Authors: Patricia Watters
Nate, who stood
at the head of the catwalk, handed him a handkerchief. "Press this to your
head and lay down."
Will wadded the
handkerchief against the wound. "We'd better radio the authorities about
fishing out the man's body," he said, "and Mike will be wondering
what's happening."
"Where is
he?" Nellie asked.
"With a
woman in town," Will replied.
"Which
woman?" Nate asked.
"Her
name's Maggie," Will replied. "Maggie Dunthorp."
Nate's face
clearly showed concern. "We need get down there. Maggie was a patient at
the mental hospital. When the mill shut down and the people left, the mental
hospital was also shut down and the patients let out. Most of them stayed
around and are harmless, but I heard something different about Maggie. Come
on." He started down the road.
Nellie's voice
cracked with apprehension, as she asked, "What did you hear?"
Nate quickened
his pace. "That she poisoned her husband."
"Oh my
God!" Nellie raced ahead, but was quickly overtaken by Will, who grabbed
her hand, pulling her along.
"I had no
way of knowing," Will said, breathless. "She seemed fine when I
talked to her." He stopped explaining, not wanting to waste valuable time
or energy. They scrambled down the embankment, and within minutes, burst through
the door to Maggie’s house.
"Mom!"
Mike yelled, racing over to hug Nellie, who caught him in her arms.
Nellie looked
over Mike’s head at the woman she assumed was Maggie Dunthorp, who stood in the
doorway leading to the kitchen. The woman appeared perfectly normal—plain dress
and apron following her plumpish figure, gray hair caught in a bun at her nape,
hands holding a mixing bowl. Nellie looked anxiously at the bowl, then looked
at Mike and asked, in a tentative voice, "What were you doing in the kitchen?"
Mike shrugged.
"Making cookies."
"Did
you... eat any cookie dough?"
"No,"
Mike said. "Maggie said we had to wait till she put some stuff in it to
make it taste right, something out of a little bottle."
Nellie stood,
holding Mike's hand. Giving Maggie a nervous smile, she said, while backing,
"We have to be going. But thank you so much for watching my son."
Mike looked up,
miffed. "We haven't finished the cookies. Maggie said—"
"I'm
sorry, honey, but we have to go. Now!" She nudged him in the ribs.
"Why are
you poking me like that?" Mike said, annoyed. "I don't want to
go—"
"Mike!"
She smiled politely at Maggie then turned abruptly as the doorway darkened and
a tall woman with reddish hair, stepped inside. The woman looked from Nellie
and Mike to Will. "Is there a problem here?" she asked.
Maggie smiled,
clearly pleased to see the woman, whom she addressed as Georgia. Maggie
explained that she and Mike were making cookies. When she'd finished, Georgia
told Maggie to return to her cooking. After Maggie left the room, Georgia said,
"I'm sorry to barge in like this, but I was concerned about Maggie.
Sometimes she doesn't cope very well." Her eyes moved to the gash on
Will's head. "Clay told me what happened. You'd better let me put a few
stitches in that wound."
Nellie looked
at her, uneasily. "Are you a... that is—"
"A
nurse?" Georgia said. "Yes, I assure you I am."
"She is
indeed." Vernon Sinclair's voice came from behind. "She was on the
mental ward of the hospital, and when it shut down, she stayed to help with the
patients who refused to leave." He curved his arm around Georgia’s
shoulders. "May I introduce my wife," he said, his eyes filled with a
combination of love and admiration.
Nellie's lips
parted. "You're married? I mean, it's enough of a shock to learn you're
alive, much less married."
Vernon released
Georgia and took Nellie's hands in his. "I'm sorry. I've put you through a
terrible ordeal. But I never expected you to find out I was alive and living
here. Believe me,
Cornelia,
I'm very, very sorry."
"But, I
don't understand. Why did you do it?"
"It's a
long story. I'll tell you all about it, later."
Nellie looked
at Maggie, who stood at the kitchen counter spooning dough onto the metal
cookie sheet, and said to Georgia, in a hushed voice, "Nate said Maggie
poisoned her husband."
"She
did," Georgia replied, "but as an act of kindness. Her husband was
dying of cancer and he asked her to help end his pain, which she did by
allowing him to take an overdose of sleeping pills."
"Then it
was suicide?"
"In
essence, yes."
Nellie frowned.
"But, if he did it himself, why was Maggie in the hospital?"
"She
couldn't cope very well after he died. They'd been childhood sweethearts and
married for over sixty years, and they were very close. After he died she
suffered a complete mental breakdown, the reason she was in the hospital."
Her eyes shifted to Will's head. "I really should clean and dress that
gash. Clay brought the car so he can take us back to the house."
"Clay?"
Nellie looked at her uncle, puzzled.
Vernon shrugged.
"Why don't you let the boy finish making cookies? He'll be fine with
Maggie. And while Georgia takes care of Will, you and I can catch up on
things."
"Please,
Mom." Mike looked pleadingly at Nellie.
"Believe
me," Georgia reassured Nellie, "he'll be fine. He couldn't be in
safer hands."
Nellie sighed.
"Well…" But Mike was already in the kitchen.
Nate went back
to the
Isadora
to radio the
authorities, and Nellie, Will and Georgia climbed into Vernon's older-model
car, and a few minutes later, arrived back at the house. While Georgia tended
to the wound on Will's head, Vernon relayed to Nellie his story...
"It began
after your Aunt Maud died and I started gambling," Vernon said, while
pacing the floor. "When we first married, she'd get mad and upset when I
gambled, even threatened to leave me, so I promised I'd quit, which I did for
thirty-five years. But after she died... Well, the will is weak, they say, and
I started again. At first my luck was hot. Every bet I made was a winner. The
stakes got higher. Then things suddenly changed. The next thing I knew I was
heavily in debt. That's when a man approached me about a loan, one so good I
couldn't refuse. When I couldn't pay it back on demand, the threats started.
Before I knew it, I was in and couldn't get out."
"Why
didn't you sell the
Isadora
or
declare bankruptcy and get out of it all?" Nellie asked.
Vernon gave a
heavy sigh. "It wasn't that simple. It turned out my creditors were
racketeers involved in drugs, prostitution, embezzling and other illicit
activities."
"Then why
didn't you go to the police and explain what happened?" Nellie asked.
"The mob
found out you and Mike were my only relatives and they threatened your lives if
I didn't do what they said. When I realized as long as I was connected with
them, your life would be in danger, I knew I had to get out. So I turned
myself over to the FBI, and in exchange for
information and names, the FBI made me a part of their witness protection
program, declared me dead after the accident, gave me a new identity and
settled me here. What I didn't count on was your being followed, especially
since I knew you had no reason to believe I was alive."
"Then
they've been following me for some time," Nellie said, cringing at the
thought of her and Mike being watched unknowingly.
"I suspect
ever since my funeral," Vernon replied. "They probably assumed if
anyone knew the truth it would be my only kin, that you'd eventually lead them
to me. I figured you weren't in danger as long as you didn't know I was alive.
They didn't want you. They wanted me. I'd recorded everything in case something
happened, but I forgot where I put my journal with the names of the mob
members. When I remembered it was hidden on the
Isadora
, I knew I had to get it before the mob did so I could pass
it on to the Feds."
"So that’s
what Captain Nate was after," Nellie said, "your journal, not his."
Vernon nodded.
"How long
until you can come out of hiding?" Nellie asked.
Vernon
shrugged. "Pretty soon now since Baxter, my contact with the witness protection
program, told me a few minutes ago that the other men had been apprehended.
Seems the authorities had been following them, and you. But they were stopped
by the storm. They should be here in the next day or so. As soon as they get
the names of the other mob members, they'll be picked up too. As for leaving
here--" he smiled warmly at Georgia, who tied the last of the stitches
closing the gash on Will's head "--I've never been as happy as I am in
Ocean Bay. Georgia has family and friends here, and I have a past I'd just as
soon forget. Besides, a few of the houses have sold recently and the
town's
become known as a vacation spot. Who knows, before
it's all over there could even be a casino here."
Georgia gave
him a dark look, and he qualified that with, "But I'd be at the receiving
end this time as casino owner." He took another look at Georgia and said,
"Actually, I've had my fill of casino's and gambling for a lifetime."
Georgia reached
up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Clay."
Nellie looked
from Georgia to Uncle Vern, and said, "Then you intend to keep the name,
Clay Simpson?"
He nodded.
"It suits the new me. Besides, it's the only name Georgia's ever known me
by."
Nellie saw
Georgia smile at him, and caught the unspoken words of love between them.
"When were you two married?" she asked.
"A couple
of weeks ago," Vernon replied.
"But
where?" Nellie asked. "Is there a preacher here?"
"Yes, in
that church down there." Vernon pointed to a slender steeple gracing a
church. "I admit, it was a whirlwind romance, but I have no regrets, and I
don't think Georgia does either."
Nellie looked
toward the docks. "You'll both have to come see the
Isadora
," she said. "You'll love it now that it's all
fixed up. Will and Mike and I painted and varnished it, and we reupholstered
the cushions and put in new carpets so it’s ready when you're free to sail
again."
"I won’t
be sailing again," Vernon said. "The
Isadora
’s yours."
"But I
can't accept such a gift now that you’re alive," Nellie said. "It
wouldn't be right, you living here with no income."
"I have
income," Vernon replied, "the marine supply store. It was set up as a
front for me, but word's out now, and since it's the only grocery or supply
store for miles around, I have more business than I can handle. Georgia and I
have even been talking about adding a pub where boaters can stop in for a beer
and a sandwich. But I want you to keep the
Isadora
,
if for no reason than to make a retired old sea dog happy. Besides, you and the
boy need a way to get here to visit me, and, I assume I can count on Will to
captain her, since Nate's now a partner with me in the marine supply
store."
Will nodded,
but when Nellie glanced at him, she caught an unreadable look in his eyes.
Before she could analyze it, Vernon added, "Let's take a look at the work
you've done on the old girl and see if we can find my journal."
They collected
Mike and headed toward the marina. On board the
Isadora
, Vernon motioned for them to follow him through the galley
to the master stateroom. He opened the closet and passed his hands over several
wide boards in the back wall, stopping on one particular board. "It's
behind this one," he said, thumping it with the heel of his balled fist.
From the gear
locker, Will retrieved a hammer and a nail-puller, pulled out the nails and
removed the board. Wedged between the hull and the wall paneling was a metal
box. Vernon retrieved the box, opened the lid, and removed the journal. Among
the contents was also a small blue velvet box. He opened the box and lifted out
a cameo brooch. "This belonged to my grandmother--your great-grandmother
and namesake, Cornelia Sinclair," he said to Nellie. "Your
great-grandfather gave it to her on their wedding day, and I’ve held onto it
for when you marry again." He glanced at Will, then at Nellie, and smiled.
"I think it's time you have it. You know something old." He handed
the brooch to Nellie.
Nellie's lips
quivered in a nervous smile. "It's lovely." She held up the brooch,
but when she turned to show it to Will, the dark look on his face said it all.
You won't be marrying me.
The following
day, the authorities fished the gunman's body out of the water, questioned
everyone, and filled out their report. Nellie had been terribly worried that
Mike would suffer severe emotional trauma from the ordeal, but he showed little
concern, being more interested in following Captain Nate around while the old
man recounted tales of his adventures at sea,
the
same
time-worn stories that fascinated her when she was a child.
After the authorities
left, Uncle Vern took Nellie aside and told her he intended to pay off the back
rent on the boathouse. When Nellie flatly refused to let him, he was adamant
that with all the work she'd done on the
Isadora
to offset the rent he owed, he'd have it no other way. It was her inheritance,
but he was still alive to see her enjoy it. He also assured her he was living
comfortably in Ocean Bay, where expenses were almost non-existent, and his
marina was bringing in a good income. When Nellie still tried to argue that the
Isadora
was more than adequate
compensation, and she should at least pay the back rent, he insisted that she
and Mike had been through hell because of him and he'd never be able to sleep
at night unless she accepted the
Isadora
and the back rent paid, and that was that!