Catherine's Cross (4 page)

After school that afternoon, Jenks met with her principal, Dr. Edwin Bishop, and told him about the break-in at her sister's house.

“Jenks, I'm going to allow you personal time and sick leave to go handle what you need to in Beaufort. You've done a fine job with your students and testing is complete for the year.” Dr. Bishop was admired by his teaching staff for his fairness and professionalism, and Jenks accepted his proposal and decided to leave after saying good-bye to her students the next day. She placed a phone call to Detective Mason to inform him of her intentions to come to Beaufort and then went home to her apartment to pack.

When Jenks arrived at her sister's home, yellow police tape was wrapped around the front porch of the cottage and Detective Mason was waiting for her on the porch, sitting in a high-back wicker rocker. He rose from his seat, walked to her car, and opened the door for her. After they exchanged greetings, he led her to the house, lifted the yellow tape so they could cross under, and then opened the front door. The living room of Gigi's house had been turned into chaos. Her bookshelves had been stripped and books lay helter-skelter on the floor. Every drawer had been emptied.

“This is maddening. I can't tell if anything is missing or not,” Jenks said.

“The Bernsteins noted that one thing is missing—your sister's computer.”

“Why would anyone want that?”

“Information.”

“What on earth about?”

“We'll have to try to figure that out.”

“Were you able to find any fingerprints?”

“The area around your sister's computer table was wiped clean. The fingerprints we did find were run through the FBI's national fingerprint identification system, IAFIS. We found Frank Hiller's fingerprints along with David Bernstein's. The database includes active-duty and former military personnel, plus federal government employees. David worked for the Internal Revenue Service, and Frank is a former member of the US Navy. Your sister knew both of these people, so it's normal that their fingerprints would be found in her home.”

“The area around her computer desk was completely wiped clean?”

“Yes—whoever took the computer was smart enough to wipe the surfaces down. There were some other fingerprints, but they are not on record with the FBI.”

Jenks stepped over Gigi's possessions gingerly to get to the fireplace, where she inspected Gigi's bottle collection. Not one of the ancient bottles was missing.

“If the burglar was after something of value, he or she could have started with these,” she said, pointing to the bottles.

Detective Mason did not respond, but looked around the room.

As she made her way back toward the front door, Jenks noticed a picture of herself and Gigi lying on the floor. She picked up the photo and placed it on a table. They both had a copy of the photograph—it was from one of their favorite experiences together—skiing in the mountains of North Carolina two years before. Their mahogany hair was pulled back behind earmuffs. Gigi had her arm around Jenks, and their faces beamed with brilliant smiles. As she looked at the photograph, she felt bitter tears of resentment well in her eyes. This was so unfair.

Tears fell down her cheeks, and Detective Mason was there with a handkerchief. She thanked him for his kindness and then picked up a book that was lying on the floor.

“
Diving into Glory
,” Jenks said, reading the title aloud. “This is about Mel Fisher. I remember that he and his team salvaged the treasure from wrecks of Spanish galleons off the coast of Florida.” Jenks thumbed through the pages. “It says here, when Fisher's team was searching for the shipwrecks, he would say, ‘Today's the day,' at the start of each work day.” She continued to turn the pages. “From these pictures, it looks like they did hit the mother lode.”

“They may have hit the mother lode, but I recall he lost his oldest son when a salvage boat capsized,” Detective Mason said, shaking his head.

“Salvaging treasure is a dangerous business,” Jenks replied as she placed the book back on the shelf.

During this time, a locksmith came to the home and changed the locks. He was a friend of Detective Mason's and had come at his request.

Jenks felt depressed as she continued this arduous task, but the entire time, the detective stayed with her and helped her restore the room to a state of order. After reading about Mel Fisher's treasure discoveries, they spoke sparingly; both seemed to be concentrating on their work. As Jenks picked up the last item from the living room floor, her stomach growled loudly, and the detective looked up and smiled.

“I'm sorry, that was embarrassing,” Jenks said.

“No, not at all . . . it just means you need something to eat. Why don't we take a break, and I'll drive you to my favorite restaurant. I need to deliver lunch to a friend of mine.”

He helped her put on a light jacket, and when they reached his vehicle, he opened the door for her, making sure she was comfortably seated before closing it.

As soon as he started the engine of the police cruiser, the voice of Willie Nelson emanated from the stereo: “Evening summer breeze, warbling of a meadowlark.”

He turned the music off, but Jenks interjected, “No, it's okay. I'd like to hear him. I've always liked Willie Nelson's version of ‘Moonlight in Vermont.'”

He turned the music back on, softer than it had been playing. “I've liked this album since I was a child.”

“Did your parents like the album
Stardust
?”

“My mother did; it was her favorite recording.”

“I see,” she responded. “Do you live out this way on St. Helena?”

“No, I'm house-sitting for good friends, Dr. Leslie Walker and his wife, Sofia. They live on the Chechessee River, which you cross on the way to Hilton Head from Beaufort. Dr. Walker is on a teaching sabbatical, plus researching material for a book he's writing. They're in Florence, Italy, right now.”

Another song started, and Jenks asked, “How did you get to know them?”

He turned and looked at her. “I was one of his students when I went to college, and he and his wife took me under their wing. They're very good friends.”

“Where did you go to college?”

“The University of South Carolina.”

As they drove through Port Royal, they passed by the business owned by Frank Hiller, Hiller's Barbells. The gym was one of the most upscale fitness centers in Beaufort. After retiring from the Navy, he had opened the facility and made his business a success. A For Sale sign was posted on the marquee.

“Frank Hiller's business is for sale,” she said to Detective Mason.

“Yes, I understand he has decided to relocate. I think I heard he was moving to San Diego. There are Marine Corps and Navy SEAL training centers there.”

Willie Nelson sang out the lyrics of a Gershwin standard—“Oh, how I need someone to watch over me”—as they crossed the bridge to St. Helena Island.

When they turned onto Highway 21, Jenks started to see the marshlands, and the smell of pluff mud was in the air. She remembered the beauty of the Low Country and the surroundings and sounds that went with it. They were just a few miles from Hunting Island State Park when Detective Mason turned into the parking lot of a rustic restaurant named the Shrimp Shack.

“Have you ever eaten here before?” he asked her.

“No, I don't think so. When we visited this area, we prepared our own meals. Mama said it was less expensive.”

He parked the police car and then looked at her. “Let me hear you say Shrimp Shack three times fast.”

Surprised by his request, she looked at him, and said, “Shrimp Shack, Shrimp Shack, Shimp Srack.” A smile showed on her face, and she even laughed a little.

“I knew there was a smile in there somewhere,” he said getting out of the car. He walked to her side of the car and opened the door for her.

As they walked up the stairs to the order window, he said, “Lunch is on me. What would you like?”

“Thank you, Detective. A shrimp dinner?”

“I think I'll have the same.”

When he went to the window to order, a middle-aged black woman stepped forward to take his order.

“Mister Seth, how you been?”

“Good, Rose, and what about you?”

“I been real good, ain't gonna do no good to complain no how.” She laughed. “What can I get for you today?”

“Rose, two shrimp dinners to eat here—and one to go. I'm taking lunch to Rory Masters.”

“How's he doing? I ain't seen that boy in a long time.”

“He has his good days, and his bad days.”

“I understand why,” Rose responded. “Two shrimp dinners to eat here, and one to go,” she yelled to the kitchen staff. Seth paid her for their meals, and then she said with a large smile, “You come back real soon.”

They went out to a covered porch and sat under a ceiling fan to eat their lunch.

“Are you from Beaufort?” she inquired.

“No, ma'am, I'm from the hills of north Georgia. My brother and I took basic training at the Marine Corps Station at Parris Island. I didn't get to see much of the area during that time, but I liked it here so much that I knew I wanted to come back and live here.”

“You sound like Gigi.” Jenks suddenly realized what she had said, and she took a deep breath. “What I meant was, Gigi wanted to live here after we finished college. She had a sense of place about this area—she said the Low Country had always been like home to her, although we only visited during the summer.”

“I understand what she meant,” he responded.

“How long were you in the Marines?”

“Four years—my brother and I joined as soon as we were eighteen. My brother, Steel, decided to make a career of the Marines.”

As they finished their dinners, Detective Mason rose from his seat and discarded their paper plates.

“Thank you,” Jenks said.

“You're welcome. I hope you don't mind one stop before I take you home?”

“No, not at all.”

He extended his left hand to assist her from the picnic table, and she noticed he was not wearing a wedding band.

After leaving the restaurant, they made a turn onto Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Drive, passing the Penn Center. Detective Mason asked, “Have you ever been to the Penn Center?”

“Yes, years ago . . . my mother brought Gigi and me here, and we explored the property. She said it was one of the first schools created to teach freed slaves to read and write.”

“Yes, a lot of good came out of it. From what I understand, Dr. King visited the Penn Center as a place to relax and write. I read that he worked on his ‘I Have a Dream' speech while he was here.”

When they reached the end of the drive, they approached a riverside neighborhood called Land's End. Detective Mason turned onto a sandy drive where several mobile homes were situated. A Marine Corps flag flew from the front of one of the homes, and the policeman parked in front. He tapped the horn and a man moved back a curtain and smiled brightly from a window.

Jenks thought him extremely handsome, with sandy blond hair and a beautiful smile. When he noticed her, he nodded back to her and continued to smile.

“Why don't you go in with me? I'd like for you to meet my friend.”

“All right,” she said, and she picked up the takeaway container from the back seat to take inside.

They walked up a ramp to the front door and it opened as they drew close. Jenks drew a deep breath when she saw that Rory Masters was in a wheelchair and that both his legs were amputated below the knee. She set the container down on the counter and extended her right hand to shake his, hoping he had not noticed the hitch in her breathing.

“Rory, this is Jenks Ellington. I mentioned her to you.”

The man took Jenks's hand and shook it warmly. “I'm pleased to meet you. Seth tells me you're from the Raleigh area. I was sorry to hear about your sister.”

“Thank you,” she responded.

“Seth—thanks for bringing me lunch, and from the Shrimp Shack no less.”

“You know I'm glad to do it. Any word on the job you applied for with Taylor Marine?”

“No, not yet. They said it could be a week or more before they would let me know.”

“I'll be hoping for you. I have to be at work today at three, but what if I come by tomorrow afternoon? We'll have time to talk.”

“Yes, thank you, Seth. Miss Ellington, I've enjoyed meeting you.”

“Anything I can get you out of the refrigerator?” Seth asked.

“A Budweiser and the hot sauce,” Rory said with a smile.