A Timely Vision

“That was kind of elaborate,” Kevin whispered as we followed the attendant down the long hall from the lobby. “I thought we were going to keep it simple.”

“It’s simple in my mind,” I explained. “We’re Miss Elizabeth’s kids who didn’t know her brother was still alive.”

“Not that we know Silas is her brother yet. He might not be a relation at all.”

We’d reached the sunroom, which was crowded with older folks playing Monopoly and Ping-Pong, and watching TV. A few gentlemen were sitting off to themselves, obviously engaged in a poker game for pennies.

“That’s him over there.” The attendant pointed to a skeleton-thin man hunched over a checkerboard, his blue Sun City T-shirt making a definite statement in the blue room.

We thanked the attendant and went to question our “uncle.”

“Uncle Silas!” I made a show of calling him by name and hugging his wispy body. “I bet you thought everyone had forgotten you!”

Silas looked at me through his thick glasses as though I was a bug under a microscope. “Get out of here! You’re not my niece. I don’t even have a niece. If I did, she’d be a lot older, I can tell you that. Who are you two?”

“I’m Kevin Brickman, sir.” Kevin extended his hand to the old man. “We wanted to ask you a few questions about Elizabeth and Mildred Butler. Can we have a few minutes?”

“Are you the stupid police? I know Lizzie is dead. You can’t con me into anything. I don’t have control of my money anymore, so don’t waste my time.”

Kevin nodded toward the bright orange chairs next to us, and we both sat down. Silas’s checker partner wandered off, leaving us alone to talk. “So you are related to them,” Kevin surmised. “That must’ve been quite a shock to hear your sister was murdered.”

“You’re Bad Butler, aren’t you?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“You must be from Duck. Trust me, honey, not everyone is what they seem.” He sat back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling. “Lizzie and Millie didn’t know I was back. I left Duck a long time ago, thirty years. We had a falling out. I didn’t think they wanted me in their lives anymore.”

“I’m Dae O’Donnell. The mayor of Duck. You came back in time for one of them to die and the other to be charged with her murder,” I said accusingly, though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was accusing him of.

“I came back to the Outer Banks to die, little girl. I only have a few months. Lung cancer.” He coughed long and hard, gasping for air. “I never believed those stupid cigarettes would kill me.”

“What happened? I mean, I read the police report. It said Ronnie Michaels shot you. I’ve seen your grave in Duck Cemetery.”

He grimaced. “Nothing to do with all you nosy busybodies in Duck. Why do you think I had to leave? Nobody can keep anything a secret.”

“Anything like what?” I demanded. “What kind of secret makes a man fake his own death?”

“Never mind me,” he wheezed, picking up an oxygen mask that was close at hand. “What are you doing to help Millie? You want to snoop around? Do something for her! She needs you. I don’t. She shouldn’t go to jail for what happened. She’d never hurt Lizzie.”

“We’re trying to help her,” I assured him. “I could probably arrange for you to see her, if you like.”

He pounded on his legs. “These things are useless now. I don’t get out much. Besides, she’s better off without me. Always has been.”

“Was Chief Michaels involved in faking your death?” I asked.

“Go away! Leave me alone. I’m dying already. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“You left Duck at the same time Wild Johnny Simpson was killed.” Kevin squeezed in one more shot. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

“Did I?” Silas squinted up at him through his thick glasses. “If I did, I don’t remember. Maybe you should ask his ghost. You people still believe in ghosts, don’t you? Good-bye, young man.”

An attendant came to help Silas as he started coughing again. It was our signal to leave. The only question we had answered was that this was indeed Bad Butler.

Kevin and I walked out of the sunroom together. I was filled with too many questions. It was like eating too much at Thanksgiving—I was about to pop. There was a steady stream of visitors coming and going as we started down the hall. I recognized one of them and pulled Kevin to the side. “Chief Michaels!” I hissed as I turned us both around so the chief wouldn’t see us.

We were still visible in the narrow space until Kevin put both his arms around me and hugged me close. “Stand still,” he whispered so that his voice tickled my ear.

I stood there, not moving, knowing why it was happening, telling myself it didn’t really mean anything.

He smelled good. Kind of like ocean air and paint thinner. I could imagine dancing with him under the stars on the beach. I could imagine talking with him all night and helping him look for treasure at the Blue Whale.