do.
We got back to Duck finally, and Kevin dropped us both off at the Duck Shoppe’s parking lot. I promised to let him know what Chief Michaels said when I could get in touch with him.
“I’d like a promise that you won’t try to do any of this without me,” he added.
“I’d like snow for Christmas this year,” I joked, “but we don’t always get what we want.”
“Then I’m headed over to the sheriff’s office before I go back for that delivery of wineglasses at the Blue Whale.”
“No! Okay. I won’t do anything even if I happen to touch the right fisherman or boat. I’ll call you first.”
Fortunately, Gramps had already gone on to meet his friend at the Coffee House so he didn’t hear the conversation. I would never have heard the end of it if he had. Kevin took me at my word, and he kissed me before he left.
I went up the stairs to the boardwalk, trying to get back to more mundane things—like wondering if Trudy had made any sales this morning. There was an enclosed area that formed an open-ended walkway between town hall and several other shops. Visitors had to pass through there before reaching the boardwalk that faces the sound and leads to the other stores. It’s always a little dark here—even during the day. Sometimes teenagers hang out here at night, and store employees take advantage of the spot to smoke.
I was walking through the area when someone called my name, interrupting my thoughts and making me jump.
Brad Spitzer stepped out of the shadows. “Mayor O’Donnell? I have a few questions for you.”
Chapter 14
“Sorry. Did I scare you?” Brad asked when he saw me jump.
“That’s okay.” I forced a smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone. What did you want to ask me?”
“Mind if I walk a little with you?”
“No, of course not—I’m only going to my shop.”
“That’s fine. It won’t take long.”
I started walking again, and he fell in step with me as we emerged into the watery sunlight that filtered between the fast moving clouds over the sound.
“Mayor, have you spoken with Agnes Caudle about the fire?”
I felt a little nervous, so my words were carefully chosen. “Yes. I got back from the hospital a few minutes ago. Agnes is doing okay. They might release her today.”
“Good news! Does she recall anything about the fire—anything unusual?”
“We didn’t get into that. I’m sure she’d be glad to talk to you.”
“Maybe. People share things with friends and neighbors—things they won’t tell the authorities.” He paused and leaned against the railing, looking out over the water. “Mrs. Caudle’s house fire could’ve been a deliberate attempt to kill her. My report will state that a mixture of gas and oil—the same type you might use in a lawn mower or a chainsaw—was used as an accelerant.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was unusual for someone in Brad’s position to give out information like this— unless there was a reason. “At least there was no cannon this time.”
I was sorry as soon as I’d said it. It sounded flip and uncaring. I didn’t mean for it to, but that’s the way it came out.
He straightened up and looked directly into my face. “True. The source isn’t as strange. Do you have any idea who might want to hurt both Max and Agnes Caudle?”
“No! Everyone loves both of them. I can’t imagine who’d want to do this.”
“Sometimes people have a hard time expressing a problem. Mayor O’Donnell, I have to ask—did you have a problem with the Caudles?”
I knew something was up. I hadn’t expected him to question me about what happened, but now I understood why he was here. “Are you suggesting I had something to do with either incident?”
Brad shook his head and smiled a little, like he was trying to throw me off. “No, ma’am. But it seems mighty strange to me that you were at the museum when it blew up. You were at the house during the fire. I might even consider it odd that you were at one of the last places Sam Meacham was seen alive.”
I lost my mayor’s smile and glared at him. “I haven’t killed anyone recently, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You know, we thought everything was tied up with this feud between Max and Sam. But that’s off the books now. We know it was someone else.”
“Mind telling me why?” The wind blew my hair into my face. I scraped it aside with angry, trembling fingers. Was he
“Sure. This is still confidential information, mind you. Mr. Meacham was dead long before the house fire, according to the medical examiner’s office in Manteo. Even if he was responsible for the first event, he wasn’t there for the second.”
“I can’t deny that I was nearby when the explosion and the house fire occured, or that I found Sam Meacham’s Segway,” I responded. “But I have no motive for hurting anyone.”
“Although you did have opportunity.”
I was a little scared and very angry at the same time. I could continue to defend myself to him, but what was the point? If he planned on getting a confession from me, he was going to be disappointed. He would have to continue his investigation to find out anything else. “I won’t talk about this with you any further.”
“You certainly have that right. Maybe you should consider talking with your grandfather. I understand he was an excellent sheriff. He might be able to give you some guidance. Otherwise, you might need an attorney.”
“This is a stupid waste of time and energy, Mr. Spitzer. The real killer is out there somewhere. My only crime might be that I tend to be in the wrong places at the wrong time.”
“I’ve also heard that you like to investigate a little here and there.”
“I don’t think that makes me a killer.”
He took a card out of his wallet. I hoped he didn’t notice that my hands were shaking when he handed it to me. “This is my cell number. If you need to talk, I might be able to help you with the DA. Cooperation goes a long way in my book. You help me and I’ll help you. Thanks for talking with me, Mayor.”
I didn’t—couldn’t reply. As I walked quickly away from him, my phone started ringing. It was Nancy. She was at town hall and had news about Adelaide, the woman whose dress had floored me when I touched it at the Blue Whale.
“I looked up anyone named Adelaide who’d drowned in recent history,” she told me when I got there. “There was a woman in February 1955—Valentine’s Day. They found her washed up on the Atlantic side only a few miles down from the Blue Whale.”
“What was her whole name?” I took out my notebook.
“Adelaide Reynolds, twenty years old. She was married and had a young daughter.”
“Reynolds.” I mulled the name over. “Could she be related to Floyd Reynolds, Agnes Caudle’s father?”
“I don’t know. Want me to check on that?”
“That would be great. Thanks. But not tonight. This is Saturday, remember? I don’t think we even pay you to work on Saturday.”
“You know I love to come in here. I don’t care what day it is.” She smiled at me, her eyes searching my face. “Anything I should know about, Dae?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m still connecting the dots right now. I appreciate your help, Nancy.”
“You know I love to snoop!”
We both laughed, but it was true.
“The Duck Historical Society has planned an emergency meeting,” she said. “It’s Monday at seven thirty P.M. They’d like you to be there. I think they may be talking about a fundraiser for the new museum. They probably want you to lead the charge.”
“That’s fine. I’ll put it on my calendar. Now go home. Take up knitting or something.” She knew I was joking,
