A Watery Death (A Missing Pieces Mystery Book 7) (7 page)

Steve shook my hand too. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. But very late. The town council decided to hold a meeting tonight, even though our festivities are tomorrow. We’ll get through it, but I really have to go.”

“Let us walk with you to town hall,” Steve suggested. “I don’t see anyone naked out here right now, but he might be lurking somewhere waiting to catch you alone again.”

“That’s a good idea,” Peggy agreed. “Steve is with the FBI, but I promise not to let him get in his investigative mood. We’re on vacation, after all.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your concern. Town hall is just right this way. Don’t feel as though you have to stay for the meeting. It’s boring for me most of the time, and I live here.”

Peggy and Steve laughed, and we walked quickly through the rest of the parking lot.

“Shakespeare is a very well-trained dog,” I told Peggy. “Is that what you do, train dogs?”

Steve laughed from behind us.

“Ignore him.” Peggy gave him a dirty look. “Shakespeare has his moments. But no, I own a garden shop in Charlotte and I’m a part-time forensic botanist on the side.”

“That’s great. We have something in common. Actually we have two things in common—my fiancé is a former FBI agent, and I own a thrift store on the boardwalk. You’ll have to come visit me.”

“I’d love that. What’s the shop’s name?”

“Missing Pieces.” I explained about my gift for finding lost things, and how I’d come to open the shop.

“Amazing,” Peggy said. “I’d like to see you find something for someone.”

I felt strange, as though I were bragging about my gift. I was saved from feeling even weirder because we’d reached the door to the room where town hall meetings were held.

To my surprise, Mary Catherine was anxiously waiting for me.

“Are you all right?” She looked at my dirty dress. “Did you decide to work in the garden on the way?”

“I don’t have time to explain now.” I glanced at my watch. It was six fifty-five. Nancy Boidyn, our town clerk, was standing by my seat on the dais waving papers at me. “I have to go. It was so nice of you to walk with me. I hope we see each other again, Peggy.”

Mary Catherine was touching the Great Dane and smiling at him like he was an old friend. “Is that who I think it is? Shakespeare? You’re the dog that was afraid of ghosts in your new house after you were rescued.”

Peggy shook her head. “Mary Catherine Roberts? You’re the pet psychic. You helped me with him years ago. I always wanted to thank you but didn’t know where you’d gone.”

I left them shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. It appeared that they’d met before. I wanted to stay, but the meeting had to come first. It was a packed house, as always. Our usual problem residents were right up front with their questions and suggestions. It was going to be a long night.

“You made it just in time.” Chris Slayton handed me a pile of papers.

“What in the world happened to you?” Nancy tried to brush some of the trash off my back side where I’d fallen in the parking lot. There was no good way to take care of the problem.

“I’ll tell you later.” I took my seat behind the large, horseshoe-shaped meeting table.

“Lucky you get to sit back there.” Nancy went to her desk where she recorded the meetings to be transcribed later for the archives.

“I know. How does my face and hair look?”

“You look great.” Chris assured me with a smile.

“Thanks.” I hadn’t meant to address the question to him, but that was okay.

I put on the last bit of pink lipstick that had stayed in my pocket through everything and faced the audience as I used my gavel to call the meeting to order.

We were going through the notes from the last meeting when Sheriff Riley, Gramps, Chief Michaels, and Kevin walked into the room. One of Sheriff Riley’s deputies had saved seats for them close to the front.

Chief Michaels nodded to me, which was his way of saying that he wanted to speak at a different part of the meeting than his usual police report. I nodded back in acknowledgement as Nancy finished reading the minutes.

“The minutes have been heard,” I said. “Do I have a vote to approve them?”

“Aye,” Rick Treyburn, Dab Efird, Cody Baucum, and Cailey Fargo all replied to the question.

“I’m Mayor Dae O’Donnell, and it’s my pleasure to welcome all of you to our monthly Duck town council meeting.” I smiled at the crowd before me, not happy to see Mad Dog Wilson and his friends. Next to them was our town crank, Martha Segall, who could always find something to complain about.

“Proceed with old business, Mr. Slayton,” I said to Chris.

“Thank you, Mayor O’Donnell. At this time, because of the recent tragedy, I yield the floor to our police chief, Ronnie Michaels.”

“I’d like to extend my condolences to the family of Captain Bill Lucky,” Cody squeezed in.

The other council members agreed.

Chief Michaels took the floor. He looked tired and more than a little upset by what had happened that day.

“I’d like to tell you that we have good news about Captain Lucky’s killer, but we’re still not sure what happened to him. The investigation will continue until we have answers.”

“People in Duck don’t feel safe here anymore.” Martha spoke out of turn. “I have a petition signed by more than three thousand people who testify to that fact.”

“Martha, there are only five hundred and eighty-six residents who would be eligible to sign that kind of petition,” Cailey told her. “The rest of those people don’t live here.”

“Maybe not.” Mad Dog championed her cause, heaving his large form out of his chair. “But it’s not good for business if people are afraid.”

Cody shook his head and covered his microphone with his hand to whisper something to Rick.

“We’re doing the best we can,” Chief Michaels told him. “A murder investigation takes time if it’s done right.”

“Just let Dae put her hands on the dead man, and we’ll all know what happened,” Mrs. Euly Stanley, an elderly Duck resident, remarked from the audience. “No investigation needed.”

My face got hot and probably red when many people who weren’t from Duck turned to stare at me. I banged my gavel once for order. “This discussion belongs in public comment, ladies and gentlemen. Right now, Mr. Slayton has yielded the floor to Chief Michaels.”

Mad Dog sat down with a disgusted grunt. Martha patted his hand.

“There’s not really much more to say, Mayor,” Chief Michaels reiterated. “The circumstances of the death on the ship are mysterious. Sheriff Riley will be here helping me figure them out. I’m sure the town will issue a press release if there is a breakthrough. Thank you for your time.”

Chris Slayton took the floor again to proceed with old business. His report on the continuing project to build more ramps, and even an overpass for walkers to cross Duck Road, was thorough. The town had received a grant from the state for the project, which was entering its final phase.

“Work is also proceeding on the new fishing pier,” Chris said. “We hope to have that completed by September.”

“Are there any questions for Mr. Slayton from the council?” I asked.

“I have a question,” Mad Dog shouted. “If we can build all these ramps and piers, why do we need that gambling ship? We’ve got plenty of tax revenue from the beach houses and businesses. I used to be on the council, you know. I know how much money we take in every year, and how much we put out. Get rid of that damn nuisance.”

“Here, here!” Martha joined him.

“That ship has brought in more problems than answers,” Mac Sweeney, my next door neighbor, joined the fray. “I agree with Mad Dog. I can hardly even get into the laundromat to wash my clothes.”

“You’re just complaining to hear yourself complain.” Carter Hatley, from the skeet ball and video game arcade, Game World, got to his feet. “The Andalusia has been good for business, even in the off season.”

“I agree with Carter.” Mark Samson, who owned the Rib Shack, stood. 

I used my gavel again to bring order to the always opinionated crowd.

“We haven’t reached the public comment part of the meeting yet,” I told everyone. “You’ll all get your chance to speak. But for now, the next person who speaks out of turn will be asked to leave the meeting.”

That had never happened at a Duck town meeting, but there was always a first time. Our meetings tended to be raucous. There weren’t many of us who lived here as permanent residents, but we all had something to say. That was good—the way democracy was supposed to work. Just sometimes it got out of hand.

“That’s all I have for old business,” Chris said. “Shall we move on to new business?”

“Yes, please, Mr. Slayton,” I encouraged. “Public comment will be after new business, for those of you who have forgotten how we hold our meetings.”

Mad Dog glared at me. He knew I was talking to him after his reference to having been on the council for many years. I didn’t care. He knew how this was supposed to happen.

“We don’t have much in new business, Mayor O’Donnell,” Chris said. “The gambling ship has been bringing in record profits for our businesses. In June, we had full occupancy of our bed and breakfast facilities as well as our vacation rental units. There is some talk of a hotel chain coming to ask about building a multi-room facility. I’m not at liberty to disclose negotiations as yet, but we should hear something about that soon.”

“That’s it!” Mad Dog lumbered to his feet again, his face red and angry. “Isn’t this why we incorporated in the first place? We can’t allow some big company to come in here and ruin Duck.”

Chief Michaels shot to his feet in the back of the room. “For the love of God, Randal, sit down and shut up. We have enough real problems without you causing more.”

It was so uncharacteristic of Chief Michaels to speak that way—the room grew instantly silent. He gazed at all his friends and neighbors and then started to speak again. His face turned a ghastly shade of gray and he gripped his chest with his hands.

As we all watched, Chief Michaels collapsed on the council room floor.

“Somebody call an ambulance!” Carter Hatley yelled.

Chapter Six

It took thirty minutes for an ambulance to reach us from Kill Devil Hills.

In the meantime, Kevin went to get Dr. Clark who was still at the ship waiting for a morgue pickup. They got back faster than I imagined possible while Sheriff Riley and Tim did CPR on Chief Michaels.

Dr. Clark stabilized Chief Michaels as Chris and Nancy moved people out of the meeting room. Even Mad Dog and Martha were quiet during that time.

I stayed in the room with Chief Michaels’s wife, Marjory, and his sister, Ladonna. We held hands as the paramedics arrived to take him to the hospital.

“I should go with him,” Marjory said.

“We’ll be right behind you,” I promised. “I’ll bring Ladonna with me.”

There were several vehicles following the ambulance to the hospital, including two police cars escorting it to make sure traffic stayed out of the way. We didn’t stop for red lights, although several cars honked their horns as we went by.

At the hospital, the waiting room was full of Duck residents, anxious for word of Chief Michaels.

Kevin brought coffee from the Blue Whale in large urns. We were all grateful for the hot beverage. There was nothing to be done about the uncomfortable, hard plastic chairs, although Chris Slayton managed to fall asleep in one. Everyone else sat and stared at each other or at the TV on the wall.

At ten p.m., Cailey Fargo called me in to a small family meeting room where Rick Treyburn and Dab Efird were already seated. Cody Baucum came in right after. Nancy was there with a pen and paper. I knew what this was about.

“I know it’s sudden,” Cailey said, “but we have to consider what to do about an immediate replacement for Chief Michaels.”

“Replacement?” The word sounded torn from Dab’s throat. He and Chief Michaels were very close. “We don’t know how bad this is. We don’t have to replace the man already.”

Cailey shook her head. “I don’t mean a permanent replacement, but we’re shorthanded enough for the busy season. We need someone to temporarily take up the reins of the police department. When Ronnie is ready to come back, that’s fine. We just can’t risk any more chaos in the middle of a murder investigation and twenty-thousand people in the streets for the Fourth of July.”

We all agreed, though no one was happy about the situation.

“Do you have someone in mind?” Cody asked.

“Yes. I already took the liberty of speaking with him before I brought his name up.”

Rick nodded. “Horace O’Donnell, right? Nobody knows this town like he does, and he has the benefit of having been sheriff.”

Maybe that had immediately occurred to Rick and Cailey, but not to me.

“Surely it would be better to promote Tim Mabry to take the chief’s place and hire one or two part-time officers,” I suggested. “Tim has been with the police department since it started.”

I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Gramps taking on that responsibility, especially with the murder investigation and all the tourists.

“Tim is a good man,” Cailey said. “But he just doesn’t have the maturity to handle this.”

“Agreed,” Cody said. “Though I think Dae is right about creating a few more full-time officers at least until we get through this crisis.”

“But Gramps is too old for this,” I argued. “I don’t know if it will be too much of a strain for him.” I was completely rattled by my grandfather agreeing so quickly to take Chief Michaels’s place, even if it was only for a few weeks.

“Horace is the same age as Chief Michaels,” Cailey said.

“And Chief Michaels just had a heart attack,” I reminded her.

But in the end, the police chief in Duck is appointed by the town council. I did my duty as mayor and called for a vote on the matter, hoping there would be a tie that I would have to break. I’d vote against Gramps being police chief and suggest again that Tim should take Chief Michaels’s place.

There was no tie. All four council members quietly spoke their votes to bring in Gramps as interim police chief. As soon as the vote was over, Cailey brought Gramps into the room, and the four council members shook his hand and thanked him for his service.