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By that time, the new voice had brought everyone in from the back porch. Chuck shook hands with all of them and passed out business cards. “Are one of you gentlemen the owner of this property? I think you’ll find the offer of two million dollars I made Dae to be a real incentive. Do you mind if I take a look around?”

He didn’t wait for actual permission but took our silence as a go-ahead. He investigated the living room first, smiling and nodding when he saw the stone fireplace.

“Who is this man, Dae?” Gramps asked.

“Did he really offer you two million for your house?” Shayla demanded.

“He’s a real estate person,” I explained. “And yes, he offered me that much. Not in writing, but as a throw-out number to get the ball rolling. You know how real estate people are.”

“Why is he in the house instead of in the street?” Gramps wondered.

“I picked something up tonight. It belongs to him. I’m trying to get around to telling him that I know it’s his.”

“Nice half bath down here.” Chuck came out of the hall. “Any closets?”

“Dae,” Gramps warned. “Get a move on telling him.”

“Let’s all sit down for a minute.” I smiled at Chuck. “Tea? Pie?”

He joined us at the table, smiles all around at each of us, as he dug into his pie and slurped his tea. “This place is great! I might be able to go as high as two and a half. What do you think of that?”

Gramps’s face darkened, like a thundercloud ready to burst. I saw a storm coming and decided I’d better step in before he let loose. “Chuck, we really don’t want to sell the house.”

He nodded. “I understand. Things are tough. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. Believe me, I’ve been in that spot.”

“Young man,” Gramps bellowed, “I have no inclination to sell my house to you.”

Chuck’s smile faded. “But you wanted me to come in and eat pie.”

I took out the medal and put it in his hand. “I have something of yours. Something you’ve been looking for.”

“Where did you find this?” Chuck stared at the medal.

“On Duck Road coming back here through town. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I realized it was yours when you came to the door.”

He looked at me as though he’d wandered into an episode of The Twilight Zone. “How did you know?”

“It’s difficult to explain.”

Shayla made an impatient clicking sound with her teeth. “It’s not that difficult. Dae finds things, you know? She’s psychic. She knows who things belong to. Understand?”

Chuck looked even more uncomfortable. “This medal belonged to my mother. It was the first award she ever won after she became a real estate agent. She lost it twenty years ago. No way she dropped it then, and you found it now.”

“I’m glad I met you so I could give it back.” I smiled and hoped it would ease some of his discomfort, but it didn’t help. He pushed back his chair and left his pie half eaten. His eyes were wild. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. He picked up his brochures and let himself out the front door.

“You’re welcome,” Kevin called, an annoyed smile on his face.

“Aren’t you going to call him back?” Shayla demanded. “The next man might not offer you so much. I wonder what my house is worth.”

Conversation lagged after that. The pie was gone and the coffee was cold. It wasn’t long before Shayla convinced Kevin to take her out for that drink. He asked politely if Gramps and I would like to come. Both of us said no, and I waved good-bye to them from the front door.

“They make a nice couple.” Gramps came up behind me and waved too.

“You think so?”

“If you aren’t interested in him, I do. Any chance you might be interested in him?”

“I don’t think so. He’s okay, I guess. For an outsider.”

“I can’t believe you’re so prejudiced, Dae. I know we didn’t raise you to be that way.”

“He might decide to move back to D.C. someday.” I closed the front door and turned off the outside light.

Gramps let out a grunt as he pushed himself back in his recliner. “You know how to ruin an old man’s fun, don’t you?”

I sneaked out of the house early the next morning. Gramps didn’t have a charter, so he’d stayed up late and was sleeping in. It was nice escaping without eating breakfast. He’s kind of a good-breakfast nut. I love him, but sometimes our lives clash a little.

Duck is beautiful early in the morning. It’s the one time the town resembles the way it was when I was growing up. When I was in my twenties, the place went through a kind of growth spurt, like people suddenly discovered Duck was here. Since then, it has to be cold for there to be any peace and quiet. Except in the mornings. Combine that peace and quiet with a good cup of coffee and the morning paper, and I was in heaven. There was always a little town gossip too. I liked that with my coffee.

Some of the other shopkeepers said good morning to me as we passed on the boardwalk overlooking the sound. A few joggers were out, along with some hungry seagulls scavenging for food. I settled on a bench, ready to sip my coffee and enjoy that lazy, satisfying feeling that comes from sitting on the boardwalk, watching people go by.

My mood was shattered when I opened the paper and took a good look at the front page. In broad headlines, Miss Elizabeth’s death became public property. It seemed wrong somehow to share all the intimate details of the tragedy with strangers. How did reporters find out she was wearing that black dress with the little pink hearts?

I half expected to see a picture of her body being carried to the medical examiner’s office. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. The paper ran a much younger shot of her from when she was crowned Miss Duck seventy years ago. I glanced at the caption. The photo was courtesy of the Duck Historical Museum and Max Caudle.

I could tell from the growing heat of the sun and the crowd beginning to build that it was time to open Missing Pieces. But my heart wasn’t in it today. My mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Miss Elizabeth. What had happened to her out there, alone in the dunes? Imagination can be a terrible thing.

I was so caught up in thinking about the tragedy that I completely neglected Chief Michaels’s number-one rule for keeping safe: Be aware. I’d even gone to his safety refresher course over the winter, yet still I wasn’t keeping track of my surroundings.

As I opened the door to the shop, someone brushed by me, knocking me against the side of the building and grabbing my purse at the same time. It took me an instant to realize what had happened. I looked up to see the purse snatcher running down the boardwalk toward the parking lot. “Hey! You can’t do that!”

I couldn’t remember whether the chief had said you were or weren’t supposed to chase someone who took your purse. It was my first thought, though, and before I knew it, my feet were following. I ran after him, taking a shortcut through the midsection of the Duck Shoppes to head him off. I kept yelling, hoping someone might stop him before my lungs exploded. I hadn’t run anywhere for a long time.

The thief was tall and thin, kind of scruffy looking from the back. He looked familiar, and I suddenly realized he was the young man who’d asked me about a job on the Fourth of July. He must’ve been setting me up. And if someone didn’t do something to help me stop him, he was going to get away with my purse.

I yelled again and tried to speed up. He was passing the Coffee House, and I saw him run around the back of the Dumpster on the side. Was he trying to hide or trying to double back to confuse me?