Page 36 of Skin and Bones

I opened it to find Hank and Dottie waiting outside. Bea swept in behind them dramatically, the silk of her turquoise dress whispering against the doorframe as she entered.

“Did you find it?” Dottie asked without preamble.

I nodded, pointing to the package Dash was still holding. “Hidden behind a brick in the mechanical room.”

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Bea exclaimed, making a beeline for the teapot. “Open it! But first, who wants a little pick-me-up in their tea?” She grabbed the bottle of bourbon she kept under my counter.

“Sign me up,” Deidre said. “My knees are aching something fierce. Do you have any ibuprofen?”

“Look in the top right drawer of my desk,” I told her, and she shuffled off to the office.

“I’ll take a hit too,” Hank said. “But just a small one. I’m driving. I need something to take the edge off. I can’t stand those things. A bunch of uppity know-it-alls.”

“Most of those people have been your circle of friends your whole life,” Dottie said scoldingly.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like ’em,” Hank said. “Just said they’re a bunch of uppity know-it-alls.”

Dash carefully placed the package on the table. “It’s been preserved surprisingly well.”

“Plastic bag,” Dottie noted with approval. “Smart girl.”

“You have plastic gloves?” Dash asked.

“Of course,” I said, moving behind the display counter where I kept bakery items during opening hours. I handed him the gloves and he put them on with ease.

Dash opened the yellowed ziplock. Inside was a small notebook and what appeared to be several pages of financial ledgers. He gently removed them, placing them on the table.

I moved to the counter where the kettle had begun to whistle. As I prepared a pot of Earl Grey, I couldn’t help stealing glances at the table where they all huddled over Elizabeth’s hidden treasure. I arranged the teacups on a silver tray, adding sugar and milk for those who took it.

“It looks like accounting records,” I said, leaning closer as I passed out the cups.

“Not just any records,” Dash replied, his voice low. “These appear to be from the Harbor Development Corporation. And look at these notations in the margins—RM, PC. Initials.”

“Roy Milton,” Hank said immediately. “Our former crooked sheriff.”

“And PC could be Paul Cromwell, the current mayor’s father,” Deidre added. “He was on the city council back then.”

“There’s a third set of payments here,” Dash said, pointing to a column of figures with no initials beside them. “Regular amounts, substantial ones, but no identification.”

“These unmarked payments could be what Brooks was warning Elizabeth about,” I said, recalling our earlier discussion about Jason Brooks. “If he knew these payments were happening…”

“He’s definitely our next stop,” Hank agreed, examining the papers closely. “These ledgers show money moving through shell companies, payments to officials. Elizabeth was onto something big.”

“We need to talk to him as soon as possible,” Deidre insisted.

“I’ll call him first thing tomorrow,” Hank said, adjusting his glasses. “We served on a judicial panel together back in ’03. He’ll take my call.” He tapped his finger on the ledger. “I’ll tell him it’s about Elizabeth Calvert. If he has any conscience at all, that should get his attention.”

“This is just a piece of the puzzle,” Dash cautioned. “These records suggest impropriety, maybe financial fraud, but they don’t prove Elizabeth was murdered because of what she found.”

“No,” Dottie said, leaning in to study the pages. “But they give us a clear direction. If Brooks was warning her about the danger of investigating these payments, he might know who silenced her permanently.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Dash warned. “These documents are nearly thirty years old. We need to build this case carefully, interview people who were around back then. This is just the first step.”

“Well,” Bea said, raising her teacup that now smelled more of bourbon than tea, “To first steps and finding justice for Elizabeth Calvert. After thirty years, it’s about time someone finally looked for the truth.”

We all raised our cups in a solemn toast, the weight of what we’d found settling over us. Through the darkness outside, I could see the lighthouse beam sweeping across the harbor, circling endlessly as it had the night Elizabeth died.

Whatever secrets that light had witnessed all those years ago, we were finally on the path to uncovering them.

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