“Scarlett, can you wait out here for us?” I said when Jack reached us.
She sighed.
“Isaac’s out on the balcony with a pitcher of Key limeade and a dozen conch fritters,” Jack said.
Jack’s nephew was just a year older than Scarlett. And though the two weren’t exactly peas in a pod, he’d had her at conch fritters.
As she bounded over toward the big sliding glass door across the wide-open space, Ange and I followed Jack inside.
Harper sat on the faded leather couch, and Pete sat behind his desk. Ange strode over and wrapped her arms around the clearly shaken woman while Jack shut the door behind us.
The owner of Salty Pete’s and one of the most iconic men in the islands, Pete Jameson was in his sixties with a tanned bald head, a round belly, and a shiny metal hook instead of a right hand. An avid adventurer, treasure hunter, and collector, when Pete wasn’t at his restaurant, he was out fishing or scouring the islands for relics. As usual, his big oak desk was covered in open books, loose pages, and various trinkets.
After Ange and I comforted Harper as best we could, I sat down beside her and got down to business.
“Jane said that you wanted to speak with me,” I said.
Harper nodded, then swallowed. “I… I want your help,” she said. “I want to figure out who did this.”
I thought for a second. When it comes to murder, there’s usually one best place to start an investigation. Motive.
“You have any idea why someone would want to kill your uncle?” I asked. “Did he have any—”
“Enemies?” she said, then shook her head. “No. John was a good man. Easy-going. Kept to himself mostly. Once Aunt Margaret died, he became somewhat of a hermit. Only left his house for food or to go metal detecting.”
I focused a moment, rubbing my chin.
“Do you have any theories on motives for this?” Ange said, being smart and just asking the question flat out.
Harper nodded.
“On the morning of his murder, he found something.” She slipped out her phone and thumbed to a picture. Holding it out for us to see, she added, “He sent me this and was really excited about it.”
It was an image of an oval-shaped gold-colored object with the capital letters C and S embossed in the middle.
“A belt buckle?” Ange said. She was sharper than my dive knife and beat me to the conclusion.
“Not just any belt buckle,” Pete said. “That CS means it’s a Confederate belt buckle from the Civil War.” He pointed at Harper’s phone and added, “Show them the other side.”
Harper slid her finger across the phone’s screen, revealing a second image. This one showed the back side of the buckle. I was just about to ask what the significance of it was, then I spotted initials carved into the corner.
“W.S.?” I said.
“William Sawyer,” Pete said. “Or at least, that’s what we believe from our research so far.” He eyed the books and papers spread across his desk. “But we’ve just started digging.”
“I’m guessing there’s some significance to that name?” I said.
“He was a member of the Avengers, bro,” Jack said.
For a moment, I thought that my beach bum friend had been spending a little too much time in the sun and watching too many superhero movies. Then he explained himself.
“Not Marvel’s Avengers. The real-life ones. The Key West Avengers.”
“Still not following,” Ange said.
Pete cleared his throat. “You see, in January of 1861, representatives from across Florida met in Tallahassee to vote on whether the state would remain with the Union or secede. The vote was made for Florida to quit the United States, and the Ordinance of Secession was signed. News traveled slowly back then, taking two days to reach Key West by schooner and sloop. This is when things got tricky for the southernmost city.”
Pete paused, scratching his chin.
“You see, US Army Captain John Brannan quickly grasped the significance of the situation. He and his men were all of a sudden thick in enemy territory. So what did this captain do? The boldest thing you can think of, that’s what. With neither an order nor even a vague instruction from the north, Brannan took the initiative, rounding up his men in the dead of night and secretly marching his force around Key West to Fort Zachary Taylor. The captain and his forty or so soldiers barricaded themselves in the fort with a hoard of weapons, ammunition, and enough supplies to last for four months. The next morning, Key Westers awoke to find that their town was now under the control of the US Army. With one quick act, Brannan ensured that the strategic port remained under Union control.”
We listened intently. I’d known that Key West had remained under Northern control during the Civil War but hadn’t heard the specifics of how.
“But what does this have to do with these Avengers Jack mentioned?” Ange said. “And what does all of this have to do with the belt buckle and the murder of Harper’s uncle?”
Pete took a sip from the glass of rum resting on his desk. “Jack, you care to take it away?”
“Well,” Jack started, “Brannan and his men taking control of the city rubbed a lot of people in the islands the wrong way. In fact, there’s crazy stories about pro-secession islanders stirring up trouble for the Union occupants. One guy even got arrested for hoisting a secession flag over his shop. Tensions were high. And when a group of locals wanted to leave and join up with the Confederates, the new Union officer in control wouldn’t let them. Only those who swore allegiance to the Union could quit the island.
“So a group of Key Westers,
