Part 13 (1/2)

”I'll be fine,” Alex said. ”Do you want me to lock up when I'm done here?”

Armstrong looked as if he'd a.s.sumed Alex would leave with him, but he was obviously in too big a hurry to stand there and debate the fact with him.

”Just pull the door shut when you're done, and don't let anybody else in, okay?”

Alex agreed, and as the sheriff headed for the door, he added, ”Alex, if you find anything, you call my office right away, you understand?”

”I promise,” Alex said as the sheriff took off.

Now maybe he could do a little snooping of his own.

An hour later, Alex was no closer to finding anything inside Jefferson's house than he had been when he'd first come in. How in blazes could the man live like that? Alex only hoped the shop would yield something, any clue as to why Jefferson Lee was murdered.

The key to Jefferson's shop hung on a Shaker peg by the doorway. Alex knew the blacksmith's building, with its roaring fires and blackened soot, had to be separate from the house, and he was glad he'd spotted the neatly labeled key as he walked back to the modern shop.

It turned out that Alex hadn't needed the key, after all.

Someone had beaten him to the search, and from the look of the place, they hadn't been too careful disguising their presence there. He was certain the sheriff would never have wrecked the shop in his investigation, nor would he have left it like that without saying something to Alex about it.

As Alex headed back inside to phone the sheriff's office, he wondered if the thief had found what he'd been looking for.

Chapter 17.

Alex called the sheriff's office and spoke with one of Armstrong's deputies, a young man named Dave Jeffries. Alex had known Dave all of his life. He'd been coming out to the lighthouse with his family since he was a small boy, and he'd always tried to convince Alex to light the beacon for him, even if he was visiting at high noon.

The deputy asked him to hang around until he could get there, and Alex readily agreed.

After he hung up the phone, Alex walked back to the shop to have a look around before Dave arrived.

Instead of the old-fas.h.i.+oned equipment Alex had been expecting to see in the shop, he found huge steel machines outfitted with wicked-looking attachments spread all through the blacksmith's shop. It appeared that the quaint equipment Jefferson had set up at the fair had been more for the exhibition than for his daily work. Alex wasn't all that surprised.

The floor of the shop was littered with a thousand papers. Was there a key in all that mess to Jefferson's murder, or had the killer taken a piece of evidence after disposing of the man himself? Alex saw bills, plans, even correspondence with other blacksmiths discussing things like power hammers and a host of other topics Alex didn't understand, but nothing that might point to the murderer.

”Find anything good in there?”

Alex didn't know how long he'd been looking, but he was startled to hear the voice. He looked up from his squatting position to see the young deputy standing in the doorway. There was a smile on Dave's narrow face and an easy way about him that Alex had always liked. Armstrong's uniform was in constant need of expansion, but Dave's was as neat and tailored as the day he'd first put it on.

”Hey, Dave. I was just-”

”Snooping again, Alex? Hey, I'm not the one in our department who has a problem with that. As far as I'm concerned, you can look all you want, as long as that's all you do.” He looked at the papers strewn on the floor. ”Now that is one major mess. You didn't touch anything, did you?”

Alex shook his head. ”I know better than that. I've just been doing some light reading.”

Dave stroked his chin. ”I wonder if they found what they were looking for.”

”I was just thinking the same thing.”

The deputy said, ”Alex, thanks for calling this in, but you'd better take off. I talked to the sheriff on the way over here, and he's heading back just as soon as he can clear up that accident.” Dave grinned. ”From the sound of it, he's a little unhappy that you found this break-in instead of him. It wouldn't hurt to keep a low profile for the next few hours, if you know what I mean.”

Alex nodded. ”Thanks. I just have to use the phone inside; then I'll take off.”

”I'll be right here,” the deputy said, still staring at the mess on the floor.

Alex needed to telephone the inn. He felt a little uneasy using the dead man's phone, as if he were intruding. It was the oddest feeling.

It took seven rings before Mor finally picked up.

Alex said, ”I almost gave up on you.”

”This isn't a great time, Alex. Emma and I are in the middle of something.”

Alex didn't want to know any of the details. He had enough on his plate as it was.

”Did that travel agent phone?” he asked quickly.

”No, you're the first call I've had. Listen, take your time getting back. It looks like we're going to be a while.”

Alex hung up, forgetting for a moment that he'd called Mor with the intent of getting a ride back to his truck.

That was out of the question now. His stomach growled, and Alex realized he'd skipped lunch again. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry, but he'd grown accustomed to eating with Elise at the inn, and without her to remind him, Alex had a tendency to work right through the noonday meal.

Buck's Grill was close enough to walk to, and after grabbing a bite to eat, Alex was fairly certain he'd be able to find someone to give him a lift back to his truck. It was the other side of the coin to small town life. Everybody always seemed to know everybody else's business, but they were also willing to help out at the drop of a hat when they were needed.

It was one of the many pluses that made the few minuses worthwhile.

The crowd at Buck's had thinned considerably, and Alex didn't have any trouble grabbing a seat at the counter. Elise always liked to sit in a booth when they ate at the diner, but Alex liked to be near the griddle, where the action was. In all honesty, he kind of missed the playful debate with her about where to sit.

Buck's daughter Sally Anne was wiping the counter as Alex sat down. Instead of the typical teasing he normally got from her, Sally Anne gave him a sympathetic smile as she put a large gla.s.s of iced tea in front of him and quickly filled a small pitcher with more of the same.

”Would you like your usual?” she asked softly.

Alex nodded. ”How about some extra fries with that today? I'm really hungry.”

She nodded, scribbled his order on her pad, then called out to her father in back, ”Dad, order up.”

She took her rag and cleaned the spot just beside him, one that was already gleaming. ”Alex, I'm so sorry. You must be crushed.”

He finished a sip of the wonderful sweet tea and said, ”I hate to see anyone murdered, but if it had to happen, I'd rather it wasn't at Hatteras West.”

”I'm not talking about the murder, Alex; that's old news. It's got to be hard, what with Elise packing up and leaving you in the middle of all this mess.”

”Sally Anne, she's visiting family. There was a medical emergency.”

The young waitress nodded knowingly. ”I understand, Alex. Listen, you've always been a good friend to me. If you need to talk or anything, give me a call, okay?”

Though her sentiment was misplaced, Sally Anne did have a good heart. Besides, he was tired of denying the rumors.