A Timely Vision

“You and your grandfather have a great relationship,” Kevin said as he opened the truck door. “It must be fantastic having someone like that in your life.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do without him,” I replied. “He’s always been there for me. Even when he was the sheriff, he always found time for me.”

Kevin started the truck and headed down Duck Road toward Southern Shores. “You know, Dae, I’m all for a good investigation, but you should be prepared in case that’s all this is. Your friend might be guilty, no matter how much you want her to be innocent.”

“I know,” I said as the first fat raindrop hit the windshield.

The Duck Museum of History was a plain little building that had been donated to the Duck Historical Society a few years back. It was actually an old store that had once sold gas, chips, Pepsis and sunglasses. Max Caudle was the museum director. He’d held that position since I was in school, probably because no one else wanted it.

Outside the blue, three-room building, a large statue of a duck stood beside a statue of a horse. The display also included two rusted cannons legend said had washed up on Duck’s shore back in the 1700s. Several cannonballs were stuck in concrete around them.

Inside, the old museum was cool and musty smelling. The light was too dim to really see everything the historical society had managed to piece together down through the years. I was proud of this little place anyway. It represented the heritage of everyone who had been born here. From pirates to wild horses, all of it was part of our past.

“Mayor O’Donnell!” Max greeted us at the door. “It’s so good to see you.”

Max was a short, stout man with curly brown hair and ruddy skin. He always looked as though he’d been out in the sun too long, despite the bookish quality the glasses perched on the end of his nose gave him. His face matched his always-present red suspenders. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him wear anything except sandals on his feet.

“Please, Max, call me Dae. Otherwise I have to start calling you Mr. Caudle again like when I was in school.” I smiled at him, then turned to Kevin. “This is Kevin Brickman. He’s new to Duck.”

“That’s right.” Max stepped up to shake Kevin’s hand. “The man who bought the old Blue Whale. Nice to meet you. If you find anything old you don’t want over there, be sure to send it my way.”

Kevin smiled. “I’m looking for Bunk Whitley right now. I was hoping you could help me.”

“Haven’t run across him yet, eh?” Max laughed at his own joke. “I have the old Gazette microfiche in back if you’d like to look through that. It’s kind of funny. We have a lock of Blackbeard’s hair and the masthead from a clipper that went down off the coast in 1809. But I haven’t seen hide nor hair of old Bunk. There’s a lot he could answer for if someone found him.”

Max took us in the back to what had probably been a storeroom at one time. There was a very small table with the microfiche machine on it. Yellowed copies of the Gazette decorated the walls. “Let me get you another chair,” he offered. “We don’t usually have so many people in here at one time!”

Kevin sat down at the machine, and I took the side chair. Max went to find cold tea and maybe a leftover cookie or two. His wife, Agnes, ran the Beach Bakery and was always generous with samples.

I sat there and watched as the old pages flipped by on the screen. They were hard to read in some places. I squinted to recognize an old photo of Gramps taken after he’d caught a thief who’d held up stores in several Outer Banks towns.

“Pay dirt,” Kevin said after about twenty minutes. “Look at this. I think we found old Bunk.”

It was Bunk Whitley. At least the caption under the picture said so. I wouldn’t have recognized him from some of the other pictures I’d seen of him. In this photo, he looked to be in his late twenties. Two beautiful young women in bathing suits were standing on either side of him. I squinted at the writing and read out loud, “Bunk Whitley, owner of the Blue Whale Inn, had a difficult choice to make for the crown of Miss Duck. Pictured with him are Miss Elizabeth Butler (left) and Miss Mildred Butler, both of Duck. Miss Elizabeth Butler won the crown of Miss Duck.”

Chapter 16

“So Bunk Whitley was the mysterious pageant judge that fateful day in Duck.” I told Kevin the old story that had cost such long-lasting pain between the two sisters.

“Well it sounds like Miss Mildred had something to complain about. Between that and Wild Johnny Simpson, it’s surprising the sisters spoke at all.” He read the rest of the Gazette page on the microfiche. “That’s all that’s here about him.”

Kevin kept moving forward with an eye for articles about Bunk. The newspaper was liberally sprinkled with them. Bunk was a member of every group in town. He attended all of the charity and society events in Duck and was apparently known for being a hearty diner. He seemed to be at the openings of every restaurant in the area.