“You think they like us for the murder?” Shayla asked as she sipped a Coke.
“You watch too much TV.”
“There’s nothing else to do out here in the winter. I’m lucky if I have one or two tarot readings a week. What do you do?”
“I read. Books, not palms or cards. Once in a while, I watch TV or help Gramps work on the boat. Last winter, I painted the house. You know that.”
“Sounds to me like your life is as boring as mine. Without tourists, we’re nothing.”
It was a depressing thought but one I knew many permanent residents (especially those with businesses) agreed with. People talked all the time about ways to bring tourists down to the Outer Banks in the winter. It never quite seemed to happen. I was glad I didn’t make it a campaign promise.
“How long does it take to do this anyway?” Shayla whined.
I heard the squeak of the old elevator. “Sounds like it must be done. Quit slumping over that drink and sit up straight.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Kevin, Tim and Agent Walker entered the bar as we heard the elevator heading back up to the third floor. “Where did you say you found that gun, Brickman?” Agent Walker asked.
“It was behind the old cash register.” Kevin showed him the secret drawer. “I was fooling around and found it.”
I started to speak but managed to catch myself. This might be one time where showing off wasn’t to my advantage. Kevin seemed all right with the idea of me telling the SBI the full truth about finding Miss Elizabeth. Why was he protecting me now?
“We’ll have to keep the gun until ballistics has a look at it.” Agent Walker barely glanced at the secret drawer. “I expect there are plenty of secret passages and places in here. My granddad used to help raid these old hotels regularly during the twenties and thirties. Probably found a still or two out here too.”
“I haven’t done much on the upper floors,” Kevin said. “This is the only secret compartment I’ve found so far.”
Agent Walker nodded, obviously beginning to get bored with the conversation. “Well, it’s a nice place, Brickman. I don’t know why anyone would give up your position with the FBI for this, but to each his own, I always say.”
Shayla and I were apparently not to be questioned by the SBI. Probably because we were with Kevin and Tim when we found the dead person. It probably helped that the person had been dead for a long time. I shuddered, thinking about the skeletal form at the desk.
When Agent Walker had left the bar, Shayla pounced on Kevin. “What happened? Who’s dead now?”
“A man by the name of John Simpson, according to his wallet,” he said. “It looked like he’d been shot once in the back of the head. Whoever did it was secure about leaving his personal possessions with him. All his personal effects were intact.”
Tim frowned. “Why didn’t Agent Walker tell me? You’re not even a real FBI agent anymore.”
“Are you saying that’s Wild Johnny Simpson up there?” I demanded in disbelief. How often is it that you come face-to-face with a legend?
“You mean, you know that guy?” Shayla seemed amazed. Of course, she wasn’t from Duck and hadn’t grown up with all of the stories I’d heard about the two sisters and their lover.
“Not personally,” I explained. “It’s like folklore around here. Everyone knows about Miss Elizabeth and Wild Johnny Simpson.”
“Well, I don’t know about it, and Kevin probably doesn’t either. I think we should go get a drink and discuss it.” Shayla smiled at her date.
“I could make us a drink right here,” he said.
“Please! There’s a dead guy upstairs. It was bad enough that I had to see him. And smell him.” Shayla grabbed her purse. “Let’s get out of here.”
We decided to walk back to Wild Stallions since it would be the only place open this late. Somehow as we walked down the narrow road between the heavy bushes, Shayla ended up in front with Tim, and I found myself in back with Kevin. Except for the sound of the ocean, the night was quiet. Most of the traffic on Duck Road was already gone.
“I hope you don’t mind that I took credit for finding the hidden drawer,” he said.
“I was a little curious about why you did it. You were the one who told me I should be honest with Agent Walker tomorrow.” I corrected myself: “I mean, today.”
“I know. But it’s my place, and I felt like I should take the responsibility. I can correct it, if you want me to.”
“That’s all right. I guess I’ll have enough to talk about with Agent Walker at our interview.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” He glanced around as the steady breeze stirred the bushes near us. “This place has atmosphere, doesn’t it? Even without finding a thirty-year-old corpse in the inn.”
“He wasn’t thirty,” I corrected. “He had to be in his sixties when he was killed. He would’ve been about the same age as the sisters.”
“That’s not what I meant. We’ll have to wait for the ME to know for sure, but I’d be willing to guess he’s been up there since the Blue Whale closed thirty years ago. He was already almost mummified.”
Thankfully, our exit off the side street and onto Duck Road saved me from having to think about that last comment. We switched partners as we crossed the road and headed for the bar.
It had been a long day, beginning with the purse snatching and ending with yet another homicide for Chief Michaels to investigate. I yawned as we went up the stairs to the boardwalk that led to the bar. I wasn’t looking forward to a drink, instead wishing I were home in bed. It was only a few hours until my interview with Agent Walker. I wanted to be awake for it. I’m not much of a night person.
Someone must’ve heard me because Cody, one of Wild Stallions’ owners, was already closing up. “Sorry. I have to close early. My wife is in labor. Rain check?”
“Of course!” I hoped I didn’t sound as relieved as I felt. “Give Sally my love.”
“Thanks, Dae. We’ll let you know how it turns out.”
We seemed to be at a loss for something to do. We were close to Missing Pieces, so I offered to make coffee at the shop. Shayla wasn’t happy about being denied her rum (she seems to be part pirate), but Kevin and Tim were happy to accept.
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.”