Agnes looked almost as baffled as Celia, who was on the floor, crying. I pointed to the freezer door. “The gold is in there. Take it and get out of here.”
“Smart place to hide it. Let’s take a look.” Brad went to the freezer door, leaving me behind in his eager anticipation. He picked up a crowbar that was close at hand and pried off the lock Kevin had put on the door. “Whiskey barrels! Now that is fitting!”
He was partially in the freezer, staring straight ahead as he walked toward the barrels. I remembered what Kevin had said about the lure of gold. It was now or never.
I ran to the door and slammed it shut with Brad inside. At the same instant, a dozen or so SBI agents came out of nowhere with their guns drawn. Chief Michaels led his team of Duck police officers in from the back door.
Agnes and Vicky had joined Celia on the floor—all three were crying. I leaned against the side of the freezer when I saw Kevin running back from the kitchen. It was over. Everything was going to be okay.
It was a sunny, warm day two months later as a large crowd gathered at Elizabeth Simpson’s house. Today was the dedication of the Duck Historical Museum. I was wearing a new blue dress with a matching hat. This was a different look for me, but I felt like I’d grown into it over the winter. I felt more mature, more certain about where I was going and what I was doing. I wasn’t sure why a hat represented that, but it seemed the right accessory to wear. I was giving the dedication speech and a surprise to a couple of Duck heroes. The day sparkled around me as I caught sight of Kevin coming my way.
The Rescue at the Blue Whale, as the event had come to be known, was a simple enough feat. It could all be blamed on the Duck grapevine and the fact that everyone knew what everyone else was doing.
Trudy didn’t see Brad’s gun that day on the boardwalk when I was sure my life was over. Instead, she thought I was going out with him and two-timing Kevin. She called Shayla to tell her I was snuggling up with Brad. Shayla called Kevin to tell him I was cheating on him.
Nancy called Chief Michaels when she saw me with Brad. She told him she’d seen something suspicious, maybe a gun, worried that Brad had gone off the deep end with his need to blame me for everything that had happened.
Kevin had called Chief Michaels and, together, they’d decided something was definitely wrong. The police convinced Agent Walker to join the party, and the rest was the Rescue at the Blue Whale.
Thank God for nosy neighbors! If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be here to dedicate the museum on this fine day, looking my best and smiling bright enough to outshine the sun.
Brad Spitzer Whitley had been indicted for murder, arson and firing a weapon of mass destruction—the cannon. He admitted that he got Max to wait for him in the museum with the promise of his DNA matching Theodosia Burr’s. He thought Agnes would be there too after observing what took place when the schoolkids visited the museum. He primed his cannon hidden in the scrub trees near the museum, took aim and fired.
He was in prison awaiting trial, but I didn’t think we’d hear from him again in our lifetimes. Agent Walker said there were other warrants for him, including a murder warrant for Sam Meacham’s death.
Nothing I said about that could dissuade him. He didn’t believe either my theory that Bunk’s henchman Roger had killed Sam or Bunk’s story that Sam had accidentally drowned. I wasn’t sure if it mattered anyway since Roger was dead. And one more indictment against Brad didn’t really matter.
Then there was the matter of Theodosia Burr Alston. Not as important as solving a murder, maybe, but very important to Duck.
It was going to take time to convince skeptical historians from the rest of the United States, but we were convinced we had all the proof we needed to declare that Theodosia lived and finally died on the Outer Banks. She left behind many descendants and a diary about her life. We’d even gone and visited her grave. There was talk of making it a Duck historical monument.
There was a very nice, anonymous donation given to the historical society, in gold, that had purchased many things needed for the new museum. I knew Bunk was responsible for it, and I wondered if I’d ever see him again. Despite myself, I was glad he was still alive. He could fill in those gaps in our history someday, I reasoned. But the truth was I knew he had more to tell me about my own life.
Agnes and the girls had recovered from their ordeals and managed to find a new home, which meant they’d moved themselves and the gold out of the Blue Whale. They planned to sell off the land their house had stood on and live full-time on a forty-two-foot sailing yacht.
They were at the memorial service full of smiles and tears while they heard at least twenty people tell about their memories of Max. He was buried in the Duck Cemetery with a special monument that was created to look like the old museum.
There was nothing said about Celia’s involvement with Brad. It was mostly too stupid to mention. Celia and Brad got involved during one of his frequent visits to assure her mother that everything was being done in the arson investigation. He was handsome and sympathetic, and at least pretended to be interested in her. There was no way for her to know that he was keeping her close to get information. She was a direct line to everything going on.
If Agnes could forgive her youngest daughter for almost getting her killed, there was no one else to complain. Celia had thought telling Brad about the gold would make her more desirable. In that respect, she’d made the same mistake many of her sisters have made since the beginning of time.
I approached the podium at the appointed time and said what I had to say about Max and how much he was missed. There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd, so I thought I must’ve done a good job. Afterward, I gave special medals of honor to Kevin and Luke Helms for their bravery in saving Agnes’s life. There was a rousing round of applause for our heroes. I was very proud to be dating one of them, especially since it was Kevin.
It was after midnight at the Sailor’s Dream Bar and Grill near the old docks in Duck. I watched a man wearing blue jeans and a torn T-shirt as he closed the door and locked up for the night. He was medium height and build with sandy-colored hair. He dropped a bag in the trash can near the back door, whistling an old rock song as he got in his battered pickup and drove away.
This was as close as I’d let myself get to my father.
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Joyce and Jim Lavene
Peggy Lee Garden Mysteries
PRETTY POISON
FRUIT OF THE POISONED TREE
POISONED PETALS
PERFECT POISON
A CORPSE FOR YEW
Renaissance Faire Mysteries
WICKED WEAVES
GHASTLY GLASS
DEADLY DAGGERS
Missing Pieces Mysteries
A TIMELY VISION
A TOUCH OF GOLD