“I just finished making dinner,” Gramps said. “You’ll stay, won’t you? There’s plenty. Dae eats like a bird, and I can only pack away so much now that I’m older. When I was younger, I could eat a whole swordfish by myself! But those days are past me now.”
I could see the uncomfortable, disappointed look on Shayla’s face as Kevin took Gramps up on his offer and the two of them went into the kitchen. “What’s wrong with men anyway?” she whispered. “Why don’t they ever know when to leave a thing alone?”
“I can’t believe you think Kevin is that interesting.”
She smiled, catlike. “I can’t believe you don’t.”
During our dinner of fried rice, cornbread and garden tomatoes, the conversation turned to Miss Elizabeth’s death, as had all conversations over the last few days. We sat around the scrubbed wood table and tried to imagine what had happened.
“I think she was robbed,” Gramps said. “She was an old busybody, that’s for sure. And she loved to go out walking. How many times did someone have to end up taking her home? But she always had her purse with her. She wouldn’t leave without it. No one can find it now.”
“It could’ve gotten lost in the sand,” Shayla added, playing with her food. No doubt wishing she was at a dark table at the Curbside with Kevin. “There was a storm, you know. Maybe it was swept out to sea.”
“Or you could be right.” Kevin glanced at Gramps. “She could’ve been robbed. Maybe she put up a fight and got hurt. It wouldn’t take much to kill a woman that age.”
“We have a few break-ins every now and again. We even had a robbery last year at the convenience store. But I have a hard time with the idea that someone murdered Miss Elizabeth.” I said my piece, then sat back from the table. Food didn’t taste so good when you were talking about murder.
“Maybe you could touch something she was wearing and tell us all what happened,” Shayla suggested.
I stared at her—if only looks could kill—and finally said, “No.”
“Could you do that?” Kevin asked.
“I can’t form images from things,” I explained, softening my tone a little. “I have to touch the person.”
“Maybe you could touch Miss Elizabeth,” Shayla continued. “Maybe you could pick up a vibe that way.”
“I’ve already touched her. I didn’t see anything.” I felt a little uncomfortable defending myself, but I went on. “I’ve thought about this again and again since finding Miss Elizabeth. But I get nothing. No image. Nothing.”
“It’s probably because Lizzie isn’t able to form a picture in her mind.” Gramps started clearing the table. “I think Dae’s ability has always been like her grandmother’s. She could only see a picture of something a person visualized in their mind.”
“What about Dae finding all that junk she puts in her shop? She can find that without touching anyone.” Shayla sounded as though she was daring me to deny it.
“That’s different. I can find odds and ends by myself. But I have to touch someone to find things they’ve lost. I don’t see them getting married, giving birth, or dying. I wouldn’t want to even if I could.” Why was she being so antagonistic? I knew she liked Kevin, but this was ridiculous.
“I’m sure Kevin is right, and we’ll all know what happened shortly.” Gramps brought that part of the conversation to an end. “I’ve got a little pecan pie left in the fridge. Anybody up for dessert?”
He took Kevin out on the porch that overlooked Currituck Sound while Shayla and I got out plates and forks. “What’s wrong with you tonight, Dae?” she demanded. “I know all of this has been stressful, but there’s no reason to look at me like you’d like to strangle me.”
“I wasn’t looking at you like that.” I sliced the pie in four even pieces. “I wasn’t looking any way at all. What about you? I felt like the accused at the Salem witch trials!”
“It’s Kevin, isn’t it? If you have a thing for him, you should tell me.”
“I don’t have a thing for him. I just met him.” I glanced toward the back porch. “If you want him, you can have him.”
She giggled. “Maybe you should have a thing for him. You know we don’t have that many good-looking, single men who live here year-round. And no one wants more than a one-nighter with a tourist.”
“It’s not like that.” I licked my finger after putting pie on all the plates. Gramps has won ribbons for his pecan pie at the county fair. It’s the best. “He talked to Gramps before he met me.”
She looked around me as she picked up two plates. “So he knew all about the psychic thing. Was he weird about it?”
“No. Not really. It’s why he was with me when I found Miss Elizabeth. I was glad he was there. He asked me to help him find a missing key. That’s it.”
“You’re sure he didn’t want to hold hands with you? It might be his idea of a good pickup line given how you find things.”
“It didn’t seem that way to me.”
She nudged me with her elbow as she walked by. “Then it’s every girl for herself. As the pirates used to say, no quarter.”
I laughed as she walked toward the back porch, picturing the two of us sword fighting over a captive Kevin. For some reason, that reminded me of the piece of metal I’d picked up on the street. I told her I’d be out in a minute and took it out of my pocket.
It was old, an award of some kind. I could barely make out the name . . . Amanda. The shield shape was clear. It had a date on it, 1964. It seemed to be made of gold. It looked like the lapel pins people wear on blazers, but there was no pin on the back.
A knock on the front door interrupted my examination of the pin. I put the medal back in my pocket, left the two slices of pie on the kitchen table and went to answer it. It wasn’t unusual for Duck residents to come up to the house when there were problems. I hoped whatever it was would be easily resolved. But the man at the door was a stranger. “Can I help you?”
“I saw your house, and I was wondering if you’d ever thought about selling.” He smiled broadly, showing big, even white teeth. His brown hair was carefully tousled, and his handsome face shone with a sprayed-on tan. Definitely not a resident.
“No. Thanks anyway. We like it here.”
“I could offer you some good money for it. Land is scarce out here, as I’m sure you know. It goes for a premium. I have some wealthy buyers looking for places all the time. I could get you at least two million for this house and land. Just imagine what you could do with that kind of cash!”
“Buy another house because I’d be living in the street?” I started to move back from the doorway. “I’m not interested. Thanks anyway.”
“Wait!” He put one large, pudgy hand on mine. “Let’s not be hasty! I have some information here about my real estate firm. Let me leave it with you along with my business card, which includes my 24/7 cell phone number. You can call me day or night if you change your mind.”
The contact from his restraining hand felt odd, but the vision it brought was very clear. I had something that belonged to him. He’d been thinking about it enough that it was in the forefront of his mind even as he tried to get me to sell the house. “You can’t have my house”—I glanced at his card—“Mr. Sparks, but I do have something that belongs to you. Please come inside.”
Chapter 5
A grin spread across Sparks’s face. “I’d love to, ma’am. Please call me Chuck.”
“Okay, Chuck. I’m Dae O’Donnell.” His obvious eagerness made me uncomfortable. “I meant what I said. You can’t have the house. But I found something I think you’ve been looking for. Would you like some iced tea with your pie?”