“Sure. I’ll put a sign up at the shop letting everyone know I’ll be opening late. I’ll go through my cell phone directory and see if I can round up some more volunteers too.”
“Thanks, sweetie. I appreciate your help.” She turned back to start typing again. “No messages yet. Check back later.”
I took out my cell phone and called as many potential volunteers as I could think of while I walked to Missing Pieces and put out my “Back at One” sign. Some of them said they’d go down to the beach and help out. Some were working and couldn’t leave. I talked to Cailey Fargo at the fire department. She promised to send everyone available over to the turtle rescue site. That’s one thing I love about Duck—we all pull together.
I was on my way home to pull out Gramps’s old Jeep when Tim almost ran into me. He swerved his shiny police car in my general direction, pulled up short in front of me, flashing his blue lights. “What do you think you’re doing out here alone?”
I shaded my eyes from the sun with my hand so I could look up at him. “I think I’m on my way back to my house. The turtle rescue people need vehicles to transport stuff.”
“I understood that
“At the Blue Whale painting, I hope. The way we’ve had rain lately, he better get some painting done before another storm hits. Why?”
“I guess I’ll be going with you, then. We’ll take my car. Your grandfather’s old Jeep doesn’t run half the time anyway. It’s because you never use it. Cars aren’t meant to sit in garages for months without being started.”
“As it happens, I’m going off duty for a short while. Besides, I think it would be considered a town courtesy to give the mayor a ride to an emergency.”
There was no way to talk him out of it. I got in the car without further fuss. If I continued to argue with him, the morning would be gone and I wouldn’t be any closer to the turtle rescue area.
I waved to Shayla, who was riding her bike toward the Duck Shoppes as we went by. She waved back, then stared for a minute. Later, she’d want to know what was going on.
The road down to the area where Turtle Rescue Day would be held was made of hard-packed sand. Most of the time, vehicles weren’t allowed to drive down here. Signs had already been posted to inform visitors they would have to park along Duck Road tomorrow. But today, to expedite the trip back and forth to fetch supplies, Carter Hatley was waving people in and out of the narrow road that went straight into the Atlantic.
“You better get down there, Mayor,” he leaned in the car window to say. “Mary Lou is having a cow. She needs somebody to get all of this organized.”
I smiled, and we drove down to the beach. Obviously, the problem wasn’t lack of help. There were at least a hundred people walking around not doing much of anything. Mary Lou was running back and forth across the beach trying to get things moving. A few men were carrying banners and signs, but they didn’t seem to know where to put them.
“Oh thank heaven you’re here, Dae!” Mary Lou actually half collapsed against me, her arms dramatically stretched out. “I don’t know what to do. Everything is such a mess. We won’t be ready tomorrow, and we’ll lose all of our donations. You know how we depend on that for the rest of the year. The baby turtles will be abandoned.”
Even for Mary Lou it was heavy drama. I thought she might cry, but she pulled herself together and looked me in the eye. “Now that you’re here, we can get some things done. You take that side, and I’ll take this side. Here’s a clipboard. It should be self-explanatory.”
She marched off with more confidence than I was feeling. My side consisted of a large group of men and women in bathing suits. Some were holding signs, and others were holding shovels. Buckets, gloves and other paraphernalia littered the flat sand. It was low tide, not a deadly sand castle in sight.
I looked at the clipboard and saw that my side was supposed to be putting up barricades that would close off the beach and also protect the turtle nesting area. It seemed simple enough. “Okay. I think all of those big orange cones are supposed to go across there.” I pointed to the far left side. “Half of you start on that. The rest of you, grab some shovels and we’ll get those posts in.”
I picked up one of the lightweight, stainless steel shovels as I walked by the stack. There were piles of blue plastic gloves, always donated by the hospital. Tim stayed by the police car, choosing to watch instead of participate. Mary Lou was headed off in the opposite direction with her small army following as fast as they could.
“Excuse me.” A burly man in a Myrtle Beach T-shirt stopped me. “I have a load of collapsible picnic tables with umbrellas that are supposed to be delivered here. I can’t get them down the road with all the other vehicles in the way.”
“All right.” I waved to Tim. Apparently, he was going to come in handy anyway. “This man will help you take care of that. Thanks.”
“Hey! I’m supposed to get a check when I drop these off. Have you got the check?”
I admitted I didn’t have the check and asked him to wait while I ran to get Mary Lou. He informed me quite clearly that he wasn’t going anywhere without his check. I didn’t bother replying, hoping Mary Lou had this in hand.
But when I reached her, she fell apart again. I was surprised at her emotional state. True, she was near fanatic about protecting the turtles, but aside from that, she was usually calm and capable. I guessed her agitation was due to the fact that this event was so important.
“I don’t have my wallet.” She covered her face with her sandy hands. “How could I be so
“Never mind, we’ll work it out. Where’s your wallet?”
“I think I left it at home. Would you mind getting it, Dae? It’s in the kitchen, I think. The key to the house is under the mat if the door is locked.”
“Not a problem. Tim can drive me there and back right away. I’ll have the driver wait. It’ll be fine.” I started to walk away, and she called me back.
“There are some baskets on the porch. Could you bring those back with you too? They’re for the relay race tomorrow. Everyone has to crawl like a turtle. That should be funny, huh?”
Chapter 18
Mary Lou’s back door was unlocked. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. Tim shook his head when he saw me push it open. “You know, the chief and I tell people to lock their doors. We walk around town and find doors open like this all the time. How do people expect us to protect them when they don’t protect themselves?”
“I suppose most people aren’t worried about it. We only have one or two break-ins a month. I’d probably forget to lock the door all the time at home. Gramps remembers it religiously.”
“That’s what comes from living in a small town.” He shrugged as we walked into the house. “People expect crime to be low. Maybe Miss Elizabeth’s death will wake a few people up around here.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” I saw the baskets on the side of the porch. They were heaped up on top of each other near the inside door. “Could you get those while I go in and get Mary Lou’s checkbook?”
“Sure. I’m going to talk to her about this, Dae. We should really have a fine of some sort for leaving your house open. It’s an invitation to crime.”
“I’ll let you be the one to go on record with that at the next town council meeting. You don’t run for public office. I bet that whoever goes along with that idea won’t be reelected.”
I knew I wouldn’t vote for it. And not because people wouldn’t like another fine. It was more because
The door that led into the kitchen was open too. Mary Lou had a nice modest-size clapboard house. The outside was a weathered slate color. The inside, from what I could see, was mostly yellow. In the kitchen, a small wood table with two chairs was nestled between a dish cabinet and a stove. A toaster oven sat in the middle of the
