not that unusual.”
“What about the friend he was with in Corolla?” Kevin asked. “Do they know who that was yet?”
“I haven’t heard anything about it. But I’m not in the loop like I used to be,” he admitted. “Frankly, I don’t think they’ve really pushed that part of the investigation.”
“I can understand that.” Kevin nodded.
“Why?” I questioned. “Why wouldn’t that be important?”
“The way Sam’s office looked—Chief Michaels said his home was tossed around the same way—like someone was looking for something. Unfortunately, we may never know who this other person with the Segway was or if he was involved in what happened. He could’ve been someone Sam met at the rental place, for all we know.” Kevin finished his thoughts on the matter, then looked at Gramps.
“We don’t have all the facts yet, Dae,” Gramps said. “We may never know everything that happened. But if Sam’s death is officially ruled a suicide, it will go a long way toward solving the case.”
“So we’re supposed to think Sam was running away to kill himself and took the time to rent a Segway before he did it. What happened to the other guy? Was he hanging around taking pictures of the mustangs while Sam walked into the water?”
Neither one of my two favorite men answered. I charged ahead. “Well I don’t believe it. Sam planned to blow up the museum and kill his friend with a cannonball, went through all the elaborate work it took to accomplish that and after doing it, he was so overcome by remorse that he killed himself. That doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“It might sound crazy,” Kevin admitted as we picked up speed in a clear area between Duck and Southern Shores. “But believe me, this isn’t as crazy as a lot of other things I’ve heard. People have plotted for years to kill someone in much more elaborate, detailed ways than shooting off a cannonball. When it’s over and you realize what you’ve done, you fall apart. It’s different planning to kill someone than it is actually doing it.”
Gramps seemed to agree with that line of thought. “I investigated cases like that too. People change when they follow through on something like this. They aren’t the same anymore. Some are hardened by it—others crumble like dry seaweed.”
“I guess that must be what Chief Michaels is thinking too.” I pointed out the entrance to the hospital so Kevin wouldn’t pass it. “It still doesn’t make any sense to me. I’m glad I’m not a police officer.”
Traffic had been light, so we’d made good time getting to Kill Devil Hills. I wondered how Agnes would take the news of Sam’s death. Would she be happy he’d killed himself or sorry that he wouldn’t go to jail for his crimes? Agnes didn’t seem the vindictive type, but as Gramps and Kevin had recently instructed me, you never knew how someone would react until it happened.
When we were in the elevator going up to the second floor, it struck me that Sam’s death could prove whether he was responsible for the house fire. It seemed a certainty to everyone else that he blew up the museum. But if it turned out that Sam was already dead when Agnes’s house was set on fire, who else would want to hurt her? And wouldn’t finding that answer cast some doubt on Sam being the only one who would want to kill Max?
I didn’t ask those questions aloud. The elevator chimed as it reached the floor and the doors parted. Both of Agnes’s daughters were there. They hugged me and Gramps and grimly shook hands with Kevin.
“I don’t understand how anyone could want to hurt Mom or Dad,” Celia, the older one, said, her eyes red from crying.
“It’s crazy!” Vicky, the younger, protested. “What’s happened to Duck that would allow some insane person to hurt my mom and dad? Everyone always loved them when we were growing up.”
“I don’t have an answer for you, girls.” Gramps hugged both of them again. “I hope we’ll have some real evidence soon. I know it’s hard not understanding.”
“Mr. Meacham ate dinner at our house.” Celia shuddered. “All the time he was plotting to kill Dad.”
“You’re letting your imagination go wild,” Gramps said. “Wait for the evidence. Until we have everything, we don’t know the truth.”
“Is she awake?” Not that I wasn’t sympathetic to Vicky and Celia’s emotional states, but I could feel the pull from the coin in my pocket. I needed to know what Agnes was talking about at the house yesterday.
“Yes,” Vicky said. “She’s not too bad for someone who almost died in a fire. A few burns and some smoke inhalation—she’s tough. I thought we’d never convince her to stay here last night.”
“She’s a Banker born and bred.” Gramps smiled. “May we see her?”
“It’s all right with us.” Celia bit her lip and glanced at her sister. “She threw us out a few minutes ago. She said we’re making too big a fuss. She’s never liked anyone taking care of her. Maybe you could talk to her, Sheriff O’Donnell. She might listen to you.”
“Lord knows she won’t listen to us,” Vicky added.
“It’s only Horace now, girls,” he said. “I’ll be glad to have a word with her. And I’ll be careful not to fuss.”
“That would be wonderful!” Celia said. “Sorry about calling you sheriff. Old habits and everything. You were the sheriff while we were growing up. I guess you’ll always be the sheriff to us. Whatever you can do to help with Mom. We’d like to be in there to hear what the doctor has to say when he comes.”
“I’ll be careful.” Gramps hugged them again, and we all turned to go into Agnes’s room.
We silently decided to let Gramps go in first since he’d known Agnes the longest. “Aggie?” He knocked gently and leaned his head around the door. “It’s me—Horace. Mind if I come in?”
The patient inside stirred on the bed in the shadowed room. “Horace? Is that you? Please come in.”
Gramps gave us all a look—
“You brought flowers!” Agnes exclaimed. “How nice. And Dae, you’re here too. And that nice man from the Blue Whale. It’s wonderful to see all of you.”
When we were in the room and the door was closed, I felt a twinge of frustration. This wasn’t the way I’d planned it. I wanted to speak to Agnes alone about the gold coin she’d given me.
“How are you feeling?” Gramps made small talk with her.
She frowned at her daughters, who were cowering in one corner. “You brought them back in with you? How could you?”
Neither girl spoke, but Gramps patted Agnes’s bandaged hand where it rested on the bed. “Now, you know these girls want what’s best for you. I don’t know what the feud’s about, but this isn’t a good time to be fighting over anything.”
“Easy for you to say.” She sniffed. “You’re not a prisoner in this death trap they call a hospital.”
“I hear you might be going home,” Gramps said. “I think that’s some good news. Celia and Vicky were worried about you. You gave us all a fright.”
“And I’d be dead if it wasn’t for
Kevin shrugged. “No thanks necessary. We were doing our job, Mrs. Caudle.”
“Thank heaven!” Celia called out, then put her hands over her mouth. “Sorry, Mom.”
Despite this touching family tableau, I was wondering if there was any possibility that all of them would leave so I could get on with talking to Agnes.
I know it was a little cold—my only excuse was the pressure I felt from the information I’d seen when I touched the gold coin. It made me nervous and a little irritable. Not my usual cheerful self. And I realized it was my own fault—if I’d considered the problem sooner, I would’ve come alone.
Gramps brought Celia and Vicky to Agnes’s bedside, where they all hugged. Kevin joined me near the window where I was skulking. “Are you going to ask about the gold?” he whispered.
I glanced around like a nervous cat in a new home. “I can’t. Not with everyone here. I need a few minutes alone with her.”
“Maybe I can help with that.”
I didn’t have a chance to ask how before he wandered close to the bed again. What could he possibly say or do that would make everyone leave?
“Is there anywhere around here to get a good cup of coffee?” he asked Celia. He smiled at her—I can’t describe it, but if he’d given
