A Timely Vision

Shayla made up for her disappointment by sitting between Kevin and Tim on the brocade sofa, leaving me to make the coffee and haul out the chair from behind the counter for myself. By that time, Tim had already told the story about Miss Elizabeth and Wild Johnny Simpson. I poured four cups of coffee and put cream and sugar on the table. It was almost anticlimactic for me to sit down.

“Wow! What a story!” Shayla laughed and rolled her eyes. “Do you think Miss Elizabeth or Miss Mildred killed Johnny and left him up there at the Blue Whale?”

Tim shrugged. “I guess it could’ve been either one of them if they did it with that little gun. Anybody could handle that.”

“First, one of them would have to have some connection with the owner,” Kevin said.

“If it’s only been thirty years,” I reminded them, “Johnny’s death happened well after the sisters fought over him. I can’t imagine either one of them going up there and killing him.”

“I don’t know,” Tim said. “Those two always had that between them. If Miss Mildred knew Johnny was here, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Shayla put down her cup and yawned. “As interesting as all of this is, I have to go. I have a bikini wax at seven thirty. I’d hate to mess that up.”

Tim offered to take her home. “I’ve got the car out front. I have to go past your place anyway.”

“Okay.” Shayla glanced at Kevin, no doubt to see if he had any reaction to Tim’s proposal. “I guess I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“I could take you too, Kevin,” Tim offered as an afterthought.

“No, that’s okay. I’d rather walk. See you later, Shayla.”

Shayla’s disappointment was written on her pretty face. “Yeah. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Kevin showed no sign of remorse at letting her go with Tim.

As Tim and Shayla called out their good-nights, I carried the coffee cups over to the small sink in the back of the shop and began washing them out. Kevin brought the coffeepot over to me. I thanked him, and then my mind immediately leapt to small talk. “I think the Blue Whale will be nice when you finish it.”

“Thanks. I won’t be able to do much until they get done with the investigation. It’s hard to believe that guy was up there all that time and nobody knew.”

“Except the killer.” I took the coffeepot from him.

“That’s true,” he agreed.

“I can’t believe there are two deaths being investigated in Duck at the same time. It will be on everybody’s blog and the topic of conversation for years. That’s the way we are.”

“I like it. I like Duck. I’m sorry I didn’t retire years ago.” He glanced around Missing Pieces. “Can I walk you home?”

“No. That’s okay. I might hang around a while and do some straightening up.” I was lying, of course. I could hardly keep my eyes open. All I wanted to do was lie down and not get up until morning. But I needed him for the interview with Agent Walker, and it didn’t seem right to impose on him anymore. We didn’t know each other that well. “Good night, Kevin. I’m glad we found your key, even if it did lead to something terrible.”

He smiled. “It was good that we found him. Someone probably misses him. I guess you are good at finding lost things. Good night, Dae.”

I locked the door behind him, stuck my hand in my pocket and remembered the key I’d found on the stairs. It was too late to call him back. I’d have to give it to him later. I took it out and looked at it again in the light. I was right about the size and shape of it. Someone had probably dropped it years ago before the Blue Whale was closed. I knew from the way I’d felt when I picked it up that the key was important. But right now I was tired and couldn’t think about it anymore. I opened the cash register and stashed the key inside.

It had been a very eventful day, too eventful. I still hadn’t recovered from finding Miss Elizabeth. I didn’t need the added anxiety of finding another dead person. I turned out the lights and sat down on the old brocade sofa.

I wondered what Johnny Simpson had been doing back in Duck after all those years. Had anyone known he was here? Obviously, someone knew. It was likely that person was the one who’d killed him. Could it have been one of the sisters?

I pulled my feet up on the sofa and closed my eyes. Shayla might feel that ghosts weren’t important, but they were more important to me than a lot of the tangible things that went on every day. I believed in the afterlife. I’d grown up on stories of ghostly visitations that predicted storms and of spectral lights that led people to safety during pirate raids.

There was one ghost in particular I wanted to see. My mother had died in a car accident as she was crossing the bridge to the mainland thirteen years ago. I was a rebellious twenty-three-year-old at the time who’d wanted to camp out on the beach with a group of hard-drinking bikers.

We’d argued fiercely about it, the end result being one of those not-while-you-live-under-my-roof kind of things. I promised to move out as quickly as possible. She didn’t back down.