The Phantom of Nantucket (5 page)

Jeremiah shrugged and for the first time did not look irritated. “The masses always pick the easy option. Genius is often underappreciated.”

This man certainly thought highly of himself.

“Anyway,” Jeremiah continued, “let me give you the tour, so you can write it up in your guidebook.” He pushed back from the desk, and for the first time we saw that he was in a wheelchair, his right leg in a large cast. George and I exchanged a startled glance.

“How long have you been in that?” George squawked.

“About a month. I fell off a ladder while I was repainting the shutters. I was lucky all I broke was my leg.” He wheeled ahead and George and I hung back, conferring.

“There's no way he could have stolen the figurehead,” George whispered.

“Unless he had someone help him,” I offered.

“Pick up the pace, girls!” Jeremiah shouted. “I don't have all day to give you this tour.” We reluctantly trailed after him, neither of us looking forward to learning all about floorboards.

Forty-five minutes later we found Bess waiting for us outside. She had followed Kelsey, who had only ended up going back to the museum. Jenna had promised to call us if Kelsey left or anyone suspicious came to visit her at work. We decided to walk along the beach as we figured out which lead to follow next.

“I can't imagine anyone helping Jeremiah,” ­George said. “They'd be bored to death in the process.”

“He does seem like a loner,” I agreed, “but it's possible that he got someone to help him. I won't take him off the suspect list, but he's definitely not at the top.”

A gust of wind came up and swept Bess's hat off her head. She shrieked and all three of us took off after it, but the wind kept it just ahead of us. All of a sudden a hand snatched it out of the sand.

I looked up and saw a strong, good-looking boy holding the hat. “Does this belong to one of you?” he asked.

“That's mine,” Bess said, stepping forward. “Thank you for saving it.”

“It's never a hassle to help a pretty girl,” he said with a smile, holding out his hand. “I'm Mike,” he added. Bess took his hand shyly.

“Oh brother,” George muttered under her breath. “Another one bites the dust.”

Bess didn't mean for this to happen, but boys were just constantly falling head over heels for her. Sure enough, Mike was already making moon-eyes at Bess. He had reached out to put the hat back on her head when I spotted something: a bright-red paint mark on the side of his shirt.

It was exactly the same shade as the paint used to write “Liar” on the sign!

CHAPTER SIX

Prankster on the Loose

“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR SHIRT?” I
asked Mike urgently. He twisted around and saw the stain.

“Oh man!” he said, sounding genuinely upset. “This is my favorite shirt!” He stripped it off and ran toward the water. We followed after him.

He waded into the ocean and dunked the shirt in the water, scrubbing at the paint stain. I stood behind him, trying to avoid getting my feet wet. We were on the bay side of the island, so the water was calm, just tiny waves lapping onto the shore. Every once in a while, though, a slightly larger wave would make it farther up on the sand and I'd have to jump back.

“Where do you think it happened?” I shouted over the sound of shrieking children as they played in the ocean.

“Stupid fall regatta,” Mike said.

“What does the fall regatta have to do with your shirt?” I asked.

“They're repainting all the mooring stations at the Sailing Club for the fall regatta. I must have bumped into one.” He looked down at his shirt. The paint stain didn't look any better. “This is such a bummer. Excuse me, ladies. I have to go find a new shirt.”

He walked off, and I turned to Bess and George. “Whoever vandalized the sign probably stole the paint from the Sailing Club.”

“Who do we know who has access to the Sailing Club?” George asked.

“Marni said Connor, Jenna's ex-boyfriend, is there every day,” I said.

“And Kelsey works there,” Bess added.

“To the Sailing Club!” George shouted, throwing her fist in the air. We laughed and trudged across the sand to the parking lot.

* * *

“May I see your membership card?”

A middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and a bow tie peered over a counter at George, Bess, and me with a smug grin. He could tell just by looking at us that we didn't have a membership card. I'd known as soon as we'd stepped foot on Sailing Club property that it wasn't going to be as easy to get in as I had thought. The parking lot was filled with fancy cars, and everyone we saw walking in was wearing either tennis whites or fancy clothes. Even Bess was underdressed here—and she looked the nicest of us. George looked down self-consciously. Normally she didn't care about how she looked, but her jeans and dirty sneakers were so out of place, she probably couldn't help but notice.

The man behind the check-in desk was still looking at me expectantly. I had to think fast. “Well, I'm not a member. But,” I said quickly, not giving the man the chance to cut us off, “my father is interested in joining. He wants to make sure that I like it before he makes his decision.” I added an extra lilt to my voice, trying to come across like a bratty daughter who would throw a fit if I was unhappy with the place. “So,” I continued, “can we just take a quick look around?”

“A member needs to sign you in,” the man said, completely unimpressed by my story. He turned away from us and went back to his computer. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over.

George, Bess, and I stepped outside. “Jenna's a member, right?” I asked Bess.

“Yeah,” Bess said, “but she seemed really busy. I don't know if she'll be able to step away from the museum.”

“I bet if we go around back, there will be a way for us to sneak in,” George suggested.

I didn't have a better idea, but it made me nervous. If we got caught—and I was pretty sure we would—we'd embarrass Jenna and lose valuable time explaining ourselves to security or, worse, the police. I was debating what to do when Marni emerged from a car in the parking lot.

“Hey!” she greeted us cheerfully.

“Are you a member here?” I asked.

“Yep!” She grinned. “Free membership for a year is one of the perks of winning the regatta.” She looked at us standing right outside the door, and it must have clicked. “Do you need me to sign you in?”

“Could you please?” I asked.

“Sure. Follow me.” She walked inside, with us right behind her. “Hi, Fred!” she acknowledged the man at the desk. “These are my friends. They'll be joining me today.”

“I need them to sign here,” he grumbled through gritted teeth, roughly shoving the guest log toward us. The three of us signed our names as Fred glowered. George couldn't resist flashing him a self-satisfied smile.

Marni escorted us through the central lounge. White wicker furniture with nautical-themed cushions decorated the area, while small triangular flags hung above. A man in a suit played a piano in the corner. Members walked around us, speaking in soft tones.

“This is the main lounge,” Marni said. “The furniture gets put away and it's turned into a ballroom once a month. There's a sit-down restaurant and a snack bar over there. In the back there's Ping-Pong, foosball, and badminton.”

“I didn't realize it was so big,” I said. “I thought this was just where people kept their boats.”

“Yeah,” Marni said. “It's a real social hub for summer people. I know a lot of families who are members even though they don't own boats.”

“Speaking of boats,” Bess said, “I thought you said you kept yours at the marina.”

Marni looked uncomfortable. “I do, but Jenna's dad said I could use their boat for the fall regatta. It's a much tougher competition. Their boat is a lot fancier and will really help my odds of winning,” she said quickly, almost as if she was defending her decision to use Jenna's family's boat.

“That's great!” Bess exclaimed.

“It's very generous,” Marni said. “I haven't decided if I'm going to use it or not.”

“Why wouldn't you?” George asked incredulously.

“I just don't know if I feel comfortable,” Marni replied. She paused for a second before continuing, “Besides, the GPS is on the fritz. I have to see if I can get that to work before I can make a decision.”

“I bet I can fix it!” George offered enthusiastically.

“She's really good with gadgets,” I said.

“Don't you need to help Nancy find the figurehead?” Marni asked George.

“Do you mind, Nancy? If you need help, of course I will, but if you two are okay on your own . . .” George gave me a hopeful look. It was a look I couldn't resist, and honestly, Bess and I could handle talking to ­Connor by ourselves.

“Have fun,” I said. George beamed. Marni smiled, still looking a little uneasy.

“Hey, Nancy,” Bess said urgently. “There he is!” She nodded toward Connor walking down the hall, holding a Ping-Pong racket. He disappeared through a double door across the room, and we lost sight of him.

“He's probably going to play Ping-Pong,” Marni said. “He plays almost every day.”

“Bess, how would you like to play a game of Ping-Pong?” I asked.

“I would love to play a game of Ping-Pong,” she answered with a smile.

“The rec room is through there and to the right,” Marni said, pointing to the double door Connor had gone through.

Bess and I took off after Connor while George headed out with Marni to check out the boat.

The rec room was mostly full of younger kids playing a variety of table games. Others sat in beanbag chairs, playing video games. We spotted Connor bouncing a Ping-Pong ball on his paddle. Older than anyone else in the room, he looked out of place and lonely.

I nudged Bess forward. “Want to play a game” she asked him with a smile.

Connor's eyes widened. “You want to play with me?” he asked shyly. Bess nodded and crossed to the Ping-Pong table. Connor picked up the other paddle, handed it to Bess, and helped her take off her jacket. Very gentlemanly, I noted. He obviously didn't recognize Bess from their earlier encounter, where he'd bumped into her and spoken to her rudely.

Connor started the rally to determine who would serve first. “Have you ever been to Nantucket before?” he asked.

“Nope, first time,” Bess answered.

“How about you?” I interjected.

“Oh, I've been coming here my whole life,” he said with a proud smile.

“So you must know our friend Jenna. She's been coming here her whole life too,” I offered, as if I didn't know anything about his and Jenna's history.

Connor's face hardened. He glared at me icily and then looked suspiciously at Bess. “What is this?”

I shrugged. Connor stared at me. He could tell that I knew more than I was saying.

“If you were really friends with Jenna,” he continued, “you would know that she and I are not on the best of terms right now.”

It was time to drop my act.

“Someone's going after Jenna,” I said. “And as far as I can tell, you're the only person who has a problem with her.”

To my surprise, Connor started laughing. “What a baby! She freaks out and sics her friends on me because of one tiny prank?”

“It was a pretty big ‘prank,'” Bess stated.

“I'm glad you two were impressed, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. I just took some paint and wrote ‘Liar' on her precious sign. She is a liar. She said she cared about me,” Connor snarled.

“And then when everyone was distracted by the sign, you took the figurehead?” I asked.

“Someone took her figurehead?” he asked. “She must be flipping out!”

Bess scowled. “I thought you cared about Jenna!”

“If she doesn't care about me, I don't care about her,” he replied.

I still had more questions for Connor. I wasn't sure I believed that he had nothing to do with the figurehead. So far he had the strongest motive, and he clearly had a temper. Before I could ask anything else, Marni came running into the rec room, a frantic look in her eyes.

“Nancy! Bess! You need to come right now!”

“What happened?” I asked.

“There's been an accident,” Marni said, her lips quivering as she fought back tears.

Bess and I turned and looked at each other, our eyes wide with fear.

“George!” we yelled.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Overboard

“THE NURSE THINKS SHE MIGHT HAVE A
concussion,” Marni said in a shaky voice as she led us through the club to the nurse's office.

“A concussion?” Bess asked. I could hear how scared she was. “That's a brain injury, right?”

Marni nodded. “The nurse is running some tests here, but George might have to go the hospital for more.”

I gulped, working hard to fight back tears. George was always so tough and unafraid that it was hard to imagine her seriously hurt. I tried to prepare myself for the worst before we saw her.

“How did this happen?” I asked.

“The boom slipped and it hit George on the back of the head, knocking her overboard. I jumped in and got her out,” Marni explained.

Bess stopped and wrapped Marni in a giant hug. “You saved her life!” Bess burst out.

Marni looked embarrassed. “It was no big deal. I used to work as a lifeguard.” She tried to extract herself from Bess's grasp, but Bess wouldn't let go.

“No, it is a big deal. You're a hero,” Bess said emphatically. Marni blushed and looked uncomfortable at the attention. I interjected with some questions to help change the topic.

“If I remember my sailing lessons from summer camp, the boom is the horizontal pole that holds the sail, right?” I asked.

Marni nodded.

“But how did it get loose?” I wondered out loud.

“The knot slipped. I don't know how,” Marni said as we reached the door to the nurse's office. We barged in to find George sitting on the exam table with a towel draped around her. Her clothes were sopping wet. The nurse stood in front of her, holding up two fingers.

“How many fingers do you see?” the nurse asked. George stared at the fingers, squinting her eyes as if she was trying to focus. Bess squeezed my hand. I squeezed back and held my breath as I waited for her to answer. What was taking her so long? Could she really not see how many fingers the nurse was showing her?

“Four?” George finally answered hesitantly. I gulped loudly. Bess's breath caught in her throat. The nurse turned to us with a concerned expression on her face.

“Just kidding!” George shouted, laughing. “Two! It'll take a lot harder hit than that to injure this brain.”

“If I weren't so happy you were okay, I'd shake you for scaring us like that. It wasn't funny!” Bess scolded her.

The nurse handed George an ice pack. “Keep that on there for at least twenty minutes.” She turned to Bess and me. “If she starts feeling dizzy or like she's going to throw up, you need to take her to the hospital right away.”

We nodded. I knew Bess would watch George like a hawk and take her to the emergency room if she so much as put her hand on her stomach.

“All in all,” the nurse continued to George, “you are a very lucky young lady. This could have easily been much, much worse.”

“Don't I know it?” George smiled. “Usually I keep my phone in my pocket, but I took it out to take a selfie of myself behind the captain's wheel, and I left it on the console. She paused for a moment, shaking her head. “If my phone had gone overboard with me, that would have been a real disaster!”

“She's fine!” I said with a laugh. Even the nurse smiled.

“Is your phone still on the boat?” Marni asked. She was still standing at the back of the office. I'd been so focused on George and making sure she was okay that I'd completely forgotten Marni was in the room.

“It had better be!” George said.

“I'll get it for you,” Marni offered.

“And I'll find you some dry clothes,” Bess suggested.

They both left the room. I had some questions for Marni about exactly what had happened on the boat. “George, will you be okay if I leave you alone for a few minutes?”

“Sure. I'll be fine,” George answered.

I exited the nurse's office and saw Marni at the end of the hallway. “Marni,” I called out. “Wait up!” She slowed down and I caught up to her.

“I just wanted to go over what happened one more time.”

Marni looked around nervously. “I don't know. All of a sudden the knot just slipped and the boom went swinging and hit George. It happened so fast, I couldn't do anything to stop it.”

“It's not your fault,” I tried to assure her. “Accidents happen.”

Marni bit her lip. “I'm not so sure about that.”

I stepped in to stand closer to her and lowered my voice. “What do you mean?”

“I don't have any proof or anything, you know, but . . .” She trailed off.

“You have a hunch?” I asked.

Marni nodded. “The thing is, the knot that was used to tie the boom is really reliable. It almost never slips. There's a reason sailors use it.”

“What are you saying?” I asked.

Marni took a deep breath. “I think someone tampered with the knot.”

My mind raced through all the implications of this information. The biggest question, of course, was, who was the target of the sabotage? Maybe the thief knew George was helping me with the case? George had gone onboard so spontaneously, I couldn't see how the culprit would have had enough time to mess with the knot without Marni and George seeing them. Maybe this was entirely unrelated to the theft of the figurehead.

“Do you think someone was trying to hurt you so you couldn't compete in the fall regatta?” I asked Marni.

“That's the thing,” Marni said. “No one knew about Jenna's family lending me their boat.”

It took me a moment, but suddenly I understood what she was implying. “You think someone was trying to hurt Jenna?” I asked.

Marni nodded glumly. “I don't mean to be a bad friend, but I'm starting to think Jenna should cancel her exhibit. It's not worth getting hurt.”

I understood why Marni would say that, but I didn't want to give up yet. “I'm going to come with you to the boat,” I said.

“Are you sure?” Marni asked. “It might not be safe. Whoever messed with the knot might have sabotaged something else.”

“That's what I'm counting on,” I said. Marni looked confused. “The more things a culprit touches, the more chances they left behind a clue,” I explained. Marni still looked nervous, but she agreed and we headed to the boat.

We cut across the well-groomed lawn to the docks and made our way down to the last slip. Even with my limited knowledge of boats, I could tell this was an impressive one. It looked sleek and powerful, like it could cut through water at a quick pace.

“This is it,” Marni said. “The
Mayflower
.”

“Like the boat the Pilgrims came to America on?” I asked. Marni nodded.

“Did Jenna name it?” I asked with a grin.

Marni laughed. “She does have a bit of a one-track mind: history, history, history. Sometimes it can be difficult to get her to focus on the present.”

She walked to a large box at the end of the dock and pulled out a bright-orange life jacket. “Put this on,” she said. “Even though we're not leaving the dock, I'm not taking any chances.”

I took the life vest and clipped it on. I felt silly, but I knew Marni was right. If someone was booby-trapping the boat to cause Jenna bodily harm, then we couldn't be too careful. Once my life jacket was secure, we climbed onboard the
Mayflower
. Even docked, there was a gentle sway to the boat that took some getting used to. Marni led me to where the boom was tied up.

“Okay,” she said. “I just tied this knot after the old one slipped. This is what it's supposed to look like.” I studied the knot, the way the rope twisted and turned on itself. “You should be able to tug on it like this,” she demonstrated, “and it shouldn't budge.” I tried it. She was right. The knot didn't move.

“That's incredible,” I said.

“It is pretty amazing what you can do with the right knot,” Marni agreed. She walked over to a pile of extra canvas for the sail that was sitting near the back of the boat. “You want to check the other knots and look for clues? I'm going to move this to the hull. If someone is messing with the boat, I want as much locked belowdecks as possible.” She struggled to pick up the pile of canvas.

“Here, I can help you,” I said, rushing over to her.

“I've got it,” Marni grunted. She maneuvered past me. I could hear that her breathing was strained as she made her way down the stairs.

I shook my head. These islanders really were tough. I guess living thirty miles away from the rest of civilization made you self-reliant.

I checked all the knots, but they were all tied correctly. Then I scoured the deck for clues. Nothing appeared out of place. I sighed. I had really hoped to find a lead on the boat.

Marni said all the instruments checked out. We grabbed George's phone and headed back to the nurse's station. We walked back in silence, both lost in our own worlds.

When we arrived, we found Bess sitting in a chair, her arms crossed in annoyance. George was nowhere in sight.

“Where's George?” I asked.

Bess indicated the closed bathroom door. “She refuses to come out.”

“No one can see me like this,” George yelled through the door.

“I told you,” Bess answered. “That's all they had.”

“Then just give me back my wet clothes!” George yelled.

“You're not getting sick on top of a head injury,” Bess hollered back.

I've known George and Bess long enough to know they were in a standoff and neither was going to budge unless someone intervened.

“Hey, George,” I called out. “I have your phone.” Almost immediately, the bathroom door creaked open and George padded out. If not for the furious glare she was shooting me, I would have burst out laughing. Apparently the only clothing Bess could find for George was the Sailing Club's waitress uniform. George was decked out in a khaki pleated skirt and pink collared shirt that bore the Sailing Club insignia. I could not imagine a more un-George-like outfit.

“May I have my phone, please?” George said, still sulking.

I handed the phone over. “Okay, so the outfit isn't exactly you, but you don't look bad,” I said gently, trying to make her feel better.

“Thanks,” George muttered, quickly immersing herself in her phone and everything she had missed in the thirty minutes she had been separated from the Internet.

I sat next to Bess and Marni and recounted our theory that the boat accident had been intended for Jenna.

“Nancy,” Bess said seriously, “I know this would be bad for Jenna's career, but I think it might be time to go to the police. If she's physically in danger . . .” She left the rest unspoken, but I knew what she was getting at. And she was right. Jenna's job being at stake was one thing, but her safety was another. It was probably time to bring in the professionals. It was frustrating because I knew I was close, but maybe not close enough. I had lots of leads, but no solid evidence indicating the culprit. Who knew what could happen to Jenna while I was struggling to make sense of all the pieces?

“Guys!” George said abruptly. “We need to go back to the museum right now.”

“Why? What's going on?” Bess and I asked.

“The newspaper just posted that an anonymous source told them there was a theft at the museum affecting the
Eleanore Sharpe
exhibit. It's not a secret anymore!” George said.