"You know anything about him?" I said.
"He's not from around here, is all I know. That, and the fact he got roasted in your fire pit."
"I heard he's going to be okay," I said.
"I heard the same thing."
"Mayor Bradford-"
"Please," he said. "If we're finally getting to it, you might as well call me Carl."
"Okay then, Carl."
He shifted in his chair. "What can I do for you, Donovan?"
"You can tell me about Libby Vail."
He didn't flinch. I know because I was watching to see if he would. Instead, he smiled and said, "Well, I don't know much more than what you're likely to have heard. Libby was a Liberal Arts major at Penn State," he said. "Her roommate told the police that Libby had planned to come here to research her roots."
"She thought she was descended from pirates."
"Gentleman Jack Hawley," he said.
I nodded. "You folks have a monthly celebration in Libby's honor. People come from all over the world."
"They do," he said.
"It's good for business."
"As it turns out, it is. But that's not the only reason we celebrate Libby's life. We do it to keep her memory alive. The whole town has sort of adopted her."
"I guess most young people want to leave small towns like St. Alban's," I said. "But Libby wanted to come here."
"Well, I don't imagine she was planning to settle down here or anything."
"I didn't get to see the Pirate Parade yesterday," I said, "but I saw the pictures in the paper this morning."
"Sorry you missed it," he said. "It's quite an event."
"I was particularly interested in the picture of the pirate ship float," I said.
"What about it?"
"That's Hawley's ship, right?"
He rubbed his face with his right hand and yawned. "Sorry," he said. "Long weekend, too much grog."
He winked.
I nodded.
"Yeah, they've had that float forever," he said. "It's supposed to be The Fortress, Jack Hawley's ship. Why do you ask?"
"In the news photo, on the bridge of the boat, there's a pretty young woman standing next to the pirate."
Mayor Bradford raised an eyebrow. "She's quite a looker," he said. Then he added, "But so is your Rachel."
"I'm quite happy with Rachel," I said. "What I was wondering about is the significance of the girl on the pirate ship. From what I've read about pirates, they didn't often allow women on board their ships."
For the first time since I'd entered his office, Mayor Bradford's face registered concern. He bit the top corner of his lip. "I don't believe there's any historical significance to it," he said. "I think they're just using the float as an excuse to show off the prettiest girl in Fernandina Beach."
"Really? Because I think it might be more than that."
He cocked his head to one side and squinted at me, and as he did so, his face drew into itself and grew as stern as it could without imploding. "Why don't you just tell me what it is you're reading into that picture from the newspaper."
"I've been doing some online research on Jack Hawley, and there's a story, a legend that supposedly happened exactly three hundred years ago."
Mayor Bradford's eyes darted around the room. He looked beyond me, to the open doorway as if searching for an escape route. "A legend," he said.
"Carl," I said. "Look at me."
He did.
I said, "You've lived here all your life. You have to know what I'm talking about."
He paused a moment before speaking. "If you're referring to Abby Winter saving the town, I think that was just a story from a dime novel written back in the 1800's."
"The story I read didn't say anything about a dime novel. But it's a fascinating story either way."
"Maybe you should re-write it."
"Maybe I will."
We sat there in silence. After a moment Carl clapped his hands and stood. "If that's it, I guess I better get going. I gave Milly the afternoon off and was about to close the office when you came in. I'm meeting the Mayor of Fernandina for a little surf casting." He pulled his bike off the bike hook and leaned it against his desk.
I stood and we shook hands again. I turned and walked to the doorway and paused.
"Was there something else?" he said.
"Yeah."
"What's that?"
"I think Libby Vail believed she was related to Jack Hawley through Abby Winter."
"That's ridiculous," he said.
"Maybe, but it would explain why she wanted to come to St. Alban's to research her lineage."
"It's been done," he blurted. Seeing my expression he realized he'd said more than he meant to. He hastily added, "What I mean is, back when Libby Vail went missing, that old story came out, the one about Abby Winter and Jack Hawley, and they did a whole search of Libby's lineage at the library."
"And?"
"And they couldn't find any connection, or any evidence that those things ever happened. It's just an ancient pirate's tale. Hawley never threatened to destroy the town, and Abby never offered herself up as a sacrifice. Hell, the whole thing's downright silly, if you think about it long enough."
"Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I haven't thought about it long enough."
Something flickered in Carl Bradford's eyes. He wasn't quite angry, but he was getting there. "What's your interest in all this?" he snapped.
"I'm thinking about resurrecting the old legend and turning it into a promotional event for The Seaside guests."
His look of great skepticism changed to a derisive sneer. "I sincerely doubt that," he said, fairly spitting the words.
"And I doubt your account of Abby Winter and Jack Hawley."
His jaw pulsed. Mayor Bradford was getting worked up, so I shrugged the rope off my shoulder and worked it in my hands a minute. He watched me do that, and it seemed to settle him down. He took a deep breath and said, "I told you about the search at the library."
"You did."
"It was quite exhaustive."
"I'm sure it was."
"Then what's your problem?"
"I wouldn't expect the library records to go back that far."
Mayor Bradford looked exasperated. "Then why are you bringing this up?"
"Because I think there's a better place to search for old records."
"You do."
"Uh huh."
"And where might that be?"
"The old churches around town."
He paused a long time before saying, "Any in particular?"
"Maybe I'll start with the one on 8th and A1A."
Chapter 23
I LEFT A very jittery Mayor Bradford and headed across the courtyard, where I expected to find Rachel sitting in our rental car. I circled the entire building, and noticed a dozen empty parking spaces, but couldn't spot Rachel or the car in any of them. I pressed a key on my cell phone. Rachel answered with a whisper. "I can't talk right now."
"Where are you?" I said.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm done with the mayor. Your car's not here."
"I had to run an errand. I'll be there soon."
"An errand?"
"A girly thing. I don't want to talk about it."
"So where are you? And why are you whispering?"
"I'll be there in a few minutes. Find a diner on Main Street near the court house and grab a cup of coffee. I'll catch up with you in a few minutes and we can do the pirate thing together."
Rachel was right in thinking there'd be a diner near the court house. The one I entered a half block away was nearly empty when I got there. That seemed reasonable, since most of the down-town workers would want to be back at their jobs by one o'clock. I checked my watch: 1:35pm. Rachel had said she'd be back "in a few minutes," but she'd invoked the dreaded "girly thing," which meant she was operating on Rachel time.
I picked out a corner booth that overlooked Main Street and pulled a menu from behind the old fashioned sugar shaker. Opening it, my eyes went straight to the Shoo Fly Pie, which, being a pie of Pennsylvania origin, I planned to order in Libby Vail's honor.