The Phantom of Nantucket (7 page)

I was so lost puzzling out the details of the case that it took me a moment to realize that all my friends were staring at me expectantly.

“So, what do we do now, Nancy?” Bess asked.

“I think we have to talk to Pete,” I responded. “Tell him we know about the ivory and ask him point-blank about the figurehead.”

Jenna sniffled. I looked over and saw that she was no longer fighting her tears. They were streaming down her face. “Excuse me,” she said as she rooted around in her purse. “Pete's been my mentor for so long. I just never thought he would be capable of something like this.”

I rubbed my hand on Jenna's back to try to comfort her. I couldn't think of anything to say that would make her feel better. It was horrible to find out someone you trust has betrayed you.

“Found a tissue,” Jenna said. “Wait a second. This isn't it.” She was holding a piece of paper with a note written on it. I watched her read it. Her eyes went wide with fear. “Nancy . . .”

She thrust the piece of paper toward me. I took it from her hand and read:

JENNA, IF YOU DO NOT STOP THIS EXHIBIT, YOU WILL GET HURT.

CHAPTER TEN

Different Directions

“WHAT DOES IT SAY?” GEORGE DEMANDED.
I handed her the note so she could read it for herself. Bess read it over her shoulder.

“If I shut down this exhibit, everything I've worked for is over,” Jenna moaned.

“A job isn't worth getting hurt, though,” Bess argued.

Jenna sighed. I could tell she didn't necessarily agree with Bess. She had focused on getting this job for so long, it probably did seem more important than her own safety. I thought back to Ned's suggestion that perhaps Jenna had taken the figurehead herself because she couldn't handle the stress of the opening. She did seem to be under a lot of pressure, and I could see wanting to be free of that, but I didn't have enough proof to feel comfortable pursuing that lead over any of the others. If I was wrong and Jenna hadn't done this herself, then I would be leaving her high and dry.

“I know the note is scary, but it's actually a good thing,” I said.

“How is it a good thing?” Bess asked.

“It tells us what the culprit wants,” I explained.

“Which gives us a motive,” George added, catching my drift.

“Right. Up until now we didn't know why the ­figurehead was stolen,” I pointed out. “We didn't know whether it was stolen because someone wanted to humiliate Jenna or perhaps the museum itself, or if it was taken in order to sell it to make money.” Bess and Jenna nodded. “Now we know that whoever stole it has something against this particular exhibit,” I said.

Bess turned to Jenna. “Who wouldn't want this exhibit to take place?”

“Besides Kelsey,” I said. “We still have her on the list, and I know she would benefit from you not getting the job, but we need to broaden our pool of suspects.”

Jenna bit her fingernails as she thought. “I can't think of anyone. No one gets hurt by this exhibit. Everyone I feature in it has been dead for at least fifty years.”

“Marni told me that some of the people who live here year-round are very protective of the mystery of the
Eleanore Sharpe,
and they wouldn't want you to tell the truth. Is there any islander you can think of who would feel particularly strongly about that?”

Jenna shrugged. “I don't know. I thought all of that was a bit silly, so I didn't pay attention. I'm sorry.”

I thought of Marni and how she was related to whaling captains. “What about descendants?” I asked. “Are there any living descendants of the captain who wouldn't want to see his name tarnished?”

Jenna looked at me blankly. “I don't know. My focus is on the past. I never looked into anything like that. It never occurred to me that I might make someone upset. I'm just telling the truth.”

I thought Jenna was a little naive to think that simply telling the truth wouldn't upset someone, but now was not the time to argue with her.

I checked my watch. We had just over an hour before the doors opened for the reception and Mr. Whitestone walked through the door to find the ­figurehead missing. We needed to hurry. The only way forward was to divide and conquer.

“George,” I said. “Go to Marni's house and see if you can gather any more information about descendants of the captain or islanders who would be offended by the exhibit.”

George nodded. “I'm on it!” she called. Jenna gave her Marni's address, and George headed off, using her phone for directions.

I turned to Bess and Jenna. “We're going back to the museum and talking to Pete.”

Jenna sighed. “I really don't think it's Pete. Why would he want the exhibit closed?”

“I don't know, but he knows more than he told us. We can't solve this unless we have all the information,” I insisted.

Jenna and Bess agreed, and we headed back to the museum. The sun was setting and it was starting to get dark.

As we approached the museum, we saw a crowd gathered out front, waiting for the doors to open.

“At first I was sad my parents couldn't make it,” Jenna said, “but now I'm glad they don't have to see me humiliated in front of all these people.”

I felt a stab of guilt. I had promised Jenna I could solve this mystery, and I was letting her down.

“Let's go around back so we don't have to walk through the crowd,” Bess suggested.

Jenna and I agreed that this sounded like a good idea. We cut through an alley that led behind the museum. As we rounded the corner, I stopped Bess and Jenna short.

At the end of the alley, a man was sitting in a wheelchair. The captain's hat on his head was a dead giveaway that it was Jeremiah.

“What's he doing here?' Jenna asked.

“He wouldn't want to come to the opening?” I asked.

Jenna shook her head. “You couldn't pay him to come to it. He hates this place. He claims that he breaks out in hives whenever he comes within a block. Says he must be allergic to people who treat history like it's a joke.”

“Unless he knows the figurehead won't be here and he wants to see Pete embarrassed,” I suggested.

“It looks like he's waiting for someone,” Bess said.

“Maybe his partner in crime,” I said. “Let's wait here and see who comes out.”

We remained hidden around the corner of the alley, only our heads peering around the side. We could quickly jump back if Jeremiah happened to look in our direction. So far he was focused solely on the door to the museum. He tapped his good foot impatiently on the wheelchair's footrest.

“He told us he offered you a job,” I said quietly to Jenna.

Jenna nodded. “I thought about taking it,” she said.

Bess looked at her, surprised. “Why would you want to work with someone so rude?” she asked.

“He knows more about the history of this island than anyone else. I could have learned a lot from him, but if no one comes to see the exhibits you create, what's the point?”

All of a sudden the door creaked open and a woman walked out carrying a large, heavy bundle.

“That could be the figurehead!” Jenna whispered urgently. “It's about the right size.”

The way the light was shining behind them, we could only see the person in silhouette. Besides being female, I couldn't make out any other distinguishing characteristics.

“Who is that?” Bess asked.

“I can't tell,” Jenna answered.

“We need to get closer,” I said. I led the way, showing Bess and Jenna how to stay close to the wall and walk quickly and quietly without being seen or heard. We took refuge behind a Dumpster halfway down the alley, which gave us a much better view.

“It's Kelsey!” I exclaimed under my breath.

“I knew she was up to no good!” Bess whispered.

“We don't know what is going on,” I said. We were still too far away to hear what they were saying, and I wanted to keep an open mind as to what was transpiring between them. One of the worst things a detective can do is jump to conclusions.

Although, I had to admit, it did not look good for Kelsey or Jeremiah.

Jeremiah reached into his pocket, pulled out a wad of cash, and handed it to Kelsey.

“That must be the payment she was talking about at the soda fountain!” Bess whispered.

Kelsey carefully counted the money twice. Finally she nodded, indicating that it was correct. They spoke for a few more seconds, and then Kelsey walked around behind Jeremiah's wheelchair and pushed him down the alley away from us.

“I knew Jeremiah wanted to examine the figurehead himself,” Jenna began, “but I didn't think he would stoop to stealing it.”

“Maybe he didn't get the idea until Kelsey offered it to him. She would get quick money—which we know she needs—and it would cost Jenna her job,” Bess suggested.

It all made sense, but there was something still bugging me. “Why would they tell Jenna to shut down the exhibit?” I asked. “If part of Jeremiah's motive was to embarrass Pete, wouldn't he want the exhibit to open so that everyone knew that Pete lost the figurehead?”

Neither Jenna nor Bess had an answer for that. At the end of the alley, Kelsey and Jeremiah turned right. If we didn't start following them now, we would lose track of them. “You two go after Jeremiah and Kelsey,” I said. “Be careful, but find out what they are up to.”

“What are you going to do?” Bess asked.

“I'm going to talk to Pete,” I said. “There have been so many wrong turns and twists in this case. I want to make sure we cover all our bases.”

Jenna and Bess nodded and took off after Jeremiah and Kelsey. I entered the museum through the back door, which had been cleared of visitors and was being prepared for the reception. Tables were set up in the main exhibit hall and covered with white tablecloths. Caterers in white shirts and black vests arranged trays of appetizers. It looked like it would be a really nice event. I just hoped it wouldn't be ruined by this missing figurehead.

I didn't see Pete in the exhibit hall, so I made my way to his office. I was about to knock when I heard voices from inside.

“Won't people notice it's gone?” asked a man's voice I didn't recognize. I leaned in, pushing my ear up against the door as hard as I could. A few of the caterers gave me odd looks. In different circumstances I would try to eavesdrop more discreetly, but right then I didn't have time to worry about appearances.

“Let me worry about that,” a voice I instantly recognized as Pete's answered. “It's my museum; I'll take the heat.”

“It just seems really risky,” the unknown man continued.

“Are you looking at this piece?”

“She's a real beauty,” the man conceded, “but I don't know. . . .”

“Do you know what I've risked by arranging this? I could lose my job,” Pete said, his voice raised in anger.

“I'm sorry,” the other man mumbled. I could barely hear him. “I'll take it. I appreciate everything you've done for me.”

Before I knew what was happening, the door flung open and I went flying into Pete's office. I landed sprawled on the floor with a loud
thunk
, right at Pete's feet.

It took a moment for me to get my bearings. My wrists were sore from bracing my fall, but I didn't think I had hurt them badly.

“Nancy!” Pete said angrily. “What were you doing?”

“How much did you hear?” the other man asked. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with deep-set eyes and a pronounced forehead that made him look ­imposing, especially from my position on the ground. He glared at me furiously, waiting for my answer.

“You took the figurehead,” I said to Pete. “And you're selling it to him!” I pointed to the other man.

Before I knew what was happening, the large man stepped over me with one long stride, slamming the door shut. Now I was trapped in Pete's office with two men who clearly didn't want me there. Not only that, but whatever I had walked into seemed sinister.

I stared up at Pete and the other man, waiting for what would happen next.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A Whale's Tail

TO MY SURPRISE, PETE BURST OUT LAUGHING
. “You think I stole the figurehead?” he asked between chortles.

“I know you stole the scrimshaw,” I said. If anything, Pete laughed even harder. I looked around, perplexed. I had no idea what was so funny.

“I didn't steal the scrimshaw, Nancy. It's in my contract that with the permission of the board of trustees, I can sell museum assets if I think it's necessary.”

“Did you get the board's permission?” I asked.

“Of course I did.” He reached down to help me up, but I didn't take his hand right away. I still had questions.

“Then why didn't you tell Kelsey or Jenna?” I asked.

“I don't discuss financial matters with our interns, Nancy,” he explained. “I didn't want them to worry. We're getting into our slow season, and I needed some extra money to see us through the winter. I do it every year.”

“Shouldn't it have been marked in the catalog, then?” I asked.

“Look at this place,” Pete said, sweeping his arm around his cluttered office. “Do you think I'm that organized?”

I had seen how he “organized” his letters, throwing every envelope the museum received into a box. It was easy to believe that he would just forget to update the museum catalog.

Pete offered his hand again, and this time I accepted it. I got to my feet and brushed myself off. “Any more questions?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “What were you two talking about?” I indicated the man who had stood silently while I interrogated Pete. “If it wasn't about the figurehead, what was it?”

“I told you it was a bad idea,” the other guy said to Pete. “Even this girl could see we were up to no good.”

“Allow me to introduce my stepbrother, David,” Pete said. David gave a halfhearted wave. “He runs a restoration and authentication business and last year he got in a little trouble,” Pete continued. “He sold some items he shouldn't have sold—”

“You sold the illegal whale ivory,” I interjected. “It was too new. It had come from whales that were illegally hunted.”

David sighed dramatically. “It was one mistake. It was wrong, but I paid my fine, and no one will let me forget it. I haven't been able to get work all summer.”

“So,” Pete said, “being the good older brother that I am—”

“Stepbrother,” David interrupted.

“Being the good older stepbrother I am,” Pete conceded, “I'm throwing David some restoration work to help him get back on his feet.” He indicated a painting on an easel in the corner. It showed a man standing at the lookout at the top of a ship's mast, pointing to a tiny whale fluke off in the distance as the rest of the crew sprang into motion to go after the whale. One man, who looked strikingly young, stood near the front of the boat looking like he'd been caught off guard, as if he was just realizing what he had gotten himself into. A plaque on the frame read
SO IT BEGINS
.

Pete and David were right. It was a beautiful painting, but even my untrained eye could see that it needed work to bring it back to its full glory. The colors were faded, and there were cracks in various places.

I looked between them. I didn't really think that Pete still had the figurehead, but I didn't think I was getting the whole story. “If it's so innocent, why were you so concerned that I had heard what you were saying?”

“Okay,” Pete said, “it's not completely on the up-and-up. The board is supposed to approve anyone we hire to do restoration.”

“With my past, they'll never allow me to do the work,” David added.

“But his skills are amazing, and I completely trust him,” Pete said. “Once the board sees his work, they will grant approval in the future.”

“Please don't say anything, Nancy. I need this,” David begged. I didn't know how I felt about what Pete and David were doing, but this was Pete's decision. My focus was on the figurehead—and it was looking less and less likely that Pete had it.

“Aside from Jenna, I have the most riding on this exhibit. I would never do anything to jeopardize it,” Pete said. He was right. He didn't have a motive. Once it was clear that he had sold the scrimshaw for the benefit of the museum and not for his own personal gain, I didn't have anything that pointed toward him.

“You're welcome to take a look around my office if you still don't believe me,” he offered.

Poking around his office could take hours. “That won't be necessary,” I said.

“I'm going to take this painting out the back exit,” David said. “Your board is probably waiting to get in.” He wrapped up the painting and carried it out.

“Shall we see how the preparations are coming along?” Pete asked me.

“Sure,” I said. I couldn't help but feel dispirited. I was fresh out of leads. My phone hadn't rung, so I had no reason to believe that Bess and Jenna had found the figurehead with Jeremiah or that George had gotten any decent information out of Marni.

We walked into the main exhibit hall, which looked amazing. Someone had lined the sperm whale skeleton with Christmas lights, which cast a warm, gentle glow over the entire space.

George, Bess, and Jenna were back, but the looks on their faces confirmed my suspicions that they had gotten nowhere.

“What did Marni say?” I asked George.

“I couldn't find her,” George answered. “Her grandfather said she'd already left for dinner before heading over here. I called her a few times, but she didn't answer. I didn't see her outside, so I guess she's probably still eating.”

“What happened with Jeremiah and Kelsey?” I asked Bess and Jenna.

“We lost them,” Bess said.

“We got caught behind a wedding party. They took up the whole sidewalk, and we couldn't get around them for two blocks,” Jenna explained.

A horn blasted out into the night. “That's the ferryboat coming in,” Jenna said. “The one Mr. ­Whitestone is on.” She looked sad.

“I'm really sorry, Jenna,” I apologized. “I thought I could find the figurehead for you.”

“It's okay, Nancy,” Jenna replied, though she didn't sound like she was okay. She sounded crushed.

“If only I had just a little more time. I know we're close,” I said.

“Time is the one thing we don't have,” George interjected. “The reception is supposed to start in fifteen minutes.”

“There's no way you could show the exhibit ­without the figurehead and Nancy could keep working on finding it tomorrow?” Bess asked.

Jenna shook her head. “Without it, all I have is speculation. The figurehead is my proof that the captain deliberately sank the ship. The marks on the figurehead show the angle at which he hit the rocks. Opening the exhibit without the figurehead would be just as bad as not opening it at all.”

The four of us sat in silence on a bench in the middle of the room. The sperm whale skeleton hung above us.

I hated to let someone down. It irked me to no end that this thief had outsmarted me. I thought back to the beginning of the case, when I'd been so convinced it would be one of the easier ones I had tackled. If I hadn't been so overconfident, maybe Jenna would have gone to the police and the figurehead would be safely in its display case. I knew it was silly to play the “what-if” game, but I couldn't help it. It felt like this was all my fault.

Pete came over. “Sorry, Jenna. I think I need to tell everyone that the reception is canceled and start refunding tickets.”

Jenna nodded but didn't look up from the floor. I gave Pete an apologetic smile.

Pete headed toward the door. Bess squeezed Jenna's hand.

All of a sudden there was loud
CRACK
above us. Before we could react, the tail of the sperm whale skeleton came crashing down on the floor right in front of us. We all dove for cover, crawling under a nearby table, our hands clasped over our necks to protect our heads. We stayed for a moment, looking at one another, waiting to see if the rest of the skeleton was going to follow the tail to the floor.

After a moment, Pete called, “Come on out. It's safe now.” We climbed from under the table and dusted ourselves off.

The tail was scattered across the floor, along with several vertebrae. Looking up, we saw the skeleton still swinging gently. The third cable, the one that had supported the tail, was hanging free.

“You girls okay?” Pete asked. We all nodded. He picked up the tail and inspected it. “It's cracked,” he said, “but all things considered, it's in pretty good shape.” We picked up the rest of the vertebrae from the floor and handed them to Pete.

I found a piece of the cable lying on the floor and brought it to Pete. “Do you think someone could have cut it?” I asked.

Pete studied it. “It's hard to tell. I'd have to look at it under a microscope.”

“Wouldn't you have noticed someone up there with a ladder and a cable cutter?” George asked.

“Most days, yes,” Pete replied, “but we had a lot of people in and out today, doing work on various parts of the museum to prep for tonight.”

I looked over at Jenna. She was staring at the spot where the tail had landed, her face as white as a sheet.

“That note did say I would be in danger if I didn't cancel the exhibit,” Jenna said.

“But you did cancel the exhibit. That's not playing by the rules!” Bess said indignantly.

“The culprit doesn't know that it's canceled,” I countered.

All of a sudden, there was another cracking noise, this one much softer than the last. Another vertebra fell from the tail, hitting George right on the top of the head. “Ow! My head!” she cried out.

“George!” Bess exclaimed.

We guided her back to the bench. Pete barked at the caterers to block off the space under the skeleton so no one would stand there.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Bess asked George, frantically waving three fingers in front of her face.

“I don't have a concussion, Bess. This was barely a knock. It just surprised me.”

“Answer the question,” Bess insisted.

“Three!” George answered. “Satisfied?”

“Not really,” Bess said. “I think we should take you to the hospital. Two knocks to the head in one day can't be good.”

George brushed off Bess's concerns. “It barely even hurts. I haven't felt dizzy or sick to my stomach or anything the nurse said to look out for.” She turned to Jenna. “But I am going to demand more of those doughnuts as payment. Twice now I've taken knocks to the head that were meant for you.”

Jenna looked at George, confused. “When was the first time?” she asked. I realized that amid the busyness of the afternoon we had never told Jenna about the incident on the boat. We gave her a quick rundown.

Jenna still looked confused when we finished explaining what had happened. “But why do you think I was the target of the sabotage, not Marni?” she asked.

“Because no one knew that you had lent Marni your boat,” I said.

“Everyone knew that,” Jenna said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“There was an article about our so-called ‘unusual' friendship in the newspaper just last week, because I'm a summer person and Marni is a full-time islander. One of the examples they used was how my family had lent Marni our boat for the fall regatta,” she said.

“I can't believe I didn't double-check what she said online,” George admonished herself. “Maybe I do have a concussion. I'm slipping.”

Suddenly it all started to click like fireworks going off in my mind as the pieces finally started snapping into place.

I turned to Pete. “Can you get this all cleaned up and the skeleton stabilized in the next twenty minutes?” I asked.

Pete nodded. “If Jenna helps me.”

“Great,” I said. “Tell everyone you're running a little late, but the exhibit will be open in half an hour.”

“Nancy,” Jenna said. “What are you doing?”

“Come on,” I told Bess and George. “I know where the figurehead is!”