Free A Spirited Gift by Joyce Lavene Page B

area—killing people for sport, stripping merchant ships bare and lighting them on fire—sometimes with the travelers still aboard.
    His eyes looked cold and evil as I stared into them. I got an odd feeling that he was judging me too, even thought I saw his lips quirk slightly. I took a step back.
    â€œEasy there, Mayor!” Mark Samson, owner of the Rib Shack, caught me as I walked into him. “Old Rafe give you a scare, did he?”
    He laughed, of course. So did I, but I also continued my progress out the door and into the backyard. The storm had spooked me—the storm and the séance—not to mention finding Sandi’s dead body. I felt weird because the last twenty-four hours had been very weird.
    Mark had followed me outside. “You know, they say old Rafe had settled down before they trapped him and hanged him. They say he had a wife and a family and that he had given up being a pirate.”
    â€œMaybe so,” I said, not wanting to be rude but needing to get away. “But he must not have changed too much or they wouldn’t have been able to trap him. Thanks for your help. See you later.”
    But there didn’t seem to be any way to get out of the situation. I needed a shower and a nap—maybe a good, stiff mocha or something stronger. Everything made me jumpy. Nothing felt normal.
    I was glad to see Chief Michaels’s patrol car in the drive outside the Blue Whale. I walked a little faster, knowing he would have some resolution to our problems. The whole thing with Matthew weighed heavily on me. I wanted someone else to make a judgment on the strange circumstances and take control of the situation.
    And he’d done exactly that. As I walked in, Officer Tim Mabry was walking out with Matthew in handcuffs. Tim nodded to me but didn’t speak. When there were handcuffs involved, he was always focused. He didn’t have an opportunity to use them that often. I was glad Chief Michaels wanted to keep an eye on Sandi’s assistant.
    He wanted to talk to me too. “If you don’t mind, Mayor,” he said. “I’d like to hear what you have to say.”
    â€œThere’s no one in the kitchen,” Kevin told him.
    â€œThat sounds fine. Thanks. After you, ma’am.” The chief held the door for me.
    I hoped, as I repeated my account of the previous night’s events, that this time would be the last I’d have to say it. I also hoped the retelling would somehow make me feel better—less guilty for not noticing sooner that Sandi was gone. I felt like it was my job as the hostess of the group to make sure none of my guests were injured or killed.
    Chief Michaels nodded as I spoke. He wrote what I said in his little notebook.
    I’d known him all of my life. He was good friends with Gramps, who was the former sheriff. They’d worked together for many years. Gramps had recommended Chief Michaels for the job of Duck police chief. But unlike Gramps, who’d always been casual and laid-back, Chief Michaels was like an old drill sergeant with his graying flattop and perfectly pressed uniform. Even having been out after the storm doing cleanup, he wasn’t dirty. His usually shiny black patent leather shoes were a little scuffed and sandy. Maybe he’d gone home and changed before he came here.
    â€œI hear you telling me the everyday things,” he said. “Now what about the not-so-normal things? I know you, Dae. Anything unusual—anything you picked up with your gift?”
    Chief Michaels, like so many other residents of Duck, took my gifts for granted, most of the time. Once in a while, I went beyond the edge of what his good sense told him was possible. But his Banker roots made him pay attention to the unusual.
    Since I still had custody of the ruby ring and the broken key chain, I laid them both on the table between us. Marissa gave the chief the key I’d found earlier that was for