’d reply.

“Sure. Why not?”

I judged his age to be around forty, not too far ahead of me. He seemed to be in good shape. He must’ve been a very good lawyer to have retired so young. I could do worse for a lunch companion.

We agreed to try out the new restaurant. The enticing cooking aromas were already wafting out to the parking lot.

Inside was cool and colorful with Mexican music playing in the background. There weren’t many people yet. I felt sure it would be popular later. We ordered our food, then sat back in the cool, dark booth to look at each other. Oh, the awkwardness of first encounters!

“How about those Braves?” Luke began the conversation after a long pause. “They’re really moving this year.”

I hated to admit I knew next to nothing about sports, so I nodded and agreed. I’d realized earlier in my career as mayor of Duck that this was all most people needed. “This is a nice place,” I commented. “Especially since we don’t have any other Mexican food down at this end.”

He nodded, smiled and agreed, which told me he knew next to nothing about local demographics. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for Mrs. Mason. But I’ll check on being the trustee for her estate.”

“That would be wonderful.”

The waiter brought some chips and salsa, and we spent the next few minutes munching. I could hear a TV somewhere in the restaurant, but I couldn’t see it. That was okay with me. It was probably tuned into a sports event anyway.