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A little after eight, we started back to the ferry terminal, enjoying our leisurely stroll. The streets were less crowded now, no doubt in part because it was Monday evening. We paused on the sidewalk in front of a little antiques shop, admiring a handsome blanket chest.
“I’d put it at about 1825 or so,” Thaddeus decided. “Look at the unusual wood patina. It’s not your typical mahogany.”
My mother and I stepped forward and took a closer look. I recognized the style of the chest as Queen Anne, but as for the material, I was stumped. Leave it to Laurel to straighten us out.
“Actually, dear, I think that piece is made of Bermuda cedar.”
“Cedar? I don’t think so.”
“I do. Bermuda cedar was a popular wood for early Bermuda furniture. The Latin name for it is juniperus bermudiana, or Bermuda juniper. It’s an evergreen that has blue-green foliage, cones, and soft berries. About forty years ago, only one percent of them remained. That’s because two types of scale were accidentally introduced into Bermuda. These insects attacked the native trees, decimating them.”
“Good heavens, woman, how do you know so much about Bermuda’s trees?”
I could tell Thaddeus was stunned by the depth and breadth of my mother’s knowledge, but not me. I come from a family with long ties to trees. The Googins brothers were big on conservation long before Earth Day was invented, and Laurel Googins Wilson was her father’s daughter after all. She not only continued using the family tradition of naming offspring after types of trees (I’m named after the Scarlet oak), she raised us to respect the forest. When we were kids, she used to take us through the woods in search of saplings to replace the damaged or diseased trees my father and other volunteers would cull from White Oak Hill. We’d carefully dig up each one and add it to the miniature forest growing in a narrow plot of land in our backyard. Every spring, she’d pick out the ones that were ready to be transplanted and we’d traipse up the mountain with our shovels in hand and replenish the forest.
“My father and uncle were tree people,” she smiled at him. “So was my husband.”
“But I thought your family manufactured paper products.”
“No, the Four Oaks was a pressboard company. They made those hard covers for accounting ledgers from wood pulp. I spent a lot of time learning the ins and outs of the forestry business, first from my father and then from my husband. My son Bur is involved in reforestation projects all over the country.”
“Well, what do you know,” Thaddeus gave an admiring sigh. “I certainly do have to make an effort to keep up with you. What else do you know about Bermuda juniper, also known as cedar?”
“When the trees died off, it threw the native birds a curve. Now the Bermuda white-eyed vireo and one type of eastern bluebird face extinction because their nesting ground is gone. Even if the reforestation effort is successful, this is such a slow-growing tree that it will take about two hundred years to succeed. It’s not likely that the birds will hang on that long.”
“You continue to amaze me. Does this mean you’re also an expert on furniture, in addition to trees?”
“No, but I do know that if this chest is made of cedar, it’s much more likely to have been constructed in the late seventeen hundreds, because later on, furniture makers, even those in the Caribbean, switched to mahogany,” she said, smiling up at the man beside her. “So 1775 or so is my educated guess.”
“Hold on, folks.” Kenny stepped up to the storefront window. I found myself gently displaced as he got between me and the building. “I think I can settle this. I’ll read the tag.”
“Allow me,” I told him, giving him a wide berth. “We wouldn’t want to leave Hamilton without an answer. Some people might spend what remains of the evening trying to research the subject and the rest of us would have no sleep.”
Kenny, long and lean, pulled out his reading glasses, squatted down, and pressed his nose against the glass in his attempt to glean the printed details of the gilt-edged card, tied to the foot of the antique chest with a red silk ribbon.
“I think I see a one and a seven,” he announced. His elbow caught me in the thigh.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, babe.”
“Do you want me to have a look?” I offered. “I don’t mind.”
“No, Scarlet, I’ve got this. If I could just have a little more room, I’ll be able to see that other number....”
I stepped away again and that’s when something odd happened. My right ankle unexpectedly got tangled up with an unseen obstacle, something hard, thin, and unyielding, like a stick. As I scrambled to stay upright, I stumbled backwards off the curb and into Front Street traffic. The sharp beep of a horn signaled a driver’s warning, but it was already too late. Twirling around, trying to save myself, my left hand struck the metal hood of the vehicle, and then my right followed suit. Looking down, I saw the rear tires rolling towards my toes. Oh, God! This isn’t going to end well. What do I do?
In a fraction of a second, as alarm bells sounded their warning inside my head, my mind took in all this information and spat out an emergency plan. Sheer panic drove me to use simple physics to save my derrière. I implemented my own version of the “motion of a mass on a spring” principle. Folding my arms tight to my chest, I deliberately fell towards the car and then pushed away from that death trap on wheels, using my biceps as springs.
“Oh, good God!” I heard my mother scream.
“Scarlet!” Thaddeus yelled.
Propelled backwards by the force of my trajectory off of the moving vehicle, I bumped back over the curb and landed hard on the sidewalk, fanny first. My elbows felt the sting of the sidewalk as they skidded along the rough surface. And I thought roller derby was a dangerous sport. At least you get to wear knee and elbow pads.
“Are you okay?” Kenny’s worried face suddenly appeared in front of me.
“Huh?” was the only reply I could muster. My heart was racing, remembering how close I came to becoming a human speed bump on Front Street. My brain was trying to tell me something, but all I could think about was the pain.
“Is she okay?” my mother wanted to know. “Scarlet...darling....”
“She’s in shock,” the good doctor replied. I felt firm fingers on my wrist. “Her pulse is fast. Let’s give her a moment.”
A small crowd began to gather as I sat there, sprawled out. My body felt like it had been hit by a car, which was pretty close to the truth, all things considered. What was wrong? I think someone tripped me.
“Do you think you can stand, Scarlet?” Thaddeus seemed hopeful I hadn’t sustained too much damage. “See if your ankle can support some weight. We’ll take you back to the ship and get you cleaned up.”
Two strong sets of hands lifted me up and set me down, feet first, on the pavement. I wobbled to and fro, wincing as a sharp ache made it impossible to stand on my right foot. That’s when Dr. Van Zandt issued his medical opinion.
“It looks like a sprain, Scarlet. It will be sore for a week or two.”
I was still trying to process what had just happened to me. One second I was stepping back on the sidewalk to give Kenny some room, and the next, I was entwined with an object that pulled my ankle out from under me. And it all happened while my mother, Thaddeus, and Kenny were trying to find out about that damn blanket chest.
“I think someone tripped me,” I said aloud.
“None of us moved, Scarlet.” My mother looked frightened.
“But someone tripped me!” I insisted. “I felt it!”
“We would never do that to you. Oh, the poor dear is imagining things, Thaddeus,” my mother clucked anxiously. “Does she have a concussion?”
“I’m not imagining things!” I argued, feeling churlish. “Somebody tripped me!”
“Shh!” Kenny hushed me, his lips close to my ear. “Not here, Scarlet. We don’t want a scene.”
Ten minutes later, sitting in a seat on the ferry with a plastic bag of ice on my foot, I felt like crying. Somebody really did trip me. I was sure of it. “Why won’t you believe me?”
“Sweetheart, we were there. We saw....” My mother tried to comfort me, convinced I was off my rocker.
“This sometimes happens with soft tissue injuries. I’ve seen patients who snapped a tendon on the tennis court....” the surgeon remarked, ready to provide a medical explanation for what had happened to me.
“Oh, forget it!” I shook the makeshift ice pack from my foot, rose up from my seat, and hopped away. I needed some air.
“Scarlet!” Kenny called to me. I just kept going. If they weren’t going to believe me, I’d rather be alone.
I made my way to the railing and leaned over, letting the tears of pain and frustration fall into the turquoise waters below. The view was magnificent, but at that moment, I was just too furious to care. The sun could have caught fire and burned as I stood there and it wouldn’t have mattered to me. Someone deliberately tripped me, damn it!
“Scarlet.” Kenny kept his voice low and soothing.
“Go away,” I replied through clenched teeth.
“I believe you.” He put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “I saw the guy’s reflection in the storefront window.”
“You did? Why didn’t you chase the bastard?” I demanded, pulling away. “Why did you let him get away?”
“My first concern was you.”
“But....”
“It all happened so fast and by the time we picked you up, he had already merged into the crowd. I got a look at his face, though.”
“You did?”
“I did. Does that make you feel better?”
“Only if you can pick him out of a lineup,” I snapped.
“I can do better than that.”
“You can?”
“Sure. We’re going to beat the bum back to the ship. We’re going to stop him from boarding the Liberty of the Seas.”
“How can you know that?” My faith was still tenuous at best.
“We’re returning on the ferry.”
“And?”
“He didn’t come aboard.” Kenny kissed the top of my head and held me tighter. “And that means it’s going to take him the better part of an hour to get back to King’s Wharf.”
I studied him, trying to figure out if he was just trying to appease me, but he seemed sincere. I wanted to believe him, but I needed some more convincing. “So?”
“We’re going to set a trap for him. There’s only one way to get back on that ship. Marley and his people will be waiting when he tries to come aboard.”
Relief washed over me like a wave, leaving me feeling hopeful as I realized the importance of this fact. If the creep didn’t get back on the ship, there would be no murder.
“Brilliant,” I declared, throwing my arms around him. My confidence in Kenny was definitely improving.
“I agree. Some people would say it was positively masterful.”
“Would they?”
“They would. Now kiss me again, this time with feeling.”
By the time the Sea Express catamaran tied up to the dock, my right ankle was throbbing and I was a liability for Kenny, who was chomping at the bit to get to the gangway before the killer arrived.
“Go,” I urged him. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“Where is Kenny off to in such a hurry,” my mother asked. “Did he leave to fetch you a pair of crutches?”
“He had an emergency that required his attention,” I replied, trying hard not to spill the beans. Until the killer was in custody, I didn’t want to jinx it by assuming it was a done deal. With my luck, the bastard will get away, and then where will we be?
“Let me help you,” Thaddeus offered gallantly. “We’ll take it slow on the way back, Scarlet. And I’ll wrap your ankle when we get back to the stateroom. You should take some Advil, not only for the pain, but for the swelling, and keep it elevated.”
“In other words, the RICE principle—rest, ice, compression, elevation,” I nodded, accepting Thaddeus’s arm and struggling to keep my weight off my right ankle. My mother rolled along beside us.
“You could have been killed, sweetheart. My heart was in my throat when I saw you flying through the air like that.”
“You’re very quick on your feet,” Thaddeus added.
“That’s because she’s been climbing that mountain ever since she was a child. If you only knew how many times I had to bite my tongue when she and her brothers played on the rock ledges. Scarlet always was a tomboy. She insisted on keeping up with the others, even if it meant being a daredevil.”
“Do you suppose that’s part of why she’s such a successful solver of mysteries, Laurel? She doesn’t mind jumping in with both feet.”
“No, if you ask me, it’s more like she doesn’t have enough good sense to stay away from danger. It’s like a magnet, drawing her in every time.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” he nodded, “but you must admit her heart is in the right place. What if the FBI had arrested Kathleen for the murder of her husband? That would have been a travesty, especially because she’s not the killer.”
“I just wish she wouldn’t take so many chances,” was my mother’s response. I shook my head in disbelief.
“You two do realize I’m right here, right? You’re discussing me like I can’t hear you.”
“Oh!” Steering her motorized wheelchair with one hand, my mother reached up for mine with her other. “It’s just that I worry about you. I thought when Kenny came back to Cheswick that you’d settle down to your work at the inn and leave the investigating to him. He was trained to solve cases, Scarlet. You’re not.”
“I must disagree with you on this point,” Thaddeus told my mother candidly. “Be honest, Laurel. She’s got a knack for it. You told me what she did for Larry when that deranged killer set his sights on her.”
It was true. When my friend Larry was kidnapped by a creep from her past, I disarmed him with cocktails and canapés.
“That’s an exception to the Miz Scarlet rule,” my mother acknowledged. “Her only defense against dangerous people is her intuition. It’s not like she carries a weapon or knows jujitsu.”
“At least she knows when to duck,” Thaddeus kidded. My mother was not amused.
“My point is that she could be killed one of these days!”
“I don’t think Kenny would let that happen....”
“But he might not be there at a critical moment, and then where would she be? Lying in a ditch along the side of some godforsaken road or locked up in some maniac’s attic!”
My mother’s anxiety level was rising quickly. It was time to step in and speak up.
“Again,” I reminded them, “you two are talking about me like I’m not here.”